#it fades as i get into the fight. it's never been nearly that grand. i was singing a lot too but sleeping family made it more of a whisper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tuulikannel · 4 months ago

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@lazytoufu and I have talked a bit about doing different princess themed karushuu stories. This isn't really a princess one, just based on a fairytale. I think I'll yet post this on AO3 too... once I figure out a real title for this. No, I will not be calling this Little Red Riding Shuu for real XD

But, yes. A Little Red Riding Hood retelling with some hints of karushuu in it. Funnily enough, it's exactly 3333 words atm. (And that's like, 2000 words more than I thought it'd be...) (I hope there are not many typos and other stuff, I wrote this in one go in the past 3 hours or so and now it's midnight here and I'm too sleepy to proofread more) (if you've any suggestions for a title do tell me)

The Little Red Riding Shuu (or whatever this'll be called)

In a grand house at the edge of a forest, a man called his son to him.

“I have an errand for you,” he said, offering the boy a basket. “You have to take this basket to your grandmother’s cottage.”

The boy gave the basket a long look. “I have a grandmother?”

“Of course you do.” The man pushed the basket to him. “There is also a map in there. Now, don’t dawdle. She has taken ill, and you have to make haste to bring her this medicine, so that…”

The boy snorted. “Yeah, sure. You’re sending medicine to people. Give me some credit, father.” He looked at the map and frowned. “She sure lives at a nice place, doesn’t she? Those parts of the forest are full of robbers and dangerous wildlife.”

“Is that a problem?”

He gave the man a sharp glance. “Don’t be stupid. I’m on my way.” He threw his red cloak over his shoulders and headed out.

As he started his journey through the forest, Gakushuu took a curious peek into the basket. There was a vial in it but there was nothing on the vial to indicate what its insides were. Medicine? He gave a little laugh. Hardly. Perhaps he would find out something once he found this so-called grandmother of his.

The road wasn’t as bad as he had thought. Yeah, sure, some random robbers attempted to attack him, but he dealt with them easily enough. One tried to stop him with poisonous gas, another, he had to admit, had a fairly strong grip in his hands (and an extremely annoying way of speaking), and then there was the absolute weirdo who seemed to be more interested in eating his guns than fighting with them. A sniper was a bit too close for comfort to get him, but in the end Gakushuu escaped him, too.

Evening was getting close and dusk was beginning to settle. He had left all roads far behind, but thankfully the terrain wasn’t too difficult. Gakushuu fastened his pace a little. He had hoped to make it back home before night fell, but he had spent a bit too much time dealing with the robbers. At this rate, he might have to spend the night at his “grandmother’s.”

“Well, hello there,” a soft voice suddenly said from the darkness, and he nearly gave a start.

He hadn’t sensed anyone watching him. Had someone truly been able to sneak upon him like this?

“Who’s there?” he asked, carefully keeping his voice even.

Someone – something? – stepped out of the dark forest. Gakushuu’s eyes widened a little, looking at the sight. Gleaming yellow eyes, a pair of rather fluffy ears covered in red fur, toothiest grin he had ever seen… He could just stare.

The other’s grin faded gradually away. “What? Never seen a wolf before?”

Gakushuu frowned. “You are… a bit red for a wolf.” Not to mention big. As far as he knew, a wolf shouldn’t be looking him almost in the eye.

“Shows what you know,” the other grunted. “I’m a red wolf.”

“Hmm.” Gakushuu wasn’t fully convinced, but in the end, the exact species of this beast was irrelevant. “So, what do you want?”

The self-declared wolf sighed. “Just to say hello! It’s quite an event to see a new face around here.”

“Okay then. Hello, and goodbye.” Gakushuu nodded and started walking on.

“Hey, c’mon!” The wolf ran after him. “We just met, don’t be in such a hurry!”

“Night is coming,” Gakushuu said shortly. “I want to reach my destination before that.”

“Ah,” the wolf breathed. “Of course. You poor humans and your lacking eyesight. I do understand. So…” The wolf jogged up to him to walk beside him. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“So suspicious…” the wolf sighed. “Come now, I know this forest through and through. If you tell me your destination, I could guide you there.”

“I don’t need a guide.”

“Mmm… if you say so. Juuust… if you continue down this way, you’ll soon run into thorny thickets that’s very hard to go through. It might seem tempting to go by it on the left, but that would lead you to a treacherous swamp. But if you head this way instead,” the wolf nodded to right, “you’ll soon find a path made by animals that just might be handy for you.”

Gakushuu said nothing but walked stubbornly on. He wasn’t foolish enough to follow a complete stranger – let alone a wolf – in a situation like this. Soon enough, though, he found those thickets the wolf had spoken about. He paused to consider. Yes, the terrain did seem easier, if he tried to go around this place on the left, but… hmm.

Was this a trap? He glanced at the wolf who was watching him with a much too innocent smile, and turned then right, against his better judgment.

“My offer still stands,” the wolf said, following him. “Just tell me where you’re going, and I’ll get you there in a moment.”

“And I bet you’re helping me out of the goodness of your heart, huh,” Gakushuu said dryly.

“Oh, of course! Although I would not mind it if you were to offer me something in return…”

“Like what?”

“Well, maybe a sniff of whatever you’re carrying in the basket,” the wolf said, and Gakushuu instinctively drew the basket closer. “Come now, that’s not too greedy, is it?”

“What is in this basket isn’t my property,” Gakushuu said. “So I’m afraid I can’t promise you any of it. Even a sniff.”

“Who are you taking it to, then?” the wolf asked, clearly curious.

“My grandmother,” Gakushuu said after just a short hesitation.

“Hmm.”

“She’s sick.”

“Of course.”

They walked a moment in silence. There really was, Gakushuu saw, some kind of a path going through the forest. It headed approximately in the right direction, so he started following it.

“So, your grandma lives in the cabin that’s by the brook down there, huh?” the wolf asked. Gakushuu said nothing, but the wolf ignored that and went on. “Well, it’s the only building anywhere nearby that you possibly could reach before dark. Funny though, I thought it’s just a hunting cabin.”

Gakushuu just shrugged.

“Follow me,” the wolf said after a while and left the path. “This is a shortcut.”

Gakushuu was still a bit hesitant to do that, but to be honest, he had just been thinking he probably should leave the path and head in that direction. Oh well. He’d just be extra alert and keep a careful eye on the wolf. If he tried something, he would yet regret it.

Soon enough he heard the brook, and then he saw the cabin. It did look like an average hunting cabin.

The wolf paused. “Sure you want to go in there?” he asked.

“What, you don’t like hunting cabins? Scared of hunters?”

“As if.” The wolf snorted. “But… ah, I forgot. It’s not just your eyesight that is lacking. This place smells all wrong.”

“Yeah?” To be honest, Gakushuu wasn’t surprised. This whole thing was clearly nothing but a test his father had created for him. But not delivering the “medicine” to his “grandmother” would equal failure. Therefore, he had no other option but to enter this cabin.

And he did so.

It was so dim there. He could see a desk and chairs, a cupboard… head of a deer on the wall… but there was no one in there.

“Hello?” he called out.

“Oh, hello,” a squeaky voice replied. “Is it you, my darling grandson?”

“Yes… grandmother,” he said and walked carefully deeper into the cabin. “I’m bringing you medicine.”

“Oh, what a good boy you are!” the voice squeaked.

Gakushuu entered another room. A bedroom. There was a figure lying on the bed. A very big figure. Gakushuu squinted his eyes, trying to see. It was even darker in this room. There was, perhaps, a face half-hidden under a white sheet. Were those dark dots eyes looking at him?

“Grandmother…” he said slowly. “What tiny eyes you’ve got.”

“Still they see you very well, dear boy!” the voice squeaked. Yes, it clearly came from the bed. For a moment Gakushuu had suspected someone had merely placed some pillows into it to fake a body.

He moved a little closer. She saw very well, huh? Unlike him, in this darkness. But the body lying in that bed – if it was real – sure was big, that much he did see.

“What a large body you have,” he muttered.

“All the better to hug you with, my boy!”

Please don’t, Gakushuu thought to himself.

The sheet fell from the face as the form on the bed moved. The grin that was revealed from underneath it was much toothier than even the wolf’s.

“What a big mouth you’ve got, grandmother,” Gakushuu said, his hand grasping his knife.

“All the better to eat you with!” exclaimed the creature in the bed, and suddenly half a dozen tentacles shot at him. Gakushuu slashed at them with his knife, cutting two, dodging three, but one still caught him. Only for a short moment, though, as something red flashed in the corner of his eye and the wolf had sunk his sharp teeth into the tentacle.

“Augh!” Something big, yellow and tentacled, clad in black robes, stood on the bed, wailing. “That hurt!”

“That was the meaning,” the wolf said with a grin. “Mmm, tastes like octopus! Nice. It’s been too long since I’ve had seafood. Hey, Little Red Riding Hood, how about we make some sushi for ourselves?”

“You can have it all for yourself,” Gakushuu said. “And don’t start making weird names for me. I’m called Gakushuu.”

The yellow thing was flailing on the bed. “You! You would eat me? That’s so rude!”

“Didn’t you just say you’re going to eat me, grandma?” Gakushuu asked, jumping into a swift attack. The octopus monster dodged him, impossibly swift, and then yelped, having to dodge the wolf, too.

“Well, yes! But I’m the monster of this story, so that’s how it should be! The monster isn’t supposed to be eaten!”

Tentacles whizzed across the room, fast. Gakushuu had to rely on all his training just to dodge them. A counterattack was simply impossible.

“Tactical retreat!” the wolf yelled and dashed toward the door. Gakushuu didn’t really like the idea, but under the circumstances it seemed sensible.

They rushed out of the cabin. Gakushuu wasn’t quite sure if having more room would be a good or a bad thing against this opponent, but it did feel better than the cramped cabin.

“He’s coming!” he shouted as a yellow blur flew out of the cabin after them. Again, there was nothing he could do but dodge – well, at least there was more room to do that, now.

Again, the wolf jumped at a tentacle and caught it in his teeth. A sharp flick sent him flying and he landed in the brook. That didn’t stop him, though, and just a moment later he was making another attack on the tentacle creature.

“Ah! You’re all wet!” Again, the wolf was sent flying, but Gakushuu paused. A few droplets had fallen on a tentacle, and it was… melting? The wolf was back on his feet in an instant, and for a moment their eyes met. In a silent agreement they started dodging in a way that led the creature toward the brook. At one point, Gakushuu grasped a bucket that had been lying by the cabin, pretending to use it as a shield.

It took a good while of dancing around, but finally the creature stood right at the edge of the river at the perfect spot. Again their eyes met, and both knew exactly what to do. Gakushuu raised his knife, locking his eyes with the tiny beads of the octopus monster. He parried a tentacle, made a fake attack and then threw the knife toward its head. The octopus parried it with ease, but right then the wolf took a firm grasp of the hem of his robe and pulled, strongly. Gakushuu too flung himself at the octopus who fell toward the brook, suddenly shrieking in terror.

Somehow the long tentacles grasped a hold of trees and stones around the brook, stopping the fall in the last moment. The wolf landed on the octopus’s chest and Gakushuu already had the bucket filled with water, about to throw it at his face.

“Surrender!” the wolf growled, and Gakushuu paused. Huh? Wasn’t this a fight to death?

The octopus’s eyes had a strangely panicked look in them (for being nothing but little beads, that is) as he glanced from the growling wolf to Gakushuu grim face and the bucket that had almost been emptied over his head.

“I surrender!” he shrieked.

“Great.” The wolf jumped to the ground and grinned at Gakushuu. “Our victory, comrade!”

“Are we really going to let him live?” Gakushuu asked with a frown. “He was going to kill me!”

“No I wasn’t!” the octopus shouted. “Of course not! What do you take me for, some kind of a monster?”

“…you yourself said you’re the monster of this story,” Gakushuu pointed out.

“Well, yes, but…” The octopus flailed, flustered. “It was just for dramatic effect! Of course I wasn’t going to kill you! Your father would have been so mad with me!”

“Father.” Gakushuu sighed. “Of course. He hired you, didn’t he.” It wasn’t even really a question.

The octopus nodded, looking miserable. “He wanted me to test you, that’s all! I wouldn’t have really eaten you or anything.”

“And that vial… it was your reward, right?”

“Talking about which…” While they were talking, the wolf had gone inside to get the basket. “It belongs to me now, you know.”

“Hey,” Gakushuu said, ignoring the octopus who was wailing something about needing it. “I never said anything about giving it to you.”

“Oh, come now!” The wolf glared at him. “You’d have never done this without my help.”

“That’s debatable,” Gakushuu said, even though, to be honest, it truly wasn’t. He did remember the iron grip of the tentacle that had grabbed him right in the beginning. If the wolf hadn’t come to his help, the fight might have been over right then and there. “But,” he went on magnanimously, “you did come to my aid – even though I never asked for help – and it’s not like I needed that vial for anything, so… you can have it.”

“How very kind of you,” the wolf said dryly. “Would you help me…”

“But!” the octopus wailed. “It was promised to me! And I did my job, so I’ve earned it! Your father told you to give it to me, didn’t he!”

“I was told to give it to my grandmother, and you,” he gave the octopus a long look, “are clearly not that.”

“Buuuut! You don’t understand! I’m under a curse and unless I drink that magic potion I’ll never become human again!”

“Tough luck,” the wolf muttered. “Open it for me, won’t you?”

“So you too want to drink this?” Gakushuu asked, curious.

He picked up the vial and opened it. He glanced at the octopus. There were actual tears flowing down his round cheeks. Gakushuu sighed.

“If my father had this, he can surely get more. Just go ask for another vial”

“Have you ever tried to deal with your father,” the octopus whined. “Who knows what he’ll have me do this time!”

Gakushuu paused. True enough. And perhaps he shouldn’t hold his father’s actions against this octopus. He’d just been doing what he’d been told to, anyway.

“Well then. Fifty-fifty, how about that? Both of you get half of it.”

The wolf gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m not sure if that’ll be enough.”

“You drink half of it,” Gakushuu decreed. “If it’s not enough, you get also the rest.” He looked at the octopus. “That’s the best deal you can get.”

The octopus just nodded, still the epitome of pitifulness.

“Okay then.” Gakushuu carefully poured half of the liquid in the vial to the wolf who drank it. The wolf shimmered softly, his outline grew strangely blurry, and suddenly instead of a wolf a boy was standing there.

“Huh…” He felt carefully his arms and chest and patted then his head, grimacing a little. “I told you it won’t be enough!”

Gakushuu eyes were transfixed on the wolf ears on his head. “That’s not too bad, though, is it?” he said, reaching out. Yeah, the ears were just as fluffy and soft as they looked like. “They’re kind of…” cute, he was going to say, when he suddenly realized he stood there ruffling the ears of a stark naked boy of his own age.

He turned around swiftly, his cheeks hot. “You can have the rest,” he said, giving the vial to the octopus who gave it an uncertain look.

“…if I’m still going to have tentacles…” he mumbled, but still drank the rest of the drink.

Gakushuu waited with mild horror, wondering if they’d end up with some kind of an octopus/human chimera, but in the end the young man who appeared in the place of the octopus looked perfectly normal.

“Hmm,” the wolf-boy said, sounding a bit disappointed. “How boring.”

The man grinned. “Hey, this is…!” Suddenly two tentacles shot out from under his hair, and he gave a startled yelp.

“Oh, that’s more like it!” the ex-wolf stated happily. “Cool.”

Gakushuu sighed, turning away from the man who was freaking out, trying to see his image in the brook’s water. He would certainly have a thing or two to say to his father once he returned home. If he returned. He was certainly more pissed off with the man than probably ever before.

It was already dark. He started walking toward the cabin. He’d spend the night there and decide in the morning what he’d do.

The wolf-boy was suddenly by his side. “So! There’s only one bed there. Shall we share or will you sleep on the floor?”

Gakushuu spluttered. “Why the hell would I sleep on the floor!”

“You’re the one with clothes, so you won’t get cold.” The boy grinned at him, something extremely wolfy in his expression. “Or then we can decide who gets the bed in a fair fight.”

“I’m done with fighting tonight,” Gakushuu muttered. “Whatever. It’s a big enough bed, I guess.”

“Uh, I…” The man had rushed after them and was about to say something.

“You’re not joining us!” Gakushuu exclaimed. “You’ve your robes, you’re fine on the floor.” The man fell silent, a hurt look on his face. Gakushuu paid that no attention but marched into the bedroom, followed by the smirking boy.

“God,” Gakushuu mumbled as he settled down on the bed, still fully clothed. He was so tired. It had been a long day.

The other boy clambered into the bed too. “So,” he said, “what shall we do tomorrow? You wanna stay here or…”

“Who said we’re going to do anything?” Gakushuu said. “What you should do is to find some clothes. I’ll decide what I’m doing tomorrow.”

“I just think we’re a pretty good team, don’t you think? We could go adventuring together! I’m sure that together…”

“Yeah, sure, absolutely. Shut up, I’m tired.”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight then, Shuu.” The boy curled up next to him, a bit too close.

“I told you not to come up with stupid nicknames for me,” Gakushuu mumbled, but he was too tried to be really mad. “Stupid wolf.”

“I’m Karma,” the boy said.

“Figures,” Gakushuu muttered, on the borderline between sleep and waking.

Quite soon the two boys were in a deep sleep. In the other room the man lay awake quite long, trying to decide if he wanted to be the one to tell his employer that his son had eloped with a wolf, or if he should rather just run too while he could.

#asano gakushuu #akabane karma #fairytale retelling #karushuu #my fics #assasination classroom

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bruisedwithsins · 1 month ago

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Chapter two: Shadows of Legacy

The haze of late afternoon sun flickered through the dusty window, illuminating the cramped living room. The old clock on the wall ticked monotonously, a reminder of time passing too slowly for Damien. For the past two weeks, he had been thrust into a reality he never wanted, one that took form in the shape of his biological father, Carter. To the world, Carter was a figure of success—wealthy, charming, and confident. To Damien, he was the man who had abandoned him and his mother, a ghost of memories twisted in betrayal and lies.

Focusing on the single thread of sunlight creeping across the floor, Damien fidgeted with a nearly empty pill bottle that rested heavily in his palm. He could feel the cold metal weights of his addiction, constantly whispering to him. The urge was there, a throbbing tattoo beneath his skin, but he held it back—at least for now.

Noah sauntered into the room, his trademark smirk plastered on his face. The eldest, he played the part of the perfect son, charming both their father and Anastasia with his facade. But underneath the polished exterior, there were cracks—after all, Noah wasn’t the golden boy he professed to be. “Whatcha thinking about, brother? How to knock off dad’s new PR stunt?” Noah’s voice was laced with sarcasm, an armor he wore just like the designer clothes that hung on his frame.

“Maybe I’m just wondering how to get out of here.”Damien replied, glancing at Noah with a disinterested gaze. “But I guess that’s not an option for you, is it?”

“Funny, coming from the guy who basically disappeared from the world.” Noah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze challenging.

“Right, because you have this perfect life to flaunt?” Damien shot back. “Let me guess—you’re still hiding that perfect little secret of yours? The one you think nobody knows about?”

As the tension simmered, the door creaked open. Carter stormed into the room with the kind of arrogance that radiated from someone used to getting what he wanted. “What’s this? You two siblings bickering like children?” His voice dripped with condescension. “We have a brand image to uphold.”

Damien struggled to suppress the anger bubbling within him. He didn’t want to be part of Carter’s grand plan—a publicity stunt to show the world the “happy family” he had created. “You’re the one who abandoned me.” he snarled, “and you think I’m just going to play along with your little game?”

Carter’s expression hardened. “This isn’t about you, Damien. Think of what this means for your future. Your mother made choices—bad ones. But it’s your chance now to leave that behind.”

“Don’t invoke my mother.” Damien spat, remembering the pain of losing her, the crushing void that had never really filled, that kept dragging him back to his addiction. “You left her alone to raise me! You had an opportunity to be a father; instead, you turned your back.”

Before Carter could respond, Damien felt the rush of adrenaline—his heart pounding in his chest. Anger surged through him, and for a heartbeat, it looked as if they would erupt into violence. It took Noah to step in, placing himself between the two men.

“Enough!” Noah shouted, his voice rising above the tension. “If you two are going to continue this, at least wait until the cameras are on.”

“Don’t fuckin’ protect him.” Damien barked.

“Easy, brother.” Noah raised his hands, still keeping eye contact with their father. “Let’s not make this worse—especially with the press coming soon.” The bitterness laced in his voice was palpable as he pulled Damien to the side, leaning in. “You think fighting him will change anything? It won’t.”

Damien gritted his teeth, feeling the tight coil of anger and hopelessness knotting in his stomach. He needed something—anything—to ease the weight. Leaving Noah behind, he wandered into the bedroom they had assigned him, closing the door with a decisive click.

In the solitude, time warped, echoes of the outside world fading to a distant murmur. He unscrewed the lid of the pill bottle, shaking out the tantalizing contents. With each capsule that hit his palm, every memory of Jayden flickered back to him—her smile, the way she understood his darkness without judgement. He needed her. But she was still ocean away, and his relief beckoned him dangerously close.

With a swift movement, he swallowed down the pills, one after another, chasing that temporary feast of oblivion. The heat of the confrontation washed away, replaced by a familiar haze. That was the irony—finding momentary freedom in chains that he had forged himself.

As he slumped against the wall, Damien realized he was merely a pawn in Carter’s game, stuck in the shadows of a legacy he never wanted. In the end, his world was still steeped in chaos, lips pressed against those dark alleys that led nowhere he wanted to be. But for now, as the world spun drowsily around him, he allowed himself to drift, holding onto the fleeting thoughts of a girl who offered him hope, even if just in his mind.

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love-archon · 3 years ago

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Shoulder Angel

Summary: Genshin boys as your guardian angel and demon ^^

Zhongli and Childe

• Morax is literally the name of a demon.

• He appears before you on the eve of your contract, sharply dressed in elegant (and form-fitting) clothes, and calmly states his name and titles: a president of hell, overseer of thirty demonic legions, and provider of knowledge of astrology and stone.

• There's a long silence after he's done, as though he's waiting for something... or someone. Then Morax awkwardly clears his throat, and that's when the angel comes crashing in.

• "Be not afraid!" he announces, picking himself up from the floor. You aren't yet sure why you should be afraid of a skinny white boy with orange hair, but you suppose it's just something all angels say.

• You didn't get the angel's name, but when your friends come over and see the two very attractive men in your house that previously weren't there before, he's quick to spin a lie about him being a family friend of yours, Ajax, who's staying with you for an indefinite amount of time.

• Morax is less accustomed to lying on the spot, latching onto Ajax's story and introducing himself as Zhongli... another family friend. Who also coincidentally happens to be staying with you, yes.

• To be honest, Zhongli is nicer to hang out with than Ajax. He is knowledgeable about many things, and recounts grand historical events as though they happened yesterday. His deep, velvety-smooth voice has you unconsciously hanging on to his every word.

• But no matter how civil and friendly he is, take care not to forget what he's really here for. Morax takes contracts seriously, and although he refuses to outright lie, he still wants you to sign the second contract- one that gives him the legal right to claim your soul when you die.

• (Your saving grace is that even though he's not willing to play dirty, the angel certainly is).

• Meanwhile, you're pretty sure that if you make one wrong step when you're out with Ajax, he'll be fired for not protecting you properly. He's always itching for a fight or chasing the thrilling high that comes with danger some other way. But if anyone dares threaten you, he’s immediately at your side, ready to defend you if they come any closer.

• Sometimes, when his focus slips, you see his true form underneath the human glamor- hulking, plated with armor, and a pearlescent wheel for an eye- and suddenly his "be not afraid" line makes much more sense, and terrifyingly so.

• It's never visible for more than a second before Ajax is back, with his lean build and countable freckles and two eyes as blue as the deepest sea, smiling at you reassuringly and pretending nothing happened.

• He trusts you enough to not intervene when you're around Zhongli, because as far as he's concerned, your soul might as well be in Ajax’s palm. But he still delights in tormenting the lesser demons that appear near you, drawn by Morax's power- summoning blades of holy water to easily tear them to shreds.

• What? Just because he's a guardian angel doesn't mean he has to be nice.

Scaramouche and Kazuha

• In the window of time when summer turns to fall, and maple leaves change from green to shades of red, Kazuha comes to you.

• Kazuha is the perfect angel.

• He knows the hidden language of nature, guiding you away from treacherous storms and lightning strikes. Traveling with him means you can sleep safely under the stars without a care, and he's always there with a wise saying or elegant poem that reminds you to do the right thing.

• Although he sounds a little old-fashioned when he speaks, his soft voice and gentle, kind eyes persuade you to listen anyway.

• He's sweet and calm, but always ready to faithfully defend you from evil with his heavenly sword.

• Which is why it vexes him when there's one ancient evil, reeking of ozone, that he just can't seem to exorcise.

• You can't get a real name out of him- he's too spiteful and cunning to ever reveal it to you. It's either Balladeer, or Skirmisher, 散兵, or Scaramouche, which sounds the most like a name instead of a title. So Scaramouche is what you call him... for now.

• He doesn't bother trying to tempt you into anything, and seems determined to hang around you only to be a nuisance. It deeply irritates Kazuha, which only encourages Scaramouche more.

• Then one day he realizes that making you flustered isn't just fun, but also drives the angel up the walls.

• Like a new favorite toy, he quickly figures out what gets the best reactions out of you, but is smart enough to know when to stop before he goes too far. He always does it when Kazuha does something particularly cute or nice to you, dragging your attention away from him.

• Even so, your guardian angel has faith that in the end, you'll do the right thing.

• "I know you'll make the correct choice," Kazuha says to you, smiling gently. The fading light of the sun softens his features even more, making them shine like gold.

• "I know you'll make the correct choice," Scaramouche mockingly drawls, and the air suddenly grows chilly and hums with static. His icy finger draws a line down your arm, making you flinch from the cold. "After all, I'm much better than that angel, right?"

Venti and Xiao

• You're thrown off at first by the angelic wings and snarling mask, respectively. But make no mistake-

• No matter how cute he may be, Barbatos is a duke of hell, who delights in speaking in riddles and encourages you to laze around and procrastinate when you really shouldn't. He jokingly invites you to share a drink with him, and is only stopped by a firm "no" or Xiao appearing behind him with glowing green eyes and a warning growl.

• And despite Xiao sighing in exasperation whenever he has to get you out of trouble, he always appears by your side to defend you wherever you're in danger- you only need speak his name.

• It’s no secret that beneath his distant exterior, Xiao has a soft spot for you, and cares for your wellbeing even if the things humans do mystify him at times.

• Surprisingly, the two of them get along with each other, when Barbatos isn't trying to pull you into one of his schemes ("Barbatos sounds so mean," he whined once, after being scolded by the both of you. "You should call me Venti instead!")

• Xiao had a different name, once, when he was forced to serve a false and evil god. He refuses to speak of it with you, so don't try, but sometimes, late at night, the illusions over his skin come undone, and you’re sad to see just how much damage has been done in his years of servitude.

• You only know that one day, someone came along and freed him, giving him his new name. He refuses to talk about that person either, although it sounds like they're not with him anymore.

• But being granted freedom didn’t remove the agony inflicted on him, and it was Venti’s song that saved him from being consumed by pain. He secretly dreams of being able to dance to that music again, unburdened by his debts. And although he may never admit it, being with you gives him the same lightness in his heart.

• Venti doesn't care about trying to get the upper hand on Xiao or anything. He believes that humans should always have the freedom to choose without outside influence, anyway.

• But sometimes, just to mess with him, he transforms into what must be his real form: a tiny, fairy-like creature dressed in white. He floats around you like a ball of dandelion fluff in a spring breeze, and cutely nuzzles your cheek to make you laugh.

• Then he throws Xiao a smug look when you're not looking, and the guardian's shaky grip on his polearm nearly makes it crack.

#genshin imagines #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #genshin scenarios #my writing

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softykooky · 4 years ago

Text

sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.

You’re such a fool, Y/N.

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.

“And I need to go.”

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

They would wait a bit longer.

Everything would be okay after dinner.

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.

You cry for Y/N.

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

He knocks again.

Nothing.

A third time.

Complete and utter silence.

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones.

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.

“America.”

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.”

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.

“What are you talking about?”

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.

“There’s been an accident.”

taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx, @thebleuprince, @dreamer95, @jinana-iactium, @holaaaf, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re, @katbonv, @embrace-themagic, @jiminmochee, @fanoffandomss, @mwitsmejk, @mrsfortune1306, @raadia, @kookima, @bonesfordayss, @dinoboysindahouse, @jiminie-lovely, @queenceline22, @jikooksgirl19, @somewhereinthestarss, @kookieskiwi, @lynnfanficreblogs, @vintageroses10,

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unhealthyfanobsession · 4 years ago

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I can’t believe we’re going to get little mentions of soft, established Nessian in future books... like???? Imagine!!

“Azriel sighed as he entered the office, not because of the news he had to deliver from his latest mission, but because of the sight that greeted him. The sight that always seemed to greet him lately. Feyre and Rhysand were bad enough, but Nesta and Cassian were worse. Because they thought they were being subtle. They thought no one could see Cassian’s thumb just under the back of Nesta’s top, stroking up and down the divet of her spine. They thought that no one marked the way Nesta’s face and posture tightened every time someone mentioned Cassian going on a mission- which was his gods damned job. But she never said anything. Never said no or told him it was too dangerous. Just stiffened in worry. And that quiet intimacy, the silent worry... that was so much worse than overt affection. Because it was something Az could find himself craving, could feel his heart aching for, and that was almost unbearable.”

“We can’t hold Elain back, Nesta.” Feyre sighed “if she wants to do this then...” she trailed off and Nesta clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth almost broke inside of her skull. Rhys cast an eye toward Cassian, but he was already moving toward his mate, one hand outstretched. It had been over a year, but the High Lord’s eyes still nearly popped out of his head every time Nesta relaxed and let Cassian pull her to his side like a sleeping tiger cub. Claws retracted, but never fully out of sight. Cass whispered something low and gruff in her ear and Nesta glared at her mate.

“I hate you”

“You hate me because I’m right.”

“It just happens so rarely that I’m never sure how to react.” Cassian barked a laugh in the same moment Rhys and Feyre did. “That wasn’t a joke” Nesta shrugged.

mor would probably never be friends with Nesta the way that she was with Feyre. They just weren’t... compatible. But even she had to admit that she’d been wrong about her and Cassian. And Mor never admitted to being wrong. But every now and then she’d stumble across them when no one else was around, like right now. Dawn loomed over the river palace and everyone else had long gone to sleep, which meant that Mor was in search of wine. What she found instead was Cassian sitting in front of the fire in an overstuffed armchair, Nesta perched across his thighs with her legs draped over the arm of the chair. One of Cassian’s hands was on her hip, the other holding a mug of tea that Mor knew was Nesta’s. Because Nesta’s hands were busy, twisting themselves through the silken strands of Cassian’s hair, weaving them into tame braids that Mor would have bet money would be impossible to coax those unruly strands into. And Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, General Commander of Night, the most powerful Illyrian warrior in centuries, was leaning into her touch, eyes closed in perfect contentment, moving only to press a kiss to Nesta’s wrist every time it came close enough. Yes, Mor thought, she’d never been so spectacularly wrong in her very long life.

AND FINALLY:

Gwyn was busy doing everything she could to staunch the flow of blood from Azriel’s side. If it was a normal blade it would never have been a fatal wound, but with ash wood... who knew. She was so focused on her task that she almost didn’t notice Koschei advancing towards them again. Not until Ataraxia’s massive weight gleamed silver in front of her.

“Take one more step towards my brother and sister, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” She growled.

Koschei stilled, a smirk playing on his lips “you do not frighten me, Nesta Archeron. Once, perhaps, but love made you weak as it has so many others.”

Nesta took a step forward, and for all of his grand words, Koschei took one back. “You will not be the first deathless creature to underestimate me and meet their end by this blade.”

Koschei laughed, shadows pulsing in time with Azriel’s own, even as they were fading. They didn’t have much time. He needed a healer, a real healer. Gwyn pressed her hands harder into Az’s side, thinking that she would rip the skin from her wrist if she could patch it over his own.

Then she saw Nesta smile, felt a change in the wind, and breathed a sigh of relief as Koschei faltered. As the entire grassy expanse beside the lake was flooded with red the colour of watery blood.

Cassian.

No one knew they were here. No one knew about Az’s crazy spying against Rhys’ orders or that Gwyn insisted on following him and Nesta insisted on following her. No one knew, but of course Cassian did. Of course the mating bond must have been screaming at him that the other half of his heart was in danger. The shock and the blast of power was enough to knock Koschei down, enough to distract him.

Lady Death positively beamed in deranged delight at the arrival of her true sword, her mate, her love. “What was that about love being a weakness?”

Those were the last words Koachei the deathless heard before a once mortal girl separated his head from his shoulders with a single swing of her Made sword.

In the end, he put up less resistance than the ribbon.

“I would murder you all for this insane plan if I hadn’t just flown 4 hours to save your sorry asses” Cassian growled.

Nesta only rose on her toes to kiss him, black blood smearing both of their lips. And because Gwyn knew that Cassian’s ability to stay mad at Nesta was nonexistent she felt no qualms interrupting the moment.

“You haven’t saved us all yet.”

Cassian’s face turned grave as they all sunk to their knees before the shadowsinger. He ripped into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and produced a vial that he poured down Azriel’s throat. “From Thesan” he said “it’ll counteract the Ashwood, but he still needs a healer for the wounds.” Cassian cast an eye upward “Day is closer than Night. I’ll take him there and be back in a couple hours.” He lifted his brother easily, throwing up a shield to protect him from the wind “try not to get into a fight with any other true immortals while I’m gone.”

“No promises” Gwyn and Nesta responded in unison.

#nessian #nesta archeron #gwynriel #acosf #a court of silver flames #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel #Mor #morrigan #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #cassian #nesta and cassian #nestaxcassian #sarah j maas

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saprobiont · 11 months ago

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OKAY THIS IS THE SAD PART AHEAD

So in this headcanon that I am nearly crying over, the patient kind of knows she’s trans for a long time and as a child can’t really picture herself growing up as a man, although she did not have the will to come out back then.

“Mama, we’re all full of lies.”

Her parents were very much proud of her being their son, and had hopes for her future that she never really connected with, these referenced by her father in Welcome to the Black Parade.

I think that as a child she was hopeful for the future, I think Welcome to the Black Parade was one moment where she sees a future for herself.

It's slightly different than the one her dad sees. But for a moment, and this is why it's the memory that greets her as she dies, it's this fucking wildly hopeful dream of fighting for the rest of those “broken, beaten, damned”.

“I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene”

So for the rest of the album there’s those two futures she sees for herself: one that amounts to a “lifelong wait for a hospital stay”, and one where she ends up coming out, ends up in the sunlight of the parade. But this hope fades as she gets older.

Disenchanted and Teenagers talk about her experience in high school- finding herself on the outside of the “boys and girls in the clique” “spit on and shoved to agree”, to conform.

Which pretty much cemented the view I think she had, where she decided it was worth it to just stay in the closet for the rest of her life, because it was bearable, but only just. She was scared of going back to being an outcast, and scared of being any sort of gender non-conforming because of how people would treat her. In her view that was better than attempting to transition because. well.

“As we ran from the cops we laughed so hard it would sting” in Disenchantment is I think the final representation of her as a hopeful kid, not beaten down by the abuse and expectations of others.

The Sharpest Lives is. oof. A lot of turning to substance abuse and late nights to try and remove herself from her problems, and a lot of acting erratically, this trying to express that she’s in pain but she hasn’t let herself deal with it and she can't manage to talk about it. I fucking love this song, how the narrator is so angry and bitter but yet still alive, and there is joy in surviving if it's hard to find anywhere else.

At some point in her adult life she gets the diagnosis.

Dead! Her accepting her death like a joke, maybe because she was feeling borderline suicidal: “And wouldn't it be great if we were dead!” crossed with her not really accepting her death, because oh my God she had things to do and she could have lived differently, and maybe if she tried it a different way she would have been happier, but now there’s no more time and it's so hard to find the remnants of that hope she had as a child.

“Wouldn't it be grand— ain't it exactly what you planned?”

And Mama. God. Again she’s accepting death, not entirely as sad as she should be. And you know, that one line. “You should have raised a baby girl, I should have been a better son” You know how it is, right.

Cancer is just. Of course, like, it’s fucking cancer. But the line about hair loss hits different with dysphoria layered on top.

ALSOOOO “bury me in all my favourite colours”-- when I was sucicidal I used to have this fantasy of leaving a note and coming out postmortem, with no consequence. So that’s what I think is going on here, with a self-deprecating “here’s my resignation, I’ll serve it in drag”. With the end of her life nearing, she’s entertaining the thought of at least dressing feminine as she’s buried, doing something nice for herself just once, dying the way she wanted to have looked in life. Not trying to romanticize this, but like. I understand. One final plan before you go.

Tbh I feel really bad about this headcanon at the moment cause. like I don't want to reduce her and her entire story to pain. At the core of the album, of course it's a story about illness and death, but like I don't want to add "being trans and closeted" as solely "hey here's more fucking angst and bad stuff!" I don't know, it's complicated. I just want to say that she lived, and there is joy in that for fuck's sake.

ok well this concept is full of grief but in my head the patient from the black parade is transfemme and closeted until her death and this repressed knowledge is subtly present as she looks back at her life

#mcr #suicide mention #the black parade

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peachtree-dish · 3 years ago

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A Te Che Sei Il Mio Amore Grande

I'm writing fanfics again. Woot!

Inspired by the song of the same name.

Chapter One: Quando Ti Guardo

June 06, 1969

Luca drummed his fingers restlessly along the soft velvet of his armrest, his eyes switched from peering out at the Italian coastal terrain and once again reading the watch that rested against his wrist.

“You’re doing it again.”

His eyes snapped up to watch as Giulia sighed at him from behind the thick leather-bound novel in her hands. As her amused yet exasperated gaze landed on him, he grinned sheepishly.

“Mi dispiace, Giulia. I honestly don’t remember the ride being this long.” He checked his watch again and grimaced. “Has it really only been ten minutes?”

Admitting defeat, the red-headed girl marked her place and set the book aside. “Luca, it’s been nine months, si? But what is the one thing we’ve learned about time from Segnora Rosa?” She quirked a knowing brow at him as Luca slumped forward.

“Time is always constant, lo so.” He mumbled.

“Esattamente, therefore,” She continued as she picked up her book with renewed gusto, “the train will take exactly an hour every single time we travel to and from Porto Rosso.” With her argument settled, Giulia returned to her page and began reading once more. After a moment of stillness, she peered at him subtly from above her page. Luca was looking outside once more, his eyes filled with a mixture of yearning, and his mouth twisted in anxiety. With a kinder expression, she said, “If it’s any consolation, amico mio, I’m sure he’s just as nervous to see you.”

Luca puffed out his cheeks but didn’t reply, instead preferring to peer down at his clasped hands.

“Maybe you could finish the bracelets you’ve been working on, that will help you pass the time better and maybe keep your mind off things, eh?” She nodded to his school jacket pocket which held a mass of multicolored strings that had yet to be organized. Perking up at the thought, Luca agreed and set to work on detangling the threads from one another.

Outside the bright light of the morning sun blazed peacefully across the pristine indigo coastline and followed the two youths on the journey. Some miles away, a small town was anything but peaceful.

“Massimo!” A young man jumped up the paved stairways of Porto Rosso, disturbing the half-dozen pigeons resting there. At their indignant coos and squawks, Alberto quickly glanced back with a slight shout of “sorry!” before continuing on his rampage towards the Marcovaldo residence. Skidding to a stop once he passed the archway, he leaned heavily against the tree that he and Luca had slept in nearly a year ago prior and gasped.

With a large crash, both Massimo and Machiavelli burst through the front door looking frazzled and ready for a fight. The latter was fully puffed up with his claws digging into the cobblestone walkway and his pupils shrunken to small slits. Massimo swiveled his head around looking for whatever danger could have provoked Alberto’s shout, his shoulders hunched and his good arm gripping his harpoon tightly. However, when no danger presented itself, he glared half-heartedly through his eyebrows at the young sea monster who sheepishly grinned.

“Well, where’s the fuoco, eh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Massimo, everything’s fine. But!” He pointed animatedly at the large man, “you are aware of what day it is, right? We only have a few hours until-”

“Until Giulia and Luca arrive, si piccolo, lo so. You’ve only been talking about it for a month now.” Shouldering his harpoon and popping his neck, the old fisherman turned to enter the house, an unhappy Machiavelli climbing onto his open shoulder, but not before growling irritably at Alberto.

“Come have breakfast, Alberto, we’ll see what we can do to keep busy while we wait.” The large man patted Alberto’s sun-kissed shoulder before entering the house. Slumping in resignation, the teen followed behind Massimo but not before stretching to give one last searching look at the expansive cliffs that breached the horizon, hopeful to see a plume of smoke.

**************

When the train finally pulled into the stazione, Luca was already flinging the train door open and running into the waiting arms of his mother who squealed with delight and refused to set him down for several long moments, much to Luca’s embarrassment and secret delight. An equally excited Giulia was soon to follow, and she said a quick hello to the Paguro’s before launching into Massimo’s open arms. While his father patted him on the head and asked the generic questions of wellbeing, Luca tried to glance around his parents. If Massimo was here, then so was-

“I told you I’d be okay.” Luca’s heart thudded painfully in his chest for one moment as Alberto sauntered into view. Prying himself from his mother, the young sea monster swiftly walked to Alberto and embraced him without pause. Luca buried his face into the crook of Alberto’s neck and breathed him in for the first time in nine months.

Whatever nerves and fear Alberto had been holding released him the moment his best friend enveloped him in his arms. Luca had grown slightly taller over the colder months and his skin had lost its sun-kissed pigmentation, but the warmth in his eyes had not faded in the slightest.

“Welcome home, Luca,” Alberto mumbled into his friend's hair, ignoring the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes, he pulled away with a chuckle. “Are we going to do this every time we say ciao?” Luca smiled wetly and scrubbed weakly at his face.

“I think I could get used to it if it’s with you.” Alberto resolutely decided to ignore the heat that gathered in his cheeks as Luca turned to answer Massimo. Brushing it off as too much time in the sun, he tuned into the conversation just as the gentle fisherman began speaking of their new fishing truck.

“Grazie to Alberto’s ‘knowing fish’, we earned enough for me to invest in an auto,” Massimo stated proudly, clasping a large hand onto Alberto’s shoulder. The teen modestly scratched under his hat and shrugged, turning to Giulia and Luca.

“He’s really only saying that. Massimo did all the hard work; I just stuck my head underwater a few times every day to navigate us. But!” Alberto waved towards the station entrance and began pulling Luca by the hand. “you really have to see the truck I’ve been writing to you about.”

The truck itself was what could hardly be described as new. The front bumper was barely hanging on and rusted completely through on the right side. Green chipped paint covered the doors and Luca noted with a swell of warmth the black hand-painted logo of “Massimo and Alberto Fishing co.” Most people would consider the truck like garbage, but Alberto found the faded paint and broken glass charming, and he said as much to the group. Giulia rubbed suspiciously at the truck’s tailgate, her eyes squinting as she studied it.

“The Americans call it a ‘Hudson pickup’,” Massimo announces proudly, his pronunciation heavily accented.

“I’m still not sold on it being actually safe, but I’ll admit it wasn’t too bad the first time Massimo drove it.” Daniela opined, opening the front door with a loud squeal.

“Yeah, not so much when Alberto decided to try it,” Lorenzo muttered good-naturedly. “My tail still won’t swim straight.”

“You drove the truck?!”

“You crashed the truck?!”

Giulia and Luca exclaimed, she glanced curiously at her papa who raised his hands innocently. Luca began looking at Alberto’s arms and skin, scouring for any injuries, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation.

“He’ll be sixteen this year, mia figlia, he’ll need at least a year of practice. Nessun problema, your time will come soon.”

“Oh, come on,” Alberto kindly pulled Luca’s hands away and hopped on the rear end beaming down at his family, “it wasn’t so bad for the first time. Plus, she just needs some love and she’ll be right as rain. You guys just can’t see her potential.” He patted the chipped paint fondly. “Not to mention this makes delivery way faster.” Massimo chuckled as Lorenzo continued to grumble and Daniela merely rolled her eyes.

“Si, and speaking of quick deliveries, let’s go home and eat lunch, hm?” Massimo lifted Luca and Giulia's luggage into the bed of the truck while the rest of the family, the Paguro and Marcovaldo families together again at last.

As the truck rattled through the colorful fishing port threatening to fall apart, Giulia and Luca rattled story after story to Alberto and Luca’s parents. Alberto tried to ignore the feelings of jealousy at the way his friends appeared to be so in tune. He laughed politely at their inside jokes and did his best to understand half the jargon they spouted, but in reality, he felt more lost than ever before. Stuffing the uncomfortable feelings down as far they’d go, Alberto helped the Paguro’s down first so that Daniela could help with preparing the food alongside Massimo. While Lorenzo had shown an interest in learning the human ways of cooking, he hadn’t quite managed to pull it off as well.

“You set the curtains on fire one time, and they never let you set foot in the kitchen again,” Lorenzo complained to the kids as he followed his wife.

“Except it wasn’t just the curtains,” Alberto whispered loudly to his best friends who giggled unapologetically.

“ONE TIME!” Lorenzo called hotly from inside.

Giulia smirked at her friends, “Some things never change, amicos.” Grabbing her bag, she turned to the house, “Oh, and Luca don’t forget about your gift!” She winked knowingly at a flustered Luca and befuddled Alberto.

Alberto glanced down at Luca who was doing his best impression of a frozen fish.

“Uh, was that supposed to me-”

“I made you something!!” Luca blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth. He glanced nervously at Alberto, who merely stared back stunned. Fishing in his uniform jacket pocket, Luca wordlessly pulled out the two multicolored bracelets from his pocket and held one out to Alberto. Alberto stood frozen his eyes glued to the green and purple threads glistening in the warm afternoon sun, his mouth hung loose in a silent ‘oh’. The threads danced innocently between them, and Luca felt his bravado begin to waver. When he still hadn’t said anything or moved to take the bracelet from Luca’s grasp, the younger boy grew more flustered and started to pull away, his voice shaking. “I- I’m sorry, you probably think this is so stupid.” Luca tried to not panic, desperately willing his mortification away.

Alberto’s hand shot out to pull both the bracelet and Luca’s hand back. “I can’t believe you made this for me.” He whispered, cradling the bracelet tenderly as he studied it in his palms. He traced the twining threads and smiled at how the pattern reminded him of scales. He looked at Luca and put his arm around him to pull him close. “I love it, thank you. No one’s ever given me something so beautiful.”

“R-really?” Luca asked, his expression hopeful.

“Really. Did you make this too?” Alberto squinted at the painted pearl hanging from the end of the strings, creating a clasp to hold it in place.

“Giulia's mom actually helped me design those with her paints.” Luca motioned to the pearl. “She said that gifts help make the distances feel smaller.” He pondered the delicately painted waves of his own pearl. “It’s funny when I was learning so much and seeing so many places, I never realized how far from home I would feel.” His gaze landed on Alberto, only now realizing how close they were. Up close he could see the new freckles that peppered his cheeks and how his face was slimming down. Nine months of hard work had broadened his shoulders and caused his wiry arms to harden with lean muscle. Clearing his throat, he pulled away again.

“Anyways, I guess we better go inside before the food gets cold.” Blushing as red as Massimo’s favorite wine, Luca threw one last smile over his shoulder and ran inside. Alberto grinned in response and slid the bracelet over his wrist fastening it so that it hugged him snugly. An emotion that he couldn’t quite name filled every part of him, spreading from his toes to the tip of his ears. Walking inside to the smells of homemade pasta and loud laughter, Alberto felt that the promise of a wonderful summer had just begun.

#pixar luca #luca 2021 #alberto x luca #luca x alberto #fanfic #mutual pining #they share one brain cell #Giulia has it 99% of the time #just teens trying to figure out life #a te che sei il mio grande amore

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lovetorn · 4 years ago

Text

Life Was A Willow [Part 2]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings for Part 2: violence, mentions of death (familial), swearing

A/N: part 2 !!!! thank you so much for the support and feedback from part 1, omg thank you !! well, i hope you enjoy part 2 ahhhhh !!

It’s 9 pm and Y/n still waits for the signal. She looks in the direction of the Castle and swings her feet back and forth from where she sits on the cottage’s roof.

The air is cold and the trees continue to rustle, the same way they do every day, but tonight, she has an eerie feeling about it. Regret slips into her mind sometimes, telling her that she is foolish for even accepting such a vague invitation by someone she doesn’t even know—but it was so intriguing and she trusts them (she doesn’t exactly know why).

Suddenly, a large pop startles Y/n out of her daze. Sparkles dance in the sky as fireworks burst from the land below. She quickly notes that the explosions are coming from the West side of the Castle and takes that as the signal. Very grand indeed.

Y/n jumps from the roof, landing gracefully on the dirt, and takes off running through the forest. She misses tree roots emerging from the earth and ducks under low branches from the undergrowth. The only thing that lights her path is the moonlight and at this moment, Y/n is thriving. The full moon allows her abilities to heighten and she places her full trust in her instincts.

The fireworks continue to explode and Y/n fills with more adrenaline, the sound making her scream out in joy. She’s excited about the meeting, and she doesn’t even know who it is. And maybe that’s what she’s eager for; the unknown.

The entirety of the concept scared her before, but now she’s exhilarated. And as the show comes to a close, Y/n nears the East side of the Castle. It’s completely silent at this end and the eerie feeling she had before creeps back. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty but one of opportunity and her instincts are telling her to take it.

When she reaches the abandoned cottage, Y/n inhales sharply. There’s no light coming from the house and the door remains closed. As she steps onto the stairs in front, the wood creams beneath her and she scolds for giving away herself to the person inside. Instead of sneaking around, Y/n stomps towards the door and swings it open.

She sees a man in the corner and makes her way towards him, her hands out and ready in case this interaction goes south.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Y/n calls out. The man jumps slightly and lifts his head. And in the moonlight flooding in through the window, Y/n recognises him as Dream, even with his mask off. He stands in a white button-up and brown pants, his hunter boots on and a newsboy hat sat on his blonde hair.

“Dream?”

“Hi, Y/n. I knew you would recognise me.” Y/n doesn’t want to look away from him. This is the first time she’s seen his face, and despite the darkness, she sees how handsome he is.

“Why—how? Why did you want to meet me in such a creepy way?” Y/n asks in disgust, picking a cobweb out of her hair and then off of her shoulder; they seem to be everywhere. Her expression falls back to one of admiration when she looks back at him. However, the moonlight lacked the light Y/n needed to see him properly.

Dream laughs slowly. “I forgot to bring a lighter for the lamp. Do you think you could, uh—maybe,”

“Glady,” Y/n sighs and flicks her hand towards the candle in the glass encasing. It immediately comes to life and the room becomes brightly lit. Her eyes fall onto Dream again and she finally sees him; his piercing green eyes and the scar that runs from the top of his left temple to the corner of his lip.

“Wow,” Dream mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, and I know that everybody I know would, just, obliterate me for even thinking about doing this, but I needed to talk to you about—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, right...”

Y/n squints at the man and then tilts her head. “Whose C?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he nods. “Yeah, uh, that’s me. My name’s Clay.”

The witch doesn’t say anything as she stares at him. “So why do they call you Dream?”

This isn’t where Dream thought the conversation would go, but he’s happy they’re not fighting.

“My mother came up with the nickname when I was born. I nearly didn’t make it and then through some miracle, I did. So, she called me her Dream.” Y/n can tell the story makes him emotional, so she doesn’t push any further.

“That’s really sweet, Dream.” And at the sound of his real name, Dream perks up slightly before he cracks a smile. Y/n grins back at him; a real genuine smile. The pair stand in the low lit room in comfortable silence, until Y/n’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks. Dream nods once and continues from where he was cut off before.

“I wanted to discuss the possibility of a truce between witches and hunters,” Dream isn’t smiling anymore, instead his lips are screwed up and his hands fidget in front of him. Y/n, however, grins even bigger.

“I’m all for that, honestly. I’m tired of being on edge every day and being scared for my life. If we can find a way to create peace, even for a little bit, I’m on board.” Y/n keeps it short for now, not wanting to scare him off by how passionate she feels about the situation.

Dream’s eyes light up at the sound of her agreeing. “Really?” Y/n nods and becomes surprised when she feels Dream’s arms wrap around her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“No, Dream, thank you! I’ve been trying to convince people of this for years. I’m really glad that you feel the same way.” The pair pull apart and Dream flicks his eyes down to Y/n’s lips for a split second.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/n nearly chokes at his comment. Dream feels his cheeks burn when the words tumble out and soon they’re both flustered. “Sorry! Oh my, I’m sorry, that didn't mean to slip out—”

“Dream, it’s fine. I think you’re pretty too; especially without the mask.”

The hunter swats the witch’s shoulder playfully. “Stop~” The pair laugh together, and then proceed to stand in another comfortable silence. The wind howls and whistles outside and makes the cottage creak, adding to the eerie aura that surrounds it.

“What’s with the hat? It’s nighttime.”

Dream plucks the accessory off of his head and runs his opposite hand through his hair, the soft locks falling back into place when his hand returns to his side. “Part of the disguise, duh.”

Y/n squints at him, her expression morphing into one of mischief. “Isn’t the mask a disguise in itself, though? Also, put the hat back on, you look handsome with it.” It’s time for Dream to blush now. He covers his face with his hat and scoffs softly. “Y/n!”

The girl slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her embarrassed laughs. “It’s true!”

The man rolls his eyes before placing the hat back on his head. “Happy?”

Y/n nods before telling him to answer about the mask.

“Well, no, nobody at the Castle actually knows what I look like—except for my best friends, Sapnap and George.”

“George? As in Prince George?” Y/n is shocked, to say the least. She now understands why Dream is so passionate about the peace between the Hunters and Witches. Prince George is known for his differing morals and ideas from his family, which makes him stand out from the other Royals. Y/n admires his bravery and courage to do so.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were young. I’m jealous that he can be so open with his opinions in that Castle—Lord knows if I was, I'd be executed,” This makes Y/n’s stomach drop. “But, it’s okay, with your help, hopefully, we can convince humans and magical-kind alike, that there can be peace. A—And we can live together in harmony, without being consumed by the overbearing thought of death every moment of our lives.”

Dream stops his tangent, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. Y/n feels like crying; she has waited years for someone to be as passionate as her about this topic. “I’ll help you, Dream, no matter what; because I wholeheartedly believe we can do this. I trust you.”

Y/n shocks herself with this statement; she’s never trusted a human before.

“And I trust you Y/n.” The pair stare at each other, smiles spread across their cheeks as the night outside slips away, and then it’s just them; standing in the main area of a small, abandoned cottage that sits East of the Castle, lit up with a lantern that casts a warm glow over the pair. Y/n can almost say it looks and feels magical.

“Ok, enough flirting, let’s get planning on the truce. Sounds like a plan, doll?” Dream gives her a lopsided smile and Y/n feels her heart rate increase at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Wilbur says. His voice is deeper than usual and fits in perfectly with the way he’s sitting ominously in the dark. Y/n stops tiptoeing towards her room and turns to face him; defeated that she got caught. However, she still remains giddy and her heart beats faster for other reasons.

“I was meeting with Schlatt—I need more toadstools for a potion I’m making.”

Wilbur squints at her, his lips curling into a frown. “I know you’re lying, and so does Niki.”

Y/n sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry—“ She pauses when she sees Wilbur shake his head.

“Don’t.”

Y/n screws her lips together and nods once. Her once excited demeanour fading away when she sees Wilbur’s look of disappointment. “I was meeting one of the new hunters, Dream.”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“We’re formulating a truce amongst witches and hunters.”

He raises his eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. “Okay? And why are you doing this? We don’t need peace.”

“Uh, so we’re not in danger every living second?” Y/n’s nerves grow into anger. “Why are you so against the chance of maybe, finally getting this?”

Wilbur shakes his head and stands up, the chair screeching against the wood floors as he moves. “Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

Y/n is at a loss for words while the tall man rolls his eyes and leaves, avoiding her as he circles around her to walk down the hallway.

His abrupt exit confuses Y/n. Why is Wilbur so against peace with the Hunters?

—

Dream manages to sneak into the Hunter’s Wing before they lock the front doors for the night. He sits silently on the bench in the training room and slips his boots off, making sure to place them on the floor as quiet as possible. He takes his hat off of his head and holds it in his palms, smiling stupidly at the inanimate object. The flame in the lantern next to him is fizzling out and it's hard to see 4 feet in front of him.

“Dream?” Even in his daze, Dream can sense the anger and fear in Sapnap’s voice.

“Sapnap? Why are you awake?” The younger boy walks out from the hallway and towards him.

“Me? Where were you? It’s midnight.”

Dream sighs and rests the hat on the bench next to him. “I was out.”

“Out? You mean meeting with the witch?”

Dream’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Fireworks don’t just go off for no reason, Dream. And I found the note in your room.” Sapnap says, ripping the letter from his pyjama bottoms pocket.

“Just say you have a crush on her, Dream!” Sapnap yells, throwing his arms up in defeat.

“I don't—I promise, Sapnap.”

“Fine, if you don’t like the witch, then kill her.” Dream’s dumbfounded. He stares at his best friend with such bewilderment that even Sapnap feels a twinge of guilt. Dream sighs, carding his hand through his hair in frustration and confusion.

He doesn’t reply, even when George arrives in a hurry, still in the process of wrapping a dressing gown around his body.

“What’s happened? I heard yelling.” The pair remain frozen, refusing to meet the Prince’s glare as they avoid eye contact.

George shakes his head, “Has this got to do with Dream meeting with the witch?”

“George! How do you know, too?”

George huffs. “I know everything that happens in and outside of my Castle. But, fireworks? Really?”

Dream throws his hands down in frustration. “Yes, fireworks! It was a good distraction and it was a signal for her anyway.”

George eyes the blonde before he crosses his arms over his chest. “As much as you hate to admit it, it's obvious that you’re fond of her, Dream. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, okay? You know that.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap spits. “You have his back? George, I can tolerate your ideals about the magical kind, but this is the witch who killed half of the hunter population.”

Dream stills. “What?”

“You’ve gone and done it now, Sapnap!”

“Y/n killed people?”

“Dream—“ George goes to speak, but he’s cut off by Sapnap.

“Yes! That’s why I’ve been trying to warn you! Why do you think we got this job so easily?” Dream stares at the concrete floor, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can’t believe it, he refuses to.

“Sapnap!” George snaps. The younger boy cowers away slightly, his once confronted facade crumbling at the sound of the Prince's tone. “Stop it, right now. You are in no place to tell him this, okay? You may be my best friend but that doesn’t excuse you from doing this.”

Dream chews on his bottom lip quietly as he watches Sapnap turn around and stomp out of the training room, but not before he scrunches up the letter and throws it on the floor. “Thanks.”

George’s gaze remains on the door. “Don’t thank me. He should know better anyway, considering his last relationship.”

The blonde nods once, reminding himself of the youngest boy’s past relationship with a fairy from the kingdom next door. Dream lets out a laugh at the thought.

For the next few days, Y/n hears nothing from Dream. She worries for him, has he been caught?

She stands on the porch of her cottage, hoping, begging for a sign that he is okay. Clouds plague the blue skies above and Y/n knows the bad omens swirling around the kingdom are the cause—and the inside of Niki’s crystal ball had burst with black and dark red clouds which had only confirmed her suspicions.

The wind howls through the trees and calls to her, speaking words of concern under its tongue. Y/n rolls her eyes and sighs, she knows to be careful, especially with the humans inching closer to their world.

However, a faint voice draws Y/n’s attention away from the wind and to the well in the corner of the garden. The sound confuses her at first, and then the wind’s guidance is forgotten as she makes her way towards it. The short fence around the area is still broken from the fight with the hunters weeks ago, and nobody has had a chance to repair it yet, so Y/n takes it upon herself to fix it.

The whispers from the well become a string of mumbles and are impossible to decipher as Y/n kneels with her back towards the forest—and for the first time, she is anxious about what lies within it.

But, before she can even begin picking up the pieces of wood, the sound of someone approaching her at a fast pace alerts Y/n immediately. She spins around with her hands out and is shocked when she sees Dream with his sword raised. The ground moves beneath her feet as she uses the earth’s power to aid her in meeting his strength.

“Dream?” She screams, her body struggling to resist the force of his weapon. Sparkles fall from her fingertips as she pushes back.

“You killed an entire army of people, Y/n!” Dream’s tone is low and angry and Y/n knows he would have found out eventually.

“Dream, I didn’t do that!” Y/n exclaims and Dream swings his sword backwards.

“How can I trust you? Hm? After all, you’ve killed people!” Y/n could cry at his utter naivety. She drops her arms by her sides as Dream glares at her in pure disgust.

“Instead of fighting, can we talk about this?” Y/n pleas. Her feet move swiftly beneath her, maneuvering her body away from Dream’s sword.

Suddenly, Dream brings the sword down to slice into Y/n’s arm, but a force pushes it back towards him, making the blade fly high into the air before it clatters onto the ground.

Y/n stands with her hands out, remnants of glitter falling around her fingers. “I told you! I’d never do that, and I have proof.”

“Proof?” Dream still stares at his sword, unable to meet Y/n’s eye.

“Proof. Now, how about we calm down and I’ll show it to you. Okay? Sounds like a plan?” Dream nods slowly, turning his head to face her. Finally, his green eyes soften and the raging fire that burns within them fizzles out.

“Okay.”

Y/n sighs before she begins. “When a witch kills an innocent; a human, they gain a marking on the back of their neck to signify the betrayal of the harmony between the two. However, since King James, that peace has been terminated; hence his need for hunters, like yourself.

“But, anyway, everybody in this damn kingdom thinks I killed those hunters, but I don’t have the mark,” Y/n turns around, her hand going to lift up her hair from her neck. The skin is clear, with no markings, nothing.

Dream nods, furrowing his eyebrows. “How do I know you didn’t just cast a spell to make it disappear?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “There’s no way to cover up the marking; it’ll just shine through whatever you put over it. It’s permanent and very obvious.”

“I told you, Dream, I didn’t kill them. I’d never kill an innocent.”

“Why didn’t you show them, then? You've had proof this entire time and never thought to actually show anyone?” Dream is bewildered. Y/n nods slowly, understanding his argument.

“I don't need to prove myself to your kind.” Is all she says. Dream waits for her to continue but soon realises she's not going to. “Fair point.”

“So, why did you come at me swinging? Did you really believe I would do that?” She whispers and Dream feels his heart sink. He is speechless for a few moments—did he really think that? Or was he feeding into Sapnap’s ideology of witches?

“S—Sapnap convinced me of things. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more he went on—I guess he got into my head.”

Y/n cocks her eyebrow and scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. You could’ve easily killed me with the amount of anger you had.”

This makes Dream’s breath catch in his throat. “I—I’m so sorry, Y/n. That was never my intention—”

The witch shakes her head and holds her hand up. “It’s okay, Dream. You didn’t offend me. I’m still here, with you, right? Isn’t that enough to tell you that I’m not angry?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s annoying.” Y/n giggles, holding her hand out to grasp Dream’s.

“So—”

“Dream!”

The cottage is quiet, too quiet, and Y/n walks into the small kitchen, hoping to bake a cake to cure her boredom. But, Wilbur sits at the round dining table, his beanie and a sewing needle in his hands.

“Wil, I wanted to talk to you,” Y/n mumbles, pulling out a chair. Wilbur doesn’t meet her eye as she does so, continuing to patch up his beanie that got ripped on a tree last week.

“Why are you against harmony with humans?”

Wilbur sighs softly. He places the beanie on the table and turns to face Y/n. “Y/n, when I was young, I lived amongst the humans in a town not far from here. We tried as hard as we could to mix in and not draw attention to ourselves.”

The girl listens intently, both curious and scared for his answer. She can tell the story makes him anxious so she reaches for his hand that lays on the wooden table. “Go on, Wil. I’m here.”

Wilbur nods, his eyes already full of tears as he continues.

“However, one day, my family decided to move to a more secluded area within the town, so my father could teach me more about magic without the risk of being caught. When we entered our new cottage in the forest, we were ambushed and they killed my entire family, leaving me, the only child, alone. I was left there, with my parents' bodies for weeks. I was made to fend for myself until I found Niki in a cave several years later. I was only 7, Y/n.”

Tears cascade down both of their cheeks. Wilbur takes in a shaky breath before he collapses onto the table out of grief. Y/n immediately leaps into action, wrapping her arms around the older man and letting him use her for support. His broken sobs and heart-wrenching cries stab Y/n all over, and she immediately regrets asking him about it.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wilbur,” She didn’t push anymore, and that was all Wilbur needed.

#life was a willow fic #lwaw #dream x reader #dream imagine #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagines #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream x fem!reader #dream x female reader #dreamwastaken

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: i pulled this shit out through writer’s block, yeah that says enough, cursing

word count: 3.1k

this is part three!

Natasha Romanoff was more than pretty, and everyone that didn’t already have that figured out was starting to realize it. By the time her second week ended, you had seen her actually use her sword only once, but you only needed to see it one time to know that she was skilled with it. Unfortunately, the butcher didn’t get the chance to see her work with a weapon until he got too close to her and she showed him up close.

That gave you a laugh.

She was insanely strong, quicker than you could see sometimes, and as sharp as a whip. She was more impressive than you could have ever imagined, and she demonstrated it nearly every time you watched her without even trying. Even when she was doing simple things, you couldn’t seem to take your eyes from her. From the way that she held her utensils to the way that she was careful not to step on your flowers when she went past your garden, nearly everything she did made your stomach flutter with an emotion you had never felt before, and you couldn’t decide if you liked it or were annoyed by it.

You would never forget the feeling that settled in your stomach when you saw her from atop one of your horses, and you realized that somehow, she was even more beautiful when you looked down at her from just a slightly higher angle. She was still smiling from the rush of a practice fight with a skilled swordsman that was just passing through, and though she had to put in little effort, she won. You had witnessed the last half of it yourself after you rode back in.

You had watched her begin to stalk off with that same stunning look of soft pride on her face and your heart stopped when she turned on her heel and headed straight for you, practically high off of the fight. Your brain scrambled for words in that moment, and all you could think of to say before your time was up was “you won”, but she beat you to your humiliation. “You ride with two legs over?”

Your brows furrowed at her and her question until she gestured towards your horse with a slightly red hand, like it had been hit one time too many with the wooden sword. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Most ladies…” Before she could finish her sentence, she trailed off, like she had just remembered the way that your first talk about how women should and should not be. Her look of triumph had faded into a slightly hesitant one, and then you gestured for her to go on without caution. When she took too long, you sighed.

“You mean the way most ride with both legs on one side?” You drawled, and she nodded wordlessly. You thought that the rule was idiotic, yourself. Men, because they had pants, were supposed to ride with one leg on each side of the horse. It was seen as disgraceful and quite the opposite of modest for a woman to ride that same way, regardless of riding pants. “I think that’s idiotic. I could fall off much easier that way.”

“Wouldn’t want you to fall,” she said, and it could have been the way that the sun was shining at that moment, but you could have sworn that she was close to smiling at you.

“I wouldn’t particularly want to be mistaken as a man, either.”

“I think that I can confidently say that no one is ever going to mistake you for a man, My Lady.”

Dinner was fine meat and heaping piles of starches, and Natasha was in Pietro’s old spot. He was used to it by now, and instead of being upset about it, all he would do was laugh a bit and whisper something to Wanda that you could never quite catch.

“I hope you’re enjoying your time here,” you told the knight, who looked up from her plate of food. “How has your search been?”

You saw her frown a bit. “I haven’t found anything that strikes me quite yet.”

You almost cringed at that, because a voice deep in the back of your own mind was telling you that you had certainly found something that struck you. “Is the setting uninspiring?”

“No, not at all,” she said slowly, like she wasn’t even afraid of offending you. And she wasn’t, because she knew that you wouldn’t have been offended. “It’s just… I’m nearly there. Just not quite.”

“You still have months,” Wanda reassured her quietly, working on her turkey leg. “I’m sure you’ll succeed in your knightly quest by then.”

“I think so,” Natasha said, and you nodded at her encouragingly.

The rest of the dinner went swimmingly. There was little chatter here and there, and most of the talking came from Pietro, his jokes back to back and then he would be dormant for minutes at a time until he had cooked something else up for the group. There wasn’t the air of hostility that had slowly but surely been dissipating with each day that Natasha had been there. Finally, the thick tension stopped rolling out like it was being produced in a factory, and then, the four of you were just there. Just four people eating a nice meal together, with no setbacks.

Of course, that didn’t last long.

§§

You always bathed alone. To people who had been born wealthy, having staff- they would be inclined to call them servants- bathe you meant that you were important enough to be tended to. It gave people thoughts of importance, and it made them believe even more than they already did in the superiority that mattered very little after death. A man or woman who could not get their servants to wash them is no lord or lady, they said. But you liked to wash yourself. It was the few and final shreds of dignity that you had after your husband and the impossible year that you spent with him, and even though he was gone, you surely weren’t going to stop washing your own body. Not when you could hardly ever do it back on the farm. Not when you had two working hands just like anyone else.

However, there was one thing that you could never do by yourself, and that was putting on your corset, and then wiggling into the dress. Wanda volunteered for it once after telling you the significance of a lady helping another into her clothing,, and when she realized how utterly helpless you were, she offered to help you do it every day. You accepted the offer after trying to do it on your own again the next morning.

You had never known that there was a designated corset assistant for a lady. You knew that there were typically a few women that a lady had on hand, and you had started off with a few before you realized that you really only needed Wanda. But the woman that helped a lady into her corset was seen as the woman’s most trusted confidant and the closest friend that the lady had, and when you let Wanda dress you for the fifth time, you realized that it was true.

And there she was then, waiting right by your door to dress you for the thousandth time with her eyes aerated as you dried off, sighing and groaning at the way that you could already feel the corset trying to strangle your insides. You grimaced at the object while you held it up, looking at it strangely like you did every time you laid your eyes on one without fail, and you didn’t even have to say a word before she was crossing the room and helping you step in it. While she was tying you up, you did your hair for the day. Every now and then, your eyes would meet in the vanity and she would silently ask you whether or not she was tying it too tight. She never did. You gave her a kind smile once she stepped back after finishing with the first layer of your dress, and then there was a quick succession of knocks on the grand door of your bedroom.

You and Wanda shared a confused look. When there was another round of anxious knocks, you threw your nightgown over your shoulders, your heart rate starting to pick up. “Come in,” you answered, brows furrowed at the thought of something being so important for someone to interrupt your alone time. That hardly ever happened. A man with brown hair walked in, legs taking hesitant strides until he got to Wanda, who stepped in front of him before he could quite reach you. He was holding out a sleek, black box. Wanda took it from him and then handed it to you, and you thanked him softly and took it, and then opened it to see a letter and the seal that you would never forget.

Your heart stopped for a second.

Forgetting that you weren’t alone and that you were nearly indecent, you ripped the letter open with a huff and started to read it, and when you did, you nearly dropped it to the floor.

My Dearest Lady of Riverstone,

I have been trying to reach you with word of my intentions for quite some time, and have not been receiving any answers. Luckily for you and for our imminent future, I won’t need an answer. My question has already been given a positive response by the High Priest himself. I have asked for your hand in marriage, and now, after all of my waiting, I shall receive it. By the end of three cycles of the moon, you and I shall have met and married. I look forward to meeting my wife, and the soon to be Lady Rumlow.

The room was utterly silent. Even though you hadn't uttered a word aloud, Wanda and the brunet man who was frozen by the blank look on your face knew that whatever it was, was horrible. You had read it twice before a minute passed, and you almost had it memorized, but you couldn’t stop looking at it like it was growing dandelions straight from the paper. You took in a deep breath, exhaled, heard Wanda’s soothing voice from under a thousand layers of ocean, and then read it again just to make sure that it was right.

Of course it was.

The High Priest allowed Brock Rumlow’s “claim” for your hand. He overrode your obvious refusals with the power of the highest man of the land besides the king himself. If what he said was true, then you weren’t getting out of the marriage. There was no way you would.

A sob escaped your lips, and before you could put your head in your hands, Wanda was right by your side, disregarding the contents of the letter without even reading them to comfort you. The young man ran off at the first sight of your teary eyes out of respect for his lady, and he quietly shut the door after himself.

You were too busy catching your breath to hear the noises you were making. If you knew that the miserable sounds were coming from your mouth, you would have stopped them if you could. You sounded like a woman being drained of the very little she had left, and Wanda held you through it all. Your hands were shaking and the letter was crumbling in your fist, and you held it tight to your chest, subconsciously hoping that if no one else read it, that it made the contents of it completely untrue.

“I don’t want to.” You were only able to say it clearly one time, and then you were shaking your head and blubbering to yourself over and over again, the same few words spewing from your mouth like they were the only ones you had ever learned.

You didn't know how Wanda knew what happened, but she did. “I know, I know.”

You didn’t know how he got away with it, and yet, you did. Anything with the High Priest’s signature was practically law, and a man like Rumlow wasn’t going to back down if he had gone to such lengths to obtain a right to marriage. Three months. You had three months. And that was generous.

“How am I… how?” You whispered, drying your face even though you knew that your tears were about to come back at full force. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“You won’t have to,” Wanda insisted strongly, her accent getting thicker with the emotion that she was putting out. The twins never told you where exactly they were from, but you knew that it was far away. Maybe even from across the sea, but that had nothing to do with you. “We will find a way to fix this, do you hear me?”

There was absolutely no way to fix it, and both you and Wanda knew it, no matter how stubborn she was deciding to be. You were going to be married to a man that you had never even seen before, and everyone was supposed to be fine with it. You were not.

§§

The second that Wanda left you alone, probably to conspire with her brother, you ran out of your room. You made a beeline out of the side door and nearly stumbled over an overgrown branch, but you caught yourself and kept pushing, walking quickly and missing all of the flowers that you typically stopped to look at and care for. Tears were in your eyes as you trailblazer through your safe space, destroying it with negative emotions and thoughts.

The second that you got to the rose bushes, you fell flat on your butt and put your face in your hands knowing that you were far away enough from everyone for them to not hear your cries. Even if they did, you were at the point where you didn’t have it in you to care. You were being given away against your own will to a power hungry man, who would probably make you leave this place and have you carted off to his own keep. Something told you that Rumlow was worse than your late husband could have ever been, and that said something.

“Are you hurt?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at hearing a voice so close to you. When you realized that it was Natasha, looking at you with more than mild curiosity, you inwardly groaned. “I’m fine.”

“What’s got you worked up?” When you didn’t answer immediately, she cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with how distraught you looked. “Was the bathwater not warm enough for you, my lady?”

Your tears stopped for a moment and you started laughing, putting a hand over your chest as you leaned back a bit. “If only bathwater was the height of my problems.”

“Is it political?”

“It might as well be.” It was.

You were both silent for a moment, and then, she sighed. “You’re getting married, aren’t you?”

Immediately, the air was yanked from your lungs, and you nearly broke your neck trying to look over at her. “How?”

“I know that look in your eyes,” she said softly, and you could have sworn that it was the softest tone she had ever taken with you. “It’s the look of someone being backed into a wall. You’re getting married to a man you don’t know, aren’t you?”

“Damn you knights and your observations,” you snarled, but your heart wasn’t in it and you both knew it. “I would rather die than marry this man.”

She had a confused expression on your face, like she thought you were acting irrationally. “Why are you worried about it, then? If you send a refusal fast enough-”

“He’s been chasing me ever since my husband died, and now he’s got the approval of the Church.” You saw her eyes widen. “There’s no way to stop this now.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, and then she looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s going to kill me.” You said aloud, and before she could tell you that you were being irrational, you kept going. “He’s had two wives, and one has never been seen again. The other was found with stab wounds in a forest, not even buried. He did it, I know he did. He’s an evil man-”

“Brock Rumlow?” Natasha asked, connecting the dots. Everyone knew about Rumlow and his wives. He was nothing short of a horror story. “Oh, fuck.” You didn’t even flinch at the language.

“He’s vile. I won’t live longer than a year-”

“Not if I can help it.”

You turned to look at her again, the smile on your face slightly condescending as you tried to gather yourself again. “What can you do? What can anyone actually do?”

“I’m here for a year,” she stated, and you nodded, an exasperated look on your face. “If you’re truly worried about him attempting on your life, I can be your guard for as long as I’m here.” She saw you open your mouth. “And before you ask what good that will do you, I can teach you, too.”

“Teach me to, what?”

“How to not get killed,” she said gruffly, and you frowned. “Defense.”

You looked at her for a long moment. “You’re not serious.”

“As serious as a murder.” She took a step closer to you. “I know that beneath all this anger, you’re really just scared. And upset. You don’t want to talk about it, I know that, but you should. It’s not good to bottle things up and wait for them to explode, trust me.”

You scoffed. “If I try to talk to someone, they will send me off and say I have some form of hysteria.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly, and you felt your heart beat nearly out of your chest. “You could spill your life to me for the next year, and then I’ll be gone. I’ll be like a journal you can trash. I wouldn’t tell a soul what we talk about, if you want to talk. And you could be the same for me. If you don’t want to learn to fight, you can at least speak.”

You considered it for a moment. “And then what?”

“After the year, we part ways.”

“What would you talk to me about?” The second question was so implied that you both heard it; we have nothing in common.

“Whatever comes up. We’ll just listen to each other, because god knows this kingdom hardly listens to women.” You gave her a long look in the silence, watching the way she watched you in return, and finally, she cleared her throat. “Do you accept?”

“No one can know,” you said quietly, and despite your lack of reasoning, she nodded. You both knew why. She took a step forward with an outstretched hand and you stared at it in the same way you did the first time she did it, but you took it quicker this time around.

“Every other night, I’ll meet with you..”

“Where, in the gardens?”

Her low laughter complimented the mood that set across you both. “Where else would we meet?”

****

here it is! the third part (that i am very nervous/not very pleased about)! comments and feedback are thoroughly appreciated! i’ve been really stressed out with work and school work lately and have not that much time to myself without staying up hella late, so i’m sorry if this = donkey’s ass. thank you guys for reading this 🥺

if you like the series so far, please remember to reblog! reblogging means so much to the people who do work of any kind up here. (omg not me begging for a reblog LMAO)

tags (you can ask to be removed or placed at any time!): @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @drdarcy-lewis @blackxwidowsxwife

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #lgbt marvel #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x female reader

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Flufftober Day 1 - Winning a Tedddy Bear for the Other

This is the only October prompt fic I was able to write, so uh. Hopefully you enjoy it!

2.5k words, pairings are pre-Logince, Dukexiety, and pre-Moceit

Nobody actually wins a teddy bear for anyone, despite their best efforts

Truly have no idea if this is solely an American hick town thing or not, but where I'm from, all the summer drama took place at the county fair; the hook-ups and break-ups and all the stuff that people would gossip about at the beginning of the school year. Except! The crew have just graduated and this is kind of their last hurrah before college and work and what have you.

Roman closed his eyes and tried to focus. He turned the basketball over in his hands, privately grossed out by the weird, sticky texture beneath his fingertips. He let the ambient noise of the county fair fade into the background. Focus. He just had to focus.

Then Virgil's voice shattered his concentration: "You know this game is rigged, right?"

Roman opened his eyes and, catching an annoyed glance from the carnival worker, sighed and hurled the ball at the hoop. It soared a neat arc and fell neatly through the center of the hoop. Ha. "I'll have you know I played basketball in middle school." He puffed out his chest a little and raised his arms so Virgil could admire his killer delts.

"And how old are you now?" Virgil leaned into Remus, who was lurking over his shoulder like some kind of lanky cathedral goblin. How Remus had landed a boyfriend before he did, Roman would never know.

The worker handed Roman another ball, which Roman accepted with a half-hearted "Thanks."

"It's true, though," Remus said, placing his chin on Virgil's shoulder. "The hoops are ovals."

"Everybody knows that," Roman huffed, and threw the ball.

"Yeet!" said Remus. Idiot.

The ball bounced off the rim. "You distracted me!" Roman huffed. The carnival worker held out another ball, but Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Oh, forget it!" Two baskets would only get him a stupid Minions keychain, and he definitely didn't want something that cursed in his possession. He turned and walked away, half-hoping Remus and Virgil wouldn't follow him.

"Dude, you paid for three tries," Virgil said.

Roman stopped and turned around and nearly got trampled by a herd of excited pre-teens. "You don't get it!" He gestured at Virgil and Remus' intertwined fingers, even now unable to fight back the wave of jealousy and longing that rose up inside him. "You guys already have your fairy--" He paused, corrected himself. "Your weird, creepy, Tim Burton fairytale dream. I have one shot to impress Logan tonight and I need to make the most of it!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Remus grabbed Roman by the wrist (ewww, Roman, just try not to think about where his hands have been) and dragged him over to a bench. "Your grand plan is to win Logan some lame carnival prize before he even gets here?"

"Oh, buddy." The mocking pity on Virgil's face was enough to make Roman blush. Jerk. All he'd had to do was sit around and wait for Remus to make the first move. "What makes you think that's even going to work?"

Roman stood up again, motioning for Virgil and Remus to stay seated. He'd had enough. "Because it's a grand, romantic gesture and I am a grand, romantic prince. Now leave me alone! You're wrecking my concentration and I'm supposed to meet Logan in an hour!" And he stalked off, soon getting lost in the crowd.

Virgil looked at Remus, who was wearing a look of undisguised masochistic glee. Still, Virgil ventured, more to soothe his own conscience than anything, "Should we try to help him?"

"Look!" Remus shot to his feet, pointing off into the distance. "Deep fried pickles!" He took off, nearly jerking Virgil's shoulder out of socket.

Virgil dodged an elderly woman and nearly tripped over his boots. "Roman?"

"No, I'm Remus."

"No, I mean, should we try-- Oh, forget it." Virgil wrapped his free hand around the back of Remus' and let Remus yank him through the crowd. There was a long line for the cart selling deep fried monstrosities because this was the county fair and people lost their humanity upon stepping through the gates. Not Virgil. He would sooner lick the door of the horse barn than consume anything from this horrorshow of a food cart. That was one thing Virgil and Roman could agree on: fair food was disgusting. Ah, poor Roman. "You do have to feel a little sorry for him, though," Virgil said, admiring the shiny piercings decorating the shell of Remus' ear.

"Who?" said Remus, standing on tiptoe and examining the crowd.

"Ro--"

"Oh, Roman?" Remus landed hard on his heels and nudged Virgil with his hip. "No I don't. A little heartbreak might take Sir Brags-a-Lot down a peg." Something caught his eye and he jerked his head away with a smile. "Hey. V. I'd like to dip my pickle in your deep fryer."

Virgil made a face, but soldiered on. "But he's had a crush on Logan since, what? As long as I've known him."

"Longer." Remus stuck out his tongue. "He and Logan were lab partners Freshman year. And I had to hear about him every single night." He lowered his voice into a passable imitation of Roman's, gesticulating with abandon. "'Ugh, Remus, this boy in my science class is so annoying; he knows about dumb shit like protons and covalent bonds. Who even cares about that? I don't. So I'm gonna keep talking about it for the entire bus ride home.' Nightmare."

"Exactly!" said Virgil, though he had kind of forgotten what he was getting at. What had he been getting at? He shuffled forward as the line moved and turned his fractured attention to the menu.

"Hey," said Remus, now drumming on Virgil's shoulder with his fingertips. "When was the last time you saw Pat and the Hat?"

"Who?"

"Come on, that was clever."

Virgil tapped his lower lip. "You mean Patton and Janus?" Remus just blinked at him. "I dunno, didn't they say they were buying tickets?"

"Yeah, like, 30 minutes ago.

The line moved forward again. Remus ordered his horrifying hell-pickle. Virgil ordered a lemonade, knowing full well that Remus would insist on paying anyway.

"Maybe," said Virgil, side-stepping away from the order window and deliberately ignoring the way Remus was running his tongue all up and down his deep-fried pickle, "they went to the petting zoo."

"Well, let's go get 'em," Remus said. "They don't get to ditch us just because Patton wanted to see the bunny rabbits."

The setting sun painted the clouds a brilliant orange. Patton sighed and stared out at the expanse of the fairgrounds beneath him. One by one, rides were starting to turn their lights on. It was exactly the most romantic time of evening, exactly how he'd wanted things to go when he suggested they take a quick ride on the Ferris wheel before tracking down the others.

Well.

Almost exactly.

"I should sue," Janus said. Again. He looked over the edge of their basket where it dangled almost exactly at the top of the Ferris wheel. "How long would you say we've been stuck up here?"

"Um," said Patton, trying to wiggle his phone out of his pocket.

"What if I was diabetic, hm? What if one of us needed to take life-saving medication and couldn't because we were stuck at the top of this death trap?"

"But Janus." Patton waited for Janus to meet his eyes, then smiled. "We don't."

The magic didn't last. "It's the principle of the thing!" Janus said explosively, looking away in obvious agitation.

Patton rallied and tried again. "You don't think it's kinda romantic? I mean, look out there." He gestured at the lit-up fairgrounds and the golden haloes of clouds.

Janus huffed and didn't look. "I don't see what's so romantic about a potential reckless endangerment lawsuit." And he was off again, ranting about confusing legal concepts and other things Patton wouldn't care about, except that they were important to Janus.

Oh, well. He sighed and watched the blinking lights of El Niño. If they got down soon, maybe he could win Janus a teddy bear or something and make his confession then.

"What color?"

Roman ran a hand through his hair. Of all the games to have a knack for, he hadn't expected darts. "Pink, I guess-- No, wait, the blue one."

The attendant nodded and handed Roman a flimsy acoustic guitar. "Congrats, man."

"Thanks." Roman turned to go. He had to meet Logan at the gates soon. At least he wasn't doing it empty-handed, not that a barely-playable guitar was a particularly romantic gift. Realy, who was he kidding? Logan didn't want the guitar and Logan didn't want him.

The fairground lights lit everything up a sickly green. Roman scanned the crowd at the midway, trying to determine the best way through, when his gaze fell on a familiar pair of glasses.

He was still trying to decide how to react when Logan reached him, his arms full of brightly-colored stuffed lemurs. "Hello, Roman."

"How long have you been here?" Roman demanded. The idea that Logan had been sneaking around, avoiding him, sat heavy in his stomach.

But to Roman's surprise, Logan blushed. "Not long," he said, shifting his weight. "I wanted-- Well, it seems foolish now."

Roman forgot his anger in an instant. "What? C'mon, Lo, I don't think you're even capable of being foolish."

"I had thought," Logan dropped his gaze to the stuffed lemurs in his arms, "I had thought that if I came early, I might be able to win something big and--" He cleared his throat. "And give it to you."

"Why?" Roman demanded. Why would Logan copy his plan?

"Well, Roman," Logan said in such a clipped, professional voice that he might have been delivering the weather report, "traditionally, winning a large prize for your sweetheart at the county fair is a romantic gesture."

"But I'm not your sw-- Oh." Roman's jaw dropped. The guitar's strings dug into his fingers. Then he started to laugh. Logan's expression hardened, but he stayed put, staring intently at Roman. "I'm sorry!" Roman choked out, brandishing the guitar at Logan as some sort of peace offering, though Logan didn't have a free hand to take it. "I was--" Tears streamed hot and ticklish down Roman's cheeks, his entire body still spasming with stifled laughs. "I was trying to do the same thing! That's how I got this stupid guitar."

"Oh," said Logan. "Oh, dear."

"Come on, let's sort this out." Roman stood on his tiptoes, spotted an empty bench, and led Logan to it.

"This is terribly awkward," Logan said, adjusting the lemurs in his arms. "Do you even want these?"

"Not really," Roman said. He held up the guitar. "Do you want this?"

"I don't."

They smiled at each other. "You know," said Roman, hurriedly counting Logan's stuffed lemurs. "You can trade six of those in for a kiss."

"Piercings!" Remus tugged on Virgil's sleeve and gestured at the booth.

"I thought we were looking for Patton and Janus," Virgil said, already trying to think of a way to keep Remus from getting an ill-advised piercing.

"Forget them! I wanna get my tongue done."

"Here?" Virgil asked as Remus tugged him closer and closer to the piercing booth. "We're, like, six feet away from a horse barn. You're gonna get an infection."

"Damn, V, it's not like I'm gonna French kiss the horses."

Virgil bit his lip and made a second attempt. "Don't you have enough holes punched in yourself?"

"Nope!" They reached the booth and Remus bounced on his toes while he studied the laminated photographs pinned to one of the tent walls.

"Fine, but don't expect any kisses until that piercing is fully healed," Virgil said, struck by an eleventh-hour moment of genius.

"Hold up." Remus turned around and stared at Virgil. "What?"

"You heard me." Advantage secured, Virgil relaxed a little and even managed a sneer. "No kisses until I'm 100% sure you're not gonna get blood or anything else in my mouth."

"Baaaabe." Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil's shoulders and let Virgil take some of his weight. "You're killing me! What about my self-expression?"

"You can get your tongue pierced," Virgil said, "just not at some shady horse barn-adjacent piercing booth run by a bunch of traveling randos."

"I'm an American," Remus mumbled into Virg's collarbone. "It's my God-given right to die of a horse infection because I got my tongue pierced at a-- Whatever you said."

"C'mon." Virgil stood Remus upright and took him by the hand. "I'll pay for you to get your tongue pierced at that nice place downtown. Or I'll get Janus to pay for it. Next birthday. I promise."

"Thanks, I guess," Remus muttered. He was obviously trying to pout, but his face kept cracking into a smile.

"And as for your self-expression…" Face-painting booths were a dime a dozen at the fair; you practically couldn't turn a corner without running into some kid with their face painted to look like Spider-Man. Virgil pointed to the closest one and continued to lead Remus toward it. "I'm thinking spider eyes for me, kraken for you?" Remus took a breath, but Virgil knew better. "There's no way anyone is going to paint a photorealistic dick on your face."

"Alriiiiight," Remus said. "Kraken it is."

The sun was now nearly gone over the horizon, only visible as a faint golden line. Janus had finally worn himself out and gone silent, though even in the darkness, Patton could see the annoyance smoldering in his eyes.

Oh, he was so cute. Even when he was annoyed. Which, granted, seemed to be most of them time, although some of it had to be an act. He smiled sometimes, when he thought Patton wasn't looking.

It was those secret smiles that had given Patton the courage to make this plan. He jiggled his leg and swallowed as nerves sent flutters of nausea through his belly. "Um, Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," Patton started, "since we're stuck up here and everything."

"Don't remind me."

"I mean, you know, It's not all bad. If I have to be stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel, I'm glad it's with you. I… I'm glad it's us."

For a moment, Janus was silent. Then he said, in a tone of suspicion: "You're trying to cheer me up."

Patton sighed. As smart as Janus was, he just didn't seem to be putting the pieces together. Although, that was as much Patton's fault as it was Janus'. Well, it was mostly Patton's fault. He just had to be brave. "Look, Janus, I had this whole plan where we were gonna ride the Ferris wheel together and it was gonna pause at the top and while we were looking out over the fairground, I--" His breath hitched.

"...Was going to push me over the edge?" Janus asked.

"I was gonna do this." Rainbow lights from the Ferris wheel spokes danced across Janus' face. Patton leaned over and took his hands. "Janus, I really like you. And I want--"

"Yes," said Janus. "Whatever you're about to say, yes."

So Patton kissed him.

#queuing this for later today as well #i truly have no idea when you people are online #spicypost #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #logince #dukexiety #spicywrites

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spacegirlapollo · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Be Friends [Dazai x Reader Smut]

Dazai x Reader Smutty One shot

4,000+ words

Summary: After the death of his beloved friend, Dazai can’t trust love. But then you come bumbling into the picture and he can’t resist falling for you.

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Dazai had always been fascinated by magnets, that somewhere written deep in the earth's rules, it had been decided that two objects would eternally be bound together if fate allows them to. On the other hand they could push the other away, with the same ease.

He’s lived his life like a magnet, especially after Oda’s death. He couldn’t help it, although he desperately tried to not care about others it was simply impossible. To fulfill Oda’s dying wishes , he had to care about the people around him. He dared not admit it but he cared. He cared about Kunikida and the others at the agency. He especially cared about Atsushi and thought quite often of Chuuya and Akutagawa and how they were faring. To many souls to think about. So he cared, drawing them all in like magnets, connecting and then turning away pushing back against them when they got to close.

And at the center of it all was you. You were the crowning jewel in his grand hall of people he cared about, thought and worried and languished about. You reminded him of Oda sometimes. And if he squinted at you maybe he could see Oda’s piercing eyes and not so easy smile.

He was in love with you, that much was sure, and it was a secret, to everyone but him. He was much too smart to not understand his longing for you, the way his heart rate picked up at your closeness and he often found himself longing to hear your voice.

He didn’t think it would happen to him of all people. Sure he loved Oda, and he wasn’t sure if it was just as friends either, but this was different.

He’d met you almost immediately after his return to society, now on the side of the “good guys”. You were Fukizawa’s niece and a fixture at the agency. He wondered often how long his stay at the agency would have been had it not been for you.

In the beginning, Dazai couldn’t help himself, he had absolutely no self control over his magnets and the two of you connected, making quick friends. Wherever you went he would gladly follow.

Then you’d been attacked, remnants of Dazai’s past life finally rearing consequences upon you. You’d nearly died, even though you were a force to recon with in battle. Fukizawa had been the one to save you in the end. It was salt over Dazai’s wound that you were hurt because of him, and he hadn’t been there to save you.

It was a hard way to learn a lesson. To be smacked in the face with his universal truth. Everyone he gets close to will die, and it’ll be his fault.

You weren’t so easy to push away though, ripping you from his life was taking a piece of his soul slowly, and besides he’d promised to be good and the Agency was the best place for that. So he stayed, but your friendship suffered in its wake. You got the message eventually, not bothering to call upon him at midnight anymore and late night trips for food had stopped.

You’d never let on how it made you feel, and that somehow was worse for Dazai.

He’d thought you’d replace him, he was mentally prepared to see you and Kunikida laughing At the lunch table. But it was more often that you’d head to lunch alone, or leave work alone.

With newcomer Atsushi, things changed a little. You’d taken a strong liking to the boy, and he could tell you’d adopted Atsushi, as If you were his mother or aunt or something. Fretting and worrying. Dazai could see that the two of you were co-parenting in a way.

Then Kyouka came and you and Atsushi’s time spent together became less, and you ate alone once again.

Dazai observed this all as if he was peering into a fish bowl. Observing the lives of others and indirectly interacting with them but never jumping into the water. He thought himself clever. No one would know how much he loved you. That was until simple, observant Atsushi said something.

“Dazai-San?”

“Yeah?”

They were both sitting in the open floor plan area of the agency, paperwork stacking high between the two of them. On his part Atsushi was trying to conquer the work while Dazai was listening in to your conversation with Kunikida from across the room. You were laughing, and Dazai thought maybe this was it, you were finally replacing him. Good.

“Uh…”

Dazai lifted his eyes from you and his partner to rest upon Atsushi, whose voice was uncertain. Dazai had learned from day two, that he should listen to Atsushi, who occasionally sculpted diamonds from words.

Atsushi tensed with Dazai’s eyes upon him.

“I was just .... “ he sighed and swallowed his voice coming out low and a whisper.

“Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dazai blinked. Not responding, although that might give away more than he would have liked.

“It’s just that.” Atsushi seemed even more unnerved by Dazai’s non answer, seeing as the brown hair boy loved to talk.

“You always look up when she enters a room, like you know she’s there. You always stare at each other when you think the other isn’t looking.” Atsushi’s voice faded off. “Stuff- stuff like that.”

Dazai was half stuck thinking that he’d made a good choice of Atsushi for the Agency, and the other half was thinking about what he’d said. - staring at each other.-

You looked at him too?

“S-sorry.” Atsushi said, fearing he’d said too much. He had but that was fine.

“Am I really that easy to read?” Dazai asked his eyes back on you and Kunikida. Kunikida was blushing as you walked away, his eyes firmly on your lower back side. Dazai felt a feeling stirring in him. But he shoved it down harsly. There was no place for those feelings to show.

Atsushi shook his head. “No, you're quite hard to read. Dazai-San. Y/N is much easier to read, once I understood why she looks at you like that I realized you were looking at her the same way.”

Diamonds. Dazai thought , Atsushi was capable of making diamonds.

————-

It was the fall time, the leaves had departed from their family tree or changed colors and the roads of Yokahama were cold and filled with that feeling you only got during the coming of winter.

Dazai had to work late, once Kunikida found out just how behind he was on his work, Dazai had been essentially chained to his desk. He could tell there were a few people left in the office as some lights were still on. Signing the last page he sighed standing up immediately, Kunikida would be satisfied with his progress and he could pick it up again on Monday, although he was secretary hoping for a case to come and push the paperwork to the side.

He tucked his hands in his pocket and made his way outside. It was a moment later that he realized that it was raining. The door to the cafe closed behind him and he stood under the awning, thinking with dread about walking through the rain to the subway station.

“No umbrella ?” You asked, and Dazai wasn’t sure how you’d been standing there that whole time and he did not notice. He turned to you his heart thudding rhythmically in his chest. You were as beautiful as ever, and you looked warm, swathed in faux fur jackets. He thought about how wonderful it would feel to lay in your lap and feel your fingers through his hair.

You turned away from him breaking his guilty illusion and rummaged around in your bag. You pulled out an umbrella, identical to the one you were already holding. You extended it out to him with a smile playing on your lips.

“You never carry an umbrella, Dazai.”

His name on your lips was joy, he realized as his lips parted in surprise. You knew him entirely too well and Atsushi was starting to as well. How had he failed so spectacularly in pushing people away.

He took the umbrella, unable to stop the smile on his face.

“Why would I ,Y/N when I always have you to have an extra for me?” He teased. He couldn’t help it, months of pushing you away and he was cracking like an egg from a simple gesture.

Your eyes met and he saw the faintest blush upon your cheeks. He wanted to kiss you. Badly. He blinked and looked away. This wouldn’t do, he needed to get home and fast.

He would let his mind slip for one night, maybe have a drink or two and stroke himself, your name hanging off his lips like smoke to a cigarette. That’s what he would do. He just needed to get to the station now.

“Dazai?”

Your words were soft but firm. The way you sounded when you’d gathered up all tour couraged and readied yourself for a fight.

He turned back to you, and your eyes shone with determination.

“Let’s go get dinner together.”

————-

Dinner, was located in a small corner of Yokohama, that only the locals seemed to know about. You either lived there or crashed there by accident. The restaurant was a hole in the wall, quite literally. It was an interesting place, made of stone and brick, with no real windows or doors, just, holes in the stone. It reminded Dazai of an old century oven, it had a large awning covering to keep the rain from the tables out front. Strings of light were laced around the stone building illuminating it in the darkness of the Yokahama streets.

It was a place that the both of you were familiar with, having spent many nights here, sipping hot tea and talking. Upon seeing it for the first time in months, Dazai saw just how romantic the place really was and was regretting his decision to follow you here.

Now seated you picked up the menu and started to scan it.

“You already know what you want. Y/N” Dazai said amused. “You always order the same thing.”

His smile grew as you put down the menu and glared at his teasing. “What if I wanted something different this time.”

“Hell would freeze over Y/N. And the flying pigs would be out as soon as the rain stopped.”

You scoffed cutely. “just for that I’m ordering something different.”

“I wouldn’t.” Dazai said, “ you remember the last time you were adventurous.”

Your eyes were wide with embarrassment.

“You swore you would never bring it up!”

“To anyone else.” Dazai corrected. He thought back on the time you’d ordered something new, and were so sick he’d brought you home, and had to hold your hair as you puked over the toilet. Obviously embarrassing for you but a fondly domestic memory for Dazai.

The waitress interrupted whatever you were going to say next and further Dazai’s amusement you ordered your regular.

“Dazai” you said after the waitress had collected your orders and it had been quiet for a while. Dazai’s heart started to thump again, the real reason you’d asked him to come to dinner was coming. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

You had that look again, that stored up courage look. “ Let’s be friends again.”

He wasn’t sure if this was on his list of things he expected you to say. Some irrational part of his thought this would be your announcement of your engagement to Kunikida which he would have congratulated you on and then left to get very very drunk.

Your fists were clenched in your lap as you forced yourself to look at him.

“I’m sorry… if I did something wrong, and that’s why you stopped wanting to be around me. If I was - annoying or something I can-“

“Y/N” you blinked almost jerking at Dazai’s sudden harsh tone. He was angry, suddenly,

“You could never annoy me.”

The statement hung heavy in the air like cement.

“And you don’t have anything to apologize for.” He tried to soften his voice as he wasn’t angry at you. He was more angry at himself. That’s why you thought he’d pushed you away?

“Then why-“

“We can’t be friends.. Y/N” better to cut this off now. A few drinks was sounding better by the second. He dared a glance at your face and regretted it. You looked shattered, then confused, then angry. He hadn’t really seen you angry. It was beautiful in a way.

A hot tear pressed down your cheek and you angrily wiped it away.

“Why.” You asked now a wobble in your otherwise hard tone.

“It’s better to remain professional in the workplace.” Dazai offered up, it was weak but his mind was spinning so his normal snake charming words were not coming to him.

“Bullshit.” You said leaning forward. “You're not that way with anyone else in the agency. Hell you're not professional at all.”

Dazai smiled at this, despite how heavy he was feeling.

“That’s fair.” He said softly.

“Stop fucking with me Dazai.” You said anger still dripping over your tone although you were trying to keep it down since others were around.

“One night were drunk together and up till 4am telling each other everything and the next week you stopped talking to me.”

Your voice broke at the end of that. Another angry tear wipe. You pointed at him now.

“You let me in, you let me see you, and now you're going to pretend like we weren’t something?”

“Yes.” Dazai said with an edge . “ yes I am going to pretend.”

“Why!” Your voice went a little higher than a regular speaking voice drawing a few more eyes but neither of you cared. There was only the person sitting in front of the other.

“Because Y/N. I don’t want to be just friends.” Dazai felt like a popped balloon, that air just coming out of him rapidly. Years of holding that very phrase in and here he was whisper- shouting it at you in his favorite hole in the wall. That was only his favorite because of his memories with you.

He kept going now, no sense in stopping now. “ I want to hold your hand, to kiss you, to be the last thing you see at night and the first thing you see in the morning. I want to hold you when you're sad, and tease you when you do something embarrassing. I want you to fill up my life with your light” it was a mouthful, and Dazai sighed, looking up at you now, your face in shock.

You smiled suddenly, another tear falling but you didn’t make a move to wipe it away.

“I don’t want to be just friends either Dazai.” You said and he felt his heart starting its kathunk kathunk in his chest again.

“I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way as I did. But I wanted to be near you. And things were so great when we were friends. And then we stopped and I thought at least I could still be around you. But I don’t want that it’s not enough. Just being around you, just being your friend isn’t enough. I want to be with you. Dazai.”

Dazai swallowed hard, if Atsushi’s words were diamonds you were like the rain. Cleansing away the unsightly parts of himself that he hated, he picked at. Soothing the old wounds that he’d left open as punishment to himself.

“We can’t… I can’t….” Dazai couldn’t finish. He looked up to you. “Every Time I love someone they die.” He shook his head slightly. “and I won’t lose you too.”

He thought then of Oda. He still couldn’t decide how he’d loved the man, there was a seed there, growing, and if he’d had more time, Dazai thinks he could have figured it out. Did he love Oda the way he loved Atshushi or Kunikida or did he love Oda the way he’d loved you?

But for Oda to be alive, and Dazai to have an answer to that question, Dazai needed to have removed himself from Oda’s life.

Dazai’s thoughts of Oda evaporated as he felt the warm touch of your hand to his. He looked up at you then, your eyes a calm steady sea to his stormy brooding ones.

He wanted to steal you away from the others eyes, take you somewhere safe where only he could gaze upon you. Strange feelings from someone who spent so much effort in not caring.

“You're a good person, Dazai.” You said. “I’ve seen it, I’ve seen your soul. Death is not the punishment for love. Life takes who she wants when she wants regardless of who we love and what we want. I’d rather die, having known your love than live forever without it.”

He kissed you then, over the tea that had gone cold, besides the people who were pretending not to listen to your conversation. The only thing he could hear was the sounds of rain dancing on the canopy above your heads.

———

Somehow the both of you knew that going home alone wasn’t an option. As the hole in the wall was closest to your place, it was decided without speaking that that is where you would go. You walked there holding hands.

Dazai’s mind was spinning with thoughts of your kiss, thoughts of you he’d tried to keep down but it wasn’t working and his pants were stiffening.

You’d looked at him, one look, that set him on fire. And as you crossed into your apartment threshold, he couldn’t seem to grab enough of you. The umbrella he’d borrowed from you was on the floor, along with your pretty coat, leaving wet stains on the floor. You were pressed between him in the wall, your hands deep into his tresses as he kissed you, his hands gripping almost painfully at your sides.

He pressed his lower body up against you unable to control the moan that came from his mouth at the contact of his hardened self against you.

“I need you.” He breathed out sounding so impossibly vulnerable.

“You have me.” You said between kisses, and so he did, his wide palms sliding below your waist end scooping you into the air, your legs wrapped around his lanky figure.

He carried you to your room, my memory as you had yet to stop kissing him, and he couldn’t see.

When he was there you fell into the bed, soft covers swallowing you up. He had thoughts to tease you, to take things slow, and feel every single moment of this. But as his fingers seperated your pants buttons and found their way to your core he couldn’t stop himself from pleasuring you.

Your moans were honey, as he slid down your clothing and his mouth latched to your clit. One of your hands had traveled to his hair and the other was gripping his arm which was around your waist keeping your hips down to the bed.

He wanted more from you working his tongue and fingers at a devastating pace. His cock painful in his pants at your honey dripped moans. His hand pressed down hard against your waist as you bucked against his face, sweat beading on your chest, it felt terribly good.

“Daz-“ you choked out as you reached your end, your hand pulling at the base of his roots causing him to moan into your pussy.

You couldn’t hold back your moan as you came, hard and fast, cheeks hot as he kept going riding you through your orgasm.

Dazai felt your body go limp after you came, and he stood up reaching to unbutton his shirt but then your hands over lapped his and you began to remove his shirt. His lips were on your again as your removed his clothes.

Dazai let out a small noise of surprise when you turned and pushed him towards the bed. He went willingly though his eyes half lidded in lust as you crawled over to him straddling his waist. He was taking you in, and fuck if he couldn’t come now just looking at you.

You leaned forward ticking a finger under his chin and guiding his lips back to yours. Dazai felt his control slipping but he didn’t mind. He wanted to be yours, all yours. You could do whatever you wanted to him.

“Let me make you feel good.”’you whispered

He hissed as you sank slowly down onto him your warmth wrapping around him like a vice. Damnit.

You moved again rising up your hips and bringing them back down at an agonizingly slow pace. This whole time he’d thought to tease you and it was you teasing him.

Almost as if you were reading his mind you smirked dipping slower to kiss his neck. Dazai jerked, another moan on his lips as you kissed at his newly discovered sensitive spot.

You’d hip were starting to pick up the pace a bit, sucking hard against his neck. Your pace and attack on his neck was torture, the best kind.

His hands gripped your ass tightly now as you rode him, biting deeply against his neck. With each slap of skin you moved faster, Dazai felt like he could explode, and maybe he would.

He couldn’t help himself, his hips snapping up into you suddenly causing you to throw your head back and moan. Oh yes he wanted more of that.

Your hands fell to his chest as he fucked you, his dick pressing up against that spot that was making you unravel.

In one swift motion he’d switched the flow and you were on your back again, and he was in between you. Your hands flew around his neck as he re-entered you.

“Mhfph” you choked out as he pressed deep into you, moaning your name sweetly into your ear.

He was one with you, as close as his magnet could reach, and though the fear of losing you still loomed in his mind, Dazai was in true bliss.

You were close, that feeling of knitting in your stomach, his strong deep strokes had left you gasping.

“Osamu” you crooned, and he looked down at you now.

“Say that again.” He breathed out.

Dazai felt like he was going to unravel, right as you’d said his name, the way it slipped from your mouth had his heart racing.

He thrusted faster , kissing along your neck now.

“Say it, say it again.” He moaned out.

“Mmm Osamu, “ you repeated his name over and over again like a holy chant. “Please.”

His strokes were coming uneven, as he leaned down to take your sweet lips with his again, fucking hell he was going to come now, in the woman he’d loved for years.

“Come with me.” He breathed out and you nodded rapidly, he pressed his forehead to yours as you felt yourself come apart at the edges. Sweeping in nothing but pleasure you both came.

“Osamu!” You cried out eyes shut in ecstasy.

———-

Neither of you could be bothered to leave the bed. Dazai was holding you to his chest, your face in the crook of his neck, your heartbeats matching each other’s.

“You know it’s too late for you now right?” You whispered, his fingers playing with your hair.

Dazai smiled. “It was too late for me since the moment we met.”

You chuckled softly, “that’s so cheesy.”

Dazai chuckled back, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah to bad you’ve got to deal with it from now on.”

“I love you, Osamu” Dazai heard you say, and even if he maybe thought he knew you did, it was different to hear you say it. He felt like he could break into a million pieces. Some stone cold bastard he was, he was absolute putty in your hands.

“I love you to, Y/N”

#dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x reader smut #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd smut #bsd fanfic

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alolowrites · 4 years ago

Text

Missed You

Summary: Bakugou realizes how much he still misses you after seeing you at the Hero Gala.

Song Inspiration: “Missed You” by The Weeknd

Tropes: Song fics

Author’s Note: Hey everyone!! So this fic is for @byougen for the Attack on Academia Secret Santa event! It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to write and went through so many drafts/ideas until I landed with this one. I’m a huge fan of The Weeknd and I’ve been listening to his recent album After Hours nonstop that an AI bot roasted me so hard for it (lmao).

I hope you like, it’s been quite some time that I wrote an angst fic too (but there’s a happy-ish ending?? idk, but it’s not sad at the end hahaha). Enjoy!

Word Count: 1K+

“This is so fucking stupid.”

Bakugou yanked the damn black tie that suffocated his neck, not caring if the fabric ripped in two. The pro hero needed fresh air; the disgusting stench of luxurious fragrances irritated him so much, he thought he might actually explode. At least, that was what Bakugou wanted to believe. Deep down, it was seeing you tonight at the Hero Gala.

Through the thick crowds, Bakugou froze after spotting you across the grand ballroom, looking radiant as the sun. Your smile was warm and inviting, the same one that blessed his eyes when he first met you almost a year ago. The smile faltered when you locked eyes with him, and Bakugou couldn’t look away.

However, that was the last thing he wanted to do. After three months of darkness, Bakugou was staring into the light that was your mesmerizing eyes. But the moment was brief, and you eventually blinked away, composing yourself before greeting a random guest with a polite shake. Bakugou clenched his fist to control the sharp pain shooting through his heart.

He stormed out of the ballroom, hunching over the balcony with ragged breaths. The joyous celebration faded in and out until it disappeared. His simmering red eyes glared at the stony surface that nearly turned into dust. He gritted out, “I’m so fucking stupid. So damn stupid—”

“Katsuki?”

His heart skipped a beat. That voice—the one that sounded like the sweetest song which haunted his mind every night—made his ears twitched. Bakugou stood like a statue yet was internally shaking as he heard your footsteps get closer. You were beside him, just not as close as Bakugou had hoped for.

Staring forward, he grunted, “What do you want?”

“I, um, needed some fresh air,” you cleared your throat, feeling the heat radiating off Bakugou’s body. “It was getting crowded inside.”

“Tch, the place is always so damn crowded.”

“Mind if I stay out here for a bit?”

“Whatever.”

Bakugou shoved one hand into his pocket, inhaling silently to calm down his racing heart that threatened to burst through his rib cage. Your voice hasn’t changed one bit, and it drove him insane. He tried to remain strong, but curiosity got the best of him, and he secretly peeked your way; yup, it was you, alright. Bakugou’s eyes closed as he cursed at the damn universe for making tonight so fucking difficult.

Even with eyes closed, he could read you loud and clear. “You got something to say, so spill.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Bakugou turned to look at you, swallowing a thick gulp and possibly burning the pants’ pocket. Damn your warm, concerned eyes that easily lowered all of his defensive walls; they were staring at him, a vulnerable side that only a few people had seen. Bakugou felt his stoic mask crumble as you slowly slid closer toward him. “You know you can always talk to me.”

Bakugou stayed quiet, his whole body shaking as your fingers brushed below his chin. A jolt ran down his spine, your touches igniting a flame that was on its last dying breath. His crimson eyes watched as you fixed his unkempt black tie like always. Whether he had those business meetings or needed to attend the dreaded hero functions, such as the Hero Gala, you always fixed his tie. It was never too loose or too tight around his neck.

He could never get it right after letting you go. It was the biggest mistake Bakugou made in his life. He fucking missed you so much, but the damage was already done. And his heart was like a lone wolf howling at the moon, mourning the loss of something special.

“There,” you tugged the tie into place, a small smile gracing your lips. “All fixed now.”

“…thank you.”

You nodded, straightening the dress shirt’s wrinkles along his collarbone. Old habits apparently die hard; you then stopped and stared at his tie. Eventually, your eyes wandered up to gaze directly into his own, drowning in the sorrowing red sea. The waves were crashing upon you as Bakugou leaned dangerously close to your face, yet you didn’t move an inch.

A part of you didn’t want to. Like Bakugou, you missed him as well. As much as you tried moving on, tried to heal your broken heart, you kept aching for him. The man was your first love, and he will forever stay with you no matter where you go. But you couldn’t go back with him. At least not right now.

With a sigh, you reached for his calloused hands and held them close to yours. Bakugou flickered between them and your woeful eyes, though a trembling smile fought so hard to stay on your face.

“Even though we’re not together anymore,” your lips parted, whispering so softly that Bakugou clenched his jaw to stay strong, “just know that I will always care for you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou lowered his head, letting your words burn into his memory. He squeezed your hands before loosening his grip on them. You thought that was the end of it and took a step back, but Bakugou stopped you. Your chest tightened when he rasped out your name.

“I’m sorry if I let you down,” he murmured, exhaling through his nose as you gazed at him. The pro hero slowly raised his head, and your breath hitched. Everything around you vanished except for Bakugou and the unwavering determination swirling inside his warrior eyes. The burning desire grew as he held you for dear life. “But that won’t happen again. I’ll fight for you with everything I got.”

Bakugou flashed you a fervid grin that you’ve seen many times before. It meant one thing—he was prepared to win.

“I don’t give up that easily, princess. Remember that.”

Your heart officially stopped. Bakugou was always a man of his word. The pro hero gave you a final squeeze before letting you go, no longer afraid that you would disappear from his life again. You nodded, not trusting your words at the moment. The music roared from behind, breaking the deafening silence that circled around you both.

Bakugou leaned against the balcony, watching as you numbly drifted away until you slipped through those doors. His gaze never wavered; it was the last thing he wanted to do. Bakugou missed you dearly. And after three months of darkness, he was ready to have you—his light—back into his life.

Thanks for reading!!

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #secret santa fic

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 7

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Last years collection my ass you think holding your head high as you slip your hand around Zemo’s arm. This dress is so killer you could slay a few of the rich old dragons watching as the Baron escorts you into the ballroom.

You have to give him credit, not that he’s hurting for it but the man has taste.

The dress is black, long sleeved and stops mid-thigh. The cut of the shoulders is exaggerated just enough to draw attention. But what does it for you—the little bit of something special that no one else can see— is the fact that he had Maureen do some extra tailoring and now you know why he wanted you in this particular dress.

When Zemo stood behind you earlier at the apartment and zipped you up, the high turtleneck slowly closed around your throat mimicking the Baron’s own firm hold on your neck. You’d gasped with a fleeting sensation of panic but calmed when he kissed the spot behind your ear, and grabbed your hips, pressing his erection against your ass as he inhaled the scent of your hair. His muffled moan had vibrated through your shoulders and for the first time you realized the level of restraint his particular kind of kink required on his part too and you felt strangely bonded to him through your wonderful suffering. His lips brushed the curve of your ear as he’d whispered… “So that you don’t forget who you belong to.”

After that he’d given you permission to take off the underwear saying that the dress was enough and you’d thanked him, happy to be free of those perfectly evil things.

So now, you’re walking through this opulent ballroom collared and claimed and thankful to be so cared for by a man you can trust with your body enough to let him do these things to you.

“Remember to stay in character.” He says, eyes scanning the crowd “We can not let them know who we are.”

“Of course…Stavro” You say really emphasizing the fake name you deiced he needed on the ride over. Having given up on convincing you it wasn’t necessary he just laughs and kisses your temple before leading you further in.

You love to see him happy even when it’s fleeting and you steal a glance at Zemo in his dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, all of it tailored to the last stitch. He looks Breathtaking as usual… if you could breathe. You run your fingers down the center of your collar and flush feeling a resurgence of that deep connection. You are his and he is most certainly yours. It’s a good thing too, because this place is crawling with horny old men…

The ballroom of this grand hotel has been set up for a casino themed fundraiser. The sort where getting in cost a yacht. Zemo however seemed to have little trouble faking his way onto the list— at least you think he lied— and now you realize you haven’t done anything like this in forever, and certainly not with stakes this high.

The point of being here (as Zemo explained in the car) is to get this guy Polinsky to either give up what he knows about the serum Zemo is tracking down or get his hotel key to search his room. Either works, one is more desirable than the next but When Zemo’s target turns out to be the first man to openly flirt with you, the Baron lets the fates decide and whispers “Go with it”

Acting as though you aren’t here together, he goes down to the side of the craps table, pretending to be interested in the gambling while watching you two.

Polinsky is loud and crude and you really think you might shove the dice in his eye if he looks at you like that again, but Zemo is still calm and collected so you continue to play along. When Zemo motions for you to drink, you take one off the servers tray and share it with Polinksy who probably doesn’t need much more.

Just when you think this is going no where and you’re tired of being used as a ploy, Zemo does his thing.

He brings up Polinksy’s accent and it’s revealed that he’s Sokovian. They become fast friends and after a few more wins, the target is telling the Baron everything, unfortunately it’s not what he needs to hear and you can tell that he’s starting to grow impatient.

You’ve only ever seen what happens when Zemo is sick of you not listening to his commands, and it's cruel in the best way. So what happens in the real world when a dangerous, genius man with a military background is tired of waiting?

When Polinksy tells you to blow on his dice for luck and casually reaches to get a good handful of your ass as you do, you know you’re about to find out.

Zemo moves without much effort or thought, you see it and spot the instinct to protect what’s his immediately. His grip on Polinsky’s arm is shocking and the man’s face goes red instantly with drunken outrage.

Jaw clenched and eyes wide, you see that Zemo is ready to break Polinsky’s arm, but you quickly step between them and lay a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. “No.” You mouth shaking your head. “Follow my lead” You say low enough so that only he can hear.

Zemo gives you an intrigued head tilt, glances up at the man one last time then flings his arm away. “She’s not available.” He snaps at the man who is more annoyed than ready for a fight.

“Forgive me for speaking without asking sir.” You bow your head to Zemo then look up at Polinsky. “He likes to be the one to say when and how I am touched. But he let’s other men do much more than that for the right price…”

Polinksy quickly catches on and shoots a look at the Baron.

Zemo understands instantly and straightens his head. “Apologies, I should have made it clear. She can be yours, but not without me there to insist she be compliant.” He reaches and slides his finger down the side of your face, his hand going around the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your collar and you lift your chin and shut your eyes so that Polinsky can see what sort of situation he’s being presented with.

Someone yells for Polinsky to roll the dice which he does. The small crowd goes wild with another win, but the three of you stay silent.

"How much?”

“Six thousand.”

“Done”

“To watch. Eight to touch.”

He frowns, but when Zemo smacks your ass and you give a little yelp, Polinsky nearly drools. “Sold.”

You’re standing in the middle of the hotel room. Zemo is in the chair in the corner and Polinksy is sitting on the bed.

You’re scared, wondering how far this will go, but one look over at him and you know Zemo would never sell you like this. Not really. He’ll protect you.

“Turn around and bend over.” Polinksy says unzipping his pants.

You glance at Zemo who gives the nod to obey.

You do and you can hear the man moaning when he see’s the line of your pale pink underwear.

“Spread.” He growls standing.

The blood is rushing to your head as you look over to Zemo not bothering to hide your fear.

The Baron is quietly standing up. You reach back and lay your hands flat on your ass and start to, but it’s too much. You don’t know this man.

“I said spread!” Polinksy shouts and you shut your eyes half expecting to feel his hand make contact with your skin, but it doesn’t come.

You quickly stand in time to see Zemo grab his arm and punch the man once before kicking him down and onto the floor. You back away wide eyed, your heart racing and you pull your dress down.

Polinksy is groaning and reaching up as if to grab hold of something but Zemo doesn’t give him a second chance. With a swinging kick to the head, he knocks the man out and you are stunned to see what the Baron is capable of.

“ I needed him off his guard completely. I would not have let him touch you.” Zemo says still looking down at Polinsky who is out cold. He turns away from the gross sight to find you.

You nod but you’re shaken. “ Please, just get what you need and let’s go.”

For a change he listens to you and you watch him rip the room apart until he finds what he’s looking for which seem to be a card, with a name on it? He stares down at the object in his hand, distracted only by the pinging of Polinsky’s phone on the floor.

When Zemo looks down at it, you see the color drain from his face.

“Time to go.” He says grabbing your arm and you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong but he won’t listen or talk, he just moves and pulls you along with him until you’re back downstairs and going through the chaos of the casino.

When he stops, you look up at him trying to figure out what the problem is. “Are we being followed?”

He doesn’t answer, it looks like he’s waiting, or perhaps getting his timing right. You know the latter is true when he falls into step with two waitresses carrying drink trays, with you still held firm.

As they turn to go towards the bar, he goes the other way heading for the doors and the two of you are outside and practically running towards the waiting car.

“Drive” Zemo says once you’re safely inside.

As you speed off, you look over at him. The night took an unexpected turn but you made it out, doesn’t that count for something. “Didn’t you find what you were looking for?” You ask.

He doesn’t look at you, just nods and looks out the window.

You haven’t seen him like this before —wait— yes you have. “It’s all right. I’m sure everything will fall into place now.” He doesn’t say anything, and you, for the first time don’t know what to do. He reminds you very much of that silent, broken man he was eight years ago.

Giving him space, you sit back and look out your own window until you feel his hand lay over yours on the seat and you spin your head around surprised but relieved.

He holds your hand tight and raises it up, kissing your fingers before pulling you over.

“I could have killed him.” He says starring ahead angrily. He is stroking your arm gently but you know what these hands can do. “And you…”

He looks down and you see the way his anger fades, but he holds onto it long enough to say “You broke rule one.”

You laugh a little and shrug. “I knew I could get you into his room.”

“Perhaps don’t offer yourself to strange men next time?”

“You went along with it while it was working!”

“I did, but I didn’t like it.”

“Me either.” You say looking off.

Zemo hooks his finger around your chin turning your head to face him again and he slips his hand up to cradle your cheek “You, are an extraordinary woman. And I—am lucky to have you.”

You melt in his arms trying your best not to profess your true feelings and wonder what’s stopping you, but before you can let the thoughts progress, he kisses your head and raises your chin a little more to look deep into your eyes. “You will take off your dress.” He says softly and you realize he’s got a hold of your zipper with the fingers of his other hand. “You will lay down in the middle of the bed on your stomach and you will wait for me.” He whispers in your ear as he pulls the closure down to the center of your shoulder blades and stops. “Understood?”

You nod “Yes Baron.”

He does that soft, deep moan that is equal parts pleased and aroused as he looks you over, smoothing a wayward strand of hair from your face, his brows knitting together with concentration before relaxing again. “I will thrash the memory of that man from you until you remember that you belong only to me.”

#baron zemo #zemo fatws #zemo x reader #zemo x you #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo smut #anticipation #submisivegirl #strong female characters #yes sir #yes baron #jelousy #he adores you

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years ago

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 26 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; ... Chapter 25)

The Last Chapter - May 1946

Emily’s mother frittered about smoothing the creases of Emily’s dress and plucking at non-existent lint.

“Mom, mom...mother!” Emily waved her mother away. “Let it be, I’m fine,” she tried to keep her voice calm.

Her mother took a step back with her mouth pursed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Mom,” Emily raised her eyebrows in warning.

Her mother had the decency to direct her judgmental look at the floor. “It’s just,” she said in a hushed voice, “a divorcee?”

“Yes,” Emily said dryly, somehow this subject continued to come up. Emily probably wouldn’t have told her parents that Nixon was divorced if it could have been avoided. However, between the end of the war and the scramble to prepare for their future, the last year had been a whirlwind. “But let’s not forget, he was also a Captain!” That title had originally excited her parents when she first broke the news of their engagement, before they had learned the wedding had to be postponed until Nixon’s separation from Kathy was finalized.

That reminder seemed to perk Emily’s mother up slightly, “yes, a Captain. It was really quite nice of Lewis’ family to contribute as much as they did,” the compliment sounded obligatory. Emily’s mother would never truly comment on the Nixon’s wealth, it was undignified. But Emily was sure that fact somewhat amended Lewis’ disgraced martial status in her mother’s mind.

“Your father wasn’t pleased about it but you know how he can get. He wants to be the one to give you everything,” her mother continued. Emily began to tune out her mother’s ramblings. Once again she found herself wishing for more female friends so that she didn’t have to endure this time alone with her mother. Unfortunately, her cousins all had babies to attend to and had already excused themselves from the dressing room.

A knock at the door sounded and Emily felt instant relief. Finally, some sort of distraction from her nerves. She moved to open the door but her mother beat her to it. The door opened to the apprehensive face of George Luz, “uh, hi,” he said to Emily’s mother. Then his eyes landed on Emily. George let out a low whistle, “wowza, you look incredible!” he said appreciatively.

Emily blushed and smoothed her skirt, “thank you, George.”

“I got somethin’ here for ya,” George held up an envelope. He glanced at her mother for permission and her mother stepped aside to let him in. “Well,” George said, “Joe had it for ya but it was easier for me to run it over, because, well you know,” he shrugged and handed her the letter heavy with postage.

It was addressed in Marwa’s handwriting; her sweet friend had remained in Europe and was unable to make the trip to Chicago. But Emily and Nixon had made plans to meet up with her over their honeymoon

“Who’s that from, dear?” Emily’s mother asked.

“A friend, remember the nurse?” Emily responded already opening the envelope.

“Which nurse? I don’t remember a particular nurse.. oh that Arab girl?”

Emily shot George a look. “Mrs. Rooney is it?” George interrupted, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” Emily mouthed her gratitude to him as he directed her mother to the settee. George winked and held up a thumb behind her mother’s back. “You know I’ve never been to Indiana, are there many churches there? I wouldn’t want to go if there wasn’t anywhere to attend mass on Sunday,” George’s flattery faded away as Emily turned her attention to the letter.

Marwa’s beautiful calligraphy transported Emily back to the last time she saw her friend. Their goodbye had been tearful, mostly on Emily’s part. But the friends had stuck to their commitment to write. It was in a letter to Marwa that Emily first put into words Nixon’s unconventional proposal.

Nearly a year ago Emily had stood beside Nixon looking down into the breathtaking Bavarian landscape from a balcony in Hitler’s Eagles Nest.

“Lew,” she placed a cautious hand on his hip, “what’s next for you?” It was a loaded question. Deployment to the Pacific was still an option. Emily was free to return to the states when she pleased but so many things between her and Nixon remained unresolved. The past few weeks had been a dream supplemented by good food and beautiful scenery. Emily had felt hope return to her - hope that extended beyond the end of the war. She wanted to know what life would look like next year, five years from now, and beyond. The first step in preparing for the future was to find out where Nixon saw himself.

Life had returned to Nixon the past few weeks; the receding war and his submission to Emily’s love had begun to heal him. Their time in Bavaria had been a relative heaven, but a temporary heaven.

Nixon pulled his gaze away from the captivating view to look into the grey eyes that had guided him through so much. “Dick and I are going to re-deploy to the Pacific,” he said matter-of-factually. There was no sugar coating it. He and Emily had found their sweet spot of upfront honesty.  

Emily nodded as if she had expected as much, “and then?” she asked.

Nixon had hoped she would ask that. He had seen the footage coming out of the Pacific - he needed her hope to get him out alive, he needed her to have a vision of ‘after’. “Well, I’ll go back to New Jersey, marry you and I don’t know, buy a house or something,” he leaned on the balcony.

An impulsive smile spread across Emily’s face, “marry me? Di- did you just propose to me, Lewis?”

He smirked, “I suppose I did.”

Emily narrowed her eyes playfully at him, “you suppose? Do you even want to marry me?”

“People get married all the time for many different reasons, they’re lucky if it’s for love. You should understand that better than anyone,” Nixon said, “and I love you, so yeah I want to marry you.”

Emily bit her lip to keep the smile from overtaking her face, “well who say’s I want to marry you?”

“If you were smart, you’d marry me now and hope I get blown up over Tokyo. Take me for everything that I’m worth,” Nixon joked darkly.

“Lewis!” Emily smacked his arm. He chuckled. “That’s terrible,” she admonished him, “besides I’m pretty sure Kathy beat me to that.”

“Touche.”

“That is the question though…” Emily’s tone turned serious.

“Yeah,” Nixon turned back to look out onto the landscape, “are you up to waiting for me?”

“I’ve already waited years for you to come around, what’s another few?”

Luckily, they only had to wait a year. Now, Emily found herself standing at the entrance of a grand room dressed in white holding onto her fathers arm for dear life. The loss of the marital sacrament had been a blow to her parents but after a lot of tears they had accepted that their daughter was getting married in a club hall, not a church. Emily couldn’t be bothered where she got married. Planning the wedding had been exhausting and distracting from what she’d actually been interested in planning: the honeymoon. Emily had spent far too much time mediating between her mother and her future mother-in-law.

The first couple of months back in the states, Emily had been a guest at the Nixon’s many properties along the eastern seaboard. New York City had been fun, until her mother came to visit and meet her future in-laws. Though cordial, the mothers seemed to agree on very little. However, they did manage to unite in order to bully Emily into wearing the gaudy ring Lewis had bought her out of obligation.

But Emily didn’t consider that her real engagement ring - it was simply for appearances sake. The ring she would wear as his wife would be a gold band engraved with flora. Nixon and Emily had picked it up in Paris on their way home to the states. That was all Emily had wanted. It was more fitting; a simple testament to how they had grown as individual’s and in their relationship. An ornate diamond strongly juxtaposed the world in which they had fallen in love.

As the wide doors to the hall swung open, Emily’s father squeezed her hand. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. Emily looked up at him in shock but her ever stoic father was already looking straight ahead as if nothing had been said. But his words were monumental, that’s all she had ever wanted to hear from him.

The view down the aisle seemed incredibly long. The people who sat closest to the door were the people Emily knew the least; family friends from her parents church, the Nixons’ obligatory invitees. Emily’s hand grew sweaty around her bouquet as she gritted her teeth into a smile. She didn’t want any of them to see how nervous she was.

She began to relax as her father led her past the faces of her friends who sat closer to the front; her first co-workers from the O.S.S., the grinning faces of Harry Welsh, Frank Perconte and Babe Heffron. Emily’s throat closed with emotion as she passed Bill Guarnere and Joye Toye who wobbled, but leaned on each other, both determined to stand for the bride. Joe Toye smiled and nodded slightly from where he stood, “not just a work-wife,” he whispered jokingly as she passed. Emily’s giggle sounded nervous but confidence surged within her at his acknowledgement. Finally, the view of the altar was clear in Emily’s vision; she saw Dick Winters standing proudly beside Nixon. Suddenly, she felt so overwhelmed by emotion that she could hardly bring herself to look at her future husband.

George Luz was the first person to greet them at the end of the aisle. Emily focused all of her nerves on his steady smile. With a wink, he took Emily’s bouquet and made room for her mother to adjust her train. And then Emily was looking into the face of Lewis Nixon. The rest of the world melted away as he gazed into her sparkling grey eyes.

Everything that had happened to them the last couple of years had culminated into this very moment. It was in the moments without each other’s touch that they had learned to love each other; they had grown wiser with each fight, stronger with each shared moment of vulnerability, and in deprivation they craved only to give the other the world. Neither of them would have expected that they would end this way. That’s because this was by no means an ending; this was the beginning of life renewed.

Nixon took Emily’s trembling hands in his steady ones. “Finally,” he said with a smirk.

The End.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who read this story. This was my first long fanfiction story and all of your support kept me motivated and encouraged to keep writing. Love you all <3

#As Far As Friends Go #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #george luz #joe toye #dick winters #emily rooney #fanfiction #completed fanfic

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