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sxfik · 3 years ago

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you're the sunshine in the rain when it's pouring (won't you give yourself to me?)

read on ao3 • masterlist

summary: Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

a/n: hello! this is my first solhwi fic i've written and if i'm being honest, it's kind of a mess but i have so many ideas for them, especially after these last few episodes! honestly, the two of them are the epitome of idiots to lovers so i just had to write this! the title of this fic is from best part by Daniel Ceasar ft. H. E. R.

come interact or drop a request if you want to see more solhwi content :)

Kang Sol A was not afraid.

She wasn’t afraid during her yearly doctor’s appointment, the glint of the long needle threatening to pierce through her. She wasn’t afraid when she stood up for her sisters, time and time again, until she was beaten and bruised protecting them. In the face of any adversity, she was taught to stand strong and fight, no matter how big or small the enemy. Even at the face of losing her scholarship and being expelled from Hankuk Law School, she knew she could pull herself up.

No, Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

It’s been a week since Ye Seul’s trial, five days since the incident, and four days since she started avoiding Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam, Han Joon Hwi.

His presence was bearable prior to Ye Seul’s trial. Actually, more than bearable. It was a comfort, a person she knew she could let her guard down with. His teasing smiles or his love for ramen at any time of day. As her days and her mind got busier day by day, his presence was unyielding. Every late night in the library, he was by her side, explaining the codes over and over again. Even when she got frustrated, or whiny, Joon Hwi was infinitely patient with her. With Joon Hwi by her side, everything seemed so easy. She saw the light at the end of the long tunnel she was dragged through. Still, with Kang Dan’s sudden appearance, Mr. Yang and Ye Seul’s trial, her mind was too busy to think clearly. To see clearly.

But when his gaze shifted to her and her roommate when he stood as a witness during Ye-Seul’s trial, her breath caught in her throat as she imagined, just for a moment, that he was going to say her name. That he was looking at her. That he was in love with her.

It was as if something clicked, like the puzzle pieces coming together in her mind. In an instant, she saw him in such clarity, every action, every smile and gesture passing through her mind. Cliche as it seems, it was as if she saw him for the first time all over again.

But of course, that gaze was not meant for her. Why would it be? Han Joon Hwi was meant to be with Sol B, not her. The students who were born to work with the law are perfectly suited for each other. It was obvious that he wanted to protect Sol B. Yet, in her weakest moment, her heart yearned for it to be her.

Forcing herself to breathe, she continued on after the trial as if nothing had changed between them. Because, well, they haven’t. The view had shifted but only for her. At first, it was easier than she expected, teasing him about her roommate. Sol would be lying if she said it didn’t come with a twinge of jealousy but what could she do, but continue to be loyal to him. So on she continued, with Joon Hwi blissfully unaware that she was falling deeper for him, day by day.

Of course, nothing ever goes her way. Five nights ago, Sol was seated at her usual desk at the library, the rows of desks unoccupied. It was another late night for her, as she poured over her case files for a quiz the next day. Despite being a breeze for the other students, Sol had to study for a 110% in order to score an 80%. Sol set up camp in the library, her texts haphazardly strewed across the desk, highlighter in hand, as she buckled down for a long night of studying.

As the hours passed, her vision slowly blurred, the words on the page meshing together into a blob of black squiggles. She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus but to no avail. Sighing, she shut her eyes as she slumped back into her chair, allowing her head to loll off the edge of her chair and stretching her arms out.

“Still studying?” Joon Hwi’s familiar voice startled her, her head jerking back and almost tipping her chair backwards. “Whoa, Sol, be careful!” he lunged, catching her chair before she had the chance to stabilize herself.

“Yah, Han Joon Hwi, why would you come up suddenly like that?” Sol wrinkled her nose at him in annoyance, getting a teasing smirk in response. Sol turned towards her desk, pulling herself closer to the desk as he looked over her.

“Are you studying for Professor Jung’s quiz tomorrow?” he questioned, his head tilting in a familiar way as she sighed once more.

“Of course I am. Not all of us are law geniuses like you, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam,” Sol huffed as she looked up at him but she softened her face as she saw the smile on his face.

Joon Hwi let out a small laugh as he stepped closer to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Well, then I’d be more than qualified to help, don’t you think, sunbae?” he quipped back.

“Hey, I can do it myse-”

“Hm, let me see,” he cut her off, his eyebrows furrowed. Her heart stuttered as he leaned forward, over her shoulder, looking onto the texts that lay in front of her. “Oh, this one isn’t as bad as the others, you should start with this and then…” he rambled on, but every once of her concentration was on his proximity. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder bleed through her shirt, the feel of his palm burning her skin. He was close enough that she could hear the soft puffs of his breath, his warmth radiating off his body pulling her body towards him like a magnet.

It’s okay, just breathe. You know how to breathe right, Sol? She slowly instructed herself on how to breathe like she suddenly had to learn all over again. And wow, was that a bad idea. His cologne is even more intoxicating up close, and so is Joon Hwi. Every one of her senses was overloaded, her mind blank save for him.

“Yah, Kang Sol? You better be paying atten-” he turned his head towards her, and she forgot how to breathe all over again. His brown eyes widened in surprise as his face just centimeters away from hers. Sol parted her lips ever so slightly to speak but his gaze dropped her lips and her mind was blank again as she blinked at him. His features were so much softer up close, as she watched his face relax. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheek as he blinked. His eyes flitted back to her, but his familiar honey eyes darkened. Her eyes drifted over his face, and then dipped down to his soft lips. If she just moved closer, she could feel how soft his lips were...

And suddenly, reality slapped her in the face. What would Sol B think if she caught her boyfriend so close to her? Even with her roommate’s cold behavior, Sol knew just how much she suffered and how much it would break her to know how she felt about Joon Hwi. Despite every molecule in her body begging her to move closer, she couldn’t do that to Sol B.

So she moved away, stuttering out some lame excuse as she gathered her books and stumbled out of the library. But as she lay in her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as she imagined all that could have happened between them, the warmth of the memory spread across her body.

And Kang Sol A knew that she wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified.

When she couldn’t stand and fight, she did the next best thing. She ran. She intricately planned everyday to minimize her contact with him as much as possible. Obviously, step one was to sit away from him in class, to avoid his gaze in the halls. She would leave her dorm as early as possible and hide until he was finished with his dinner to sneak in and grab herself something.

But it wasn’t until she tried to avoid him that she realized just how much space in her life was occupied by him. He used to always sit next to or across from her. Always looking over her shoulder, or leaning over to see the textbooks clearly. Every time she turned to ask a question, or make a snarky comment, there was an empty space reminding her of her decision.

Still, even if he wasn’t physically present, he occupied a corner in her mind. His voice was in her head, echoing responses to her every thought. Her mind would fill with things she wanted to rant about, to ask, to share with him. When she closes her eyes at night and drifts into sleep, he would be there, his signature teasing smile on his face.

And he didn’t seem to be making it any easier on her. It seemed that Joon Hwi took it upon himself to magically appear whenever she least expected him to. If she went to the copy room to print a case file, he was sitting there, looking through a stack of papers or in line to print a copy himself. If she decides to have a late night study session, there he is across from her, books in hand with his legs propped up on a table.

Han Joon Hwi was the constant, unavoidable presence that she can’t seem to get rid of from her life. From her mind. From her heart.

“Unnie?” a soft voice snapped Kang Sol out of her thoughts, and Ye Seul appeared in front of her, near the entrance. How long have I stood here? Sol blinked.

“Ah, Ye-Seul,” she smiled at her best friend. “Let’s have some coffee today? At the cafe?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing after flitting up to where Joon Hwi and Kang Sol B stood. Well, where they were standing. I guess they left. Ye Seul’s eyebrows furrowed as she followed Sol’s gaze but before she could respond, Sol A hooked an elbow through hers, dragging her toward the cafe.

But of course, nothing ever goes her way.

“Ah, Ye-Seul, can I borrow Kang Sol for a moment?” Joon Hwi asked, suddenly appearing in their path, his eyes strictly focused on her best friend. Sol squeezed her arm in alarm, everything in her body pleading for Ye-Seul to say no so she can just avoid him until her crush fades away.

“Unnie, buy me the coffee next time, hm?” Ye-Seul turned to her with an apologetic gaze. Betrayal. I’ll get you back for this. Sol A sighed as she turned her gaze to Joon Hwi.

“Yah, Sol, why are you avoiding me like this? Please, just talk to me so we can fix it,” he pleaded with her, wasting no time to get to the point. Sol A pursed her lips as she looked up at him, her mind too full for her to answer him. What could she say to him? That she likes him? That she’s found out how much she needs him in her life, but she was too late?

“Sol, please,” his voice broke slightly as the silence stretched between them but that was enough for her to sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she gave in to him.

“Okay,” she responded and that was all Joon Hwi needed to grab her wrist and walk towards the corridor between the stairwells.

“We can talk more privately,” he answered her before she even voiced the question. “Now, why are you mad at me? The last time I saw you was at the library and then you disappeared,” Joon hwi ran a hand through his hair nervously as he rambled on and for the first time, Kang Sol took him in. To say he was disheveled was an understatement. The usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen and his clothes were askew as his face showed the lack of sleep and exhaustion. Her heart clenched for him, but no, you can’t do this. You can’t betray Sol B.

“Don’t you think it’s best if we don’t interact with how we used to?” she asked, her eyes glued to the floor, ignoring her throat closing up at the thought of breaking their friendship.

“What?” his eyes zeroed in on her, and she could see the confusion running through his mind.

“What do you think Sol B would think if she saw us like this? We can’t be close like this with each other bec-”

“Who cares about how I am with you?” he cut her off, his jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrow in frustration.

“Ya Han Joon Hwi, how could you do this? I expected so much better from you. Don’t you understand, it’s terrible to do this to her!” she pleaded with him, her heart squeezing inside her chest. Sol clenched her jaw, willing herself to be strong for her roommate’s sake, for his sake, and for hers.

Silence stretched between them as she looked up to him. His eyes closed for a moment while he looked down to the floor. And then his eyes flitted up and into her eyes as his fist clenched, his brown eyes filling with an unreadable emotion. “Why is it so terrible?” he whispered.

“Why-” Sol started, her voice burning in anger and pain.

“Why is it so terrible that I’m in love with you?” Joon hwi’s eyes flickered up to hers, his gaze boring into her.

Kang Sol blinked. Her back straightened as her mouth opened and closed like a fish, as Joon Hwi took a step closer. “Me?” she stuttered out, her mind spinning, unable to process his words.

“You.” He stepped closer.

“But you like Kang Sol-”

“A. Kang Sol A.” Another step closer.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and to ignore his proximity. But all her attempts were futile as Joon Hwi brought his hand up, his touch feather light as he cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Sol’s hands felt frozen as her breath lodged into her throat, her eyes meeting his. She could hear her heart thundering in her ribcage as Joon hwi spoke.

“I like you, Kang Sol. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his voice wavering as he grew closer, his lips just a centimeter away from hers. Never one with patience, she surged forward to meet his lips. Her imagination and dreams did not compare to how his lips felt against hers. It was soft and his kisses were just as unyielding as his presence. It was all consuming as her hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer. His thumb running across her cheekbones, he shifted his head pulling her in deeper as his hands cupped her face. Even though their lips just met for a few moments, it felt as though his soft lips were against hers for an eternity.

Sol’s eyes were still closed as they parted, not wishing to leave this moment and back into real life. Apprehensively, she met his eyes and a moment of silence stretched between them, as they caught their breath. A million watt smile stretched across his face, his contagious happiness brightening her up as she smiled back. But suddenly reality caught up to her.

“Wait, so you’re not with my roommate?” she questioned, confused about everything she had seen between them. Joon hwi shook his head.

“No, I was just with her because she asked for help during one of her legal research papers,” he explained, then paused. “Yah, wait. You avoided me this whole time because you thought I was in love with Kang Sol B?” a smirk spread across his face, his expression taunting. Sol bit her lip as she looked down, unwilling to admit her mistake.

“Yah, how can you be at law school and not figure out I liked you!” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“You were so ambiguous! Every time I thought you liked me as more than friends, you’d act close with Sol B!” she huffed out, pouting and pulling away from him, embarrassed that she thought he liked her roommate. Before she could pull away, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a crushing hug. Her body relaxed as she took him in, the way he felt against her intoxicating and comforting beyond description.

Kang Sol A was terrified. But having him at her side was enough to know that she could fight once more, together, as more than friends.

#mine #my writing #solhwi #solhwi fanfiction #idiots to lovers #han joon hwi #kang sol A #kang sol B #ryu hye young #kim bum #kim beom #law school jtbc #jtbc law school #law school netflix #kdrama #law school kdrama

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sofuckingdarling-blog-blog · 4 years ago

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Erwin, Levi and Tea part 2 of 2.

So he told himself safe things, like that his admiration for Levi was perfectly reasonable, after all everyone admired Levi, even people who didn't much like the man admired him. His yearning for closeness was just a result of that admiration. But Erwin knew better and a part of him had known that he was drawn to Levi in a more passionate way then admiration would dictate, that he had felt something there that was strong and unyielding since he first set eyes on the way Levi flew. But Erwin tried his best to be careful during tea time, he focused on moderating himself, perfected the timing of his stares. Sometimes though, he felt himself to transparent, a gaze lingered to long an accidental touch that caused a bright red flush to become obvious on his pale cheekbones, but each time he thought he may have outed himself. Levi was as unaffected as ever and Erwin could internally sigh with relief.

Erwin was always the one to approach Levi and that didn't change until Levi lost Petra and Farlan. He remembers clearly the urgent knock at his door and the shock he felt seeing the smaller man's eyes bloodshot and rimmed red looking frantically around , trying to avoid looking at Erwin altogether As if somehow looking at him would hurt. Erwin just opened his door and offered to brew Levi some tea, his brewing skills had gotten better thanks to Levi's detailed and somewhat impatient instruction. Levi nodded still refusing to look at him and he left his office and came back with two cups and pot of chamomile tea, hoping it would help soothe Levi's nerves. The night was long ,countless cups of tea were drained and Erwin sat at his desk mindlessly going over the same pieces of paperwork, thoughts focused solely on the man in front of him. It seemed odd that hours earlier this same man held a blade to Erwin, furious and half in shock with grief, needing an outlet. Levi had lashed out .

Erwin was actually happy to be the recipient of that violent grief stricken action, it gave him a chance to let his comrade know the depth of his importance in the fight for humanity, it allowed him to express to the Levi that holding on to regret would only hurt him and the people depending on him. He was able to tell him with sincerity that they would push forward together and make sure that the death of his loved ones has meaning. He did his best to give Levi clarity and a solid goal while he was floundering in his grief. That this incredibly powerful man listened to Erwin's words through his pain set his soul alight. it was shaky, new and hard won, but Erwin knew that a certain amount of Levi's trust had been given to him in that moment.

Still as they sat facing each other mugs of tea in had Erwin was afraid to make a wrong step, to somehow damage his hurting comrades trust before they had a chance to build on it. He felt at a loss, his heart and guts felt tight and twisted up. Erwin knew to well that there was nothing anyone could say that would really help ease the pain. So Erwin was quiet, and as with most things in their slow blooming relationship, He let Levi take the lead. He remembers hoping that night that the warmth from the chamomile was comforting to Levi that somehow the familiarity of their interaction would help ease the frantic mans tension. At that moment Erwin wished he could infuse the tea with every warm thought he held for the man in front of him. He knew it was a stupid silly vain thing to wish for but the twisting in his gut relaxed at thought.

It was as though his body was calling out for him to comfort the grief stricken Levi. But he knew that they were not at such an intimate level and the knowledge was bitter in his throat, it pricked at the corners of his eyes and he had to compose himself subtly before looking back at the narrow steel grey eyes. His eyes seemed less frantic and more resigned underneath the delicate furrowed brows, and Erwin's stomach clenched at the thought of the turmoil Levi was experiencing. Erwin knew that Levi's heart was more tender then his in dealing with this sort of loss, not that Levi was in any way weaker because of it, just newer to the Corps and with a heart more decent then Erwin, Levi's heart to Erwin was a very clear indicator of strength, because despite all he had experienced it was still so full of the capacity to love. lost in these thoughts Erwin almost missed it when Levi said "Farlan, Isabel and I, we were saving up to go to the surface, you know? We were going to be filthy rich, the sort of rich where we wouldn't even have to wipe our own asses if we didn't want to." his fingers traced the outlines on a fancy tin of tea. "It seems stupid now, I'm sure it sounds stupid, but It wasn't about being rich, it was about comfort, if we could fantasize about a life that we didn't have to struggle through everyday just to be constantly shit on it was easier to wake up in the mornings."

Erwin blinked, shocked at the unprompted confession, in awe over the heart wrenching honesty. his heart pounding in his chest. Erwin hadn't known about the specific aspects of their plans to get to the surface, he knew the surface was the end goal of getting the bounty on Erwin but he didn't know the details. They came as a bit of a surprise to Erwin, but the comfort aspect made complete sense to him, having to live everyday struggling to survive carrying around the burden of a growling stomach would be hard without a fantasy to sustain you. That they fantasized about wealth was unsurprising. Full stomachs everyday, safe comfortable places to sleep, the ability to indulge in the things that made them happy. No longer being powerless.

Levi continued fingers still tracing the fancy lettering on the tin of luxury tea face resolutely pointed downwards "I wanted to tell you thank you though, for the tea, I don't actually care about being wealthy like the pigs in Sina but I didn't think someone like me would get the chance to look at some shit like this, and here I am drinking it almost every week, i mean shit its unbelievable, Isabel and Farlan were impressed, they didn't really like the tea very much but I'd bring some over to their ungrateful asses anyway, they were happy for me that I got to drink fancy ass tea. They were good people like that." Levi's laugh is hollow "Thanks Erwin" he gets up suddenly and walks to the door.

"We can drink tea whenever Levi" Erwin blurts out and before he can stop himself "Whatever tea you want, any sort of tea in all of Sina in all of the walls" and Erwin feels absolutely ridiculous and disgustingly bare under Levi's steady gaze. but to his massive surprise and relief the smaller mans lip curls up so slightly it would be easy to miss and Erwin probably would have missed it had he not spent so much time studying Levi's expressions. "Sure Erwin, whatever old man don't have a stroke" he closes the door behind him with a thud.

Erwin is left with his thoughts and the rising sun, he feels stuck to the spot behind his desk. His ears are red and he thinks about how Levi and his friends had dreamed of luxury, his friends are no longer around but Erwin is grateful that for the duration of their time with the Survey Corp they had full bellies and warm safe beds and even according the Levi got to try some of the luxury tea's that Erwin had bought. Erwin had no idea how Levi managed to sneak them out without him knowing but he suspects a lock picking kit and graceful, nimble, fingers that are all to familiar from Erwin's observation of them griping a tea cup by the rim or tracing over beautifully decorated packages. One day Erwin thinks he will manage to pluck up the courage to ask Levi why he holds his cup in such an odd way. Erwin shakes his head free from his frivolous thoughts, thoughts that are caught up in Levi completely.

Erwin knows that its selfish but he is so happy that Levi is still here living, breathing, and with him in the Survey Corp. He wasn't lying when he said that humanity needed Levi's strength, but Erwin knows that isn't the only reason he wants Levi around. He decides then that life really is to short, especially for them. In the short time they have left, since being in the Scouts is like living on borrowed time, Erwin wants to be the one that indulges Levi, he realizes this like a smack to his face stinging, bright and obvious. He wants to be the one that exposes Levi to every luxury possible given his budget. He may not be wealthy like the nobles in Sina but he has a fair amount of money, he is well connected, motivated and talented in scheming.

So when Levi comes to him a day after his night spent grieving in Erwin's room, Erwin is relieved. He let out a breath he had been holding since he stupidly let words naked with the desire of Levi's company spill from his mouth. Levi asks him if he's ever heard of tea that blooms when its brewed and Erwin smiles. He tells Levi he actually know where to get some, and Levi looks up at him through his fringe which looks like it needs a cut soon and says "Great lets get some of that shit" and Erwin's entire frame feels electric. He follows the request up by asking Erwin if he would be wiling to brew some tea in an hour or so, after dinner, and Erwin is sure his body is made of something capable of creating sparks.

He feels the desire to shower Levi in good things as something sharp and warm, almost possessive almost jealous. It's the part of him that guards his observations of Levi and each cup of tea he drinks with a feverish tenacity. That feels pleasure curl as deep as his bone marrow each time Levi requests a specific blend of tea, or lets out an obviously pleased sigh after sipping from his cup. That Levi had ever had the desire for luxury is a blessing for Erwin who delights in every good thing he can give the small man. Erwin who is awestruck by the wonder that colors Levi's expressions at things he never thought he would see or experience underground. He wants to keep those expressions to himself because there is something so fragile and breakable in those expressions of contentment, pleasure, excitement, wonder and awe that he has to fight back his instincts to protect and remind himself to enjoy the time he has with this incredible person. Erwin is no longer a frugal man, as Levi has unleased every indulgent part of him.

#eruri #eruri feels #levi/erwin #erwin/levi #erwin smith #erwin danchou #levi heichou #levi ackerman #aot #aot imagines #aot headcanons #snk #Levi/Tea

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honeytea8 · 4 years ago

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“With you, forever” - Guido Mista/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Greek AU and the first thing that popped in my head was Mista’s hat, since it kinda looks like a Trojan warrior’s helmet, so that’s where this came from!

Word Count: 1.6K (becuz why not)

Ares!Mista and Milkmaid!Reader insert for you :)

Not once had Mista ever been jealous of Apollo. Not once, until the moment it dawned on him that you—the very object of his affections—spent many of your days under the sun’s watchful eye.

The warm coloring of your skin was proof of this, as you shepherded the sheep and tended to your father’s cattle. Even as sweat licked at your forehead and the fine little hairs on your nape and hairline stuck to your skin. To Mista, you were an oasis to a thirsty, dying man. The healing balm to tortured souls and the one who had seized his ravaged heart.

You were an unassuming young milkmaid, with skin smoother than wax and hair softer than cotton. Every time he caught a glimpse of your flawless skin, his throat grew parched and the thoughts buzzing in his head came to a screeching halt. You, the beauty of your hometown, stood second to none in his book.

Being the god of war that he was, one thing Mista greatly admired was your devotion and hardworking nature. This truth was punctuated by the sturdiness of your limbs; the sinew and muscle of your thighs alone could bring a lesser man to his knees. You filled him with desire but Mista didn’t push or prod, content with simply watching you and pining from afar.

When he overheard your father’s talk of marriage, it was then Mista determined in his heart that idleness would do him no good. Somehow, he must have you by his side forever.

He was Ares, a trojan warrior battle-bred and destined to be a hero. This simple endeavor should be easy enough. There wasn’t an inkling of doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t be able to win your love. With a single goal in his heart, he took a leap off his lofty throne beyond the clouds.

Mista found purchase near a well, the only well in the entire village. He had memorized your routes by now, so when the sun shifted a few centimeters to the left, he knew you would begin your trek up this specific hillside. You would carry with you a wooden pail, like you always did, but this time, he would be there to ask for a drink. You would grant it, he’d confess, and then whisk you away from this land to one far greater.

This was what he thought, however, reality was quite different from fantasy.

When Mista had asked for a sip of your water, your pouty lips screwed into a frown; with pinched brows you questioned, “What kind of a traveler leaves home without a waterskin?”

The sound of your voice had him floundering for a moment. Not only because it was the first time his ears were blessed to hear it, but also because it was so soft and sweet, despite the harshness of your tone.

How foolish he must appear now? His suave bravado completely dissipated at your words. But mercifully, you still scooped your little dipper into the pail and offered him a drink anyway.

Mista grinned boyishly, “You have refreshed me, amore. I owe you my life.”

“Keep it.” you huffed while turning on your heels. “Don’t need it.”

In that split second when your gaze left him, your eyes showed a fire he had never seen in you before, one that burned brighter than the embers of Hephaestus. If he didn’t love you before, he was positive he did now.

Mista gave chase, keen on following you even to ends of the earth.

“My name is Mista, god of war. You may have heard of me? Ares? The Olympian?”

You said nothing to indicate that you’d even heard his boasting.

“May you grant me the name of my savior, at least?”

“Nope.”

He blinked slowly, “Then...will you marry me?”

At his words, you paused for only half a second, “Are you mad?”

“For you? Possibly.”

Again, reality was quite far from fantasy but Mista wouldn’t complain about the fickle inner workings of fate. He would have your heart eventually, it was really as simple as that.

But by the day’s end, you had rejected him countlessly.

“You need a different approach.”

Apollo, or Giorno rather, greeted him with a knowing smile on his lips. Mista slumped further in his throne, shaken but not defeated.

“Of course you saw the entire thing.”

Was there such a place on earth Giorno’s scrutiny did not reach?

“It’s in the job description, amico.”

Giorno took a seat upon a cloud beside him. The two gods remained silent, watching you as you went about your evening. Mista had been watching you more intently since you spurned his advances. It was a stinging blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be much of a warrior if he quit. No, he would surely see this through to the end.

“A different approach,” Mista murmured. “Like how?”

“Hmm, well, have you tried showing your intentions rather than howling it into the high heavens?”

Mista scratched his neck sheepishly. “That bad, eh?”

“Indeed, our dear brother would’ve come to slay you himself had I not managed to intervene.” Giorno’s warm grin spread into something a bit more teasing, a part of himself he only liked to show Mista.

The warrior god laughed, “I can handle Abbacchio’s temper, god of wine that he is. Dionysos hasn’t seen battle in over a thousand years, he could never slay the great Ares.”

“Be that as it may, it would do you well to let your actions speak louder than your words in this case. That mortal is different; your journey will only be as difficult as you make it, do not neglect the beauty of surrender.”

Mista hummed in thought, sobering up a bit at his brother’s prophetic words. Giorno was right—not that he’d ever doubted! Mista wondered in what ways he could best show you that his intentions were true. What would it take to get you to accept him?

“Ever the wise one, Giorno?”

“Again, brother, it’s in the job description.”

Mista was a brute—a force of nature on the battlefield, and the absolute manifestation of chaos, destruction, and violence. He had killed countless men in times of war, using his body like an ax to cut down every foe. He was no strategist like Fugo or mischievously clever like Narancia. He could not think his way through this. Mista could only follow his instincts.

For the next several months, he devoted himself to your cause.

When you arose at dawn to feed the chickens, he was there to help. When you hand-washed your linens in a river downstream, Mista was there with his robes hiked up, ready to assist. Whenever you drew out your hoe to till the land, whether for plowing or for harvesting, he followed suit.

Did the sheep’s wool need to be taken for the winter? Did the meat need to be salted and preserved? Were the cows properly milked so they wouldn’t moo all day and night? Whatever it was that you required, Mista was there to serve. He’d even stayed with you when your father fell ill, procuring herbs for his tea and medication.

Until then, you hadn’t warmed up to him at all. You would glare and make snarky remarks to get him to leave you alone. Sometimes even ignoring him completely. But after seeing him dirty and bruised from scaling a mountaintop just to obtain a rare healing herb for your father. Well, after that, you couldn’t quite remain unaffected by his charm.

Soon, you realized there was more to this strange god than what the eyes could see. His humor, his confidence, his quirks and antics. (Honestly, who in their right mind numbered their weapons while skipping every number with four in it?)

You were surprised that he hadn’t mentioned marriage again after that first day. Of course you knew it was what he ultimately wanted, but he’d left it alone until you were comfortable.

Meanwhile, Mista had given himself over to you as a friend and much needed companion. He listened to you bare your soul with rapt attention, clinging to every word that fell from your lips. The many talks you both had well into the night were some of the most interesting and indulgent you’d ever had. You had never felt this way with anyone; it was the kind of happiness that made colors brighter and food taste better!

After much consideration, you finally agreed to take Mista as your love, though it wasn’t easy. You still couldn’t reconcile the yearning you had for him with your duties here on earth.

One evening, as you both sat out in the yard, you broke down and cried. He had floundered, again, but regained himself enough to move closer and lend you his shoulder. Please don’t cry, my love, is what he wanted to say but the lump in his throat was unyielding. What could bring you to tears like this? He hoped it wasn’t his doing.

“Mista,” you said, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t think I can leave with you…”

Ah, now he understood.

This was your life after all, and Mista had foolishly thought he could snatch you away from everything you knew. That he had been doing you a favor by wanting to take you to a place he thought was better than this.

It was true he wanted to remain by your side, but not unless he would get to see your smile or that wicked fire in your eyes.

The god looked down at the calluses riddling his palms, the various cuts and scars each had a story to tell. They were innumerable. These were the very hands he wanted to hold you with. In this battle against his heart and mind, who would win?

Mista shifted closer to you, drawing an arm around the slope of your shoulder.

“Okay.” he said quietly. “So, what if I decided to stay here with you, forever?”

#jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #mista x reader #greek au #my writing #vento aureo #jjba #guido mista #guido mista x reader #jjba x reader

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

In Hushed Whispers | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+/Explicit/NSFW

Word Count: 5k

Summary: It started out as a mission, as a wicked game–and then things spiralled out of your control. With a past shrouded in darkness and a need to protect him, will you be strong enough to step into the light?

A/N: I’ve been daydreaming about a Black Swan!MC concept for so long and finally found the willpower write something for it. This was was supposed to be a lot cooler and hateful, but I’m not cool and it’s Victor XD MC’s a producer, but that’s more of a cover, or a surface job.

the title is a quest from DA: Inquisition! I don’t own it, or any of the characters from Mr Love: Queen’s Choice.

(warnings/tags below the cut)

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, explicit language (mild), Black Swan!Reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, semi?-public sex, the answer is yes, goodbye black swan cuz that D is too good, too much talking (imo) during sex, slight spoilers for chapters 12-13? (and onwards)

It's clear enough to those look closely.

There was an undercurrent of tension in your interactions, in every traded look, in the eyes that tracked each other through the crowds around them. You can see the inquisitive looks they shoot your way, curious and envious, and you can't control the slight quirk of your lips.

You know what they’re probably thinking. They’re not wrong, but they aren’t quite right.

Even as you mingle with the crowd, greeting the elite of Loveland City with a bashful smile fixed in place, you can feel his gaze boring into the back of your head. For someone with such an impeccable poker face, he really isn't all that subtle.

'Or maybe it's just me.'

You barely stifle a grin at the thought, brushing back soft curls before glancing back over your shoulder once more. He stands there, just barely keeping up with the conversation taking place around him, his eyes smoky with discomfort and temper. A sly smile from you prompts him to finally tear his gaze away, and you turn back to the elder couple who had stopped you for a chat. They’ve been watching you watch him curiously, but they only smile knowingly when you give them your full attention.

"Father always spoke very highly of you, Mrs Waldorf," you recall fondly, the wistful twist of your mouth genuine. "He also said Mr Waldorf was quite lucky you found his attempts at poetry endearing."

"That brat was the one who helped me with them!" The mock offence in the elderly man’s tone had all three of you chuckling. You feel the weight of his gaze on you once more, and a flicker of wicked thrill unfurls in you. This conversation, with people who had so clearly been fond of your late father, isn't a forced one, and your smile is far from strained as you excuse yourself from it.

Your dress, sleek and sequined, sways around your legs as you work the room, avoiding people you're not quite in the mood to interact with, and him. It's not as if that you're afraid to face him, because that would be ridiculous; it's just that the thought of looking into those eyes would require acknowledging everything reflected in them.

Victor has never been one to shy away from confrontations, though, and although you have been expecting it with anticipation bubbling in your throat, your confident stride still falters when he steps into your path.

There’s a clear pause, a slight shift in the air between you as you drink in the sight of him up close. The strong lines of his well-built shoulders, enhanced by his perfectly tailored suit, the all too familiar patrician features set in smooth lines; the tie you had picked out for him yourself.

You hadn’t quite expected the way your breath catches in your throat.

"May I have this dance?" The deep timbre of his voice dissolves any protests you could muster up. You can’t say no, not without raising brows all around the room. You take his proffered hand with a faint smile, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor, all too aware of the people watching you.

There are mostly couples dancing here, you note, trying to keep your mind off the warmth of his hand as it settles on your waist, guiding you into a simple waltz. He's closer than is polite, familiarity and ease clear in his body language.

"Don't you think people might get the wrong idea?" you whisper, glancing up at him as he looks around, seeming to finally notice the others twirling and twisting across the marble.

Victor’s tightening grip on your waist is answer enough. The cut-outs on the waistline of your dress don't seem as cute now, with his thumb stroking your soft skin instinctively.

"You're being reckless." You don't keep the sharpness out of your voice as a frisson of unease begins to build in your chest. If anything, you'd thought he would do the smart thing and do his best to avoid you tonight.

"I didn't think I'd see you here tonight," Victor finally says, his expression clear and eyes glinting with danger.

"Anna couldn't make it." You shrug lightly; it's true enough, as the older woman had called you with sighed apologies and a lot of crying in the background. One of her kids was sick, and her wife was caught up with other work. "Why, aren't you happy to see me?"

His mouth purses at the feigned hurt in your voice, and he tugs you closer. You ignore the thrilled shivers racing up your spine as he leans in.

"Let me rephrase–I didn't think I'd see you ever again."

Your lips curl into something that almost resembles a smile. "Careful, there. It almost sounds like you didn't want to see me again," you tease, smirking at the way he pulls back to glower at you.

"So you are capable of logical reasoning. And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," you agree. You fall into an easy sort of synchronization, spinning around the floor with effortless grace. This isn’t your first time dancing with him, but it still makes your heart thrum with delight. "It's your own fault. You make it so hard to stay away."

He doesn't roll his eyes the way you know he wants to, his hand flexing around yours the only hint of his agitation, and your eyes dance wickedly at it. If you'd been alone, you have no doubt he would have you pinned against a wall by now.

"Your actions say otherwise," he mutters, drawing you away from the filthy route your mind had taken. "You just-" He cuts himself off, clearly unwilling to say more. But you know what he would have said, and you're irritated by the way your heart lurches painfully in your chest.

"I thought you needed time to process everything," you murmur, taking in the way his shoulders tense further. "To think things through." All the lies, manipulations and secrets. You remember his expression clearly, and how quiet he'd gone that night. Really, it’s a wonder he’s even speaking to you.

"There's nothing to think about. I've already declined the offer," Victor informs you frostily. You make sure to knit your brows at his words, forcing your lips into a strained smile. It's a nice touch, you think.

"It's an open one, there’s no expiration date. We're quite generous, don't you think?" You wonder if the words sound as bitter as they taste in your tongue. Generous is not the word you would use to describe yourself or your 'friends.' While it’s true that they’re reluctant to kill him because of his EVOL and influence, the option isn’t completely off the table, much to your personal displeasure.

"Quite generous. I'm afraid it's still a waste of your time, though. I won't be changing my mind." The firmness in his tone leaves little room for doubt, and you know he means it. But the people you work for haven't spent hours in his company, studying him, touching him, working with him, shivering at the things he whispered in their ears. They don't know how infuriatingly stubborn he is, and how deeply you admire him for it.

But what crawls from your heart and into your veins isn’t admiration, and it’s on that note that you decide you’ve put on enough of a show.

You slip your palm from his grip, stepping away from him as the progressively lighter notes of the song fade and your dance comes to an end. "Well, then, I think we're done here for now. I'll see you around, Mr CEO." Your smile feels syrupy in how sickeningly sweet it is, contrasting greatly with the yearning that twists your insides, demanding that you do whatever it takes to feel his touch once more.

With a quick wink, you spin on your heel and walk away, grabbing a flute of sparkling champagne off a passing waiter as you go.

‘That should be good enough to keep them off my back.’

You wait until you've exited the ballroom to drain the glass completely, leaving it on a table outside. You don’t think, sweeping past random corners until you're in a deserted hallway, the sound of your heart thumping madly blocking out most sounds, even of your heels clicking against the marble floor sharply.

Still, you hear the heavy footsteps as they grow closer, echoing in the empty halls. You're not surprised when a hand seizes your wrist, jerking you around to face the perpetrator. You glare at Victor even through the elated satisfaction coursing through you.

"We're not done." You should be more discomfited by his fury; instead, as it often does in his presence, a certain kind of hunger pools in your belly. His grip is unyielding, his determination even more so.

It makes you want to purr.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have more to say?" you ask casually, eyes wide and breath hitching when he squeezes your wrist tighter. His steps closer in response, moving into your space and prompting you to back up until your back hits the wall. Your senses are overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, his warm breath tinged with alcohol, growing heavier as he struggles with his words. The space between you is negligible and all the confidence you'd adorned yourself with before coming here seems to have fallen somewhere.

“A thing or two, yeah.”

Victor tugs at your wrist, pulling it up to press it into the wall above your head, his touch gentler as his thumb rubs the skin over your racing pulse. He takes your other hand in his free one, pressing his lips to your wrist as you watch, skin tingling pleasantly. He pushes it to join its captive counterpart, pressing them into the wall with one hand while the other comes to rest on your hip.

"For someone so prone to running, you seem to be doing rather well in this position," Victor murmurs, lips hovering over your ear as you try to maintain control over your expression. He has you trapped, and you've never felt more on edge and desperately turned on.

"You make an enticing captor." He's got you, but you could get out of this position if you really tried. That makes you think he's not really trying. Does he have more questions? You can't think of any you would want to answer here, where anybody could stumble across you, which begs the question: what does he want?

Victor's lips press into the skin behind your ear and your stomach tenses.

"That didn't stop you the last time." He traces the shell of your ear with the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing your temple as he inhales deeply. “You vanished into thin air.”

"For someone who doesn't want anything to do with us, you sure seem to be complaining about being left alone a lot," you taunt. But you deflate when he doesn't rise to the bait, only pulling back slightly to observe you. You’re close enough to count every single one of his thick lashes, to see the tiny mole on his right earlobe. There is none of the hate you've been expecting, not a hint of the fury you'd glimpsed earlier. It leaves you scrambling because you don't know what to expect now.

"I don't want anything to do with them," he agrees, pressing his forehead to yours. Something in your chest trembles at the action and you feel so raw, so vulnerable, you don’t know what to do with it. "I never said anything about you."

"I-if you refuse them, you refuse me." His lips brush yours and you realize he doesn't have to use force to keep you here after all. "We're kind of a package deal."

"Are you?" Uncertainty sprouts in your mind at the way he smirks, as if your words amused him. "It didn't seem like it when we were together."

You can't bring yourself to respond; you begin to struggle against his grip, but he pushes his hips into yours, pinning you in place. He’s too close, and it’s messing with your head. It would be so easy to just give in, to sink into him and let him in. You want it so badly it frightens you.

"In fact, it almost seemed like you were happy to forget all about them. Isn't that why you never even attempted to convince me to join them?"

Them, them, them. But he was right. You had known, within a few weeks of your acquaintance, that Victor would never join Black Swan. You had convinced yourself that growing closer to him was the smart thing to do. It was the classic seduction. He's stubborn, but he's loyal.

It's just that once you got a taste of it, you wanted to keep that loyalty for yourself and not share it with anybody else, least of all your charming colleagues. Your greed had won out over everything; with every meal he cooked you, with every scathing word followed by encouragement, with every warm kissed pressed to your fingertips and the arches of your feet–you were in too deep, and you still are, and you’re still fucked.

It had been a happy dream while it lasted, but you had to come back to reality eventually. Could you really give everything up for this man?

The answer scares you, it’s implications terrifying and Artemis was right, you are an idiot.

"Do you understand now?" he whispers, lips dragging along the length of your jaw, your eyelids fluttering at the way he nips at your skin.

"I do." It tastes like defeat, like something broke and you're choking on the pieces, but you get it out. For him, you’ll swallow every bitter piece. It's not the pleasant realization they write about in books. "I'll...I'll let them know your answer won't be changing."

He pauses. "And?"

"And I'll stay away. I won't bother you again." The words are said so quietly you wonder if he even heard them, something in you wilting as you say them; you get your answer when Victor begins to laugh–at least that’s what you think he does. Now this, this strikes fear in your heart because it's not the startled laughter you pull out with silly words, no. This is a breathy sound edged with jagged fury–it's caustic and you feel his chest vibrate with it as he nearly collapses against you, chuckling like you've said something stupid and for once, he doesn't find it cute.

"Stay away? y/n," he stops laughing abruptly and bares his teeth at you in a very unsettling attempt at a smile, "you're a fool if you think I'm letting you walk away from me tonight."

For a moment, there's a strange buzzing in your mind. Your emotions pull you in different directions. A part of you wants to rip into him, to make him bleed and show him what you do to people who threaten you. Another, bigger, part of you wants to moan and plaster yourself to his side and beg him to say that again.

All you really do is stare at him, speechless.

"And they're fools if they think they can take you away from me," Victor adds, and crashes his mouth against yours, hungry and careless with it. Once again, in a concerning trend, any resistance you wanted to play at dissolves. It’s not gentle. You squirm against his grip on your wrists, trembling with the need to run your fingers through his dark hair and hold him against you. You moan when his tongue brushes yours, wiggling until you feel and hear the amused sound in the back of his throat before he releases you.

It's easy to twist and manoeuvre your bodies until you're pressing him into the wall, rising on the tips of your toes to lick into his mouth fervently, reacquainting yourself with the taste of his tongue.

It's a little too easy to lose yourself in his touch, to let everything else fade and fill your senses with just him.

His hands smooth down your back to cup the swell of your ass, pulling you flush against him. Almost every inch of him is pressed against you and you’re starving, with a terrible ache that weeps for him, and a part of you curses him for ruining you. Your blunt fingernails curl into his hair, digging into his scalp, and you will never get enough of the little groan he lets out.

Your hands rove across his torso greedily, your teeth sink into his lip and your breath stutters when you feel his hardness pressing against your stomach.

You freeze, shaken by how completely you lost your composure, and with the way Victor seems to be smirking you know he’s thinking along the same lines. His tousled hair and blown out pupils are an effective deterrent against the part of you that thinks this is a terrible idea; your hair is wilder than it had been before Victor got his hands in it, your lipstick smeared over your mouth and his.

“Come home with me, y/n.”

A tempting offer. You glance behind you, peering down the dark hallway. You don’t think this fear will ever leave you completely, of looking into the darkness and wondering who’s watching you from within.

You know what happens to those who stray. Helios is the greatest example of it, and you firmly steer your thoughts away from that particular pit.

“I took a different route. They didn’t see me," he nuzzles the juncture of your neck before sinking his teeth into soft skin.

You're mortified by your startled yelp, and can't help but look back again reflexively. “They're not here. I wouldn't put you in that position."

You snort, but the effect is ruined by the soft moan you let out when he soothes the stinging skin with his tongue. "I didn't think you cared."

“Wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong,” he retorts, not missing a beat, his fingers massaging the base of your scalp while the other draws nonsensical patterns on your waist. Although you know he meant what he said, with how handsy he’s being it’s clear Victor’s going to be difficult about this; he wants you in his bed tonight.

'And many other nights, apparently.'

You’re more than a little unnerved by the sheer warmth that sends through you.

“Is it just the sex?” you ask carefully, locking eyes with him, battling with the urge to blush at the way he’s looking at you.

“No.” He doesn’t even pretend to think about it, doesn’t consider anything other than the simple truth. He doesn’t say another word, but his eyes were always his most expressive feature–along with his hands.

You nod slowly, because as delightful as that is, you’re not ready to dig deeper. Into his feelings or yours. And you have no idea what to do here; you've lost control over your own actions. You know what the smart thing to do would be–but that would result in losing Victor. For good. There is no part of you that finds that acceptable.

Or you could continue the mission. Get close to him. Keep trying to convince him. It’s unlikely he’ll change his mind about that but it’ll give you time.

“This is a terrible idea,” you say anyway, because you should at least try to put a stop to it. You can’t believe you’re trying to be the sensible one in a situation that involves Victor Li.

He flicks his tongue against your bottom lip, swift and teasing. “I don’t give a fuck.”

‘Seriously, who seduced who here?’

You lace your fingers through his, stepping away and pulling him along hurriedly. It would be best to continue this in the bedroom, for now. Just for tonight, you'll do what he wants. You'll do the smart thing later.

But, as is apparently the recent trend in your life, your plans don’t quite work out.

It wasn’t your fault, as your teasing was mostly innocent while Victor drove at uncharacteristic speeds. Just a squeeze of his thigh, a few careless whispers of how much you had really missed him. Hiking your dress up and letting out a loud mewl when he cupped your clothed sex possessively.

You end up in an empty parking lot near his building; with his suit jacket thrown onto the back seat, you sprawled over it, your mouths meeting frantically as he pushes the hem of your dress up until it bunches up over your waist. He shifts back, opening the door and stepping one leg out, the other folding on the floor of the car.

The cool breeze has goosebumps erupting all over your skin; you shiver from it, and the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair and torrid gaze.

Warm hands curl around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the seat, and you let one foot drop to rest on the floor as he watches in approval. The other is pushed up into your chest, leaving you spread shamelessly for his consumption.

Control was never really an option, you had realised sometime when his hands had slipped beneath the edge of your dress to rub your cunt through your soaked panties, which now hang precariously from one ankle. He knows where to touch you, and you know it’s only been a few months, but it still brings a stinging feeling to the back of your eyes.

You’re desperate to feel his mouth on you, to work you open with his talented tongue; his lips find the tender skin of your inner thighs instead, kissing and sucking blushing tokens of his affection across them. You twitch and moan as he fixates on this, his possessiveness clear in his actions, and a distant part of your mind thinks it’s not going to be as easy as giving yourselves this one night.

Its voice is suppressed by a long, languorous lick along your slit.

‘Oh-‘

“Fuck.” Your back arches as he presses the flat of his tongue against your clit and a steady hand on your folded knee pushes you back down. He laps at you with a zeal he only ever displays when his head is between your thighs, his mouth slurping every drop of your arousal, and you writhe beneath his touch, failing to suppress your moans.

A hand reaches for the edge of the seat, clutching it for dear life, while the other slides into his silken hair as you rock your hips into his mouth with an urgency that takes over every part of your brain.

He works you closer to it, swirling his tongue around your swollen nub; your gaze is unfocused, all you need is to reach the edge, and if he groans like that again you might just come-

A pitiful whine escapes you as he pulls back, his smirking mouth glistening with your arousal you tug at his hair insistently. Your angry motions still when he reaches for the buckle of his belt, sliding the accessory out of the loops.

Before he can even think about tying you up, you snatch it out of his hands and throw it behind you. It hits the door with a sharp clack that sounds jarring in the silence of the car and its surroundings.

He climbs over you carefully, keeping one foot on the floor of the car while the other leg comes to rest on the seat. It’s a tight fit, and you could giggle at how he moves around so cautiously to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling. He reaches for his zipper and your amusement flees quickly as you reach out and shoo his hands away eagerly.

Your teeth dig into the pale expanse of his neck as you pull his straining cock out, wrapping a hand around its base, pumping it slowly; he doesn’t even attempt to control the mouth-watering groans escaping his mouth, his hands braced against the seat on either side of your head.

Stopping was never really an option either, you acknowledge, as you tease your slit with the swollen head of his cock, your lips parting with anticipation. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway, tie hanging loose, marks peppered over his chest, his dark hair in disarray.

You try to maintain the eye contact as you guide his cock through your entrance, engulfing it with your heat, walls clenching around him as your head tips back involuntarily. It’s one of the best sensations in the world–feeling Victor’s cock push through your tight cunt, and you wouldn’t give him up for any power in the world.

Victor leans in, slotting his mouth over yours, a hand urging your knees up while the other tugs the straps of your dress down, baring your breasts. His hand, warm and trembling ever so slightly as he bottoms out, cups your breast gently, thumb stroking over a taut nipple.

As you try to get him to move, he stops you, keeping you still as his fingers dig into your skin.

“V-Victor?” You wiggle your hips and he squeezes your breast firmly, as if warning you to cease your attempts. “Wha-“

He shushes you quickly again, pressing his forehead to your shoulder; you’re quite annoyed for just a second and then you notice the tension coiled in his muscles as he tries to keep his bearings; he moves his hand from your skin to the headrest, knuckles white from his right grip, to keep from drilling into you violently and ending this quickly.

You card your fingers through his hair before tugging on it, until he lifts his head so you can kiss him sloppily. He relaxes as you wrap your arms around him, holding him close for a moment as you place one last kiss on the corner of his mouth, nuzzling his cheek soothingly.

“There were moments,” Victor begins, hoarsely and slowly, “when I thought I would never get to feel this again.”

He presses his lips to your forehead.

“It was foolish, because I knew you would come to me eventually. But I was forced to acknowledge that there was a chance that my rejection had...consequences I would rather not think of.” He looks down at you, a tiny smile dancing along his lips. “So, please, y/n–” Don’t leave. Don’t run. Stay.

You still, meeting his gaze, pained and unwavering in it–and it hurts. It hurts so deeply you can’t breathe for a moment, because he’s letting his guard down and letting you see how much you hurt him. All those games, all those moments spent cursing yourself for falling so hard–it was real for you, but it was real for him too. And maybe he’d known who you were from the start, or maybe he hadn’t; your mission had hit a roadblock once he found out, and you’d taken that chance to disappear, to pretend you were reevaluating things. You thought the distance would do your aching heart some good while BS decided whether further pursual was required.

You’d never thought, even for a moment, that he would want you to stay.

Victor doesn’t resist when you push him back, watching as you slip out of your dress and drape it over the front seat, until he’s sitting with you in his lap, holding on to you as you reach for his cock and sink down over it. With your hands braced against his chest, you begin a slow grind against his pelvis. Your lips twitch with the urge to smile at Victor's near blissful expression, his hands stroking along your waist and thighs fervently.

You can't help but lean over him, one hand coming to rest on the seat, smiling slightly at the way his lips part as you lift your hips and drop down, repeating the motions languidly. You press a kiss to his cheek, and another, repeating the action all over his face until he catches you in a kiss that has your heart throbbing harder.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, a flush riding high across his cheeks. You clench your walls around him and his hips buck involuntarily, prompting a quick glare from him. “I never meant t-to leave like that.”

"Or take your sweet time to come out of hiding?" he mutters, and you laugh shakily, kissing the top of his head. “Ah-don’t laugh. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’m good at hiding,” you quip with a breathless smile, rocking your hips faster, now determined to see him in pieces underneath you. His hands hold onto your hips just as you get into it, keeping you from moving faster, and you nearly hiss at him in your frustration.

"Just don’t hide from me.” His eyes glitter dangerously, daring you to argue.

"Don’t give me a reason to,” you snap, only for your scowl to be wiped off your face when his hand wraps around your throat, yanking you forward until you're eye to eye.

"I will never give you a reason to leave me," he promises darkly, squeezing until a strangled protest escapes you. “I take care of what’s mine, sweetheart.” He doesn't release you, adjusting his body beneath you until he gains a solid foothold, and within the next second he's snapping his hips up into yours, all traces of gentility vanished.

Your eyes roll back, skin flushed and sweating; with every thrust, he seems to be obliterating your entire thought process. You meet his unwavering gaze, your eyes teary as you try to match his pace; you watch him soften slightly, only for him to tighten his grip on your windpipe and reach between your bodies with his free hand.

Bright spots start to appear on the edges of your vision. Your head starts to feel light and a part of you is once more delighted by the practised way his fingers work your clit–and then you stop thinking. For a long moment, you're floating, drifting, quaking, and then you tune back in time to see Victor's pace start to falter, hand unwrapping from around your throat, his eyes alternating between unfocusing and staying fixated on you as he bounces you in his lap.

He spills into you with a throaty groan, unaware of your hungry eyes committing the sight and feeling to memory. He pulls you in, holding you close, and you sag against him tiredly.

His thumb strokes the tender skin across your throat in a silent apology as you both lay there panting, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as you relax completely. It terrifies you, letting your guard down so thoroughly when you’re not even in his bed. It’s just for a moment, though. You want to give yourself this moment to relax.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you murmur because you’re a fool who can’t relax when there’s danger lurking in every corner.

He hums, in agreement you think, tugging his jacket out from under him to wrap it around your shivering form. He reaches for the door, pulling it shut as you wonder how you’ve been here for this long without getting caught. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever comes our way.”

There’s a lot to consider, a lot of plans to be scraped and a lot of people to be contacted. But sitting here, in the silence of his car with his arms tight around you, you think you can do it. You think it might just be possible to protect both of you from Black Swan.

And if not you, then him. Because just as he can’t let you go, you can’t let them sink their claws into him. You’ll destroy every single one of them before that happens.

‘Guess I really am a fool.’

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #time for dinner really hope i edited out enough typos

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quillyfied · 5 years ago

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Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 2

Part 2 is here!

99 titles this time because I have no self-control, once again separated into different categories: Jaunts through History/Canon, South Downs, Post-Apocalypse, Bus Ride/Night Before/Heaven and Hell, AU/UA, Soft, Before (a new category exclusive to this list, about Heaven before and during the War), Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings, Bonus, and H/C /Whump/BAMF. Warnings for gore and explicit material present where applicable.

Enjoy these as I have, because they’re all worth savoring!

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF A LINK IS BROKEN OR IF I MISATTRIBUTED SOMETHING.

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1. Paperwork – Mirach (T, the one where Aziraphale is filling out forms for a new corporation and is idly flashing back to the reasons for his discorporation. It has a lot to do with Crowley. This one is so sweet and heartfelt, and also has a surprise at the end that gave me a good chuckle.)

2. A Dozen Red Roses for My Darling – @raiining (G, the one where Crowley finds himself in a bit of a pickle while doing a miracle for Aziraphale. This one has the funniest summary and I don’t even know why it’s so funny to me. It’s even better that it’s a Regency story, and the underlying tension between Crowley and Aziraphale is so good. Simple and sweet.)

3. When the lights go out (run away with me) – strawberriesandtophats (T, the one where Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis skip out for the night. Has a gorgeous little rendezvous between the two of them, and a wonderful second chapter where they find Warlock again. Entirely too beautiful. All the emotions.)

4. older now, and the light is dim – WISHBONE (NR, the one where Aziraphale walks in on Crowley holding baby Warlock and both he and my heart go entirely to pieces. Based on that one gingerhaole fanart, it captures the quiet tenderness of the art perfectly, and then beyond—Crowley goes a little protective at one point and then Aziraphale is introspective and it’s GOOD.)

5. It begins, as it will end, in a garden – @tenoko1 (G, the one where it’s the cold open but with a recurring theme of flowers woven in. This one has fluctuating gender presentations and Crowley and Aziraphale discorporating each other and one utterly perfect moment where Aziraphale tries to kill Crowley and can’t make herself do it, and it is all Too Soft and Too Beautiful for words.)

6. A House in the Country – @theoldaquarian (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale take a vacation in an abandoned house in the Lake District for a summer. It’s beautiful and there’s pining and there might be thirty-six rooms in this place but it’s nicer to spend time together, dangit. Understated and quiet and perfect.)

7. The Gospel of Crowley – gutterandthestars (T, the one where Crowley gets on with tempting Christ and in true Crowley fashion it backfires on him. Jesus has the BEST characterization, he and Crowley have wonderful banter, and the whole thing is poignant and hilarious. Loved it from start to finish.)

8. build me a city, call it jerusalem – @gyzym (T, the one where Crowley considers Right and Wrong. Book-verse. Jumps around in history and is one of those really esoteric, artistic pieces that makes you stop and think about what you just read. Absolutely gorgeous.)

9. Solitarius – @popcornpowergoddess (G, the one where Crowley blesses an old cottage and is sad. This one blew my mind when I read the author is fifteen, because WOW they are going places if they’re already this good. The work is heartbreaking and a little funny and so, so visually appealing. A real treat for the brain.)

10. Sawdust of Words – @aethelflaedladyofmercia (G and T, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship and the Ineffable Plan get looked at from another angle. This series is already gonna rip me to pieces—Early Days had the most gorgeous and DIFFERENT storyline for Aziraphale post-Adam and Eve getting cast out, and it has him and Crowley actually arguing and being contentious at first in their relationship, it’s so good, especially when they start to try and work it out. Obedience hurt me in ways I did not ask for. The stories jump around in the timeline and it’s all so GOOD, I’m READY for more!)

11. An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually – @theladyzephyr (G, the one where it’s exactly what it says on the tin. Jumps through history and has precious tender moments and less-than-tender moments all jumbled up in there, you can really feel with Aziraphale where he starts to lose the fight against his feelings. Just fantastic.)

12. Inauspicious (But Not Impossible) – @thetunewillcome (M, the one where there’s a kiss in 1945 and immediate consequences, and Aziraphale contemplates Romeo and Juliet. IMO doesn’t deserve the M rating, the kissing and the snogging are both pretty innocuous. The pining is real and delicious and painful, and the ways Heaven and Hell choose to remind their agents of what happens to traitors is Awful. Nothing gory, just sad. But it ends so much happier.)

13. and you can say that my hair’s a disgrace – @phoenix-soar (T, the one that’s an ode to Crowley’s hair throughout the years, and excuses for Aziraphale to touch it. Intimate, romantic, intensely emotional, just a real treat of a fic. Aziraphale loves Crowley and his hair so much.)

14. As Yearning Lips to Unyielding Stone – SanSanFanFan (G, the one where Crowley gets maudlin over a statue that looks like Aziraphale. Oh my gosh, you guys. You guys, the PINING. The YEARNING. The LONGING. It’s exquisite and painful and a work of art in and of itself. I have a soft spot for period fics, especially Italian Renaissance, for some reason, and THIS is one of the best.)

15. What’s Done In the Dark – @charmingpplincardigans (T, the one where Crowley literally glows with love and HOLY CRAP ON A STICK, Y’ALL, this one is an epic. It’s as much a story about growth as it is about love, and it’s so, so satisfying to watch Crowley go through this journey. I don’t have the words, just know that it’s one of those fics you can’t pass up. A+++++++)

16. Hot Days, Mad Blood – noodlefrog (T, the one where Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to duel, or he will in future chapters. This is a brand-spanking-new one that is gonna be so much fun to watch update. Italian Renaissance! Swordplay! Crowley being a smitten idiot! Aziraphale being competent! It’s gonna be so good y’all.)

SOUTH DOWNS

17. make your good love known to me (or just tell me about your day) – Sky_Stars_Sea (G, the one where Crowley is adjusting to living with Aziraphale. Has a beautiful sensory experience running throughout, and Crowley being so vulnerable it physically hurts. Beautiful, beautiful story.)

18. The Cottage at the End of the Lane – Angelina_Aintithenniel (T, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale have to defend what’s theirs. I have never screamed at my computer so much while reading a fic series, mostly along the lines of “LEAVE THEM AND THEIR HOUSE ALONE,” because this series is the Madoka Magica of fics: cute and fluffy casing, unexpectedly wild, angsty, action-packed innards. I adore this whole series. It makes me FEEL things.)

19. in my darkness I remember – @anthxnyjcrxwley (T, the one where it’s a soft, quiet night in the South Downs. A straight shot of fluff right to the heart, friendos, nothing more, nothing less. Stuff a mattress with this fic and say goodbye to any and all worldy pains.)

20. there’s no kingdom to come – killingthemoon (T, the one where Crowley slips off to fix up the cottage before springing it on Aziraphale. Tender, sweet, has a gorgeous ending scene that’s lots of fun and lots of shouting at the sky.)

21. A Heaven More Like This – miladyshakespeare (T, the one where it’s a Welsh cottage this time, cycling through a year. Such a beautiful piece of longing and uncertainty as Crowley and Aziraphale circle each other, a lot of quiet themes about letting yourself be cared for and letting yourself care, and also there’s a cat.)

22. The Legend of Devil’s Dyke – @sameoldsorceress (M, the one that’s a retelling of a popular South Downs local legend. Not sure at all why this one is rated M but it might be the gratuitous use of the word “cocks”, though in context it’s not filthy at all. This one is FUN, y’all, and I agree with the sentiment of the Tumblr post that inspired the fic, there need to be more fics featuring local South Downs legends.)

POST-APOCALYPSE

23. Slow – @theirdarkreturning (T, the one where the Antichrist makes some assumptions when he puts the world back together. Scores points for being very Jewish and playing right into the classic nigh-Shakespearean trope of miscommunication. Hilarious and sweet also the one where God signs the marriage certificate.)

24. Binary Stars – samael_the_scrivener (T, the one where Crowley has an emotional breakdown and Aziraphale does his best to make it right. Heavily emotional and angsty, nearly had me in tears right along with Crowley, and Aziraphale’s portion doesn’t back down from the tone, they have to fight tooth and nail through the emotional blockage to get to understanding and it’s positively sublime.)

25. If We’ve Got Nothing (We’ve Got Us) – @kedreeva (G, the one where everyone ends up where they’re meant to be. A gorgeous story about found family and working through differences and—eventually—God’s Ineffable Plan possibly coming to full fruition. I don’t wanna spoil too much, it’s best experienced blind.)

26. The Ludicrous and Many Disasters of Mister A.Z. Fell, Houseplant – @souljellied (T, the one where it is also exactly what it says on the tin and is exactly as ridiculous as you’d hope. With an unexpected but not unwelcome dash of angst, to boot. Crowley doesn’t take too well to being unable to immediately find Aziraphale, after all. Aziraphale is mostly wondering how to get out of this mess.)

27. In the (Second) Beginning – cherryfeather (M, the one where they have an inevitable conversation after the Ritz. Doesn’t really need the M rating since the smooching is intense but not graphic, and has the single greatest scene of Aziraphale reminding Crowley he’s a sensualist of ALL TIME. Fabulous work, very formative for me tbh.)

28. all I need, darling, is a life in your shape – @mortuarybees (G, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley need some convincing in the form of their well-meaning friends putting them in a room with one bed. The pining is delicious and piping hot, friends, and then suddenly oh my GoSatSomebody, they were roommates. A great little number with a beautiful confession scene.)

29. corrections – @0nelater (T, the one where Crowley is having a slow, melting come-apart about his feelings. Lots of Crowley being, in his own words, a basket case, and having a fundamental misunderstanding of how angels sensing love works, and how those two concepts are resolved. Has beautiful color symbolism and fun meta throughout.)

30. dearly beloved – @dissatisfied-starlight (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale get married, despite the universe’s best efforts, it seems. Hilarious and sweet and surprising! Not to spoil anything, but also has the best Beelzebub characterization as a nice little cherry on top.)

31. A Buried and Burning Flame – Lissomedi (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale visit an art museum and happen upon a disturbingly accurate and intimate depiction of themselves. Lots of Crowley pining and then being miserable, lots of Aziraphale being confused and then exasperated. So cute and sweet.)

32. The Long Game – sir_not_appearing_in_this_archive (G, the one that’s an adventure romp with proper twists and pining and saving the world. I love the spirit of this one, and the various inconveniences the cast have to overcome to stay out of Heaven and Hell’s radar. The building action right before the climax of the plot is heart-stopping, and the resolution is suitably satisfying. Was a fun way to spend a late night, for sure.)

33. in which labels are finnicky things – REVVIII (T, the one where Aziraphale is trying to figure out the perimeters of their relationship post-Apocalypse. He tries so hard, does his research, but honestly, nothing is gonna do it like talking to Crowley about it openly, which is, of course, not his first course of action. Very cute, especially when he’s trying to suss out what friends with benefits are.)

BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

34. if you wanna be alone, come with me – mygalfriday (G, the one where they can’t even make it into Crowley’s flat before it all comes spilling out. Short and sweet shot of fluff, just a perfect little sip of serotonin.)

35. The Things We Did and Didn’t Do – @dietraumerei (G, the one where they finally get their act together and defeat Heaven and Hell with the power of LOVE. Such tender, very emotion. Wow.)

36. Too Generous – rfsmiley (T, the one where That One Line, you know the one, from Pride and Prejudice serves as the inspiration. There’s some sneaky shirt-opening and it’s both hot and kinda funny. The very definition of “enthusiastic consent.”)

37. Exit Interview – Pygmy Puff (G, the one where Crowley has to survive a round of paperwork in order to get out of Heaven in Aziraphale’s body. This one went in a completely unexpected direction. I was ready for a humorous romp through Heaven’s bureaucracy. I got so much more than I was bargaining for. Read it, it’s ridiculous in all the best ways and surprisingly dangerous.)

AU/UA

38. An Honest Surrender – @kedreeva (T, the one where their plan to fool Heaven and Hell is a little different. Y’all might already know this one as the Angel Marriage fic, but for those who don’t, imagine “marriage” as we know it and then throw that concept out the window, because what happens is too weird and beautiful for words. My words, anyway.)

39. Mr. Fell – @amarguerite (T, the one that’s a reverse AU where Aziraphale is a Victorian dandy frat boy party-thrower who used to date Satan and talks about it constantly, and Crowley is Heaven’s perfect little soldier and all the PTSD that comes with. Tons of heart and originality already, though it’s still early in the fic, and a truly special dynamic between Aziraphale and Crowley. Also Aziraphale accidentally causes Original Sin by inventing brunch and if that doesn’t get you to read, nothing will.)

40. Keep Getting Stranger (I Do) – @callipygiangoldfish (T, the one that’s a Howl’s Moving Castle AU, patterned more after the book than the movie. It’s a wonderful little adventure about accepting yourself and the side-dish of falling in love is SCRUMPTIOUS.)

41. By the Light of My Stars – @theladydrgn (T, the one where Crowley was Raphael and in love with Aziraphale and that bit doesn’t change, at least. Has probably my favorite tag used in any fic ever of all time, I’ll see if you can spot it. Protective Crowley for MILES and MILES in this one, what he does to a demon that threatens Aziraphale is pure poetry. Going in a promising direction for sure!)

42. flammam gladii hinc – @wildenessat221b (G, the series where Crowley was Raphael and wiped Aziraphale’s memory to protect him. Has the BEST backstory for the flaming sword, of all things, and a bittersweet story throughout. Told in terms of [redacted] so it’s got a bit of mystery to it but not much. Somehow that makes it sadder.)

43. Bring Out Your Dead – metallic_sweet (T, the one where Crowley is Raphael and a healer no matter what Heaven tries to get him to do. A reverse AU where Aziraphale is a shark, of all things, and a warrior with a supernaturally bad sense of direction trying his best. It’s a refreshing change of pace in both reverse AUs and Raphael AUs; Crowley is still gruff and Aziraphale is still sweet and it’s perfect.)

44. Something to do with these sacred words – @thehumantrampoline (T, the one where Crowley confesses early and often. It’s both lovely and sad, in a way, for Crowley to be so open about his feelings so much without Aziraphale doing much about it besides panic internally, but the ending is sweet, very much so.)

45. reckless and wild and stricken – @weatheredlaw (T, the one where Armageddon happens again and this time it’s a true post-apocalyptic nightmare scenario. Weatheredlaw is famous for having fics that just tear at the heartstrings, and this one’s no different. It’s tender and it’s sad and it’s desperate and it HAUNTS ME.)

46. A price to pay – @aerococonut (T, the one where performing miracles costs Crowley something. A lovely look at the technicalities of Crowley—and Aziraphale, mind—doing something they aren’t made for, and the ways it changes them. Fans of fics about chronic pain, this is the one.)

47. Soulmates – GoodandIneffable (G, the one where your lies put marks on your soulmate’s body, and Aziraphale and Crowley are soulmates. This is one I wish had at least a 3k-word expansion, because the concept is gorgeous and Crowley’s realization at what it truly means to be Aziraphale’s soulmate is staggering. Short, but worth it.)

48. i love(d) you – extraordinarilyextreme (G, the one that’s a Star Wars AU and it WRECKED ME. Force-bonds, love, betrayal, forgiveness, AUGH. It’s too much. I love it. Also Padawans Warlock and Adam ftw.)

49. The Book of Aziraphale – @gigglesnortbangdead (T, the one where Aziraphale wrote poetry he never intended to make public, and naturally it goes public. This had the potential to be silly or sweet and wound up directly in poignant instead; Aziraphale takes a decidedly self-loathing approach with a lot of his poetry and it’s amazing to watch him work through his feelings about himself and about Crowley.)

50. Of Celestial Sonnets and Pitiable Poets – trieduntrue (T, the one where Crowley wrote poetry he never intended to make public and then Hell finds it. So naturally, to save his skin, he has it printed and distributed under the guise of “spreading sin.” Then he writes and publishes a second one completely drunk. This one is pure silliness and Crowley schadenfreude; it really plays up the beloved device of “everything Crowley does backfires on him somehow” in the most lighthearted way.)

51. The Healer and the Lover – Nnm (T and G, the series where Aziraphale’s name means “of Raphael” and that’s who Crowley used to be, and there’s a lot of complicated feelings involved. Really emotionally complex and interesting take on the Raphael AU, one I’ve come back to a lot because it’s so compelling.)

52. Tracing The Stars On Your Skin – PunJedi (T, the one where Crowley’s freckles used to be stars. Achingly sweet and sad, goes through each constellation Crowley made and has a story for it. The end is just gorgeous, really emotional and sweet.)

53. On the Matter of Touch – @somedrunkpirate (T, the one where Aziraphale is flooded with the emotions of the ones he touches, and Crowley is a touch-starved lovesick sad sap. Incredibly tender and emotional, lots about boundaries and communication and the Mortifying Ordeal of letting yourself care and be cared for.)

SOFT

54. keep me close – @saints-and-demons-preserve-us (G, the one where Aziraphale accidentally discovers that Crowley does local theatre. It’s so funny and sweet and full of longing and excellent Broadway tunes, and also Aziraphale is The Most Awkward and it’s gratifying af.)

55. i keep a window for you (it’s always open) – @campgender (T, the one where they quote Romeo and Juliet a lot. It’s beautiful and romantic and Shakespeare always deserves appreciation. The lines that are picked out are especially gorgeous in the context of the fic.)

56. Hunter’s Heart, Hunter’s Mouth – kashiichan (T, the series where Aziraphale romances Crowley with poetry. I’m new here so I don’t quite understand the Gomens fandom’s immortal love of Richard Siken, but I can darn well appreciate good poetry, especially when it’s couched in tender touches and overwhelming feels.)

57. Fools in Love – @theres-a-goldensky (T and M, the series where this is absolutely true. The first is a frankly hilarious jaunt at Aziraphale trying different hobbies and dragging Crowley into them, the second is Aziraphale not realizing he’s projecting his own longing for Crowley onto everyone around him and then getting jealous of his own warped perceptions. M rating is more for lascivious intent and verbiage than actual smut, and what an intent it is XD)

58. To Trust in One Another – bluespring864 (T, the one where Aziraphale is haunted by something insensitive he once said to Crowley. Do you enjoy pining that builds until it breaks every dam in the universe? Do you enjoy self-flagellating for something dumb you said once? Welcome to paradise, friends, a sweet, adorable paradise.)

59. Best Not To Dwell On It – @saaliyah (G, the one where they make out in a linen closet sometime in the early 1800s. Short, simple, sweet, and making out in a linen closet, what more do you thirsty lovies need XD)

60. Something So Precious – @freyjawriter24 (G, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley are adopted by two separate groups of old ladies who take it upon themselves to matchmake, as groups of old ladies are wont to do. Too adorable for words, will cause literal discorporation.)

61. Birds of a Feather – @idiopathicsmile (T, the one where Aziraphale is nesting and Crowley doesn’t get it. Another one of those classic miscommunication fics where everything is awful until they finally get on the same page, and then it’s wonderful. Also the thought of Aziraphale in particular feathering his nest with things he and Crowley both like is the sweetest mental image of all time.)

62. Just Hold On Tight – @books-n-bentleys (G, the one where communication is key to every relationship. Love languages are a thing and making sure you and your partner come to an understanding about them is important; see this fic for why this is a really good idea. Because every relationship deserves tenderness and understanding and the correct level of schmoop.)

63. Braving Those Angry Skies – ladymerlot (T, the one where Crowley nearly kills himself saving Aziraphale from Nazis. Crowley is so perfectly in character throughout it’s almost funny even when it isn’t (maybe especially when it isn’t). A prime example of my favorite Gomens fic trope to date. I know I don’t have a lot of variance in my adjectives but you guys TENDER. ROMANTIC. SWEET. IT’S ALL OF THEM.)

64. Moral Arguments – WhiteQueenWrites (T, the one where Crowley and the gang help a woman get revenge on her truly horrible ex. This one is FUN, there’s no other way to say it. It’s cathartic and satisfying and is one of those fics I wish was a cheesy movie I could watch while eating disgusting amounts of popcorn.)

65. get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) – @brinnanza (G, the one where Aziraphale is convinced Crowley doesn’t love him back and it’s fine. Cute and emotional and must absolutely be read with its counterpart below. This one first, that’s why it’s listed first; they aren’t related in the way that they’re the same scene from different perspectives, they’re just similar situations with the roles swapped, and it’s so worth reading, these idiots I swear 2 Someone.)

66. you play with my feelings (right from the start) – @penrosesun (G, the one where Crowley is convinced Aziraphale doesn’t love him back and it’s fine. Hilarious and emotional and must absolutely be read with its counterpart above. Really illustrates how two smart people can completely miss the point for THOUSANDS OF YEARS.)

67. Worth Any Price – @sameoldsorceress (T, the one where Crowley sets up a kissing booth. You guys I was ready for fun shenanigans involving Crowley kissing the general public and maybe Aziraphale getting a little bothered under the collar. I was not expecting the FEELS. The PLOT. The UNEXPECTED PUNCH TO THE GUT. Absolutely an underrated treasure in this fandom, needs to be talked of often.)

68. Bodies of Change – @dietraumerei (G, the one where Aziraphale has new clothes. This one plays right into my Fashion itch and it’s wonderful and body-positive and so, so sweet. Crowley is so smitten with his angel.)

69. i did not know ‘twas love i gave – miribees (T, the one where Aziraphale makes Crowley a mixtape. This one is unexpectedly bittersweet and tender, with Crowley and Aziraphale in a fight for a good chunk of the fic, but it’s the apology and the making up that’s sweetest, of course.)

70. World Cold, Aziraphale Warm – maddiemaynot (NR, the one where Crowley is trying his best, okay. It’s unbearably romantic how much they love each other, how they slide into soft intimacy in fits and starts. Also has quite possibly the most disastrous date in history, but it’s the thought that counts.)

BEFORE

71. Fractured Heart – @asparklethatisblue (T, the one that’s gonna murder me with Aziraphale’s feels. The premise is that angels can be physically broken by strong emotion, and what’s stronger than the grief of losing a loved one to the Rebellion? Also dealing with Aziraphale’s feelings for Crowley getting tangled up in his feelings for his lost heavenly love, and it’s DELICIOUS.)

72. ask, and ye shall receive – @ariaste (G, the one where Crawly gets exactly what he’s asking for. Very much has the feel of my something-great grandpa, who once told a man “Go ahead, shoot me!” and was obliged. Hilarious and sweet, you can FEEL God’s smugness throughout the entire fic.)

73. what wound did ever heal – HallsofStone2941 (M, the one where Aziraphale is wounded in the War in Heaven and carries it with him. Rated M for one line involving sexytimes that truly isn’t that bad at all. Aziraphale is just so good and brave and Aziraphale about it all, A+++ characterization.)

74. Falling – @differentjasper (T, the one where the War in Heaven changed a lot of things. Read this if you want to picture little baby angel Aziraphale and Crowley and then get EMOTIONALLY WRECKED about them. I kinda wanted to rip my own heart out just to stop it from hurting so much while reading it.)

TOUCH-STARVED/BODY WORSHIP/WINGS

75. Uncaffeinated Decisions – @suntosirius (T, the one where Aziraphale is insecure and Crowley is sleepy. Utterly heart-rending in the best way; reading Crowley being so loving of Aziraphale’s body was extremely cathartic and satisfying, and continues to deliver every re-read.)

76. And So He Bringeth Them Unto the Haven – @je-suis-em-jee (T, the one where they’re both so touch-starved it’s obscene. Pitch-perfect romance and intimacy, I could feel the affection and love in my very bones.)

77. All that’s been shown to me (Sunlight) – WillowRoseBrook (T, the one where Aziraphale needs some convincing that being soft is good. I’m especially weak for softness being praised, so this one hit me like a nail between the eyes. Intense, passionate, and intimate. Deffo got that praise kink going, too.)

78. These Fragments I Have Shored Against My Ruins – @istezada (NR, the one with vague D/s themes as Crowley and Aziraphale work through their traumas together. Has wing grooming and praising and misunderstandings and communication, oh my. A veritable piñata of feels.)

79. Long For the Touch of Your Hand – sara_wolfe (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale Did the Do in ancient Athens and predictably never touched again because Miscommunication. Oh, y’all, so mournful and uncertain, so desperate and sweet! My skin literally ached the first time I read this, it was the best.)

80. I Love My Lover With A-- – DictionaryWrites2 (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale have a game that involves kissing and adjectives. Book-verse, one of those curious fics where you’re both drowning in feels and learning something. Sensual in all the best ways and so achingly loving.)

81. Untouched – @etaleah (T, the one that RIPPED MY HEART FROM MY CHEST WITHIN THE FIRST COUPLE HUNDRED WORDS OR LESS. And then CONTINUED TO PUMMEL ME INTO THE GROUND FOR THREE THOUSAND WORDS. Crowley is so painfully touch-starved it kicked my own touch-starvedness into overdrive. Will take your emotions and leave them bleeding and broken before carefully bandaging them up and giving them a snuggle.)

82. a garden all their own – @letmetemptyou (T, the one where Crowley gets some much-needed TLC as he starts to process the day of Armageddon. Plaintive, poignant, and deeply emotional. Absolutely wrecked me.)

BONUS

83. High Risk, No Reward – @asideofourown (T, the one where idiots try to rob the bookshop. BAMF Aziraphale and hapless mortals, it doesn’t get any better than this.)

84. Asportation – @mazarin221b (T, the one where Aziraphale gets kidnapped and gets the best of his kidnappers. Or, rather, brings out the best in his kidnappers. Such a delightful way for Aziraphale to deal with the people who tried to put him up for ransom, the whole thing is utterly charming.)

85. A Button to Lurk – @reidluver (T, a quiet and mournful look at a possible spin on Michael and Hastur’s relationships with Ligur, and what’s left after Armageddon. Took me completely by surprise. Understated, powerful, and dignified, if you can believe it. Of course it is, it’s Michael.)

86. And So They Grew Better – JiMoriartea (NR, the one that’s about the plants! Basically has canon from the perspective of the unfortunate little plant that gets singled out for having a leaf spot. She is a delight and I’m so proud of her, and can’t wait to see her completely miss the point of future events XD)

87. Secret Agent Man – @theaceace (G, the one from the perspective of an actual secret agent who doesn’t think Crowley and Aziraphale are very good at their jobs. Baffling and hilarious and wonderful in every way.)

H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

88. The Point of You and Me – Rizandace (T, the one where you think everything is gonna be fine and then Gabriel happens. The danger is real. The emotions are real. The heart-stopping was figurative but felt pretty real at the time, tbh. Prepare to get punched in the face with your feelings.)

89. (Don’t) Say My Name – @cosmicocelot (M, the one where Crowley gets summoned by a not-nice person. M for torture. A classic search-and-rescue and it’s the best OH SNAP moment when Aziraphale finally catches up. Woof.)

90. Something Wicked – @thepaisleyelf (M, the one where Aziraphale gets summoned by a not-nice person. M for torture, though it’s supernatural and not exactly graphic. This one is an intense and wild adventure, y’all, that morphs straight into intense and desperate attempts at care and healing. The whole thing is a tender love story wrapped in a Victorian supernatural candy coating and it SLAPS.)

91. Every Demon Wants his Pound of Flesh – @dolphin-bouillabaisse (T, the one where Hastur is stalking Crowley. If hurt!Crowley trying to be brave and not let anyone know he’s hurting and bamf!Aziraphale taking care of business once he finally figures it out is your flavor, then welcome to Flavor Town, because this one is juicy. Was not at ALL expecting the ending, it’s delicious and vindictive.)

92. And we could feel, (none of it) – @clankclunk (G, the one where Aziraphale comes to grips with how Crowley knows to save him and the implications of that. Aziraphale’s entire emotional journey through this fic is so heartbreaking. But the conclusion is the exact counterbalance of healing and sweetness needed. Also Heaven is full of dicks but we knew that (except Aziraphale didn’t but that’s the point of this fic, now go read it).)

93. the wonder that keeps the stars apart – Nilmiel (G, the one where, fourteen hours after he gets the holy water, Crowley immediately has an Incident. Painful and emotional and intensely sweet. The second chapter has the best closure, even though it happens post-Armageddon’t.)

94. goodnight sweet prince (and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest) – @xoxoemynn (T, the one where Crowley needs a nap. Told throughout like a bedtime story in between the narrative and it’s such a charming effect, watching Crowley succumb to his exhaustion and Aziraphale take care of him.)

95. Fragments of Life – TheGirlWithBrightEyes (G, T, M, the series where Crowley has PTSD and anxiety, and Aziraphale adjusts. This series is a heartbreaking one and doesn’t shy away from the ugly parts of neurodivergence, but as much pain as there is, there is an equal and even greater amount of comfort and positive reinforcement. The single M is for a fic that toes the line of smut but doesn’t actually go over. Feels as cathartic as a good long cry.)

96. A Choiceless Hope In Grief – @thealphaaxolotl (NR, the one inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice. Featuring Crowley trapped in Tartarus and Aziraphale being more determined than Heaven and Hell combined to save him. One of those stories that drags you through the dark but doesn’t leave you there—at least, not alone, not without comfort.)

97. November Rain – FeatherBlack (T, the one where Crowley has a very bad time dealing with his emotions and Aziraphale is very bad at communicating. Visceral and emotional and raw and difficult to read at times with how miserable everyone is, but it does get better. It does definitely get better.)

98. Within These Walls – Elvendork (G and T, the series that you think is gonna be a fluffy “Greatest Showman” song-inspired jaunt but then comes out of left field with a sucker punch straight to the throat. Touching and thrilling and who invited Gabriel and Sandalphon, because I sure didn’t.)

99. Sticks and Stones – Kaz_Langston (T, the one where Aziraphale develops disordered eating because Gabriel is a dick. This one hurt so much, Aziraphale does not deserve what happens to him, but he does deserve the love and care Crowley gives him as a result.)

#good omens #good omens fic recs #mega gomens fic rec list #there might be one more after this #and then regular-sized fic rec lists i promise #a reasonable amount of recs #bless your soul if you actually read all of this

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crimson-snowfall · 5 years ago

Text

Ikemen Vampire: Language of Flowers - Jean

Flower: Monkshood

Meaning/Symbolism: Knight-errantry

Word Count: 890

You watched from the balcony of your room as Jean practiced his swordsmanship with Napoleon. He’s been practicing a lot more than usual lately, and when you asked him if there’s any particular reason, he simply said that he wanted to be stronger so he can better protect you, and left it at that. While it wasn’t entirely a lie, you think Jean is strong enough as he is... and he also happens to be a very bad liar, and even lying through half-truths makes him so uncomfortable you can see the guilt play out on his expression.

It wasn’t that much of a big deal, so you decided not to press the matter any further, but of course you have to satisfy your curiosity somehow. That’s how you found yourself observing Jean more often, and so far you’ve had no success in deciphering the reason behind his actions lately.

It was getting pretty late and you were about to turn in for the night when Napoleon’s rapier flew out of his hands, with Jean almost inflicting a wound on him. The two are usually on the same level when it comes to battle prowess, but incidents like this happen from time to time, sometimes with injuries even. That was when you noticed it.

Jean’s grip on his rapier is usually firm and steady, but even from that distance you could see that his grip is unstable and shaking. He put his weapon away and helped up Napoleon. You could make out a little of their conversation, and you can tell that Jean is apologizing based from his expression.

“It’s alright. Are you okay now? Did it help—” You couldn’t make out the rest of Napoleon’s response, but it fueled your curiosity even more. Looking back on Jean, he wore a solemn expression as he gently shook his head.

You went to bed still clueless as to what’s going on, but at the very least you confirmed your suspicions– and something’s definitely up with Jean.

In the following days, you couldn’t help but notice that Jean has been avoiding you. Despite living in the same place, the two of you haven’t had some alone time lately and you’re starting to miss him.

However, you respect his boundaries and don’t want to needlessly tempt him, especially after the conversation you had with Napoleon just a few hours ago. Jean hasn’t told him anything directly, but Napoleon believes that the reason why he’s been acting like that lately is that he’s trying to distract himself from desiring you too much, using their sparring sessions to the release pent up energy from holding back too much on you.

Knowing Jean, you knew Napoleon’s assessment wasn’t far from the truth.

You were so distracted with your thoughts and weren’t exactly watching where you were going as you reached a corner and ran straight into your preoccupation, and he caught you in the last second before you fell on your bottom from the impact of the crash.

“J-Jean?” You blurted out then abruptly looked away, afraid that you’re in no condition to hide your feelings that well.

“Mademoiselle? Are you alright?” Jean promptly stood you up, but didn’t let go of your hand.

“Yes. Sorry I wasn’t looking, but thank you for helping me up.” Your voice was as stiff as your current posture. After a few seconds of awkward silence, you finally pulled your hand. “I’ll be on my way-”

“Mademoiselle,” Jean caught you by your wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding. “There’s something bothering you.”

You dropped your head in frustration and awaited his next words.

“Do you mind telling me so I can–”

“That’s not very fair of you Jean, because you’ve been avoiding me and you haven’t even told me why.” You looked him dead in the eye as you cut him off and voiced out your distress. Jean visibly tensed at your words, his serene expression immediately overtaken by one of remorse.

After a few moments of contemplation, Jean finally found his words. He knelt on one knee as he expressed his honest feelings. “I wasn’t lying when I expressed my desire to be stronger so I can better protect you… but I’m afraid that the one I need to protect you from the most is myself.”

As much as Jean’s chivalric gesture makes you feel like you’re in a fairytale, you can’t stand looking down on him as he wore that contrite expression, so you pulled him up and threw your arms around him.

“I just want your love, Jean. I’m all yours... so there’s really no need to protect me from yourself.” Your eyes glistened with a mixture of yearning and loneliness, drawing a sad smile from your lover.

Jean simply returned your embrace and said nothing more, but later on he spent the night on your room, making amends, making love to you, allowing himself some leniency to be honest with his own dark feelings and just savor the heated moments… even if it’s just for once in a while.

Perhaps it’s going to take some time before Jean’s principles as a knight comes into terms with his feelings, but it’s a battle that will eventually come to a resolution, and regardless of the outcome… you reassured him that you’ll always be there for him.

Ngl I didn’t realize just how clueless I am about Jean until I had to write this ;w;

More on this series: [[Napoleon]] [[Mozart]] [[Leonardo]] [[Arthur]] [[Vincent]] [[Theodorus]] [[Isaac]] [[Dazai]] [[William]] [[Comte de Saint Germain]] [[Sebastian]] [[Vlad]]

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevamp jean #ikemen vampire jean #ikevamp language of flowers #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction

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wichols · 5 years ago

Note

Haruhi and Mori for the break up? Love your stories!

I am so sorry for anyone that reads this. It is gonna be a sad one. This was a tough one to write especially after reading such a sweet Mori x Haruhi fic. I hope that you are able to see the honor in his actions and his devotion to the one he loves the most. Thanks for the prompt!

Unyielding Devotion (Mori x Haruhi)

Mixed flora scents swirled around her as she made her way through the Morinozuka family botanical gardens. Sounds of light foot faults joined nature’s rhythmic symphony displayed around her. Vibrant hues of flowers and greenery lined the path leading to the secluded gazebo.

“Takashi? What’s wrong?” Her soften eyes searched his features, looking for any indication of his obvious discomfort.

Padding the open space of the bench beside him, “sit.”

“Taka?” Pleading eyes were transfixed on his furrowed brow. Gentle sounds of the stream fill the quiet air between them.

Hesitantly, he reached over enveloping her small hand in his, concentrating on the physical connection to give him strength. “I have loved you since the moment you walked through those doors. However, cliche that seems. From that point, my heart has only yearned for you more and more as we spent time together. I know I am not as animated as Tamaki or as cunning as Kyoya or lighthearted like the twins or cutsie like Mitsukuni but I have appreciated the ways you have noticed my forms of affection.” Shifting his gaze to look into her eyes, he continued. “Besides Mitsukuni, you are the only other person I have allowed past my walls into the center of my world. You understand my intentions and the way I am called to live my life dedicated to representing my family with honor and loyalty. Each day since the first, you have chosen to see past my flaws and allow me to grow into an even better person within the space of your heart. Dating you the past two years has singlehandedly been the greatest years of my life thus far. My college experience would be lackluster without you learning beside me.”

“Oh, you do not have to thank me for that. Sharing life with you is not a chore or something painful, it is a gift I freely give to you and one that you reciprocate back to me. You are allowed to grow and growing is not always linear or easy. Why are you saying all these things?”

“I just-”

“Are you- are you proposing? You know you don’t have to do anything grand, right? I will gladly accept even though we kind of agreed we would wait till I finished next year.” Haruhi’s eyes flicked between their hands and his eyes waiting for him to get down on one knee.

“I- uh..um. Just, uh, let me finish before you say anything else.” Giving her hand a small squeeze.

“Okay, continue.” Allowing herself a small smile, she was trying to tamper down her excited feelings.

“I want you to have the freedom to choose your destiny. To carve out your path and to explore everything this world has to offer you. There is nothing in this world that will stop you from accomplishing anything you put your mind too. Not money. Not a lack of connections. Not gender stereotypes. You are a strong and powerful person in your own right and it would be foolish of me to ask you to wait for me to return.”

“Return? What do you mean return?”

The looming pit in his stomach grew as he watched confusion sweep across her face. Her joyful demeanor dimmed as the uncertainty grew between them.

“I will have to be away for a while before I am able to complete the transition as Morinozuka heir. As tradition dictates, my father has given me my final transition orders to be executed effective the day after graduation.” His voice tapered off to a whisper.

“So you have to leave for a couple of weeks?” She questioned.

“Months.”“A couple of months?”

“Twelve to be exact.”

“You have to leave for a year! Why? Where?” Her voice switched between panic and anger as she fired off question after question.

Mori winced at her sudden outburst. Feeling the sudden emptiness of his hand he watched as she paced before him. Immediately he felt the air shift around him.

“I come out here and you say all these wonderful things about me. You fill my heart with love and then you drop that on me? What gives?!? Just a little bit ago I was under the impression that you were proposing not leaving for a year!” The usual tone of her voice was clipped with irritation.

“I was only told a week ago.”

“But you knew something like this was a possibility for a while now, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to tell me until right now? Hell Takashi! Graduation is three weeks away! That means between right now and graduation we only hand a handful of days left to share with each other.” Furry morphed into sadness as she took her seat back next to him.

Bringing his hand to her face he angled her chin upwards to press a kiss into her lips. “I will love you even when I am away. I do not expect you to feel the same way about me now as you might after I return. In my absence, I want you to continue to focus on those passions that ignite your soul. When I return, if your feelings have not changed then we can rekindle our relationship. But if I return and you do not reciprocate those feelings that you once had for me then I understand.” Cradling her head in his hands he wiped away the silently falling tears.

“I don’t understand. Are you wanting to break up?” Tears now flowed freely between them speckling the concrete bench below them.

His heart seized, pained from the brokenness of her voice. “While I am away I cannot have any contact from the outside world. No phone calls, no letters, no visits with the exception of preparations for my internship at the conclusion of the monastery stay. I cannot keep you for myself if I am not even here. There is no honor in holding the ones we love most back from their potential just because of our own selfish reasons. It is because I love you that I have to release you. This is part of my journey. To understand the burden it takes to live a life fully dedicated to honor and obedience I must subject myself fully to the traditions of the namesake I bear.”

“So you are breaking up with me because of your love towards me?”

“Yes.”

“So at best, after the year is completed and our feelings have not changed we pick up where we left off.”

“And at worst our feelings for one another have changed and we go our separate ways. I become the head of the Morinozuka family at the conclusion of my wedding and you complete your degree, pass the bar, and prepare for your internship.”

“Oh, Taka.”

“I know. I’m so sorry Haru-love.”

Quiet sobs were shared between them as the elder Morinozuka watch the scene play before him. Oh Takashi, the one to whom your heart has claimed will not stray away from you. For she too has a love that is an all-consuming flame that burns brightly within her heart. Time will not change her devotion towards you just as your mother’s love did not falter during my absence. Take heart, my son. He let his gaze linger a while longer as they held each other close, weeping into the arms of the other.

#haruhi fujioka #mori x haru #Haruhi x Mori #takashi morinozuka #ouran host club #OHSHC #ohshc fanfiction #ouran high school host club #100 hits bingo

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ttomatoez · 6 years ago

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Anata no Koe

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13125325/1/Anata-no-Koe

Summary: "The one who filled his lonely existence with the emotion called love was Sakura." - Kishimoto. Post-war, SasuSaku fluff and bonding.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Rating: T

A/N: I’m super new to tumblr (as far as posting goes), but I’ve always gotten my ff recommendations from this site, so I thought I’d post some of my own work here to share it with you guys! One day I hope to live up to the same standard as all the wonderful ff I’ve read over the years, but in the meantime, I do hope you enjoy this fic. :)

-CH. 1: 白詰草 - White Clover

She looks happier; peaceful, even.

It's the first thing he notices as he watches her emerge from the shadows outside his holding cell, wordlessly following the brush of her pink hair against the curve of her neck with his mismatched eyes as she steps down the stairs into the light.

He can already tell she's calmed down a lot. There's a softness to her features that he hasn't seen on her before, but he thinks he likes it. He likes the grace in which she walks in her heeled sandals, diligently focused on the metal tray full of first-aid supplies nestled in her arms (as if somehow the pair of quivering glass bottles are what she's been chasing after for so many years and not him). His gaze lingers, calm and curious on the angle of her jaw as she bends to place the tray on one of the visitors stools. It must be the serene expression on her face that's making his chest tighten. The natural arch of her brow leading down to the curve of her lashes, blinking softly. Or the warm half-smile at her lips that could just as easily be a smirk if only he were able to reach into her mind and access her thoughts.

"Sasuke-kun," she says lightly. The shy smile at her lips is soothingly familiar, but it's contradicted by the concerned pinch of her brows as she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

The smile is fake. She's upset.

For the moment, all is still and silent in the hollow, underground caves that have contained him over the past day and a half as they stare at each other in silence. Foreign chakra flickers like static around the otherwise ordinary steel bars, likely sealed three or more times to keep him from escaping. It would take a lot more than that to lock him up for more than five minutes, but he hasn't said anything about it. The drive to fight is lost on him now, discarded right along with his left arm and whatever else remained of his inner demons back at the valley of the end. If he still has any negative feelings buried underneath the numbness in his heart, he hasn't noticed. All that's left of his former self now is an empty shell, a broken bird with the world at its throat.

He looks away discretely, jaw tightening in frustration and shame, absorbing all the unspoken feelings smoldering in her gaze from the other side of the bars. She doesn't have to say anything for him to see what's inside her heart. There's so many conflicting emotions there: disappointment, confusion, anger, hurt, fear, but most of all concern. Concern, not for herself but for him. He's seen the same gut-wrenching pain reflected in her jade eyes over the course of several years, always born from the consequences of his selfish actions, always so selflessly forgiving... It's hard not to recognize it on a surface level - it's Sakura, after all - but without the blind rage and adrenaline-fueled hatred there to cloud his perceptions, he feels it start to gently penetrate the walls of his heart in a way that he can only describe as uncomfortable. For the first time, he can't bring himself to look at her.

She looks off nervously as well, following suit, the smile on her lips settling into an even line. What he may not realize is that over the years, she's become an expert at interpreting all of his non-verbal gestures. If he knows what's in her heart, she knows what's festering in his equally as well (to some extent), but she knows him well enough not to bring it up. For him to simply acknowledge her feelings like this is enough of an apology for right now, so she doesn't mind returning the favor by not pressuring him for more. Maybe someday they'll both be comfortable with expressing themselves out loud, but that day isn't today.

"How's your arm?" she asks, attempting to steer the conversation along. The bandages around his stump are still fresh from when she first put them on a day or so ago while he and Naruto were still unconscious. She did her best to close the opening, cauterizing it with chakra before covering it in healing ointment and wrapping it in several layers of thin gauze, but she knew that the blood would begin to build up again at some point and she would need to come back and change it.

That's what the first-aid supplies are for.

"It stings," he mumbles, glancing at it as if it belonged to someone else.

"Ahh," A genuine smile curls at her lips that he doesn't see. "It'll do that."

Behind him she's already started shuffling the items around in the tray, ripping the gauze into sheets and wetting them with saline. At first it's little more than background noise but curiosity gets the better of him eventually, and he finds himself once again quietly following her movements as if he were a child drinking in new information.

At one time, it must have been around age thirteen, he remembered his distaste for the pinkette had been so strong that he swore he wouldn't touch her if she were the last woman on the planet. He used to find creative places to eat lunch and take shortcuts through the forest just to avoid talking to her, but that had been a different Sakura the whole time. This Sakura; the one with sparkling green studs in her ears who's taller and blinks slower when having a conversation. This Sakura who is not so helplessly clumsy, who measures liquids with her lips slightly parted and barely looks at him anymore, even if it's just long enough to see all the minor ways in which he's changed in such a short amount of time. What would his younger self say if he saw the woman she is now?

They make eye contact as she carefully gathers the tray back into her arms. It feels electric - almost as if nothing ever happened between them in the first place - and she finds herself melting under the smoldering intensity of his gaze. Part of her yearns to know what he's hiding from her; the interest is there, taunting her from the depths of his natural eye. Burning, unyielding. It's the same look she recognizes from the battlefield when he'd caught her delicately under his arm, drinking her in as she drifted in and out of consciousness. At the time she assumed it was love, or at least something like it, but she was wrong.

She looks away for the second time, severing the connection faster than the heat can finish rushing into her face.

"Your bandages need to be changed every two days to prevent infection," she says evenly. The door to his cell would be hell to open for him, but it opens easily enough for her, allowing her to slip through and close it back behind her without ever coming close to dropping the tray. "Right now I'm doing it, but you should be able to yourself after a few sessions - oh, you don't have to stand, Sasuke-kun!"

It's as if she'd anticipated the pain, because by the time the stabbing sensation reaches his chest through his back, she's already lightly dropped the items and rushed to his side to hold him up.

"Here," she says, guiding him back to the wooden bench he was sitting on before. "Sit."

He's sure he must look like an old man, but that's really the least of his worries as he clutches his shirt tightly with the only hand he has left. The pain is similar to what he imagines it feels like to be stabbed by a fistful of chidori; duller and more achey but similar. Is it even possible to feel internal bleeding? Sakura answers his questions with her eyes faster than he can ask them.

"Lean back and relax," she says - it's really more of an instruction - as the pain slowly starts to recede, decaying gradually under the green hue of her chakra pressed to his chest. "I knew there was going to be a little bit of pain from muscle exhaustion, but I healed every major issue I saw when we found you."

Her hands are soft in contrast to the hardened look on her face, slim pink brows drawn together in concentration. The chakra pouring into him is light like a caress, and as more of the pain starts to disappear, he even catches the sweet scent of flowers that's probably her shampoo.

"Sakura-" he grinds out.

"Hush."

He gives her hand a squeeze. At first she thinks it's for comfort, instantly taking her back to their struggles in the chunin exams, but she realizes too late that he's actually pulling it away.

"Just leave it," he says.

Her frown deepens as she slips her hand from his grip. On her face are the words I don't understand.

"Sasuke-" she responds, omitting the honorific. "You're in pain."

When he doesn't look at her she knows there's something else there, but it's not the normal, everyday 'tsk', or 'you're annoying'. It's something deeper; something he probably doesn't even fully comprehend himself. He has a terrible track record of suffering in silence, which is something that has always annoyed her about him, but she continues to try and help him regardless. Even when he doesn't want it.

Her jade eyes blink at him for a few seconds, grasping for the tools to understand but receiving nothing. He's panting lightly now, and there's even a faint tic forming at his brow indicative of frustration.

"At least let me-"

"Sakura."

Naturally, she doesn't make it any easier for him to forget she's there.

The next few seconds pass by wordlessly. He wishes he knew what to say to make her stop worrying, but worrying for Sakura is like breathing and there's probably nothing he can do that will make the medic in her disappear. It's annoying, genuinely, but in a way that's justified by the part of him that isn't quite so wrapped up in his own stubbornness. In other words, his inner self; the part of him that's sealed under strict lock and key and that's often overpowered by his outward persona. The real Sasuke is a lot more docile and caves easily whenever she appears upset or needy. He's calm and curious at the same time but still excitable, much like his older brother, with a rather long-standing, subconscious need to love and be loved by someone that won't eventually disappear. Sakura has the ability to give him that, but that's perhaps what scares him the most about her.

He feels her shoulder shuffle against him and hazards a glance, only to find her pouting like a schoolgirl, lips slightly pursed, eyes downcast and focused on something in the distance. He can't help but look at her skeptically, a small smirk forming on his lips; the last time he saw that face, it was on a much younger version of herself. A much more energetic and aggressive version that once loved him with the strength of her entire being. Always chasing after him, dying for reciprocation. It's funny how simply seeing him in pain is enough to make her forget about all of those conflicting emotions he saw in her earlier. Now she's back to being Sakura again; the same girl that held him in her arms through all of his recklessness, shedding countless tears over his well-being and selflessly shouldering his pain whenever he lacked the ability to express it. She was there even when it put herself in danger. Even when he was the one doing it to her...

He leans his head back and sighs, resting his neck on the padding. The pain in his chest has dulled; he's starting to acclimate to it.

"I deserve it, Sakura," he says finally. "For what I've done."

Her eyes are on him again as he studies the intricate patterns decorating the cave ceiling. Before she speaks, she takes a second to think.

A statement like that is hard to deny when she considers how much trouble he's caused; how many people have lost their lives, directly and indirectly, as a result of his actions. It wasn't even that long ago that he'd betrayed them all completely, punching her through the gut and into a genjutsu. And if that isn't enough of a reason, he then threatened to take control of all the shinobi villages at all of their expense.

As if they meant nothing to him... As if she meant nothing.

The question of whether to forgive him or not weighed heavily on her at some point several months ago - she grieved for a full year when he left the village - but she's past the point of hating him now she thinks. Hatred is like a very strong poison, silent and contagious; it's what drove him to do most of what he did in the first place, but like all poisons, there's an antidote by the name of love. She decided a long time ago not to follow in that cycle, if she were even able to at all. If Naruto doesn't hate him, then neither does she.

He flinches at the sudden warmth of her fingers sliding over his knuckles to grasp his hand. It's such a foreign feeling that he figures it has to be an accident and attempts to tug it back, but (surprise) she doesn't let him go.

"What about if I have mercy on you then?" she replies to his earlier comment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He doesn't realize how deadly he looks right now as he flicks his gaze on her, pinning her there with the weapons that are his eyes as if to say what are you doing? Sakura thinks that in his confusion he looks somewhat like a caged animal preparing to pounce at the slightest wrong touch, but it's strikes her more as cute than frightening. Sasuke's panic response has always been defensive rage, but the circumstances are in her favor this time since he's stuck here with her for the immediate time-being. Unbeknownst to her though, he's long forgotten the question.

Before he realizes it he's tracing her movements again, watching her like a hawk as she grasps his hand in both of her palms, slowly bringing it up to rest on her cheek. To his surprise, she closes her eyes, nuzzling it gently as if it's something precious to her.

...

His eyes widen. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is too dry.

"We missed you Sasuke-kun," she says as her eyelids carefully lift to reveal a pair of somber green eyes, glistening now from welled up tears, still clutching his hand to her cheek. It's not that he's afraid to move it - maybe he would if he could - but his body has locked up entirely against his will. He can't move it.

"We all missed you, and-" There's that same bashful look again. How is it possible that he's the only one making eye contact? "W-We forgive you...ya know..?"

Her hands form nervous fists at her sides, but he doesn't seem to notice. She takes a quick glance at his face; it looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"That message is from all of us," she mumbles, fully aware of the heat spreading over her cheeks. She wishes he would say something; she can't stand the silence as it compels her to keep talking. "Even though you're locked up right now, it's only because Tsunade-sama is still out of the village You're fully pardoned, it's just that the council—ha?"

She jumps slightly, green eyes widening at the feel of his hand sliding slowly down her jaw, taking its time over her neck, before coming to rest on her shoulder.

His grip tightens, clutching her as his head gently lowers, shading his face with his bangs. The urge to pull her into him is so strong he can hardly stand it, but there's still a barrier there that pushes her away with equal force. The walls around his heart are still so impenetrable that sometimes, not even he can override them. No matter how much he wants to feel her head on his shoulder, tears of joy staining his shirt as she clutches him with the intensity he knows she's been repressing under fake smiles and gestures of strength for at least the past few years, he can't seem to make himself move.

"Sasuke-kun?" Her brows furrow gently but part of her is still able to understand. She feels the invisible pull of his heart as if it were made of gravity.

She moves before he has the chance to, gently wrapping her arms around him as if she were a blanket, gathering him into a warm hug that gradually tightens as she tries to hold back the tears that have already started to leak out of the corners of her eyes.

‘We forgive you.’

Somehow he thinks it will take him longer than a few minutes, or even a few days, to soak in those words, but in this moment he's thankful (almost as much as he is overwhelmed) for her presence; her touch, her scent, her voice...

He blinks into her shoulder, arm hovering over her lower back as he moves his head to look at her face. Physically, it feels the same as when she hugged him back at the hospital when they were genin. She's still just as soft and warm and feminine as she was back then, eyes squeezed shut in happiness, latched to him with every ounce of love left in her being. It's always been a lot for him to process - it still is - but he feels more now that he's ever felt in the past. Even as his arm squeezes her closer, softly succumbing to her efforts as he buries his face in her neck, he still feels paralyzed by insecurity and the weight of exactly how much he doesn't know. It's always just been easier to sever the bonds, but he's past that now.

"Sakura," he mumbles into the fabric of her collar, eyes softened and glazed over in concentration.

The past several hours left alone with nothing but his thoughts have had a substantial effect on him, giving him the opportunity to ponder over a litany of things; things that bother him, things that he thinks shouldbother him, things that don't even concern him... Now that the war is over, his goals achieved, he can't help but wonder what to do next. Did he even have a choice in the matter? Sure he's been pardoned, but was he really that innocent in the eyes of the village?

Her cheek brushes the side of his head as she turns to look at him. "Mm?"

He hesitates, closing his eyes against the comfort of her shoulder. "What do you think I should do?" he says. "About the village?"

She tries hard to swallow the sting of uneasiness lingering in her gut as she packs the extra gauze back in its wrapper, tossing his old, bloody ones on the right side of the tray where she'll be able to throw them away later. If only she'd been more prepared for that question, maybe she could have given him a better response than what she did...

‘Don't worry about the village. Worry about being a better you.’

Back over on the bench he looks over his new bandages, gripping his fingers as she'd told him to do to better adjust to the stiff material. Whatever he's thinking in that head of his, somehow, she feels like she only made things worse.

"Thank you, Sakura," he says as she lifts the tray back into her hands, ready to leave. At first she thinks it's just for the bandage change, but it's overreaching and actually applies to multiple things. He has the world to thank her for, but all she can seem to picture right now is the night he left, his words to her, and how she'd woken up to a cold bench at her back and a huge hole in her heart.

"Sasuke-kun," she bites her lip, brows drawing together in concern as she looks at him, at the sudden distance between them.

‘Please be here when I get back.’

"I'll be back in two days," she says, and he watches quietly as she disappears into the shadows, the sweet scent of cherry blossoms lingering in the air.

#sasusaku #naruto shippuden #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku naruto #naruto shippuden fanfiction sasusaku #naruto fanfiction

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tsundere-model · 6 years ago

Text

[Day 27 + Akiomi] One too many tears

It’s become routine, an affair and something far more complex than its ever meant to be. It starts with teaching Izumi how to kiss and he means for that to be the final means of affection, means for it to end. He tells himself he’s merely assisting the model for future work and yet events like these keep occurring.

They meet at his house. One excuse after another. Letters filled with riddles to indicate time and locations and while they play their parts, while they pretend it’s nothing more than a teacher helping a student plan for their success and future it turns into something raw and even intimate the second they’re behind closed doors.

It’s agony not to hold him close for weeks on end, to spend time with him in the evenings and it wears on more than just him. Izumi grows bolder with time and though they try to cope with a need and starve for affection nothing quite douses the flames to mere embers. A night with him simply in his presence does little to smother the flames. It entices them to grow to the point where kisses hardly keep them from spreading further. To hold him against him for just a few hours creates longing and it’s no surprise they lose control soon after.

With a kiss breathes life into curiosity, affection and soon it’s more than a raw need to satisfy a loneliness created by those who cannot love either of them. It turns into its own feeling and a simple desire to be in each others company turns into something deeper. He’s certain he’s always had feelings for the other. Infact, he knows why he’s denied it. He’s his teacher and he’s certain to ruin Izumi Sena’s future by giving into such a frivolous thing as love.

He fights it. Starts to deny the other. Tries to drive him away and even intentionally refuses to wish him well on his birthday. He believes it will serve as the final blow and yet, that night as he sits alone in his own apartment looking over notes of his own he hears an unexpected knock. It’s firm, desperate, and at first he believes it to be Jin stumbling to his doorstep in one of his drunken stupors.

Instead, opening it yields a sight that hurts as much as it chills him to the core. He’s seen Izumi upset before, but to appear crestfallen in his anger is the last thing he expects. To loath him, to avoid him until he graduates. That was a goal shattered the second he pushes himself inside, anger soon swept away by tears as a single question barely reaches his ears.

What did he do wrong?

it’s a slap to the face and he realizes the mistake he’s made the second it registers and processes in his mind. Izumi Sena believes this to be his fault somehow and though he closes and locks the door behind him he finds the actions aren’t nearly long enough for him to form sentences and words before the boy grasps hold of his shirt, pulls himself up enough for their gazes to meet– two kinds of anguish swimming in pools of ice and violet.

He finds he can’t lie. Not when he looks at him like that and though he tries to put some space between himself and the other it does little good when Izumi makes up his mind. He’s not letting him go and they stumble back until his back meets the far wall. He’s not leaving without an answer.

❝I’m going to be what ruins you if you don’t let go and leave me, Izumi Sena.❞ his tone is terse, strain held in the words that quiver and quake like brittle leaves in a harsh wind. He wants to melt the anguish he’s caused, wants to right every wrong he’s put the boy through for weeks.

❝You’ve already done that,❞ he spits venom and Akiomi’s eyes narrow. Dangerous and sharp it’s his turn to grasp ahold of the boy who dares to think this is the worst of it.

Fingers catch fast and press against his face, sweep up into his hair as he holds him in place and for a moment fear yields to any anger he displaces onto Akiomi. His voice is a hiss, pained as he leans in, assertive and unyielding like the boy before him.

❝You have no idea how fast I will ruin your future if I let this go on. I’m your teacher. You’re my student and if I give in to what I want you won’t last a month in the industry you’ve worked so hard to seal a place in. I love you, you foolish child.❞ His voice cracks and he leans down, his kiss firm, filled with anguish and passion.

It’s enough to still the boy, to feel moisture against his fingertips and the shuddering of a body that craves nothing but this. He knows that’s exactly what Izumi wants and it tears at him to be the one to ever hurt him when he wants nothing more than to see him smile.

❝I love you. Do you understand?❞ his voice tears and cracks as he pulls back, lips so close they brush as he speaks, as he meets his gaze that mirrors the torn soul he holds in his hands. ❝I want nothing more than to guarantee your future. You’ve worked so hard to be something. Let me give that one gift to you.❞

❝I don’t want it,❞ a crass response, ruled by pure and raw emotion. ❝you think I can’t make that choice on my own? You think I’m not willing to try to fight for how I feel while you want to throw it away?❞ it’s a shrill yell, every bit of the banshee they tease Izumi at being.

He tries to tear away, tries to shove and struggle. Akiomi’s not one to balk or break and it’s no surprise he ends up with his arms around the other’s frame, securing his front to his chest, to let the other struggle until be breaks into nothing but sobs and a shattered heart.

❝Can you look at me and tell me you love me when I rob you of everything? Can you really blame me from trying to save you from throwing your life away for someone like me?❞ It arrives as a whisper and through anger and accusation it finally seems to sink past a swell of anger.

❝You think I haven’t thought about that too? Why can’t I have you too? Why does it matter who I’m with?❞

They both know the answer and yet Izumi clearly yearns for a lie, the fairy tale. The happily ever after.

❝I’ve done all I can to warn you, but your mind is made up, isn’t it?❞

Izumi looks up, and Akiomi feels his own resolve crumbling, chipped away by months upon months of falling for the one thing he shouldn’t fall for.

❝For your birthday, all I wanted to do was to tell you I love you and…❞ he releases him,, catches Izumi’s hand in his own to pull it up towards his chest. ❝I wanted to ask you to risk everything as I want to. My job, my reputation at the academy. You wouldn’t be the only one to lose everything. You know that too, though. You’ve thought about it as I have. If you’re willing to be with someone like me then you need to realize what that means. If you do, then you’re welcome to stay.❞

They stand in silence for what seems to be a long time and with a huff, eyes puffy from crying he jerks his hand back, sticks his nose up high in the air in sheer defiance.

❝You owe me for ruining my birthday.❞

Despite knowing it’s true he smiles, hands easily pushing him forward and daring to be met with a look that could kill.

❝I had every intention of celebrating your birthday with you until I realized it was too late. I’ve already made you a cake and if you’ll stay the night I’ll start making it up to you.❞ They’re some distance apart and yet he still holds his hand out for the other to take. ❝But understand, if you stay you’ve made your choice. It won’t matter if you leave me in the future, your reputation will always be plagued and ruined if you decide to be with me the way I want to be with you. Are you really ready to risk your hard work for that, Sena?❞

It’s clear he’s already made his mind up in kind. He’s tried to curb the flame, tried to bury how he feels for Izumi’s own sake. It’s evident he cares little about his career if it means having the chance to dance with the devil, but it seems the boy before him already knows what’s on the line.

❝I won’t remind you again, push you away or treat you like this again. In turn, I hope you won’t regret this decision. My only regret is that I didn’t tell you sooner. You deserve the best and if you believe this is what the best is then please stay. If you don’t, I understand.❞

There isn’t a flicker of hesitation, not a moment of question as the youth reaches forward and takes his hand. It’s in those moments he realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he’s become more than a mentor to Izumi. He’s become his world. And just as easily, Izumi has become his.

He thought today was going to be a good day. It was his birthday. The first birthday he’d get to celebrate with someone since he had left the model agency, his relationship with Makoto -and anyone he called a friend- broken into irreparable pieces.

he though he understood the magnitud of what they were doing; the consequence of their actions in the shape of dangers ahead, sacrifices they might have to make. He thought he understood and he thought he had took some distance from him. But he was wrong. he still fell in love, he still craved the contact and wished for the closeness. A plan to meet turning into hours of him waiting, the sweetness of lips a trap he couldn’t escape, the contact of hands a heat he wanted to be burnt by.

He loved him. To a point where he didn’t cared anymore if he had to risk the whole world just to have him. That he wished to be able to wake up in his bed every morning and to be loved thoroughly by him, until there was no part in him that wasn’t already his property.

A spiral of doom they were both caught to, he even forgot to worry, believing his feelings to be the same. How foolish he was -and how easy was that shown to him, the subject of his affections suddenly ignoring all contact and steering away from danger.

The birthday he had hoped to spend together for him turned into a grim reminder of his own loneliness, of how dispensable he was, not even worth the love of one man. As the day went by his own dark feelings taking over, he was desperate the moment he reached his door -unscheduled, unplanned, unwanted. He knew he was going to be kicked out, he knew he’d get nothing from trying but his heart screaming for him to try it.

He slammed the door with his hands until he heard the locks coming undone in the other side and stormed into the room, a rainfall of tears threatening to overcome him, body shaking like a leaf. What had he done wrong? What could he do better? Don’t leave him behind. Don’t abandone him. he can do better... He pulls him close... he interrogates him, spitting his thoughts before he even has time to process them, noticing all the things he has wanted to say but haven’t been able to. And he holds his breath.

He’s told he is loved, and his thoughts go wild. He struggles in the sudden hold of warm arms and whimpers weakly when he realizes he can’t break free -that he doesn’t want to break free. He’s comfortable in his hold -so much he can’t help but want to be there forever, and the tears soon dry out.

His eyes are red from crying -he can tell from the aching in them- when he finally looks up pleading for an answer. Yet refusing to hear any but the one he wants. He is still a child, believing in fairy tails and happy ever afters, but he is not ignorantly diving into it.

And when he gets the chance for it, he reaches out to that hand without hesitation. he loves him, probably in the same way he is loved, and he can’t agree to the faked justice that insists he shouldn’t be allowed to love him.

“I love you” he whispers, eventually leaving the hand to go for a hug, to plead for a kiss. to cross once more the boundary that has been weak in stopping them, probably from the very start.

#seriousnotes #izumi bday countdown 2k18 #(( I JUST REALIZED I DON'T HAVE A SHIP TAG FOR THEM YET I NEED TO THINK OF ONE #(( anyway thank you sm for this i love them so much and this gave me the feels (tm)#(( it's also so beautifully written i didn't wanted to ruin it writing too much on my part afgsha #(( thanks again ahhh #submission

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