#fist of the north star scenario | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

considergoldenkamuy · 6 years ago

Note

emergency request, i know you're not at your best either but could you do something like that drabble you did for raoh for ken or rei instead? i don't really care which or what's in it, but i've just been really upset lately because i feel like i'm disappointing everyone and i can't do anything right.

don’t worry about it, i completely understand. tbh i’m upset rn for the same reason. i’ll do what i can, i’ll do something for both.

SEXUAL CONTENT AND SOMEWHAT DARK THEMES - READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

You had always been at Kenshiro’s side, every since the day your master brought you to Ryuken’s abode to meet his four sons. You would become the vassal of the chosen successor - it was what your martial art, Ryuuza Goken, demanded, as one of the only remaining practitioners, and the youngest of them all. The first day you had arrived, though you were introduced to all of them, only two out of the brothers greeted you with genuine warmth and curiosity.

Kenshiro and Toki.

In that moment, you knew one of these two would be the successor of Hokuto Shinken - something had seemed to just whisper in your ear. But it was Kenshiro’s first meeting with that Nanto user - Yuria - that solidified your belief. Kenshiro was the one who would be the official sixty-fourth successor of Hokuto Shinken. You had no doubt in your mind, and though you remained outwardly neutral towards who you supported, you knew Ryuken and Toki had noticed.

Toki had not been offended or insulted at all, in fact he looked pleased with your choice as the years passed. However there was something he’d said to you when he caught you staring at him with a distant air.

He is fated to be with Yuria. I know it is painful, but we mustn’t interfere.

Kenshiro always seemed like he was just out of reach, the days you spent beside him becoming more and more unbearable as he voiced his love for Yuria to you, too shy at first to confess. You were the one who encouraged him when she was alone, as much as your chest stung.

Yuria noticed, of course. But she wasn’t a bitter, petty or possessive person. Not in the way that would make her unpleasant, anyways. She tried to curb any displays of affection between her and Kenshiro when you were there, having seen that pained glint in your eyes. Despite it all, you faithfully remained by Kenshiro’s side, congratulating him both when he was chosen as the successor of Hokuto Shinken and when he announced he and Yuria were going to get married.

Something strange happened, though. She had pulled you aside to speak with your privately, gazing at you in a way you had never seen before. What Yuria had said to you that day were the words you least expected to hear.

If anything were to happen to me…please, take care of Ken. If he begins to love you, I don’t care - though, I’d be happy for you. I just want you to promise me that no matter what, you’ll do your best for him.

You had smiled in return.

Miss Yuria…that is exactly what I was born to do.

Just two days later, Shin stole her away, leaving you and Kenshiro both in a state of near-death, your eyes temporarily blinded from a slash wound. But you still dragged Kenshiro to a nearby town, bleeding cuts that ran straight through you littering your arms, legs, and chest. It was a wonder you hadn’t died.

When Kenshiro woke up, the last thing he was expecting to see was you sitting beside him, wounds covering your body, skin stained a vibrant red, eyes shut with heavy bags under them, your frame deathly thin. You’d been worried nearly to death over him, completely disregarding your own wellbeing in favor of taking care of him with whatever the townspeople were willing to provide. You had ignored your own injuries in favor of treating his.

He called you an idiot for that, but you just laughed.

Ken, my entire existence is dedicated to ensuring you can survive and keep going. If I die from something like this, I won’t have been betraying anyone.

He was more careful with how badly he was hurt from that point on.

Those words Yuria had told you echoed in your mind, but you shut them out. Even with her not there, you made no advances. You gave Kenshiro no indication that you loved him, not intentionally at least. You’d caught him staring at you with an odd look in his eyes, and you pushed away the hopeful thought that maybe he’d begun to love you. Yuria was still alive, probably. You couldn’t let something like this happen.

But even after receiving the news from Shin that Yuria had killed herself, you did nothing. You found yourself trying to encourage him more those nights he spent sleeplessly, taking care of Bat and Lin whenever he went to go fight. You could feel pure happiness while with the two children, humoring them, telling them stories. You couldn’t feel this same feeling around Kenshiro, not with how tense things had become between the two of you, not after that night that he’d spent silently mourning all of those who had died on his journey thus far. Not after that night that you’d nearly kissed, him withdrawing, telling you he really shouldn’t.

He knew you loved him now, he knew you’d loved him for so many years. You caught him staring even more, these saddened and pondering eyes peering at you.

They became even more somber when Rei came into the picture, nearly sweeping you off your feet with how he could make you laugh, how he could make you smile, with how much he seemed to love making you happy. The way you laughed, the way you smiled - Kenshiro knew you used to be like that with him, before he’d begun to awkwardly avoid you, unsure of how to deal with his current emotions.

He had blocked you off without realizing how much it had hurt you. And now he got to sit here and go through that same pain you have been suffering from for decades, watching you slowly become closer and closer with Rei. Another one of those nights you and Kenshiro ended up staying awake together, he gave you his answer to that silent question that had been hovering in the air for so long.

I do love you.

He was the one who kissed first that time, touch tender as he held you close. Your had pushed him away gently, suddenly unable to contain the tears that began to stream down.

You idiot, you’re always too late.

Kenshiro’s brown eyes were calm yet dejected as he gazed at you, your focus elsewhere, refusing to meet stares. Despite it all, though, you didn’t refuse that second kiss, nor the third, nor the fourth. Your chest ached even as gasps and sighs left your lips, but it wasn’t Kenshiro’s name you breathed out, nearly inaudible. His movements had stuttered, another wave of sorrow washing over him before he thrust again, faster and harsher than before. Your back arched and your nails dug into his strong arms as you let out a silent cry.

I can never make up for what I’ve done, can I…?

You didn’t answer him with anything other than a bittersweet smile, pulling him in for a kiss. It was full of so much unspoken sadness and pain, so much tender hurt, so many emotions. There was love, but it was somber and plaintive. A desolate love, trying to deny itself, as if its very existence was a damning thing in and of itself.

I will love you if it will make you happy, Ken. That’s all there is to it.

He grunted once, body twitching as a familiar sensation coursed throughout his body. A groan of your name left him as he pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck. And finally, you softly whispered “Kenshiro,” your own body convulsing. A moment passed before he pulled away and lay down on the bed, right next to you.

But will you be happy with this?

You chuckled sadly.

No, I won’t.

Kenshiro was silent before closing his eyes, resigning himself to the darkness.

Go to Rei. He’s waiting for you, without a doubt. He’s the only one who can make you happy.

…alright. You stood, a little shaky. You went to the door, completely naked, avoiding his gaze that you knew was following you. Good night, Kenshiro.

He didn’t realize there was so much disappointment and hurt on your face until you spared him a single glance, shutting the door behind yourself before he could sit up and take back his words. He had been too blunt and harsh - he’d forgotten how sensitive you were towards this.

You ignored him as you heard him call your name, continuing down the hallway, feeling vulnerable and taken advantage of. Even if that moment you’d just had him wasn’t entirely out of mutual affections, you thought that maybe he would want you to be with him a bit longer. He didn’t want you as a person, that’s all there was to it, it seemed. You went back to the room Rei had asked to share with you, feeling those tears pouring from your eyes as you wordlessly shut the door behind you. Not able to bring yourself to pull on your clothes, you leaned on the wood behind you, sobbing quietly as you slid down onto the floor, hugging your own form.

You were supposed to make Kenshiro happy, that was the whole reason you were alive. Your existence was dedicated toward him and his bidding, you couldn’t deny him. It was against the law that had been ingrained in your mind since you were first able to hold a weapon in your hands.

You tried to calm yourself, reminding yourself that you had to sleep. That would help, wouldn’t it? Sleep solved all your problems. You stumbled into bed, barely able to even consider pulling on your clothes again to sleep.

You ditched your cloths on the floor, bare form beneath the covers as you rested your body on its back. Your shoulders tensed, though, when you saw a pair of wine red eyes peering at you, unreadable.

“…Rei, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” your voice was soft and weak, shaky. You sounded so defeated in that moment. “Go back to sleep, we have to go a long way tomorrow.”

“What happened?” His question was blunt and stern, but the gentle concern laced into his voice made it seem softer.

“…nothing,” you said quietly, about to roll over so your back was facing him, but he reached out and snagged your shoulder, pulling you he could fully see your naked upper body. Rei’s gaze trailed to the marks over your neck and chest, the swollen quality of your lips. Dread and guilt swam in your eyes, unable to look away when he stared right into them.

“Kenshiro did this?” His guess wasn’t really a guess - Kenshiro was the only other one in the group who was capable of something like this, and Toki wasn’t interested in you at all. Rei’s eyes darkened when you nodded hesitantly, lips quivering again as you covered your chest with your arms, seemingly ashamed.

“Don’t worry about it, Rei,” you tried to be reassuring, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t buying any of it. “I’m just overthinking it.”

“I thought you loved him. Did he force you?” Rei seemed like he was interrogating you, but you already felt too miserable to be physically capable of giving up even more.

“No, Rei. I don’t love him anymore. I let him do this to me. I’m the successor of Ryuuza Goken, I…the whole reason I live is to do whatever he wants me to do.”

Rei stared at you for a moment before he pulled you in, offering a comforting embrace - one you returned with little hesitation, sobs beginning to wrack your body. He let you cry into his chest, holding you close and murmuring consolations and kind words. A few moments passed before you pulled away a bit, trembling as you traced your fingers along his jawline. His expression softened, a slight smile gracing him.

“Rei…” Your murmur was soft, but that was all he needed to get the consent he’d been waiting to hear for so long. His lips molded with yours, but not in that needy and desiring way that Kenshiro’s had. He was tender and gentle, careful and patient.

Neither of you realized Kenshiro was standing just beyond the door, having been reaching for the doorknob until he heard your talk with Rei. His expression darkened, hand falling back to his side. He knew where he stood in your eyes. He couldn’t change that now, not after what he’d done that night. Kenshiro forced himself to turn around and walk away when he heard you call Rei’s name the same way he heard you call just moments before.

He didn’t deserve to feel something like jealousy over someone who clearly didn’t need any more mental torment than they had already suffered from. He wasn’t worthy of something like jealousy.

He didn’t get any rest that night, the faint sounds of intercourse reaching him enough to keep him awake as if a ghost had begun to haunt him, poking him every time he was about to close his eyes. Briefly, Kenshiro wondered if this what Rei felt when the Hokuto user had been sleeping with you with a one-sided passion not too long in the past.

When Kenshiro saw how much happier you were the next morning, greeting Rei first rather than himself, he decided that yes, Rei had also felt miserable. Not anymore, though. Their positions had been swapped.

His heart clenched when he saw you hold Rei’s hand in that way you used to hold Kenshiro’s when you were both still young.

That day, you pushed Rei to the side. You announced to Raoh, your childhood friend, that you had seen the Death Omen Star. You begged him to kill you instead of Rei. Raoh had been shocked, but out of the respect he had held toward you for years, he complied to your wish, even as Rei begged you not to do this. He could only watch helplessly from his position on the ground, not fast enough to push you out of the way of Raoh’s attack.

A gaping whole appeared in your gut and you spat out blood, falling to your knees just as Kenshiro arrived, hearing your lover scream your name. Kenshiro froze at the sight of your body laying limply in the Rei’s arms as he shed tears uncontrollably, calling you an idiot, that you shouldn’t have done that for him.

Kenshiro rushed over, and your weak smile reached your dying eyes, the last of your strength spent on holding each of their hands. “I’m sorry…I couldn’t…live for longer…”

“Don’t talk, we have to - !”

“Don’t bother,” Raoh interrupted the Nanto user. “They requested I kill them instead of you. I fulfilled that request - they won’t live much longer. Be grateful you had someone like them by your side.”

“I can’t see you…” Your hoarse voice brought both Rei and Kenshiro’s attention back to you. “I can’t…see anything…but don’t cry, Rei. I chose to die.”

“You’re still a fool,” he choked out, Lin and Bat weeping as well, seeing their parent figure dying before their very eyes. “I should have been the one to die…!”

“Kenshiro…you’re there too, right?” You didn’t turn to look at him. “Sorry. I’m supposed to protect you, and yet here I am, betraying my own Fist.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kenshiro managed, pursing his lips. “You died protecting what you truly love. That’s all that matters in the end.”

You were silent for a moment before chuckling, leaning your head into Rei’s chest, feeling your own warmth fading. “You’re still an idiot.”

Kenshiro did well to hide his heavy flinch.

“Bat, Lin, Airi, whoever else is there…it’s been fun. Thanks.

“Raoh, I’m sorry that this is how it ends. We haven’t seen each other for years and the first thing I ask for his death. Thank you for killing me anyways, I hope you’ll fulfill your promise and spare Rei.”

The man on the horse remained silent, but bowed his head a little, offering a silent prayer.

“And speaking of…thanks, Rei. For everything. I didn’t think anything could bring me back from that. But you pulled it off.” Your smile widened into one of closure. “Sorry about this. You’ve still got Mamiya, though. So you won’t be alone.”

“Damnit - “ Rei could only say your name in a hushed and cracking voice, as your body relaxed completely. Kenshiro couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“Bye, everyone. Bye, Ken. Bye, Rei.”

His breath caught in his throat when that sparkle in your eye disappeared, muscles completely loose.

Lips quivering, Rei gently shut your eyes, standing slowly, your cold body in his arms. Raoh just watched as Rei gave him one last look, not of anger, not of sadness - one of resolution - before the man walked off, holding you a bit closer as he tried to think of how he would find a good place to bury you.

Then again, even the holiest grounds in Heaven wouldn’t be good enough for your corpse to be laid.

#fist of the north star #fist of the north star imagine #fist of the north star scenario #hokuto no ken #hokuto no ken imagine #hokuto no ken scenario #kenshiro #kenshiro imagine #kenshiro scenario #rei #rei imagine #rei scenario #emergency request

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bellarosethefangirl · 3 years ago

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Welcome to my blog!

Requests: CLOSED! I need to catch up on the ones in my inbox (Headcanons, One shots, yandere, and nsfw allowed)

Other Accounts:

Quotev Account: AbellaLove101

Wattpad Account: AbellaHeart-

Ao3 Account: AbellaHeart_101

I consider myself a multi-fandom blog but I mainly write for Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. I write for several fandoms, anime, manga, video games, etc. I like writing yandere too. I mainly write anime fanfiction and character x reader but I also do a bit of my personal OC fanfics for my Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure OC. Feel free to message me or send asks about other fandoms. Many times I didn’t list a fandom I’m into is because I don’t feel as confident writing for the characters but I’ll certainly try!

Fandoms I Write for:

Anime: My Hero Academia, Tokyo Revengers, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Food Wars, Yuyu Hakusho, Katekyo Hitman Reborn, Hunter x Hunter, Demon Slayer, High School DxD, Soul Eater, Dragon Ball, Yu-Gi-Oh! (Season 0, Gens 1-5), One Punch Man, Ouran High School Host Club, Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt, High School of the Dead (H.O.T.D), Dragon Half, Howl's Moving Castle, and Rosario Vampire

The following I only write for certain characters: Naruto, Bleach, Death Note, Fist Of The North Star, Saint Seiya, Toriko, Seven Deadly Sins, Black Clover, Fairy Tail, Sailor Moon, Fruits Basket, D.Gray-Man, Inuyasha, and One Piece

Video Game: Kingdom Hearts, Legend of Zelda, Persona 5, Smash Bros (occasionally but I’m not as familiar with the games on the switch, I’m more of a PlayStation person)

Rules Here Please Read my Rules, if not listed it’s most likely allowed

Tag List:

If interested in being tagged in my fics here’s a LINK: I tag by fandom

Master List Below:

My Master List

My Master list is alphabetized! I have various fandoms: anime’s, video games, and cartoons! My Content with adult/sexual themes will have, “🔞NSFW“ titled next to them. I will update it frequently with the recent date marked in the title.

How my master list is organized:

Name of Series (Alphabetized by first letter)

1. Number with character name. The characters are alphabetized by first name.

Each bullet represents each one shot with the character numbered

Stories are divided by chapters and will go as such:

“Title of story”

Description of book (AU, Genre, Setting, warnings if it’s mature content)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

2. Some stories may be separated in a section of a group of stories with a particular similarity. (Examples include a Valentine's section or Halloween themed section) Separate books that include various character love interests or harem themes are numbered in its own section while one shots with similar themes have its own section.

That all! Enjoy my Master List

Haikyuu! 🏐

1. Yu Nishinoya x Reader

"Surprise Birthday" (Nishinoya x Reader)🔞NSFW {Birthday Special} 🎊

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Master List Here

My JJBA OC Content

Abella x Trish Una

Sweet Theme F/o Asks

Trish x Abella Selfship NSFW Meme Post

Trish x Abella Relationship Card Selfship Post

Trish x Abella Relationship Level Selfship Post

Abella x Fugo Panacotta

Sweet Themed F/o Asks

"A Dance?" (Abella x Fugo Songfic)

"For Me Tesoro?" (Abella x Fugo Minific)

First Date Scenario (Abella x Fugo Minific)

Kingdom Hearts 💙🗝

Quotev Quizzes

Visit The Melody Of Memory Café And Get A Character (Results Include Mickey, Riku, Kairi, Aqua, Ventus and Sora)

Visit The Organization 13 Café And Get A Character

Visit The Kingdom Hearts Café And Get A Character (Results Include Sora, Kairi, Riku, Ventus, Aqua, Terra, Xion and Vanitas)

Kingdom Hearts x Reader Quizzes

Plan A Vacation And Get A Kingdom Hearts Lover(Results Include Kairi, Riku, Sora, Xion, Namine, Aqua, Roxas, and Axel) Note: Male & Female Reader

Go On A Lunch Date With Sora And See What He Thinks (Sora x Reader)

Valentine Themed Quizzes❣️

Go On A Valentine’s Date And Get A Kingdom Hearts Character (Results Include Sora, Kairi, Riku, Ventus, Aqua, and Terra)

Get A Kingdom Hearts Valentine’s Date (Results Include Kairi, Riku, Sora, Aqua, Roxas, Xion, Axel, and Zexion)

Legend of Zelda

1. Link x Reader

“Wolf To The Rescue” (Twilight Princess Link x Reader)

My Hero Academia

1. Almight x Reader ❤️💛💙

“You Are Here For Me” (Young Almight x Bi Classmate Reader)

2. Izuku Midoriya x Reader

“The Ninja and Deku" (Pro Hero Izuku x Ninja Pro Hero Reader) 🔞NSFW

Izuku x Reader (Short Love Letter) 💚📝 #1

Classmate Reader, healing quirk. Fluffy and Nerdy Deku.

3. Nana Shimura x Reader

“I’ll Love You Always” (Nana Shimura x Female Sidekick Reader)

4. Various character x reader Scenarios

Female Pro Heroes accepting a gift from their partner (Nemuri Kayama, Rumi Usagiyama, Ryuko Tatsuma, Nana Shimura)

Halloween MHA Fanfiction 🧡🖤🎃 (Various Characters)

“Not So Quiet Halloween” (Tsuyu Asui x Female! Doppelgänger Reader) 🎃🍬🍫

“Phantom Heart” (Skeleton Almight x Phantom Reader)💀🎃

AU, Disney Halloween Town

“Love Me, Devilman” (Devil Denki x Voodoo Doll Reader) 😈🔞NSFW

"Pranksters Paradise For An Undead Bride" (Frankenstein Dabi x Zombie Reader)🔞NSFW

AU, Monsters and mythical creatures

“Pumpkin Halloween” (Pumpkin King Bakugo x Plant Monster Reader) 🎃

AU, Disney Nightmare Before Christmas, Monster AU, everyone is a monster

One Piece

1. Portgas D. Ace x Reader

"Snowy Exploration" (Portgas D. Ace x Reader) 🔞NSFW

“Love, Fire, And A Baby” (Portgas D. Ace x Pregnant Reader) 🔞NSFW

Quotev Quizzes

Which Straw Hat Pirate Are You Most Likely To Date?

Saiki kusuo no ψ-nan/The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

1. Shun Kaidou x Reader

“Kaidou’s Birthday” (Kaidou x Smitten Reader) 🎊🎂{Birthday Special}

Yu-gi-oh!

My future Yu-gi-oh master list will be huge so it will eventually have a separate master list. I will have several generations: yu-gi-oh season 0, duel monsters, Gx, 5ds, Zexal, and Arc v content. All are character x reader content.

1. Yugi Muto x Reader

“A Special Gift” (Yugi Muto x Reader) 💕🎄 {Christmas Fluff}

“Christmas Cheer” (Abridged Yugi x Reader) ❄☃🎄

“Love You Inside And Out” (Over Weight Yugi x Reader) 🔞NSFW

"Love Can Be Hard Expressing" (Yugi x Reader) 🎂🎊🎈{Birthday Special 2018}

“Wedding Night” (Yugi x Bashful Bride Reader) 🔞NSFW

“Couples Secret Sexy Session” (Yugi Muto x Reader) 🔞NSFW

“We Are One True Pairing” (Venom Yugi x Reader) 🔞NSFW 🖤🕸

“The Nutcracker” (Nutcracker Yugi x Ballerina Reader)

AU, The Nutcracker. Inspired by Barbie in the Nutcracker. Fluff, angst, romance, adventure, fantasy, Christmas fic

Chapter 1 “Merry Christmas! Meet Your Very Special Nutcracker”

Chapter 2 “Peppermint Forest And Toyland! Your Journey Continues!”

Chapter 3 “The Sugar Plum Princess Arrives! Happily Ever After”

Yugi Headcanons

Waking up having realized he fell asleep on reader's shoulder

2. Yami Yugi x Reader

How he reacts to you sleeping on his shoulder

3. Yugioh Boys x Reader

Headcanons

How the boys would react to finding out their GF is a Werewolf (Seto Kaiba, Yugi Muto, Yami Yugi, Joey Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, and Duke Devlin)

Quotev Quizzes

Visit The Yugioh Café And Get A Character (Results Include Yugi, Atem, Kaiba, Joey, Ryou Bakura, Marik, Yami Bakura, And Yami Marik)

Yugioh x Reader Quizzes

How Much Does Yugi Muto Love You? (Yugi x Reader)

Go On A Winter Date With Yugi Muto And See What He Thinks Of It (Yugi x Reader)

Throw A Halloween Bash And Get A Yugioh BoyFriend (Results Include Atem, Yugi, Kaiba, Marik, Ryou Bakura, Joey, Yami Bakura, And Diva Aigami)

What Halloween Couples Costume Will You Get? Yugioh Edition! (Results Include Atem, Yugi, Kaiba, Marik, Ryou Bakura, Joey, Yami Bakura, And Diva Aigami)

Plan A Christmas Party And Get A Yugioh Boyfriend (Yugi, Kaiba, Atem, Joey, and, Ryou Bakura)

Yuyu Hakusho

Team Uremeshi Headcanons

Team Uremeshi x Female Olympic gymnast Reader

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shibuyashotos · 3 years ago

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One of my favorite types of Characters: The Stoic

So I like to write every now and then. Mostly just coming up with OCs and stories to go with them as well as a bunch of other minor facts and knick-knacks. It’s great, helps me unwind. Here I’d like to take a moment and delve into one of my favorite character archetypes: The Stoic. Examples: Ryu (Street Fighter), Leona Heidern (The King of Fighters), Kenshiro (Fist of the North Star/Hokuto no Ken), Jotaro Kujo (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure) Stoic Characters are rather interesting to me, if only because of how they are handled in the world of writing and in their own settings at that. These characters are described as being stone faced, visibly lacking in emotion, the kind that have only one specific face they make and that face is effectively stuck in neutral. An “RBF” you could describe their expressions as. The world tends to be more dynamic around them and thus more expressive to balance out their stoicism. But see, that’s the thing about them I greatly enjoy: Externally, they’re about as emotive as a brick Internally, they’re quite capable of all the same emotions everyone else is. To me, this visible lack of emotion and internalization of those emotions are interesting because it makes you wonder what they’re thinking about, if they like something or hate something. It also becomes a rather memorable moment when these characters do start to show their emotions. For example: Leona Heidern barely shows any emotion normally (There’s a whole explanation for this, but I will not go into it here. Link if you’re curious), so it becomes a rather special moment for her and her team in KOF when she does. Usually it’s because of her teammates, Ralf Jones and Clark Still, looking out for her well being. She’s laughed because of them, Cried because of their kindness, even smiled thanks to them. Another Example: In the year 199X, the world was destroyed by nuclear war, but Humanity still managed to live on. It’s a dystopian world, full of monsters and vile men, and all humanity needs most is that of a Savior. The man that will become the savior of the century’s end is none other than the 64th Successor to Hokuto Shinken, Kenshiro. Kenshiro is not a very emotional person most of the time, in fact he often reacts with dry wit and barely a change in tone. The moments he does show emotion, however, tell the story of a man who has experienced tragedy and sorrow, who will defend the defenseless and that of a man who experiences a burning fury when he witnesses injustices in the world. He put it best to Thouzer: “I won’t even let a strand of your hair remain on this earth.” I like Stoic Characters a lot because of these types of moments, because it’s not often you’re going to see them react a certain way, so when they do react a certain way, it’s a lot more impactful as a result. For that matter, it’s also fun to put them into interesting scenarios and see how serious they are even under those circumstances, no matter how ridiculous they are. (See Leona in SNK Heroines: Tag Team Frenzy) So now when it comes to writing characters myself, I figured it would be an interesting change of pace to go from writing laid back and snarky heroes to trying to write up a character who barely expresses any form of emotion outside of specific circumstances. The Character’s name is Amara, and I’ll gladly talk about her anytime. Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far, I do apologize for rambling, but I wanted to just talk about one of my favorite types of characters.

#character archetypes #stoic characters #creative writing #original character

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piduai · 4 years ago

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Interview with Noda Satoru from the Golden Kamuy fanbook

sharing anywhere is fine, but please credit me.

Q: Tell me how you feel about passing 6 years of serialization. Noda: I was already serializing at the time of my debut, so I guess I’d be able to give a summary when I’m finished. I don’t really think about how many years it’s been, it’s merely a checkpoint.

Q: What made you decide to become a mangaka? Noda: I feel like I wrote it down as my goal in my yearbook back in middle school. I also wanted to become a movie director, but as a mangaka you can create the entire thing by yourself.

When Golden Kamuy just took off I was living in a tiny apartment and the postman, a young fellow and a reader of Young Jump, realized that I’m Noda Satoru. The magazine was sending me a lot of things, so it was rather obvious. “Are you the author of Golden Kamuy?”, he asked in a surprised tone while looking around the cramped entryway. I could feel feel his confusion regarding the fact that that vast Hokkaido world of the manga was being created in this modest apartment. Or maybe he just expected me to be making more money and afford a better place. Anyhow, I just thought again about how a manga can be created in even the smallest room in the universe.

Q: Who is your favorite character and why? Noda: As always, it’s Tanigaki. But well, I love all of them. I want to showcase only the best parts of them, and it hurts when I fail. For example I’m very happy that there’s a character who stirs the pot as well as Usami. He’d be Katsuo in the world of Sazae-san.

Q: Which characters are the easiest to draw, and which ones are the most difficult? Noda: Characters like Shiraishi, Tsukishima and Nagakura, they don’t have a lot of hair and even if they turn out a little ugly their faces are well-defined so it’s easy to draw. In general faces that are strongly distorted and resemble caricatures are easy. Meanwhile Asirpa, Kiroranke and Inkarmat have neat facial structures on top of wearing Ainu clothing, so they are a very high-calorie effort for me. Ogata and Kikuta are difficult too. Their faces are distinctive and I have to make them look cool too, which is wearing me out the most.

Q: Have you decided on all 24 convicts at the very start of the story? Noda: Wouldn’t I sound like a badass if I said that that I have? Anyway. There were the ones that were based off real-life Meiji era criminals, such as Shiraishi, Kumagishi Chouan or the lightning couple, and of course there was Hijikata.

Q: Tell me of a funny thing from the manga that you are fond of. Noda: Gansoku’s “Hah! ☆”. And also when Koito Jr. Was flapping his arms and legs around trying to keep himself in mid-air.

Q: Why did you decide on Otaru as the starting point? Noda: I am from Hokkaido, so I’m familiar with Otaru and Sapporo. Otaru is close to both the mountains and the sea. Sapporo used to be a swampland, it’s wide and flat and there is no sea. Otaru is a place where foreigners come and go, there are many criminals roaming around creating danger, and money is found. There aren’t many big cities in Hokkaido. There were Ainu living in Otaru but sources are scarce, however Nakagawa-sensei, the supervisor over the Ainu language, told me not to worry too much about the difference of location, so I figured it would be best to make it Otaru.

Q: Was there any real life experience you had while growing up in Hokkaido that you turned into a scenario? Noda: When I was about 19 someone I knew told me that there is a locust graveyard on a nearby mountain, which sounded so ridiculous I had to laugh in their face. Turns out it indeed was a heap of locusts and their eggs left after a locust plague, that place was the Teineyamaguchi locust mound (a real historical site). I realized I ended up using this in my story. I owe that person an apology.

Q: Was there any scene that was particularly difficult to draw? Could you elaborate on it? Noda: The time Sugimoto went against Nihei and Tanigaki. It gave me a very hard time. Who goes where and does what, how does Nihei carry Asirpa, stuff like this. I had no time to waste either, I just remember that sequence overall driving me insane.

There was also the sequence with Wilk, Sofia and Kiroranke being at Hasegawa’s photo studio. It’s really frustrating to draw something that you know will bore the readers, the story flow becomes less exciting too. I was praying for everyone to have a little more patience and keep reading, because the twist was so good.

Q: If you were to take part in the gold hunt, which group would you like to belong to? Noda: It seems that Hijikata’s group doesn’t have funding problems, and because Kadokura is there the atmosphere is relaxed too. I’d go there.

Q: If you were to find all that gold, how would you use it? Noda: No idea. Had a couple when I was younger, though.

Q: Were you planning to eventually transfer the action to Sakhalin from the very beginning of the series? Noda: Asirpa and Kiroranke have roots there, so I anticipated that the story will eventually move to Sakhalin. I also expected to have to travel to Amur river myself, but couldn’t go after all, only went as far as Khabarovsk.

I was thinking of making Sugimoto eat permafrost mammoth. There was talk of a research team or an ivory excavation team’s dog eating mammoth. However there was no reason to make Sugimoto and Co go as up north as needed for permafrost, so I scrapped the idea.

Q: Tell me something about the hardships you experienced while doing research is Sakhalin. Noda: It was tough, but fun. I was only able to understand the clear differences between Nivkh and Orok people by going there; I couldn't by only looking at records and materials while in Japan.

Complete unrelated, but I was surprised by how many stray dogs wander around there. One time my cameraman and I ended up being chased by one while looking for a factory and we had to run for it. The beast was big, about the size of a German Shepherd. The guide also warned us about junkies, it was really scary.

I also went to the Japanese military pillbox over 50th parallel north and prayed at a cenotaph deep in the mountains. I met a group of Japanese people in the hotel by the place where it's said you can still find remains of Japanese soldiers and their driver, a Russian, seemed to help with collection of the remains on the regular. He said that he's doing it out of reverence, even as a former enemy. As a Japanese, I felt gratitude. The 7th Division are villains in my story, but I don't have any personal bias against either side.

Q: What were the biggest differences between drawing Hokkaido and Sakhalin? Noda: Well... it's Russia. Even though Sakhalin is so close, it's already Europe. The structure of houses is strikingly different. There's also the differences between Hokkaido Ainu and Sakhalin Ainu, and differences between Orok and Nivkh people. There is no manga that will conveniently lay the differences of those down for you.

It seems that the Orok and Nivkh's relation with Japan only got more difficult by the beginning of Showa era, there is only one person in the whole of Japan who can supervise on the Orok language. The professors in cultural studies I consult for Golden Kamuy are truly top-level; not only are they tremendously knowledgeable, they also understand how important to me is to stay impartial.

The wildlife, as well. There's a biogeographical boundary between Hokkaido and Sakhalin, observing animals I would never be able to see in Hokkaido was riveting.

Q: Did Sugimoto really have a hidden plan during the whole stenka business? Noda: No idea. Even if he used it as a pretext to get everyone involved, though... cut him some slack. He's only a man. Sometimes he just wants to fight and win. Not for Ume-chan or Asirpa-san, just for the sake of proving to himself that he's strong.

Q: Your art is dynamic and detailed. I think your style changed quite a bit with time, though. How would you describe yourself as an artist? Noda: I want to preface this by saying that in no way do I think of myself as more skilled than other mangaka, but if you're drawing everyday for more than 10 hours you're going to improve a lot eventually, whether you want it or not. People who are able to keep the same style for years without change are the ones who are impressive, because it means that they achieved the peak of their potential. Ageing and health problems influence your art a lot, you know. I try to draw by observing. I use a lot of references. Drawing by memory alone is not a good thing.

Speaking of other artists, I once had one of the assistants I had working for me for years draw me a door knob from memory, and the result was a truncated cone resembling pre-packaged pudding. The actual shape of a door knob has an intricately angular circular shape. It's the result of being unobservant in everyday life. Good art requires constant observation.

Q: What was the foundation for your style? Is there an artist you were influenced or inspired by? Noda: Araki Hirohiko-sensei, for sure. During my time as an assistant, many authors told me to not even try to be original when it comes to battle abilities, it's already been done in JoJo, it has it all. He's kind of the Beatles of this industry, isn't he?

By the way, I usually have no intention of parodying JoJo in Golden Kamuy, but my friends will tell me that they identified this or that reference from time to time. I read Part 1 about 30 years ago but I was obsessed, so maybe some things were just left in my subconscious. I only did one obvious parody, during the stenka fight. Funnily enough that trope started in Fist of the North Star, though, not JoJo.

Q: What's one thing that gives you the most motivation to write? Noda: Fan letters. I know how straining it is to write long and neat sentences by hand, and am thankful for them. I'm happy that people go that far to share their thoughts about my work with me. I'm really grateful to the people who keep reading and supporting Golden Kamuy.

Q: Did you have an interest in Ainu culture before starting the series? Noda: I did not. I'll be glad if my work makes people interested in the Ainu. Prejudice is born out of ignorance, so if you want to learn about the Ainu, don't limit yourself to Hokkaido only; there are museums all around Japan, and they have knowledgeable curators. It's important to remember to take into account the time period and the occupation of the person on which the research materials are based when you're trying to learn about the subject.

Q: You showed us a lot of aspects of life during Meiji and Taisho eras. Tell us about what surprised or impressed you in the process of research. Noda: It's not that I was particularly knowledgeable, so having to check every single thing was quite exhausting. The Ainu, the military, katanas - all of these needed research on my part.

There are more regulations and rules set for things out there than one could assume, and mangaka who base their works on real life need to be especially careful about this. You have to take into account things like the size of the buttons on a military uniform, how a tea cup is held, and and how different people talk in different ways. For movies there's staff working on costumes and props, there's the cast, there are screenwriters, but in a manga you are the one responsible for every single detail. I wish I had a time machine and travel back to those eras. There are things I couldn't get right here and there that I keep having regrets about.

Q: Golden Kamuy was the main visual in the British Museum manga exhibition between May and August in 2019. I know you went there in person. How was it? Noda: The trip felt like a reward for all of my efforts. The exhibition is jam-packed by opening time, but I got special treatment and they let me inside early in the morning so I could walk around the vast British Museum in solitude. I also travelled between Jack the Ripper's crime scenes at night by taxi.

The driver in a taxi I caught by chance was wonderful, she looked up photos of the crime scenes and surroundings taken at the time of investigation on her smartphone and showed them to me one by one, saying things like "the third victim was found here!".

I've always had a soft spot for Jack the Ripper, back in middle school I even wrote a screenplay for a school festival stage and played him in it myself. It was done in very poor taste, like that one scene in the Addams Family movie where there are arms blown away and fountains of blood gushing out. The audience loved it.

Q: Please leave a message for the readers. Or maybe some advice for the troubled youth. Noda: I want people to say that everyone in Golden Kamuy had a satisfying ending, and I want that for everyone involved more than anything. As for advice for the troubled youth, there's none. Life is survival of the fittest. The weak ones get eaten.

#golden kamuy #noda satoru #translation #i feel burnt out

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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This isn’t super specific, but I’d love to read more fics for Scarlet Ribbons reader! 🎀 They’re my favorite from you!

THIS MADE MY HEART MEEEEELT ILY NONNIE 💖 the past month i’ve gotten whacked with inspiration to write scarlet ribbons again, so you can be expecting more stories every now and then! i love writing yandere/dark content, but i think working on something lighthearted keeps my brain from getting overloaded in a sense? i remember worrying that if i only wrote horror, i’d eventually run out of ways to make situations tense and lose my edge. scarlet ribbons helps prevent horror burnout. it’s just the fun :D vibes series. i love it very much.

anon 2 asked: Omg rereading your SR stories and Fugo always pointing out things while watching movies made me think of a scenario of showing him the Barbie movies I watched as a child. I will NOT be taking any disrespect on Princess and the Pauper

oh my god. it’d already be amazing enough that you finally convince fugo to watch a barbie movie with you, even if you just said it was for the nostalgia trip, but getting him to keep his thoughts to himself would be impossible. if you started shooting him bitter looks he might just bite his tongue. might. for five minutes. before pointing out some random clipping texture in the background that no one but fugo could somehow notice.

he might find the music okay?? he’d just be like wait. i’ve heard [First] humming this before. all this time he thought you were singing some long forgotten, english ballad, but it was from a barbie movie?? HUH?? that’s going to take some time to process. now he’s going to start questioning all the things he’s overheard you singing in english, he’s got trust issues over it now.

movie anon asked: SR Ask: Just read “Dreams and Hopes” and man, poor Mista’s life is an entire cartoon on it’s own, huh? I really liked it! Does he ever get into those moods after Reader doesn’t notice his advances and the whole team just silently goes “Ah, it happened again”? Have a good day, Lock! - Movie Anon

listen. you know that mista is the one actively trying to flirt with sr reader the most. before moving to italy to study, sr reader did some research, which basically said to expect italian people are very hospitable. so you just kind of look at mista and think that’s what he’s doing. it doesn’t help that he gets tongue tied when he actually tries to confess that no, he’s only like this for you, that he has feelings. on his route he does get over that hurdle however! during the main storyline for scarlet ribbons, he’s fresh out of luck. the pistols get fawned over more than he does.

f...

losing to his own stand... 😭

movie anon asked: SR Ask: After who knows how many weeks of hesitation, Narancia finally asks Reader if she’d like to do something very important with him: Watch a marathon of Fist Of The North Star. How does it go? Have a good day! - Movie Anon

ohh how interesting! i could see narancia being into very action heavy media so this would be his thing. sr reader knows what it’s like to be in the company of a critic when watching stuff (looking at you, fugo), so she’d want to be supportive. it’s likely sr reader would find narancia’s reactions to be the most fun part. every time something cool happens, he’s just gaping at the screen, going WOAH did you see that [First]?

narancia is very pumped up afterwards. he’s just itching to get all the energy out. it might be best to take him on a jog or something to get all that excitement out of his system.

movie anon asked: SR Ask: Trish appreciation time! Considering that she and Reader only were together for one (stressful) week, I guess it’d be hard to have a strong and meaningful bonding moment with how busy they all were. So, in her route, which moment becomes the peak in the relationship between these two? It could be something big, or maybe not! Have a nice weekend, Lock! -Movie Anon

i think the pivotal moment in trish’s route would be sr reader attending her first concert! there’d be that intimate talk backstage, sr reader soothing trish’s worries, trish thanking sr reader for always supporting her. when trish finishes her performance, she’d dedicate the final song to sr reader. it’d be a song that trish had never shared with her before.

a song called “red string of fate”, a reference to sr reader’s stand.

it’s a love song detailing trish’s feelings for sr reader, about how she thinks they were connected by the universe, and basically just a big thank you to sr reader. it’d be a very special moment for them. 🥺

movie anon said: Picnic Date was adorable, Lock! Happy (Late) Birthday to the Golden Boy! - Movie Anon

i’m glad that you enjoyed it!! and thank you for all the fun questions, i hope you’ve been well. every time i look at giorno i just want him to be happy. scarlet ribbons presents the chance to do just that. 🎀💖💖

#trish x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #scarlet ribbons #scarlet ribbons lore #answered #movie anon #Anonymous

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

Text

I’m With You (1/3)

series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, shenanigans, literally no legit warnings its a miracle, rare kas fluff a/n: the first part of this fic was inspired after I got stuck in Atlanta on a layover a few months back and my imagination ran wild lol 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸

T H E L A Y O V E R

Perhaps you should have known it was coming after the second time the flight got delayed. Nearing on two hours past your departure time and with a monsoon brewing past the windows outside, it was a wonder anyone at the gate was still holding onto hope. That was, until the moment the young gate agents with cheeks burning bright red announced that your flight had been canceled.

In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been relieved as you were in that moment, standing in a never-ending line extending out into the middle of the walkway with disgruntled, stranded passengers grumbling under their breath and arguing amongst one another.

Most circumstances didn’t involve you flying to Atlanta to attend the wedding of the last and only man to break your heart.

You stood behind a rather tall man in a dark navy business suit, carrying a leather briefcase and tapping his toe incessantly as the single gate agent attempted to address the needs of the completely booked flight currently waiting in line. The man in the suit was barking orders at what seemed to be a poor intern on the other end of the phone as he nudged an elderly woman ahead of him to take a step forward the very second the line moved up.

With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip from the burning hot coffee you’d purchased shortly after the second delay, despite the fact that it had been nearing 11:00pm at the time. You seemed to be the only one who was mildly relieved by the cancelation and threat of spending an overnight stay in the Charlotte airport, though that didn’t surprise you much. Still, you didn’t much mind the possibility that you would have a genuine, no-fault-of-your-own, entirely-mother-nature’s-curse, excuse to avoid your ex’s wedding.

Then, carrying gently between the aggravated conversations around you, the soft humming of someone standing behind you pulled you from your daze.

You didn’t dare turn around, but you listened intently, caught up in the low vibrations of his voice, not entirely in key, but charming, and sweet. It sat in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding you to hear something so relaxed, at ease, amongst the panic and frustration.

The coffee was still hot on your lips and you winced as it passed on your tongue. The man ahead of you folded his arms over his chest, relentlessly making a show of looking up and around those ahead of him to prove he had better things to do, to show that he was impatient and clearly irritated by his situation as he was the only one with somewhere to be.

Those ahead of him weren’t much better; the lot of them all on the phone with representatives from the airlines and demanding their money back, demanding answers for next available flights, and blaming poor customer service for their troubles as if it was the gate agent’s fault that a monsoon had plundered its way through North Carolina.

“What a bunch of barbarians,” the voice behind you chuckled under his breath, the humming pausing for only a moment. His tone was like honey and you found yourself smiling, suppressing the subtle movement of your shoulders as you laughed quietly to yourself at his comment.

“Bet the guy at the desk is going to lose his shit in about two minutes,” he said to himself, though you wondered briefly if he was talking to someone next to him or behind him, or maybe even you, though you didn’t dare to turn around. No one else responded to his commentary.

You glanced up ahead to who he seemed to be referring to, to find a middle-aged man in khaki slacks and a light blue polo, gripping a newspaper harshly in one hand and tapping his knuckles against the counter top with the other. His face was beet red, jaw clenching, and starring daggers into the poor gate agent.

It barely took longer than a few seconds before the man slammed his fist down onto the countertop, causing you to flinch in response. The honey-voiced man behind you chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by the aggressive reactions of those around him.

You found yourself wanting to turn over your shoulder, to steal a glance at the man with the sweetest sounding voice, even in off-key humming, who laughed in times of chaos and didn’t seem to be bothered at all to be standing in a seemingly never-ending line nearing midnight in the middle of Charlotte Douglas International.

In your brief moment of distraction, you didn’t notice the man in the suit take a sharp step back in reflex to the person at the front of the line waving their hands about, setting off a chain reaction of passengers flinching away from the scene. His elbow slammed down into the lid of your coffee and it slipped from your fingers with a gasp.

The cup fell to the floor in the kind of slow motion you see in the movies, like maybe if you reached out in time you could have grabbed it mid-air, but instead the cardboard cup slammed to the tile and the coffee spewed from the top as the lid broke away, dousing the pant legs of the man in the suit ahead of you. He yelped, jumping away from you and shoving you back with a harsh thrust.

Unsteady on your feet from the shock of it, you fell back into person behind you, into the man with the honey voice and the amusing observations. He caught you before you hit the ground with his arms hooked under yours, smelling of something like warmth and comfort and flannel and fireplaces, before you even caught sight of his face.

Blue eyed. The damned near bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life and they were gentle, kind, like they were painted with care with several shades from the Mediterranean Sea and a cloudless sky and the petals of an iris. Bristles of scruff on his cheeks and dark brown hair brushed up in sweeps away from his eyes. He smiled softly at you, reassuringly, as he helped you back to your feet.

“You alright?” he asked softly and you nodded, just about lost in the smooth tone of his voice, up until the moment suit-man let out an aggravated howl.

“Look what you’ve done!” the man shouted, grabbing at the backs of his pant legs in disgust and sending darting glares at you.

Your lips parted to say something, but you were never good under pressure, not with so many wondering eyes looking over in your direction, whispering to one another, pointing and staring. Cheeks burning red and heating all the way down your neck, you felt a pang of embarrassment, of shame. You bent down quickly to retrieve the empty cup, stepping away from the pool of coffee on the floor.

“I’m-- I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t--”

“You didn’t mean to?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?! Probably more than a month of your salary, sweetheart!”

“Hey man, back off! It was clearly an accident,” blue-eyes interjected from behind you, carefully side stepping around you to put himself in the cross hairs. “It was your elbow that knocked it out of her hand in the first place.”

The man glared at blue-eyes, studying him up as if he was determining if carrying on this fight was worth it with a man at least a decade younger and a build twice his size. He seemed to only be eager to kick and yell and fight when it was at a target without much of a will for defense, someone like you. You clenched your jaw, hating how easily you fell into that trap.

“Goddamn millennials,” the man in the suit grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes on you one last time before he turned his attention back to the front of the line. You let out a heavy sigh, the relief pouring through you almost instantly. You gripped the empty cup in your hand until it bent and crumpled at the center.

“What an asshole,” blue-eyes grumbled next to you, offering you a soft kind of smile that still managed to crinkle up by his eyes. He glanced down at the cup folding under your tight grip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied slowly, though you kept an extra foot of distance between you and the man in the suit, even as he took a step forward when the line moved. “Thanks for that, by the way. You didn’t have to say anything.”

“Sure, I did. Chivalry still exists, you know,” blue-eyes said, that charmingly smooth tone of his voice running almost in shivers up your spine.

“Not in my experience,” you muttered under your breath, uncertain if he could hear you, though he raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering somewhat. If he heard you, he didn’t say anything.

You waited for what felt like another hour before you made it to the front of the line. The gate agent looked exhausted and practically winced at you stepped up, as if he was preparing himself for another verbal attack, but you were soft spoken and patient with him, a kind of change he wasn’t expecting.

Blue-eyes was on your right, talking with the second agent who had rushed up to the counter to assist. You could feel him glance over at you every few moments as you complimented the agent on his organization and calmness under pressure, getting the young man to laugh nervously in response.

The gate agent smiled a bit as he handed you a tentative flight and instructed you to listen to the overhead monitors for any changes. You nodded as you took the new ticket and grabbed your bag, getting ready to go find a quiet place by yourself to mentally prepare for facing this weekend after the nightmare it was already starting out on.

Attending your ex’s wedding was already a worst case scenario on its own. Now you’d have to show up with less than a few hours night rest, if any at all. You were sure you’d hear comments circulating about the bags under your eyes and the exhaustion plated on your face they’d no doubt attribute to remorse for a relationship that was kinder in your memories than it was in real life.

You started to make your way out to the walkway when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Wait, hold up!”

You turned over your shoulder to find blue-eyes finishing up at the counter and swinging his bag over his shoulder, a new ticket in his right hand. He jogged a few paces to catch up with you as you stilled.

“Any chance you’ll let me replace that coffee?” he asked with a warm smiling brimming on his lips.

“What?” you gaped.

You glanced down at your faded leggings, worn sneakers, and flannel hanging loosely over your shoulders. You didn’t consider yourself the type that men approached for that sort of thing, especially men with eyes that blue and a voice like honey.

“I figure it’s going to be a long night and finding sleep in a place like this is almost impossible,” he chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “so why not stock up on caffeine? I know a café in Terminal C with a halfway decent blend and its usually pretty empty.”

“Oh,” you muttered anxiously, cheeks heating red because a man that gorgeous couldn't possibly be serious. The suspicion was already creeping up through your stomach, screaming at you that he was like the rest of them, like he was exactly like your ex, that he would hurt you or that he was looking for repayment of some kind. You didn’t have much experience of anything else. “Well, I don’t-- I don’t know--”

“You can say no,” he offered quickly, though he winced as he said it. “Of course, you know you can say no. What I mean is, you can tell me to ‘eff off’ and I’ll leave you alone, but I just thought... I thought that guy was a jerk and he ruined a perfectly good full cup of coffee and if you wanted, I’m happy to get you a new one. I just—I figured that your night is already pretty shitty with the flights being grounded and then that sonuvabitch -- who didn’t even apologize -- yelled at you for no reason and--” he grimaced. “I’m rambling. Sorry.”

You watched him carefully, studied the way he fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, even through the light scratches of his beard. It was almost endearing. You hadn’t seen a man blush like that before. There was a lingering kind of sadness behind the ocean blue of his eyes you couldn’t quite place and it drew you in unlike anything else.

“Terminal C, huh?” you asked, pulling the nerves from your voice the best you could and his smile lit up again instantly.

“Yeah, Terminal C. It’s a bit of a walk, as long as you don’t mind?” he said, lugging his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow him out into the hall.

“Don’t got much else to do,” you shrugged, surprised that you found yourself smiling as you strolled up next to him.

He had a comforting kind of ease to him and you wondered why he also seemed to be relieved by cancelations. You had your reasons and looking around at the frustrated looks on bystanders faces as you walked by, the arguments amongst family members, the children crying, you couldn’t help but question why blue-eyes didn’t seem to be bothered at all.

“My name’s Bucky, by the way,” he said as he stepped aside at the moving walkway, letting you pass by him to take the first step. He slid onto the walkway behind you with one step.

“Well, it’s nice to be meet you, Bucky,” you replied sincerely, leaning against the right side of the railing as the floor beneath you carried you slowly down the hallway. You had the time to be leisurely and let the walkway move for you.

In the brief moment of silence that followed, Bucky was smiling as he stared at the floor, stealing glances over at you like he was waiting for something. You were about to ask him what he was looking at until he asked, “do I get the pleasure of your name as well, or should we save that for later?”

You laughed, the nervousness offsetting the embarrassment of completely forgetting obvious social cues. Gripping at the edge of the railing, you watched as he stared out into the sea of people as you rode by, smiling softly at the kids who were curled up under their parents’ coats draped over them in blankets and laughing, almost impressed, at the teenagers who had started gathering in a circle, all huddled around their portable games.

Pushing out a kind of confidence you hadn’t known in years, you said, “you buy me that coffee you were talking about and maybe I’ll give you a name.”

Bucky grinned, turning back to face you, clearly amused by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Walking at a leisurely pace, it took a half hour before Bucky gestured for you to stop in front of a small café tucked into the corner next to one of the empty gates, lights barely illuminated with a single staff member hunched behind the counter on his cell phone. The tables were empty and it looked like no one had been there all day with the shelves of to-go items fully stocked.

“Welcome to the best coffee in the Charlotte Airport,” Bucky grinned, extending his arm out like he was showing off a new car. You narrowed your eyes on his, pursing you lips and he dropped his hand, chuckling lightly. “I never said it was particularly good, but it’s not terrible. Plus, we’ve got the place to ourselves if you allow me to stick around.”

“You want to?” you asked, cursing yourself for how timid you sounded. Another thing to blame your ex for. The ex whose wedding you’re supposed to be attending tomorrow. Goddamnit.

“Don’t got much else to do,” he shrugged, repeating your words from when he had asked you to come with him in the first place with a teasing kind of smile that made your stomach twist into knots.

You nudged him hard in the side, laughing, and he stumbled away a few paces, grinning wildly until it crinkled up by his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever seen a man more beautiful in your life, though you pushed the thought away quickly.

Bucky jogged up to the front counter, gathering the attention of the teenager on his phone as he slowly glanced up, slipping his phone into his pockets.

“What can I get you?” the kid asked, voice low and slow, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

“Anything fancy for you or keep it simple?” Bucky turned back, asking over his shoulder. You gave him your order and he smiled at it, ordering one of the same. The teenager didn’t seem to be amused by Bucky’s charming smile and huffed an exasperated sigh as he started to make the drinks.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked as Bucky handed over his card.

“It’s just a coffee, doll. I don’t mind at all,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue as if it didn’t mean much of anything. It left a burning, twisting ache in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks, forcing you to nervously tug and pull your hair behind your ear.

You wondered if it was a name he gave for any woman whose name he hadn’t yet learned; perhaps, the same way older men called waitresses ‘sweetheart’ or the way the man in the suit had so patronizingly taunted it at you earlier, though there wasn’t even a hint of a condescending tone in Bucky’s voice. It was genuine. He was genuine.

You thanked him and followed him to the small table tucked in the corner of the café, away from the hall though with enough of a vantage point to watch for stranded passengers as they walked by. Terminal C seemed to be pretty empty so there wasn’t much chance for that, though he told you he liked to take every opportunity to people watch as he could. There was just something so fascinating about how strangers acted when they weren’t putting on a show, when they were at ease, purely themselves.

You set your new ticket on the table, keeping a watchful eye of the flight number like the attendant had instructed you to in case any changes were made overhead. Bucky did the same and you noticed they put him on a separate flight. The ounce of disappointment didn’t slip your notice but you shoved it aside.

“The departure board’s got more red on it than green,” Bucky said as he settled into his chair, “might be time to seek food and shelter and buckle in for a long night.”

“You sure you’re in Charlotte Douglas and not the Hunger Games?” you laughed, adjusting your bag next to your feet.

“You’ve never endured an overnight in Charlotte, have you?” he countered teasingly.

You shook your head and he let out a heavy sigh, though a smile brimmed on his cheeks, almost like he was excited.

“The hotel’s already booked up by now and as soon as these people realize they’re not getting a flight out of here until tomorrow morning, hell is gonna break lose,” he informed you, carefully watching a family of five as they passed by hand in hand out in the walkway. The father had an anxious kind of look on his face every time he glanced at the youngest of the children as if he was expecting for the boy to realize at any second he wasn’t going to be in his bed tonight with his favorite stuffed animals. He was a ticking time bomb.

“We’ve got about an hour left before the food joints start shutting down and then after that, nothing until six-thirty sharp,” Bucky continued, “Plus, you figure you need to secure an outlet or two and a decent place to sleep, if you’re able to do that sort of thing in a place like this.”

“Good lord,” you exhaled, crossing your arms over your chest as you smirked at him, “guess you better get started.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied casually with a shrug. “Step one is securing alliances.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, scouring his face for signs that he was mocking you and searching behind him for a hoard of his buddies hanging over his shoulder snickering to themselves as their friend messed with the sad girl alone at the airport, you came up completely empty.

“You’re actually serious?” you gaped.

He nodded. “Of course. I’ve already got the caffeine and the ally. We’ll need to secure some snacks next. When you’re ready, of course. Though, we do have a time restraint here so don’t be too long with your coffee.”

“Well, for one, I can take this on the go,” you joked, lifting up your coffee with a teasing grin.

“See how well that went last time though? Can’t risk running into any other asshole businessmen in expensive suits worth a month of your salary, sweetheart!” Bucky mimed eccentrically, trying to mock the voice of the man in the suit but failing halfway through in a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, removing the lid to your cup and letting the steam loose. You sighed at the fresh smell of coffee as it filled your lungs and warmth spread through you before you could even take a sip. “So, we stay here for a bit and finish our drinks. Then we’ll find snacks. Then what?”

Bucky shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee before he spoke again. The content sigh that followed sent shivers up your spine. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, doll. It’s a process.”

“Naturally,” you agreed with a smile on your lips so wide it ached in your cheeks.

Bucky sighed, leaning back into his chair, glancing out into the walkway and studying those who passed by. He was so content, so unbothered by the cancellation, as he casually sipped his coffee, stealing glances over in your direction every so often, you couldn’t help the curiosity as it built up.

“So, you were going to Atlanta, too?” you asked before you took another sip of the steaming coffee.

“Trying to. It’s been, uh, it’s been a while since I’ve gone down there,” he replied, though his smile faltered a bit before he could catch it. You narrowed your eyes on him, surprised by his reaction, though you didn’t push it at all. He cleared his throat, pushing it back out though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How's the coffee?”

“Wonderful now that it’s not covering the back of a furious businessman’s suit,” you responded, taking another sip. Bucky chuckled under his breath and you found yourself missing the soft glimmer behind his eyes. It returned when you asked him about the last time he’d been stranded in Charlotte, as he clearly had experience with it.

He spent the next half hour telling you every ridiculous story you couldn’t have made up if you tried about the bizarre things he’d witnessed at three in the morning walking around the terminals and what kinds of trouble he got in back in his younger days with the airport security for doing cartwheels down the halls.

“Cartwheels?” you laughed, struggling to keep your breath as your eyes watered. “You can’t be serious…”

Bucky was beaming as he nodded, all blue eyes and pink lips and chocolate colored hair raking through his fingers. He pointed over your shoulder to an open space by the escalator.

“I crashed into the railing right over there,” he nodded, then gesturing to his hip bone, “it landed me a bruise for a few months right on my side.”

“How old were you?” you asked, struggling to contain your laughter enough to take another sip of your coffee that was already room temperature.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, cheeks red, and so incredibly adorable it was simply unfair. “Twenty-one.”

“Of course, you were.” You shook your head, watching as he hid behind his coffee cup as he took a big gulp, evading your eyes and glancing over to the open space like he was caught up in memories.

“So, what about you?” he asked as he set his coffee down again. “You ever been stranded here?”

“Fortunately not,” you shrugged, finishing off your drink with a content sigh. You glanced over at the clock, wondering how so much time had passed without even realizing it. It had been ages since you’d felt that way around someone.

“Sounds like you're in need of some Charlotte layover tradition then, doll,” Bucky grinned, something mischievous brewing in his head as he chugged back the rest of his lukewarm coffee and tossed the cup into the nearest trash with a full layup stance. He did the same with yours. “Come with me.”

He extended his hand to you as he stood, long lifelines extending along his palm and you noticed a sliver of marred scarring peeking out behind the sleeve of his over-shirt. You narrowed your eyes on it, curious, but he pushed down the fabric nervously.

“Please, doll. I promise it’ll be fun,” he urged, not letting his hand drop away even as you eyed him reluctantly.

“How do you know my idea of fun? You still don’t know my name,” you teased, having already decided to take up his offer the moment he extended his hand but it was so incredibly endearing to watch his nerves on display.

“Oh, I know, but I’m confident you’ll tell me soon enough,” he said, grinning wildly as you slipped your hand into his regardless. Firm and rough, with callouses on his hands like he’d spent years in service and labor jobs, but gentle like he was holding something precious as he helped you stand. An enigma.

The teenager behind the counter had been watching you with an irritable look on his face and you nudged Bucky’s side as he picked up both of your bags in his free hand. Bucky followed your gaze and then took a quick glance at the clock before he started to laugh, pulling you towards the hall.

“Think we overstayed our welcome here,” he grimaced, nodding to his watch that read it was past midnight. “Coffee shop was supposed to close ten minutes ago.”

“Oh no,” you pouted, turning back to the cashier with an apologetic smile as you called, “sorry about that!” over your shoulder.

Bucky led you to the center of the hall. Around you were a few stranded passengers from flights heading out west, all looking like they’ve been kicked and dragged through the mud. Meanwhile, Bucky was smiling like he just won the lottery. You didn’t realize his hand was still gripped in yours until he dropped your bags beside him with a heavy thud and he let go.

He took in a deep breath, sending a wink in your direction as he took a single step away from you and pushed his hands out into the sky, swing his momentum around in an acrobatic swing that was admittingly quite awful, with bent legs and wobbling landing, but... a cartwheel.

Holy shit, he was serious.

A few random passengers lying on the floor had propped up to look in his direction before turning over to ignore him. Bucky wiped his hands on his pants as he grimaced at the dirt he’d collected. He nodded at a woman in high heels as she walked past giving him a strange look of both disgust and attraction. She might have been eyeing him before he went and did that ridiculous cartwheel, but a man that handsome had some allowances for odd behavior, didn’t he? She seemed to think so, but Bucky paid her no mind as he turned back to you.

“Your turn.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed, laughing nervously as you took a step back.

“Absolutely, yes,” Bucky retorted, grabbing your hands and tugging you to the spot where he was just standing. “This is tradition, doll. You can’t mess with a tradition.”

“Do you realize how insane you sound?” you accused, though you were smiling so wide it started to hurt in your cheeks. His hands were still on yours and his lifted them above your head, nudging your feet with his shoes to get you in starting position.

“You’ve done a cartwheel before, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” you shot back, “back when I was fifteen, Bucky!”

He grinned, stepping back and letting go of your hands. “Then you’ll be perfect. Just like riding a bike.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the same thing,” you mumbled, blushing as a middle-aged couple walked by and rolled their eyes at the two of you. Bucky must have noticed.

“Don’t worry about them, doll,” Bucky said quietly, arms folded over his chest as he planted his feet, waiting patiently. He smiled softly at you, the overly confident and borderline cartoonish character falling away for a moment and you found yourself lost in shades of blue you could have drowned in if he’d let you.

Shit. You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his. Stop thinking like that.

Do the damn cartwheel.

Bucky rubbed his hands together in anticipation and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, you held it in your lungs as you propelled yourself onto your hands, touching the ground with the full of your weight for only a second before you were on your feet again.

Guess it was like riding a bike.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bucky shouted, drawing the attention of the very irritated passengers attempting to sleep in the corner of the hall. It was still midnight, after all. But in the mist of his energy and the way he was smiling at you and rushing towards you to high-five your hands now covered in a thin layer of dirt, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care about the wondering eyes of the stranded observers.

“We better get those snacks before the shop closes,” he said, turning to you with a massive smile.

How was it possible to so easily get lost in the eyes of a stranger you hardly knew? Blue and grey waves sharper and softer than that of the ocean. Pink in his lips that drew you in and you didn’t realize you were staring until he grabbed your hand, tugging you along.

You started to laugh as he dragged you down the hall, not letting go of your hand as he led you down to a corner store with walls lined with snacks. He grinned like a kid in a candy store and gestured for you to walk in like it was a five-star restaurant. The fact that he waved at the cashier who returned his greeting in a familiar smile didn’t slip your notice.

“Do you know him?” you asked, following Bucky further into the store to the back wall lined with snacks, in past the magazines and novelty t-shirts.

“Charlie and I go way back,” he nodded, strolling carefully through the aisles, hands clasped behind his back as he contemplated his choices and he glanced back up at you, smiling that sweet smile that made your stomach twist. Though he paused as he said, “I used to get trapped here overnight a lot growing up.”

He lost his smile a bit as he spoke and it surprised you, unsure of what kind of memory he was thinking back to that could possibly take even a sliver of his smile away from him. You grabbed a bag of your favorite chips from the wall and tossed it over at him. They hit him straight in the chest and he caught them before they fell, the smile returning quickly as he looked over at you with a feigned look of offense.

He grabbed a few bags off the wall after careful selection and raised them up for your approval. You nodded at every choice, except for the bag of jerky he’d held up teasingly. Once he’d gathered enough to fill his arms, a solid mix of salty chips and sweet chocolates and candies, he made his way up to the cashier.

Charlie’s name tag was long faded and he looked like he had been working here for decades. He took his time scanning through Bucky’s items, though he raised an eyebrow at the bag of Skittles and Bucky nodded, a silent conversation between the two before Charlie slipped the candy into the bag.

True to his word, Bucky pushed aside the cash from your hand as you tried to pay and he handed Charlie his card. You grunted, doing that little dance most couples do on a first date when the bill comes, though you started to blush as soon as the thought made its way into your head.

This wasn’t a date. This was... well, you didn’t know what this was, but it was certainly anything but a date.

An acid trip, maybe? An elaborate dream? One of those cheesy Hallmark movies where an angel or a ghost from your past teaches you how to open up and love again?

Probably.

But definitely not a date. He didn’t even know your name.

By the time Bucky gathered the bags of snacks and you followed him out to the main walkway, stranded passengers had begun lining up at every fast-food join within sight, lines carrying far down into the hallway and grumbled groans as managers came out to inform the crowds they were running out of food.

“What did I tell you?” Bucky grinned, nudging your shoulder and you shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter. “Chaos starts once these tourists realize they’re trapped. Someone’s going to start trying to buy food off of people before they take their first bite. Just you wait.”

He was something from a dream, you were sure of it.

“Okay, fearless leader. What’s next?”

He chuckled at that and your stomach flipped a little, though you did your best to ignore it.

“Outlets and shelter,” he replied matter-of-factly, like he’d done this dozens of times before, as he studied the hallway to the left and right, determining which was the better way to go. He chewed on his lip, clearly caught in thought before he straightened his back and turned to you with a grin. “I’ve got a place in mind. You trust me?”

“I don’t know you and you still don’t know my name,” you responded teasingly, though somehow, you knew the answer was yes.

“Sometimes trust is something you learn over time and sometimes it’s a gut instinct,” he shrugged, offering you his hand. “What’s your gut telling you, doll?”

“That you might be an insane person... or an abirritation,” you laughed, though you grabbed onto his hand and let him lead you out into the hallway, “but clearly, I’m okay with that.”

“That’s all I need,” Bucky beamed, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster until you were practically jogging.

Lugging your suitcase behind you as Bucky held a firm grip onto the bags of snacks in on hand and you in the other, he led you far away from the crowds of people, past the moving walkways and the food courts, past the gates with attendants behind the counter, until the lights were dimmer and you passed by nearly five gates that were completely empty.

He let go of your hand and gestured to the gate marked A29 with a familiar smile on his face, though it seemed a little sad with a crease forming in his brow and a slight tremble of his hand clenching by his side.

“How did you know this place would be deserted?” you asked in awe as you tossed your bag onto one of the dozens of open chairs, spinning yourself around freely like you were in the meadows on a warm summer day and not currently trapped in an airport with a monsoon outside and stuffy air-conditioning blowing through the vents.

“Had a hunch,” he replied, though when you rolled your eyes playfully at him, he chuckled, conceding, “I saw this terminal had most of its flights out before the storm broke. Figured it would be pretty untouched for the rest of the night.”

“You’ve been out here before,” you observed, catching the way he stared longingly over at a corner by the desk like he was watching an old memory play out in front of him. Though he wore his smile again, it was softer now, sadder. He seemed caught up in his imagination and you took a careful step forward, tapping on his shoulder and smiling enough for the both of you. “Come on. I’ve got first dibs on the Doritos.”

“So,” Bucky started, “you never said why you were going to Atlanta.”

“Neither did you, smart guy. Why would I give that information away to a complete stranger?” you teased, following Bucky as he led you to the series of outlets against the wall. You slid down the window, leaning against it as rain pummeled against the glass from the other side.

Bucky shrugged, smiling encouragingly as he sat down next to you and pulled his phone charger from his bag. “You don’t have to tell me anything, doll, but I noticed the way you smiled when the gate agent announced our flight was cancelled when everyone else was groaning and crying. You were smiling. Just curious, is all.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, watching him silently as he plugged his phone in and the face of a young girl illuminated on the screen. She was smiling, almost mid-laugh, and Bucky was off in the background of the image, racing towards her, perhaps a few years younger judging by the haircut. She looked a little like him.

You wondered then if she had anything to do with why he had lost some of his energy as he came up on this gate, falling into a memory he recognized. He was complex man; you’d give him that.

“I was... um... going to a wedding,” you confessed slowly and Bucky smirked, pleased to get something out of you.

“You sound unsure about that,” he pointed out, ripping open a bag of chips and plopping four into his mouth.

You shrugged, “yeah, well, even if I make it in time tomorrow, I still don’t know if I’ll go.”

“Why’s that? Seems like a long way to travel if you’re not gonna--”

“The groom is my ex.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky coughed on the chips that were about halfway down his throat. He leaned over, heaving into a napkin and you rubbed at his back instinctively, careful circles over the soft fabric of his t-shirt as his whole body shook with each cough. You pulled away with a blush as he smiled at you once the fit subsided. He sat back again the wall, brushing his wrist over his lips as he stole another look over at you. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not,” you shrugged, pressing your lips into a thin line.

You were embarrassed to even say it aloud, to have to first explain to all of your friends why you agreed to go even as they begged you not to, to have to pack your bag and tell your mother why you won’t be home for Sunday dinner, to have to say it even to this man who was practically a stranger who’s approval and kindness you suddenly found yourself craving. Two years since the break-up and you still struggled to get past the man who broke your heart. Saying no to your ex, to Jack, wasn’t something you were used to and it came as old habit.

“This monsoon might have just saved you from a weekend in hell,” Bucky exhaled, turning to face you with a smile that lightened the anxiety in your chest. He offered you the bag of chips and you took them gratefully.

“You’re probably right,” you said, tossing a few chips into your mouth, though you knew the universe would find a way to get you to that wedding, whether or not you were ready for it.

“You on good terms with the guy, at least?” Bucky asked and you shook your head, clenching your jaw.

He frowned, though he didn’t press you any further as he must have noticed your cheeks flush, shame seeping in you. Bucky let out a tired exhale, leaning back against the window and slumping further to the floor.

He cared, that much you could tell. He was bothered by the fact that you were going to this wedding, alone, and that even with all that you didn’t even have a good post-breakup relationship with the guy. You wondered how it was possible for someone to learn to care so fast and what your night would have been like if he hadn’t been standing directly behind you in that line, if the monsoon never rolled in and this handsome, incredibly endearing stranger never stormed into your life.

Would you have gone to that wedding, watched the man you once thought was the love of your life devote himself to a woman after he broke your heart over his inability to commit? Would you have cried through the ceremony and drank yourself into obligation because he’d hurt you so bad you hadn’t been able to even date since he left you?

Would you have boarded that flight without a second thought to the stranger with the blue eyes and the infectious smile?

“What about you?” you asked carefully, taking another bite of the chips before handing it to him.

“What? You trying to do a something-personal-for-something-personal kind of thing?” Bucky laughed, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.

“Only if you want,” you offered, smiling gently at him and giving him the out if he wanted it. It hadn’t been very long since he avoided the question the first time when you had been sitting over coffee in the empty café.

He took in a heavy breath, though it was shaken. You narrowed your eyes, watching him carefully as he sat up, straightening his back and brushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, supposed to uh, I’m supposed to see...” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck, his voice falling low suddenly. His lips pursed into a frown and the light faded from the blue of his eyes. Something was clearly bothering him and he couldn’t seem to even string the words together.

“I haven’t seen her since I... and my ma says that I’ve been...” he groaned, clenching his jaw and running his hand over his lips. He wasn’t making much sense, that much was clear to the both of you. His eyes fell to the floor and he was only a whisper of the man who stood laughing at the hoard of passengers at your gate.

He was layered, dimensional; both the man with confidence unlike you’d ever seen and the shy, nervous guy with a heart bigger than most men you knew.

Your stomach hurt just watching him struggle to answer your question.

“Y/n,” you blurted out, catching his attention and he raised an eyebrow. You let out a steady breath. “My name. It’s Y/n. Something personal for something personal, right?”

Bucky nodded, repeating your name back to you and a soft smile came over his lips. It sounded like velvet and honey and all kinds of wonderful coming from his voice. He relaxed a bit, the tension slipping from his shoulders. “It’s a nice name. Y/n. Suits you.”

But his voice was still low, aching, and it made your heart twist.

“Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and lugging him back up to his feet, determined to bring back the witty and charismatic man who threw you into this mess to begin with. You didn’t like seeing him upset.

“Thought you wanted to know--”

“Not now,” you replied casually and you could practically feel the weight lift off his shoulders as you dragged him over to the massive checkers set in the corner of the gateway set aside for restless travelers. “I’ve got a preposition for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I get to ask you a question every time I knock one of your pieces off the board,” you proposed, positioning yourself on the side of the board with red chips as big as your shoes, “and if you get one of mine, you get to ask me a question.”

“Do I have to answer?” Bucky teased, folding his arms over his chest and you could already see him coming back into himself.

“Only if you don’t want to be a total loser,” you shrugged kicking your piece out to make the first move. Bucky laughed and squatted down at the board, taking his time to determine his trajectory before he made his move.

It only took three turns before you knocked out one of his pieces.

“Truthfully now,” you started, eyeing him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “in all of your layovers, how many people have you dragged around this airport doing cartwheels and raiding convenience stores?”

A laugh burst from Bucky’s chest and you swore you’d never heard a more beautiful sound in your life, his whole body caught up in the moment. It had been a while since you’d seen someone laugh like that without trying to suppress it. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, though, you supposed you knew that already.

Then he paused, folding his arms, studying you. “You want to know how many women, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I said,” you retorted, trying to hide your blush, though it was obvious as day.

“Only one before you in all my years,” he responded with a nod, “but she was a frequent flyer with me. Not what you think and certainly not the same.”

“That didn’t make a lot of sense, Bucky,” you accused with a grin, “you’re being cryptic.”

“Maybe you should ask a more specific question next time,” he countered with a sink.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled as Bucky started to eye the board for his move.

“So, you think I’m cute?”

You froze, heat flushing into your cheeks as you realized what you said. Glaring up at Bucky as he watched you amusingly. You rolled your eyes.

“Like you don’t already know,” you huffed, trying to push aside the embarrassment you felt through a playful smile.

“Still, it’s nice to hear,” Bucky grinned, nudging his piece to jump over yours and he discarded the red coin off to the side. “How long were you with this ex?”

Your breath hitched in your lungs and you cleared your throat, taking your time to meet his eye again. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ on the purse of his lips.

“Three years,” you said quickly, before you could lose your nerve. “He was my college boyfriend. Had plans to move in together and talked about getting married ourselves before he decided he’d rather ‘explore his options’ once graduation came around. Hadn’t heard from him since. Until I got the invite to his wedding. Guess he found a better option.”

“Yikes,” Bucky winced, “what an asshole. Why did you even agree to go to his wedding?”

“Sorry, you already used up your question. Better wait for your next turn.” You winked at him, holding your pointer finger up as you maneuvered your way around the board to find your next move. It was a relief to cut him off. Your relationship with Jack wasn’t an easy one to talk about and you didn’t want him to think of you the way Jack often saw you; small and spineless. So, you pushed out a smile and pretended you were fine.

Bucky shook his head, armed folded over his chest enough to see the prominent outline of the muscles in his biceps, and he laughed at your response. It was a sweet kind of sound that made your chest fell warm, even with the anxiety in your stomach at the very thought of your ex. It was genuine for as often as he did it and it seemed to live permanently etched into his cheeks.

You went back and forth for a few turns, each picking off the other’s pieces on every round. He asked you about your family, about your favorite flavor of ice cream, about your movie preferences and your day job. You asked him about the scars lining his left arm, peeking out as he scratched at his wrist and he told you it was from an accident on the job, though he didn’t elaborate further. You asked about the college shirt he was wearing any why he dared to go to school in Georgia if he was really a New Yorker like he claimed, though he laughed it off and said it wasn’t his alma mater. You asked about his typical coffee order and hair routine and how he got it so fluffy and he laughed so hard, tears welled in his eyes.

It was almost a half hour of the simpler questions before Bucky knocked out another one of your pieces with satisfied hum and took a moment to think of his question. He watched you for a moment, studying you almost, and your stomach lurched a little. Not because he made you uncomfortable, but because you could see the carefulness behind his eyes, the soft smile on his face, and a man like that looking at you like you were something special was an unfamiliar feeling to say the least.

“You don’t really think this woman he’s marrying is ‘the better option,’ do you?”

You bit down so hard on your lip you drew blood. The sincerity of his question threw you and your heart must have skipped about a dozen beats before you could even blink. Bucky must have noticed your sudden distress and he clenched his jaw. A red heat formed in his cheeks you never would have expected.

“Maybe I should say I’m not trying to pry, but I clearly am,” he admitted with a tired laugh. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, Y/n, and I don’t know how anyone could think you’re anything but the best option. And if this guy was with you for years, it shouldn’t even be a question.”

“That’s... that’s really kind, Bucky, but you don’t know me,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye and losing every ounce of confidence you had clung to around him. Jack had a way of doing that to you, even when he wasn’t around.

But Bucky was determined. He shook his head, crossing the board and grabbing a tender hold of your arms, urging you to look at him. His hands were warm against you, large, a little calloused and rough on the edges but so incredibly gentle.

“I know that you treated that poor gate agent with empathy and patience and got him to laugh after the hell storm of passengers who had just spent their time yellin’ at the guy. I know that you agreed to follow a borderline intrusive stranger through an airport at midnight at the promise of caffeine,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I know that you apologize to teenage employees for staying a few minutes past close without realizing it. I know that you can do a near perfect cartwheel and how you take your coffee.”

“Bucky, I--”

“I know that you’re funny and adventurous and kind. I know that you’re incredibly perceptive and you changed the subject when you caught onto how hard it was for me to tell you why I’m going to Atlanta,” Bucky said casually, sternly almost just to make you believe him, as if his words didn’t make your heart swell so much in your chest it hurt. “Your ex is an asshole, is all I’m saying. He never should have said something like that to you. You’re someone’s best option, you hear me? Don’t settle for some jerk who tells you you’re anything less.”

You swallowed nervously, getting caught in deep oceans of blue and grey as Bucky held onto you. There wasn’t a trace of anything but sincerity in his eyes and you wondered how it was possible he even existed. He rubbed gently at your arms, like he was trying to draw warmth, and the smile on his lips was enough to float butteries in your stomach.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, sincerely, and he nodded at you encouragingly.

He stepped back to his side of the board and you missed him standing so close to you, missing his hands on you, and you clenched your jaw, trying to push the feelings away.

“Since you didn’t technically answer my question, I’m asking another one,” he said lightly, grinning wildly and it brought back the smile to your face. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Queens. Live there now, too,” you replied, wondering how on earth he was able to deduce that and watching the way he smiled to himself, nodding. “Why?”

“Not your turn to ask questions, Y/n,” Bucky teased, though he seemed pleased with your answer. “Make your move, Queens.”

You laughed, already feeling light again and amazed by how easy it was for him to bring that back out in you. You nudged a piece with your foot and swerved it around of two of his. You kicked two black pieces off the board.

“That’s two questions,” you pointed out and he shrugged, challenging you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you studied him for a moment. There were a million different questions you could ask. You thought about asking whether he’d been born and raised in the city like you, if he’d ever traveled abroad, what the military tag on his suitcase was for and if he ever served. You wondered if he was single, if this was a one night thing where you’d go your separate ways and never see one another again, if he was really as kind and as charming as he seemed because you still couldn’t believe he was real.

You were about to ask him something trivial because you were too afraid to get an answer that would break your heart when he cleared his throat.

“Or,” he started, nervously, “you could ask one big question?”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and waiting for him to continue.

He sighed. “You could ask about my sister. If you want?”

You paused, watching the way he swayed in his stance, arms fold tightly across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. She must be the girl in the picture on his phone, the reason why he started acting strange, upset, when he tried to tell you why he was going to Atlanta.

He nodded at you and you could tell he was ready, that he wanted to talk about it now, and you gestured to the wall adjacent to the game. He followed you silently, sliding down the wall to take a seat on the floor next to you. He folded his legs under him while you tucked your knees up to your chest, waiting patiently. You didn’t know the question to ask, but he let out a heavy sigh and started for you.

“Her name’s Rebecca. Bec. We used to travel alone a lot when we were kids to go see our dad,” Bucky said softly, scratching the back of his neck. “We had layovers here a lot and if the flight got cancelled, we’d just get stuck overnight. I mean, I was old enough to watch out for her okay so it wasn’t a big deal, but she used to get scared. So, I started making it a game. It happened more times than you would think and it managed to make her feel better, got her laughing. We used to spend all our money at that convenience shop on chips and candy and race in these halls and do cartwheels and blast music and play games over by that gate.”

You smiled as Bucky talked. He stared off across the gate to where your bags were, over where the memory he had been reliving earlier was, and avoided your eyes, but you knew this wasn’t the hard part of the story. You let him keep going without interruption.

“We got to know some of the people who worked here over the years, like Charlie,” he continued, though his voice dropped a little as he tried to clear his throat. He took in a heavy breath but he struggled to find his words again.

“That sounds really nice, Bucky,” you said encouragingly and he nodded.

“Yeah, she uh, she used to love it, but we don’t-- she doesn’t talk to me anymore,” he confessed, clenching at his jaw painfully and winging his hands in his lap.

You watched as he yanked and pulled on his fingers, a nervous habit you used to see in your father after he’d been in a near fatal car accident, a symptom of anxiety. Without giving yourself a second to back out, you reached into his lap and placed your hands over his until they stilled.

He froze, staring down at your hands and allowed you to pull his left from his right and carefully grasp it in your own hand, holding it tight and offering him a gentle smile. He exhaled, relieved, and squeezed your hand before he continued.

“I enlisted right out of high school,” Bucky said, pulling your hand to rest on his thigh as he ran his free hand over the back of your palm. “Bec was so pissed at me. Especially when they sent me overseas. But she still wrote, still answered my calls. Until I got hit by an IED and got my whole arm shredded.”

He pulled up part of his sleeve to reveal marred skin under the t-shirt he wore. It was faded, healed over the years, but still ridged, still mutilated by the blast. He sighed, pushing it back down like looking at it was even difficult for him. You squeezed his hand.

“I was home for a bit, just trying to heal,” he continued, “but once I was cleared by the doc’s, I wanted to go back. That was the last straw for my sister. She—she just couldn’t understand why I’d go back after that. She said she’d never speak to me again if I did and I tried to tell her that I had a duty, that I had friends who died in that blast and being over here was hell for me. It was back then. But she didn’t understand. She still doesn’t and she held true to her word. She hasn’t spoken to me since I went back, not since I came home either. I’m out now and I still can’t get her to return my calls. She just cut me off completely.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, heart breaking as he bit on his lip, clearly trying to suppress a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to be going to her college graduation,” he said tensely, sniffling a bit. “She doesn’t know, but Mom’s been on me to fix things for years. I just... I don’t know how and I’m fucking terrified that she’s going to take one look at me and tell me to leave or turn her back to me or, I don’t know, ignore me completely. She’s my little sister and I miss her but I don’t know how to make her understand. I’m not sorry for going back. It’s what I needed to do but, I hate that I lost her because of it.”

It was silent for a moment and you watched as the clock opposite you turned on three in the morning. Bucky’s breaths were uneven beside you as he tried to pull himself together. Each passing moment you spent with him, you only wanted to learn more, wanted to ease him through his pain, to make him smile and laugh.

But there was a truth he needed to hear.

“I’m not sure she’ll ever understand, Bucky,” you said slowly and Bucky clenched his jaw. It was clearly something he’d been thinking about, though he didn’t want to admit it. You sighed, rubbing at his hand in slow circles. “I don’t think anyone but someone who has lived through what you have could understand wanting to go back. She clearly loves you and she was probably terrified for you. Sometimes, when someone you love puts themselves back into the heart of danger like that, it's easier to shut down than deal with the possibility of losing them.”

Bucky nodded, taking in your words. You gave him the time he needed, letting him sit with the silence and the thoughts in his head until he was ready. You watched the gears turning, watched as he squeezed your hand in even intervals, and let out a steady breath.

“Sorry I’m such a bummer,” he said after a while, a tired laugh in his voice and he shook his head as you started to object. “I hate that I was relieved when our flight got canceled but I know I’ll have to find a way there regardless. I thought I’d spend tonight in this airport just sitting in my anxiety and thinking about all the ways I’ll disappoint her again, but then you spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole and you... you caught me by surprise, Y/n.”

He turned to you, his free hand snaking up to slide along your cheek, cupping the side of your face as his fingers danced in your hair. The way he was looking at you, with startling shades of blue and a sincerity you hadn’t known in a man in years, your stomach twisted and turned on itself in the best possible way. His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“It’s your turn,” you whispered, eyes drifting over to the game.

“Will you let me see you again?” he asked quietly without skipping a beat, not even bothering with the pieces on the board and you didn't mind, not as he was leaning closer to you, his breath against your skin.

His lips touched yours and it was sweet and short so impossibly brief because suddenly the overhead speakers let out a sharp, high-pitched chime as the transmitter turned on. You jumped at the shock of it and Bucky pulled away, the spell broken and the ghost of his lips aching on your own.

“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 937,” the voice called in muffled tone, “Please see an agent at Gate B9. Your flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:50am.”

You sunk against the wall and Bucky fiddled nervously with his hands.

“That’s your flight, isn’t it?” he asked, disappointed and you nodded. He sighed, hulling himself back up to his feet and offering you his hand. “We better get you over there in time, then.”

You looked up at him for a moment and contemplated just skipping the flight to spend a few more hours with him. Was it insane? Naïve? Maybe. But he was unlike anyone else you’d ever met and you didn’t think you could stand this being the last time you saw him.

“Come on,” he smiled sweetly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll walk you to your gate and everything, be a proper gentleman since you’d been so gracious tonight before I send you off--”

“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 1176,” the voice spoke again and Bucky froze, “please see an agent at Gate C2. Your new flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:30am.”

“Shit,” he cursed, glancing down at his watch to find it was already nearing 3:20. He clenched his jaw, looking down at you apologetically. “I... I have to go.”

You took his hand and he helped you back up to your feet, though he didn’t let go right away. He stared at you for a moment, longingly, like leaving right now was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing you wanted, too.

You walked with him, hand in hand, to the side of the gateway with your bags. He stuffed the snacks into the plastic bag and handed them to you, though you tried to resist, but he shoved them into your backpack with a smile anyway.

“Take the skittles, at least,” you tried to persuade him, “you picked those out.”

“I can’t stand ‘em, actually,” he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “I always got them for Bec. Guess I was a little stuck in routine.”

“So, take them with you,” you encouraged, kneeling down next to him and pulling the red bag from your luggage and placing it in his hands. He stared down at it for a moment, tensely. He didn’t meet your eye but you carefully rubbed at his shoulder until the tension drained. “Bring them for her. Call it a peace offering.”

Bucky smiled sadly, but he nodded, the appreciation clear in his eyes as he rose back to his feet and offered you his hand, which you took effortlessly.

“How did I manage to find you?” he asked so quietly so you almost didn’t hear it. He was watching you with a kind of bewilderment in his eye and your cheeks began to flush, until you noticed the clock affixed to the wall over his shoulder. Your heart sank.

“You should get going, Bucky. You’ll miss it,” you said, trying to mask the sadness in your voice though it did little use.

“Yeah,” he replied. He didn’t move.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, just staring at one another, wishing the night didn’t have to end. But you had a wedding to attend. And he had a graduation.

“Bucky,” you urged again, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, detangling your fingers with a new kind of determination. He reached into his bag and dug around for a pen and paper. Scribbling messy handwriting on the notepad, he ripped off a page and handed it to you.

“Take this, please,” he said, and you grasped the crumpled paper in your hand. A series of numbers listed on one side in thick black ink. “You don’t have to do anything with it if you don’t want, but I hope you do. I hope you call.”

You nodded, running your thumb along the dried ink before you met his eye again; blue unlike even the clearest morning sky.

“I have to run,” Bucky said sadly as he started to back away. “Thanks for putting up with me for a while.”

“Thanks for asking me to,” you called back, watching as he walked backwards as long as he could until he checked his watch again and grimaced at the time.

He wanted to say more, that much you could tell, but there wasn’t time. He gave you one last wave and turned on his heels, sprinting down the terminal and taking a sharp left. You watched until he disappeared from view and you were alone in the gateway, surrounded by his memories and a new one of your own.

The crumpled paper stayed firm in your grasp the entire walk to your newly assigned gate, your mind caught on Bucky with every step. Even as you boarded, as you sat in your seat and closed the window shade, leaning against the wall in an attempt to find rest, the paper never left the grip of your hand.

A crumpled paper with a number of a stranger. A friend. Maybe something more if you let yourself believe it.

It was exciting and terrifying and magical at once.

You slipped the paper into your pocket as the plane left the runway and lifted into the air, whirring sounds of the engines and cabin pressure lulling you to sleep.

You thought only of Bucky; of blue eyes and nervous laughs, of cartwheels and potato chips, of painful questions and reassurance unlike you’d had in years, of rosy cheeks and soft pink lips.

You weren’t sure you’d ever think of anyone else again.

How does it start? And when does it end? Only been here for a moment, but I know I want you But is it too soon? To know that I’m with you There’s nothing I can do [I’m With You - Vance Joy]

feedback is so so appreciated 💖(apologies if you got tagged twice - the whole post deleted itself for a hot second lol)

tags 🌸@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @imsoft-barnes / @galaxkay / @vitamingrant / @alohafromhell1 / @happyeyesandsunshine / @hillface89 / @searchingforbucky / @20coldhearts / @past-perfect-future-tense / @bucknasty-barnes / @clarysthing / @denimandcabernet / @ohthedevilsanus / @sarcasm-ing / @yknott81

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #buck barnes x female reader

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morgana-ren · 5 years ago

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Okay so I Need to ask. Repressed Shigaraki, after that initial night, how would he go about handling his libido. Like would he ask you out or just daydream a lot? What if it got out of hand (lol hand) and he couldn't take it

He… wouldn’t. Handle it, that is. He’s convinced himself that he’s “immune” to such temptation, so when it smacks him in the face like a damn ceiling fan, he has no clue how to go about it. He’s never dealt with overbearing lust before. This is all new to him. He’ll get a little hormonal rise every now and again but usually he can deal with it with the ol’ in-out four finger palm pump. Not this time.

He’s already feeling awkward and ashamed after the other night, as wacking off in public has a tendency to do to someone who is extremely sexually reclusive, and he was 100 percent correct when he thought that nothing would ever be the same again. When he sees you again the next morning, it’s all going to come rushing back, along with the overwhelming need force his tongue down your throat and other places as well.

But after a few seconds, he’s going to tell his head (both of ‘em) to shut the fuck up and try and play it off like everything is normal. He’ll do his best to conduct business, and he’ll actually do pretty well!

At least until you come and sit by him at the bar. You’re talking to him, saying something he’s sure is important but your words are turning to mush in his head because your scent is overwhelming. All he can think about is shoving his nose in your hair and inhaling until it clogs his sinuses and you’re all he can smell ever again.

He can’t think. He can’t focus. It frustrates him, so he’ll actively turn away from you, making himself seem as unapproachable as possible. His body language is outright hostile, and you seem to get the hint, because you look away and soon he can’t hear your voice anymore. Eventually you pick up and leave, but the haze doesn’t lift from his mind like he thought it would. He needs more.

He’ll retreat to his room, trying to stem back the tide of arousal. It’s like his body is trying to punish him for all those years he kept it locked away. But now that you’re so close, so close he can touch you, no cheap substitute is going to do. On some level, he realizes this, but it’s impossible. There’s no way someone like you would ever consider someone like him, and even if you would, he’s your boss. You’d never go for it.

Would you?

He feels the sudden need to seek you out now, test the waters. As much as his rational mind knows it’s the worst idea in the world, he isn’t thinking with his brain anymore. His cock might as well be the compass that points north between your snug thighs.

He shambles down the desolate hallways, still a little too nervous to try knocking on your door directly. That’s a bit too forward, at least for right now, and frankly he truly believes that if he catches sight of you almost naked again with a bed in view, he physically won’t be able to stop himself. So instead, he patrols around the lair, hoping to run into you ‘by chance.’

Lucky him, he actually finds you. Well, sort of. You’re in one of the bathrooms, taking a shower. His hand is around the doorknob and he’s already turned it halfway before it dawns on him just how inappropriate that is. He can’t just walk in on you bathing… right? He just stands there, frozen with a four fingered grip on the knob.

He should leave. He knows he should. There’s no excuse for this. He’s not socially inept enough to not understand how completely wrong this is, but instead of turning and leaving, he stays locked in place, mind running through every possible scenario.

His head clicks with equal measures resolve and frustration as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s not leaving, even as he wills himself to. His mind has made it perfectly clear that he’s going in that bathroom.

It’s not to peak on you! Honest!

It’s…. your perfume! Yeah, that! He was so rude to you earlier. He was thinking of getting you a gift to apologize. But he can’t remember the exact smell. If he can just smell it one more time, he’s certain he’ll be able to find it. I mean, he could just ask you later, but that would ruin the surprise, right?

He turns his hand oh so slowly, pushing his thin form between the barely opened door and frame. He can’t alert you to the fact he’s doing this. You wouldn’t understand. You would think he’s creepy or something. Just as he expected, your pile of clothing is sitting on the floor just outside the rim of the shower. If he moves slowly enough, he shouldn’t catch your attention. He can just grab your shirt and go.

But… as he gently picks up your shirt with two fingers, he sees them. Them, in this case, being your underwear. Perfectly settled in the hips of your discarded pants. He looks back and forth between the shirt, and the undergarment.

What if it wasn’t perfume? What if it was just, you know, your natural scent that smelled enticing to him? If he took your shirt, he’d never know. Your shirt and pants get bombarded with outside factors all day. Your panties though, those sit right against the skin. Surely, that’s the best way to tell. He wouldn’t want to waste your time getting you some shitty perfume if it wasn’t necessary.

Yeah, let’s go with that.

Swiftly, he discards the shirt to the side and opts for your panties instead. You’re less likely to notice these missing anyway. It won’t ruin the surprise! At least in his mind, the way he’s warped it.

He slips out as skillfully as he came, shutting the door behind him with you none the wiser that there had been two bodies in the bathroom. As soon as he can stand up right, he shoves your intimates into his pocket and scurries off to his room like a little rat that made away with a fat piece of cheese and didn’t want to share. Once he’s safely locked inside, he throws himself down on his bed and immediately pulls the thin fabric out, inhaling point blank against his nostrils.

He can’t help the ragged shudder that racks his body. It’s so perfect he can almost taste it. The slight tang and musk of your cunt fills his nose and he can’t help but feel a little resentful at the panties for being so close to you all day.

It’s definitely not perfume. It’s just you. But he could rationalize this to himself later. He has more pressing matters to deal with.

His cock throbs painfully beneath his zipper, and he all but whines as he relents to his baser instincts and pulls it out once more. At least this time he’s in the privacy of his own sanctum. He wants to make this quick, because maybe, just maybe, once he’s finished, you’ll no longer haunt his mind.

He keeps the panties pressed firmly to his face, teasing his thick tip with a few circular motions of his thumb before gripping himself and giving a few test strokes. He’s already excited, pleasure building just from the gentle touch he’s providing.

With nothing but your scent occupying his attention, it’s hard not to imagine you riding his face. He’d give a few soft, teasing licks, enough to get you worked up and whimpering. Your legs would be twitching, so he’d let his hands rest on your wiggling hips to steady you. Then he’d move on to broad stripes, thick, slimy muscle running over the entirety of your core, getting you nice and wet. At this point, he imagines you’d be rolling your hips, working against his face for friction as he moved just a little too slowly. He wants to drag this out, wants you to beg.

Only after you’re biting your lip and pleading him will he speed things up. Immediately, he’d force your hips down further, practically smothering himself in you. His tongue would begin moving faster, flicking over your clit and occasionally fucking you, swirling and thrusting until you’re practically wailing. Your white knuckled grip on the headboard barely serves to keep you grounded as you recklessly hump his face, practically suffocating him.

Frankly, he doesn’t mind. This is a way better way to go than any he’d imagined before.

Caught up in his fantasy, he can’t help but unleash his tongue from between his dry lips, lapping at the soft fabric he holds tightly between his fingers. If he imagines hard enough, he can actually taste you. There’s low grumble in his chest as he sighs your name, fisting his cock and pumping his own hips until somewhere far away, he can hear the squeak of his bed responding to his erratic movements.

He’s so close now.

By the time he’s done, you’d be dripping, his face covered in your slick juices. You’re practically crying now, screaming his name until everyone in the fucking base knows what you two were up to. He’d twirl and suck on your little nub until your thighs clenched around his head, throwing your head back and howling your orgasm to the moon. He would see you through it, still licking until he could feel your thighs fiercely waver, and drained of strength, you’d practically fall off his face and into the bed, legs splayed in hypersensitivity. You’re ready, it’s his turn now.

“Fuck!” He hisses, toes curling and cock pulsating in his hand as his sticky seed erupts all over his hand and upper stomach. His eyes are clenched shut, seeing stars as he practically shoves your panties in his mouth, trying to suck them dry in the heat of the moment. He needs to taste you, he needs it.

He softens his thrusts as he works his way though his orgasm, chest heaving and sweating until he finally relaxes. Half-hazardously, he wipes his hand on the side of his bed before removing his shirt and cleaning his abdomen off as well.

With the peak of his orgasm, he feels the shame again. He’d stolen a pair of your panties for fucks sake. This was getting way too far out of hand. Regardless, he picks them up off the bed from where he set them and walks over to a locked drawer, placing them gently inside. They wouldn’t stay fresh long, and honestly, he wasn’t sure how long they’d suffice anyway. He had to have the real thing.

He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do.

Only one thing was certain though, and that’s that things couldn’t continue this way. If things kept going this way, he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do. To you, at least.

#Shigaraki #Tomura Shigaraki #Lemon #Reader x Shigaraki #I am a S I N N E R #Listen I tried I wrote this on my phone when I woke up lmao #Anonymous

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taylorroger-s · 5 years ago

Text

𝔢𝔵 𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔬 // a six underground story

----- ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ -----

a/n i don’t want to preface this too much but this isn’t really a fanfic? there’s no pairing at the focus, and it’s really just a story in the 6u world because there is no way i’m letting micheal bay waste the potential of 6u. I worked extremely hard on this and the later missions and i’m really proud of it! so i hope you enjoy, there is much more to come! so here’s my masterlist, and no warnings except for swearing. enjoy :)

‎

𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖, 𝙽𝚈𝙲 ----------

‎

“nine, you have to get out of there.” one hisses into his headset, drawing the attention of the waiting driver. she rolls her eyes, anxiously scanning the block for any law enforcement or her team.

“you think i don’t fucking know that? but y’all better get your asses over here. feds are swarming even on the other side of the park.” nine gritts her teeth at every police cruiser slithering by, their flashing lights only adding to her growing anxiety.

“my hands are kinda full right now!” four shouts, breathing heavily into his microphone. things went south fast, and even their planned escape had been shaky at best. the mission failed and they need to get out of the city fast.

“get over here, and i’ll get you out. remember, i’m on columbus and west 92nd in front of the party city. ten minutes. now make like ghosts and disappear.”

‎

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 & 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚊

‎

tires squealed against the beat-up asphalt as two early model corvettes shot down an empty stretch of highway 75. bitter cold nebraska winter winds cut through to the bone as the pair curved around a rough bend of road surrounded on both sides by sprawling fields. the sun hung low on the horizon, struggling to light up the endless farmland. the only sound within ten miles was the roar of combustion engines mingling with crickets chirping as they passed by.

“cmon,” a woman muttered to her car, eyes narrowed as she scanned the makeshift racetrack. she couldn’t make out the taunt called out to her from the other driver, responding only with a raised middle finger and a sharp push on the accelerator. her car’s heavily modified engine purred under her touch, advancing on her opponent’s ride.

a window of opportunity finally appeared before her. she was no more than a foot behind him, another bend visible in her peripheral vision. exhaling slowly, she brought her left foot from hovering over the clutch to the brake. the turn came closer, wrapping around a hill. she could just about hear the squeal of her opponent’s brakes, pressing on her brake at the same time. they hurtled around the bend at dangerous speeds. coming out of the turn, her opponent switched his right foot from the brake to the gas pedal to accelerate out of the turn. but her foot was already there, giving her just a fraction of a second edge over his car. her ride edged up on his, a devilish grin spreading across her lips.

just as her dark red car was about to overtake his, the flash of distant headlights made them both freeze. she wanted to scream in frustration, but there was no time to think, lest she wanted to risk a head on collision. she very reluctantly pulled in behind his car, various scenarios for vengeance cycling through her head. their race was over. she had lost.

the semi truck passed them by without a second look, and after a few minutes the pair pulled into a decades old rest stop. the woman ran her fingers across the smooth dashboard of her car, thumb brushing over a small mark right by the unused radio. they made it fifteen miles before their race was rudely interrupted. a sudden knock on the windshield stirred her from her thoughts.

“too slow once again darling.” the man cooed, poisonous edge to his words. that was the third race she’d lost to him in six weeks. it was starting to damage her reputation as a notorious street racer in an innocuous corner of small-town america. the mechanics shop she worked for was the not-so-clever front of their racing circle - essentially the only friends she had - wherein she was the best. at least until that start up showed his face in gretna, nebraska- of all places.

“oh fuck off.” she grumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the last rays of the sun sinking below the horizon, plunging the rest stop into a chilling darkness. the sky was just beginning to show the shimmer of distant stars, rolling across the countryside in a thick blanket of night. constellations blinked into existence against the dark. a saying from her latin classes in college came to mind: natura non constristatur. nature doesn’t give a shit about you.

“as you wish. same time next week?” her rival called, already waltzing back to his car, hood shimmering silver in the burgeoning moonlight, a small rosary and fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. it was about ten years newer than hers, but not nearly as slick. at least in her opinion.

“one week and i’m gonna destroy your ass.” she responded, words almost drowned out by the subsequent start of his decades old engine. he loudly revved it a few times, overtaking any words she could possibly try to curse him with. there were a few choice latin phrases she had stored up.

“in your dreams!” he shouted, pulling onto the road and heading north, back to her hometown. and so she was left alone with her thoughts, only finding company in the infinite sky and hum of wildlife. the cold winter night started to pick away at her fading adrenaline, causing her teeth to quietly chatter as her eyes stayed focused on the heavens. what was she doing? she would never get out of nebraska, and her life would all be for nothing. but before she could fully spiral into existentialism, the allure of her bed came to mind; an area much more comfortable than the freezing drivers seat of her 1986 corvette.

she tore her eyes away from the nighttime sky with a huff, hand drifting to the gearshift. she started the engine, slowly moving the car into reverse. she didn’t think to check in the rearview mirror until a shout rang out over the hum. she slammed her foot on the brake, just before hitting whoever decided to fucking walk behind a moving car. the anger slowly simmering below the skin after her loss decided to boil over. she hopped out of the car before she even turned off the engine to tell off the prick who decided to ruin her moping.

"what the fuck man?” she was fuming so much the mystery figure could probably see the smoke pouring from her ears. she couldn’t quite make out their face since the only lamp within five miles lit them from behind. crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the trunk of the car, glaring at the intruder while she waited for an answer.

“wasn’t expecting that reaction. hello-” okay so definitely a guy, she thought, squinting harder to try and make out his face. he brushed off his pants before looking up at her, face obscured by shadow and sunglasses. at night. the tone of his voice irked her; infuriatingly playful even in the weird circumstances.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” she growled, bracing her hands on the burnished metal of her car. her nails tapped rhythmically against it, shifting her expression to appear as calm and intimidating as possible. there wasn’t another car visible in the parking lot as far as she could tell, and the man certainly didn’t appear to be a fallen angel. how and why was he there? but there was another, more concerning question picking at her mind: if he was there for her, how did he find her?

“is that how you always greet strangers?” the man quipped, still avoiding her question. a stranger was exactly what he was. general knowledge suggested to not talk to strangers, especially in an empty rest stop parking lot. in the middle of nowhere. fear crept up on her as the man smiled, whispering worries in her ear the longer he dodged her questions.

“what do you want?” she gritted her teeth, fingers slowly curling into fists. her instincts kicked into high gear as he took a few steps closer. his hands were tucked into his back pockets, and he looked disturbingly nonchalant as he approached her.

"heard about your racing. pretty good from what i’ve heard." now that threw her for a loop. why did he want to hear about her racing? however, logic was soon overshadowed by a wave of pride and she lifted her chin, looking straight into the man’s eyes through his sunglasses. it was too dark to glean anything from his expression, but she didn’t waver. she was better than pretty good.

"the best. now who's asking?" she nearly spat the last words out through gritted teeth, pushing off the car and taking a step forward. the man smiled at her bravado, crossing his arms over his chest.

"i have a job for you." she scoffed, shaking her head. it suddenly popped into her mind that he could be a criminal looking for a getaway driver or a scapegoat. but the seed of curiosity burrowing inside her brain won out.

"so you mind going into specifics?" she questioned him with heavy doubt in her voice.

"not here cupcake. but i need a driver.” the illegal path seemed more and more likely. ‘not here’ oh yeah, not suspicious at all. she was tempted to shut the conversation straight down and run, but there was nothing she could really lose by hearing more. worst case scenario, she gets frostbite and maybe put on a hit list. best case? there was no way of knowing.

"and why me?"

"like you said, you’re the best. and you have next to nothing tying you here. your skill is being wasted, but i can fix that. i can give you a cause to believe in. so how would you like a chance to actually change the world?" that stopped her. she hadn’t done anything worthwhile in a very, very long time. and believing in something? that was a distant memory. she didn’t believe in this man either.

"aquila non capit muscas. i’m not here for your nonsense.” she was aware that quoting her latin professor would earn herself an eye roll from the mystery man, but she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries nor dreamy exaggerations. she was starting to think he was insane. and yet, something in his words tugged at her heart. he sounded suddenly sincere. it was like he had read her mind.

“okay shakespeare, there certainly is some nonsense in this offer, sure. but it’s your best shot to get out of here. i am offering you freedom from everything holding you back.” five seconds passed. ten. fifteen. thirty. she mulled over his words over and over again, quickly disregarding how horribly vague they were. there really was no reason to take him seriously, and he had provided no details into this “job” which was starting to sound more and more illegal.

still. she turned to look at her car, scanning all its dents and imperfections. so many memories, so much history that had slowly made her jaded and cynical. so much to break free from. even though there was no evidence that this job was worth it, or that his promise of freedom rang true, she was tired of the bullshit.

“i’m listening.” a sharp smile spread across his lips, and he nodded.

"good. but there's one thing i need you to do before we get started. i need you to die"

-----

hey mary, and whoever else is reading. i guess this is goodbye. sorry you had to find out this way.

it doesn’t matter what i once wanted to be. i didn’t get it. but this is what i want. i promise. i’m sorry to ghost you. but this is what’s right for me. see you on the flip side.

faking her death was almost disturbingly simple. a burning car at the base of a ravine, suicide note found just outside the melted frame. no reason to pursue an investigation. attending her funeral was the most surreal part. until then, the weight of her decision hadn't felt real. she watched as her sister, her coworkers, and even her racing rival said their last goodbyes at what they thought was her final resting place. she couldn’t watch anymore when her sister began to sob, and the man, who had identified himself as one, dragged her away before she had a chance to break down

the night before she faked her death, she sat on her bedroom floor, chopping off locks of hair and silently contemplating what she was about to do. the rules that one gave her were simple in theory, but horribly complicated in reality.

cities you have never been to. people you have never met. numbers instead of names. only talk to your fellow ghosts. plural. she was about to be thrown in with a band of hungry revolutionaries with similar shady pasts. at least, she assumed that's who she would find once one took her to the last home she would ever know. last home. she cycled through the pros and cons for the hundredth time, weighing them over and over.

no more taxes. no more criminal background. no crazy ex chasing her. no expectations to leave behind. pure freedom, if she followed the rules of course. the homegrown american girl she once was would die, and in her place: nine.

cons? those were a little more iffy. her sister mary was a senior in highschool and just turned 18. mary was all she had left, and vice versa. even though mary was technically an adult and could fend for herself, she still felt guilty. more of her hair fluttered to the ground. if she was going to have a new name, she might as well get new hair. it was rough around the edges, horribly uneven, and made it look as though she had lost a fight with a weed whacker. fitting.

not too long after, she was in a plane on her way to nowhere. she was completely alone in the cabin, one piloting from the cockpit. nine was mesmerized by the sprawling land thousands of feet below as they moved west. it was her first, but definitely not her last time on a plane.

was it insane? yes. was it almost a certain ticket to an actual early grave? definitely. and yet, every time she finished looking through her list, there was only one outcome that came out of it all. a death with more meaning than her life would ever bring. she would miss her sister, and the few friends left behind, but for the first time in a long time, the apathy faded away.

‎

𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 ----------

‎

“alright motherfuckers, i finally got our asses a driver.” one called out into the dark belly of the old aircraft, lit only by a few glowing screens. nine followed him in, holding tight to her small duffel bag full of the only possessions one let her take, the logo of her high school plastered on the side.

“wow, only took you six months.” one flipped on a light switch, turning on a few lightbulbs in the center of the room, illuminating six figures gathered around a rusted metal table. each one looked like they were from a completely different planet.

“thank you for the attitude four, i hate it.” one cheerfully pointed to a chiseled blond man wearing a worn blue hoodie. she assumed rightly that he was four, and based on the accent, also british. she idly wondered how he ended up in the same place she was, or in the same place as the rest of one’s mismatched crew. a crew that she was now a part of.

“six was already too fucking much. then seven. and now eight.” a slightly scary, tall blonde woman spoke, thick french accent coating her words. despite the venom, it almost looked like she had never moved her lips, an eerily blank expression stuck on her face. nine suddenly felt extraordinarily childish with her “gretna dragons” bag, the faded green fabric full of pulled strings and various stains. just the way she stood make nine feel in over her head. one took it all in stride.

“well i don’t see you volunteering to give up your handguns and get in the driver's seat, and eventually you agreed to eight for the same reason, so shush.” nine looked between one and two, and their silent standoff. two rolled her eyes, essentially surrendering to nine’s presence. nine let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she had a feeling it would be a shit idea to be on that woman’s bad side.

“this is nine. nine, this is two, three, four, five, seven, and eight.” one pointed to them each in turn: the tall blonde woman, a hispanic man with a full beard, the startlingly attractive blond man, a woman with aviator sunglasses hanging from her shirt, a tall dark-skinned man who seemed much less stony than the others, and a tall girl wearing an excessive amount of leather. but there was something else that worried her more than the mismatched group one presented. a number was skipped.

“wait, could i get a quick rundown of who does what?” nine assumed there was a reason for each person to be there.

“i’m a billionaire and…”

“i’m blaine. that’s camille, javier, billy, amelia, and sofia” seven - blaine - cut one off. nine was caught off guard; it seemed one declined to mention that ‘numbers instead of names’ were more of a formality for the rest of the team. the rules she was told must have been one’s original vision.

“seven-” one tried to silence blaine, but was stopped with a glare. apparently one was equally against the names as seven was with numbers. it was intriguing, but nine wasn’t willing to dig further into his mind, nor was she okay with sharing her name. she wanted to leave everything behind.

“nope, she’s part of the team now. numbers are for missions. what’s your name?” she seized up, eyes moving to each person to identify names with faces, something she had never been good at. numbers just seemed so much simpler.

“no.” nine responded flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. seven froze, but held his hands up in surrender. one nodded approvingly to nine, and continued with his explanation of everyone’s roles.

“she knows what’s up. now, two is the spy, three is the hitman, four is the skywalker…” though one’s titles didn’t give extraordinary detail, having ‘the skywalker’ as a job description was simply puzzling.

“the hell does that mean?” she asked, eyes flicking just for a moment over to four before returning to one.

“he does parkour, five is the doctor, seven is the sniper, eight is the scout, and you are…” one continued without missing a breath, and nine suspected he predicted that question. four caught her eye and winked.

“the driver?” the sly smiles suddenly slipped from the ghost’s faces as they exchanged guarded looks. nine had a sinking feeling as to why.

“that was six, our last driver. let’s hope you avoid the same fate.” his grim words carried a little-too-lighthearted tone. well that’s reassuring, she thought. not worrying at all. one rubbed his hands together, walking over to one of the walls in their airplane shell meeting room. nine pieces of paper were on the wall, eight of them with roman numerals going up from two, and one with a photo of a man who had a giant red x on his face. his face tugged at nine’s memory. he must have been on the news. this operation might just be bigger than she expected.

“gather around the fire, cleavers, target two. corporate mogul noah kenneth carpenter,” one took down the page labeled “ii” and behind it hung a photo of the titular capitalistic businessman. nine felt like she was about to hurl. she knew that face. any guilt for leaving faded away in one fell swoop; this was the vengeance she yearned for. her sister mourned her loss, but nine could now strike back stronger than the girl she was could ever dream of.

“been accused of fraud, sexual harassment, shady international dealings, labor abuse. textbook scumbag, yet rich enough to keep himself in the clear. and we’re going to take him down. there are three simple steps, except there’s more than three and they’re not simple.” there was a beat of silence after that, which nine used to take a closer look at her new teammates. three had his feet propped up on the table, two standing behind his chair with her hand on his shoulder. four leaned forward on his elbows, green eyes focused on one. five had her arms crossed over her chest, and seven had his attention focused on one’s presentation, posture perfectly straight.

“what’s the first of these not-so-simple steps?” eight asked, picking at the thin blade of a small knife in her hands. she was a step behind the others, on the other side of seven. no longer the newest on the team, but still separate from what nine could tell. she couldn’t help but feel for the other girl.

“glad you asked kiddo,” one grinned, a dangerous edge to his expression. “nine, i’m assuming you heard of the major disruption of the peace in florence eight months ago, and the subsequent coup in turgistan?” there was something bordering pride in his voice. nine could see small, sharp smiles from the ghosts as they glanced to each other.

“vaguely, not much international shit made its way to me.” that was true. local news stations only showed things like county fairs and local robberies on the rare occasions nine would turn on the tv, and she didn’t care enough to go in search of global issues that didn’t concern her.

“well that was us, and this is about to be on a similar scale. except for the unstable geopolitical aftermath. probably.” nine raised her eyebrows. it was difficult to wrap her head around these six underground vigilantes rocking the boat with nothing but varying, potentially deadly, specializations. it made her even more curious as to what she could do with them, and what she could do to noah carpenter.

“anyway, the mission. the ultimate goal is to get him locked away, preferably not dead so he can rot in federal prison, but you can never tell with two and three on the squad,” two and three glared at one in unison, three miming slitting someone’s throat, but one just smiled. nine was starting to catch on to the group dynamics.

“but before kenny can get a messy prison tat, we have to dig up some major dirt on him. something to destroy his legacy, drag his company through the mud, take away everything he took from the people.” nine could feel a dark smile spreading across her lips. a cause to believe in indeed.

“so, there’s a big tech meeting thing in new york next month, and we are going to be there, along with mister exploitation over here,” one gestured crudely to the photo of carpenter pinned roughly to the thin wall. the sneer on the businessman’s face made nine’s blood boil. she was already on board with whatever the plan was going to be, and couldn’t wait to lend her driving skills to take him down.

“what skyscraper am i crawling up now?” four sounded uninterested, cocking his head to the side.

“it’s the guggenheim, and you’re not exactly crawling, more like sneaking. step one is going to be infiltrating. i have gotten intel saying that some shady deal is going down between him and a foreign mogul guy. we need to hear it all. the following missions are a little more iffy, and if we don’t find any dirt or evidence… well this is gonna take longer than anticipated.”

“this is almost as vague as our last plan.” three quipped, idly invested in the small pistol in his palm. he aimed it at various spots around the room with disinterest, to which everyone responded by ducking and dodging his aim.

“and that’s how i like it. no logical order means no one will expect what is coming.” nine just blinked at one in astonishment. her fantasies of justice tilted towards the farfetched with one’s confident admission of having no foolproof evidence to jump off of.

“doesn’t that make it harder for us?” nine asked, unsettled by how calm everyone else seemed to be. her initial worries about one’s offer being vague came back to the forefront of nine’s mind. her instincts on the night she met one might have been more accurate than she realized, but she was in much too deep to change her mind.

“you get used to it,” two admitted. nine almost flinched when she heard the slightly scary blonde woman speak. the comfort caught nine off guard more than two’s words.

“now here is what our first mission is gonna play out…” one pulled out blueprints from a box under the table. pens and sharpies in hand, he started to draw out how their mission would go. he was about to start talking when he looked over his shoulder to see nine still standing a few feet from the group. he flashed her a winning smile and beckoned nine forward. the rest of the group was facing her, softening towards their newest ghost. here goes nothing.

nine took a deep breath in, then out, and took a step forward, officially leaving the past behind and entering her new death.

--------------------

yaydyfyaydfyasoudfhasode it’s posted!!! I have the first chapter underway and way too many ideas for how this is going to go. but here’s some hints for the future: a sparring scene, city traffic, hiding in a castle and much tension to come! stay tuned :)

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

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salamanderskin · 5 years ago

Text

Mad Max Fury Road fic for Sitruksista

This is a commission for @sitruksista- hope you like it :)

It is entirely too Goddamn hot. It's always too hot in the Wasteland, but for some reason it's hitting him hard today. Max leans over the steering wheel and squints against the sun and cloud of dust the car kicks up, until he can see the smudge on cliffs on the horizon. The land below them is a different colour, maybe almost green. Driving towards it feels good. He hadn't been planning to come back to Citadel any time soon. He hadn't intended to come back for the visit before this either, yet here he is again.

He must have misjudged the distance because the sky gets dark suddenly and he realises he will have to sleep in the car. Not the he minds especially: this car isn't a bad one for it. It isn't his beloved V8 Interceptor, but the seats are broad enough to stretch out on, the doors lock tight and make a snug haven. Safe as a snake in a burrow.

It feels good to stop and pull over. When he was driving he was distracted and he couldn't feel the complaints of his body, but as soon as he rises from the seat it all floods back. Here is the ache in his back from sitting for two long, the whole body complaint that comes from living with little water, the gritty feel of sand on his skin. Here is the dull, radiating pain in his right side that came from a tussle in Gastown two days ago. Here, too, is a feathering itch in the back of his throat which is scraped and sore when he swallows. He sniffs, swallows, sniffs again. These things he tallies up without self-pity, taking an account of himself as he would check an engine. He can't do anything about any of them, so he lies straight down.

At night the temperature drops sharply. He settles to sleep dressed in his thick jacket and under the couple of blankets that came with the car. It's more comfort than he's used to and Max expects to fall immediately asleep, but it doesn't come. Instead he lies looking up at the stars through the sunroof, watching as his own breath becomes visible in the air. Each breath comes with a little stab of pain in the side of his chest. The bruising feels deeper than skin level, like it is spread between his ribs, and when his lungs inflate they fight the motion. To make matters worse, from the moment he lies down he can't seem to stop sniffling and the fluid is irritating his throat further. It doesn't bode well. He groans and rubs a knuckle under his nose until he is finally able to sleep.

He wakes later than expected, with the sun already well over the horizon. The car has gone from freezing to a greenhouse moist with his own sweat.

As he rises the itch in nose is suddenly fanned. All he can do is draw a ragged breath to sneeze convulsively, directing his head over his shoulder. “CHIZSCH!!” A boot of pain sears from his ribs.

And again- “hg--CHIZSCH!!”- as he bends to lace his boots. He presses a palm to his side but the motion is just as painful.

And again as he starts the engine. This time it lingers at the edge of his senses, leaving him to pant and shake his head as he waits for it to come. He doesn’t want to risk the pain again, and endeavours to make the release as small as possible, a strangled “hsssecchtt!” against his balled up fist. It makes his eyes water and his head ring but it doesn’t make him feel like he is being kicked again, so that is a small success at least. If he can just sneeze as little as possible, the rest of the drive should go smoothly.

...................

The security around the towering bulk of the citadel has not weakened since the Immortan’s fall, but imperator Furiosa and her band of faithful have changed the protocols such that the moment Max is recognised he is escorted through.

The bunch of gangly teens on the gate burst into delighted yells when they clock him.

“We’ll tell the Imperator.”

Max grunts in the negative then says more clearly, “No.”

He holds enough authority that they back off respectfully and allow him to skulk into the citadel more or less unmolested. A gaggle of War Boys converge on the car as soon as it is stationary. Grabbing monkey hands reach to feel the edges, smear in the grease and peek under the chassis to size it up. Unwanted touching of any kind makes Max’s hackles rise and he snarls at them until they back away.

He regrets it at once- the boys are only curious, and the exclamation tears through his throat like a swallow of hot lead, sparking a brutal fit of coughing that make him double over.

His head doesn’t clear when the coughing does. His vision is left blurry and lurching, his sinuses clogged. Despite the wasteland sun he finds himself shivering and the back of his neck if bathed in cold sweat.

Not good. None of this is good. It makes him feel vulnerable. Trapped and lost and split between the impulse to crawl into a hole and come out then it’s over, and to dash back out into the open desert where the open sky might make his skin feel less tight. Another sneeze hits; a few miserable minutes to brace against his ribs and pray it won’t happen, followed by equally miserable minutes of frantic, ticklish breaths as he prays it will. Anything to purge the wretched tickle.

He is aware he looks ridiculous as he squints at the sun. Draws a heady, preparatory “uhhh-“ and lets it out again multiple times before he finally sneezes.

After all that, the itching feeling is barely gone. Not good at all.

Max doesn’t know his way around. He has never stayed for more that a week at a time and the Citadel is a labyrinth of corridors, roaring industrial equipment Being back again makes his heart jump and the muscles twinge. Being back makes the visions and faces and memories louder and harder to quell. He asks an effort to avoid the hellhole the Immortan had called the infirmary. Max doesn’t know if he can keep it together in the face of those machines.

Instead he wanders. It is surprisingly easy to find a spigot where can refill his canteen. It seems Furiosa and her women have wasted no time in sharing Joe’s hoarded water table with the masses. The simple luxury of it takes his breath away. Max drinks and drinks, savouring the coolness against his raw throat. It doesn’t occur to him to splash his flushed face. That would be an unholy waste.

This done, he paces the inside of the Citadel. It’s largely quiet. It seems the population have moved from the miserable tunnels to the newly developing gardens on the sheltered north side of the cliff. The old halls are all but abandoned. That suits him. It’s getting harder to keep straight as he walks. There are speckles at the edge of his vision. He needs to find a place to lie down.

He walks for a long time and finds himself meandering downwards into smaller and smaller rooms, getting further away from any natural light. It feels safer and there is no one to look at him when he is seized by an ugly coughing fit or tries to blow his clogged nose. Eventually he finds what looks like a bunk room. There are arrays of beds with thin mattresses stacked three high. Some of them still have sheets and pillows and some of them even are clean. Max knows he should let Furiosa and the others know he is here. They would treat him like a king, give him food and water and a real bed... and they would look at him and talk and ask questions and it would all be more than he can bear. He'll make himself know later, when he has rested up a bit. If he could just shake this head cold or whatever it is, he'd be able to make a decision. Maybe even remember why he is here. Instead he chooses the bed furthest from the door and gathers enough blankets to cocoon himself.

Lying down makes the pressure shift in his nose. He knows he is going to have to sneeze again and if he does so while lying like this, the effect on his injuries will be catastrophic. In frantic dread Max manages to sit up and brace against the back wall, pressing both palm hard into his rib cage as though holding back a tide. Once he is ready the sensation eases away, of course, and he snarls in frustration, worrying a knuckle beneath his septum in an attempt to bring it on. He itch-itch-itches at it until all he can do is draw a gasp and slam the resulting sneezes into his waiting shoulder.

“hsssecchtt!-- hsssecchtt!--- hk-hsssechue! Fuck- HHSSChue!”

That last one knocks all the air from him and he groans, lying back and trying to settle. Max didn't think he'd ever relax here in Immortan Joe's Citadel-as-was, but his eyes weigh shut and he falls into a sudden, fretful sleep.

... …....................

It doesn't take long for the news to pass through the Citadel.

Imperator Furiosa has often imagined Max returning. In idle moments she works on different scenarios that feature him striding out of the desert like a conquering hero. These ring false even in her fond imagination. She barely knows the man she had called 'fool'. It had been hard enough to drag a name out of him, let a alone an affectionate reunion. He isn't the type. That said... arriving without warning and holing up in a back-room like a rabbit in a den? That was contrary and stubborn enough that it might actually be true.

Upon locating the room, she pauses at the threshold to draw a steadying breath. She feels for the gun at her waist, the knife in her boot and the calm, confidence in her stance. She is not afraid of him but she has seen the way he sleeps and the way he wakes as though chased by hungry ghosts. So she clears her throat, then taps a knuckle on the door frame. Lets him know she is there in plenty of time.

In response there is a startled, animal sounding snort, followed the sound of a convulsive cough. Furiosa herself is startled by the sound- she thinks she can feel her heart kicking the adrenaline through her system. That is definitely because of the sudden sound. Nothing at all to do with how good it is to see him again.

There he is. Her fool. Max. He is half-sitting on a bed in the back corner of the room and coughing fit to choke. Furiosa waits until he is finished coughing and looks up.. Then waits a moment more for him to blink away the ghosts.

“Hey.”

Recognition dawns. “You.” He rasps.

“Me.” She affirms. He seems calm enough, maybe even pleased to see her, so she approaches the bed and makes to squat down beside him.

Apparently this the wrong thing to do.

Max pushes frantically away from her until his back is against the wall. He casts her an expression she can't read, all squinted eyes with the corners of his mouth twitching into a snarl that makes him look completely feral, then-

“huh—CHIZSCH!!” His head snaps down and he sneezes with cringing strength. This is followed by a miserable groan as he nurses he hands against one side of his chest in obvious pain. He gestures her away from him between shallow, desperate pants before he is hit by another round of sneezes. By the time he is finished, his nose is red raw as he abuses it with the sleeve of his shirt.

He tries again to shoo her away but it is distinctly half-assed- he knows already that she doesn't take commands from him. True to form, she ignores his defences and settles beside him on the mattress. He rises to sitting and there is no disguising the pain the movement causes.

Furiosa winces in understanding. “You look like shit.”

Max nods, snorts back congestion. “Sick.” He explains, eyes cast down.

“And the rest?” She gestures at his cringing curl to one side.

“Ribs.” He shrugs.

“Broken?”

He shakes his head. “Bruised.” “Let me see?” She comes a little closer, tries to touch him only to have him shy away again, shake his head more violently. Oh yeah, he isn't one of the touch-starved War Boys who sleep in puppy piles for warmth. She needs to work up to actual physical contact.

“Okay, okay!” Backing off, hands raised. However even from this distance she can feel the cooking heat of a fever coming from his back.

“You're burning up.” She tells him.

He shakes his head again. “Cold.”

“Nope, that's just you. If you come upstairs you can see Capable. She's getting really good with herbs now, she'll be able to give you something.”

She already knows he'll refuse but she has to offer. From this angle she can see how he shivers, see the tiny hairs rising in goose-flesh along his limbs despite the warmth of the room. He looks longingly at the rumpled sheets he has pushed to the floor, so she passes them and nests them over his lap as much as she can without invading his space.

“Or I can get Capable to bring some medicine down here?. Something for your ribs, and some hot water?” She coaxes.

Another vehement head shake. Max's breath gets quick and noisy, agitated by the very idea of another person and he starts coughing again. He tenses as though to run away, pushes back further into the wall with his eyes darting to each corner of the room.

“Okay, okay, okay. No new people. Just me. Lie down at least?”

He would dearly like to brace against to ease down in the bed, but manages himself with a small production of grunting and gritted teeth. When he settles, Furiosa passes the blankets so he can pull them up to his chin. She snatches another from an adjacent bunk and adds it to the pile.

Max scrubs the heel of his hand against his nose and sniffles, or tries to sniffle, and she can hear the wall of congestion in his head. Another sneeze would be unfortunate at this point and it looks like it won't be long. With this in mind, Furiosa stands and tells him,

“I'm going away for ten minutes. But I'm coming back. Just me, okay?” She isn't sure if he hears but he doesn't actively protest so she leaves him to snuffle.

As she paces the corridor, Furiosa wonders what the hell she is doing. She is about the furthest thing from a nursemaid. Max is a terrible patient. She has a hundred important things she should be doing right now and none of them are tending to that fool who will clearly be fine in a few days. She cracks her knuckles on one hand and fiddles with the mechanics in her prosthetic arm as she marches through her domain, gathering items... She must be growing sentimental.

When she returns to the sickroom, Max has stopped shivering. His eyes have a hot, glassy look and his lips and nostrils are equally cracked and dry. She sloshes the water in the canteen to get his attention and passes him some clean cloths from the infirmary.

“First, blow your God-damn nose.”

Max gives her a dirty look.

“Fool...” she grows warningly.

So he does. It's a horrible, heavy sound but he seems to breathe more easily afterwards.

When he rises to sitting and lets her settle beside him, she allows him the water. This is followed by a cup of the tea that the women have been making from those hardy, mentholish herbs coaxed from their bounty of ancient seeds. Max raises an eyebrow at it, questioning.

“It won't poison you. It's supposed to be good for this kind of thing. Capable's been giving it to the War Boys.”

Max takes a sip then puts the cup down hastily, raises a hand to to hover in front of his nose as his expression grows slack with another building sneeze. Furiosa catches the weak –uhh- at the back of his throat as he tucks a cloth over his nose and smothers the sneezes to tight, almost soundless exclamations. She can feel the mattress shake with the suppressed force but it doesn't seem to hurt his ribs so much that way. When he keeps shuddering with sneeze after sneeze, she rests a hand on his heaving back. She fully expects him to shrug her off as soon as he regains his senses, but he actually tolerates the touch. God he is warm though. It's like sitting beside a furnace.

Eventually he recovers enough to drink the tea. He looks up at her over the cup, not seeing her at all but looking over some inner wasteland brought closer by the fever. He blinks at her in surprise when she takes the cup form him, as though he expected someone else.

“M' gonna go to sleep.” He rasps; a long speech by his standards.

“Good idea. You're safe here.” She agrees.

This time he uses her shoulder as leverage to lie himself down, and when she sits beside him on the narrow mattress he doesn't shy away. It must be the fever making him docile, like a fierce dog undone before a hearth fire. She is fascinated by the slackness of his rough hands against the cotton sheets, by the shadows under his eyes and the flush at his cheeks that makes him look almost like a doll. His breathing stays raspy and she can hear the sickness in each breath, but it slows to a steady, satisfying rhythm.

She thinks he must be asleep already when one eye cracks open.

“Say that again?” Max asks in a cracked whisper.

“Say what again?” Her mind casts back a few beats and- oh.

“You're safe here.”

As if that was all he was waiting for, he falls asleep at once.

END.

#salamanderskin's fic #sneezefic #hurt/comfort #fever #caretaking #whump

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whereisthefood123 · 5 years ago

Text

Two words mightier than iron

Setting: Alvarez arc, before the battle against Bloodman, the chapter/episode of "you're under arrest for complaining too much"

Words: 1.8k

Prompt Lovefest19: Day 2- Kiss me

A/N: It's been a while guys! As usual, I'm late for the event lol! This is for day 2 of Gajevy Lovefest 2019 - “kiss me” @gajevyevents. Thank you so much to @ranunculusfox for beta reading this :D Hope you guys enjoy this little thing I wrote! SFW even if it's for lovefest :)

AO3 // FFNET

"Kiss me"

It's a whisper and a clamour. It's a plea and a command. It's everything he wanted to hear and yet Gajeel's world is turned upside down by her words.

Figures. Words have always been her power, her domain, her weapon.

Yet, she doesn't wield them to strike Gajeel down, but he's still close to collapsing on his knees in front of her. Her words are always kind but powerful enough to bring down his iron walls, the ones he had carefully crafted around his heart.

Stay away. His walls had proclaimed a long time ago in cast-iron forged with the fire of his hate and cruelty.

But with each flick of her eyelashes that revealed bright hazel eyes, a new crack appeared on his walls. By the time they were on Tenrou Island, his walls were all but non-existent, yet he still believed he had them. Gajeel needed to believe it, he had survived within these walls; a dragon without a castle is a beast without a purpose. What was the dragonslayer without his barriers but a simple man with nothing to offer but iron fists and roars to the most amazing woman in the world?

Time passed since Tenrou, and he found himself sharing a living space with Levy and Lily in the Council's Headquarters. New walls rose around his heart, taller, mightier, sturdier than before. Instead of hate and cruelty, these new barriers were built from self-hatred and insecurities. She was too good for him, and he was a bastard that didn't deserve the love she was offering him so willingly. Besides, he reasoned, it had everything to do with her angelic nature and not with him; it couldn't be that she loved him. She was someone always willing to love everything. She loved every book, every fictional character she met in the lines of ink and paper, she trusted every stranger on the street and believed the world could be a kind place where anyone would enjoy the simplest things life had to offer, like a cup of coffee shared among friends, or the smell of the early blossoms in spring.

Gajeel loved her for this; he loves her for this. She was so simple and yet so amazingly complicated at the same time. A puzzle his mind and heart were still trying to decipher after all this time, and he enjoyed every single new detail he learned about her. Like how she is not a morning person, or how her smile widens when the early stars shine in the night sky; how her eyes light with something fiercer than the breaths of the fire dragons, or how her soul rejoices when a mission is completed with no major injuries involved.

She was everything he had ever wished for in a life partner yet she was also everything he had never thought he needed. He hated himself for loving her so much and his self-hatred only grew when he was reminded of how they've met. But the simplest things like one of her smiles thrown his way or the blush that tinted her cheeks when he was a bit too close to her, made him believe that maybe he was worth it. That maybe this, whatever it was, was right. That he could spend his life by her side, no labels attached, even when he was oh so willing to go down on one knee and offer her the world, a promise forged in an iron ring. He would be content to be by her side as long as she would let him.

But now, with the war against Alvarez looming over them and the battlefield so close to their campsite, Gajeel felt true fear for the first time in his life. Not even when Metalicana left had he lost his sleep like he did this night. Nightmares were familiar to the mage who wallowed in self-hatred since the Fairy Tail emblem was tattooed on his left shoulder. But this night, he couldn't even close his eyes without seeing the image of a blue-haired fairy lying face down unmoving on a flower field covered by snow and her blood staining deeply into the white layer turning it crimson.

He had sought some comfort in looking at the horizon, making sure no enemy would ambush them as the rest of the team slept snuggled close to the small bonfire to chase away the chill of the night. But he had sensed how restless she was since the moment their journey to the North began. It was no surprise when her shuffling steps came closer to him, the snow crunched under her light feet.

What surprised him were her words. Not that it was something uncommon, yet this time, her words lacked the usual breath of kindness and fierceness laced between each letter. Instead, insecurities traced the shape of her words, faintly reminding him of the essence that strengthens his iron walls. She worried about the battle and feared she wouldn't be strong enough to deal with this enemy. Gajeel could still hear her conviction underneath her self-doubt. She wouldn't back down from the fight, even when she thought the enemy to be extraordinary; she would go all out to protect her guild, her friends, her family.

That's what terrified Gajeel the most. The image of the blue-haired fairy on the flower field covered by crimson snow came back to his mind and he shivered.

Not a chance. He wouldn't let that happen. He would protect her; they would come out victorious from this battle. Fairy Tail would prevail so the iron dragonslayer could spend his afternoons at every bookshop in Magnolia accompanying a short blue-haired fairy in search for the latest novels she craved for so much.

He doesn't really know how to convey this though. Words were always her thing, not his. So, he let his magic flow, and it forms the iron pillars that now surround her. But she isn't afraid, maybe annoyed, but not fearful, not from him, not anymore since that day he took Laxus's lightning strike on her behalf. He leans close to her, maybe too close for someone who swears to be content with just spending time with this tiny fairy, with just being friends with her. Then, he makes a promise, hidden among his weird threats of imprisonment.

Thanks to any deity above she gets it, she deciphers the hidden message as easily as she has decoded ancient tomes. Then, she smiles at him, soft lips tilting up and eyes shining impossibly bright and it's all for him. With no one else around, he takes his time to commit to memory every single detail of her ethereal features. His hands twitch, yearning to hold her, to embrace her so carefully, to get tangled in her soft blue waves and rub gentle circles on her back.

As he's willing his hands to still and his mind to lock away his fantasies, she utters two words and his world turns on its axis as if the ground had exploded under his feet.

"Kiss me," Levy's soft voice commands him. She takes a step forward. He can almost feel her warmth so close to his body.

He notices it, of course, he notices it! How her eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and linger there, longing, yearning for something that could be but requires an enormous amount of courage to reach for it.

Gajeel always prided himself of his strong walls and iron hide. But two words, two words from the fairy that could will any letter to life with a flick of her fingers, had his barriers vanishing. They didn't crumble as Gajeel had expected. No, if they had crumbled to dust it would have been devastating, he would have felt vulnerable, exposed, raw to the world to mock the simple man that hid behind these walls. Instead, her words lifted his walls, they went up in light specs willingly and beautifully until they mixed with the stars above and shone in the galaxies hidden in her hazel eyes. His iron walls had kept the entire world at arms' length, Levy included. But the tender breath infused in her words made him see, for the first time, the path that lay ahead of him, where Levy stood with an extended hand for him to take and a gentle smile on her lips. There was no destruction, no havoc, no despair, there was only peace as his barriers lifted, as the blindfold tied securely around his heart was undone and he could finally see the eyes that shone a bit brighter only when they looked at him.

There is no hesitation when he dissipates the distance between them and leans even closer to her. With their breaths mingling together, he waits for a baited second, searching her eyes for the smallest trace of hesitation.

He finds none.

His lips seal over hers in a gentle caress, while his hands find their purchase at the back of her head and the small of her back. He breathes her in and everything, for once, feels right in Gajeel's life. Everything falls in place. A second that feels like an eternity yet too short for him makes him forget their beginning, his mistakes, his hatred and cruelty, his self-loathing and insecurities, the war looming over them threatening their future. Everything feels right just by holding Levy in his arms and kissing her soft lips with such tenderness that even Gajeel doubted himself capable of.

When their lips part, he looks at her with half-lidded eyes, begging to anyone, anything, that this is real and not just another clever hoax created by his mind. Because he had dreamt about this a thousand times if not more. But never, in all those scenarios, had his mind been able to portray the utter joy that radiates from her smile in this moment. She is beautiful, so full of love, of light, of kindness and oh so willing to share it with Gajeel.

He is such a lucky bastard.

Then, he notices something else. Just a quick flick of his eyes to her lips and he sees it. The promise he's made, sealed on her lips. A promise for a future together, for a family, for happiness.

He cannot hide the smirk that tugs at his lips. She is a cunning little fairy, a renowned script mage across all Fiore. She knows the power of words. And she also knows a kiss to be stronger than words thrown to the wind. No war, no enemy, no disaster would be able to keep Gajeel from tasting his fairy's lips one more time, in a peaceful moment, in the comfort of their shared home, in the quiet of the night.

I love you, Levy.

He lacks the courage, or the ability, or maybe both, to utter the words. But by any divine being that is looking after them, Levy understands him. Words were her prowess and she had learned long ago how to read Gajeel like an open book, her most favourite book.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy this :) leave a comment/reblog if you did! I'll try my best to write more often now that I have a least chaotic semester haha

WTF (Where's The Food?)

#gajevy #gajevylovefest #gajevylovefest19 #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #fanfic #fairy tail #where's the food fanfiction #Gajeel has a lot of feelings #and he's bad at dealing with them #lucky him he's got levy to help him get his shit together #*me after three margaritas in a bar with some friends* I HAVE THE PERFECT IDEA FOR THAT PROMPT OF LOVEFEST #*proceeds to write all of this as soon as I got home*#I'm going for some beers tonight too. I hope I get the inspo and write for the discord weekly challenge lol

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considergoldenkamuy · 6 years ago

Text

it’s just who we are.

self-indulgent shit bc i feel not great today

She used to live in a small village, living off a small farm and filthy well, with her younger brother and the other children. She used to tell the greatest stories, the ancient and awesome epics, the incredible and elaborate tales. She could create something from nothing with words alone. She could sing the sweetest songs, she could teach anyone the most detailed harmonies, she could tame the most vicious of animals with her voice alone.

She was a miracle child - she could do anything, they had said. They exaggerated, of course, as there were two things she could not do. She couldn’t walk, and she couldn’t see.

And so her younger brother would bring her around in a wheelchair, talking so cheerily and enthusiastically. He would talk of his hunting trips, of how he had explored the wasteland that had come to be not even months ago - the catastrophe that had stolen away her now-still legs, and eyesight.

She loved the boy so, and he did her. They took good care of each other and the other young ones, who happily called them their older siblings. Every morning, she would wake up, still seated, and find her way over to her brother. She would shake him until he groaned, wanting to continue resting, but she always won in the end. He would always ask her if she had any dreams, and she would burst out a new story, a new myth, a new fairytale each time.

The children would gather round and she would continue all day, into the afternoon. She took joy in hearing them laugh and giggle, hearing them demanding more. She took joy in speaking with them, with her brother, with the village - with her family.

Five years in, however, a group of wanderers came in on motorbikes, asking if any able-bodied men would be willing to join them, promising food and shelter. But when no one responded, they had threatened the villagers. They invaded, capturing many of the elders and a few of the children. And of course, they took her as well - an obvious choice, as she was blind and disabled, and therefore couldn’t run.

Every single hostage was killed, every one except her and the youngest child they had stole. Having seen too much, so afraid for her, her brother joined them after making them vow not to kill his sister in exchange.

“Don’t worry.” He had grinned back then, she could hear it in his voice. “I’ll make sure to send you whatever I can spare. You can be happy, then. Maybe I can find something that will help your legs. Don’t worry! I’ll be fine!”

And yet, when she heard those tires fade into the distance, she couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her face. Her younger brother, the sweet boy - with all of her infinite wisdom, something told her he wouldn’t come back alive.

Every day was unbearable, she was quieter than she had been before. Those smiles of hers that had been so bright, even with those eyes of hers, but now they were melancholy and grieving. So many of the children had been slaughtered, she was left alone with so few of the survivors - a small handful amount of adults and younger ones.

Her lips no longer spun words of gold and wonders, they instead birthed sorrows and blue tales of sadness. The others didn’t question her - they understood, of course. She was so close with everyone in the village, of course she would be among the most heavily affected. Years of worrying passed, years of hoping her brother was doing well, having stopped receiving small packages of goods with notes he had written for her.

But everything crumbled when she received news from a member of his gang that he had been killed by a man with seven scars on his chest - a man who used the martial art technique Hokuto Shinken, a man named Kenshiro. Her chest grew heavier, spending so long alone in her room, weeping over her loss. The others did their best to bring her spirits up, but none could do anything.

The day she left her room, having long since learned how to navigate on her own decently, she had come to a conclusion:

She hated Kenshiro. And if she got the chance, she just might kill him.

The young woman stewed in this anger, getting out whatever she could through a sudden shift to stories of heroes, of their losses, of their gains and wins, of their friends, of their tragedies. She treated the younger ones kinder than ever, so determined to keep them safe. She didn’t want to suffer that pain again, and she didn’t want the others to either.

The elders died a few years after her own brother had passed, and she was left as the oldest one in the village. She had to take care of all of them, but they all worked together in an effort to make up for what they had lost in the past. They called her either “Mother” or “Big Sister,” they held her that close, giving her a pale sunhat they had made themselves on her birthday. And for the first time in so long, she felt such pure and genuine happiness.

Until one day, when she was sitting in her wheelchair with a child on her lap - she had been telling them a story, running her fingers through the small girl’s hair as her sweet voice spoke - she heard a car fast approaching. She paused when she heard it stop nearby, the sound of two young voices as three people got out. The children all tensed, unsure, seeing the serious look on her face.

“All of you, go inside. I don’t recognize them - be ready to run if need it be.” Having practiced this before, they all complied immediately, scattering. She kept the child who had fallen asleep in her arms, however. The girl had been the child of the other adults before they passed away due to illness, so the young woman had to act as her mother. This was a two-year-old, she had to give it special attention.

The footsteps drew nearer and she waited until she heard them round the corner and pause before she turned her chair around.

“Ah! It’s a lady!” The voice of a young boy - his age wasn’t easy to pinpoint, but in his mid teens at oldest. A sound of nervous steps backwards, light. It was the other child, a girl, if she guessed correctly.

“Who are you three? What do you want?” Her voice was calm with an aggressive edge. The two children recoiled but the third, the man, didn’t move.

“We were simply passing through,” his voice was deep and smooth. “We were hoping we could spend the night, if it isn’t an inconvenience.”

She “stared” at them heavily from below her sunhat, a long moment of awkward silence passing before the boy shuffled over to the man, whispering. “Ken! Just make her agree, I’m starving!”

She tensed, which made the three pause. “Did I hear that right?”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?” The boy asked and the girl made a soft sound of agreement. Her expression was blank before she thinned her lips into a line, suppressing a scowl.

“Ken, as in Kenshiro?”

The boy didn’t notice the wary tone in her voice. “Yup! The one and only! He’s really powerful, you know? So could you let us stay?”

Again, she was silent before she tilted her head upwards, not hiding her snarl this time. The girl let out an “eek,” but Kenshiro had any sort of fear. He did, however, note how she held the baby in her arms a little closer.

“You’re not welcome here, murderer. Stay away from us.”

“Ken’s not a murderer!” the girl protested, but the woman let out a bitter laugh.

“Murderers kill without a second thought, without consideration for those who care for those he kills.” A soft sound of surprise left Kenshiro this time. “You’ll be staying here over my dead body. You’ve begun corrupting those children, showing such cruelty so easily. Now leave.”

“I’ll leave, but could these two stay?” Kenshiro made a surprisingly humble request and she thought carefully for a moment before slowly nodding. The two were reluctant to leave their friend, but eventually walked over to the young woman, who stroked the cheek of the baby in her arms. “One last thing.”

“Why should I grant you that?” was her short response, but he continued as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Who was it that I killed?”

She was stunned for a moment before her eyes twitched, only Kenshiro seeing how she looked on the verge of crying.

“...you don’t deserve to know that.” She curtly spun her chair around, expression softening when she spoke to the boy and girl. “Come on, you can return to...him when morning comes, but you’re welcome to stay however long you would like.”

“Hey, lady?” She hummed in reply, tilting her head towards the young male. “Why are you so angry at Ken? All the people he’s killed is because they earned it.”

She clenched her jaw, placing words together, knowing Kenshiro was staring at her intently. “He killed someone I cared for. He killed the person who mattered the most to me.”

The three entered a stunned silence, before the young woman gestured for them to follow. “Come now, I’ll show you to where you’ll sleep.”

Kenshiro could only feel a light pang of guilt, seeing how her shoulders were tense. That person must have been close with her. But out of all the hundreds he’d killed, who was it?

“You can all come out now, it’s safe,” the woman called out, and the two newcomers could only watch in awe as a large group of older children and young teens began to gather, all flowing out from the homes around them. “These two will be spending the night here, so be kind to them, please.”

“Hey hey,” a kid walked up to the duo. “What’re your names? I’m Maxwell! We’re all a big, big family here!”

“A family?” the girl questioned, and Maxwell nodded enthusiastically.

“Uh-huh! And she’s the one who takes care of all of us! Big Sis’s real nice.” The others wore bright expressions, a natural testament.

“Oh...well, I’m Bat. And this is Lin. Do you guys have any food? I’m really hungry,” he whined, and a few laughed good-naturedly.

“Yeah! C’mon, let’s eat dinner!”

Kenshiro walked away from the village to sit in the car in his usual spot in the back, a thoughtful expression on his face. The look she had when she glared at him, it was of pure sorrow and hatred. She’d been sitting on this for a while, but he’d killed so many people at this point that he really couldn’t tell who was one she could have cared for.

Clearly, she was a caring soul from how she doted to that baby in her arms, how kindly she spoke to Bat and Lin. What he’d done clearly drew out a violent reaction rom the woman. He intended to keep his word, staying out of the village, but again, the thought kept bugging him.

He fell asleep, still thinking.

The young woman sat in her room, baby still in her arms as she shushed it softly, humming a quiet lullaby. Gingerly, she held the baby a bit closer, into her own warmth. The baby laughed, and a smile came to her face. The morning sun peeking through the window, the young villagers slowly awoke, all getting dressed, eating the small rations that were for breakfast before going out to the farms to get to work.

By the time Bat and Lin had decided to open their eyes, the small home they had been sleeping in was deserted. Though confused, they ate what was left for them before heading out as well. The first person they saw was the village leader herself, still in her wheelchair, still holding that infant.

“Miss! Good morning!” Lin greeted, running up to the woman. The older female perked at the girl’s voice and turned towards her, smiling a little.

“Good morning, Lin. Did you and Bat sleep well?”

Lin nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah! Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t like leaving children out in the bitter cold like that,” the woman turned back out to the fields, where some were playing, some were working, some were chatting. “I have a bit of a soft spot.”

“Miss, why didn’t you let Ken stay?”

Bat grabbed onto his friend’s shoulders, with an urgent hiss. “Didn’t you hear?! Ken killed someone she - !”

“He’s the man who killed my younger brother.” All of the sound died, the two children slowly absorbing what the woman had just said. “My younger brother, he left this village half a decade ago, forced out, otherwise I and the whole village would have been killed. A lot of the men here were forced, really, but he joined as long as the group promised not to hurt me. That was the last time I spoke to him - the day he told me that he would be fine, he would do his best for me. He always told me in letters of how hard it was to keep killing and hurting and mocking every single day, he always told me how he wished to come back.”

Her lips pursed, a single tear slipping from her eye.

“But he never did.”

Kenshiro turned towards the sound of Bat and Lin running over to him, calling his name. “Ken! Ken! She told us why she hates you so much!”

“...? Why would you ask her that?” That wasn’t a good question to ask someone so emotionally scarred.

“You killed her younger brother.”

Kenshiro frowned a little at this.

“He - “

“Please don’t say anymore,” the sound of the woman’s voice cut through the air like a knife, all three turning towards the woman in the wheelchair, moving towards them. She looked saddened. “Don’t tell him anymore beyond that. It doesn’t matter.”

“You were crying!” Lin exclaimed, upset. “Of course it matters!”

The woman stared at the children with these blank, unfocused eyes, mirky in color. They looked dead, so dead as they turned to Kenshiro. She tightened her jaw. “Why would it matter to him? I doubt I’m the only one he’s left in this state.”

Lin fell silent, looking away.

“Your younger brother?” Kenshiro asked slowly. “If I killed him, that means he was doing evil. If it helps you any, he wasn’t acting - ”

“I don’t care,” she cut off coldly. “I don’t care if he wasn’t acting right. I don’t care if he was mocking someone. He has never lied to me. He hated the life he lived, he hated everything that he had to do. He left as a sacrifice to save my life - so I would be spared. I didn’t protest, thinking that he would be alright, just like he said, that he would be fine, that he would be okay, sheltered and fed, just like he had told me the day before he left me here. Five years apart, sending letters, and the next thing I know, the only blood family I had left was killed. Killed like he was nothing, like he was a piece of garbage on the ground. If that’s how you treat someone you’ve met for the first time, not knowing why they’re doing what it is they’re doing, I want you nowhere near anyone else that I hold dear. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a sociopath and a killer - among the scum of the Earth.”

Kenshiro only took her words in slowly, processing all she had said.

“Bat, Lin, I’m assuming you’ll still be traveling with this man. Do as you please, but don’t do anything that could put your life in immediate danger. You’re young, you deserve to grow up and see the whole world for yourself. I never could, so I never did. Good day.”

Though she had gone a long distance after a few minutes, she paused and turned to “look” over her shoulder. “Why are you following me? Are you going to kill all the children?”

“I believe you misunderstand,” Kenshiro’s voice was calm. She looked like she wanted to shout at him, but she refrained, merely tightening her grasp on the wheels. “I will admit. I feel nothing when I kill those I deem evil. But I don’t kill or hurt those I believe to be innocent, to be good and strong-willed. Whoever your brother was, I killed him in the moment because I dubbed him and those around him as evil.

“You likely won’t believe me, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing a kind person like you so much pain, for taking away someone obviously so close to you, so important. I understand that feeling, but I never really bothered to think about how my killings may affect the individuals, whether or not others felt that same heartbreak.

“I don’t intend to kill anyone in this village - if someone like you is protecting them with such determination, then truly there is no one here who deserves any pain. It’s too much for me to ask in this position, but could you at least...give me a chance? Someone like you doesn’t deserve that pain I’ve caused. It is against my morals to allow this to go on.”

She thought for a moment before snorting softly, turning to face him completely. “Then, I have a single question. What do you know about me as of right now?”

Kenshiro raised a brow, but answered anyways. “You’re a young woman with a kind and caring heart, taking care of a village full of young children. You’re physically disabled with a justified fury towards me for killing your younger brother, who you clearly cared for dearly. You don’t have any parents or elders who look after you, and you have a strange magic in your words.”

“Strange magic...” She chuckled lightly. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. However, you don’t pass. You’re going to have to do better than that, Man with Seven Scars.”

“What did I miss?” A simple question.

“For someone rumored to be so strong and intelligent, I’m shocked you didn’t notice,” she mocked lightly. Looking up at him fully, eyes no longer partially obscured by the hat, his own eyes narrowed.

“...you’re blind.”

“I’m blind,” she confirmed, tugging the tip of her hat back down. “I’m blind and disabled. I’m a pitiful human being, stuck on something like anger. But that’s just who I am, and you’re just who you are. I’m an eternally grieving woman, and you’re a thoughtless murderer. Whatever cause you have, is it worth killing all the people you have so far? If I had the ability and nerve, I would have attacked you upon hearing your name alone. Unfortunately, I’m soft.

“I can try to kill you, even from where I am, but those children would be saddened. They would suffer through what I and so many of the children here have suffered through, so many times that day long long ago. Seeing someone they consider family be killed before their eyes.

“It’s not worth it. It never will be. If you ever find a way you could possibly make up for what you’ve done, if you’re truly determined to do something like that for someone like me, then come back once you’ve completed that objective of yours, the one that makes it alright to tear apart so many families. To do that will prove something to me. If you never come back, then have that supposed ‘guilt’ of yours remain - that this crippled woman will hate you forever.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll even tell you a story,” the final smile she gave him was plaintive and sorrowful, before spinning her chair around with impressive grace and rolling off. Kenshiro watched as some children approached her, such bright smiles on their faces. The one she returned was genuine.

He hadn’t seen a smile like that in a long time.

But Kenshiro simply shook his head at himself, making note in his mind to return once he rescued Yuria. Stepping back into the car, he didn’t answer Bat or Lin when they asked what he and the woman had spoke of. He said nothing, brows furrowed in thought. If this was the pain he’d caused one woman alone because of a single man he’d killed, then what had all those other deaths done?

He wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to that.

#hokuto no ken #hokuto no ken imagine #hokuto no ken scenario #fist of the north star #fist of the north star imagine #fist of the north star scenario #kenshiro #kenshiro imagine #kenshiro scenario #it's just who we are.

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