#oblivious idiots to still oblivious but brave idiots
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Food for thought
âIâm so glad you came,â Potter said with that look on his face. Draco felt himself clam, go small-small-small until his nose barely cleared the line of his shoulders.
âItâs,â he tried through a too-dry mouth, âno problem, really. Happy I could help.â
âI donât know why it keeps doing that,â scratching the back of his neck with those big Potter-hands. The grandfather clock had been in the Black house for centuries. Now it was showing the right time again, and also, conveniently, no longer throwing darts at bystanders. âI swear it was working this morning.â
âTruly, a mystery.â Draco levelled a scathing glance at Pansy, who was sitting at the counter with a far-too-neutral expression. âPans, if you wouldnât mind, a word?â
He dragged her out to the corridor, only barely not by the ear. She had the audacity to smile. âEverything all right, dear?â
âNone of that,â in a heated whisper. âThatâs the third, Pans. How many times would you break Potterâs things just to have him call me?â
âIf youâd bothered calling him yourself, I wouldnât have to.â
âPansy Parkinson!â
âDraco Malfoy.â Examining her fingernails with an exaggerated yawn. âAre you suggesting Iâm messing with my own colleague? I would never.â
He rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt. âYouâre not fooling anyone. Did you forget I actually know you? Potter does too. Soon enough heâll figure outââ
âThat he simply must take you on a date? Iâd hoped so, yes.â With a cheeky wink: âGot to go, my showâs about to start. Weâll catch up later, yes? Still on for drinks on Friday?â and she left, the corridor and a flushed, slightly hyperventilating Draco, alone in Potterâs place.
âErm, Draco?â from the kitchen. âI think I mightâve made too much pasta. Stay for dinner?â
Oh, heâs going to kill that woman.
After dinner, that is.
*
âYouâre a life-saver,â Potter murmured, pretty mouth hanging open. On the sofa, Seamus was smiling so smugly, Draco could punch him.
Didnât. Stood there, made himself small and wished to be not-here, not-now. âIt really was no problem. The windows should shut properly now. Have you tried,â but it was useless, he knew why the windows were jammed, and it wasnât poor maintenance.
His âfriendsâ were just out to get him.
Suppose they thought it was funny? Suppose⊠Draco didnât know. Tried to curtail his mortification at being summoned here, again, in another attempt to humiliate him.
Thatâs what they were doing, right? Thatâs what this was all about. They knew how he felt about Potter, nothing was more obvious. It was there in pub nights and on their stupid hikes and that time they all went to the beach, it was in Dracoâs eyes, in his hands always reaching out, never touching.
âThanks,â Potter said, for the third time. âYouâre so⊠Itâs really fucking kind of you to. Take care of me.â
Startled, âI donâtâitâs just your windows, Potter. Thereâs no reason to get all sentimental.â
A loud noise: Seamus, snorting. âYou boys are such a mess.â Shaking his head. âAnyway, this was fun. See you two Saturday!â and he disappeared, cartoon-quickly.
(Dracoâs been watching cartoons recently. Mostly with Potter, late at night after their friends would leave; sometimes by himself, wearing the jumper heâd stolen and feeling rather pathetic).
âAre you by any chance hungry?â Potter asked from a surprisingly-short distance. He was right there, close enough to touch. Tittering on his tip-toes, like he had any reason to be nervous. âItâs only, Iâve ordered far too much food, and Seamus just. Erm. Left.â
Draco folded inwards, made himself as small as possible, so it wonât start leaking out, all this⊠foolishness. It was stupid. It would break his heart.
He stayed anyway.
*
âThank you so much,â Potter rubbed his eyes, this half-grin on his awful, handsome face. âI donât know whatâs wrong with this house. I think it hates me.â
âI think someone does,â with a murderous look to Ginevra, who not only smirked, but also made a point of coming to see for herself. The cooker had stopped frying everything to a crisp, and should be safe to use again. Big whoop.
âThatâs some quick spellwork,â she hit his shoulder far too hard. âDidnât know you were so good with these.â
âReally,â incredulous. âYou didnât know.â
âAnd how lucky, that Malfoy could come over so quickly?â she looked between Potter and him. âMaybe you should move in. Easier for the next time something bends out of shape.â
Draco didnât splutter, because he was an adult, but he must have looked rather pinched. âThere wonât be a next time.â
âIâm so sorry,â Potter sounded miserable, standing there in his too-tight Quidditch top and those joggers that always rode too low, âgod, Draco, Iâm sorry Iââ
âNo!â he cleared his throat, had no hope of clearing his face of that awful, telling blush. âNo, itâs absolutely fine. I donât mind! I meant, I hope your things stop breaking all the time for no reason.â
âOh. Donât worry about it. I, erm, accidentally made too much curry, soâGin, you were saying you canât stay?â
Dracoâs belly made a terrible gurgle. Oh, heâs going to kill all of them. Closing his eyes, he missed some of the encounter, and probably an evil grin from Ginevra.
âDraco?â Potter came closer, and he smelled like lemongrass and thyme, and like Potter, and like summer, âWould, erm, would you like to stay for dinner?â
Why were the gods testing him this way? He tried to go small-small-small till he wasnât noticeable anymore, but Potter was too close and Dracoâs heart was crushed open. The weight of his want, which had to be so clear on his face, this absolute agony. And nothing he could say but, âYes, yes,â and hide behind his fingers, and endure it.
The worst part was, Potter was a great cook.
No: the worst was at the end of the night, when he kissed his cheek so, so gently.
Draco went home, and buried himself in his duvet, and swore to never play the fool in these games anymore.
*
âThis is so embarrassing,â Potter announced into his hands, âI donât know what happened, it just. Wonât quit it.â
His shower curtains were singing. Non-stop.
âI,â Draco swallowed, and his ribs nearly cracked with it, âdidnât k-know you were such a⊠big Celestina fan.â
Couldnât hold it in: laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter was laughing too, shoulders heaving, so bright and so wonderful Dracoâs teeth ached. They both ended up on the floor, winded and flushed. Draco loved him so much it was frightening.
âI,â he almost said it out loud, covered his mouth with a hand.
âWhat?â Potter, laughing. He took Dracoâs hand with both of his, tried to pull it away, âWhat, what were you going to say?â
âNothing!â in a tiny squeak. âPotter!â when he basically climbed in his lap, still laughing, laughing.
âYou have to tell me. I made your favourite biscuits, so you have to.â
âYouâdid?â confused and bright-red in the face, âWhy? Was someone supposed to come tonight?â
Potterâs eyes were so big. âNo?â
âSo why did youâŠâ Potter always had too much food not due to a lack of planning, but his heart, that huge thing. âYou cook when someone comes over.â
âYes,â Potter agreed. He was so close and so warm. Baffling.
âSo who did you bake the biscuits for?â who was responsible for this eveningâs prank, he meant, for this torment. Whom should he thank or perhaps curse. Potter blinked his pretty eyelashes, then one big hand came to cup Dracoâs face.
âYou,â he said. This tiny, shy voice. âI made them for you. I was hoping youâd come. Might have⊠erm⊠cursed the curtains a bit.â
Draco would have gasped, but Potterâs hand on his cheek. âWhat?â
âWell⊠you never come when I invite you, only when somethingâs broken, and I, I, wanted to see you.â
No, that didnât clarify anything. âWhy?â Draco asked, and his voice was small too.
Potter huffed something warm on his face. âBecause I like you, silly. You must have noticed? Everyone else did. Theyâve been driving me bonkers and⊠they were right. I should have just been honest with you.â
His heart was racing, raucous in his chest. âYou know theyâve been playing us. The clock, the windows, the cooker, everything that went wrong, it was them.â
âNot this time,â Potter said. His mouth was so close, so red and so stupidly gorgeous. Coming even closer. âDraco, can IâŠâ
Instead of making himself smaller, Draco went big. Chest expanding, arms sending out and reaching, touching. He kissed Potter before the stupid git could even move, and then they were snogging, wet and sloppy on the bathroom floor.
It was stupid. It was perfect. Behind them, the curtain were still humming: a cauldron full of hot, hot loveâŠ
Had to stay for biscuits, right?
For my lovely @orange-peony who gave me a brilliant prompt from this list. Hey, you could do it too!
#drarry fic#prompts#1.5k#PINING PINING PINING#Draco who's longing so much he's half sick#and Harry who can't get enough of him#meddling friends#oblivious idiots to still oblivious but brave idiots#rockingrobin69
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I can't stop thinking of Logan. With a reader who has no/very little experience with dating
Iâm talking no relationship other than the one âboyfriendâ you have when youâre twelve that you dump in a week because boys are gross.
And this is absolutely me projecting, but when you go so long without having anyone attracted, or interested in you, it fucks with your brain. You start wondering whatâs wrong with you, why no one seems to want you, you try everything but still. And you watch everyone around you have their teenage love stories, and canât help but feel like youâre missing out on that, and can't help but blame yourself. Because there must be something wrong with you if no one wants you
So when Logan seems to be interested in you, you donât think it can be real. Donât think a guy as handsome, and sexy, and brave and strong and wonderful as he is can be interested in you.
(And this next bit is specifically for my chubby readers) You look at the other girls on the team, and yeah youâve been told multiple times that youâre gorgeous, and stunning and pretty by your friends, but you look at their flat stomachs and thigh gaps and the way they fill out their costumes perfectly, and you wonder why on Earth Logan would ever want someone like you when he could have someone like them. And conclude it's a joke of some kind.
And maybe you talk too much, rambling about something only to stop in the middle when you realize not a single person is listening to you.
Logan on the other hand? Has no fucking clue how someone hasnt snatched you up yet. Because to him you are absolutely fucking incredible. Youâre kind, sweet and gentle. Youâre clever and talented and absolutely stunning. He loves looking at you, at how soft and beautiful you are, loves listening to you talk, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.
So when you first whirl on him, telling him to stop flirting with you, it isnât a funny joke anymore, nearly in tears, heâs genuinely dumbfounded.
And let's get one thing straight. This man is not oblivious. He looks at more than he seems to. Notices the way you stare longingly at Jean and Scott, or Rogue and Gambit, at couples in public. See the way you suck in your tummy when around the team in costume, or the way you crop yourself out of pictures in uniform. Notices the way your face falls when youâre talking (And heâs listening, of course he's listening, he loves hearing you talk), and everyone just ignores and talks over you. He notices, and he hates it.
So when you explain, pouring out all your doubts and insecurities and fears, he listens patiently, before gently saying.
âMost people are fuckin idiots. You think I give a shit about if you have a tummy or if you talk too much or if you haven't done this before? Youâre fucking stunning to me, prettiest thing in the world. I want you, darlinâ. And nothings ever gonna change thatâ
And how can you not kiss him after that?
Long story short, Logan might be your first boyfriend, but he's also going to be your first husband.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x chubby reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan wolverine#logan howlett drabble
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sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!
Omggg I love this!!!! Thank you for sending me this đ
Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female)
Fluff. Hurt & Comfort. Friends to lovers. 2k words. Unrequited love/pining in the beginning. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end (Yuuji gets his happy end with Megumi). Mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear
Sukuna can only shake his head at the irony. He is in love. He is fucking in love for the first time in his life, and of course, it has to be someone he cannot have! Out of everyone at this stupid college, it has to be the girl who likes his brother!
If it were any other guy, Sukuna wouldn't give a fuck and just flirt like hell with the girl he wants and give his best to steal her away from that other guy. But the problem is that Itadori Sukuna might be an asshole, but he isn't the type of asshole that would steal his brother's girl.
So Sukuna swallows down his heartbreak and forces himself to hold back, refusing to stand in the way of his baby brother's happiness. Sukuna might only be three minutes older, but he is still the big bro, still the one who sees it as his responsibility to look after his "little" brother. And Yuuji deserves it. He deserves a girl like you. He deserves your love. Sukuna will stay strong. He can do it.
But what Sukuna didn't take into account is how completely oblivious his brother is to your feelings.
You follow Yuuji around like a lost puppy, giving him hearteyes, practically swooning anytime he smiles his sunshine smile, hanging on his lips when he talks about his movie-directing classes and his new favorite TV show. But Yuuji doesn't seem to notice. And it makes Sukuna so mad! It drives him crazy! He almost spits his drink out when his brother gives you a high five and calls you "bro".
Sukuna feels sick to his stomach when he watches you wring your hands and shyly ask Yuuji if he maybe wants to go to the cinema with you to see the newest Human Earthworm movie. That super trashy horror series that Yuuji is always gushing about, which Sukuna is 99% sure you don't really like but only want to endure for the boy you have a big crush on.
But Sukuna's oblivious idiot of a brother just laughs and nods, happy that someone shares his taste, and totally misses the point,
"Yes, that's perfect! Let's also ask Megumi and Nobara to join us! Let's all go together! It will be so much fun!"
Sukuna thinks he can not only feel his own heart ache but also yours as he sees your face fall even while you force yourself to nod bravely and smile a sad smile at Yuuji.
It takes everything in Sukuna not to say something. But his restraint only lasts until he is alone with his brother. The moment the others have left, he shoves Yuuji into the wall, grabs his collar, and growls at him,
"You are so fucking dumb, brat! I would give anything to be in your shoes, but you don't even see that she wants you!"
And Yuuji blinks at him, all big eyes and completely confused,
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Sukuna lets go of Yuuji, slumping against the wall next to him, sighing and explaining the situation to him. How Sukuna likes you, and how you like Yuuji, and how everything is such a mess, and how much he hates it, especially when his little brother is too blind to see what he could have!
"Now you know, brat. Go, get her. Just don't rub it in my face, ok? I'll stay away as much as possible."
Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, about to run away and hide in some dark corner or maybe find someone to fuck and distract him from all this shit. But to his utter surprise, Yuuji's hand darts out and grabs Sukuna's sleeve.
"Wait, Kuna! I don't even have those kinds of feelings for her! There is... um... well, there is actually someone else I like."
He stands there, scratching his neck, looking sheepishly at Sukuna and blushing a bit as Sukuna stares at him with question marks in his eyes.
"Who??"
"Um, he has black hair and likes dogs and... ah shit."
And Sukuna can't help it. He bursts out laughing, doubling over because this is just so fucking dumb and messy and getting more complicated every second, and he probably should have known!
"Damn, brat, that really sounds like you! Falling for your best friend!"
In the end, Sukuna plays matchmaker for Yuuji and Megumi. It's easy, considering the way Fushiguro has been looking at Yuuji since the first day he met him. And yeah, Sukuna is not only doing it because he loves his baby brother but also because of selfish reasons. Because it means you will have to let go of your crush on Yuuji. Not that Sukuna thinks you will turn to him, but at least he won't have to watch you date his brother and pretend he doesn't care!
It feels like someone is stabbing Sukuna's heart when he watches your face twist in pain at the next party when you see Yuuji walking into the room with Megumi's hand in his.
But it will be fine! After all, Sukuna is here to catch you and mend your broken heart again. As a friend, at least.
He quickly follows you when you leave the room and run towards the backyard. You sit down on the slightly damp grass, and Sukuna joins you, sitting silently next to you while tears run down your cheeks. Sukuna offers you his half-smoked cigarette, and when your eyes meet, he can't help but think that surely you must see the pain in his eyes, too.
He quickly takes a sip from the bottle he is holding to hide the emotions threatening to swallow him while silently cursing himself for following you out here. He misjudged how fucking hard it is to look at you when you are crying. If only Sukuna could just close the distance between you and claim you as his, just kiss all your pain and his pain away.
But of course, he knows it would be too soon. For once in his life, Sukuna doesn't just want to be a one-night stand or a rebound or a revenge fuck or whatever. For once in his life, he wants more. He wants everything.
And so Sukuna is patient. Just offers you his silent company, his cigarette, his bottle of vodka, and his leather jacket when it gets chilly, and you start to shiver. He offers you his friendship, his protection, and the kind of comfort he can give without fucking you. He drives you home, makes sure you have something to eat and get some sleep.
He bangs on your door three days later when you still haven't come back to campus, calling you a brat and an idiot because it's the only way he knows how to show his worry. But he hopes he's making it better by shoving a vanilla latte and a bag with muffins from your favorite coffee shop into your hands.
Your eyes look puffy from crying, and you seem confused about what he is doing here, but you take the food and coffee from him. And Sukuna smirks at you and refuses to leave when you tell him you look like hell and don't want him to see you like that.
"I don't care, princess. Eat those damn muffins and drink your latte before it gets cold. I didn't stand in line for half an hour for you to just ignore my treats. And by the way, you always look pretty to me."
He stays until you had breakfast and took a shower, coming back to the living area with a soft,
"Thank you, Sukuna. It was nice of you to bring me muffins and coffee."
Sukuna finally leaves, lifting one tattooed hand to casually wave at you as if his heart isn't about to burst because he wants to pull you against his chest and hold you and tell you he can make you happy again.
He skips some of his classes and instead goes to the gym, working out like a madman and beating up a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think about how sad you looked and how fucking much he wants to kiss it better.
He comes back the next day to pick you up and take you to the coffee shop with him, making sure you leave the house and join the living again! It cannot be that you are crying your eyes out in your room all day!
"Stop complaining and get your bratty ass off the couch! It will be good for you to get some fresh air and shit. I am warning you if you don't put on shoes in the next 30 seconds, I will make you walk to the coffee shop in socks!"
Oh yes, Sukuna is good at this. Acting grumpy and playing the asshole while taking care of you and making sure you are ok. And somehow, you are the only one, apart from his brother, who can see right through him because you roll your eyes and laugh softly and tell him that he is the nicest asshole you have ever met.
The two of you fall into a routine where Sukuna picks you up every morning and has breakfast with you before he walks you to your first class. You constantly grow closer, and Sukuna feels his mask slipping more often around you. His typical arrogant smirk softens into a genuine smile. His snide comments turn into compliments. He isn't sure if he is doing it by accident or intentionally. Maybe he is only reacting to the way you act around him.
Because your gaze doesn't follow his brother anymore. Your face doesn't fall when you see Yuuji with Megumi. Your smile doesn't falter when you spot pink hair and realize it's the bad boy twin with the tattoos and not the good boy twin with the sunshine smile. Sukuna even feels like your smile is growing brighter when you look at him.
Could it be?
And he notices more things. Notices how you always sit so close to him now when he is at your dorm and you play video games against each other. How you always laugh at his jokes, no matter how sarcastic they are. Or how you look at him sometimes when you think he doesn't realize it. How your eyes get that dreamy little sparkle when Sukuna is sleepy, and his voice gets low and a bit raspy. How you get goosebumps on your arms when Sukuna puts his hands on your hips to steer you through a crowded room.
A few weeks later, Sukuna finds himself back at the same spot where all those weeks ago, it all began. Sitting next to you in the grass in the small backyard of your friend's dorm, where you cried when Yuuji broke your heart.
But tonight, you aren't crying. Tonight, you are smiling and throwing your head back, laughing at some dry joke Sukuna makes, looking so carefree and happy. Your shoulder is brushing against Sukuna's biceps, and your hand lands on his thigh, giving it a playful smack and staying just a little too long. And Sukuna can't help but say in that low voice, you seem to like so much,
"You are so beautiful."
For a split second, he feels his chest tense up, scared that he fucked everything up. Scared that he got it wrong and you still want his brother. Or maybe some other guy. Scared that you only see Sukuna as a good friend. Or that you only see him the way the whole campus sees him: as that sexy, asshole guy who is only good for casual sex and nothing more.
But then you turn your head to look at him, and Sukuna sees that soft expression in your eyes, the one he used to see on your face when you looked at his brother. But now it is for him, for Sukuna. And he simply knows without you having to spell it out. He knows that things have truly changed.
So, Sukuna decides to do what he wanted to do for a long time.
"I am sorry that you cried the last time we were in this backyard. But I am not sorry for why it happened. My brother is an idiot for not wanting you like that. But I am glad he is an idiot because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this..."
And Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, cupping it with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed while looking deeply into your eyes, checking one last time if he really got it right. You look at him with wide eyes, but you smile and nod softly as your gaze travels down to his lips.
And Sukuna sighs and presses his lips gently against yours, kissing you like he never kissed someone before, slow and gentle, as if he is scared you will break or slip through his fingers. A kiss with his eyes closed and his chest filling with a warmth he didn't know until now. A kiss into which Sukuna pours all the secret longing he felt for you for months, all the feelings he tried to hold back for his brother's sake and then for the sake of not fucking things up.
But finally, he doesn't have to hold back anymore. Because you chose him. You chose Sukuna. You are sitting here with him, with your hand in his hair and your lips moving slowly against his, a happy sigh and a soft murmur of his name falling from your lips.
The two of you only stop kissing when Sukuna's head is already spinning from the lack of oxygen. He pulls away only enough to grin at you and stroke your cheek with his thumb. And you smile back at him and whisper,
"I am glad, too, that Yuuji turned me down. Because otherwise I wouldn't have found out that it's his brother who is my perfect match. I wouldn't have found out that you, Itadori Sukuna, are the one I like the most out of everyone."
AAAHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH đđ Thank you so much for sending me this ask. I see Sukuna + unrequited love/pining and I lose my mind!! It's my weakness and makes me so so soft for him (even more than usual).
I hope you liked this little hurt/comfort story!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet đ
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna
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thinkin' about jealous! natasha
natasha romanoff x fem! reader
natasha romanoff was either the most infuriating or oblivious person in the world.
you guys weren't official, by any means; hell, you guys hadn't even kissed. but it was common knowledge that you were natasha's, as she was yours.
the standoff-ish redhead had a soft spot for you & you only, and you took pride in that.
which is why when the redhead saw you getting flirted with during one of tony stark's parties, no less by some stupid agent that she trained, she was pissed - well "minorly ticked off."
she couldn't help but glower as she watched you take a seat at the bar, watching them flirt with you - or try to. she glared as they tried to woo you their rank and big muscles - "that really weren't that big," she thought bitterly, her jaw clenched, and her grip on her whiskey glass tightening. natasha smirked at the knowledge that her muscles were definitely bigger, and that she could definitely put on a better show than some low-ranking agent, especially for you.
her grip on her whiskey glass impossibly tightens, the auburn-gold liquor swishing around as she sees you laugh at a joke that idiot made; she was sure she could make you laugh much harder. so she does.
she walks over to the bar, downing the rest of her liquor, leaning over the bar, her body brushing against yours as she orders a refill, and you tense, the only thing you can focus on is her toned body against yours.
"oh hey sweetheart," she drawls, the nickname slipping off her tongue easily as she death-glares the agent - who very quickly gets the memo and slinks away.
"hey nat! this is-," you turn back to the other agent, and you see them sulking in the corner. you look back at natasha, and you can see a hint of smugness in her eyes - her stupid, beautiful, green eyes, and suddenly it all makes sense; natasha was jealous.
"you jealous?" you teased, unable to hide the grin at the thought of stone-cold natasha being jealous, being jealous over you
"oh please," she huffs before continuing, "why would i be jealous?"
"aw nat! you're so jealous!" you can't help but tease the aloof assassin, enjoying the way her face grimaces.
"i am not jealous." she mutters, scowling.
"for a spy, you sure are horrible at lying," you tease, your eyes sparkling with amusement, and affection that was purely for natsha. "y'know i'm yours right?" you murmur, cocking your head slight and enjoying the light pink that covered her cheeks and the tips of her ears.
"say it again," she rasps, and suddenly you can't remember how to form a coherent sentence, ridiculously aware of how close your lips are to hers - so close that you could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours. your eyes flit down to her lips - her plump, perfect lips, tinged with faded lipstick - you couldn't help but wonder how soft they'd be against yours.
"i said, say it again, sweetheart," she all but purrs, and you're sure she can hear the thump-thump of your heart as you gulp. you bravely flick your eyes up towards her bewitching green eyes, and suddenly you've lost your breath again. you can see a glint of amusement in her eyes as she roams her eyes over your face.
"said 'm yours natasha, all yours," you manage to get out, and you can see the way her lips quirk up. fuck it.
before she can open her mouth to make a witty quip, you press your lips onto hers.
they were somehow softer than you thought they'd be.
--
bonus:
"i still can't believe you were jealous," you murmur, breathless from natasha's kisses, your lips slightly swollen and bruised.
"oh yeah?" she husks, and god do you love her voice
her lips latch onto your neck before she continues, "want me to show you just how jealous i can be, sweet thing?"
#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#soft natasha romanoff#fluff fluff fluff#marvel#black widow#natasha romanoff#black widow x reader#w4dows
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YOU NEED TO MAKE MORE DAD!SUKUNAđ Itâs just soo good!!!, Iâm literally obsessed with Dad!sukunađ«¶đ»
lol hereâs a little snippet to start the day, in other words I had a domestic dream đ„șđ€
Jujutsu Teacher Sukuna AU
Somewhere in another time line Sukuna became a not so dedicated teacher at Jujutsu high school still after having turned himself into a curse, even 1000 years he landed a spot on the higher upâs board it hilarious when they try to execute someone and he completely disagrees.
They learned quickly is Sukuna disapproves of their actions agree with arrimen Sukuna. Donât go behind his back and try to do it either. Heâs not afraid to kill everyone and replace the entire board of Higher Ups
Then one year he met you, you came in from the sister school to be teacher. Usually he tried not to mess with staff they only last so long anyways. But maybe it was that time he saw you banging your head in the drink machine because you used your last bills to buy a drink and it got stuck. Or maybe it was that time Gojo and Toji surprisingly decided to team up against you and you managed to hold your own.
It was when YOU started to pursUE HIM he became really intrigued. At first he became annoyed because not to far behind the corner he could hear the snickering and âOh sheâs really doing it!â âSheâs a brave woman to try and flirt with himâŠâ âWhat are you idiots do- oh, this could be interesting.â âshhh, I canât hear what heâs saying!â
You didnât notice when he flicked his wrist, but you did hear your coworkers panic and the rushed steps. Looking back confused you were more confused when you looked back at Sukuna and he was leaning forward getting face to face with you before squishing your face in one of his hands. âYou do understand you proud Jujutsu Sorcerers donât live very long, so give me one good reason you want my attention.â
You wanted to badly to look away from those demanding red eyes, to pull away and breath the God given air, instead here you were getting dazed off his musk and cologne. Feeling his warm hand squish your face, nails lightly pressing against your skin. Smash- swallowing you had one chance to do this right. Donât stutter, donât fear, breath, donât rush, donât show him WEAKNESS.
âI J- ahemâ ah.. I messed up already, âWait let me restart- Okay Iâm ready, Iâm not gonna stand here and promise happiness smiles and endless love, praise and worship. Iâm not gonna lie to your face and tell you everything you want to hear and pretend itâs all sunshine and rainbows. When I go on a mission Iâm not gonna say I promise to always come back that would be a fools move. But at least in my last moments Iâd have to privilege to remember you and all those wise words you used to tell me like. âDumbass thatâs why you keep more than two dollars in your wallet.â Or âLiving to please others and dying with regrets if no helping everyone is vain, Live to please yourself at least in your final moments youâll have some sense of fulfillment.â So like it or not Iâm here to please myself if you say No and tell me to fuck off and send me on my way. I wonât regret having asking. If you say yes, well I wonât lie I wouldnât really know what to do or say I came in expected to be rejected and humbled.â Finally your eyes left his, you were oblivious to stare he had. He wasnât completely amused but he wasnât bored of your words either. âLook at me.â You did, âyou didnât bore me entirely with your little ⊠speech so Iâll give you one opportunity. Sunday, I have an early mission, meet me here at 4 in the morning and Iâll tell you with me. After I finish you can have the rest of my day or until I get bored.â
He didnât get bored⊠it turned out you amused him so much more when you werenât surrounded be suits.
And thatâs how you ended up here.
âYuji donât say something stupid love canât protect anyone.â Nobara rolled her eyes, âYuh huh, your words canât hurt me because my mom and dadâs love protects me.â He puffed his chest out crossing his arms and smiling with closed eyes, missing the book Nobara was throwing at him. A solid sound was made, Yuji was wide eyed, the all to familiar wrist holding the heavy book just in front of his face, âCareful Miss.Kugisaki itâd be a shame if you caught extra missions for disabling another student from completing his own.â Yuji smiled proudly, âSee, protected.â
Sukuna rolled his eyes, âGet to class Fushiguro was on your ass last time for being late to class.â He nodded his head at Yuji who just smiled sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, âAlright.â Of course the Trio ran past you greeting you with âHi Mrs.Sukuna!â Good morning Mom!â âMorning Y/n Senpai.â You watched them all keep running until your husband stood next to you offering you the Coffee Cup he had been drinking. You were distracted by one thing âWhy do you have our photo album?â Sukuna felt his eye twitch, âDamn brat.â Was all he mumbled tucking it under his shoulder, âYour son believes your love protects him.â
You laughed, âOUR son believes OUR love for him protects him. Considering your holding that book Im assuming Kugisaki tried to throw it at him or you were reminiscing on that time you had to save them from a Special Grade ambush and when you had to carry them all out Yuji was sniffling how he knew he could count on you to be there for him.â
He looked away, âHigher ups are lucky I only wiped out half of them.â You rested your head on his shoulder pulling the album from him. âAaww this is Yujiâs baby albumâ you cooed seeing the picture of Sukuna holding Yuji next to a bouquet of âItâs a Boy!â Balloons. In the background you could see the blur of Geto smacking Gojo on the back of the head.
Sukuna is secure as a man and father đ„č
So itâs not a surprise to you when you come home late from the school and find true form Sukuna threatening to break the sofa under his weight coddling 15yo Yuji đ„č
As much of a brute people have him to be, Yuji might be his only son, and he might call him brat and roll his eyes a lot. But heâd be damned if he were truly a bad dad. In a whispered conversation he told you about everything that happened on Yujiâs mission. How the mission was purposely miss graded and they basically walked into a special grade curses domain. Sukuna had no doubt in his mind that if wouldnât have been the one over seeing their mission the first years wouldnât have walked back out alive.
Yuji was alright the entire ride but when he got home he broke down crying, speechless gasping for air. Thatâs when Sukuna pick him up carrying him over the sofa, coddling Yuji wasnât as easy now that they were almost the same height, so he turned to his true form. And let Yuji cry, scream and hold onto him. Rubbing his back, holding his head against his shoulder, just talking to him to comfort him. âDo you remember that time we went to the park, and you wondered off to far chasing a duck.â Yuji nodded still sniffling, âYour mom was scared shitless when she couldnât find you.â He laughed and Yuji laughed lightly, ây.. yeah I remember I jumped into the pond and then you and mom started screaming and then jumped inâŠâ sukuna laughed louder, âY/n was so mad but she couldnât stay mad when she saw you with that little duck.â He patted Yujiâs back resting his chin on his head. Soon Yuji fell asleep.
It led you to find him this state. You asked him to go lay him in his bed, he did. He came to help you make some comfort food, it was hilarious when you asked if he could use dismantle on vegetables and it turned out he could. Now over the table in the wall is a sign that says âMalevolent Kitchen.â
The house that night was filled with the soft sounds of cooking, you and your husband talking about whatever came to mind. The Golden pot boiling with whatever broth you made. Sukuna was fighting the rice cooker while you tempura fried some shrimp and rolled some noodles to cook
It was well past 9 when you heard Yuji coming, both of you turning to see him walking yawning and rubbing his eyes. Bare feet padding along the kitchen floor. âCome sit down Yu you gotta be hungry.â you fixed him a large bowl of noodles with Tempura shrimp. On the side were the massive Onigiri Sukuna had made, he even tried to use the nori stamp to put little faces on them. More often than not they have 4 little crooked eyes that looked mad but it squeezed your heart how he laughed to himself saying âYujiâs going to love these.â
He did, you watched as he bit into it rice sticking to his face. âThese are good dad what did you fill them with?â âNitamago we forgot to pack em for lunch so.. improvise I guess.â You both sat down with Yuji talking and eating. Just enjoying the free time you had together before Sukuna would go commit another crime against the higher ups đ€đ€
Yeah đ„č
Im here 10-1 in the morning đ€ It took all day to type this out đđ
Also a lot of my co workers walked out today đ„č it was rough
Tag List: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare
#sukunas wife#sukuna ryomen#sukunas wife speaks#daddy sukuna#jjk anime#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna thirst#đ€mail time#sukuna x reader#sukuna x wife reader#dad sukuna#dadkuna#Sukuna school au#Sukuna teacher au#dad sukuna son Yuji#yuji and mom reader#SukuNation#sukuna nation#soft sukuna#squishy sukuna#little ball of curse#sukuna fluff#husband sukuna
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Hello!! I've been here since your first creation, Boar! Creator. And I'm thinking about something.
What about Squirrel! Creator đżïž
Like, squirrels in Genshin really have no fear, all they think about are pinecones. Many times I approached them, but they didn't run away like other animals, they just stood there, near their pinecones.
So I imagine a character who has a hat, like Mona or Venti walking in the forest and a pinecone gets stuck in their hat. Then a squirrel followed them all day, leaving them confused, not knowing why the squirrel was following them. And what the worse was that the squirrel had no fear, they even followed them into the city!
Mona Encounter
à«źê°Ë¶á” á á”˶ê±á Pairings : Gn! Squirrel Reader x Mona
à«źê°àŸàœČâ©ÂŽ á” `â©ê±àŸàœČá W.K. : 649
à»ê°àŸàœČá” á” á” ê±àŸàœČ১ Tags/CW&TW : fluff & crack
à»ê°àŸàœČ˶Ëâ°Ë˶ê±àŸàœČá Authorâs note : Mmmmm big bushy tails the floofa :3
Future note: Mona has a house⊠not right now she donât-
Mona was a woman of business.
Booming business?.. Admittedly no, but business nonetheless.
Spending her nights charting the stars and giving out fortunes to those brave enough to handle her sharp tongue, she was more than busy in her life, even if she was just barely getting by.
⊠Where does she keep all her astrology books, tools and otherwise when she has nowhere to stay? Up your ass thatâs where.
One busy night of watching the stars in a forest had worn the poor girl down, and the grass was so soft, and the gently breeze that rustled the leaves was so nice and ohïżœïżœ sheâs asleep.
So deep in sleep, she didnât notice the pinecone that fell into her hat.
Nor did she notice the you who was perched on a branch above, salivating at the mere thought of that now slightly forbidden cone because it fell on a human, and you told yourself not to go near them, if not for self preservation than just to not interact with them.
It wasnât as if you didnât ever want to interact with them, it was an inane fear that something might happen so on so forth, especially since you found out that you were in SAGAU. Fuck that chance. Trees, apples and pinecones is enough for you.
But this⊠this chance⊠fuck it it was to much to bear. You jumped right on into the hat, curling around the beloved pinecone. Nothing else mattered now except the piney scent and the cold comforting darkness of this idiotâs hat.
Fuck yeah.
à«źê°ă„Ë¶âą àŒ âąË¶ê±ă„ ËÊ ê°ââââàšđđ©đ°à§ââââê± ÉË
When morning came, Mona opened her eyes with a groan and popped her back considering the awful position she slept in. She blinked blearily as she took in the morning air. Feeling around, she grabbed her hat that had fallen off her head, not even noticing the extra weight, and plopped that sucker right on her head, somehow not even feeling your tiny little shivering feet.
Oh shit you fell asleep in her hat and now she was standing up. You sat as physically still as you could as you felt the somehow oblivious woman rose and begin walking.
The swaying motions wasnât very nice on your stomach, ears twitching and eyes constantly moving around the space to try and find any kind of exit.
For a moment everything stopped, and your tail hitched and breath stilled. Suddenly, a hand reached up into the hat and in a panic you lightly jumped onto the fabric of the back of the hat, staring as the hand scratched the spot you once were and reach around a bit, finding the pinecone you once held and threw it out the hat, muttering some random stuff that was muffled to your ears.
After a few moments of stillness the astronomer was on the move again. And you were in her hat. Trapped. Alone.
à«źê°ă„Ë¶âą àŒ âąË¶ê±ă„ ËÊ ê°ââââàšđĄđźđȘà§ââââê± ÉË
City noises were weird when youâre hearing them from inside a hat.
That was your deduction as Mona walked through what you could only assume to be Mondstadt. The hustle and bustle and overall joyfulness permeated even the fabric of the hat you were currently trapped in and made life just the slightest bit brighter, shocker.
Mona was just walking around as far as you could tell, no real destination in mind. But, you were hoping for her to stop soon, your paws hurt a little bit from their harsh grip on her hat and wanted a rest. Issue being, of course, you couldnât rest on her because then sheâd find out you were on her head for Archons knows how long.
The space you inhabited was just barely lit from the sun. The back of the hat behind you moving around due to a slight wind.
As the woman you were riding on continued further into the city, the only thing you could think was:
âOh Fuck.â
à»ê°àŸàœČ˶Ëâ°Ë˶ê±àŸàœČá Authorâs note : I was writing this years old when I found out Genshin has squirrels-
Also yes I purposely left off like that for requests/future stuff to pick up on lmao Iâm sorry-
#genshin impact sagau#sagau x reader#sagau#x reader#x gn reader#gn y/n#x gn y/n#yandere x reader#yandere x you#Squirrel!Creator#asks <3#anon <3
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Clueless
Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader
Warnings: none
Y/n sat on the couch, nervously biting her lip as she watched Five Hargreeves meticulously go over his latest plans on the coffee table. She had been in love with Five for a while now, but he seemed completely unaware of her feelings. She decided to be brave and make her interest a bit more obvious.
âHey, Five,â Y/n said, trying to sound casual. âNeed a break? I was thinking of making some coffee. I know how much you love it.â
Five looked up from his maps, his expression serious. âCoffee? Sure, that sounds good. Thanks, Y/n.â
Y/n smiled, though she couldnât help but feel a little deflated. Is he really this dense, or is he just pretending? She sighed, getting up to head to the kitchen.
As Y/n brewed the coffee, she mentally prepared herself for another attempt. This time, sheâd be more direct. She carefully arranged two cups on a tray and brought them back to the living room, where Five was still engrossed in his work.
She set the tray down and sat beside him, leaning in a bit closer than usual. âSo, Five,â she said, her voice soft and hopefully enticing, âwhatâs your favorite way to relax after a long day of saving the world?â
Five glanced at her, his brow furrowed in thought. âI guess I like to read a book or have a drink. Why do you ask?â
Y/n blinked, feeling her cheeks flush. âOh, just curious. Maybe we could... read together sometime?â
Five nodded absently, already turning back to his papers. âSounds good, Y/n.â
Across the room, Klaus watched the exchange with growing amusement. He had a sixth sense for these things, and it was clear as day that Y/n was head over heels for Five. What was also clear was that Five, brilliant as he was, had the emotional awareness of a brick.
Klaus decided it was time to intervene. He sauntered over, plopping down next to Five and flashing Y/n a conspiratorial grin.
âHey, Five,â Klaus began, his tone light and teasing, âhave you noticed how Y/n is looking at you? You know, like sheâs... interested?â
Five looked up, puzzled. âInterested? In what?â
Y/nâs eyes widened in horror as she tried to signal Klaus to shut up, but he ignored her.
âIn you, you dummy!â Klaus said, giving Five a light shove. âSheâs been flirting with you for the past week, and you havenât noticed?â
Five stared at Klaus, then at Y/n, then back at Klaus. âFlirting? With me?â
Y/n wanted to crawl under the couch and disappear. âKlaus!â she hissed. âMaybe you could be a little less obvious?â
Klaus shrugged, unrepentant. âHey, someone had to spell it out for him. Heâs not exactly Mr. Romantic.â
Five, now looking at Y/n with a mixture of confusion and dawning realization, finally put the pieces together. âWait, youâre saying Y/n... you like me? Like, likes me likes me?â
Y/nâs face was crimson. She stared down at her hands, feeling like she might burst from embarrassment. âWell, yeah,â she mumbled. âIâve been trying to show you, but youâre kind of... oblivious.â
Five blinked, his mind racing. He replayed all their recent interactions in his head and finally saw what had been right in front of him. Y/nâs subtle touches, her lingering looks, the way she tried to be close to him. It all made sense now.
A slow smile spread across his face. âIâm an idiot, arenât I?â
Klaus snorted. âYou think?â
Y/n finally dared to look up, her heart pounding. âSo... now that you know, what do you think?â
Five leaned in closer, his eyes warm and a little mischievous. âI think,â he said softly, âthat Iâve been incredibly blind. And that Iâd like to spend a lot more time with you, if youâll let me.â
Y/nâs breath caught in her throat. âReally?â
âReally,â Five said, reaching out to take her hand. âI might need some help, though. Klaus is right; Iâm not exactly a romantic.â
Klaus beamed, clearly pleased with himself. âDonât worry, Iâve got plenty of tips. Step one: stop being so dense.â
Y/n laughed, squeezing Fiveâs hand. âI think I can manage that.â
Five smiled, his gaze locked on Y/nâs. âIâm sure weâll figure it out together.â
Over the next few days, Five made a concerted effort to be more aware of his feelings and how to express them. He and Y/n went on a few datesâawkward at first but sweet and full of potential. Klaus, true to his word, offered unsolicited advice, most of which involved more flair than either Five or Y/n could handle.
One evening, as they sat on the couch in the living room, Y/n snuggled up against Five, feeling content and happy. Five wrapped an arm around her, looking more relaxed than sheâd ever seen him.
âYou know,â Five said, his voice thoughtful, âIâm really glad Klaus decided to butt in.â
Y/n chuckled, nuzzling closer. âYeah, me too. Who would have thought?â
Five leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. âHereâs to figuring out this whole romance thing. Together.â
Y/n smiled, closing her eyes as she savored the moment. âTogether,â she echoed, feeling a warmth in her heart that she knew would be there for a long, long time.
#five hargreeves imagines#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x you#number five imagine#number five x reader#the umbrella academy#number five#number five one shot#five hargreeves
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Peter B needs a Harry, so have some Parksborn headcanons:
Dumbass bi men who never realized they were dating
Harry had a crush since they met and Peter was so oblivious
They had a "fallout" (break-up) after Peter and MJ divorced, but Harry secretly paid Peter's rent and bought the DB so Peter could keep his job
Harry has a spare key to Peter's apartment (and they were ROOMATES) and cleans up for him sometimes. Peter cries when he finds out
Harry totally knows Peter is Spider-Man. "I mean, he's heroic, brave, kind, funny, and the world's biggest idiot. Who else would it be?"
Miles, Gwen, and Pav meet Harry for the first time and almost lose it. " Uh, all due respect, that's the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life how are you friends. Can he adopt us?
Parent the hell out of the spiderlings. "Okay fine, but don't tell Harry" "Just wait till I tell Peter about this"
Harry: well, you know, he didn't invite me to his wedding, so--
Peter calls Harry 'angel' 1000% thanks bye. Harry calls him Petey ofc. (Peter hates it. He secretly loves it)
Harry still has hoodies that hang off his shoulders most of the time, that smell of pepperoni pizza and tears
Peter is the embodiment of the "saw my roommate kiss guys, am I homophobic?" Reddit Guy
Harry crocheted Mayday's little hat
Ik the classic formula is that Norman wants Peter as a son while constantly undermining Harry, and I want to keep that tension, but
Peter and Norman hating the fuck out of eachother is so goddamn funny to me. Especially if the childhood best friend aspects comes in
Norman is out here beefing with Peter B's 6 year old self and Harry is planning their lego wedding
Probably tried adopting Peter just so he won't be able to marry Harry. "Here's 300$ to stop being friends with my son." "Save that money for our wedding."
Peter has a photo album with just Harry. From age 4 to 30. A collection of polaroids he sleeps with under the pillow like the sap he is
#peter parker#peter b parker#harry osborn#parksborn#parksborne#spiderman#atsv#spiderverse#text#text post#mind you i imagined hugh dancy as harry hehe
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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: One
Table of Contents | Next Chapter
Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro
Chapter One: What Happens When a Swordsman Meets a Swordsmith?
GIF by gildedmuse
Behind the Wall
Zoro notes that the trek up into the forest with Gramps is oddly silent, as his boots clumsily crush against the leafy meadow. Between the two, no words of small talk are being shared or expressed â which is surprising and also a breath of fresh air to Zoro, since it seems he canât get away from people who love to yap.
He was also secretly thankful that he was being guided to the swordsmith rather than having to put his listening comprehension skills to the test, with how â and he wholeheartedly believes this - villagers always give him the most confusing roundabout directions (really, itâs just them telling him to turn left).
So, as he lags behind the dagger-swinging Gramps, he realises that this has been the first time in months that heâs felt at peace without having to sleep for it.
After what seems like an hour of silent ambling, Gramps looks behind himself at the samurai and childishly beams.
âWeâre almost there, celery-boy.â
âGotcha, dusty puffball,â Zoro retorts.
âI must warn you⊠you should be prepared for the swordsmith. She does not like to sugar-coat things.â
Zoro remains silent; at first, he mulls over his words before deciding to shrug it off. Itâs not like any of the swordsmiths heâs met are legendary, so really, why would her opinion matter?
As they near a mountainous cliffy terrain, Gramps stands ahead of a narrow gap between two rumbling boulders. His hands deftly stroke across a specific gap with obnoxious hand movements, which Zoro thinks heâs undoubtedly making up on the spot. Still, as the old man moves away from the caress, the rocks begin to shuffle and grumble lowly. The boulders twist and turn, jagged and crumbling, into forming an irregular cave-like hole.
When the cave stops echoing its aroused yawn against its walls, the merchant turns around to stick his tongue at Zoro.
âYou thought I was an insane old senile for a second, didnât you?â
Slowly, Zoroâs ears turn red.
âYou did, didnât you? You followed me here because you felt bad for me, didnât you?â
âLeave it alone,â Zoro sighs, feeling the heat continue to rush over the rest of his face.
He quickly shuffles through the entrance before he can give the geezer another chance to holler at his idiocy. It didnât stop the dusty puffball, though â as they both continue their journey within the dimly lit cave, Zoro can hear the old cackles that echoed off the jagged walls.
âWait until you meet her, youâll be lit up in flames!â He giggles deviously, pleased with his successful torment with the bull-head.
âI donât give a shit about what anyone thinks,â Zoro mutters, remaining tight-lipped for the rest of the journey.
Over the Wall
âGo find a transponder snail right bloody now - Iâm not dealing with him,â you hiss at your Gramps, who stares at you almost as dumbly as the green sword wielder standing beside him.
âWhat are you talking about?â Gramps Suki splutters, acting oblivious as heâs always been with you. âGive him a chance, heâs a good kid!â
âNo,â you hiss, ignoring the green-head standing stoically in front of your anvil, putting your palm up at Gramps. âCall the Navy Protection Services right now, heâs a disgrace to his swords.â
âDo you want a fight with me, woman?!â The idiot swordsman yells, clawing clumsily for the weapons at his hip.
Unprovoked, you hit him with a deadpan look to the side. God, how many careless swordsmen have you dealt with who all act the bloody same?
âThatâs brave, asking to fight the one person who knows how to make and break a blade.â
In an instant, green-head starts shouting out a string of insults like a moron.
Although small and frail in appearance, you know Gramps Suki is more than what he chooses to show to people. In a swift manoeuvre, his knobbly hands grip the guy by the collar, making the samurai look like a wretched cat dragged by its neck.
âGet your hands off me, dumbass!â The swordsman chokes, squirming and struggling against the strength of your Gramps. Ignoring him entirely, Gramps stares at you with bewilderment and slight humour.
âWhat?â You ask him, casually heading to the back of the room to wash your hands.
âWe arenât pro-Navy, Raya, or have you hit your head on the anvil again?â
âYouâve hit your head on the anvil before?â A gruff voice snickers in Grampsâ vice grip, making you grit your teeth hard.
âSomeone needs to call child protection services on those poor swords,â you loudly announce, shutting the green-head up from his evil grin.
You turn around to rest against the sink, drying your hands with a blackened rag.
âI can quite literally feel how broken they are in their sheaths, and Iâm stood all the way here. Donât you respect your blades, Mr. Samurai, or do you like to use them as big tooth-picks instead?â
And the dude, still squirming a few centimetres in the air, absolutely loses it. You canât help but crack a laugh over how furious heâs getting as he begins to continue with his insults. You swear you hear him call you an anvil-indented-head in his string of lovely compliments.
Even Gramps canât help but guffaw at the entire interaction between you two, completely folding over in on himself. Although still holding onto the green-headâs shirt in an abnormally strong grasp, he heartily laughs on, as if heâs holding a cloth in the air.
Tsk. Maybe Gramps really is going senile - you think, while you dust off your blackened hammer. Out of any person in the world, you didnât know why Sukiyaki decided to bring in this idea of a swordsman as a potential client.
You and Gramps have only worked for the best and scarcely have any, if at all, clients â simply because, for you and Gramps, swordsmithing is incredibly dangerous and quite literally life-threatening. Your whole cover can be blown up in an instant if the wrong person fucks around and finds out who you both are.
As underground swordsmiths, you intentionally work away from the hubbub of the central market to gain only the attention of the right clients. To you, this cabbage patch of a man shows absolutely no promise, evidence, or indication of worthiness to bear your craftsmanship by his side.
This dude comes in with a crumbling sword, the sword whoâs barely holding herself together in the shambled state sheâs in, as well as bearing two other wobbly blades on his hip. The first time you sensed their three auras, as he and Gramps made their way towards you, your whole stomach dropped.
Of course, you see broken swords all the time; in your profession, itâs called for â but the way that the green-headâs metals were humming â no, moaning - made you want to writhe in your own skin. Youâve never heard this level of sadness before. It completely pained you to know what the blades were thinking.
How unfeeling he is to the forces who defend his life, time and time again. Frankly, itâs insulting.
âWho do you think you are, anvil-head? Youâre just the villageâs swordsmith - a nobody,â the guy spits out, wholly absorbed in his anger. He finally manages to push himself away from Grampsâ hands and land on his feet.
âOh, God.. not again,â Gramps mutters, shaking his head in mild displeasure. He knows whatâs about to happen.
Your hands pause in the middle of buffing your hammer.
A nobody, huh?
Your fingertips grow warm. You gaze up at the man â the first time youâve actually acknowledged him with a look - whoâs now stomping towards you, his hands balled in fists.
As you shake your head, you feel tendrils of smoke and heat frame around your face. What a bull-head.
âFix my swords, woman,â he demands through gritted teeth, standing between you and your workbench.
You sigh, unimpressed, staring straight into his eye.
âIt canât be done.â
âAre you telling me youâre so unskilled that you canât mend my swords?â
A smile unfurls across your lips, fire emanating from your fingertips and across the stray curls of your hair.
You shake your head.
âNo, Iâm telling you that I'm melting them. Look down.â
Gramps Suki and Bull-Head slowly tilt their vision to the floor, plainly staring at the liquid metal dripping out of all three of his sheaths.
#one piece#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#nami#zoro#one piece luffy#luffy#monkey d luffy#one piece ace#straw hat pirates#usopp#sanji#tony tony chopper#nico robin#straw hat luffy#one piece fanfiction#one piece fic#one piece fanfic#op fanfic#op fandom#female reader x zoro#zoro x female reader#zoro x fem reader#three sword style#zoro roronoa#zoro rorono x you#zoro roronoa x y/n#straw hats#one piece nami
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My Brother's Keeper (II)
As in every version of the story, Vash only plays the fool. He is not one. Oblivious, hapless and harmless are always masks he wears. From beneath them, he susses out what Wolfwood is pretty much immediately.
Not that it was hard. The man's barely trying. And really, three days into the trip to July and a guy carrying a cross from Nai's freaky book suddenly shows up, walks off the trailer slamming into him, tries to separate Vash from the reporters, lectures him about killing to survive, makes just-kidding-or-am-I remarks about being an assassin, then finally reveals he's actually carrying an absurdly overpowered laser-cross-gun before inviting himself along for their quote-unquote "protection". Nevertheless he sticks almost exclusively by Vash, who is by a very, very, very wide margin the least in need of protection among them.
Just in this scene his lighter has the Eye of Michael sigil on it and judging by the heap of butts, after picking tunnels for everyone to search (including one for him) he stayed right where he was and chain-smoked until Vash returned. Not too long afterwards Roberto abruptly and mysteriously vanishes, and Wolfwood tries to convince Vash the reporters must be dead. âŠYeah, I guess that counts as subtle for someone who named himself Millions Knives, but c'mon. Knives thinks his stupid brother won't come to his party unless he's dragged there. Vash has a chaperone now whether he wants one or not.
If I were in Vash's situation I'd be quite annoyed. For fuck's sake, he's an adult. He's been one for over a century. He doesn't need a damn babysitter. And what kind of idiot sends an assassin to do that job?
Except... Knives somehow made the perfect choice in Nick.
Wolfwood's cynical rhetoric has no effect whatsoever on Vash's ideals and he's hardly any more effective at keeping Vash safe. Simply because Wolfwood's there, Zazie and Legato between them find excuses to endanger Vash, which is par for the course when Knives tries to "protect" him. No, what makes Wolfwood the best man for the job is something that may well have happened in spite of Knives, and it's this.
Regardless of his real age, at heart Nick is a kind but wounded boy who's only trying to protect his beloved family, especially his crybaby brother. He kills because he doesn't think there's any choice - he's ultimately a victim of indifferent circumstance. In a way, an innocent.
In Wolfwood Knives gave Vash everything Vash wants to believe is true of Knives himself. With all his heart, Vash wants his brother's cruelty and manipulation to be just... just some wildly misguided but sincere attempt to save the Plants, because he doesn't believe there can be any other way - but he'd be open to an alternative. Nai really does love Vash, just like Vash truly does love Nai, and Rem loved them both. His brother can't be a monster.
If he's smart and kind and strong and brave enough, if he can just overcome his fear, Vash is sure that he can help. He'd convince Nai that humanity doesn't have to die, it's just ignorance and crashing on this barren planet that made everyone's hearts so barren while they struggled to survive. They, the twins, can take responsibility for what they did and help Plants and humans to help each other. If they could do it together...
He could love his brother without it being so fucking painful. They could love each other without every encounter they have leaving more helpless people dead, more scars on Vash. From all that he's lost, he could salvage this one thing. He'd be so content with that. He's survived on much less. He ran before, but he'd stay this time, and for good. Neither of them would be alone. They'd have time.
On top of that, Vash needs to help people - it's what keeps him alive, and it makes him happy. Wolfwood needs someone who'll treat him like he's a person rather than a weapon, to remember that he doesn't have to be the Punisher. That's what keeps him alive. There's still a place for him in the world, even for what he's become.
If Vash can convince Wolfwood, his brother's agent, to accept that place... if he can help him... maybe he could do the same for his brother. Just as Luida did for Vash himself.
And Wolfwood does a damn good job playing the part without even knowing that's what he's doing. Well, he knows he's protecting Vash, but all it's in how he does it.
JPN: You only get one life. You have to fight for it, no matter who you hurt in the process. There's no other way to survive.
ENG: You only get one life, y'know? Self-sacrifice might satisfy the ego, but don't throw your life away. Survival's everything.
This is advice you'd get from a brother. If one must die so another can live, I'd rather you live - so make sure of it. Dumbass. (It's also the final request Rem made of the twins: I want you two to survive./Try your very best to survive for me.) Maybe phrased bluntly and a bit abrasive, but not⊠insane. No weird sermons about crusades and fire from the sky, no verbal abuse or put-downs, no blame, no hurt. What's more, while Wolfwood does try to convince Vash to leave the reporters for dead, when Vash goes back for them Wolfwood bitches all the way but goes with him. He slices open the Grand Worm for them (though I think also to annoy Zazie). And after that, he clinches it by, of all things, trying to get Meryl to eat bugs.
You're not going so survive like that. Come on!/Are any of you freaks interested in survival? Come on! Open wide!
(This is totally irrelevant, but their stupid bickering in the background in the English dub is hilarious. Nick straight up says "I'm helping!" and adds something about how short Meryl is. Meryl starts protesting that she's a "perfectly average-sized woman." I bet they were unbearable in the truck.)
Nai was always dismissive of, if not outright nasty about, Vash enjoying food he doesn't need. Nick gets it. Consuming food gives physical nourishment, and Plants don't need that to survive. But it's also togetherness, shared joy. Those are things both Plants and humans need, so it's not a 'waste'. We're more than merely serving a material purpose or function, even one that's self-declared. Even as Plants.
No matter how heavy a cross you carry, you still deserve to eat. You still deserve to laugh./Heh, no matter how heavy the cross is you carry, you deserve food. And to laugh.
Vash needed to hear that, or something like it. It's the kind of thing Rem used to say, the kind of thing Luida told him. (It's about everyone getting a share.) Meryl, though she cares for him, doesn't yet know how to break through Vash's rumination.
Nick's being a jackass older brother by happenstance, because he's letting down his guard. It's who he really is: kind of a silly kid who cares deeply about people and shows it by goofing off and pushing their buttons until they want to fucking kill him. But Vash would so relieved to have a brother who's just annoying about how much he cares. Who still cares enough to listen to his opinions, and to compromise when they disagree; who doesn't loathe the person Vash is because it's not what he thinks Vash should be. So Vash eats what Wolfwood offers, despite Roberto's warnings, extending his trust. Wolfwoof takes that in the spirit it was intended, a little shocked. Despite himself (and despite Zazie), he and Vash are genuine friends from this moment onward.
Also Nick is having a ball bugging the shit out of Meryl. She's like three feet tall and so easy to piss off! Maybe if he tries hard enough he can make her head explode. Irritating the little sister mode: activate.
That doesn't mean everything's love and peace, though.
Wolfwood's work isn't over yet. I think he's relieved Vash extended his trust both because, despite himself, Nick likes this dude (and that must have been an interesting realisation to come to about his sadistic boss's fluffy wuffy cotton ball of a twin brother) and because it makes his job easier. But now he's emotionally invested. He shouldn't be. He can't be. Zazie reminded him why, can see it in [his] eyes. The last person who cared like this was Livio.
Again, Vash isn't stupid. He does care about Nick as a person, not a surrogate Nai, just as he cares about everyone; it's why he's so easy to love and so, so many people have come to love him. (Precious darling boy.) Nevertheless, there are gaps between what Vash needs from Nick and what Nick is capable of giving. And there's one huge glaring difference between Wolfwood and Knives.
That difference meant the hope Vash came to have about confronting Knives in July was misplaced. He just couldn't have known until it was too late.
Part I
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
#trigun stampede#tristampparty#trigun meta#nicholas d. wolfwood#millions knives#vash the stampede#wolfwood's refusal to employ any skill at clandestine operations fucking cracks me up#it's like he's trying to get fired or discharged but he was abducted by a death cult#so he's just incompetent on purpose because fuck all ya'll#what are they going to do. fire him? torture him? shoot him?#bad news about all that stuff guys#meta: my brother's keeper
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I'm so happy to be working on this short story (10 chapters)
Just Desserts is an idea I had a while back (post here), and honestly, it grew into something really beautiful. As much as I avoid it, I genuinely do enjoy writing angsty scenes. So please enjoy this teaser that I wrote while listening to this on repeat. (hits play again) K thanks I love you buh bye!
Levi forced himself up the steps to your apartment, pushing through excruciating pain in his knee as his heart pounded so violently it rattled deep in his ear drums. You wouldn't have left without saying anything. You wouldn't do that to him⊠unlessâŠ
Dread set in, and vision began to tunnel, darkness dancing on the edges as he started skipping steps. The cane fell out of his hands, clattering down before skirting across the ground below; it didn't matter. He had to get to your apartment; you had to be there still, and he had to apologize. Had to tell you the truth.
âFUCK!â He cried out when his left leg refused to lift, unable to clear the top step, body crumbling like a marionette on the small landing that led to the apartment door. He crawled, dragging as he gritted through the sharp pain that ricocheted each vertebra before knocking on the door from where he layâlistening for a moment, hoping to hear the shuffle of footsteps that never came.
He called your name.
No response.
âNo.â He pulled himself to stand on shaking limbs, hands gripping the door for balance as he called out your name, knocking louder this time.
Silence.
âNo, no, no, no.â The words came out in a hushed panic as he turned the doorknob; it was unlocked.
Just as he went to limp into the doorway, a white envelope caught his eye. Laying on the ground, staring back up at him, his name written in the delicate cursive he knew to be your handwriting. Dryness wrapped around his throat like barbed wire. Slowly sliding down against the door, he grasped the envelope and broke its wax seal. Hands shaking as the contents within were pulled out and unfolded. There were so many, many pages. Each with a different date.
âAre theseâŠdiary pages?â
October 12th.
I have never been so embarrassed. I mistook him for a child when he had been so kind to help me with my keys. To add insult to injury, he is the tea shop owner across the way. I donât know how Iâll ever live this down.
That was the first day you met. He flipped through the more recent pages until he found a freshly torn page with no date, only his name. The ink was still fresh and smugged in certain placesâsmall wet spots littered across, making a few letters hard to understand.
Levi,
You're right.
Iâm a coward.
Iâm sorry.
âIdiot,â He murmured as he held the torn pages in his hands, looking up to see that the apartment had been cleaned and what little you did have was gone. The tea plant he gifted you that once sat in the window was missing; only an imprint of where the terracotta bottom sat proved that it was once there. The cat toys that usually litter the floor were gone, as was Louie. With how little you had, it was difficult to tell if leaving was preplanned or done in haste.
Turning back to the pages in hand, he read through each entry. Dates skipped, and with the pages torn, it wasn't hard to put together that you had ripped out every entry that had to do with him.
November 11th.
He wanted to kiss me.
Fear grabbed my stomach, and like a coward, I fiend to be oblivious and went home. I wish I had been brave; why canât I be brave? When I told Martha, I expected her to joke about it, but she just looked sad and hugged me. She told me it was okay. I didn't even know I had started crying until I was struggling to breathe.
He could hear his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw. Every page spelled out in black and white how much you cared and how scared you were. And he had goaded you for it, shouted at you angrily when you were finally brave enough to try and tell him, as awkward as it was. "What have I done?"
Let me know in the comments if you'd like to be tagged as updates and chapters are posted! Tag List:
@l1zk4 @angelofthorr
#levi x reader#levi aot#levi ackerman#levi smut#levi attack on titan#captain levi#JustDeserts#tootoomanycats#levi x you#levi ackerman x you#levi x y/n
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First time posting my writing on Tumblr ajsdhjsahksdhjf i don't take writing requests, it has to come to me naturally, i just got brave enough to post this. morals are so complicated man
A little bit of background info - "Adam and Emily see each other as family" my beloved - Like Charlie, Emily was created as an infant and had a childhood. Sera was mainly her guardian, but Archangel Michael or Adam would visit her or supervise her when Sera was too busy - Emily is referred to as (the) Silverstar, in the same way Lucifer is (the) Morningstar.
I don't have a title for this it's just "unnamed Emily and Adam writing"
Trigger Warnings: Adam, swearing, mention of murder and blood
âKid, Adam is busy right now. Heâll talk to you after.â Lute continued to skillfully maneuver Emily back towards the entrance of the lobby in the Exorcistâs building whenever she would try to skirt past the Exorcist.
âOut of- Iâm older than you- why wonât you move- let me- Iâm trying to-â Emily tripped over her words as she tried once again to shove past Lute and get to the double doors that lead to the meeting hall. Luteâs pushback was gentle, but Emily could feel the strong muscles of her arm through her shoulder-length glove. She felt the hairs along her arms raiseâ how had she been so oblivious? Adam had a whole flock of uniformed, lean girls and Emily had never even once wondered why they were all so formal and fit. She felt like such an idiot.
âYouâll have a chance to talk with him after.â Lute repeated more firmly.
âAfter his army kills more souls?!â Emily cried out. âI want to talk to him to prevent that!â
âKind words have never worked.â Lute scoffed. âYou cannot make Adam call off the Exterminations. Sera has already approved of the mid-year.â
Emily put her hands on Luteâs shoulders, putting her face right in front of Luteâs. The blank white eyes of the lieutenantâs mask widened in surprise. âPlease, just listen to me! Those are souls, just like ours! They donât deserve-â
âSilverstar, with all due respect, sinners are not like our souls. They earned their damnation. They had their chances to reform in life, and they didnât.â
âBut Charlie-â
âThat repulsive Hellspawn has gotten into your head!â Lute spat. Emily shrunk back, regretting having brought up the princess. âHer and that traitor girlfriend of hers! Theyâre trying to corrupt you! To corrupt Heavenâs values! Redemption is not possible, this is the only way to prevent-â
âFuck, Lute, I was looking everywhere for you-â The door swung open as a familiar face stepped out. Adam cut himself off, mouth still hanging open, as he met eyes with Emily.
âOh, thank the Father!â Lute had her guard down in her momentary surprise, and Emily nimbly swept past her, running up to Adam and grabbing him by the hand. âAdam, please, Iâm begging you, you need to cancel the Exterminations, I canât bear to think ofââ Emily choked on what she was about to say, you murdering more human souls, and quickly searched for an alternativeâ âanybody getting hurt, not if it can be stopped!â
Adam regarded Emily. His mask had never given way to much emotion, and yet the conflict in his face had never been more evident. His expression seemed to flash through the five stages of grief at least 5 times before he sighed and pulled his hand from Emilyâs. âNobodyâs getting hurt.â He mumbled.
Emily felt her shoulders sag with relief. âOh thank you, thank you! I was so worried-â
âNobodyâs getting hurt ever again. Weâre going to go down there and make sure those disgusting demon cunts never make it to the pearly gates.â
Emily let out a cry of anguish. âNo! No no, you canât! You canât hurt them! Donât hurt Charlie! Donât hurt her friends! Donât hurt her people!â
âSinners arenât people!â Adam snarled. Emily backed up as the first man unfurled his golden wings. âSinners lost their humanity when they committed the heinous fucking acts that landed them down there! You canât hurt them, thereâs nothing to fucking hurt!â
âThatâs not true!â Emily tried to stifle tears. âThey made mistakes, but theyâre still people, and people can always change!â
âThey canât change what they did.â Lute added coldly.
Emily wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingers into her arms. âSo how are you any better? You canât fight fire with fire!â
Adam opened his mouth, face swelling with anger. At Emilyâs flinch, Adam closed his mouth again and took a breath, rubbing his temples as he tried to recollect his thoughts. âYou just wouldnât understand. Sinners are hellbent on causing misery. You havenât been in Hell like me-â
âAnd how many times have you been in Hell? How long have you been killing without telling me?â Emily curled her lip. âWere the hands you cradled me with when I was just created the same hands I see now, stained with the blood of thousands of damned souls?â
For the first time in this exchange, Adam physically winced. Emily heard his teeth grind together from under his helmet. He opened his mouth and spoke slowly. âThere was going to be an uprising.â Emily blinked at him, eyes widening. âThey were trying to put together a rebellion. Their demonic magic was growing fucking stronger by the second, and Sera wanted a solution.â Adam balled his hands into a fist. âThere was only one way to keep Heaven safe.â
âIt- Thatâs not-â Emily felt a warm tear leak from her eye, emotion welling up inside her heart. Lute walked past her and over to Adam as he put a hand on the door handle.
âI need to prepare. We can talk about this shit after.â
As Adam swung the door open and allowed his lieutenant the courtesy of heading into the meeting hall first, Emily stared after him, expression vacant. âI wonât forgive you.â
Adamâs shoulders rose and his feathers puffed ever so slightly. He didnât turn to look at her. âOkay.â
He followed Lute through the door and shut it behind him, leaving Emily alone.
Emily stared at the door. In a bright flash of pure light, three white wings stretched out to their full expansion, and three eyes widened. Emily let out a snarling cry as she transfigured to her full angelic form and backed away from the door. She had never felt such rage consume her. âWhy does nobody listen to me?!â She spat. She turned heel and fled, fled out the door of the Exorcistâs quarters and took to the sky. Her own feet, her own wings, it seemed to be the only thing she could control anymore. She felt hopeless against her superiors, against their ideals, against her own emotions. Everything she had known seemed to be one big lie. The world was not black and whiteâ so why were their solutions? Not every sinner was an irredeemable spirit of sin and destruction, and not every angel was pure, virtuous and clean. Adam had been playing saint all this time and lying to Emilyâs face. She wiped off her eyes as she entered the rotunda to make her way to her quarters, before she collided with someone in the entrance.
âSorry-â Emily cut herself off as she looked up at the older seraph.
âEmily! Where were you?â Sera asked tersely.
âWith AdamâŠâ she sighed. âI just⊠I wanted him to⊠I donât want him to go through with the ExterminationsâŠâ She looked away from Seraâs gaze. âI canât stand the thought of himâŠâ
Sera sighed. âI know. I donât like it either.â She guided Emily out of the doorway and into the rotunda.
âThen why do you allow it?â There wasnât much challenge to the question, rather a forlorn attempt to grasp at some kind of explanation.
âI never would have, had it not been required.â Seraâs answer was pretty much the same as what Adam offered.
Emily sniffed. She swallowed back the response âthere has to be another wayâ, not interested in starting another argument. Besides, Sera had already told her what happens to those who question too much. Instead, she brought up what else was now weighing on her mind. ââŠI said I wouldnât forgive him.â
âHm?â Sera raised an eyebrow.
âI told Adam I wouldnât forgive him after he came back from the Exterminations.â Emily looked at the ground. âBut I want to be able to forgive him. If I refuse to forgive, Iâm refusing the idea of people changing.â She squeezed her hands together. âI know he can change. I just donât want more people to get hurt before then.â
The expression that flashed through Seraâs face was torn and pained. Emily guessed she should get used to loved ones looking at her like that. âI⊠I do want you to forgive him.â She began. âThough Iâm not sure how to feel about your reasoning. People can change, butâŠâ She sighed. âThat does not mean they are forgivable.â
Emily grimaced. Why did it have to be so complicated? âOnly time will tell.â She hummed. Sera didnât answer. With a sad glance, Emily made her way past Sera and to her living quarters. She wasnât going to give in easily. Once Adam got back, they would talk and they would figure things out.
[divider credit]
#and then adam didn't return đ#if nobody got me#i know angst got me#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#lute#hazbin hotel lute#lute hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#lute hazbin#emily#hazbin hotel emily#emily hazbin hotel#hazbin emily#emily hazbin#adam#adam my beloved#hazbin hotel adam#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin adam#adam hazbin#sera#hazbin hotel sera#sera hazbin hotel#hazbin sera#sera hazbin#hazbin hotel writing#hazbin hotel oneshots#tw swearing#hooffulofscrawls
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A Night for Us by Roaming Tigress Hosea and Dutch break into New York's Luna Park one Christmas day in the 1920s -- and revisit memories of Christmas pasts.
A Night for Us by Roaming Tigress
Luna Park.
A vibrant slice of electric heaven in Brooklyn's Coney Island; a picture of modernity, adventure and wonder awaits you on every corner of its expanse.
Such a place isn't where most would expect to find a pair of old men seeking (mis)adventure in the Roaring Twenties, but, here we are.
"Dutch, I don't think you're quite as nimble these days."
My idiot husband listens as well as he always hasâbarely at all.
"Just one more rung, Old Girl!"
He's climbing up a damn iron gate. It's part of a grand entrance with splendid art deco styling, its electric lighting visible for miles at night on Surfside Avenue. One slip could result in an embarrassing end to his storied life.
Now, I'm sure you're telling yourself: has Dutch truly lost it?
Well, possible. But I think to have "lost it", you'd have to have it in the first place.
But, let me tell you one little detail.
It's Christmas, and the park is closed on Christmas.
Did you think it would stop us?
No.
To my relief, Dutch came down from the gate on the opposite side without breaking his neck. That stupid, handsome grin of his could light up the whole park -- and the rest of Brooklyn.
"That was easy enough 'sea!"
I scoff. It wasn't easy for me to watch.
I love that fool.
Now it was my turn to come down the gate; after all, someone had to keep an eye on Dutch. It would be irresponsible for me to let him run rampant in such a place -- heaven knows what he'd do. There may be no park left to reopen in the new year!
And besides, why should he have all the fun?
I was a touch more cautious, mind; he was hovering right underneath me with his arms out as if he wanted me to let go and catch me. But as to not give him the satisfaction of wanting to play big brave rescuer, as if waiting to catch some fair maiden escaping a witch's castle, I managed to climb down the gate without as much as a scuffed nail.
"Not bad."
Now Dutch scoffed, giving me a poke to the ribs as I have done to him many times to keep him in line.
"You were worried."
I give Dutch a jab back; he lets out a most manly squeak; still ticklish!. "Funeral costs have gone up these days."
Dutch rolled with the punch. We hadn't lost a step in that area; in fact, we've gotten sharper, seemingly knowing what the other one would react, and would say next.
"Save yourself a little money and take me to the taxidermist instead!"
I threw my next punch. "As if I'd want to see your ugly old mug over the mantle!"
He dodged.
"Who said it had to be the mantle? I think I could look rather dashing over my spot on the bed!"
I sass back. Dutch is really pushing to get coal for Christmas.
"I don't think I want nightmares!"
Then I get it. I really get it.
Dutch tossed a snowball at me. I didn't even see him make it. I expertly dodge.
"Almost!" I brag, tossing one right back, getting him square in that wonderful big forehead of his and acting completely oblivious to it.
And then he hands me the old man's memories card as he whirls me under his arm, with much the same elegance and grace he had done when he was younger. "You used to say, 'almost' isn't good enough."
I was referring to aiming his gun; he wasn't terrible at shooting, but let's just say, I polished up his skills. And here he is, haunting me with those words some thirty-odd years later -- in the context of snowball fights.
He laughs that hearty laugh as he spins me around again, out into the grand entrance of Luna Park's electric circus.
Only the 'circus' has packed up the tent for the remainder of the week.
Gone are the bustling crowds that would pour through this spot where Dutch twirled me. Many would be rushing towards ticket booths for their rides -- perhaps the Parachute Jump, the Dragon Gorge -- while others visiting the concession kiosks to fuel up for the day; popcorn, peanuts, cotton candy. Those families who took in the stunning marvel that is the Electric Tower watched trained leopards perform and rode the latest state-of-the-art rides have settled in their homes for the holidays, maybe listening to holiday tunes on the radio.
There's still a faint smell of buttered popcorn in the air from yesterday's Christmas Eve, the last day the park was open for the year. And indeed, some was left behind in a popcorn cart. It was parked by a souvenir shop which sold pennants featuring the trademark grinning 'Tilly' face stamped on with 'Luna Park.'
I see a sparkle in Dutch's eye; I know what he's thinking. First popcorn, then a pennant.
I quirk an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure that popcorn's stale now -- "
Dutch flashed me a cheeky grin, acting as if I hadnât seen him snatch a pennant and shove it into some hidden pocket of his coat, which Iâm convinced leads to an endless void. It's probably where he stashes all those plans.
"It'll only get more stale without someone eatin' it."
Before I could retort, he whipped out his trusted lock pick from an inside pocket of his black bear fur coat and flashed it to me with a grin. He knew damn well he could have got through the gates with it, but where was the fun in that?
"We could get popcorn theft to our list of crimes, 'sea!" He made a showing of picking the lock of the popcorn cart.
Yes, I'm excited about the prospect of that report getting around; Hosea Matthews and Dutch van der Linde are now wanted for the theft of stale popcorn and a Tilly pennant on Coney Island's Luna Park on Christmas. Rival gangs near and far would flee in terror.
Still, I take my bag from him -- costing me a nickel -- and let him lead the way.
I snort, leaning in as I munch on a few pieces, taking in the eclectic settings. I've secretly made a mental note to come back in season, a surprise for our wedding anniversary.
"I think the Pinkertons would be stretched to their resources with that one."
Dutch chuckles; more easily amused these days, even by his own little comments and jokes, and I cherish it.
"What would you say if I took you on a ride?" Dutch asks smoothly, pulling me close in his arm, making it impossible to resist. I could have retorted with a quip about him already taking me for a ride, but I chose to let him run the show. He's a little frailer these days on account of the rigours of old age, but, he still holds me close and his hold is snug, almost shoving me into his coat. I feel so warm, almost not needing my own.
An inner voice said no, this was luna-cy; what would he know about operating one of these things? He decided that if nobody was around to operate, he'd play the part himself.
Foolish, very foolish.
But I said, yes.
I've said 'yes' to a lot of risky things in my life; starting a gang, willingly getting myself into all sorts of schemes, situations and scenarios to varying degrees of success -- a few that resulted in me getting caught and put behind bars -- but getting married to Dutch van der Linde was the biggest risk I have ever taken. In our stories, I may come upon as being completely exasperated, and while there may be some truth behind that, I do not regret saying 'yes' to that man.
Damn it, I love Dutch.
A reminder of how much I love him was when he offered me some of his popcorn in his fingers. I have plenty of my own, but . . . I softly nibble it out of his fingers, gently brushing them with a kiss. The wondrous surroundings we're in almost seem to have melted away.
"You remember our first Christmas when I did that . . . ?" Dutch asked in a tone softer than his usual.
I smile, leaning my head against his shoulder as he leads me down past a kiosk that hawks linen textured coloured postcards during the park's opening hour, just behind the gates. He swiped one behind the desk and into his coat it went. Another crime on the Pinkerton watch.
"I do . . . " I smile; that was nearly forty years ago. We had scammed a gentleman into taking a horse with hung papers (falsified pedigree) and well, he wasn't too pleased about it. We chose to lay low versus taking on the gang he ran with, a rough bunch that once dominated Grizzlies East.
"I remember it being incredibly windy and cold and watching the snow blow around as we popped the popcorn over the fire. Nice little homestead out by Window Rock. You were still a little bit shy, but so charming. You heard my stomach rumbling and thought I needed a snack break. So you took some popcorn out of the bowl and offered it to me by hand."
Dutch gently twirled me again, past a ticket booth, and another kiosk that sold cotton candy. The sweet smell still lingered there, though not a trace was left, to our disappointment.
"You ended up having most of the bowl. I settled for dried venison and cranberries."
Mercifully he got a turkey later on in the day when the snow cleared.
I shake my head, letting out a feigned dramatic sigh. "Are we going to bring that up again?"
"Either that or the ugly gloves I made you." The crinkles around his eyes are more evident now as he smiles, particularly when he feels cheeky, and I love them all the more.
"Don't remind me!" I tease.
Oh, they were ugly gloves, made of cowhide poached from Emerald Ranch, but oh, they were loved. And despite the crudeness of their design, they lasted damn near nine years.
"Were they really that much uglier than that satchel you made me?" He laughed, leading me past a series of shuttered kiosks; they held little interest to him as there was nothing visible for him to grab.
"You told me it was from bobcat, but I ain't never seen a bobcat grey with black stripes!"
It was one of my earlier attempts to con Dutch. No need to judge; I learned from that experience.
He led me down further into the park, past more shuttered vendors and snow-dusted children's rides, before we came up to an elegant carousel, the Ocean Wave. It was a beauty brought in for the 1907 season and was due for replacement. The horses were still elegant in design but paint was well worn on their saddles and the horse hair tails were sparser now, evidenced by much use. But like us, there was still some life left in the old gal.
"I think a carousel would be more of your style?" Dutch suggested, gently easing me in front of him for me to take a better look. I caught him earlier eyeballing the tall wooden structures of roller coasters further into the park. I tugged at his sleeve in a polite 'no.' He had pretended to not have noticed, in his eagerness to take me on a tour of the grounds.
My eyes bright up even more than they already were. Yes, I love carousels; I always have, ever since I was a boy (and I was one at one point). This man knows me a bit!
"Might as well take a spin on her before she goes for firewood," I muse with a twinge of sadness, taking in the intricate craftwork, and step back as he hits the switch of the power. My adoration of them was infectious; it was yet another opportunity for Dutch to get sappy with me.
"I suppose I could trust you with a carousel." I chuckle, choosing a grey horse that looks much like my dear old Silver Dollar, and Dutch hops on, right behind me, a bit of a surprise given I thought he was going to choose the white horse in front.
But I can't complain.
Dutch secured me with a gentle embrace as the horse, in a frozen mid-gallop, moved up and down in a gentle rhythm with the music. The natural light was dimming now, and a big "pop" of the light would surely draw attention from any security guard if there were any in the area. Admittedly, it added a little excitement.
"Just in case you fall off," Dutch teased, leaning that wonderful cleft chin on my shoulder. "Saving you the embarrassment of going out on a stolen away ride on a carousel."
I scoff. "Getting me back from earlier?"
"Maybe." I didn't even need to turn around to see that he had that grin on his face again.
I had to grin as he kissed me on the cheek. Now I know the real reason for him joining me on the ride; just to nuzzle as many kisses on me as he could until the end of the ride. He was being terribly distracting, but I couldn't get mad; he was being awfully sweet.
"You really haven't forgotten much, have you?" I asked in a gentle tone, reaching a hand around to touch his; he had been forgetting the odd thing, such as locking the doors, and then worrying if he hadn't locked them, sometimes waking up from a deep sleep to do so, but he's held onto nostalgia like a steel trap.
Dutch answered me with a distinct hint of vulnerability, that had been absent since his arrival in the park. "You don't let me forget."
I unexpectedly feel a catch to my throat as he leans in to give another soft kiss on the cheek.
"You're right, I don't."
I give that hand, slightly more bonier than it once was, a gentle squeeze.
"Do you remember that state fair we went to?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Went on the night it officially started. I wanted to kiss you on the carousel."
Dutch's nostalgia pool is still deep.
And that was what brought us to New York; Dutch had wanted to keep those memories alive by reliving them again. While the gang remained outside the city limits, he stole me away for Christmas, not giving me a hint as to where we were going.
I carefully turn around in his arms, careful not to slip and give a reason for Dutch to play hero by readying to catch me again, and slowly, tenderly, we kiss. This time, I'm holding him, as if subtly telling him to not worry about his memories; I'll always have a hold onto them for him.
At that moment, the rest of the world seemed to melt away, and it was only us. In our minds, the infirmities of old age had melted away and were replaced with our youth again; only I pictured Dutch wearing his mustache. Now your preference may differ (facial hair is a subjective matter) but when I look back, I think he looked a bit silly without it.
Our kiss broke when the music slowed to a stop. We hadn't even noticed the sky had faded from its pinkish-blueish hue of a winter's sky to near black. We were lost within each other, something that has been happening with comforting frequency as of late.
"Even better than that time, 'sea."
I've always loved how he had shortened my name, short already. It's endearing.
"I think we could check out the Electric Tower and . . . " His eyes light up, and his features are handsomely reflected by the carousel lights that had yet to shut off.
"I think I have a surprise."
He had been studying some sort of map for weeks leading up to the move to New York; now I know what he was planning.
Off we went again, but not before Dutch hit the switch on a pole for electric power, and it was then that the park truly became electrifying; one by one, brilliant displays of lights switched on, and some rides even came to life.
One of those rides was the famed Dragon Gorge.
Against my better judgement, I decide to let Dutch drag me along onto it. To those not familiar, think of an ornately decorated indoor rollercoaster, featuring mock scenes of varying dioramic scenes of our nation, from the Arctic and Rocky Mountains to historical events, such as the Battle of Port Arthur, the explosion of the U S.S Maine which got us into the Spanish-American War. Guarding us on our journey were a set of magnificent 45-foot-tall plaster dragons poised outside, with a fantastical wing span. Like the horses we rose on, they were intricately designed, with green, glowing eyes.
The ride -- an idea borne out of sheer spontaneity out of Dutch -- was more fun than I had anticipated it to be, and when it came to its stop, off we went to that majestic Electric Tower.
This was a structure made for the 1901 Pan-American Exposition, and a sign boasts of having no less than 44, 000 lightbulbs, eight watts apparently. This amazing display of modern design was featured in Dutch's stolen postcard. And speaking of the devil, Dutch had wanted to climb up it for a better view -- and drag me along. For amazing as it must be, I stood my ground firm; we had enough climbing for one day, let's not further risk the wrath of the trespassing gods, I didn't think I could catch Dutch if he lost his footing and fell.
And so off to the next destination, our surprise destination; something, to my delight, as something I was a bit of an old master in.
Ice skating.
The venue is converted for swimming in the summer, but for now, it was a skating rink for two.
A few stolen pairs of rental skates later, and we were out on the ice. My beloved husband, bless him, has long lacked coordination in this department. For several years I have patiently tried to help him skate somewhat more gracefully than a skittish moose on a frozen lake. After six years, we finally concluded that we can't all be good at everything, even Dutch.
But oh, how delighted he was to find out there was a skating rink in the park, for me!
"That's it, Dutch, I think . . .I think we're finally getting it!" I spoke proudly when his long legs had at once stopped acting like they were made of rubber; he was slightly cheating, as he carefully held onto me, but he was trying, for me.
"It only took eight years," Dutch scoffed.
I gently corrected. "Fifteen."
Another snort from my husband. Stubborn as always!
"Nonsense."
I stood my ground.
Again.
"Fifteen years."
As Dutch crossed his arms like a petulant child, he realized he wasn't holding onto me. Slowly but surely, he came to the realization that, by George, he's finally got it.
I gently took the lead when I felt we were steady and ready, and slowly, we kissed, under this night for us.
#christmas 2024#christmas#rdr2#vandermatthews wednesday#red dead redemption 2#vandermatthews#hosea matthews#dutch van der linde#vdm#hosea x dutch#dutch x hosea#rdr2 hosea matthews#rdr2 dutch van der linde#hosea matthews rdr2#dutch van der linde rdr2#rdr2 dutch#rdr2 hosea#hosea rdr2#dutch rdr2#van der linde gang#vdl gang#Luna Park#New York#rdr2 fan fiction#rdr2 fanfiction#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 fan fic#red dead redemption 2 fan fiction#red dead redemption 2 fanfiction#red dead redeption 2 fan fic
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Happy Holidays, You Idiot (Soap x Ghost)
By the fucking grace of God, the 141 gets leave for the holidays. Soap almost feels like kissing someone. It's been too long since he's been home, and even longer since he's seen his family. He's looking forward to itâcan't wait, reallyâbut then he hears that Ghost will be spending Christmas alone and, well... that just won't do. One thing leads to another, and that's how Soap winds up back home, masked L.T. in tow, ready to brave the season... and pretend he doesn't have a massive crush on his superior officer.
Too bad Soap's family can see right through him. Hopefully Ghost is a little more oblivious.
AO3
It's a goddamn Christmas miracle. It has to be. Lately, leave's been few and far between for the rest of the base, let alone the 141, and Soap had already prepared himself for the inevitable "no, I won't be able to make it home for the holidays" conversation he'd need to have with his mother. She always understands, eventually, even though Soap knows it kills her to not have her youngest home for Christmas. Still, she usually tells him not to get himself into too much trouble, and Soap pretends he doesn't hear the worry in her voice.
"I know ye can handle yourself, dear," she'd told him one Easter, "but please tell me ye've got someone to look after ye."
"Aye, Ma, I do," he'd reassured her. "We all take care o' each other." Then, before he could stop himself: "And nobody's takin' me down while Ghost's still breathin'."
"Ghost?" Soap had winced at the curiosity in her voice. "Is he the one with the mask in that picture ye sent us?"
"Aye, that'd be him."
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he's a right terror!"
Soap had laughed, told her she didn't know the half of it, and that had been enough to get her to stop worrying for the time being. He hadn't made it home for Christmas that year, either, but his mother seemed a little more okay with it since she knew he was in good hands.
Now, though, Soap can hardly believe it as Price announces they can all go home for a few weeks. There's a barely hidden smile on the Captain's face as Gaz lets out an excited whoop and immediately dashes towards his room to start packing. Soap tries not to immediately follow suit. He's excited, sure, but he knows that if he starts getting ready now, he'll finish too early and have nothing to do until the plane takes off. The anticipation would just about kill him.
His eyes flick to Ghost, who takes the news as silently as he takes everything else. Briefly, Soap thinks he sees a flash of something behind the mask, but it's gone before he can think too much about it. He frowns. Ghost never takes leave, never talks about it. As far as Soap knows, he stays on base if he can, doesn't tell anybody where he goes if he can't. Regardless, Soap's pretty sure Ghost is alone no matter the occasion.
The thought of his lieutenant spending the holidays by himself makes Soap's heart twist. When Price leaves to start making preparations of his own, Soap jogs to catch up to Ghost, who's already halfway out of the room. Ghost glances down at him, eyebrow raised, but doesn't say anything that would suggest Soap should clear out.
"So," Soap says as casually as he can. "We get t' go home for the holidays. Bit of a surprise, eh l.t?"
Ghost lifts one shoulder in half of a shrug. "Bound to happen eventually."
"My ma's gonna be thrilled. Da, too." Soap smiles, already looking forward to seeing them both. "And I s'pose I should tell my brothers as well. Bastards."
At this, Ghost finally looks at him. "You have brothers?"
"Aye." Soap rolls his eyes. "Two of them. They just about skinned me alive when I enlisted, said if they wound up burying me, they'd dig me up just to kill me again." He snorts at the memory. "I'm the youngest, so I guess it's their job to give me hell."
Ghost huffs at that, something halfway between a laugh and a scoff, and Soap grins.
"What about you?" Soap can feel his curiosity threatening to drown him. "What are ye gonna do with all this free time, eh?"
For a moment, Ghost doesn't answer. If Soap wasn't watching him, he would have missed the way his eyes widened ever so slightly behind the mask, the way his shoulders tensed like he's ready for a fight. It must be a sore subject, and Soap feels his smile dim a bit.
"Ye don't have to tell me," he starts, but Ghost is already shaking his head.
"Thought I might stay here," he says, like it's normal and obvious and decidedly not the saddest thing Soap's heard all day. Brown eyes glance over at him, and Ghost must see something on his face, because he shrugs again and continues: "Holidays don't do much for me."
Soap gapes at him. "But it's Christmas."
"It's December 10th, Johnny."
"Ach, ye ken what I mean." Soap rolls his eyes, recognizing the diversion for what it is. "So... what? Ye'll spend the whole time on base?"
Ghost hums. He sounds entirely unbothered by the whole situation. "Something like that."
He's clearly trying to get Soap to drop the subject, and indeed, there isn't much to go on. But Soap's not so easily deterred. The holidays are a big deal in his familyâespecially Christmasâand he can't imagine anyone wanting to spend them alone.
That's when the idea hits him: the wonderful, beautiful, absolutely idiotic idea that's sure to get him in more trouble than he's worth.
"Well now," he says, his smile returning with a vengeance. "I can't have ye spendin' Christmas by yerself, Ghost."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Soap knows he's in for it. He doesn't regret them, not in the slightest, but it's far too late to take them back.
Ghost eyes him suspiciously. "What's that s'posed to mean?"
"It means," Soap isn't sure why his heart suddenly beats a little faster in his chest, but he skillfully keeps it from showing, "that yer comin' with me."
It's definitely not protocol to give a command to his superior officer. And it shows. Ghost stops walking so abruptly that his boots almost squeak on the floor, and he slowly cranes his head to the side until he's staring down at Soap. For a moment, Soap's not sure he's going to survive long enough to make it home for the holidays, and he starts going through a mental catalogue of people he wants at his funeral.
Great. Wonder what cemetery my brothers'll have to dig me out of.
Ghost keeps staring at him, face carefully neutral. Neither one of them so much as breathes.
"What?" Ghost eventually asks, breaking the silence. His voice sounds like he's swallowed a bag of rocks.
It's even harder than usual for him to focus, what with Ghost's eyes, still smudged with greasepaint, looking at him so intently. But Soap holds his ground. He can already feel the corners of his lips twitching with another mischievous smile.
"I said," he continues, rolling his shoulders back, "yer comin' with me. To Glasgow. For Christmas."
Ghost shakes his head. "No."
"Yes."
"Johnny..." A warning.
Soap chuckles and punches Ghost lightly on the arm, pretending that his skin doesn't light up at the contact. "Aw, c'mon l.t," he whines. "It'll be fun! Da always makes too much food anyways, an' I can show ye around the city."
"I don'tâ" Ghost rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "I don't do holidays, Johnny."
"That's because ye've never spent them with my family." Soap practically bounces on his feet as Ghost starts walking again. "Ye can still wear the mask, if that's what yer worried about."
Ghost huffs out a sigh. "That's notâI'm not worried about anything, Sergeant. I just don't think it's a good idea."
"It's a great idea!" Soap knows he's practically begging at this point, but he can't bring himself to care. Nobody deserves to spend Christmas alone. Not even Ghost. "An' if ye won't come with me, then I'll stay here... but yer gonna have to explain to m' Ma why she won't be seein' her babe."
It's a low blow for sure, but if Soap's learned one thing in the 141, it's that in order to win, you have to fight dirty. He sees the exact moment it works, watches as Ghost glowers at him like he's ten seconds away from ripping Soap's head off with his bare hands. Soap just beams at him.
"Fine," Ghost grinds out through his teeth.
He sounds irritated, but there's a hint of softness in his eyes that Soap's learned is mostly reserved for him. His heart does a flip, but he forces it back down before it can beat out of his chest.
"Knew ye'd warm up to me, l.t," he says, patting Ghost on the arm again before turning around. The entire time, he'd been walking in the opposite direction of his room. "Just ye wait: we're gonna have a blast!"
/ / /
The full gravity of what he's done doesn't hit Soap until later that evening. He's in the mess hall when it happens, listening to Gaz rattle on about what to get his little sister for Christmas. Admittedly, Soap isn't really paying attention. His mind keeps wandering back to Ghost. The man was really prepared to spend the holidays alone. Worse than that, he was prepared to spend them on base. Soap knows Ghost is a private man, probably doesn't get out much even when he does go home. It sounds like a lonely life. Not that that's too unusualâin their line of work, it's all part of the gig.
Still, it doesn't sit right. Soap has to wonder what happened in Ghost's past that turned him into who he is today.
"âoap. Soap. Are you even listening?"
Gaz's voice brings Soap back to reality. He blinks, disoriented, and then smiles apologetically.
"Sorry Gaz," he says. "I was thinkin' about something else."
Rolling his eyes, Gaz reaches for his cup of water. There's a barely-noticeable smirk on his lips as he takes a sip. "Those thoughts have anything to do with a certain masked l.t?"
Soap groans, head tilting back to hit the wall with a dull thunk. "How'd ye know?"
"It's not that hard to guess."
Sighing, Soap leans forward and absently mixes the mashed potatoes on his tray. He hopes Gaz is the only one who can read him so well.
"Can I ask you a direct question?" Gaz says after maybe three seconds of silence.
Soap shrugs and shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Shoot."
"Are you two fucking?"
He inhales the potatoes instead of swallowing them, and nearly hacks up a lung trying to get them out. Gaz watches him instead of helping. There's a knowing look in his eyes that makes Soap's face flush.
"Gaz, what the fuck?" He chokes.
To his credit, Gaz doesn't waver, just keeps looking at Soap with that same steady smirk. "Well?"
"No!" Soap vehemently shakes his head. "I'm notâhe's not... I don't even think he... Gaz!"
Gaz laughs and slides Soap's tray away from him. "Calm down, MacTavish, it was just a question."
"Pretty personal one."
Without his food to mess with, Soap bounces his leg up and down underneath the table. Gaz gives him a shit-eating grin, tips his fingers in a mock salute, and downs the rest of his water.
"For the record," he says, ignoring Soap as he glares at him, "I think you two would be cute together. I mean, you're obviously head over heels for the guyâ"
"I am not."
Gaz quirks an eyebrow. "Really?" He lowers the glass of water to give Soap a look. "Then why'd you ask him to spend Christmas with you?"
Soap's eyes widen. "How did yeâ"
"Price."
It takes a moment for the name to register, and then Soap drops his head into his hands. Great. Ghost must've complained to their Captain, and now word's going to go around the whole base. Price may be good at keeping classified information a secret, but he's terrible when it comes to gossip.
"He was going to spend Christmas alone, Gaz," Soap finally says. "Christmas. What was I s'posed to do?"
When he finally brings himself to look up, Gaz is laughing at him.
"John MacTavish," he says as he slowly shakes his head. "You are so fucked."
//
Hey hi I don't even go here, but have chapter one of a SoapGhost Christmas fic
#soapghost#john soap mactavish#soap cod#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x soap#ghoap#ghoap fic#soap x ghost
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Just a Favor | pt 4 | Gwynriel
⊠Warnings: all fluff
⊠Word Count: 1.4k
⊠AO3 Link
⊠Masterlist
Azriel was not at training the next morning. Cassian led the Valkyries assisted by Nesta. Gwyn noticed, of course, but preferred to go about as usual. She thanked the Mother that no one said anything about him so she had no opportunity to blush and stutter and look like an idiot.
By the end of the session, though, she was feeling a little desperate. So much energy filled her body and the exercise had done nothing to reduce it. It was equal parts nervousness and excitement, tangling together and filling her blood with adrenaline. Her entire world was on the verge of some monumental change and all she could do was wait.
âGwyneth,â A deep voice startled her from her thoughts. She whirled around from the weapons rack to find Azriel looking down at her, holding a little bouquet of daisies.
âCauldron boil me,â She breathed, placing a hand on her chest. Her gaze swept over his figure, checking for any changes since she had seen him last. It was only a couple of days ago but it felt like so much longer.
She noticed the way his fingers trembled around the stems of the flowers and his restless wings, twitching and fidgeting. His eyes were wide and full of anxiety, with purple smudged underneath like he hadnât been sleeping much. His shadows rushed toward her as usual, twining around her limbs and through her hair.
As for Azriel, he could not help smiling. He took her in and decided she looked more beautiful than ever, even with her face streaked with dirt and her hair stuck down with sweat. Especially so, because he loved that she was a warrior. If he was brave enough, he'd drop to his knees right then and ask her to be his forever.
They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other while they thought about each other. Completely oblivious to Cassian and Nesta exchanging wry smiles and pretending not to watch.
âDid you need something?â Gwyn asked, her voice soft, teal eyes still locked on his hazel ones.
âYes,â Azriel swallowed and held out the bouquet, âI wanted to say sorry again. In person. And I wanted to ask you to meet me here tonight.â
Gwyn's heart pounded as she took the flowers, taking care not to brush his fingers. She wasn't sure if she could handle it at that moment. It would only remind her of his touch in the moonlight on the bank of the stream. Her rosy cheeks dimpled as she grinned up at him.
âYou don't have to be sorry,â She said, just above a whisper, âWhat would you like to meet for?â
âI would like to talk to you about something,â He said, cursing himself for his stiffness, âNothing bad.â
âAs long as I'm not in trouble,â Gwyn smiled, tilting her head in that alluring way.
âIs 7 okay?â Azriel asked, voice trembling just a touch.
âI'll be here.â
Azriel gave her a nod and then turned, making his way back to the House. Gwyn watched his back as he left, clutching the daisies in her hands and trying to collect herself. She was dizzy, body even more jittery than before.
He wouldn't ask for a private meeting just to tell her she was a terrible kisser, right?
In all of the turmoil of the past few days, there was one thing that Azriel clung to. It was the first thing he'd thought of as he'd flown into the night, leaving Gwyn on the ground as a small smudge of copper.
He was nervous, possibly as nervous as he had been to show up at the training ring to see Gwyn. He had another bouquet in one hand, pink and yellow lilies, and a box of pastries wrapped with ribbon in the other.
He paused on the doorstep of the little cottage, wondering if she'd open it before he could knock like usual. But he'd surprised her this time and he found himself staring at the closed door. He couldn't help smiling as he knocked, anticipating her reaction.
The grey haired woman appeared in the doorway with furrowed eyebrows, ready to tell off unwanted visitors. But then she saw that it was Azriel and a grin spread across her weathered face.
âMy boy,â She reached out her arms for him, hugging him around the gifts he carried.
He ducked into the cottage and put his gifts on the kitchen table. His mother clocked the wringing of his hands immediately, the restlessness in his eyes.
âYouâve come to me with troubles today?â She asked in her lilting voice. Azriel would never get tired of it. He would always be the little boy inside that longed to hear just a little more of her voice before being locked in the darkness for another week.
âNot troubles,â He said as she put the kettle on the stove. He'd do it for her if she'd let him but she never would. He also stifled his protest as she put a napkin in front of him and set a pastry from the box on it.
âTell me,â She demanded, sitting across from him and picking a pecan roll for herself, âI'm desperate for gossip these days.â
Azriel had been determined to hold it together. But it was impossible, in front of this woman with such soft eyes and so much love for him. It mingled with the joy and relief and nervousness he was already holding inside and became something overwhelming. His throat ached as tears threatened to spill over.
âMama,â He croaked, âI have a mate.â
âAzriel,â She breathed, her roll pausing halfway between the table and her mouth. Then she was up, snack forgotten, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. She knew how long he'd been waiting for something like this.
âMama,â He chuckled, trying to loosen her grasp around his neck.
âWho is she?â She demanded, reaching for the kettle as it began to squeal.
âHer name is Gwyneth,â He said, as shy as a school boy revealing a crush. âShe works in the library. And she won the Blood Rite last year.â
âThe Blood Rite?â His mother cried, putting the kettle down so she did not scald herself in her surprise. Azriel nodded, eyes glowing with pride.
âShe's a Valkyrie.â
âThat's a match made by the cauldron if I ever heard one,â She smiled, tilting her head to the side and watching the way his shadows sped up as he talked about her. âI will meet her, right?â
âOf course,â Azriel said, smile fading, âBut I haven't told her yet. I asked her to meet me tonight.â
âAh, that's why you're acting like a little boy the night before Valentine's Day,â She laughed and set a cup of tea before him.
âI am not,â He protested, grinning in spite of himself. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and breathed the familiar scent of cinnamon and ginger.
âYou're worried she won't accept?â
Azriel nodded. His mother said nothing, only took a sip of her tea and then got up from the table, disappearing into her bedroom. He could hear her rummaging through something.
âWhat are you doing?â
âI saved something for you,â She said, returning with a little velvet box. She set it on the table in front of him and stood back, hands on her hips and eyes glittering.
Azriel's heart hammered as he looked at it, tears already stinging his eyes. He picked up the box with gentle fingers and opened the lid. Two beautiful earrings lay inside on a bed of silk, sapphires encased in silver metal, carved with little stars and moons.
âI got them as a gift once,â She said as he admired them, âThey were the only nice things I owned for a long, long time. They meant a lot to me. And I saved them because I wanted to give you one to have made into a ring.â
Azriel shook his head, a tear falling down his cheek. His mother reached out and swiped it away, placing a kiss where it had been. He remembered the days when she had nothing nice at all. When she was always tired and ragged with almost no hope left.
âYou should keep them,â He swallowed hard.
âI'll keep one,â She said, her voice trembling just a touch, âAnd I'll put it on a chain. But I want you to take this one and have the gem put into a ring and the metal made into a band.â
Azriel stood, leaving the little box on the table, and folded his mother into his arms. It was a long while before he let go.
âPromise me?â She whispered when he pulled away, reaching up to cup his cheek.
âI promise,â He put his hand over hers and leaned into her touch.
âGood, because she wonât say no to such a beautiful ring. Now tell me everything about her.â
#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#gwyn acotar#gwyn berdara#gwyneth berdara#gwynriel#gwyn x azriel#gwyneth x azriel#azriel x gwyneth#azriel x gwyn#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#gwyn berdara fic#gwyn berdara fanfic#gwyn berdara fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel fic#azriel fanfiction#azriel spymaster
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You hit me right in the heart
Summary
A short walk in the snow turns into a snowball fight for a facetious demon and his equally facetious angel.
Notes
Guess what? It's another fluffy one
INEFFABLE ADVENT CALENDER
On Ao3
Rating G - 724 words
Aziraphale and Crowley were walking in the park.
It had snowed during the night, and a beautiful white carpet covered almost everything except the footprints of the few courageous strollers who, like them, had decided to brave the cold.
They walked side by side at a leisurely pace, chatting happily, when Crowley suddenly stopped and crouched down.
Aziraphale looked at him in confusion and asked worriedly, "Are you all right, my dear?"
Crowley, his head bowed, hiding from the angel what he was doing, replied, "Everything's perfectly fine, angel."
He straightened, and Aziraphale saw that he had a snowball in his hand. With a challenging expression, the demon twirled it in his hand before tossing it into the air and catching it.
Aziraphale shook his head and said quietly, "You're not serious?"
"Try me."
The angel narrowed his eyes, then bent down to pick up some snow until he too had a snowball in his hand and challenged the demon, "What are you waiting for to throw it at me? Are you afraid of retribution? Or worse, that you won't be able to hit me?"
He threw his snowball at Crowley, and the ball hit the demon right in the chest. Aziraphale started to turn to escape the retribution that was sure to come when he felt a snowball hit him right in the back.
He turned and looked at Crowley with an offended look on his face, but the demon shrugged innocently and retorted, "Hey, I can't help it, you were showing me your best profile, so I shot instinctively."
He didn't even have time to finish his sentence before a huge snowball hit him in the face. Crowley leaned forward to clear the snow from his face when he heard Aziraphale rush up and say in a panicked voice, "Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear, I swear I wasn't aiming for your face."
Still bent over, Crowley stifled a small laugh. Aziraphale, who could only see his shoulders shaking, began to panic.
"Crowley, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to..."
Crowley straightened up, unable to hold back his laughter. Between fits of laughter, he tried to say, "Who said I was afraid I couldn't touch you? I hope your aim with a rifle is better than with a snowball!"
Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulders and scolded him, "You idiot! I really thought I had hurt you! And I'm sure my aim is much better than yours."
Crowley replied, "Angel, if you're talking about 1941, I was just glad I missed you that day. And don't make me think about it again, because I swear I'll make you do the apology dance right here and now."
The angel chuckled softly and raised his gloved hand to gently brush the remaining snow from the demon's face.
He used his thumb to wipe a last snowflake from Crowley's nose and said in a soft voice, "Anyway, don't scare me like that again. I really thought I hurt you. You're really lucky I love you."
Crowley's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't that he doubted Aziraphale's love, but even after all this time, it was like something new every time he said it. And like every time, the demon found it less and less difficult to answer.
"As much as I love you. "
They stayed like that for a few moments, gazing into each other's eyes.
Aziraphale moved closer to Crowley and asked him softly, "How do you still look so handsome with all that snow in your hair? "
Giving Crowley no time to react, he closed the distance between them, lifting his head to kiss him and running his fingers through Crowley's hair, pulling him even closer. Crowley returned the kiss and took Aziraphale's face between his hands.
They stood there kissing for long minutes, oblivious to the wind and the snow that had begun to fall again, and oblivious to the rare walker who made a detour to avoid them.
Neither wanted to end the embrace, and when they parted, Crowley took Aziraphale's head between his hands to place a final kiss on the angel's lips before sliding his hands down his shoulders to intertwine their hands.
They resumed their walk, during which there were fewer snowballs thrown and more kisses exchanged as neither wanted to let go of the other's hand.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story đ„°
Still thanking you for bearing with me đ
Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2)
Part 1 Story 1-99
Part 2 Story 100-?
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)
#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable boyfriends#aziraphale#crowley#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#GOS2Spoilers
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