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ladyelissarose · 1 year ago

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“Sergeant, you’ve been sitting there for the past 30 mins. Do you seriously think you have that much time to waste?”

Your Lieutenant Simon Riley’s voice was dead yet firm in its tone, being evident that he wasn’t very pleased at the moment.

Placing yourself in his shoes, you’d be upset too, there was a mission coming up and much preparation was still needed, from ‘everyone’ in the team.

Trying to swallow the heavy rock in your throat, you tried to put down the pain of your humiliation from earlier, and replied lowly,

“No sir, but I’m waiting for someone-“

“For 30 minutes? Don’t you think that after 5-10 minutes of waiting it’d be very clear that they’re not coming back for you.”

‘Oh.. but why would they do that? Their supposed to help me-‘

“Sergeant? I asked a question-“

“Yes sir, you’re right. I apologize for wasting time and being delusional.”

With a confident tone you had replied, which was the total opposite of what you were feeling. And though you apologized, you stayed glued to that damned seat, clenching your thighs and the gut wrecking pain that seared from your stomach to your legs- who would’ve thought that period pains would make you feel like you’ve been shot and stabbed?

You bit your lip nervously at the scolding that was to come in a few seconds as you hadn’t moved, and neither had your Lieutenant Ghost, meaning he was waiting for you to move your ass up from the metal chair.

And the longer the seconds passed, you grew more sick and worried, for Ghost wasn’t the most nicest to the newest ones in the team, he was actually very strict and took no excuses from anyone- including you.

Although you haven’t been on that side of him, but you’ve seen it and wouldn’t dare cross that bridge. So far you’ve been one of the best alongside Johnny Soap MacTavish, listening attentively and being the best shot on the job. But now you’re letting a natural cause hold you back, and in shame you couldn’t move or budge.

Not after you were mocked and belittled for it- and it wasn’t even your fault, but of course they all made you feel like it was.

A low gruff was heard above you, and Ghost’s large boots shifted on the ground before he practically barked,

“Well then move Sergeant!? What’d ya eat this morning that was to heavy for you to even get up eh?!”

And to put the cherry on top, when you’re in this abdominal pain, along with your daily sores from the job and stresses, you’re gonna get emotional and teary.

Especially when you knew it could’ve been solved a while ago when you had asked a teammate to help you out, but they had left you out to dry obviously, telling you to stay in that seat while they ran to your barracks to get new pants.

So now you kept your gaze on the ground, refusing to move a bit, not knowing how to explain or hold it all in, until you felt a strong grip on your arm as he lifted you up and spoke in a harsh tone,

“I’ll move you then-“

In panic you grabbed the collar of his vest and held onto the hand that grabbed you as you pleaded with desperate eyes,

“Lieutenant Riley please! Just- please.”

Your bottom lip now quivered a bit, and your eyes frantically searched his, hoping to find mercy in them so he could let you go, but he didn’t. He only locked his cold brown eyes on you, as he tried to read the situation.

That was Simon’s best tactic, he could read people like a book when he wanted to and wasn’t in a bad mood. And once he gave himself the chance to do so, he could clearly tell you were devastated and anguished, as your brows furrowed tightly and your eyes were growing glassy.

In regret at his actions, as he saw your state, Ghost immediately let you go and remembered Soap’s words,

‘Be more understanding of everyone’s situations, you may not always know why they are a certain way.’

He took a deep breath and pat your arm from where he had grasped you, not ignoring the fact how you flinched a bit and a fat tear was wiped away from your cheek by your shoulder. Simon was quick to mumble feeling guilty,

“I’m sorry Sergeant. Didn’t mean to be so harsh-“

“I bled through my pants pretty badly Lieutenant.”

“What?!”

He was ready to check you thinking it was probably an injury, but you instantly grabbed his jaw so he wouldn’t look, and quickly explained,

“It’s not an injury.”

You could see the way his eyes spoke confusion, as he questioned,

“Then what is it Sargeant?”

Your grip on his jaw loosened as you grew shy, realizing how close he was to you, and you grew more conscious of your state. As calmly as you could, you did your best to say the least but enough to understand.

“Please don’t let me say it... I’ve been humiliated enough.”

The gears in his poor head twisted and turned, as he tried to read in between in the lines of your words. He repeated your words in his head, and saw your state-

‘Oh.. OH.’

Ghost sucked in a deep breath and replied his thoughts,

“Oh. Sergeant- ok.. here.”

He quickly shrugged off his jacket, and like a carrying mother, he tied the sleeves around your waist, making sure it covered you were needed. He tapped your waist when he finished and ordered,

“Walk in front of me, let’s take you to your room.”

In a quiet voice you tried to reason, hoping he’d let you go on your own, as you were still a bit embarrassed.

“It’s a long walk Lieutenant- literally across the whole base-“

“Then we’ll go to my office, I have an extra pair of cargo’s.. they adjust to any size-“

He then held your cheek with his gloved palm as he assured you,

“I’m not letting you go on your own, I’ll help you.”

Nodding dumbly because of his sweet gesture, you agreed. And well, that settled it for you, he wasn’t letting you go on your own, so off you went.

Like a guardian angel his broad built covered your smaller form fully, and with a reassuring hand on your shoulder he guided you away to his office.

You felt small in front of his full build, but never insignificant as he treated you like a person, maybe he started off the wrong foot at times, but that’s who Simon Riley was.. he wasn’t used to being all nice and kind. But when he’d find out his mistake he’s pluck it out and make it right ten times more.

In the comfort of his little room, clearly showing he lived there as it smelled like his musky and citrus scent, and the decorations were to a bare minimum (it was actually just the little lamp and a few large bullet casings laid around in different places, like they were posing.

Oh and all the little gum wrapper things you made for him were all resting on his tiny window seal- anyways.. you were safe in his room.

He left you to change in peace after he made you stand in the pants for five more minutes- until you spilled the names of the soldiers that had humiliated you. You really didn’t want to cause them problems, especially with the Lieutenant himself who was stern and harsh.. but he made you understand that it was well deserved anyways.

Now you’re buckling up your fresh pants when you heard the door open and Ghost walk in, his head lowered as he began,

“You good Sergeant?”

Nodding to yourself you replied to him verbally,

“Yes Lieutenant.. thanks. They fit well.”

He took that as your signal of, ‘I’m decent you can look’ so he did, seeing his pants on you. Maybe they did look pretty big on you, but they fit, and were stainless.

Satisfaction with a hint of care in his eyes, he nodded with a soft grunt,

“Alright kid.. Oh and take these… they help with the.. the cramps?”

Smiling a bit at his shy voice coming out and at his attentiveness to what your body was going through, you replied,

“Yes.. the cramps.. thank you.”

“Hmm hmm.. now, be at the shooting range. I’ll be there in 5.”

Worry then crashed, wanting to hit you as you thought about the chance of seeing those soldiers again, but Ghost once again reassured you,

“Don’t worry Sergeant… I got your back. Go on to the range.”

Releasing a breath of relief you sent him a small smile then went, happy and confident to know you had your Lieutenant’s protection. Simon watched you walk away and he felt warmth in his chest, as he was able to provide help and be good to and for you.

Ghost hardly ever practiced shots or trained with you, afraid he’d hurt you or be too stern. But now he was afraid to leave you on your own, and be hurt by someone else. So he figured, you’d be safe and learn well from him, while he’d learn to keep his temper and tolerance in check, as he’d have you in sight.. a win is a win.

#cod simon riley #simon riley call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #Simon Riley fluff #call of duty #call of duty fluff #cod fluff #cod ghost #ghost cod

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fluffylino · 17 days ago

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Slow Down Bugboy

you're watching the news when you hear someone outside your window. is it a burgler? is it a ghost? oh wait, its spiderman?!

-contains soft themes (some injuries)

heavily inspired by that one scene from the amazing spiderman.

jisung is so spider coded🕸❤️‍🩹

enjoy~

keyboard clacking while you glued your eyes to the laptop screen. trying to make sense of the words and phrases you needed to write for an english assignment.

for some reason, you just couldn't focus.

maybe it was because jisung hadn't texted you since afternoon. glancing up at the clock to see it was an hour past 10pm.

your eyes now plastered onto the tv screen. the news flashing vividly. headlines popping up one after the other.

the news anchor only raised more questions. dwelling into the details of this commotion.

you had mixed opinions on this so called 'man', who shoots webs out of his wrists. you'd rather call him

'weird insect man who crawls up buildings'.

was he a hero? i mean, he seemed like one. do you think you'd ever want to come face to face with him?

maybe? spiderman seemed chill.

anyways jisung!

right. where the hell was he?!

<ji, are you alive?>

<JISUNG. HAN JISUNG>

looking away from your phone. you gulped down the lump in your throat.

was he accidently caught in the whole 'lizard incident' at the school...?

you didn't want to lose your friend. your bestfriend.

"spiderman please...im really begging you to protect him if he's hurt" praying under your breath. heart pumping slower than usual while you took deep breaths.

the smell of your mom cooking a late night snack downstairs travelled up to your room. on any other occasion you wouldve eaten like a hog. but right now, you couldn't.

knock knock

soft thud

body taking a screenshot in fright. someone's outside your window. with how dark it is at this time of the night and only the moonlight, you think its a burgler.

That is until you see the silhoette of a masked man. the suit he wears is webbed, with colours of dark blue and red.

knock.

this time he presses his palm flat onto the glass, body slumping.

you throw your laptop on the bed, running to slam your door shut before making your way to the window.

"s-spiderman?" you mumble under your breath.

gasping as the man falls right into your arms. legs still dangling out. a catch a whiff of perfume that instantly makes your brain shortcircuit.

raising an arm to help him get the mask off. the mop of hair gives away his identity.

"sung..."

"han jisung! what the fuck happened to you?!" you exclaim, heart dropping when he rests his head on your shoulder. limply trying to hold onto you.

"i'm...uh s-shit" he mutters, grunting as you hold him up.

he plops onto the couch with a pained groan. you stand there dumbly. too much was happening.

A heavy scent of blood filling the air. quickly shutting the window before kneeling down by his side.

"are you okay? what happened ji...please tell me"

cupping his face. his eyes widening briefly. shakily bringing his hand up to hold your wrist.

"lizard man VS bugboy...i hurt him more than he h-hurt me..."

even in this state, he finds the time to joke. laughing weakly until he notices the pain in your eyes. not just from seeing him bleed but also from the fact that you weren't aware that he was THE spiderman.

"i'm sorry for coming uninvited...t-there was no where else i'd feel safe"

jisung whispers, nuzzling his cheek apologetically into the warmth of your palm. you can't control your body or your thoughts.

carefully pushing his damp hair away from his eyes. theres a small cut over the bridge of his nose. his bottom lip is busted harshly. he's sweating as you caress him.

clean up his wounds. yes.

right now, what mattered most was stopping the bleeding.

"where are you going..." his voice trails off. puppy like eyes locked onto every little movement.

"sit up....as much as you can"

a soaked towel and disinfectant in your hands. jisung does sit up quietly. its surprising.

"baby it r-really hurts...mh" the boy whispers, staring at you with slight fear.

'baby' was a nickname he often used. but right now, it made your heart do a summersalt. without asking, he begins to take the suit off.

revealing his battered torso. bruises and cuts from the 'battle' he was in.

silence fills the room, apart from the soft hisses leaving his mouth.

hands weakly grabbing at your wrists to pry your hands away from the slash across his abdomen. stomach muscles rhythmically tightening in discomfort everytime you applied a layer of medicine.

without much thought, you inch closer. feeling his heavy breath right next to your ear. along with a choked out grunt.

lifting your head up slowly, only to meet his gaze.

"i'm sorry for s-showing up like...this"

jisung whispers, scooching closer. your noses nearly touching. lips grazing against eachothers. you hum. far too out of it, to even get mad at him.

knowing he was spiderman put you at peace. knowing that he was safe was all that mattered.

injuries or not, you would take care of him regardless.

"say its okay" he whines softly, pressing his lips innocently onto yours. its too gentle to even be considered a kiss. you can't stop the grin that grows on your face.

realising how much your acceptance of him, mattered to him. sucking in a sharp breath when you peck him with more feeling. the subtle tangy taste of blood flooding your senses. his lip was still sensitive.

butterflies erupting in your stomach when he gently cradles the base of your neck. pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

"easy there bugboy..."

you tease, not letting him have his way. revelling in the toothy grin he lets out. laughing against you.

"i'm not going anywhere"

you reassure, threading your fingers through his hair. moving into his embrace.

"i want chocolate." he blurts out in a hushed tone.

"what-"

pecking you once more. and another time until he doesn't pull away. kissing you slow and passionately. pouring all his emotions out.

maybe spiderman wasn't so bad afterall...

teehee

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ak319 · 19 days ago

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(AN: Reader is 13-15, Arthur, 23-24)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, angst, fluff

You watched Arthur’s every move as he settled in, his face weary yet hardened, scrubbing off remnants of dirt and whatever else he’d encountered in the washing barrel. You lowered the clothes you were folding, feeling the slight twinge of nerves as you reached for his stew.

He liked it hot, which meant you had to reheat the pot. You realized you hadn’t eaten all day, but you brushed the thought aside. Taking the bowl in hand, you crossed over to him as he finally sat down, visibly exhausted.

“Here, Arthur." You said softly, extending the bowl to him.

He grunted in response, the closest thing to a “thank you” he would offer, and took it from you, his gaze giving you a quick once-over before returning to his meal. Routine checkup as you called it.

Trying to bridge the silence, you ventured, “So...how was it?”

Arthur barely looked up. “Was what?”

“The job…” You tried not to sound too eager, but the truth was, you were starved for any scrap of conversation, any glimpse into the part of his life that stayed cloaked in secrecy.

“Went well.” He replied curtly, still focused on his food.

A brief silence followed as you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You felt a familiar ache bloom at the base of your skull and then another one at the abdomen, a dreadful sensation. Just then, it hit you, your period was due.

You froze, holding the empty tray as the realization dawned. Arthur looked up, stew mid-bite, and raised a brow at your sudden stillness, your gaze into space.

“What’s got you standin’ there like a ghost?” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh… nothing,” you managed to reply, trying to appear casual, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint flush that had spread across your face.

“Need... anything?”

"Um..." You started pondering which perhaps went on for a minute.

Arthur’s gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and, with a casual flick, tossed a few crumpled bills onto the tray. “Your pocket money. Now, go brew the coffee.”

The whole thing felt like a bad joke. Arthur tossed you a few bucks every so often, calling it "pocket money," like you could waltz into town and buy whatever you wanted. But he was always right there with you whenever you went to the market, keeping a close eye on everything. Or you had to give him the list.

“Uh? Um... th-thanks.”

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you actin’ weird?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m fine, actually. You’re the one who is wei-, um looks tired. I’ll get on with the coffee.”

Before he could question you further, you hurried off, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach. As you set the coffee pot on, you remembered the stew you’d set aside for yourself and turned toward the wagon, only to see Pearson ladling out the last bowl for himself.

A pang of frustration mixed with the ache of hunger, you’d been so careful, setting everything up, and now even that small comfort had slipped through your fingers.

First, the looming sense of dread that seemed to haunt your every step, and now this, a missed meal because Pearson snatched up the last bowl of stew without a second thought. Emotions churned, thick and heavy, clouding your mind as you went about your tasks in a haze.

You delivered Arthur’s damn coffee, scrubbed his dishes clean, and finished up the rest of your chores, all while running on nothing more than stale biscuits and the last dregs of (tea/coffee). Asking others for food? You didn’t want to be seen as Arthur’s sister, the one mooching off his work, asking for scraps, felt cheap, when he practically carried the camp on his shoulders. The thought made your stomach churn with resentment and embarrassment. Yeah, not something a Morgan does. Although in your opinion, you shouldn't be doing anything if he earns the most...but whatever. Asking from your brother? If he found out you skipped lunch. He’d be livid, calling you reckless or worse for not managing the basics, you couldn't handle a scolding at the moment.

Frustration gnawed at you. It wasn't just the hunger, it was the constant grind of chores, endless and thankless, all because you were one of the few women in the camp. Susan wielded her age like a shield, always finding ways to rest while you and Annabelle picked up the slack. But even Annabelle was too busy, neck-deep in whatever business kept her hands clean of the daily tasks. And so, it fell to you.

You flopped onto your cot, hiding your face in the pillow as the pains of hunger and period mixed with a deeper ache, one of loneliness, exhaustion, and memories you could almost taste. You remembered your mother’s gentle hand on your forehead when you were ill, the comforting smell of warm food she’d bring, and the luxury of rest she allowed you. It felt like a distant, lost dream now. Here, rest wasn’t an option, it was a rare privilege you couldn’t afford. Great, now your pillow is also wet with tears.

⋆⋆⋆

You were knee-deep in a mountain of laundry, your temper simmering with each aggressive scrub against the washboard. The clothes bore the brunt of your pent-up frustration, wrung and scrubbed with a vengeance. Suddenly, something light and obnoxious hit the basket, a boy’s underwear. You knew immediately who the culprit was.

"How. Dare. You?" you snapped, eyes narrowing.

John, already a few steps away, stopped and turned, a lazy smirk creeping across his face. "What? You’re the one washing."

"Yes, I am the one washing, you jerk." You grabbed the offending article and chucked it back at him, hitting him square in the face. His eyes widened, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback.

"But I am not washing that!" you said, pointing at the ragged underwear as if it were a symbol of all your grievances. "Those are for you to wash, understand?"

John held the underwear in his hands, clearly bewildered. "What? Why? Is it not… a cloth? And why would I wash it? I’ve got way more important things to do." His voice grated against your headache, every word echoing like a drumbeat in your skull.

"Important huh? Okay. Then let's solve this problem another way."

You could feel your patience unraveling, and, without thinking, you yanked a pair of scissors from your belt and snipped through the fabric with one swift motion.

"Hey! That was one of my two pairs! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelped, clutching the scraps as if they were made of gold.

"Then maybe you should think twice before tossing them my way! Now go and cry." you shot back, but the anger and heat were taking their toll. Your vision blurred slightly, the world beginning to spin.

John’s voice rose in protest, but it sounded muffled, distant. You took a step back, steadying yourself on the edge of the wash basin, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. "Damn heat… and damn you, John…" you muttered, but the words seemed to tangle and drift as darkness crept in at the corners of your vision.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that met you was Ms. Grimshaw, her familiar face creased with concern as she fanned you gently with a worn-out piece of fabric.

"Ah! You are awake, quite the theatrics you put on out there..." Her voice was both exasperated and relieved. You let out a soft groan in response, turning onto your side, trying to escape the brightness of the day that felt too harsh against your feverish skin. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and the heavy weight of your head pressed down against the pillow.

"T-time...?" you managed to croak, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

"It's four," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyes shot open wide in panic. "T-the clothes? I-"

Susan rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "I washed them, don't worry. But tomorrow you gotta do them, got it? And what’s with you tearing that boy’s underwear?"

"Huh...? What?" Confusion clouded your thoughts as you reached for your canteen, the bitter taste in your mouth only worsening your discomfort.

"Forget it," she huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, I hear him. I think Arthur's back."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to focus, the realization hitting hard. Arthur. You had to see him, make his coffee, bring him his food, and make sure he knew you were at the camp and doing your part in the camp. But every instinct in you rebelled against the idea, your muscles weak and senses dulled as if they’d given up the fight.

Your vision blurred, and you sank deeper into the cot, eyelids heavy, your body refusing to cooperate. You barely registered Susan’s faint, dismissive muttering as she left the tent, her words blending into a haze of disapproval. For now, making sure Arthur was taken care of was the least of your worries.

Meanwhile, Susan spotted Arthur sitting by his cot, his irritation palpable. Freshly cleaned up from his last job, he seemed expectant, perhaps wondering where you were with his usual meal or coffee. Sensing an opportunity to stir up trouble, she approached him, her tone casual but dripping with judgment.

"Mr. Morgan," she began with a sly look, "your sister did nothing today. Not a damn thing. And right now? She’s sleeping in, like she's royalty or something."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows?” Susan shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “She had some spat with John, then just sulked off and refused to lift a finger.”

The moment the words left her lips, Arthur was on his feet, his expression hardening. Without a word to Susan, he strode to your tent and pushed open the flap, not bothering to knock. His gaze swept over you, expecting to find you feigning sleep, or maybe just ignoring the day’s tasks.

"What the hell is you-"

But the sight of you, lying pale and motionless beneath the blanket, immediately stopped him in his tracks. A faint flush tinged your face, and your breathing was shallow. His agitation shifted to alarm in an instant.

Arthur knelt beside you, his hand reaching to press gently against your forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat of fever radiating through his palm. “Damn it,” he muttered, guilt and worry flooding his face. He’d been ready to scold you for shirking camp duties, and instead, here you were, worn down to the bone.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing as you tried to mumble something. “Arthur... I meant... to get your food… just…”

His jaw tightened, frustration directed inward. “You’ve been pushin’ yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger, at himself, at Susan, at anyone who’d failed to notice what you were going through. “You’re coming with me to the clinic, no arguments.”

You nodded weakly, relief and exhaustion settling over you. Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you up with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

As he carried you to the stables, he did not forget to throw a bloodthirsty look at Susan making her gulp. It clearly stated.

'You are dead if something happens to her.'

The air in the clinic was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of the doctor’s coat as he examined you. Arthur sat beside you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand clenched into a fist resting on his thigh. You lay on the cot, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around you, your pallor alarming him even more than before. The doctor’s voice was a distant murmur, but the words echoed in your ears.

“She’s suffering from dehydration fever. It’s left her weak, but with proper treatment, she should recover. Make sure she stays hydrated, and she’ll need rest, here's the prescription and you can go home if you want once the drip is finished..” The doctor turned to you one last time with a gentle smile. "Rest well, alright? Lots of it."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Arthur turned to you, his expression shifting from worry to something sharper, more intense. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he snapped, his voice low but edged with anger. “You could have told me you weren’t feeling well. Instead, you’ve been pushing yourself like this?”

You flinched at his tone, the weight of his words mixing with the guilt that already gnawed at you. “I--but you said...that I gotta...work...” you started, but the words caught in your throat, and instead of explanations, tears began to prick at your eyes.

"FUCK WHAT I SAID!- "He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I also said to take care of yourself, I am not always around! And just--look at you..."

“I--I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I thought I could manage...”

“Thought!?” he echoed, incredulous. “You can’t just think you can handle it all when you’re this sick! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ask for help?” His voice rose with each word, frustration spilling over as he paced the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

"And what did you just tell the doctor, huh? That this wasn't the first time it happened?! Are you kidding me?! Are you tryin' to waste yourself?!"

The harshness of his tone cut through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening. As you looked into his furious eyes, the dam broke. The tears spilt over, hot and unrelenting as you remembered all the times, you put him and others first, in fear.

In fear of being left with strangers while Arthur is away and thinking that they might say or do something to you if you don't do the work properly.

"Damn it,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I was...scared and I-I--miss her,” you sobbed, clutching the blanket tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I miss Mama. She would know what to do. She would take care of me…please take me to Mama...” Your voice cracked, the memories of her soothing presence and the comfort she always provided weighing heavily on your heart.

Arthur’s anger faltered as he watched you break down. hearing you call for Mama again and again was agonizing. He felt his heart twist painfully at your words, the memories of your mother hanging heavy in the air. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, his own frustration melting away in the face of your grief. “I miss her too. But you can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself for her, for both of us. And why the hell are you scared, you are my sis' and as long as I am alive, no one can touch a strand of yours,” He pulled you in a side hug carefully.

"And listen here, from now on, you only do my chores. Fuck the camp." You pulled away slightly, in shock.

"W-what?"

He nodded with a playful smile. "Damn right. You get better and you do my work only. Susan can surely handle the others, right?"

You blinked up at him, your surprise turning into disbelief. “Arthur, you can’t just tell me to ignore everything else... I can’t put that on Susan. She-”

He interrupted you with a firm squeeze of your hand, his eyes softening. “I can and I will. You need to rest, and if that means I have to play the tyrant for a bit, so be it. Besides, Susan can manage. She’s been slacking off more than you realize. And if someone has a problem with it then they can come to me. Anytime.”

A small laugh, almost devilish, bubbled up despite your exhaustion, the tension easing slightly. You snuggled back into the hug to calm your shivering.

“That's...that would be fun to watch."

He nodded and you decided to press your advantage. “Um…so tell her to do your chores too-”

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now."

I hate you.

“Get well soon, and you better take your meds and all when I ain’t around.” Arthur’s voice held a rough tenderness, though he masked it with a gruff tone. Beneath his impatience, you sensed a genuine worry, a hint of eagerness for you to recover, not that he’d admit it, of course. His true motive, or so he told himself, was purely practical.

Pearson’s stew lacked the warmth and care you added to every meal, and coffee was never quite right unless you made it.

He groaned inwardly, imagining another week of choking down meals without your touch. But the look he shot you as he spoke was more protective than he probably intended, softening just enough that you knew he was looking out for you.

“Did ye’ even hear me, missy?” he muttered, noticing your eyelids drooping, his words somewhere between annoyed and fond.

You jumped, startled out of the drowsiness that was starting to creep over you, and gave a hum of acknowledgement.

⋆⋆⋆

John rushed up to Arthur as he emerged from your tent, having just ensured you were well-fed and rested.

"What is it, you rascal?" Arthur asked, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Um... I was looking forward to a compensation…” John trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“For?” Arthur raised an eyebrow amused, the impatience creeping into his tone.

“(Y/N), tore... she... tore my underwear, which is not fair...I only asked her to wash it...I mean....”

A smirk crept across Arthur's face. “She did the right thing, I am proud of her.” He grabbed John by the back of his neck, pulling him close with a playful yet threatening grin.

"My sis ain't your maid, boy, got it? In fact, nobody's maid here. Wash your shit yourself.” The playful banter vanished, replaced by a weighty silence as Arthur's gaze hardened. He gave John a firm shove, sending him stumbling back and casually walking back to his own tent, chuckling at the boy's foolish request.

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slash-me-please · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! A question: How would the Slashers react to seeing that their partner prepared a dessert with a somewhat sadistic theme? (Context: I saw a video where there is a person who makes a cake with details of a face, and when you cut it juice comes out of the red fruit, he also makes cookies with eyes [Clearly they are not real])

Sorry if my spelling is wrong, but it's because I don't know many English

Slashers Reaction to their S/O Decorative Baking.

A/N: I got inspiration from 3 different tiktoks here. A bit sillier and fluffier than I wanted it to be. Michael's is a bit steamy

Thomas Hewitt

Luda Mae's kitchen is about ten degrees hotter than it usually was. You had dusted off her old gas stove and set it alight, going to town on the limited ingredients the off-the-grid household had collected throughout all the victims. Usually you put together small desserts, cookies, cake, but today you had really thought of an idea. You molded together the dough you had in your hands- pulling at the substance until it slightly resembled the nose bridge of a victim.

The pie was cherry today, tomorrow it could be something else but today it would be cherry. You giggle to yourself, the facial features of an uncanny valley freak of nature decorating your pie crust.

A light tapping breaks you out of your daze, you blink away the concentration to look at your husband. He gives you a concerned look. "I want you to feel like... I'm taking an interest in your hobbies." He turns away for a moment, but he looks back quicker than you would've thought. You wonder what he' s thinking but not for long before he's waiting at the table for you to finish.

Thomas has always wanted a family, a wife, someone to take care of. He forgets the improbabilities when he comes in from a long day of work and he smells your creations.

He thinks you're funny. He watches from behind sometimes; you're focused and locked in on some facepies. You shape each and every nose with love, and he turns his head away from Luda Mae when she briefly questions if maybe- he traumatized her a little bit.

Jason Voorhees

"Jason!" You called him from the other room, ecstatic with your new creation. You shift back and forth on both feet until he finally drags himself into the kitchen area for you to show him your treat. He blinks down at the Pyrex pan you are holding towards him, the red drip of- blood? rolling down- what would seem to be intestines? You still don't have his attention; this is a day job for him. "They're cinnamon rolls!" You beam at him, and that's what gets his attention. He nods with approval, and you begin to make him a plate.

As the two of you settle onto a water-logged, oak dining room set, he lift's his mask and eats at your snack slowly. You watch intently, proud of yourself for the decorating skills- and - for taking care of your boyfriend so well. He finishes up, looking back up at you and never mentioning that he hasn't tasted anything in a few decades.

His mom used to bake for him, she didn't use such... expressive techniques... but you're still appreciated.

Will eat everything you bake, he has no aversion to your decorating, but they don't affect him either way. He's got larger fish to be afraid of, like underage drinking.

Michael Myers

You sit at the dining room table, eyes trained on the wall clock in front of you. 3:17am. Your eyelids droop and you debate throwing in the towel and taking it upstairs for a moment before you finally hear the soft click of your screen door shutting. Michael makes his way into the kitchen, head tilting at the display on your kitchen table. Doll head covered apples? He reaches forward and grabs one off the table. The white chocolate crumbles underneath his fingertips, he looks at it for a moment. You know better than to say anything to him if you actually want him to try it.

He hikes the bottom half of his mask over his mouth, bringing the apple forward to take a bite. You watch, half lidded as he chews and swallows. His mouth upturns slightly and you feel your chest burn with pride. You had spent all day trying to get these right and he liked them. You reached onto the plate and grabbed one for your own, taking a bite and leaning your head back with a pleased moan. "I really outdid myself this time, didn't I?" He takes another bite, licking his lips of the white chocolate specks.

The two of you finish, looking hungrier than before. "What do you want me to make for you next time?" His eyes narrow, pulling the mask back down onto his face. "Maybe a tart?" Your eyes drag down. "Something glazed?"

Biggest sweet tooth ever! This skill of yours has saved you from the blunt edge of a knife quite a few times. There's nothing that keeps him coming home more than the edible arrangement of his favorite body parts you have made up for him.

He relishes in the attention, carefully examining each treat you create for him with precision. You watch him take down whatever you throw at him with such adoration, he tells himself that he only comes back for the food, but he can't help but anticipate the look on your face when you see him enjoy your gifts.

#slasher x reader #horror x reader #fluff #Slasher x reader fluff #horror x reader fluff #Michael Myers x reader #Jason Voorhees x reader #Thomas Hewitt x reader #Michael Myers x reader fluff #Jason Voorhees x reader fluff #Thomas Hewitt x reader fluff

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suw4 · 9 months ago

Text

Your Voice

Hinata Shoyo from Haikyuu!!

an/tw: i feel like this isn't my best work but i hope you like it anywaysssssss

Masterlist | Haikyuu!! Masterlist

part1 | part2

Shoyo came running up the stairs towards the rooftop. His boyfriend was waiting for him upstairs to eat lunch together. He was running late due to a mini receiving practice with Sugawara. Once he'd arrived, he saw the [h/c] head sitting quietly on the bench. Looking down to his unopened bento box. Shoyo smiled widely and ran up to him.

"[N/n]!!" he shouted even though the male couldn't hear him. Jumping onto the male and hugged him ever so excitedly. [Name] laughed at his highly energetic boyfriend and hugged him back. "Sorry, I'm late! Sugawara-senpai asked me to stay back for a while for practice," Shoyo signed as he spoke. "It's okay. Shall we eat?" [Name] signed back and the other nodded.

They both happily ate lunch together until Shoyo jolted up, remembering something. He looked at his lover with such determined eyes--mouth full of food. He laid the bento onto his lap and slid himself closer to the other. "I want to introduce you to my team! Is that okay?" he signed excitedly, a smile lingered on his face steadily. [Name] paused, the tip of his chopsticks in his mouth as he stared at Shoyo. He took a couple of minutes to think about it and eventually gave in to his request. He gave Shoyo a subtle nod, along with a small smile. "Why not?" he signed.

Adrenaline rushed through the shorter male's body. He hopped off the bench with his bento in his hands. "Really?! Then, I'll introduce you later during practice. Okay?!" he proposed. This time, he was jumping on the spot. [Name] chuckled, holding Shoyo's hand with his. "Calm down.." he spoke up, words slurring close together, but Shoyo was able to make it out. He retracted his hand and signed, "I can't read your lips if you speak too fast,"

"Oh, sorry!" the decoy quickly apologized by making a gesture of pinching the bridge of his nose, then opened his hand with fingers closed, and he lowered it with a slight bow. He grinned at his boyfriend before hugging the life out of him. He then continued to ramble on about what he had planned for the meet-up.

Soon enough, it was already practice time. Shoyo waited for [Name] outside his class. Bouncing on the spot as excitement filled him. Watching the taller male packing his bag with a huge smile. Once he was ready, he intertwined his hand with the other, dragging the poor boy out towards the volleyball gym.

"Sorry, I'm late!" Shoyo yelled as he slid the gym doors open. Capturing all the attention from everyone in the place. "Oh! Hinata! It's okay!" the silver head third year assured, walking towards the couple. "Who's this? Are you recruiting new members?"

"Oh, no! He can't play. This is my boyfriend, [L.Name] [Name]!" he proudly announced, squeezing the [h/c] head's hand.

The others began crowding around the couple and asking questions. Curious about their relationship and such. While they converse, Kageyama was fiercely observing the boy that Shoyo brought in. The stare was so intense that Tsukishima, who stood not far from him, thought he was planning murder. "Oi, are you going to stare at him until your eyes pop out? Or are you tragically in love with shrimp's partner?"

The setter snapped out of his gaze and glared at the other. "Shut up," he told him off, looking back at [Name]. "I was wondering why he looked familiar," he paused, recalling his memory. "Yukigaoka Junior High's number 7. A middle blocker. One of Hinata's teammates that I played against," he noted, placing his finger on his chin. Tsukishima hummed in response,not really caring much.

Suddenly, the blue haired setter felt chills down his back. He heard a snicker beside him. "Seems like he heard you over all that noise," the blonde gave him a snarky look. Kageyama looked up to see [Name] staring at him like a killer pin pointing his next target. It was a look that he was familiar with. [Name] was the same person who punched his face after the game ended with his team winning against his.

Kageyama grabbed onto the net as he leaned down to Shoyos's height. "What have you been doing for the last three years?" he taunted the shorter male. Unfortunately, [Name] had overheard him, and it prompted him to swing a hard punch towards the blue haired male's face. Yelling and screaming at him while his teammates had to hold him back.

"Who do you think you are to say that, dickhead? Damn asshole! Don't you dare question his abilities!" [Name] continued to scream while glaring at the setter who was holding his nose in great pain while getting off the floor with a couple of his teammates' help.

The middle blocker got kicked out from making such a commotion and inflicting violence on the opponent team. The competition had to be put on hold for a moment.

"Oh! [L.Name], I remember you! You were the middle blocker that played in the Junior High game last year, right?" Daichi asked him. [Name] glanced up and gave him a short nod. "That's right! You were that tall dude who was blocking Kageyama's team like a maniac!"

"Yeah!!! [N/n] was so cool!! I owe him a lot for most of the points we scored!" Shoyo began jogging on the spot, pumped up with energy. "Why isn't he playing volleyball then?" Kageyama's voice dominated over the others. Causing everyone to look at him. Dampening the lively mood that that the decoy created. [Name] nudged his boyfriend's arm, arching a brow. Wanting to know what's happening. "Kageyama wants to know why you aren't continuing playing volleyball," he signed, catching everyone off guard.

"He's deaf," Shoyo turned back to face them while signing it for his lover too. The [h/c] haired sighed softly and crossed him arms. Used to this situation. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hinata. We didn't know. No wonder you kept answering the questions," the captain apologized while bowing at them out of respect. The volleyball club followed along. [Name] read Daichi's lips and showed a smile. "It's okay," he muttered. Easing everyone's guilt. "Yep! [N/n] doesn't mind it! He's very cool!" he let out a light hearted laugh, clinging on to the said male's arm.

"Wahh.. You guys are adorable! [L.Name], why didn't you tell me you are with Hinata?!" Yachi joined in. Trying her best to communicate through whatever she had learnt so far for sign language. [Name]'s eyes widened a little. Touched that she was learning to sign. "Oh? Yachi, you know [N/n]?" Shoyo tilted his head. "Yachi is my classmate, Sho," [Name] replied for the blonde then smiled at her. He was about to sign back but he thought of how difficult it would be for her to understand. So he loosen his bag from his shoulder and took out a notebook and a pen. Writing down what he wanted to say.

"Shoyo is very passionate for volleyball so I let him practice as much as he can. I want to see him be the next Little Giant!" the female first year read out loud. Everyone else was moved by his words. Shoyo looked up at his boyfriend with trembling lips. Falling in love with him all over again. "[N/n]..." he whined.

The day continued on with practice. A singular chair was set for [Name] to sit on and watch. He was mesmerized. He didn't get to see Shoyo play for so long. There was a drastic change with his speed, his skills. Even his jump is higher. He felt chills run down his back. It was thrilling, amazing. So amazing that he was jealous. It wasn't Shoyo that he was jealous of, but his teammates. People around him. He watched the tangerine landed onto the wooden floor after making a good score with his spike. Bouncing around Kageyama. Obviously, he couldn't hear what he's rambling about but he knows that Shoyo was praising the heck out of that boy. He let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the chair.

Practice has finally ended and [Name] told his partner that he'll wait for him outside. Once he was out, Kiyoko walked up to Shoyo and gave him a light tap. Causing him to stop untying the net. "Oh Shimizu-senpai? Is there something wrong?"

"Hinata, I've noticed that [L.Name] was a little sad when he was watching the match. Is he alright?" the third year question, concerned for the male. "[N/n]..? I'm... not sure. Uh- I'LL LEAVE EARLY TODAY!" he announced loudly, rushing out the gym and straight towards the club room to change. Packing his stuff up and made his way to his boyfriend by the gym doors.

The male stood in front of the other, huffing for air. "[N/n], is something wrong?!" he signed. [Name] was startled a little and tilted his head. "Nothing's wrong? Why the sudden question?"

"Shimizu-senpai was worried about you. She told me you were sad! Did something happened?"

"Nothing happened, really. Should we go home now?" [Name] showed him a reassuring smile. Shoyo frowned a little but hesitantly nodded. The taller male gently grabbed his hand and intertwined with it. Lifting it up to kiss the back of his hand. "Don't worry too much.." he uttered. The other looked down and replied with a simple "Okay," while [Name] guided them forward.

As they walked together, the [h/c] haired couldn't help but reminiscence the moment where Shoyo was ecstatic upon scoring that goal. He could imagine the cheers he shouted. But he could not hear it. Why can't he hear it? Why can't he fucking hear it? He was supposed to remember it!

As the boy was having a breakdown in his head, his steps slowed down. Dragging down the other male too. Shoyo turned around, shocked to see his boyfriend sobbing. Alerted, he moved closer and wiped away [Name]'s tears. "What's wrong, [N/n]. Why are you crying??" he asked whilst cupping the other's face. [Name] replied with slurs of shaky words.

"I-I can't remember y-your voice,"

#x male reader #male reader #top male reader #fanfiction #fanfic #male x male #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x male reader

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amywritesthings · 3 months ago

Text

silver underground. | chapter 23

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: the night of day 163 - also known as the final confession

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - angst, mentions of death, sensuality, levi is sad(tm) but we are finally giving him what he needs! Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

As soon as Captain Levi hauls himself upright on the saddle of his horse, he’s gone.

Like a bat out of hell, his horse takes off towards the direction of the old Survey Corps headquarters.

Dust and dirt from the hasty exit licks at the tip of your boots.

The rest of the Levi squad had only finished settling on their own horses, with you the last to remain on the forest floor.

“He seems eager to get back,” Petra states with a slow apprehension to her tone.

Oluo grunts in reply, and you know.

You can feel his eyes locked onto the back of your skull.

Asking—

What happened between the two of you?

Why do you remember the outcome of the last mission?

What aren’t you telling us?

The myriad of questions are not lost on you, because you ask them yourself.

After all, you were barely given a chance to explain.

To understand.

Even before the rest of Levi squad made it to the fall site, the tension between you and Levi was palpable.

The way Levi stared at you, held you, in the aftermath.

Trapped between the before times and what you’ve been reduced to before his very eyes —

“James, are you good?” Gunther asks, softer this time, but it's all white noise.

Figure out if you mean it.

If you really do remember — any of this.

Levi's voice is the only one registering in your mind.

If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back.

You do. You know him.

Captain Levi.

Child of the Underground.

Captain of the Special Operations Squad.

Though you know him as something else; something profound; something too devastating to lose.

The one who almost got away.

Before you can say a word, your body moves on autopilot: you shove your foot into a worn stirrup and jump up and onto your horse with the reins gripped in both hands.

Snapping them with newfound urgency, you leave the remaining members of your squad behind to bridge the gap between you and Levi.

Go.

Wind sweeps your emerald cloak like wings behind you as you ride, urging you horse faster, faster, faster—

And you inhale.

The more that you breathe, the more that you push yourself forward, your body feels less like a foreign entity.

Your fingers flex without a detached delay.

The leather against your palm feels right, like—

…like you’ve finally woken up on the right side of the bed again.

By the time you reach the headquarter courtyard, his midnight horse is already tied to a banister at the stable.

In a rushed dismount from your saddle, your shaking hands hurriedly tie the knot around the same banister and rush towards the open doors.

As you run inside your shoes switch from crunch to click, from dirt to concrete floor.

The sky, once swirling in uncertain grays, opens to a light rain.

An incoming storm echoes through cavernous hallways, turning grayed stone to black.

Everywhere you look, he isn’t there — the foyer, the rest areas, the abandoned offices —

"C'mon, c'mon..."

As you turn the corner towards the kitchen, your eager ears pick up the leisure pace of two sets of boots.

You move faster, hoping to see that familiar head of raven hair.

To your surprise, you find Hange and Moblit at the very end of the corridor chatting after a meal.

When they notice your arrival, Moblit gives a little half-smile of recognition while the Section Commander holds out their arms, eager to greet you.

“Hey, hey! She’s back from all the action!” Hange yelps with excitement. “Now tell me, how—”

“Where’s Levi?”

Your sharp question interrupts Hange’s cheerful greeting.

In this light, Hange appears so much clearer to you. Gone is the fuzzy confusion; their outline now just as sharp as their wit and wonder.

(Something like a found safe space, warm and comforting.)

“Levi?” they question. “Huh, I didn’t think he was back.”

So they don’t know yet.

He didn’t say anything.

But he's here, you know he made it back here—

Urgently, you step towards the two.

“I need to know where he is. It’s urgent.”

“Did something happen?” Moblit gently presses.

“I remember,” you state, as if that’ll explain anything. They blink in tandem. “I don’t know how, but it—”

Your hand rises to your mouth, covering it and giving yourself a moment to think.

Except the problem is that you need to say it — thinking, second guessing, slows this down.

Focus.

Your hand drops, and your voice says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hange — you and I once drank Moblit so horrendously under the table that he was bedridden for two days.”

Hange’s boot squeaks against the floor in an echo as they stop dead in their tracks.

“And whenever we meet in the city, Moblit and I order dumplings from that one nice old woman just outside the hospital. I think — you get the most basic order and always make sure to bring something back for Hange.”

Moblit’s eyes shoot wide. “Whoa, that—”

You hold a hand out to placate Hange, who looks like they’re two seconds away from screeching with elation.

“I can’t explain to you know I know all of this, and I don’t have time to figure that out right now. It’s just sort of word-vomiting out of my damn mouth the longer I let myself talk — so I don’t want to stop talking, and I’ll figure out the details and the rest with the two of you later, but it—”

It could disappear at any minute.

You can’t breathe.

It’s so hard to breathe, but do your best to gulp an inhale anyway.

“Please, just… I need – to talk – to Levi.”

Before I forget again.

Before he thinks I’ve forgotten him all over again.

Both Hange and Moblit stare in a haze of surprise.

By the time you open your mouth to plead a third time, Hange holds up a hand.

Their expression darkens with a seriousness they so rarely possess.

“If he’s not by Erwin’s office or with us, then chances are he’s in his bedroom."

His bedroom.

Relief floods your system.

“Right,” you exhale, jolted by adrenaline. “Thanks, Hange.”

With that, you speed off in the opposite direction.

Up the stairwell.

Down the hallway.

Be here, be here, be here.

Fist raised, you lunge forward towards the wooden door—

Yet the door opens freely, and you’re trapped staring into the eyes of Levi Ackerman.

He blinks away his surprise to that evergreen mask of indifference — resignation?

There’s no edge to his shoulders. They’re sagged.

Lowering your fist, you’re met with silence.

(You’ve come to hate silence more than anything.)

So you speak first.

“Can we please—”

“Yeah.”

No pleas heard. No begging to be done.

“Yeah, might as well.”

Levi simply agrees.

The hand gripping the edge pulls the door towards him, conceding with an invitation inside.

Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it — you push your way through, only to pause when your mind begins to recognize just how familiar this room feels with the light dance of rain outside an open window.

Everything is so neat. Clean.

(And in the back of your mind, a voice says it’s exactly how you left it.)

The door locks shut, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Levi casually walks past you, pulling a chair from his desk and flipping it to face his bed.

He sinks down onto it, knees spread apart while his arm rests casually over the back.

“Start, then.”

His voice is guarded, shortened, as his eyes watch you from under wet, black fringe.

You stare, twisting your fingers around and against each other to self-soothe your nerves.

Your nostrils expand as you muster the courage to speak.

Yet when you do, your voice is smaller.

(So much could go wrong in one single moment.)

“I’ll start, just…"

"Just what?"

"Don’t shut me out.”

His eyes narrow. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but this is different,” you argue weakly, wetting your lips.

“Try me,” he flatly goads. “I told you from the beginning—”

“—that you weren’t going to hand us our memories, fuck, I know already,” you bite to chomp off the rest of his statement, tired of hearing him push further distance between you. “Let me talk this bullshit out at you, alright? Not with you — but at you. Because the more I talk, the more things come back — it’s like my fucking unconsciousness is working faster than the rest of my body.”

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

When a few moments have passed, you take several steps forward to meet him — but turn to sit on the edge of his bed.

(Like you know belong there.)

He stops moving entirely, brow knit as he watches you descend.

Start, then.

“Before everyone swooped in, I told you that I thought I knew who I was. But… the more time goes by, it isn't a maybe anymore."

Your eyes remain on your hands, noting the calluses and age-old lines of scars across your fingers and palms.

"And the longer time goes on, the more I talk, it becomes so much clearer."

Remember.

“I never knew my birth mother,” you continue, “not really. As far I know, she died when I was small. A lot of the details are still fuzzy, but some other sick bastard took her place. I think it's so hazy because there’s not much to remember about her. Mother... cared only about winning money."

Lost in your own thoughts, you drop your chin to your chest and exhale.

"I might have had siblings. None of them actually looked like me. They were just... stuck, too. And so many of them died."

All nameless faces.

All battle fodder for the almighty coin.

“I knew that the only way to live was to fight, so I fought. Hard. Every damn day until I couldn't stand on my two feet sometimes. That’s how we met.”

When you lift your eyes to stare him, he doesn’t react.

His nostrils flare in a twitch, but Levi remains in control of himself.

“My mother pit us against each other for money,” you continue softly. “That’s why I kept seeing this small, skinny boy in my dreams at a pub. For weeks, over and over, it was you. I gave you food — I wanted a friend. And…”

You trail off, chewing on your next words very carefully.

“And you gave me that. A friend. A chance to join your gang and live a life that was mine.”

Absently, your hand raises from your lap to your neck.

In the hopes of quelling your budding anxiety, your fingertip runs along the delicate silver chain at your sternum.

An old habit that won’t die, even in a state of memory loss.

Yet you catch him, right as it happens:

Levi’s hardened eyes shamelessly drop from yours — to stare at your fingers.

Your fingertip dips and circles the gray gem, mindful of its smooth texture.

Moments pass.

His eyes do not lift.

A familiar warmth spreads through your chest.

“My necklace.”

Then his eyes raise, as if suddenly aware of where he’s staring.

“You gave it to me, didn’t you?”

You see him in your mind’s eye: a younger version of Levi sitting there, embarrassed to be offering such a delicate, sentimental gift to another person.

His gangly, teenage self overlaps the exhausted, battle-worn Levi across from you in his chair.

Both fighting.

Both surviving.

You feel so small as you try to remember the finite detail. Hitting a wall the longer the silence stretches, you're unable to pinpoint the exact memory.

Your nose scrunches in frustration, searching for that train of thought like a life line.

“It was for my fifteenth— No, maybe my seventeenth—”

“Eighteenth.”

His voice is barely a murmur.

Levi’s eyes do not leave your face.

“It was your eighteenth birthday.”

He manages to capture the memory eluding you before it can float away and dissolve to the wind.

A smile loaded with relief passes your lips.

It’s only a small nudge in the right direction, but it’s all you need for the memory to blossom like a flower on the surface in Spring.

The image of yesteryear blooms—

White, billowing sleeves rolled to his elbows.

A cinched vest kept his clothes from flying off his small frame.

“With a lot of alcohol.”

“Yeah.”

“And a lot of extra cleaning the next morning.”

He exhales, slow and drawn out. “Something like that.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, emotions overwhelming you.

“Ever since Hange gave the necklace back to me, I can’t help but touch it any time I feel stressed or panicked. It’s like all of those bad feelings, they… go away. Disappear like the way titans do.”

Worries, gone like ash.

A ghostlike sensation runs against your lips, forcing you to reach and run along their seam.

Even if it's far away, you see it: a tilted head; black fringe.

Even now, you feel it: his lips so close; eyes wandering; the loss of reason.

“And you… you kissed me that day.”

Your first.

Both of your firsts.

When you smile, you notice then: his knuckles against the back of the chair turn translucent white.

“Wrong,” the captain tightly states.

Wait.

You freeze, fear settling in your belly.

“What?” you question. “But... but you did.”

He’s gripping the wooden backing so hard it could snap.

“I didn’t,” he forces out. “...you kissed me.”

Oh.

He’s not shutting you out.

Elation sweeps over your mind like a soothing balm as memories of pawing hands and inexperienced desire enters the forefront—

Finally clear as day.

Do you regret it, his voice whispers in the abyss.

“I never regretted that,” you reassure him, like you can finally answer him with absolute honesty. “Though technically you leaned in, and I ran with it.”

He huffs in disbelief. "Yeah?"

You smile with certainty. "Yeah."

Kisses between you two were just the tip of the iceberg. You know that now.

You’ve seen it, felt it, tasted it—

In this very bedroom.

After a pause, the captain’s voice comes out strained.

“Of all the damn memories, that’s the one that stands out?”

You can’t help but huff with exhausted amusement.

“It isn’t the only one," you reply. "There are a million fragments I’m still piecing together and not everything makes sense, but there are some things that are just so vivid to me now. like…”

“Like?”

“Like our friends.”

Emotion flickers across his expression as he sits up further.

It’s like he’s been waiting to hear the names of your deceased comrades on your lips.

“You remember—”

“Isabel,” you whisper. “And Furlan. Yeah, it’s… bits and pieces just like everything else, but we grew up with them. I remember how we'd all spend hours zipping around that damn stolen ODM gear like we owned the joint. Somehow four kids managed to make an entire home in the Underground. And I wasn’t — I couldn’t be there when they—”

Profound sadness hits you like a ton of bricks, clipping your words.

I couldn't be there when they died.

The picture isn't complete, but you remember the sinking feeling in your belly when he had told you. So much time had gone by — you can vaguely pick out Isabel's wild red hair and recall thinking maybe the sun looked just like that. Furlan's infectious, warm laugh echoes in the back of your mind.

And you nearly joined them as a memory.

(No wonder why Levi was so angry with you at the start of it all.)

The rain continues to tap against the stone walls outside as another stretch of silence befalls the room.

One of Levi’s hands reaches for his face and runs down the length of it, tugging the skin as he goes.

His eyes drop to the floor, his dampened fringe shielding them from view.

“Un-fucking-believable…”

Your brow furrows.

“What?”

“This.”

That same hand sweeps a frustrated gesture between the two of you.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he grunts. “You hit your goddamn head almost a year ago and — and you nearly did the same fucking thing again today, and you’re telling me that’s all it took to suddenly wake you up?”

The harshness of his words cause you to rear your head back.

Hange nearly ran to you with open arms when you told them you remembered.

You had thought perhaps Levi would do the same once you had proven your mind to him.

Yet he’s reluctant.

Angry.

“That isn’t what I’m saying,” you retort, narrowing your gaze. “I tried telling you months ago that my memories were fragmented, but you didn’t want to hear it. What, were you hoping I wouldn’t remember?”

Instantly his eyes are back on you. “I didn’t say that.”

“It sure feels like that, Levi,” you snip. “Was it because of our fight?”

The whites of his eyes explode.

“Our what?”

“Before we went on the last expedition,” you clarify under your breath. “When you tried sidelining me with counsel to Erwin. I asked you why you didn’t trust me to fight at your side, but it wasn’t that you didn’t trust me.”

What is the excuse you always, always, use?

It was such a vicious question in the heat of the moment.

Levi doesn’t hide his surprise this time.

Although he doesn’t answer your question, you can see it:

The same turmoil that pushed him to the brink of shouting, coming back to haunt him.

Because if I lose you this time, then that’s it!

The rattle of the storm increases in volume right outside his open window, billowing the sheer curtains from the wall.

You promised.

You promised him so many things that day.

Nothing will happen to me.

I’m not going anywhere.

“I won’t die on you, right?” you say to yourself, as if in a daze — trapped between the present and the past. “Because if I did, you’d drag my ass from Hell yourself.”

His face twists, contorts in pain, only for a second.

He catches himself at the precipice before he can truly react, swallowing it down—

And then it hits.

You understand what he isn't saying.

“You haven't stopped blaming yourself,” you realize out loud in a bewildered whisper. “Even after saving my ass a second time, you're still holding onto that guilt like it was a choice you had made instead of me.”

You stand abruptly from the bed and cross the room towards him.

Levi immediately jumps out of his chair like a cat that’s been dunked in water, terrified you’ll push him back under.

No matter how compelled you are to be near him, he repels.

“It wasn't your fault,” you urge, softer this time. “Look at me. Levi — it wasn't your fault.”

His bluish-gray eyes narrow in defense. “Don’t start this—”

“When I fell—”

“No.”

“Levi,” you chastise. “You said we could talk.”

“I did,” he hotly retorts. “Not about that day.”

The air in the room shifts.

“Anything but that day,” he repeats, softer this time. “Please. I just —”

Struggling with what he wishes to say, his chin drops to his chest.

“...despite all my best efforts, despite whatever plans I put in place, I watched you fall in the same shitty forest not once, but twice, like it's a sick fucking dream I get to repeat over and over until I learn.”

All of your facial muscles smooth with sadness. “Except there wasn't anything to learn because you did nothing wrong. Levi, you caught me.”

“But not the first time,” he says simply. “Not when it mattered.”

The way he speaks about himself…

Humanity’s Strongest, reduced to one perceived failure, as if he could rewrite history and control your mistakes.

Timidly you slide a boot forward, testing his resolve.

Levi doesn’t move. His head remains bowed.

“You have spent months punishing yourself for something that I chose to do,” you urge under your breath in a damn-near plea. “What is it that Erwin tells us to do? Dedicate our hearts?"

"Don't use that shit against me, James," he warns.

Raising your hands in surrender, you shake your head wildly. "I'm not. Believe me, I'm not, but you need to understand it was my choice. I wanted to save the others. I wanted my life to matter."

You see his jaw clench like he's forcing himself to hold back what he wants to say.

You step another boot forward.

"Six months ago when I first saw you in that hospital wing in Trost, when you tried to rile me up, it was—”

“An error in judgment," he interrupts.

“Exactly what I needed,” you finish over him.

His head lifts.

You meet, eye to eye.

“I couldn’t understand why I was so transfixed by you,” you continue softly with the utmost sincerity, hoping he will hear you out. “You walked out of that room and all I wanted was to know you. To understand you, like you held this invisible key this entire time that could unlock whatever the hell it was that I was missing. But all you ever did was pull away from me, hide from me, trying to convince me you were some villain in my life—”

“James.”

Abruptly Levi steps forward as if ready to walk straight through you—

—like you’re nothing but a ghost’s apparition.

Instead he is met with living, breathing warmth.

Your eyes can’t leave when his breath tickles the skin of your face.

Levi stares back, entranced by the color of your eyes.

Infected, plagued, by the reality that stands before you both.

One false move, and it’ll be a repeat of the conversation in the tree tops that made him retreat.

“I have tried to keep you safe almost my entire life," Levi murmurs, and you can practically feel the vibrations of his voice rocking through your body.

“And you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Levi, you—”

“I pushed you into danger—”

“Pushed?”

“—and I am sorry—”

Your hand shoots out, turning his cheek to look you dead in the eye.

“Stop it.”

Levi freezes, looking so much more uncertain now that he did ten minutes ago.

“Stop," you repeat with exasperation. “You're not listening to me. I'm here. I'm right here.”

He swallows to coat his throat, motion thick. His neck bobs.

"I don't know how else to convince you it isn't a fluke," you continue, voice cracking. "You won't let yourself see me. You won't let yourself believe I'm not dead. Levi—"

And just when you think you’ve lost him—

He turns towards the warmth.

His cheek nuzzles your open palm, eyes wearily slipping shut, as if helpless to do so.

You’re holding the first face you remember and the last face you’ve seen —

The partner you left in the forest so long ago.

The man that wants more than he’ll ever allow himself to take.

Levi's confession is barely audible:

“...I don't want it to be too good to be true again."

The floorboard creaks as his foot shifts towards you, angling himself towards you.

He inhales slowly through his nose, relishing in a private thought, before shaking his head. His hair nearly tickles your forehead.

When he doesn't open his eyes, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

If he won't see you—

Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his hand until yours curls over it.

At first his fingers flinch in your grasp, his blue-gray eyes snapping wide to watch.

Then eventually they relax, surrendering.

Higher and higher, you skim it past your ribcage and pull it up to your left breast.

His arm tenses, eyes shooting wide.

You remain relaxed. Focused.

“What is it you feel?”

“I don’t under—”

“Just… pause, for once in your life, and tell me what it is you feel.”

You press his palm harder against your chest, your heart hammering beneath your skin.

“Please.”

Albeit apprehensive, Levi doesn’t move away.

His eyes dart to your lips, your sternum, until they lock onto your joined hands.

“You.”

Strained — he chokes on his response.

“I feel… you.”

As if pulled by gravity Levi steadily leans closer, brushing your nose with his.

His jaw clenches, the muscles taut in his mouth, before his palm flattens of his volition against your chest.

Your eyes flutter, relishing in his proximity.

You turn to him, seeking out his body heat.

For the first time in months, you feel it with such certainty.

Familiarity.

His free hand rises to your cheek, cupping the side of your face.

You suck in a sharp breath between parted lips, and he makes a small noise like he’s agonized over being apart from you.

“Every time that I’ve been given the choice, I always choose you,” you confess softly, a mere whisper. “I run right towards you even when I don’t know you. You are the only thing that has ever made sense to me in this world.”

There — you memorize the slide of his calloused palm, running gently along the height of your cheekbone.

Slow, as if mesmerized by your skin’s softness.

Shakily, you continue and choose the point of no return.

“Tell me you don't want me anymore, and I’ll stop running to you. If I have somehow misjudged you and what you might still feel—”

“Say it.”

Levi’s voice engulfs you — the heavy baritone, barely touching your lips.

His expression darkens like he wrestles with two separate trains of thought.

Conflict etched in his brow, he swallows once more and speaks with a tenderness you only remember in dreams.

“Say you remember me.”

After all this time, you've waited for the puzzle to connect.

The pieces that were once scattered now sew themselves together; anew.

He asks without asking.

You answer without uncertainty.

“I remember you.”

As if mesmerized by the curves of your body, Levi’s hand glides from your chest up your throat—

Until his fingers cradle the back of your head.

His other hand remains on the side of your face, holding you as though you could turn into water at any moment.

"Say it again."

You don't hesitate to obey his command.

"I remember you."

To make your point, you turn your chin into his hand — eyes locked — to press a gentle kiss to his palm.

He nearly hisses from the physical contact.

"Again."

Levi's breath slides into your mouth like a phantom kiss of his own.

(Touch starved after so many months apart.)

“I remember you, Levi Ackerman. I remember you, I remember you, I remember—”

You stop talking when he leans in, lips barely brushing yours.

Your breath halts.

His is ragged. Soft.

Then he speaks, as if to pray after a long night of war:

“Dirty trick."

That’s all it takes.

Levi reaches out whip-fast, using the palm against your skull to pull you into a searing, life-altering, mind-numbing kiss.

You go pliant against him, melting like candle wax, willing to take anything he’ll give.

Lips press and pull, his breath hot on your tongue.

His hands search you as if he doesn't know where to touch first — your face, your neck, your shoulder — until he decides to loop his forearm at the small of your back to dip and lift you without ever breaking the kiss.

You jump until your knees bracket his hips, and he pulls you flush to his body.

Levi hastily kicks the chair out of his way to carry you directly to his bed.

And after all this time, you feel it — know it — remember it.

The absence dissipates.

The world finally starts to turn.

You have found your way home.

author's note:

...hehe. So how are we feeling, Levi Nation? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for your patience as I took a little break this summer to write some modern!Levi with Press Four for More Options. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your encouragement and support. (Every reblog gives this writer wings.)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot x reader #snk x reader

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hurdy-girly · 4 months ago

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Bruce sat in front of the bat computer, pinching the bridge of his nose. A dead end.

Again.

He’d been on this case for weeks now. He’d found a hundred leads, and every one had led to less answers and more questions. He could probably make a sweater with all the grey hairs he’d been getting, and his hairdresser could probably buy a bike off of the dye costs alone.

He was the greatest detective in the world. And yet he had no clue who this guy was.

He really only had his instincts to thank for him noticing Tim approaching. If it weren’t for his frankly absurd levels of over preparation over the years he would have jumped out of his seat when the boy leaned over him to squint at the screen.

“Hey B.”

Tim sat down next to him. His body language was relaxed and casual, but Bruce didn’t miss the glint of concern in his eyes.

“Hey Tim.”

Bruce opened a new folder. All of them were starting to look the same.

“…this case is giving you a lot of trouble, huh?” Tim looked at the screen, glancing over the text. Bruce had missed so many dinners that he was pretty sure Alfred was going to drug him to drag him to the one tonight. He wasn’t surprised his children had picked up on it, too. “Do you need a second opinion?”

Bruce bristled a bit before meeting Tim’s eye. But Tim was just concerned. Not judgmental.

Bruce wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to his kids being that gracious with him. Or with anyone being like that.

“…it may be helpful.” Tim seemed surprised at Bruce’s admission. “Especially because all of this happened while I was… gone.”

“Oh.” Tim grew silent. The two had discussed the events and effects of Bruce’s disappearance into the time stream before, but it was still a tough topic between them. Between everyone. “…so. What’s the deal?”

Bruce sighed, pulling up his original files. “While I was gone, this person appeared. His case would be unalarming, but… this guy was everywhere. Tens of countries, none of them legally, all within the span of a few months. He ended up on several government wanted lists. He seemed to be everywhere. So many organizations locked onto him, but he just… kept getting away. No one could track him down, and… I’m starting to think I can’t either.”

Tim frowned, scooting closer to the screen. “And we didn’t look into this guy sooner?”

Bruce shook his head. “He seemed to slip through the cracks. But this guy… he got places no one should have been. My current working theory is that he’s a meta, or some sort of magical entity. I’m considering sending John some of this to get his opinion.”

Tim blinked. “That bad, huh? What’s this guy’s name?”

Bruce sighed. “I’m not sure. There were a couple I found, and I’m not sure if any of them are even the true name. There was one that got noted down a bit more often than the rest.”

Bruce pulled up his first document.

“Alvin Draper.”

Tim fell very quiet.

Bruce looked over at him. A bit of worry hit him. Had Tim met this guy before? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was everything alright?

Who was this guy?

“Okay, B? I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this.”

#I wrote this at like 2 am lol #I had the idea months ago #and I felt like it deserved to be shared #no clue if this aligns with canon but oh well #dc #Batman #Bruce Wayne #red Robin #Tim drake #alvin draper #writing #one shot #fandom writing #hurdy girly

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

my angry cinnamon roll gf’s 🤭

feel free to read the proper full fic that this is a spin off from here

ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

"did she say she wasn't coming?" lia asked again with a frown as you shrugged hopelessly, just as clueless to your girlfriends absence from training as the rest of the team, leah now almost an hour late and not answering anyone's calls.

"no she was already up and getting ready when i left, she seemed fine?" you explained, having left before your girlfriend to get a coffee with lotte who had then driven the two of you to training, leahs unusual absence causing a pit of worry to form in the bottom of your stomach.

"oh thank god here she is hold on.” you breathed a sigh of relief as her contact flashed on your screen.

“may i please be excused quickly jonas? its leah." you asked softly, wincing as you interrupted the briefing and felt everyone’s eyes watching on as you hurried out of the room, accepting the call.

"leah where the hell are you? you're late and you're never late! in fact you are always on my case about making us late to things." you rambled, stepping outside and holding the phone to your ear.

"yeah uh, i sort of…ran into some car trouble on the way there." leah replied in a strange tone of voice making you frown. "car trouble? whats happened? are you alright?" you questioned quickly with growing concern, leaning against the wall behind you as your mind raced with all the worst case scenarios.

"well..." leah trailed off and you waited patiently for an answer but there wasn't one. "well? just spit it out lee, as long as you're safe we can fix whatever happened, a car is only something material babe." you assured her softly, feeling your chest tighten with nerves at her obvious hesitation to come clean.

"no no it wasn't an accident or anything I um, well I-" leah danced around her words and you felt your patience thinning, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"isortoflostmylicensecauseigotdonespeedingagainandineedyoutocomeandpickmeup." your girlfriend word vomited so fast you couldn't make out a single word of what she was saying. "what? slower please lee." you pinched at the bridge of your nose, exhaling deeply.

"i sort of lost my license cause i got done speeding again and i need you to come and pick me up…please." leah repeated and your eyes widened as you finally understood, the silence on your side of the line causing leahs stomach to twist into knots.

"please don't be mad i know you're always onto me about it and i really think this is the thing i needed to learn my lesson but- hey are you laughing at me?" leah frowned as you doubled over, resting a hand on your knee as you were indeed laughing at the predicement.

"oi its not funny! i can't drive for three months now!" leah shouted and you could almost hear the stroppy pout which would be forming on the older girls lips.

"it is funny because i did in fact warn you of this time and time again and you never listened. i told you so!" you sung out with a grin, leah somewhat relieved you weren't upset with her but also not appreciating that your amusement was at her expense.

"too bad i wasn't there to flirt your way out of it huh?" you smiled smugly, rewarded with an annoyed huff and a half understood grumbled insult.

"sorry what was that? you're going to walk to training? wonderful i'll see you soon!" you teased, leah yelling out a hasty apology and practically begging you not hang up, something which was more than rare from your normally over confident girlfriend.

"please come get me! i'm stranded and it's really embarrassing, what if someone recognises me?" leah whined and you rolled your eyes that of course that was her biggest concern right now.

"why don't you just sit in the car then while you wait?" you sighed with a small smile, the silence on the other end telling you all you needed to know.

"oh leah....you didn't. not again!" "stop leah'ing me, you sound like my mum!" "oh i can't wait to tell your mum about this." "don't you fucking dare!"

this was not a one off occasion. leah determined to buy the most tricked out car she could had spared no expense on the bells and whistles, though one of these had time and time again meant she’d locked her keys inside the insanely posh vehicle.

"baby i warned you when you bought that stupidly expensive car that the self locking feature would bite you in the ass." "now is so not the time for an i told you so. just come and pick me up!" "come pick you up..." "right now?" "leah!" "sorry. please please please come pick me up gorgeous. i love you?"

"i'll get someone to drive me now. you know you could just get an uber leah." "what did i say about leah'ing me!" ~

"there she is." you pointed out your girlfriend with a grin as katie slowed down a little, leah sat on the curb with her hoodie pulled over her head, clearly attempting to hide herself but the glaringly obvious red and blue arsenal tracksuit did her no favors.

"she looks like that kid who runs away from home gets about five minutes down the road and calls for their parents to come pick them up!" beth laughed at your girlfriends sour expression as you pulled beside her, though you'd note that to the others in the back all pointing and teasing her.

"you had to bring a crowd?" leah grumbled, standing to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at beth and laura in the back who were pulling faces at her.

"what’s to say other than we all just had to witness the miracle for ourselves!" katie beamed as you leaned over and whispered something quickly in her ear, the irish woman nodding subtly with a smirk.

"go on then speed demon in ya hop!" katie teased, leah reaching for the door handle as she suddenly jerked the car forward and away from her, the four of you grinning as leahs jaw tightened.

“come on leah, in we get!” laura called out much like you would encourage a dog to return to its owner, which was not lost on leah who gave the younger girl a frighteningly filthy look.

"come on woman we haven't got all day you know!" beth tapped at her wrist mocking the time as once again leah reached for the door and katie moved the car forward slightly, sending the four of you into hysterics like naughty school kids at the back of the bus.

"nah you know what fuck this! i'm walking." your girlfriend fumed, kicking at the back of katies car and storming off down the road. you were quick to unbuckle yourself, jumping out and racing off after her as the girls all called out for her to get in the car.

"baby, get in the car." you grabbed her hand, looking at her with an amused smile as the taller blonde simply glared back at you wordlessly as you wrapped yourself around her in a hug, her arms remaining stoic by her side as she refused to engage in it.

"relax the face, relax the face." you cooed sarcastically and stroked at her forehead and cheeks trying to smooth away the deep frown lines as the defender smacked your hands away but you saw a hint of a smile grace her features as you stole a quick kiss and tugged her back with you towards the car.

leahs frown deepened as she was met with slow claps and she slid in the back beside laura, flipping them all off and sinking down into her seat.

"good news mccabe. as my work wife you have now been promoted and unlocked a new daily task. driving us to training!" you grinned as the irish woman rolled her eyes playfully.

"only if you caress my thigh and hold my hand like you do with blondie darlin." katie smirked at leah through the rear view mirror as you agreed, reaching out to accept her offered hand, intertwing your digits over the middle console.

"mccabe if you'd like to ever walk again i'd suggest you not touch her, or else i may have to accidentally studs up tackle you in every single drill." leah warned seriously, katie only grinning and bringing your intertwined hands up to her mouth, kissing your knuckles as you sarcastically swooned and leah huffed.

"now now don't worry, i'm sure vivs happy to share." beth teased, holding her hand up toward leah expecting her to kiss it as the blonde simply shot her a murderous look and smacked it away.

this was going to be a long three months.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc x reader #awfc

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bratdotcom · 3 months ago

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Froyo to Go !

( Stan Pines x reader || taking Dipper and Mabel to get froyo )

You try to hide the smile on your face as you look out the window at the passing scenery. It was a slow day at the Mystery Shack. Stan decided to be nice and take you and the twins out to beat the heat with froyo because the freezer broke.

You look at the twins in the rear view mirror. Mabel was absolutely over the moon, talking almost everyone's ear off about which flavor she was going to get with corresponding toppings while Dipper seemed to be talking to himself on how to get the most frozen yogurt without overfilling it to the brim.

Stan pulls El Diablo into the parking lot.You gaze up at the giant, visibly sun-bleached cup of froyo in a perpetual spinning motion on top of the shop's roof as the car roars to a stop. You can hear Mabel gasp in awe as she spots the giant spinning froyo cup from the passenger's seat. Unsurprisingly, because of the heat, there was a small line forming right outside the door.

You all collectively step out of the car, Dipper retches, clutching his mouth. He must've gotten carsick from reading while Stan was driving. Mabel rushes to grab onto the man's arm. He smiles playfully at her when he raises his bicep up to carry her a couple inches off of the ground. You knew he'd probably complain about the joint pain later, but it was worth it to see Mabel smile. "Twenty dollars's all I got. Take it or leave it." Stan holds up a crisp, twenty dollar bill in between his fingers like a playing card as he speaks to his great niece, lowering her back onto the ground as you all group into the line.

"You really give it your all for those kids." you say quietly to him, cocking your head to the side slightly as you speak into his ear. You both watch as they play fight each other, Dipper flips his sister's hair over her back to cover her face as some sort of way to block her punches. "Our kids." he corrects, holding you close by hooking his arm around your waist.

You stumble against him at the sudden pull, making him chuckle to himself. "But you ain't wrong about what you said." he adds, adjusting his glasses against the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to soften as the glare of the sun reflected off of the lenses of his glasses.

"Remember when you made me pour all my beer cans out back?" he asks, already knowing the answer to his question. "Yes, I remember it clearly, Stanley." you reply softly, poking his beer gut. "You probably got a soda gut now, huh? Mr.Pitt soda Pines."

Stanley snorts to himself, playfully slapping your wrist away, which makes you laugh as well. "Will you two hurry up?" Dipper's voice cracks slightly as he calls out for the two of you. "The line's already moving, c'mon, people!" He says, as if he was the one who drove the car all the way here.

"You got two senior citizens breakin' their backs for ya, kid. Don't try your luck." Stan says as he holds you close to him, making you move forward as he does the same to catch up with the kids.

You're hit with the cold air of an AC above your head as you go inside. The amount of neon colors used to decorate the frozen dessert shop hurt your eyes badly.

Stan pats the small of your back, letting go of your waist. "Make sure they don't go crazy or somethin'. I'll find us a seat." He says gruffly, allowing you to follow and watch over the twins.

Stanley clutches his hip as he sits down with a sigh.

He leans his weight against the table, with a perched elbow he watches as you talk to the kids, making sure neither of them felt left out as you helped them pick out froyo flavors and toppings.

"Grunkle Stan!" The twins say in unison, Mabel turns around to look for the man himself. With a small heave, he uses the table for support to lift himself back onto his feet.

"Alright, alright. You don't need to holler to get me, y'know. I'm not that old." Stan says, making you stifle a laugh. He pulls out his wallet, handing a twenty dollar bill to the cashier.

"Uhm, sir," the cashier's strained voice makes his words somewhat hard to hear for both you and Stan's ears. "You're one dollar off." He says, pointing at the customer display, which showed that he owed exactly twenty-one dollars. Which he did not have.

Stan gives you the look that you were oh-so-familiar with. "Listen here, kid." He leans the side of his arm against the counter.

Stan was trying to impress you. As if he hadn't won you over for almost a decade.

"How about I give you a couple of Mystery Bucks? Get ya a couple dollars off whatever you buy from the Mystery Shack. How's that sound?" He does his signature smile, pointing a finger gun at the cashier.

Judging by the cashier's almost dead-eyed stare, he wasn't buying it. "...do you have the dollar or not?" He asks, waiting for Stan's answer.

"No. I don't." Stan's smile never falters as he speaks. Oh. You knew where this was going now.

Subtly, you grab a couple of spoons from the cup near the register. You stuff them into your pocket as you slowly drag the cups of froyo off of the weighing scale. You could tell which cup belonged to who, by the weight of each cup alone.

Stan slaps a couple of coupons onto the counter. "Go! Go! Go!" He quickly says, bolting for the door.

He holds the door long enough for the three of you to run out as well. Stan slides over the hood of his car, hurriedly opening the driver's side and jingling his keys into the ignition.

He pops the passenger’s side door open from the inside, letting you in. Mabel, followed by Dipper, jumps into the back seat with a bounce.

Dipper is completely out of breath as the car screeches out of the froyo shop parking lot. He murmurs a breathless thank you when you hand him his cup.

You weren't even surprised to see Mabel not affected in the slightest as you passed the girl her froyo cup. You had to use two hands to give it to her. She gives you an enthusiastic grin and a thank you as well. She buckles her brother's seatbelt on as he catches his breath.

As the car stops at a red light, Stan slouches forward in the driver's seat. "I think I'm gonna be bedridden for a couple of days." Stan says, rubbing his back with a groan. You rub his back with a chuckle as he begins the drive back home.

#♡ ⊹ ۫ ۪ ꒰͡₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ reblogs n' feedback r greatly appreciated !! support ur local fanfic writers !! ♡ ͡꒱#♡ : stanley pines hearts club !!#︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿#stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fluff

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pinkthick · 8 days ago

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A Nocturne in Melody

Pairing: Vampire!Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor chuckled, finally breaking into a smile. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “Well, someone’s confident,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Maybe I need to be less generous with my compliments if you’re going to be like this.”

Notes: So this takes place practically in part 3, but I decided to divide them. (You can read it even if you haven’t read the previous parts) This is probably my first smut that tends to be vanilla, but it focuses more on the emotional and intimate part—and I think that serves Viktor right. With all these being said, enjoy!🙏🏻

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI OR I’LL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS. 🗣️ and dw it doesn’t contain spoilers.

Masterlist: A Nocturne in Melody

Part 4

As you stepped into the apartment, the cold of the rain still clung to you both, water dripping from your clothes and leaving small puddles on the floor. You could barely close the door behind you before Viktor turned, pulling you close once more, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was hungry, almost desperate. His hand cupped your face gently, and yet there was an intensity to the way his fingers curled around you, as though he wanted to remember every sensation, every movement.

But as you shifted to meet his embrace, a sharp pain shot through your leg. You winced, instinctively pulling back, and Viktor’s eyes widened, immediately concerned.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” he whispered, stepping back just enough to give you space, his face a mix of apology and worry. His gaze dropped to your leg, the worry clear in his expression.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, giving him a reassuring smile as you reached for him again. This time, you let your cane drop to the floor, letting it fall with a soft clatter as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back into the kiss. You felt the tension ease out of him as his arms found their way around your waist, drawing you closer until there was barely an inch between you. His lips met yours again, softer this time, a hint of hesitance, as if he was holding himself back.

You could feel the damp fabric of his shirt under your fingers as you reached up to loosen his tie, slowly, deliberately, untying the knot. Viktor’s breath hitched slightly as he watched you, his amber-red eyes darkened with a mix of nervousness and something deeper. He swallowed hard, looking almost shy as you let the tie slip from his collar and drop to the floor.

Since his transformation, this closeness had taken on a different meaning. There was an intensity in his touch now, a new strength in his embrace, and yet he seemed more hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between what you both had shared before and who he was now. Back then, you’d often taken the lead, knowing he’d tire easily or feel the effects of his illness. But now, there was a hesitance in him, a layer of shyness as though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the power he held.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and he shivered slightly, his fingers instinctively tightening at your waist, as though grounding himself. His gaze flickered to yours, watching every move you made as if trying to read your thoughts. When you reached the last button, you paused, meeting his gaze, and he gave you a soft, almost bashful smile, a hint of color rising in his cheeks despite everything you’d shared in the past.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, a vulnerability in his expression that made your heart ache. It was Viktor, the same person you’d loved through years of struggle and uncertainty, yet now there was something in his eyes that was almost new — a hint of insecurity, a question that went unspoken.

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you nodded. “We’ve got engaged after all.”

With a deep breath, Viktor’s lips met yours again, more assured this time. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, carefully sliding it down, his touch feather-light as if afraid to hurt you. You let the fabric fall, leaving your shoulders bare as the dress slipped down, pooling at your feet. Viktor’s gaze softened, his hands moving up to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as continued to kiss you, his lips pressing to yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a hint of uncertainty lingering. “I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, reaching up to run a hand through his damp hair, the strands soft beneath your fingers. “I know this is going to be different, but I trust you.”

The words seemed to calm him, and he relaxed, leaning into your touch as his hands moved down, tracing over your arms, your sides, exploring each curve with a newfound confidence. His fingers were gentle, but there was a hint of firmness in his touch, a quiet strength that felt both familiar and new. He took his time, as though savoring every moment, every inch of you, his gaze warm and adoring as he held you close. You felt your breath quicken as his hands found their way to your hips, pulling you against him. There was something different about him, a quiet assurance in the way he moved, as though he was finally allowing himself to embrace this new part of himself. His fingers trailed along your spine, sending shivers through you, and he smiled, a bit shyly, at the way you reacted to his touch.

And then he leaned down, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he traced a path from your collarbone to your shoulder. You felt his fangs brush lightly against your skin, but he held back, his restraint evident, as if he was afraid to lose control.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his grip tightened, his hands pressing into your waist as if anchoring himself. There was a softness to his movements, a care that was almost reverent, and as you looked into his eyes, you could see the love and vulnerability reflected there. He guided you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap, his hands steady as they found your waist again, holding you close. You felt his warmth, the steady beat of his heart against your chest, as he layed down with you.

Viktor’s fingers trailed up as he undid your bra, his touch warm and steady, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips soft and inviting. You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and even now, he fidgeted slightly, his hands hovering as if unsure where to settle them. The lingering hint of rain hung in the air, mixing with his nervous laughter as he tried to settle his focus on you instead of his apprehensions.

He exhaled, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I just feel like I won’t actually excel in this,” he admitted, glancing down with a slight flush. “There are plenty of things I haven’t done before.”

“Viktor,” you said, feeling a smile tug at your mouth, “you’re thinking like a scientist when we’re having sex.”

He chuckled, his head dropping for a second before he met your gaze again, his red eyes warm, soft, and full of vulnerability. “Not sexy?”

“Not sexy,” you teased. “But if you’re that scared, then just let me guide you.”

He let out a shaky breath, the faintest laugh under his breath. “I feel like a virgin all over again.”

You chuckled as your hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, steady and strong but with a quickening pulse just beneath the surface. He was healthier than he’d ever been, yet somehow he was shy, almost like the Viktor you’d known before everything changed.

“Then let me help,” you murmured, pressing closer. Your hand brushed his cheek, soft and slow, giving him a smile of encouragement as you closed the space between you. He looked nervous, yet he responded to your touch with a gentle hum, his fingers grazing along your back, unsure but eager to please. There was something endearing about his apprehension, something that reminded you of how tentative he could be despite his vampire strength.

He swallowed, his eyes half-lidded as he met your gaze. "I just...I want to get this right for you. Just tell me what to do."

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you let your fingers wander down his chest, feeling the tension there, the way his breath hitched with each of your movements. "You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?" A low, reluctant groan escaped him as you trailed your fingers further down, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric. You were met with a gaze full of both vulnerability and desire, something raw that Viktor rarely let himself show. He clutched your other hand as if seeking reassurance, his breathing uneven.

"I don’t...I don’t want to disappoint you."

You leaned in, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered softly, “You could never disappoint me, my good boy.” you couldn’t help but stroke him, just a little, feeling the way he reacted to your touch. His hips moved instinctively, thrusting forward slightly as he let out a low groan. His face flushed, his eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and desire. His body betrayed him, moving on its own, and you could tell that it was all he could do to keep from losing control entirely.

“You’re not the only one who can’t keep their hands to themselves,” you whispered, your voice teasing, yet filled with affection. “You feel that, Viktor? You’re making me crazy.”

He felt pathetic. You weren’t even stroking him properly, just through his boxers. His breath caught in his throat as you continued to stroke him, the tension between you growing with every second.

Viktor's hands trembled just slightly as he caught yours, stopping your touch and looking down at you with that familiar gaze that held so much warmth, so much affection—and tonight, something even more intense, something raw. He was panting, trying to steady himself, and his voice came out low, barely above a whisper.

“Too much?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

He shook his head, his hand still holding yours gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself. “N—no,” he said, his breath hitching. “But tonight... tonight isn’t about me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, soft and full of warmth. There was something endearing about his determination, about how he wanted to give this to you, even if his own restraint was a challenge. It reminded you of everything that made him who he was—kind, selfless, always thinking of others first.

You relaxed against him, letting him guide you as he positioned your thighs, his touch reverent yet slightly hesitant, as if still uncertain of his own control. You raised an eyebrow, your voice teasing as you asked, “You were bolder outside, what happened?”

“Hush. You told me you’d let me work.” A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, and you could see the light in his eyes, a mix of amusement and anticipation. He had surprised himself outside, you knew, and now the closeness, the privacy, was letting his self-consciousness creep back in.

But he didn’t shy away. Viktor’s hand moved down, and he hooked his fingers into the fabric of your panties, tugging them off slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. Every movement felt deliberate, as if he wanted to savor this, to make it last.

As he guided your legs just a bit wider, positioning you carefully, he paused, glancing down at you with a touch of concern. “Pillow?” he asked. You nodded as Viktor’s hand moved to gently support your lower back, positioning a pillow under you with deliberate care. Even in this intimate moment, he remained gentle, ensuring you were comfortable, his attention solely on your needs. Fuck, you loved him. He gave you a reassuring smile before finally slipping off his boxers, his movements a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his gaze tracing over every detail as if he wanted to commit it to memory. His voice was soft but filled with emotion as he whispered, “You’re... so perfect. I don’t say this enough.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, his sincerity so evident in his gaze that it made your heart ache with affection. “You do say it enough.”

He shook his head as he settled over you, his touch became more confident, a slow, steady exploration that revealed his growing comfort in this new closeness. His hands slid over your skin, fingertips leaving a trail of warmth as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, then moved lower, his lips tracing the curve of your collarbone with a careful reverence that made you shiver.

For Viktor, this felt like uncharted territory, taking the lead, and yet, with each shared touch, you could feel him finding his footing, grounding himself in the connection you both shared. You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, pulling him closer, and he leaned into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He paused, searching your eyes, as if needing that final reassurance. You offered him a smile, cupping his face, and he melted into you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deep. The moment he entered you, there was a sharp intake of breath from both of you—a shared gasp as you adjusted to each other, every sensation intensified by the tenderness of the moment. Viktor’s hand found yours on the sheets, his fingers lacing with yours as he pinned it down, a grounding connection that sent a thrill through you both.

“God—” he breathed, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he settled into place, adjusting carefully as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. There was a vulnerability there, a glimmer of awe, as though he was still in disbelief that this was happening, that you were here together like this.

“Fuck,” you murmured back, a smile breaking through despite yourself. You could feel the depth of his emotions, the uncertainty giving way to a deep-seated trust. “Didn’t do this in a long time, huh?”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped him, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in response. “No,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Not... not like this.” He dipped his head, pressing his lips against your shoulder, and then gave an experimental thrust.

You moaned, and Viktor’s eyes widened slightly at the sound, his own breath hitching in response. That little flash of confidence crept back into his expression, and he leaned into it. He felt you fully relax around him and started out slow. He set a languorous pace, softly opening you and filling you up with his cock. You wrapped your arms around his back, feeling his muscles flex under his skin. The feeling of him was amazing, his weight above you, his pelvic bone softly grinding against your clit.

His gaze was intense, his red eyes searching yours as though he was committing every detail of you to memory. “Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice slightly unsteady but laced with that earnest desire to make this everything you needed.

You nodded, tightening your grip on his hand as you arched up to meet him, encouraging him with a whispered, “Yes. Perfect. Just... just like that.”

Viktor’s breath caught again at your words, and he gave another deep thrust. The awkwardness of before was melting away, replaced by a confident rhythm that felt like it belonged to both of you, a dance you shared. Then he shifted his angle, his eyes locked with yours, a small smirk forming as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Oh God, yes.” The words escaped you, filled with more intensity than you’d meant to reveal, and Viktor’s smirk widened, a hint of cockiness he rarely showed.

“Right here?” he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper, but carrying an edge of satisfaction that made your heart race. His eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and surprise; he’d never been able to do this, and it seemed to fuel his confidence even more.

“Yes—" you gasped, "don’t stop, Viktor. Please.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He adjusted his stance slightly, focusing with the same intensity you’d seen him apply to his work in the lab. But this was different—this was for you, for both of you, and every small movement seemed to bring you both closer together. He lowered his hand to your stomach, his fingers splayed across your skin, feeling how he was sliding in and out of you. It was such a turn-on for both of you, each movement he made was a sweet, relentess tourture.

Your moans and his low groans were probably heard throughout the whole building, but the two of you could not give any damn at the moment. It was all so overwhelming—but you need more and he needs more.

As Viktor’s pace quickened, he held you close, every movement conveying the intensity of his emotions. His strength and confidence were new, almost foreign, but you could sense the tenderness beneath the roughness as he guided you, careful to hold you with an awareness of your limits. The familiar Viktor, who had always been so gentle and cautious, was still there, but now with a bolder edge.

He brought his lips close to your neck, and you felt the slight graze of his fangs, a reminder of how much he had changed—and yet, how much he was still the same. It sent a thrill through you, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, the weight of everything you had both been through together.

“V-Viktor,” you managed, your breath catching as he met your gaze. A flicker of warmth and wonder passed over his expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to the delicate skin of your neck. “I know, love,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Come for me… my beautiful.”

The words wrapped around you, grounding you even as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Instinctively, your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to feel its softness. Viktor inhaled sharply, his reaction almost instant. The quiet, reserved Viktor you knew seemed to vanish as he let out a soft, breathless moan, his intensity deepening.

You focused on coming, you wanted to come for him, because you know that would send him to spiral to his orgasm.

And so, for a moment, you closed your eyes, just feeling. The feeling of him above you. His hand holding yours. His hand gripping your hips tightly, it would probably leave a mark. His lips on your neck. His breath by your ear. His growls and low moans. His clean sweat coating his and your skin. And his cock, continually and steadily pounding into you.

“That’s it, love. Please, come for me.” his words fell from his lips finally made you come. “Come on, beautiful.”

“Fuck. Viktor—” you cried out as you came. You gripped his arm firmly as he continued to push himself in and out of you, helping himself to orgasm. Not too long you could feel his cock twitch, his pace slowing down, and his hips stuttering in movements.

A low groan and a sharp “fuck” fell from Viktor’s lips. Your hands travel lower to his waist, holding him in place and this made him cum inside you. His cum fills you up, his warmth painting your walls as he whimpered. Fucking hell.

Both of you stopped moving, breathless and warm in each other's embrace, Viktor was still close, his forehead resting against yours as he steadied his breathing. His chest rose and fell against you, and he was clearly spent, you could feel that he was softing inside of you. There was something almost boyish in his expression—an awe that was both endearing and unguarded, showing how new this level of closeness was to him. Tiredly, he pulls out of you, some of his cum dripping out of you. But before it could mess the sheets, he dropped between your legs and licked up his dripping cum. He caught it with his tongue, cleaning you up. Then Viktor slid upward so his lips could meet yours.

He kissed you, his tongue meeting yours and you gently sucked on it, tasting him and yourself.

When the two of you broke the kiss, you opened your eyes and met his gaze. He blinked down at you, his eyes full of wonder, and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face. “You’re okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability slipping through despite his strength, as if he were still checking in, still hoping this had been as good for you as it had been for him.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching between your breaths, and pulled him close again for a soft, lingering kiss. “More than okay,” you murmured, and the sincerity in your words brought a fresh wave of emotion to his face. Viktor’s hands cradled your face as though you were something precious, and the way he looked at you in that moment felt like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

His fingers brushed over your cheek, and he shook his head with a small, disbelieving laugh, clearly overwhelmed. “I…I can hardly believe this,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and filled with a raw honesty that he rarely allowed himself to show. He hesitated, glancing down at the ring on your finger—a symbol he had once doubted he would ever be able to give you. “Just to think,” he murmured, his voice muffled yet brimming with a sense of awe, “we’re actually getting married.” He settled himself against you, laying his head under your chin, his body relaxed yet holding you as though he were anchoring himself to reality. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you wrapped your arms around him, savoring the comfort of having him close.

A pang of regret surged through you, and you closed your eyes, guilt flooding your chest. The words slipped out before you could hold them back, a quiet confession. “Viktor…I’m really sorry for earlier. I just… maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Viktor pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression soft yet unreadable. He let out a small, sad chuckle, shaking his head gently. “No, I mean—I understand. Really, I do,” he said softly, and you could tell he meant it. There was no anger, no resentment, only a tender understanding that somehow made your heart ache more. “I’m also terrified of losing you, probably more than you realize. It’s…it’s strange, isn’t it? For so long, I worried about my own health, my own time…how it could slip away. But now, I see all the days ahead, and you’re in every single one of them. I don’t want that to change.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to the ring on your finger, and he swallowed, the vulnerability in his eyes bared fully to you. “If I can have even just some decades with you,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly as he looked at you, “then I’ll take them. I want them more than anything.” The rawness in his tone, the sheer honesty, was something you knew didn’t come easily to him.

You felt a tightness in your throat, a mixture of guilt and overwhelming love that left you speechless for a moment. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours again, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice softer than ever, “I want to have forever with you.”

He wanted forever, but you both knew that wasn’t a promise he could keep, not in the way either of you wished. The reality of it hung between you, a reminder of the time you’d never have enough of.

Your hand reached up to cradle his cheek, and you felt a small tremor beneath your fingers as he held himself there, vulnerable and open. “Viktor…” you started, but words seemed inadequate. How could you explain the doubts that had briefly overtaken you, the fear of holding him back, of being the one he might eventually outlive? You knew it sounded so foolish now, looking into his eyes and seeing only love and certainty.

“I love you so much,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t know how to explain what I was thinking tonight. I just… I thought maybe it would be better for you, but—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firmer this time, his hands coming up to hold your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Please, don’t think that. Don’t even consider it.” His thumb traced over your cheek as he shook his head. “You were never, and could never be, a burden to me. I don’t care if it means facing the inevitable someday. All I know is that I want every moment I can have with you. I want to build a life with you, however much time we get.”

His words washed over you, filling the cracks of doubt you had let grow, and you realized that he had given you exactly what you needed to hear. You hadn’t fully appreciated how deeply he had considered the same fears and still come to the same conclusion, that love was worth every risk.

Viktor’s gaze softened as he noticed the lingering conflict in your expression, the way you seemed caught between joy and guilt. “I just,” he began, his voice gentle as he tilted your chin up to look at him more closely, “you stayed with me, all those times I worried about my own limits… You didn’t leave when things were hardest, even when I didn’t know if I could give you a future. You deserve to feel the same kind of certainty, love.” He paused, the warmth in his eyes growing as he took a deep breath. “That’s why I chose to propose tonight. Not just because I finally could, but because I wanted you to know that it was never a question of ‘if’ but only ‘when.’ You’ve always been my future. Even when I couldn’t imagine living long enough to make it real, I knew it was with you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt yourself soften, the last remnants of your fears melting away in the warmth of his unwavering gaze. How could you have doubted him, even for a moment? Viktor’s love had been as steadfast as the way he looked at you now, and the reality of that truth finally broke through, leaving you without anything but gratitude and love in its place.

With a small laugh, you lifted your hand and you felt his hand move to your ring once again, his fingers brushing over it almost reverently. “I feel like an absolute idiot, you know that?” you said, smiling through the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I was so close to pushing you away when… when this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Viktor laughed softly, his own smile breaking through as he brushed his lips against your forehead. “Well, lucky for you,” he whispered, his tone light yet full of meaning, “I wouldn’t have let you.”

You chuckled through a shaky breath, still overwhelmed by the sheer warmth of his presence, the way he held you as though he could protect you from everything, including your own fears. The comfort in his touch, his words, his gaze—it was everything you needed and more. He started to press his lips against your neck, his mouth lingering just over your pulse. He could feel the rhythm of your heartbeat—steady, strong, warm against his lips. As he began to kiss the soft skin there, his mind was suddenly flooded with a wave of emotions, raw and unfiltered, emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel this deeply.

Is this…is this how you felt? When you knew that he might not live long enough to see a future with you, had you also felt this way? Had you also been this scared? This terrified of losing him? And if you had felt this—if you had felt even a fraction of this ache he was feeling now—how on earth had you managed to bear it?

He kissed you softly, as if trying to offer an apology he hadn’t known he owed you. His lips brushed over the spot where your pulse throbbed, and he let them linger, feeling the beat of your life under his mouth, grounding him in this moment. He wanted to mark you somehow, to leave a piece of himself with you, a reminder of this love that seemed as vast and endless as the night sky outside. So he kissed you there again, a little more firmly, his lips sucking gently against your skin as he decided to leave a hickey, a token of his love, his need, his presence.

And when he heard you whimper softly under his touch, felt the shiver that ran through you as he sucked on your skin, Viktor felt something break inside him—a fierce, overwhelming wave of love, yes, but also a deeper fear than he’d ever known. A fear he had never fully confronted until now.

How did you bear it, knowing that each day, each moment, could be the last? How did you manage to stay so strong, so unshakable, for him, never once letting him see the worry that must have gnawed at you? He remembered all the times you’d smiled for him, the reassuring words you’d offered whenever he grew too tired or too weak to keep going. You had always been there, unwavering, a source of light in the dark, guiding him forward even when he was ready to give up. And yet, he realized now, you must have felt this fear too—this same terrible, all-consuming fear that clawed at him now.

But you’d hidden it so well. You’d hidden it behind your laughter, your gentle smiles, your touch that had always reassured him when he needed it most. And now, knowing what you must have gone through, he felt a sudden rush of guilt. Had he ever thanked you properly? Had he ever truly understood what you’d given up, how much you’d sacrificed just to stay by his side? He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken you for granted, if he’d ever really grasped how strong you’d been, all while he’d been lost in his own struggle.

With a shaky breath, he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching your face as if he could find the answers there, as if he could finally understand everything you had gone through for him. His gaze softened, filled with a tenderness that mirrored the depth of his gratitude and love. He brushed a hand over your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper.

“I know I am.” And he scoffed and then you took his hand, lacing your fingers with his, giving him the same comforting squeeze he’d felt a thousand times before.

“Seriously?” he huffed, eyebrows raised, though the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Here I am, giving you a beautiful, heartfelt compliment, and that’s what you say?”

You grinned, barely able to hold back a laugh. “What can I say? You set the bar high. Just trying to keep up with all these compliments you keep giving me.”

Viktor gave you a look, narrowing his eyes like he was ready to play along with this newfound challenge. “Oh, is that right?” He leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his voice dropping low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I guess I should stop then. Don’t want to make your ego any bigger than it already is.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Please, like you could resist.”

Viktor chuckled, finally breaking into a smile. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “Well, someone’s confident,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Maybe I need to be less generous with my compliments if you’re going to be like this.”

“Really?” you replied, matching his grin with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, really.” He leaned in close, a mischievous glint in his eye as he shifted to kiss you again. But before he could close the distance, you reached up, gently placing a hand against his chest to stop him. His brows knitted in slight confusion, but there was a playful gleam in your eyes that kept him from questioning it.

“Why don’t you put that mouth to work, huh?” you said, your tone challenging, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

A slow, delighted smile spread across Viktor’s face as he took in your words, clearly up for whatever you had in mind. “Is that a request?” he murmured, leaning in just a bit closer.

“More like a demand,” you replied, arching an eyebrow as you gave him a pointed look.

Viktor laughed softly, his gaze warm as he looked down at you. “Well, then,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Far be it from me to deny such a demand.”

#vampire au #fanfiction #arcane #vampire viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor lol #viktor arcane smut

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tonguetiedraven · 6 days ago

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Rin was wrong about the Kyoto arc and most of you are too

But like Rin, you don't have to hold onto your assumptions.

With the slight resurgence in aoex popularity, I'm seeing a new rise in some fundamental misunderstandings about the characters and plot. I've been asked a lot of questions about a few certain characters over the years, and I've noticed that the base of the misunderstandings people tend to have with everyone originates in the Kyoto Arc.

What am I calling the Kyoto arc? Everything that happens in the second season of the anime and everything that happens after chapter 13 in the manga . (The point when the anime said let's go off and do our own wild thing and forget about the story and characters Kato is making! It'll be fun and totally not still be causing long lasting chaos over a decade later) and up to chapter 35. It's a 20 chapter arc, roughly. And honestly I think most of the manga exclusive Kraken arc should be included in the Kyoto arc because it is a direct continuation of Rin and Yukio's story line there, but I digress and we will get to that!

I am going to assume that you, the reader of this lengthy essay (I'm wordy and won't apologize for it, lol), are aware enough of the manga and Blue Exorcist to know that every episode in the first season of the anime after episode 16 is NOT CANON and does a poor job of depicting all the characters involved from Angel to Yukio. (There is no character with a Z, lol. So Yukio wins that role.) No one comes out looking correct in that. I know some people will argue that Rin is fine, but no. He is not similar to his canon hot headed, impulsive, loud, often violent/aggressive, and past avoiding self who would never have let his twin pull a gun on Kuro and would never have let Yukio leave after that without a fight. Sorry guys, they nuked him too. Just in a more pathetic victim way so people let it slide because he obviously needs to be protected from all the other meanies.

I am also going to assume you know character names. You can google them if you get confused ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

Anyway, back on topic. I'm going to go heavily into the start of this arc and more broad as it goes on. The initial area is where most of the misconceptions start and they kind of carry through from then on meaning the entire rest of the arc and arcs there are a few flaws in the understanding of character motivations and reasons and some just basic plot stuff.

In chapter 13 of the manga, we get this tremendous clip

Just before this moment the exwires have found out that their classmate is not a human and is powerful.

You'll notice Shima leaning against the railing there. That's because he has a cracked rib and probably a concussion. Konekomaru is now sporting a broken arm, and Ryuuji got strangled out enough to be choking on blood. Shiemi was hypnotized and controlled and carried around like a possession by a demon king who tried to eat her eyes and kept taunting about making her his bride all while she was unable to move or do anything. There is not enough written about the truly terrifying kind of assault that is for the youngest member of their group, and that's without the tangle of a relationship Amaimon and Shiemi have in it.

It is vital that everyone take a second to think about that. Izumo and Takara were not there. They stayed in the camp. They didn't pursue Amaimon, Shiemi, or Rin. They chose not to fight or try to help. The Kyoto Trio did (because Ryuuji/Bon is impulsive and ran after Rin and Shiemi to help and the others followed him) and it took all of thirty seconds for the Demon King Amaimon to knock them all out without even really putting any effort into his attack.

They manage to get out of the forest and back to the pictured bridge with Yukio leading them out while the forest catches dramatically on blue fire. (Remember that the Kyoto trio grew up hearing about how much the blue flames of Satan destroyed their home and killed their family members. Their entire life was irrevocably changed because of blue flames.) And Rin and Amaimon are wildly fucking shit up. They even yeeted Mephisto who is a much higher ranking king.

All that leads to the Paladin appearing, Arthur Angel, who orders the exwires to be interrogated and checked by medics. (Honestly a step up for True Cross. They almost never remember medics.)

The Paladin appears and then Mephisto appears, and he has Rin in tow. Rin who is entirely feral and tries to lunge for the exwires. The traumatized exwires see Rin try and attack them with an entirely demonic face. They do not know anything about his story or Shirou or even ow he got here, but they can easily see that he's tied to Satan because of the flames and now he clearly wants to hurt. Hurt them.

Now in Rin's defense, he's not in his right mind. Mephisto sheaths the sword and the demonic part is forced to retreat and Rin passes out until he's slapped awake. At that point he's the Rin we know again (the exwires still have no idea what the hell is going on) and Angel takes him into custody. Rin looks over and sees his friends bloodied and bruised and sees Ryuuji with blood on his mouth staring with an unreadable expression.

It leads to this shot:

Question for the group: Who is Ryuuji asking this to?

Not Rin, that's for sure. It's Mephisto, in my opinion. Ryuuji is asking, quite understandably, why the hell the child of Satan was put in a class of ordinary students and why none of them were told about it. They just had a Demon King attack their class of exwires all of which were struggling against a simple moth and had to reseal it instead of exorcising it. A Demon King that attacked them because he wanted to do something to the son of Satan and they had no extra protection against that. Enough so that four of them are injured or traumatized.

(Also, if you get strangled do not yell and IMMEDIATELY seek medical help. There are a lot of terrible conditions and long lasting effects that can occur with strangulation.)

So at this point everyone is made to split ways. The exwires will get a small update from Yukio, and Rin will get put on trial for his life. Neither party knows what the other is aware of, and as far as we can tell, Rin does not remember that he tried very hard to lunge at and attack the exwires.

That does not mean that Rin did not lunge for and try to attack them. Not remembering trauma you caused someone else does not erase that trauma.

There is also this moment, and you best believe I am also here to defend Shiemi because she deserves it.

Go girl. You're so right. There's nothing funny about any of this. Not your abduction, not how assaulting that entire thing was, and not the fact that he was feral and that you're feeling like a lot of this is your fault. (And it was not her fault.)

Rin's defense in most bad situations is laughter and ignoring whatever the uncomfortable thing is. This rubs everyone around him the wrong way almost every time. And that's their right. I also truly think he doesn't know what he just did and doesn't remember much past drawing the sword and he's scared, and he's able to tell the vibes are bad and he's in trouble, but doesn't really get why/how. He is a bit (a lot) of an idiot and we love him for that.

Another vital thing to understand about Rin is that he sees the demonic and violent parts of himself as someone else. He is not that demon. He is not the guy that tore apart the forest, everyone is wrong. He didn't lunge after his friends, someone else did that. He isn't out of control of his flames, that isn't him. That demon with the flames and frightening strength and burning anger isn't him. They've got it all wrong. He's just Rin.

That is a big part of Rin's story. Rin accepting that he is all those things. He is the human and he is the demon and he is all the things that comes with both of those things. He is right and wrong and kind and cruel and caring and callous and gentle and dangerous. He is Yuri and Satan and Shirou's son, and he is complicated and trying his best and slowly learning to accept what he is and isn't.

Anyway, they split ways for a shitty night. Rin's is unquestionably shittier, but again, the rest of the exwires don't get told what the hell happened.

Anime only fans will already be noticing differences, but wait, there's a lot more that was missed/ skipped over.

The Kyoto trio are all at the hospital for the next few days and get a call about the temple having been attacked. Shima's dad and Ryuuji's dad were said to have been hurt in it.

This is the second hint we get that Ryuuji is not on good terms with his dad, and the mere mention of Kyoto visibly upsets him. That'll be important a little later.

Rin goes back to class with the girls but is pulled out by Yukio for his own individual classes with Shura before anyone can say anything. The cram teacher then explains the following:

The entirety of their school is giving them instructions on what to do if Rin goes wild because the exorcist and teachers all think he will go feral again.

Rin does not know they're getting this instruction.

We then see what Yukio told them is basically: Yeah, my twin has flames. I don't because I was too weak. I get tested daily for it. The koma (a nickname for Kurikara because you can't exactly go around calling a stolen sword by its name or people will catch on) sword sealed him. I don't know why we were allowed to live when True Cross has a very loud 'no Satan or Satan offspring allowed' policy. Kay, thanks, byyyeeeeee.

So no one is happy and no one really knows anything. Just Yukio who has always known everything and had the biggest emotional, responsible, and mental burden of everything about his brother. He was left holding the bag again. Responsible for a class he's the same age as, mourning his father whose death he doesn't know the full story of, responsible for killing his own brother if he goes feral, now ostracized even more by a community of exorcist he already didn't blend in with, and now made to bear all this. Yukio is a king for holding out for so damn many arcs without showing how bad his mental health was getting with all that stress.

At this point we see Ryuuji is placing the guilt for Konekomaru and Shima being injured on his own shoulders (Konekomaru tells him it was his fault that they were injured) and Shiemi is realizing that Rin became her friend as he was revealed and that she was never as much of a support or friend to either of them as she thought.

Meanwhile Izumo who, and I cannot stress this enough, did NOTHING in the fight and was not part of most of this and has at this point made NO effort to be friends with anyone past cleaning a shirt Rin loaned her, is judging all of them visibly.

A brief interlude of Toudou being a creep and Rin showing he cannot follow orders from absolutely anyone and making Yukio and Shura frustrated at how unpredictable and manageable he is, and we're now given the mission to go to Kyoto and help there.

Ryuuji is just so blatantly shocked and not okay with the assignment to his home. Like I genuinely don't think we have a shot of Ryuuji looking more shook and shit gets wild in this manga.

Ryuuji does not want to go back to Kyoto. He left on terrible terms with his parents and swore he would not return until he had his meisters and rank. He defied his parents in even going to the cram school and now he's being forced to return a bit busted up and long before he was ready. If you do not have a bad family dynamic, you can't really get how devastating this is, but try and imagine it. It's a tremendous source of stress and frustration for Ryuuji, and the main thing he's dealing with through this arc. He has a lot of history with his father ignoring and denying him and trying to control him, and it is not a healthy dynamic. THAT is what drives Ryuuji in this arc. Kyoto, the temple, and his father. It is NOT Rin. Rin is at the bottom of his list of things to be thinking about right now.

This is essentially Ryuuji's arc, and it is, quite simply, not about Rin for him. Rin becomes a part of it, but not until later. At the moment, it is Kyoto and the shame and frustration and resentment about that which is driving him forward.

Shiemi is melting under her own self loathing at this point. She is hating herself and has never been confident and always been prone to thinking poorly of herself, and shown she is unaware of when relationships are abusive with how severely Izumo bullied her and continues to bully her.

(And I could write another essay on how fucking misogynistic it is that everyone flocks to team Izumo when she's slightly nice to Rin and blatantly ignores the Shiemi abuse because well Shiemi is annoying anyway. Check yourself and ask why you feel that way if you do. Why is violence and cruelty okay against Shiemi? Why is it forgivable in her case but not in others?)

We all board a train to Kyoto and see each other for the first time. Rin has zero ability to ever read a room (we love him for it even if he will occasionally kill us with second hand embarrassment) and is acting like he didn't try to kill them on their last interaction and like everything is normal and there isn't a big and awkward elephant in the room taking up most of the train space.

THIS GOES DOWN DIFFERENTLY IN THE MANGA THAN THE ANIME. The manga stretches this scene out to give three characters very important breathing room while the anime cuts this far shorter and mixes up the dialogue some, muddying the motives.

Rin, not reading the room, sees Shiemi and calls out happily to her. Shiemi utterly freezes and can't decide how she should respond or what she should say. She has, as far as we know, never had a friend outside of her family and the twins. She doesn't know how to interact with them and she is drowning in guilt of failing them as a friend. A lot of that is because Rin said she wasn't his friend to the Kyoto Trio and because Izumo is always telling her she's failing as a friend and saying she doesn't like her. Izumo is a bully at this point. I will not back down on that point and will continue to reiterate it. You do her incredible arc a disservice to pretend otherwise.

That leads us to the confrontation:

Ryuuji does not show any sign of anger until Rin talks about Kyoto. Then it's instant grouchy face Grouchy face and grouchy boy until one of the other two interject and then he swallows all that Kyoto frustration right back down and stomps off to sit behind Rin with Konekomaru -- who has been given a talk by their superiors on what to do if their classmates loses his shit and goes feral on them and who lost his entire temple and family to the Blue Night -- voicing his worry about Rin losing control of his flames on a tiny train where there is no where to go.

Rin visibly deflates and sinks back on his chair Izumo, the drama queen who would deny being one, enters and sees. Now Izumo has conflicting reasons for her next act. She has been ostracized and bully quite a lot in her younger life, and that is part of why she is now an ice queen. She sees Rin and wants to help him feel better and is no more in the know of what the others are actually dealing with than Rin, and I dare say that was her first and primary motive.

However Izumo cannot allow herself to do something solely out of kindness to help someone. That is a weakness she will not allow herself and dangerous. Kindness and helping gets you hurt or killed by stronger parties and she has sworn off that in all cases but Paku. (No one quite knows what magic Noriko Paku possesses, but man does she, lol.)

So Izumo sits next to Rin and waits until after the debriefing about why they're here (meaning Ryuuji is now even more upset because yep, it's absolutely his temple and their miasma and their secrets and their weaknesses being discusses and revealed and flaunted) and they chat a little about the fact that lots of people have demon blood (*cough* FORESHADOWING *cough*) and then, after getting flustered about Rin complementing her and thanking her and getting buddy-buddy enough to use a nickname, she goes cruel and decisive and makes a pointed jab at Ryuuji, who takes it in stride for a moment, and then Shiemi, who visibly deflates thinking even less of herself and that Ryuuji does not take in stride.

Izumo did a kind thing in sitting with Rin, however, the others did not do a cruel thing by not sitting with him. They simply chose to give themselves a little space from a situation they were still struggling with. The cruelest one in the moment before she spoke was probably Konekomaru, and even he wasn't talking to Rin. He was nervous and scared and talking to his friends about Rin. None of them owed Rin anything. They did not owe him their time or space or attention. They are allowed to recover from their trauma and physical injuries while not having him constantly shove his over-excited puppy-energy self in their faces constantly and make everything all the more difficult for them while they try and reconcile that guy with the feral monster that wanted to take a chunk out of them and who was not in control of the flames they've grown up terrified of.

We see the story mainly through Rin's perspective, all the more so if you're an anime only, but that does not mean Rin is always an honest and reliable narrator. He is unaware he tried to hurt them and unaware of their own trauma. He can't imagine any of their actions and reactions aren't centering around him at this moment because Rin too is going through a lot of trauma and stress of his own that they don't know about.

What I find over and over again in this story is that people excuse any poor or selfish or cruel act of Rin's because of trauma and not being perfect, but they will not excuse it in any one else. This makes for a frustrating unfairness in expectations, and frankly, turns the story boring. If no one but Rin can make mistakes, or you choose only to see other's mistakes and not Rin's, you are robbing the characters and Rin of their complexity and growth.

Izumo was kind in sitting next to Rin, and she was purposefully cruel at the exact same time. This is who Izumo is. Kind and cruel for quite a long time. Brave and selfish. Confident and self conscious. Guarded while slowly falling in love and denying it every step of the way.

So the train ride immediately goes to shit and they get loud with Ryuuji calling her out (reminder, she can call them coward all day long but she did not leave the circle and didn't fight and has not stepped forward once in any of their missions to work as a group or fight until she had to)

And Shure (in the manga) wakes up and makes them sit in a different car of the train with bariyons on their laps as punishment. Konekomaru continues to stress, Ryuuji tells him to chill, Shiemi continues to hate herself, and Izumo continues to be purposefully cruel.

The bariyons get aggressive and one pins Shiemi to the ground. Rin does Rin and burns it without warning, freaking everyone out because wow! Blue flames are just suddenly everywhere. Ryuuji interferes because again, his temple was devastated by Blue flames and he has no reason to think they can behave differently and he is nothing if not determined to protect and help his team at all times.

Shiemi realizes Rin still has control of them and tells everyone to relax, and they do.

The flames are put out and Rin immediately attacks Ryuuji.

Rin demands trust and honestly, I could understand if he was unaware that he'd caused mayhem in the forest and tried to lunge for them, but if he was aware then he has to be smoking those flames of his because there is no reason to trust him at this point. He's lied (he didn't have a choice but they don't know that and reasons do not negate that a lie happened and we are now in the lies arc) and he has shown he is dangerous and that Demon Kings kind of follow him and will attack indiscriminatingly. (It's not like they know Amaimon is not allowed to kill them.)

Rin knows he won't hurt them and thinks that should be enough. No one else knows that they can believe this at this point. Ryuuji explains that Blue Flames have killed a lot of his people and that he can't trust someone who endanger his family. It is once again Kyoto he is thinking about and Kyoto he is worried about. They are on a train to Kyoto where Blue Flames destroyed a lot and now they're bringing the one guy with Blue Flames there and he keeps flaming up so it seems like what little he still has there is going to be devoured by flames.

Rin says basically, sorry that happened but it has NOTHING to do with me. This is a naïve thing to say and while technically right, is missing the point of what Ryuuji said. I can't trust you because you haven't shown me I can trust those deadly flames with you and they have absolutely devastated my home before.

The fight amps up more -- and again, Rin was the aggressor. They're both hot headed but he's the one that grabbed Ryuuji, not the other way around, and in a fairly close way to how Amaimon had grabbed Ryuuji and that can't be helping things. The fight gets louder and Konekomaru bravely intervenes and grabs both of their arms and tells them to stop. A bariyon choses that moment to cause chaos and try to kill Ryuuji and Shura has had enough and kills it but kindly doesn't kill the exwires for interrupting her nap twice over and the conversation is left entirely unresolved.

And for the next long stretch, they will not have that conversation resolved. They get back, Ryuuji is immediately accosted by his powerhouse of a mom, Torako Suguro who is pissed, and finds out that his dad has been absent and that things are going south fast in Kyoto.

From this moment on, Ryuuji will have one goal and that is to find his dad and save what few temple members he can. He wants to reunite his temple--that has always been his goal--and his dad's failure to lead and potential at being the traitor in their midst is causing what few of his sect are left to fracture even more. He is around Rin a few times in the next chapter, but his mind is never on Rin or their drama. He is wholly focused on Kyoto and the drama here.

This is where a lot of people misunderstand him. He is not avoiding Rin, he simply has a much bigger priority, as he should. This is his family and this temple is everything to him. We find out that Tatsuma has thrown their reputation in the mud and that he has caused a lot of their sect to abandon the temple, and that he has fought Ryuuji's hopes and goals every step of the way, and that he was the first to laugh at Ryuuji (which we know is an immensely traumatic memory for him) and that Tatsuma is actively working to avoid Ryuuji, and that he was at the Keep during the break in, and that several members of the Sect absolutely think Tatsuma is the traitor.

And if he isn't the traitor, then he is still failing them and running away from his duties. What's worse, we see a few of the sect (Mamushi specifically) even place some of the blame of the failure on Ryuuji.

Rin is seen working with the Kyoto trio on some kind of chore after they arrive, and actively being ignored and mistreated by the teachers. They absolutely deserve ire for the way they treat Rin like he's already gone feral and refuse to let him help.

Rin is being ostracized and thinks everything happening here is about him. He thinks the others are ignoring him and that they're upset about him. They're largely just... Not. Izumo and Shiemi are put on helping the large volume of patients and from what we see, Izumo doesn't chat with Rin again after the bus.

Shiemi sees this as a way to not let people down (she thinks she let everyone down in the forest. That it was her fault and she isn't good enough or strong enough or just enough to be their friends. Probably partly because the one friend she thinks she has is a bully.) and dives hard into work. She still doesn't know what to say to Rin and freezes up a lot.

That leads to a fantastic scene in chapter 18 with Izumo and Shiemi in the garden and Shiemi positively sobbing about being a useless friend and not being strong enough to help like she wants and Izumo telling her she's really strong and able to talk about friends and her emotions without getting embarrassed and that she's stubborn and strong as a weed and Shiemi, who has clearly not gotten enough praise in her life just glows and determines to be as strong and stubborn as a weed.

It's a vitally important moment for both these girls. Izumo is kind and doesn't turn it cruel and sees how strong Shiemi is and helps Shiemi see herself as strong too. Izumo has done a lot to break Shiemi down but she is also, arguably, the one that did the most to build her back up too.

She dives back into her work to the point she inspires Rin to try harder on his own training because he is lazy and she isn't, and he admires that.

At this point Shima has decided that to keep going on his own path in the laziest way he can manage that ignoring Rin was too much work so they're just going back to before and acting like nothing ever happened. Rin is drunk and insults him in this with the list.

Rin confronts Konekomaru later and finds out what happened to Konekomaru's family and Konekomaru begs Rin to leave Ryuuji alone because he is dealing with a lot of stress. Rin (correctly for once) realizes that Konekomaru will absolutely be his friend if he can show that his flames aren't a danger. If he puts in the work to get control of those, he can be friends. Rin goes off determined to do that.

Ryuuji and Shiemi are now the only two who haven't had their Rin moment, and they firmly busy in their own stuff. Rin still thinks they're avoiding him because they're mad at him and blaming him for the Blue Night stuff and they're simply not. At no point does he ever really seem to get that he's assuming stuff incorrectly about all this either.

Ryuuji does some not at all stealthy spying and follows Juuzou to the Keep to find most of the staff unconscious and gets himself in the middle of the theft of the Impure King's last eye. Mamushi betrays them to Toudou and states that it is because of Tatsuma that she is. That he has failed them as a leader and conspired with Mephisto by giving away the sacred relic of their temple (Kurikara) and letting the son of Satan have it.

She is not entirely wrong, and she is not entirely right. She is very wrong about Toudou, but they both escape to cause more havoc elsewhere and leave Ryuuji to finally catch up to Tatsuma.

We have been building for several chapters at this point that Ryuuji and Tatsuma do not have a great relationship. There is a lot of frustration and confusion and hurt in it. A lot of history and pain and Ryuuji is trying to get his dad to tell him anything. To deny the allegations if they're not true and do something to help with the fact that one of their members just left.

Tatsuma refuses to. We later learn why and it sucks, but it doesn't lesson the hurt in this moment. Being unable to explain something does not mean that your actions, justified or not, did not and do not hurt someone.

Ryuuji, seeing his dad turn his back on him without even a hint of an explanation to all the terrible accusations and all the pain and trauma around them, pleading for some kind of explanation to anything, plays the only card he has left.

His father has already all but disowned him for the cram school, so he returns that. He warns that if Tatsuma leaves now and like this, he might as well not bother to come back because Ryuuji will no longer (can no longer) consider him his father.

Rin, who has kind of snuck into this dramatic meeting, overhears this and has a violent trauma induced reaction.

Now, Rin has trauma and it is entirely understandable why hearing those words would make him react dramatically. That does not excuse the violence he reacts with. You enduring trauma and having triggers and painful emotions does not give you the right to inflict violence on someone else.

And inflict violence Rin very much does. Once again flaming up some too, not at all in control.

This was not Rin's fight to get in the middle of. I will die on the hill that others do not get to determine what a child can and cannot do in their own parent and child relationship. Others can offer opinions and advice, but they do not get to order or dictate the relationship. They are not part of it and cannot possibly know what it is actually like. This is the same sort of mentality that tells people who have had to make the immensely difficult choice to go no contact with a parent that they should try and make up because it's hard to be a parent like it's easy to be a child and under the parent's control and guidance. Ryuuji has a lot of reasons to have made that ultimatum, and while we will learn a lot more about why Tatsuma has failed as a parent and leader, the reason does not absolve or eliminate the failures. He has failed Ryuuji multiple times and at this moment, tied by a cruel fate, he has to fail and hurt him again.

He did not have to choose to do it this way though, and do not forget that.

And Rin knows nothing about their relationship. He is putting his own reactions and motivations on Ryuuji who does not have them.

Rin is in the wrong in this moment. I will not back down from that either. Rin hurt his friend and revealed himself, and in the next panels defied Shura and continued to try and fight Ryuuji and make him understand that you can't disown your father because you can't take that back--

And it is in this fight that Ryuuji is first made aware that when Rin talks about his dad, he has not been talking about Satan. Rin was raised by someone else. They still don't learn the real story yet, we're not really told when or if they do get the full story about Shirou, but you can see him realize something happened to whoever raised the twins, and it was bad.

Rin gets knocked out and arrested and Ryuuji is sent to ice his swollen face and he will have the injuries Rin inflicted on him here through the entire rest of the arc.

And I am now over 5k words so I'll try and wrap this up some. I'm going to have to post the Yukio half on another post xD

Rin gets a letter that tells him that Tatsuma and Shirou were in cahoots about the sword (look, Mamushi was partially correct) but that the sword did not have Karura in it like it was supposed to. He also finds out that Tatsuma wants him to kill the Impure King. Mephisto then shows up and locks him away giving him a death sentence. Yukio has to leave with that knowledge to try and stop the rising Impure King before he infects and kills all of Japan.

Tatsuma goes and shows that he had made a pact with Karura and that the Suguro line has always guarded the secret that the Impure King was kept sealed under the temple by Karura. That were he to be reunited with his eyes, he would rise again. Toudou wants to get Karura so he did all of this to get Tatsuma to reveal Karura.

Tatsuma is stabbed through the back of the throat and Karura mostly devoured, and the Impure King is rising and reforming and going to poison everyone.

Shura gives the letter to Ryuuji and Kurikara and offers the camouflage ponchos to go break Rin out if they want, and Ryuuji and Shiemi are the only two who do not hesitate for even a moment to go and rescue him.

The jail freezes them and gives nonviolent Shiemi a moment to shine. She confronts her own self doubts and goes to find Rin and coaxes him back out, showing she knows he won't be a danger to her by embracing him and his flames. She realizes that her fears and self loathing caused her to only think about her own emotions, and not how he was feeling (something Rin could also very much stand to do) and she immediately switches to comforting and encouraging him.

Rin busts the prison with style, Konekomaru says he's ready to be friends, Shima and Izumo state they're only here on Shura's orders, and

Rin still doesn't get it. He still has no idea what Ryuuji is dealing with or why he's upset about any of it. He has spent this entire arc trying to find his dad and trying to help the sect, and failing every step of the way. He has tried to help everyone around him in any way he can and show that he can be depended upon and trusted.

Rin has never opened up to any of them. Rin demands that they lean on him and listen to his advice and accept him entirely, and gives them nothing in return for that vulnerability and openness. He doesn't talk about his own life or emotions or thoughts. He keeps conversations light and easy and doesn't even tell them that he was raised by a guy that's now dead. He shoves himself in conversations and dynamics that don't concern him all the while demanding trust, and then will not let them in in return.

Ryuuji is seeing that so clearly now and it is hurting. How can you trust a guy who won't trust you back? How can you trust someone you thought was one thing who never showed you who they really are and still won't be open and real with you? Who has enough power at every moment to level half the world and is emotional and stupid and impulsive and won't be real with you?

Rin has been under a death sentence and told he had to keep his heritage a secret, but even outside of that, he really doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't open up to his friends like he expects them to open up to him. Neither brother is good at expressing themselves (and a lot of that is because they weren't raised to be that way. Shirou did his best but had a lot of limitations too.)

He demands they trust him wholeheartedly but will not trust them in return. Or he hasn't shown in any way that he does trust them.

This arc, at its core, is about lies and how those and trauma can and do make relationships messy. How even ancestral drama can go down the line and get us caught in cycles of it. But it also shows that we can do the work to get past them, and that it's messy and painful and loud and not always easy to see what's right and wrong while we do it, but we can get past it and move on together. We can make terrible mistakes and seek forgiveness and understanding and sympathy or empathy and try to do better. We can laugh in a field of disease and trust entirely on someone because we know we can even if the world is falling down around us and it doesn't make sense.

Neither Rin nor any of the exwires or Yukio are a villain in this arc. Even Mamushi and her cruel words and betrayal are not a villain in this arc. Everyone acts kindly and selfishly or in fright or confusion or in motives that are entirely misunderstood. They're all dragging their own emotional baggage with them and they're all getting tangled up and not listening, but they still strive on and strive to understand and talk it out when they can, because they care about each other and getting it right.

To act like it's as simple as "The exwires bullied Rin!" is naïve and robs Kato's story of so much richness and deprives the later arcs of so much character value she built starting here. Kato does a beautiful job of building all of her characters and giving them rich personalities and motivations and flaws and she shows us them through Rin sometimes, but she also gives them a lot of time without him at the forefront. She gives him flaws too, and a lot of wrongs, and that's why he's such a powerful and alive protagonist for our series.

You're free to dislike who you like and love who you like, but I do so encourage anyone who thinks the exwires were villains in this arc to really dive into the manga. Read through all the scenes and ask yourself why did Kato show that? Why is this character thinking that? Why did the character react that way? Kato gives us so much richness to dive into and to see so many people not do that and to take such quick and often incorrect or fragmented interpretations of the events is heart breaking and honestly robbing those people of a really good story.

Rin was wrong in assuming that everyone hated him and assuming that it was as simple as trust. He was wrong to try and force things and to try and force his own interpretations on others. It was only once he started to listen and hear what they themselves were saying that things got better. Now some of this is just the mess of the anime between season one and the start of season two, but a lot is just misinterpretation by the fandom. It can happen to anyone, but that does not mean it suddenly becomes factual because of that.

It's been at least six thousand words and I don't know if this came across as clearly as I wanted it to, but I hope it encourages those who haven't to dive in deeper. It's a rich arc with so many fascinating moving parts in it. I've barely brushed on Tatsuma, Juuzou, Mamushi, and Mephisto in this and their plots are all entirely interesting and add so much! Expect a Yukio and Izumo and possibly Shiemi follow up at some point, lol. Probably just as long though I'll try to be more concise.

If you read this far, thank you! You deserve to crash with the rest of the exwires in Toraya on a nice futon.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #ryuuji suguro #aoex #shiemi moriyama #izumo kamiki #kyoto arc #long post #essay post #raven rant #i could easily do another post this length on the second half of this arc #and a post on tatsuma himself #and five more on ryuuji #but i'm trying to keep myself at least a *little* contained xD

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cambion-companion · 1 year ago

Note

could I request for you to write an scenario in which Raphael does not die to Tav nor their party, but in an other similarly humiliating circumstances, and Tav when learning about this desperately goes to save Raphael from his father by bargaining with Mephistopheles? (hilariously in a very sad way, I assume this, is the only moment that Mephistopheles would ever "value" Raphael's life, but then again that is devils for you) and Raphael's confusion at the whole thing, someone taking a terrible bargain to save him, just… because they… like him…??? (bonus points, if Tav still has a crown to willingly give Raphael XD)

It's beat up Raphael hours huh? (also Korilla will be fine)

Hi there love. This turned from a drabble into a oneshot haha

Have fun running to Cania to pick up your wayfaring devil!

Raphael x reader (gn)

Korilla had come to you.

Broker and bruised, battered and bloody. Her long curly hair matted with mud and dried viscous.

“Help him.” Her first words, rasped from a throat raw from screams.

“Korilla!” You caught her weight as her knees buckled, lowering her gently to the ground. The Dwarven woman wasn’t your friend by any means, but she had been your ally. “Who needs my help?” You couldn’t fathom who she might be referring to.

Surely it wasn’t Raphael. It couldn’t possibly be the enigmatic, self-assured cambion.

Korilla’s answering rasp dispelled any doubt. “My master.”

A fog of shock settled over your mind, your hands loosening around Korilla’s shaking form. She whispered the truth into your ear, her bruised lips trailing her blood onto your clammy skin. With fading voice Korilla told of the attack, Raphael’s demise and his imminent doom.

“Portal. Diabolist. Cania.” Korilla’s breaths grew short as she fought valiantly once more against the oncoming black.

“Hold on, Korilla. You’re going to be okay.”

“Save him.” She said again, her eyes slowly glossing over as the life left her broken body.

You cursed. The warlock’s last actions had been to find you in a desperate hope you’d help Raphael before he was consumed by his father. His father who just so happened to be an archdevil. Mephistopheles.

“Little shit could’ve mentioned that.” You grimaced, lowering Korilla’s body to rest upon the cold earth.

You stood, pinching the bridge of your nose as your thoughts whirled and clashed. Not only had the attackers killed Raphael, but they had also looted his house, stealing the Orphic hammer and the only hope you’d had of defeating the Elder Brain.

“Damn it.” You returned to your companions with the news. “Looks like we’re taking a rescue party to hell.”

“Who’s the damsel in distress?” Astarion asked, tilting his head as his red eyes flickered over your blood-flecked form.

“Raphael.”

The plan was to use as much stealth as possible. The vaults of Mephisto had been broken into not long ago, according to Raphael, so it was possible. A direct confrontation with the archdevil himself was out of the question.

The diabolist in Baldur’s Gate took some convincing, but in the end you were able to push enough gold across the counter to seal the deal.

“Very well. Though I warn you, you’ll not return alive or with your souls intact.”

“Yes, yes.” You waved the woman off, her visage reminding you of Korilla. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.” Your eyes scanned the musky shop. Do you have anything that will locate a specific fiend?”

With a Locate Creature spell scroll ready in your bag you watched as the diabolist created for you a portal. Ice crystals immediately crusted on the edge of the black abyss, the wind coming from the portal nearly freezing your shoes to the floor.

“Quickly, and remember the disguises!” She ushered you and your party through, the frigid darkness enveloping you with a grim finality.

Through cold halls you’d snuck, invisible fingers cold as death scraping along your back and through your hair as you passed beneath torches of blue flame.

Time lost all meaning here. Your eyes began to play tricks on you. The only thing keeping your mind focused was the spell lighting the edge of your vision with a warm glow, growing brighter as you hurried to where Raphael was being held.

An age, or an hour had passed.

The wrought iron door, so cold to the touch it burned, swung noiselessly inward, admitting you to an octagonal shaped room. On the far wall you saw him, his form dark, chained by one wrist to the wall.

“Raphael.” You hissed, unexplainable relief flooding your frozen veins when his head moved in response.

Your companions waited by the open doorway, keeping watch from the shadows. You snuck as quickly as you could to where Raphael was restrained. His glowing eyes looking down upon you with consternation before recognition slowly dawned across his sharp features.

You held up a hand, silencing him as he opened his mouth. Movement could be heard from outside the prison room. You were running out of time.

“Can you get us out of here if I free you?” You hissed, still keenly aware of the nature of the devil.

Raphael nodded, his tail moving to and fro in agitation. Something about his vitality seemed to be missing, you had never imagined seeing him in such a state. It was unsettling.

The matter of removing the singular shackle proved to be more challenging than you’d thought. Astarion’s lockpicking skills proved futile.

“It’s a magical seal.” Raphael breathed, his voice low yet sharp with anger born of desperation. “Now’s not the time to play the fool.”

You gave him a severe look which he matched right back at you, his eyes sparking flame.

You raised a hand to the ice-covered metal, about to dispel the magic surrounding the lock. “You owe me a favor. A big one. I don’t know yet what I will ask of you, but you will deliver. Understood?”

Raphael’s gaze scorched you for a moment, it was clear he was furious with his current predicament. But he had no choice, and both of you knew it.

He nodded curtly.

You cast your spell.

Raphael’s wrist broke free with the sharp sound of metal splintering. His hand closed tight around your arm, the dungeons of Mephisto melted away as you and your companions were yanked unceremoniously back to the material plane.

At least, your companions were. Deposited non-gently upon the hard ground of your camp.

Raphael kept hold of you. Taking you back to the foyer of his house. The house which still lay in semi ruin from its previous sacking.

He was angry. Each step he took crackled fire and promise of swift vengeance.

“Raphael…” You said hesitantly, following him down into the dining hall. “Raphael, Korilla-”

“Is dead.” Under the glow of firelight, you could properly see the state he was in. You winced when he turned to face you. “I know. Though not as dead as those who dared pillage my home, the fools.”

“Do you know who?” You remained wary as you watched him conjure an armchair and sink down into it.

Raphael ignored your question, he issued orders in the abrasive Infernal tongue, seemingly into thin air. His fingers clicked and a spark of flame licked around them. Unseen servants began bustling around, clearing the debris and wreckage. Setting the House of Hope back in order.

Raphael leveled his gaze upon you. His expression was not unkind, it was calculating. He had underestimated you and overestimated himself. Not a mistake he’d make again.

“Why?” No flowery words, no ado.

“I still need the hammer.” You had the response prepared, having known the question was coming.

“You could have hunted down the thieves without my help.” Raphael narrowed his hellfire eyes. “Why come to my aid?”

“Korilla asked me to. It was her dying wish.” You fidgeted under his piercing presence. “Besides, you’re a useful ally. I still need your help to save the world.”

Raphael arched a brow, unconvinced. “Half-truths are still considered lies, dear. But there are matters I must attend to.” He stood, restless.

“Will your father come for you again once he realizes you’re gone.” The question came before you could stop yourself.

“Concerned for me?” Raphael appraised you, a knowing tilt to his head. “No. He will not.”

You didn’t argue, Raphael was clearly on edge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

You rubbed circles against your aching temple. “Well, seems we have some thieves to track down. A hammer to retrieve.”

Raphael looked as though he was biting back a sharp retort. He chewed on his words, looking you over. “Yes.” He growled, infernal fire flickering off his form. “You may watch as I peel their souls from the writhing mortal flesh.”

In an unexpected move, Raphael strode to you and took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. His breath hot on your still chilled skin. “You may even assist me, if you so desire.” He straightened.

That was as close to a “thank you” as you were going to get.

You set your jaw grimly. “When do we start?”

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #fanfic #oneshot #bg3 one shot #house of hope #au

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