#this is my wind down gift to me for writing today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

court-jobi · 3 months ago

Text

Goldeneye Down

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's characters/stories))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (quirkless!(gn)reader)

Words: 4.6K

Rating: T+ (canon-typical post-mission shenanigans, so it gets raw, kids.)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, description of injuries/blood, mentions of medical trauma, anxiety, so many tears, mutual pining, HURT/COMFORT, angst with a happy ending

Summary:

If a kiss would fix him, he'd sooner never breathe again. If you knew it would work, you'd surrender your lungs and anything else for his comfort. He hardly gets tender treatment after a fight- and that shows by how tightly he's hugging your waist for dear life. Alternatively: three times you've witnessed your dashing Hawks masking his hurt, until he can't anymore. Each time is worse than the last- until you finally learn that you're the only one who truly asks how he feels after nights like this. Not 'how are your wings' or 'is he stable'... but it's you who takes the time to wipe his face gently with a washcloth: not to rid Hawks of the sweat and grit to make him presentable, but gifting Keigo the chance to feel clean for once.

A/N: Yall, this man is one of my favorite characters on this show, and I have so many writing plans for him-- so apologies for starting right out the gate with angst??? I love him I swear

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

The first time you ever saw Hawks shirtless was hardly the stuff fantasies or a perfume advert concocted. He was bandaged across one entire pec, around his middle, and up to his shoulder, after all.

Work as a writer took you to many glamorous locations, but also to the grittiest– recently, hero hospitals when there’s been a close call and you are in for an interview with either a dying hero for their final public wish, or a heartfelt op-ed about a rising sidekick’s latest stand against threat and evil. In either case, you’d wound up at the bedside of a darling rescue agent who’d had an incredible story to share despite their career-ending injuries.

With a genuine word of thanks and a shared pudding packet, you were leaving the hospital wing in fairly good spirits until your stomach turned in shock at what awaited you in the hallway– a gravely bandaged Hawks standing at the nurse’s station in a half state of dress, locking eyes with you in the first instance where you’d ever caught him off his guard.

Those gorgeous eyes flashed in nervous panic which melted into boyish charm awfully quickly- standard practice for the secret object of your affections-

“Well gosh, nurse, I thought you’d give a guy a warning if a guardian angel was going to be visiting today… I’d have been decent enough to put a shirt on~!”

It was a detour of hoarse-voiced flirting on his part and masked heartbreak on yours. Seeing the blonde numbed out and paler than you’d ever witnessed him out on the job, your veil of professionalism slipped enough to really see Hawks in this moment… and catch wind of an unaware attendant who slipped the hero’s last name in front of you.

Said PA immediately recoiled upon seeing you -an extended member of the press- overhear the #2 Pro Hero’s legal name. Though at your insistence that you were here on business that didn’t concern him, Hawks visibly relaxed enough to give you his first name himself the moment the nurse left.

‘Mr. Takami is far too formal to come outta you; don’t even think about calling me that, dove.’

Keigo Takami truly was a man containing multitudes, but for all the tough talk about how ‘you should have seen the other guy’, you worried about that man you’ve seen now without his gold visor that night when you went home, and wondered if he was sleeping ok with his chest bound like that.

The next injury sighting took several months of continued text exchanges, private balcony sidebars, and continued endurance of Hawks’ public displays of blatant sweet talking for you to see him less than chipper again.

Your meeting with the HPSC Press Chair was running painfully long, but necessary given the content you were working on publishing for them as side work. It wasn’t doable for you to take on a full-time job with the Hero Commission, but in your philanthropic effort to unite the civilian world with those of high profile heroes, you took on these winded assignments with the promise of a pay bump… as well as a chance to see your darling flyboy. Not that they’d note or care about your budding affections for him. Thankfully, your tight lipped smiles at him were ironclad and his reputation as a charming star preceded him, even to his higher ups so the true feelings never fully sunk in so long as you were mindful.

Pulling a doubletake at your presence in the conference room from the glass windows led Hawks to hang a left inside to quip at you, fully interrupting your meeting despite the scowls he received from the suits lining the table.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise~ hey there, lovedove. Aren’t you pretty as a peach today?”

“Hey there, yourself,” you turned to acknowledge him politely, but pointedly fixed on his eye that laid nearly completely blackened and the cheek scraped to a raw red. “--aren’t you looking- purple.”

Hawks being sufficiently threatened to report elsewhere didn’t stop him from throwing you a dismissive wink and a smirk at your subtle worry,

“Oh this? Nah, it’ll fade. I could use the blush anyway~ it’ll save me a trip for photos tomorrow!”

That charming show of optimism wasn’t a surprise as you turned back to your grumpily apologetic managers, though you never did quite forget how Keigo stayed in the entryway soaking in even your curt ending of the conversation. He had to be practically ushered out by some fellow training officers for him to go on his merry way. Your inspection of him had been lightning quick, and you were nearly certain he was black and blue in more places than his face judging by how he sidestepped out the door.

Would he ever take his pain seriously? Under all that swagger, you certainly hoped so. Or else you hoped someone would make a fuss over him.

Hawks shows on your patio at 12:30 in the morning one day, knocking silly on your side door. It’s been weeks since you wrote another touching piece for the HPCS’s statement on civic protection, and too long since he’s taken a rooftop stroll with you. Hell, far too long that he's had you close. Keeping you at his side, tucked under his towering wing, shielding you from the night winds, peppering each other with soft-spoken words and some stolen kisses he swears mean more to him than a move ‘just for luck’.

Hawks knocks three times... huffing. He glanced towards the ground, tucking what's left of his wings further in with a wince. He knocks four more times, each more insistent than the last, but mindful of the noise. He even shushes himself in the delirium, canvassing your living room for signs of life.

Your oven light was still on, suggesting you hadn't gone through your full nighttime shutdown yet. That single light bulb in your kitchen appeared to double the more he stared, and tried to blink the unease away. Shit. He's really in no condition to fly. The sidewalk below your floor takes his attention again at the cry he hears. The sound is only cat this time, but still makes him oh-so nervous.

Hawks moans his impatience coupled by the searing pain, begging you to come notice him at the sliding glass. He drops his head damp with sweat to the window (intent to apologize for it later) and just bangs on the window like the desperate man he is.

"Please be up, please be up, please..."

When he opens his eyes briefly, he sees a shadow before him approaching. You'd flicked on more light in your living room and were jogging up to the window with shock brightening your features to total wakefulness. He's never been happier to see you so panicked.

Your confusion is palpable behind the door as you push the blind’s interior locking rod aside and flip up the lock, sliding it-- and Hawks-- along with you.

"Who-ooah!! Hawks??" You whisper-scream.

Stumbling aside, he grips his still bleeding hip and winces at what that move causes for his back. Eyes screwed shut, he can't even quite manage a suave, sweet greeting; he merely sighs your name as an answer to prayer.

You take in this poor, disheveled shell of a hero as he looks every bit like he's come from a dogfight. Not only were his wings sparse and bony from overuse, but his left wing was seizing up and stunted at a poor angle you knew wasn't natural.

oh my God, those poor wings… You collected him up with ready arms- gingerly guiding inside through the center of the patio, wary of bumping either's span of the door.

"carefulcarefulcareful–"

"eh, it’ll-- nnngh!!" Hawks doubled over-thankfully right into you- "I got'kicked in the back-- right under...ahhhh~ "

Not only that, but despite the blackness of his under armour and gloves, you noted now by movement and smell that he was bleeding elsewhere. Besides the hobble, he sports a busted cheekbone and lip– which he likely bit himself.

This was a hard state to see him in and truly frightened you by the blood loss alone. Worse than any other time you’d seen him after a mission by far.

Primal, parental instincts filled you and spilled out before you could stop yourself.

"Honey, we gotta get you to Dagoba General; it's closest--"

"I can't-" Hawks stopped you with a vice grip on your wrist while he hobbled along, "s'too public."

-Not allowed, even in an emergency. This you remembered from his earlier run through of policies about heroes needing medical attention; where in the city he could go, how it should be handled privately, and out of civilian's eyes.

"oh shit-- well, how bout the hero hospital, the one by that high school? Can't you call- or I can call! Let me-"

"No~" hawks moaned miserably. "I jus' gotta sit."

“Aren’t you -uh- supposed to have your legs up? You can lay back, it’s ok,” you try to guide him, but he only wavers- set on sitting up. His still-sure sights canvassing the room tells you he’s in a protective, alert headspace here in new surroundings. He might need more direction from you to break this..

"Hawks-- this is beyond what I can do,” You tried to reason with him, grappling a random throw blanket semi draped on the couch before he could sit down. “I told you I worked in refugee centers, I only know basic first aid- but this is more than I can help you, honey! They can get you fluids, a transfusion if you need it, pain meds stronger than what I have from the corner store if you’d just- where's your phone, I can call for an ambulan-"

Hawks fired up right away-

"NO!!" He begged, "no- they, they can't.. I don't wan'.."

Helping him sit, you knelt carefully trying to hear through his clear pain-rattled rant.

You assume he doesn't want the trouble of an ambulance or worry it wouldn't get here in time- which scares you more is debatable.

"We’re working against time here, hot stuff.." you tried for levity, caressing his hand. While he took it shakily, he bit his groan back.

He looked at you seriously, but pouted back in a way you'd normally giggle at, "No 'wee-woos'."

"I know you don't want ‘wee-woos’, but I think we're past that now."

You cup Hawks’ cheek which successfully transfixes his attention right on your face, while you blindly try his jacket's inner pocket for his phone- closer than yours that’s clear in the back bedroom on your charger,

"Look, I'll even talk for ya, okay? You don’t have to explain a thing about what happened tonight. Let's just get you help-"

"NO!! I can't hav' 'em find you here!"

His outburst startled you so you pulled back from his jacket entirely- at a true loss, "Can’t have who find me?"

"I won' let 'em," Hawks shook his head, pressing into his side, "I-- they don' know I'm here- they can' see only the pinpoint. Not ell'vation. Ahh. Don't wan'em know.. where you live, f’they don’ already."

You fought to keep up. He's clearly distressed- but you're surprised it's by the thought over your residence being found out. Who would be upset at the fact of him being here enough to have him shaken from even emergency services finding out?

Then you realize, he’s on the clock. He’s gotten hurt at work, and he’s not patrolling anymore. ‘The asset is damaged,’ and he’s laying low effectively out of sight.

"Your.. what, your bosses? Is that what you're worried about right now?"

Hawks was fighting for some deeper breaths. Some old instincts finally kicking in, he’s pushing air out forcefully though his lips in a decent try to slow himself down. He knows you know that much– how his work is essentially divvied into two piles: the stuff you hear about on the news, and the stuff you don't. The HPSC handles both, but primarily involves him in one. Thankfully, he knows you're quick enough to know tonight is a night of the latter and one that you know you shouldn't ask too much more of, despite your clear desire for understanding.

But he’s bleeding on your sofa and he is about to damn near break or bleed out and you feel drawn to his heart and feel a selfish urge to know.

"I don't understand- why, ... why come here if you were worried, Kei?"

"I was.. close,” he offered with some huffs again.

That answer felt too loaded, but you were too groggy yourself to reason with such a clammy man dealing with who knows how much blood loss.

He forced as much clarity to his vision as he could, while watching you get up to close the patio door up. You shut the blinds for good measure too before debating whether to run back to the bathroom and grab what gauze and antiseptics you had. For both the sake of time and to keep the poor man from following you throughout the apartment like you knew he’d try to do, you settled on wetting a few washcloths by the sink and came back to him.

"Your fight was close to here?" You kept him in the moment while attempting to get off his coat. He sat forward to help in this, but his eyes shut hard as it forced his shoulder blades together, to feed the gap over the wings.

Through steeled grunts he manages it, then strangles out the basics for you, "Y-yeah.. small.. weap'n traffic ring. But we had intel they'd.. Had a hit out on’the magistrate."

You set the bloodied jacket to the ground- torn between looking at his pained face and getting a look at the hip he was leaning into.

"They hadda few tough quirk users," Hawks gritted, separating his hand at your insistence. The shirt peeling back sticky was the least of his worries when you laid the wet washcloth at his side, "one had blades for legs, n’the other had a kind of whip-AHH!!"

Only water, but it burned like hell. Burned through the mess he'd made of himself. Proof he'd been sent in there outmatched-- 5 to 1 so he says, but even for the #2 Hero, the odds were stacked against him for a covert attack. You whispered a gentle apology over the sting.

You hated hearing the challenge and clear surprise of the incident that caused this version of your hero to be brought to the surface, knocking on your door like a kid trying to sneak back into the house in the middle of the night.

"So they nicked you here– and your back?" You asked gently, "Anywhere else?"

"They were gonna take out the block--"

You heard the panic rise in him again, the tremor in voice and wings.

"Haw-.. Keigo."

"They were gonna-- they didn't even know you lived up here.. you of all people.. but they were gonna do it. I had- said I hadta stop em, whatever it took.."

You set the first soiled cloth aside, centered between his spread knees, and cupped his face in both hands now. He's trembling all over and pulse is going wild under your fingers. He locked onto your necklace- avoiding your eyes in anger, guilt, and a messy, gnarled ball of exhaustion while you cleaned his face.

It wasn’t clinically necessary, but you wanted to.

"But you stopped them," you reminded, "You said you got 'em, right?"

Something flitted across his face that looked hollow- like a younger side of Keigo Takami was looking for help finishing his thoughts. Like he was reverting to a shadow self that was about to cry just feeling you cool down his neck with the clean side of a washcloth.

"I got em." He barely whispered, new frustrated tears flooding his eyes and forcing his brows together. "I did it. I did-- what they wanted me to."

The way he says it is not a victory. It's guilty, not even proud in a sense of justice. It was forced; not unlike a militant following orders.

"The safety commission, keeping folks safe at all costs," you answered for him, forcing his eyes to blink at the name. What crimson feather remained ebbed and rustled on impulse.

Suddenly, he frowned down at his own hands, suddenly wrenching himself free of his damp, tainted gloves, like they were burning him alive the longer they stayed on his fingers.

"Cost them," Hawks croaked, "Wanted t’take ‘em in, make them pay the way we always do. But then they said they're taking the block out- and I couldn't let em- I couldn't let them get you or anyone else--I shoulda felt like a damn hero they say I am."

Hawks shook his head pathetically, nearly collapsing forward at the feel of you raking his bangs back, before he sobbed,

"but I didn't want to. They begged. Couldn’a run when they knew they couldn't win, so they begged. I don't wanna do it this way, don't want it to come to this. I can't keep ending it all just because I can!! I’m no–"

Hawks wipes harshly at his eyes with the heel of his palm, his anger at a tipping point.

Your heart sobers and breaks altogether. He's confessing to you because he knows this whole ordeal is going to be painted so differently by the media in the morning. Heroes have to make impossible calls- and you know his handlers don't make it easier on him when it comes to completing these covert assignments. They’ve essentially given him a license none others do- allowances that dance in the world of grey.

Hawks and heroes like him have been granted permission to take lethal measures. But it’s a grim, fell thought that when you’re in the moment- the choice to kill or stay in your armed hands. The pressure is bound to weigh anyone, make them crack and doubt their sensibilities.

Any bystander would call Hawks heroic for saving more lives than taking them- but fear is what forces him to kill. Fear of loss, of the catastrophic unknown that he continues to fight for faster and faster.

You leveled with Hawks’ sightline, forcing terrified eyes to yours. While the sight of this confident man worn down grieved you, schooling your face and brows to be strong was an easy ask when he needed you.

"I know you didn't,” you affirmed all he said, “You were so brave, Keigo. You were really brave, no matter what. No matter how these fights end. You always are brave."

Keigo listens and heaves an ungodly sound at your words.

Suddenly, he's pulling you close and crying into your chest and you meet him all the way. You lock your grasp around his shoulders gingerly at first afraid to hold too tight. Cradling his head to you and hushing him seems to work for now, since he’s able to speak again after more schooled breaths.

But this reaction from him is far from assured; he’s afraid. Unheard. And it seems with you, he can finally air these harsh truths without outside ears listening in stopping his tongue.

"They don't care how hard it is. They don't care. They just push and push and push me, and 'm tired and it hurts!!"

All you can do is hold him.

"I know, baby,” you barely speak, “I know it does, I know it hurts..."

“It always hurts,” he sobs, “It does every time. When you saw me and you looked at me, and you asked me if it hurt, I lied because I had to. But shit, this hurts…”

Hawks’ heated hands grasp at you: the contour of your body is the altar he's kneeling at- from this very spot of your couch. He's wailing now- half in pain, half in misery of being failed over and over again and only now -in secret- ever receiving someone to listen in return. The sound barely makes noise as its buried in your middle, but it rocks you where you kneel up straight to keep him close.

You let him grieve and hold space for every bit of it. He's never once been this vulnerable with another soul in his life, you’re convinced, and he sounds just so grateful to have your hands on his. Grounding. Giving him relief he's been starving for since you first paid attention to him across that crime scene where you first met.

Once he began mimicking your pronounced breathing he finally starts to feel more calm.

To give him air, you robbed one hand from around him in order to push back some hair from his face and check his temperature. He could actually feel how cool your hands were once he started getting color into his face from his spot at your chest. Drained and pliant, he mumbles something at your sternum, and you ask him to repeat it gently,

“Hands’re cold,” he whispers.

“Oh, m’sorry.”

“No,” he shuts his eyes. "Feels good. You feel so good. The other docs, they're just so-- clinical.. They don't- they aren't gentle. No one feels as good as you do.”

Softness seeps from the very pit of you. What you won’t give to protect this hero now.

You see a slumped pillow at his side and think to use it as a bolster until his back spasms lessen.

"Here, babe. Let's get one of these behind you. You can lay back a bit-"

Hawks chips his chin up to you, a bat of his eyes pleading, ‘don’t go’.

It’s official: you love him.

"I won't go,” you coo down to him, “I won't make you get up. I'll be here. Right here."

You kiss that hot, flushed forehead, and he wants to crumble again by the way you hear him swallow.

“I-” Hawks tries to recover from his overwhelm, "...I need you..."

Your answer would never deny him, "What do you need, pretty bird."

"Need you– hold on t'me." Hawks nuzzles your neck in relief.

"I've got you. I've got you this time. You always have everyone else; now I have you."

This is the way you’d keep him, if he were all yours. After a day of things he’d rather forget, you’d replace them all with kind words and soothing touches that settle his restlessness. To his nature that never stops moving, you’d make it your mission to bring some stillness and comfort to the forefront of his burdened mind.

While you’d love for reality to keep on pause, a flash of movement at the window gave you hope rather than alarm,

“Hey, Kei. Lookie there. You've got a little pile waiting for you~” you nod back to the patio, catching some blips of red near the unobscured vertical blinds. “Would having them back on you help? Make you feel more steady?"

Interest piqued, Hawks sounds pleasantly surprised seeing them with his own eyes.

"Ah. Yeah."

"Wanna rinse off, too? You can; use my shower, get yourself a lil more fresh?” the offer is true and comes from you easily. Happy to offer whatever healing measures possible to him while you wipe away leftover tears from a set of perfectly golden eyes. “I can’t promise I have something that fits you super well, but let’s see what I got.”

You knew the hot water would likely sting his wound, but would also buy him more time before he's ready to fly again and go get checked out more formally.

Still wilty, Hawks gives a comical grimace in the face. “I’d sure hate t’bleed all over your stuff.”

“Stuff can be washed; there’s only one you.”

And at this, he finally looks back up to you like the Keigo you know and sinks at the idea, giving in to the tempting idea. He nods. Any trace of boiled over bitterness in his aura has faded to a low simmer, and has left a warm, comfortable, gorgeous-looking man to peer up at you.

You help him up, open the door once more, and Hawks is able to stand a bit better on his own now with a wingspan full of settling feathers preening themselves into place. Once face to face, he finds his hands are still seeking out your waist, and his face furrows– unwilling to let go fully of his personal painkiller.

You still his hesitation with a mouth’s warm press to his cheek followed by a gentle kiss on the lips. His palms go lax and a moan leaves him softly.

“I'll hold you all you want when you get out,” you whisper gently to him. “No funny business, I promise. Yeah?"

As if he held any true worries.

"Wouldn’t ever mind if you did, dove. But yeah– I’d like that."

With another lingering kiss, you do your utmost to take things as quickly as he can manage for the sake of getting him to rest quickly… but by the way Hawks eyes you from all your puttering about the apartment, he holds no urgency or rush. To the contrary, he's happy going slow and steady while he’s with you.

His hand catches yours any chance he gets until he’s ultimately able to lay his head to rest on you at the first idle moment of the evening. Its in these, the wee morning hours, that he’s eager now to remember this as the first night you got to help him heal and not just recover.

"You sure you aren't rushing it?" the slight worry tinges your sleepy morning voice in just the next few waking hours. All you both had was a glorified nap given his late arrival.

The song of your concern obviously pleases your loving company, as the edges of Hawks’ eyes crinkle at your worry.

"I gotta report in by six. I'll stop at my place, change before I go in, heat up something to eat. And I’ll text you when I get there."

The checklist of answers is sweet and characteristically Hawks, but you hope Keigo hasn’t checked out of your bubble yet.

"Okay. But.. take some time if you can. Come see me if you still need me."

A noticeable fondness settles across Hawks’ devilishly handsome smile, and comes over to cup your face for another coffee-masked kiss.

"I always need you.” Thank you. For everything. "I'll see you soon." I love you.

"See you soon." I love you too.

Weeks pass with Hawks’ semi-regular visits to the apartment, holding you in the kitchen like the lovesick boy he is at heart. ‘Talking work’ he claims, when his higher ups ask him about the delays, but he’s more inclined to slack and slip into far more personal matters as he guides you over back towards the barstools and sits back on one.

A curious mind makes you question why he's pushing the limits of his absence until he pulls you in to completely become flush with him and realize he wants your attention before anyone else’s. He sinks in how you set your hands on his shoulders, smiling like a sweet dope, looking up at you while you check him over.

You know he’s tired from a day on patrol in full sun, but the faint sunburn across his cheeks doesn’t seem altogether too painful. Just needs a decent aloe blend. Still, you ask as you always do,

“How you feelin’, pretty bird?”

And he truly answers honestly now, no bravado for handlers to scoff at or bystanders to placate:

“Better now.”

#keigo takami #hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha

224 notes · View notes

gamergirl-niffler · 7 months ago

Text

A Bitter-sweet Birthday || Kyojuro x reader

Happy Birthday to my one and only Flame Hashira - Kyojuro! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

I miss the series, but mostly I miss him. Since it's his birthday, I decided to write something short.

Tags: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @arthurbristow

ENJOY:

The day was sunny and calm with no clouds in the beautiful blue sky.

You woke up early and immediately started to get ready in the quiet privacy of your own room. The day was very important since it was your beloved's birthday today, and you were beaming with excitement and happiness.

The kimono you decided to wear was simple yet pretty. It was plain white fabric with a fiery pattern at the edges, and with fitting red obi and golden obijime. You looked like the real Rengoku, just without flame-like hair.

You were working on pinning your hair up when your door slid open.

Senjuro looked inside and smiled, seeing you in front of the little vanity table. "You are up early. I should have expected that you would be excited to celebrate. Do you need help?" He asked with his soft voice.

You nodded your head. "Yes, please. You are much better at this."

Boy laughed and soon joined you, easily pining your hair up in a simple hairstyle that suited the occasion.

"Oh! Can you put it in?” You asked, handing him a gold hairpin.

Senjuro nodded and fulfilled your request. "My brother did his best picking this for you."

"Yes, I know. Best gift ever," you chuckled and looked into the mirror, admiring Senjuro's work. "Thank you so much."

"No problem. Will you help me a little too? I need some help with cooking,” he asked, and you of course nodded before getting up and following him to the kitchen.

There, you pulled your sleeves up and helped him with preparing miso soup with sweet potatoes and some simple sweets. After all it was a day to celebrate, and what celebration would it be without real sweets!

"You think we have everything?” you asked.

Senjuro shook his head. "I couldn't buy the last thing from our list," he said, looking down.

You just gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair. "No need to worry, we can buy it on our way to him.”

"There will be no need for that. Here.” It was no one else but Shinjuro.

At first his sudden, loud voice made you stiff, but then you realized he was handing you a box with the last thing from the list. Blinking, you looked up at him, not hiding your confusion.

"Just take those to him. I bought them this morning after seeing them on Senjuro's list. I figured out you will need these," man explained.

You smiled widely and bowed. "Thank you so much, Shinjuro-san. We indeed needed those."

"Thank you, father, he will be happy to receive these," Senjuro added with a kind smile.

Shinjuro looked at both of you as if he wanted to add something, but he decided to stay quiet instead. He just turned away and left.

The two of you returned to cooking and chatting, sharing some giggles while doing so.

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

When the food was ready, Senjuro packed it up, you collected other stuff you planned to take, and you both set off on the road.

It wasn't a long trip but going with a friend was an amazing feeling.

The closer you got, the more excited you became. You couldn't wait to celebrate Kyojuro's birthday.

The burial ground seemed quiet and calm, as if it was frozen in time together with everyone else, buried deep in its grounds.

All you could hear were birds singing softly, their songs carried by a quiet whisper of the wind that sneaked around the crowns of trees and soft splash of a river nearby. The sun's gentle warmth enveloped the serene atmosphere, casting a comforting glow on the world.

"Aniki," Senjuro said happily and ran up to one of the graves, setting everything down next to it.

You quickly followed him and smiled looking at the grave. "Good to see you again, love."

After the quick greeting, you and Senjuro got to work, cleaning the grave. You made sure to visit Kyojuro regularly so there was a small amount of cleaning needed.

In the end, you pulled out the box that Shinjuro gave you and pulled out incense sticks. You lit them up and placed them on the grave.

You and Senjuro clasped your hands together, preparing for the prayer ahead with a sense of unity and reverence.

Senjuro finished first, and started putting down a little blanket. You joined him shortly after, and helped him with setting everything up.

"Aniki. Everything's good at home, father has stopped drinking, and things are much calmer there now. He even accepted Y/N around," Senjuro said, even if his words were greeted by nothing but silence.

"That's true, but I still try to do my best to stay out of his way. Today he bought us incense sticks for you, love," you smiled softly.

Senjuro nodded and picked up his little bowl of soup. "Happy birthday, aniki. I wish you were still here. I miss having you around.”

You smiled sadly, doing the same as he did. "Happy birthday, my love. I miss you dearly."

The rest of the celebration went calmly.

You talked and joked with Kyojuro, telling him everything that happened since the last visit.

If you only knew he was there indeed, sitting next to his own grave, listening to both of you and feeling happy, hoping the warm sun rays would convey how glad he was to celebrate his birthday with his little brother and the love of his life.

#demon slayer #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #kny rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x y/n #kny kyojuro

176 notes · View notes

da-rulah · 1 year ago

Note

Omg I love your writing! Could I request how each of the ghouls would react to an S/O who gets flustered easily? Maybe the s/o is like a sibling of sin?? Idk, whatever you decide :)

Howdy-doody! I'll keep this one gender neutral my dear, but reader is a sibling of sin and in an established relationship with the pairings (all at once or not, that's up to you... 😂)

Gonna stick to the Ghouls today, but if you'd like the Ghoulettes let me know and I'll try and figure something out for them!

NSFW 18+ content so MDNI!

(Thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for helping me out with this one. The brain fog was real, but your help has cleared it!)

Sodo

He's thinks you are adorable.

He likes to mess with you by doing out-of-pocket cute things for you, things no one ever expected Sodo to be the type of partner to do.

He comes home to you with flowers, thoughtful gifts, snacks. He loves to see your cute little reactions to them.

You always get a bit shy about it, even you don't ever expect Sodo to shower you in these little gestures. He always seemed like the grumpy Ghoul, the one who'd hiss at someone for breathing too loud near him.

You were his weakness though, as much as he was yours.

He feels a protectiveness over you that he can't explain, and has since the day he met you.

His favourite thing to fluster you is pulling you into his lap when you're in public or with other people. When his arms wrap around you you usually squeak, and he holds you tightly against him possessively.

And no, it's not his favourite thing to feel you wriggling against him while he holds onto you at all. How dare you suggest such a thing.

Rain

Rain is a soft soul too, and so when you get flustered? He gets flustered.

It doesn't take much to fluster you, but he loves how adorable you are.

Like Sodo, he brings you gifts that soften you up. Your favourite is a teddy bear he bought you with it's own Ghoul mask he'd doused in his cologne for when he was away on tour.

When he'd come home from tour, you'd made the bear it's own little bass guitar - oh, how his heart had swelled at that.

Quite often you'll find yourself in a giggle-off. He usually starts it, making you giggle. But your giggle makes him giggle. And his giggle makes you giggle. And your giggle makes him giggle. And his giggle makes you gigg-

The only way to break out of the loop is to silence you with a kiss - one that'll knock the wind right out of you and have you blushing and clawing at him for more every time.

Mountain

Oh my Lucifer, he likes to tease you.

Mostly teases you because of your size. But it wouldn't matter if you were tall or tiny, you'd still be dwarfed by him and he only does it because it makes you so flushed.

If he teases you around others, it's innocent and playful. A poke to your ribs during Mass or a light shove into a bush as you walk down the sidewalk. Sure, it flusters you, but he thinks it's hilarious watching you compose yourself.

Most of the teasing happens behind closed doors, because he can really go for it then. He knows how much he can get away with in public before you get too flustered and it does more harm than good, but at home? He can wind you up as much as he likes.

He likes the little tantrums he can induce by teasing you - it gives him an excuse to coddle you and be sickeningly sweet to win you back over. Not that it ever takes much...

The worst case scenario is he has to go the extra mile to win you back over, but... that's not really a worst case scenario for either of you. He loves to please...

Swiss

Total shitbag.

This man thrives on flustering you in public. Anything he can do, usually of a sexual nature too.

You'd taken him shopping one time and he'd very loudly asked for your opinion on a lace babydoll and asked if you'd like to see him in it. He'd revelled in the blush on your cheeks all day long.

He pays attention to details that fluster you, like when he rolls his shirt sleeves up as he plays guitar, or when he boops you on the nose with a wink in front of other people.

The worst thing he ever did was embarrass you in front of Papa, when he'd very loudly told you he would see you after band practise was over and he would 'bring the whipped cream this time'.

Phantom

Also a shitbag. But he's sneakier about it.

This fucker looks through your tiktok fyp, your search histories, your conversations with your best friends to find out what makes you tick.

The worst had been when he'd seen you liking videos of men in corset waistcoats. He'd gone out and bought one, wearing it under his jacket to dinner with you and your friends.

He'd basked in the glory of flustering you - and your friends who you'd talked about the videos with - when he took his jacket off at the table.

He'd also found out about your involvement in booktok and the exact romance novels you had read from your storygraph profile and began roleplaying the scenes to rile you up.

The first time he'd pushed you up against a wall, you'd squeaked and cowered under him. He loved that. Now, he'd do anything to hear that squeak again.

He finds it hilarious, and it usually ends in a long night for the both of you culminating in absolute bliss and loving embraces.

369 notes · View notes

imgeekgirlfan · 4 months ago

Text

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : II]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings: Qimir x f!reader(SEAsians Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: your mother always reminded you, "You will never hate the desert. Your blood is the desert. The desert is your home and your tomb." but You hope desperately that your life will be different.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Previously, I changed the story from a reader-insert to an OC due to backlash for specifying that the reader is SEA. I didn't enjoy writing it and nearly deleted it. However, support from AO3 readers encouraged me to stay true to my original style and affirmed that specifying the reader's ethnicity is not wrong (especially since Manny is also SEA). I’ll stick with the reader-insert style. If you don’t like that the reader is SEA, feel free to find other fics.

Also, today is my birthday. so I decided to give a gift to others by releasing a new chapter of my fanfic. I hope you like it.

➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread

[Episodes 2] You will never hate the desert. Your blood is the desert. The desert is your home and your tomb

You realize how quickly your life has changed, as your feet tread on the wet sand of Pabu, a small planet far from your birthplace.

Tatooine—where you were born and raised, is almost at the edge of the galaxy. There's nothing pleasant to see except for vast stretches of dry sand. The air is scorching hot because there are two suns in the sky. The cities are teeming with thieves, thugs, and smugglers. You hate your home planet so much, but your mother always reminded you, "You will never hate the desert. Your blood is the desert. The desert is your home and your tomb."

You know that the desert your mother spoke of isn't Tatooine, but another similar planet. An ancient world that disappeared from galactic records along with the death of your ancestors.

It's funny how your family's fate has always been the same: born in the desert and dying in the desert.

You hope desperately that your life will be different.

"Stop daydreaming; we still have a lot of work to do."

Qimir's voice comes from behind. His elbow gently nudges your arm, urging you to hurry off the beach. You turn and glare at him in annoyance, but obediently comply. You lift the cargo box to your side and turn onto the old stone-paved road, the only path leading to the upper town, the main trading hub of this island.

After reluctantly living together for more than two years, you've finally been given an additional role beyond being a prisoner. You're now Qimir's temporary assistant, helping him transport contraband to sell on small planets outside the watchful eyes of the Empire's law enforcers.

Qimir is tall with long legs. It only takes him a few strides to reach your side. "Haven't you ever seen the sea before?" the man asks, noticing that you keep turning to look at the blue ocean.

You nod. The faint, fresh, salty smell of the sea and the strong wind blowing across your face make you feel better than usual. "I grew up on Tatooine. There's only desert there. I've never seen this much water before."

You fall silent, suddenly realizing you've said too much.

No matter what, you always stay cautious. You try to speak as little as possible when you're near this man. But Qimir is the opposite—he talks incessantly, which is annoying. The more you show your irritation, the more he keeps talking. It's obvious he's deliberately trying to provoke you.

And this time is no different. Once he notices you're avoiding further conversation, he takes over, telling you about Pabu and other planets without you asking. You want to pretend not to listen, but deep down, you can't help but be interested. You've never had the chance to travel or learn about life on other planets, having spent most of your time after your mother's death quietly hiding. Until you met Qimir,. He's traveled everywhere, and he seems to know everything. Many things sound nonsensical, but many are too interesting to ignore. Like the story of Mon Cala, a planet that's entirely ocean, with a grand capital city standing tall underwater, and most of its population looking like fish. Or the fact that black holes aren't empty as many believe, but home to strange and dangerous creatures. However, they remain an unsolvable mystery because no one who has gotten close to a black hole has ever survived to tell the tale.

"I’d love to see fish people," you mutter to yourself, but Qimir’s keen ears catch it.

There's an inexplicable sadness in those words, he thinks as he turns to look at your profile, half-hidden by hair blowing in the sea breeze. "If our ship passes by there, I might take you to see them," he says, his words unexpectedly gentle.

You press your lips tightly, not responding. Perhaps you would feel a bit more appreciative if you didn't already know that what he said would never happen.

You've seen it in your dreams. Prophetic dreams foretell the future. In about four months, Qimir will have to deliver his last expensive cargo—which is you—to his client.

But beyond that... a shadow of doom completely obscured the future. You don't even know what this dream means. It's too dark to see, too terrifying, and too mysterious to understand. But one thing you're sure of, that day will be a day of death. And the clearest path is your own demise.

You frown. For a moment, you suddenly feel something—not in the form of a vision, but a deep premonition hiding beneath your consciousness.

A revelation is approaching.

But you are at a loss to determine what it could be.

Due to Pabu's highly liberal political policies, the city's population includes many immigrants from other planets, most of whom are often outlaws. This means an increase in the number of thieves and robbers, and consequently, a higher chance of being ambushed.

No place in the city was entirely safe, so Qimir decided to set up camp outside the city instead. He called it a vacation home, even though nothing about it resembles a house In reality, it's a large cave on a seaside cliff, which had been modified to resemble a living space. It's somewhat odd and out of place, but it has everything a typical home would have, all neatly organized. There are beds and desks carved from the gray stone of the cave, a small kitchen adjacent to the pantry, and even an old cleaning droid on duty.

For you, this place is much quieter than the city. There aren’t even small animals around, let alone people passing by. It’s an ideal spot for meditation or perhaps trying to use your visions again to find a way to escape.

Of course, you haven't given up on your original intention. You’re just waiting for the right moment.

But you can't use your visions recklessly. It’s not just that you don’t want to; foresight is too dangerous, It’s a trade-off that isn’t worth the risk. The future is not like the past. There are countless branching paths that can change at any moment. The further you look, the more painful it becomes, and you risk losing your sanity. You don't have the strong prophetic abilities of your ancestors. You are a weak, distant descendant. Without the training your mother forced upon you, you probably would have died before you turned fifteen.

For safety, you decide to look at the near future, roughly calculating the chances of what will happen tomorrow if you decide to escape. All the results lead to only one path: no matter how you try to escape, Qimir will still catch you.

You sigh in frustration, silently questioning yourself. which path could possibly help you avoid death?

"We are **** ******** We don't hope, we plan"

Your mother's voice echoes repeatedly in your head as you lie with your eyes closed on the hard stone bed, trying to meditate silently instead of falling asleep as you should.

You spend the whole night pondering the things your mother taught you, until the morning sunlight creeps in through the cave mouth, gradually dispelling the darkness of the night.

You hear Qimir stirring, getting up from his bed, followed by the sound of coarse fabric rubbing and footsteps as quiet as a cat sneaking out silently. He always goes out at the same time and returns later in the morning. Qimir never tells you what he does, and you never ask. You don't want to talk to him more than necessary.

...But that doesn't mean you're not curious.

You step down from the bed, feeling the stiffness that gnaws at every part of your body, especially your legs. You shake out your legs before walking outside the cave, following the earlier footprints stretching across the sandy beach. The early morning air is quite cool because the sun hasn't fully risen yet, making the sea breeze chilly. You hug yourself to ward off the cold, regretting not bringing a cloak. All you have on is a long-sleeved cotton shirt and baggy brown pants made of low-quality fabric, so thin they barely protect you from anything.

Soon you notice a pile of clothes left on the sand near a rocky outcrop by the beach. You recognize them as Qimir's clothes. You scan the area for Qimir before spotting his tall figure soaking in the water, naked and relaxed amidst the sea and the surrounding rocks of various sizes, which look like protective ramparts or a hidden place secluded from the outside world.

The sight makes you startle, almost exclaim but manage to stop yourself. Embarrassment quickly forms as a flush of heat spreads across both your cheeks. You didn't expect to intrude on his private time like this. Luckily, Qimir has his back to you; otherwise, you would have felt even more awkward if he had seen you first.

You know that the best thing to do right now is to quietly slip away before Qimir notices. However, something about him catches your eye first.

It's the large scar on his back—a terrifying long mark crossed-shaped. It definitely doesn't look like a scar from a mere accident, but more like someone intentionally tried to take his life.

You frown, confused, curious, mixed with a strange sense of apprehension towards Qimir. What could he have done to deserve this?

For the first time, you realize that you don't know anything about this man, except for the name he told you.

"If you're going to stare at me this long, I might have to start charging you."

You jump in surprise. Qimir didn't even turn to look at you when he said this.

Before you can make an excuse or hurry away, he turns back as if anticipating it, meeting your eyes openly with a mischievous, teasing smile. Those black eyes look particularly intense, contrasting with his pale skin in the water.

"Want to join in?"

His hand sweeps back the damp hair falling over his face before he swims closer to you. Water droplets cling to his tall, muscular frame, sparkling like gems in the sunlight, breathtakingly beautiful and alluring.

The sight makes you breathless, as if you're drowning underwater even though you're standing on solid ground.

It takes almost a moment before you regain your composure. Your feet quickly retreat from the shore, as if afraid he might drag you into the sea. "Don't move!" you shout at him when you see Qimir about to rise from the water while still naked, leaving you flustered and unsure of where to look.

Qimir can't help but laugh at your mix of shock and anger. "If you're not going to join me, I'd like to put my clothes back on." The man points to the pile of black clothes near your feet. "But if you want to see me naked, I don't mind," he smiles innocently, his sparkling eyes never leaving you for a second.

You feel increasingly irritated. You know he's trying to tease you again.

You want to get back at him somehow, even just a little.

Your eyes glance down at his clothes on the sand, and suddenly you have an idea.

"Your suggestion is very interesting," You nod at him before reaching down to pick up his clothes. "Seeing you walk around naked would be quite a sight indeed."

Qimir's eyes widen, only realizing what's happening when he sees you clutching his clothes and running away at full speed.

"You!! Stop right there!"

The shouting voice behind you sounds closer than you expect. You quickly glance back and see Qimir chasing after you rapidly, still naked. His bare body and flustered expression are both hilarious and amusing. The allure he had before is completely gone.

You can't stop laughing, even as he finally catches up to you.

You stand no chance against Qimir in terms of size or strength. As soon as he grabs you, the outcome is inevitable. After a brief struggle, Qimir trips you, causing you to fall onto the sand. The impact leaves you winded, but you keep laughing even while lying there. It is the first time in a year that you have the chance to laugh so heartily and for so long.

Qimir hurriedly dresses as fast as he can, glaring at you as you show no signs of stopping your laughter. He then sits down beside you, his broad chest under his clothes rising and falling with rapid breaths, exhausted from the sudden morning exercise. "You little brat," he says to you, still panting, trying to contain his anger. "I should just kill you."

He means it; he isn't joking. If anyone else had heard this, they might have been terrified, but you don't care. You are laughing so hard you can barely breathe, your cheeks flushed with a rosy glow, as vibrant as any typical teenager should be. Qimir stares at you without blinking, this time not in anger but in contemplation.

You have never smiled or laughed before, not even once. You always wear an expression as if you are carrying the weight of the entire world, like someone hiding something deep in their heart or someone who has experienced too many terrible things to mention. Many times, he senses this—you seem like someone much older, perhaps even more than him, as if an old soul is trapped in your youthful body.

Who exactly is this woman? He wonders, looking at your plain, unremarkable face. There is nothing particularly memorable about it, except for your eyes. They are the deepest, most brilliant blue he has ever seen.

There is something both captivating and unsettling about you.

"You have talent, you're cunning and quick. You'd make a good thief. Could be quite helpful in my work."

You stop laughing and look up at Qimir. His tone sounds too serious to be joking, but his lips are curved into a smile, completely different from his angry demeanor earlier. "Are you offering to teach me?" you ask, confused.

"Would you like to learn?"

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head slowly. "What's the point, when I'm probably going to..."

You don’t finish your sentence, letting it trail off. The bright expression from moments ago is fading once more.

"When you're what?" Qimir asks, his curiosity about you growing stronger.

"Nothing," you answer his question with the same phrase you always use, while painfully swallowing the word 'die', unwilling to reveal more.

You don't realize the sharp, intense gaze from Qimir, subtly hidden beneath his friendly smile.

...and you certainly don't realize that your choice to remain silent might lead to events spiraling beyond control.

#qimir x reader #qimir fic #qimir x you #the stranger x reader #the acolyte fanfiction #qimir x y/n #the acolyte x reader #star wars #the acolyte #star wars fic #the acolyte fic #qimir #Angst and Tragedy #strangers to lovers #the curse of cassandra

94 notes · View notes

anna-hawk · 22 days ago

Text

Pardon my French

Michael “Mikey” Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You should never assume that the person you're talking about in another language doesn't happen to speak that same language. Rating: T | WC: 5.8k CW: none except my sense of humor, French-speaking reader, French, crack, fluff, meet-cute

Read it on AO3

The happiest of birthdays to my favorite person on here, @darlingshane. Amaya, I don't even know what I could say that I haven't already said 100 times. All I will say is that I love you from the bottom of my heart and that having you as a close friend has been a wonderful experience these past 4 years 🧡🧡🧡

This time, as a gift, I decided to go for Mikey, considering how much you've grown to love him. Your fics for him are some of your best, with “Salt of the Earth”, so I thought I could do a little homage. I was reading through a list of prompts for meet-cutes last month and this really spoke to me. Your Spanish reader fics were extremely fun, which was what inspired me and made me decide to make this into your gift. While I obviously can't write a Spanish reader, I thought you would enjoy something with a French reader instead.

✨Have fun and again, happy birthday!✨

Taking a left at the next street corner, you quickly hurried across the road when you saw the green traffic light for pedestrians.

“You really suck, Caroline,” you grumbled into your phone, as the chill of November blasted a cold gust of wind into your face.

Your cousin laughed before sighing deeply. “I know… Trust me, this was not what I had in mind for today either.”

You sighed in turn as you glanced around for a place to head inside and warm up a bit. “How’s the fever?”

“It’s a bit lower. She’s sleeping for now.”

“Good,” you smiled at the relief in your cousin’s voice.

You had intended to spend the day together, but her daughter had come down with a nasty cold that had held both parents up for most of the night.

“What’s the plan now?” Caroline asked right as you entered the nearest shop to get out of the cold wind.

As soon as you were inside, you were met with the sound of shouting from the register as someone called out orders, while the delicious smell of homemade food hit your nose.

“Getting something to eat,” you replied distractedly while taking in your surroundings.

You hadn’t noticed what kind of establishment you’d entered, but since you hadn’t had breakfast that morning, and with the scents all around you, you figured that you could grab a bite.

“Oh, where?”

“Dunno.” You looked around until you saw a white sign with green lettering. “The Beef… some small place selling Italian beef, apparently… Smells really good,” you added, as you walked up towards the small line at the register.

“Yo, cuz, what’cha doin’ back there?” the man at the register bellowed to the back of the shop. “People fuckin’ waitin’ here. Get a fuckin’ move on.”

“Fuck you, Richie. You come back here if-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Will you calm the fuck down, yeah?” said another man, who was straightening from where he’d been looking for something under the counter next to the shouting one.

Your eyes instantly slid to that man, taking note of the thick, dark hair on top of his head, the sharp jaw and the broad shoulders stretching out the shirt.

“Ah, ben maintenant je sais pourquoi ça s’appelle The Beef, (Well, now I know why it's called The Beef),” you uttered into the phone, automatically switching to French to talk to your cousin, while giving the man a slow once over as you reached the front of the line.

She laughed heartily and made a curious sound. “Pourquoi? (Why?)”

“Hey, what can I get for you today, sweetheart?” asked the guy called Richie as he shot you a smile.

You unfortunately had to look away from the other man and smiled as you looked at the sandwich list.

“Hold on a sec,” you addressed Caroline. “Hey, hi… um… an Original would be good, thanks… and a soda, please.”

“Sure thing… want it to go or you stayin’?”

“Not going back into that wind for a while if possible,” you stated fervently, which had Richie chuckling, while the dark-haired man snorted and nodded his head as he finished another order.

“Right, that’ll be $8.50… Go have a seat. We’ll send someone out in a sec.”

Nodding and quickly paying while Richie bellowed your order towards the back, you made your way to the two-person table that had the best vantage point on the register.

“We’ll definitely have to come back here,” you stated to your cousin, as you sat down and removed your coat while you watched the dark-haired man smiling or shouting his way through the orders.

“I think I’ve actually heard of the place. The name sounds familiar anyway. Family run business, I think.”

“Sure looks like it. From the way they keep freaking yelling at each other, it probably is.”

“So… tell me more about this Mr. Beef,” she snickered.

Switching over to your earphones to make eating easier while talking to Caroline, you made a more detailed description of the man’s features.

A few minutes later, you sat up straight when you noticed him coming into your direction with your order. “He’s coming over, hold on.”

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he smiled, placing the sandwich and soda in front of you.

“Thank you,” you grinned, hearing him calling you sweetheart having a wholly different effect on you than when Richie had said it.

“Lemme know if you need anything else,” he requested, while pulling a rag out of his apron and walking backwards to the table next to yours.

“Thanks. I’m good for now.”

He nodded and turned around, which revealed his denim clad backside to you.

“Tu sais quoi? Je ne t’en veux même plus de ne pas être venue, (You know what? I'm not even mad you couldn't come anymore.),” you told your cousin, as your eyes fixed on the moving ass before you while the man cleaned the table-top.

She snorted at your tone. “Et qu’est-ce qui te fait dire ça? (And what’s making you say this?)”

“Et bien… Il est en train de nettoyer la table juste à côté de la mienne… Et je peux te dire qu’il a une belle paire de miches**. C’est sur elles que j’aimerais manger cet Italian beef. (Well… He's cleaning the table right next to mine… And let me tell you that he has a gorgeous ass. I'd rather eat that Italian beef on that.)”

She burst out laughing this time. “T’es pas possible. (You're the worst.) ”

You grinned at her laughter, while continuing to watch the man, who'd stopped for a second before resuming cleaning the table.

“Je les pétrirais volontiers celles-là. (I'd love to knead that.)”

“Toi et tes blagues de bouffe. (You and your food jokes),” she wheezed, and you could easily imagine her shaking her head.

You chuckled lightly and bit into your sandwich, which turned out to be delicious. You moaned your appreciation.

“We're so coming back here,” you said with enthusiasm and took another bite.

The man turned around and shot you an amused smirk, before walking up to your table and leaning slightly into your space.

“Et comme mes miches, tout est fait maison ici. (And like my ass, everything here's homemade.)”

Your mouth fell open and only reflexes kept the sandwich from slipping through your fingers as you stared at him in utter shock. He winked at you and began walking to the next room where other tables stood.

“Oublie ce que je viens de dire… Je dois quitter la ville, (Forget what I said… I need to leave town.),” you said feebly, while staring after him and hearing him laughing at your words.

“Hein? Pourquoi? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? (Huh? Why? What happened?)”

“Caro…” you whispered, still in shock. “Il parle français. (Caro… He speaks French.)”

There was a second of silence, soon followed by your cousin's loud, screaming laughter coming through the earphones.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? (What did he say?)” she gasped out in between peels of laughter.

“Que, comme ses miches, tout est fait maison ici. (That, like his ass, everything here's homemade.),” you mumbled, while putting the sandwich down and hiding your face in your hands.

She laughed even more, cackling through wheezing breaths.

“I can't show my face here anymore,” you groaned, looking forlornly at your sandwich.

“Was he angry? From what he told you, he didn't seem to be.”

“No… he looked amused. But that's not the point… I talked about kneading that man's ass right in front of him,” you moaned and shook your head.

Caroline chuckled lightly. “At least you weren't badmouthing him.”

You only hummed and folded up the sandwich. There was no way that you could eat this now. About to bemoan going back into the wind to escape your embarrassment, you heard your niece’s tiny voice calling for her mother.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Caroline said hurriedly before speaking softly to her daughter.

“No problem. Give her a big hug from me.”

“Will do… Keep me posted on the hot stranger situation.”

You snorted. “There's no situation at all. I'm gonna slink out of here and never come back.”

Caroline laughed softly. “Whatever… talk later.”

“Yeah, later.”

You removed the earphones and placed them back into their case before checking your surroundings. How could you have been so stupid and run your mouth like that? Caroline was right, he didn’t look angry at all, but you’d rarely felt this embarrassed in your life. You quickly put everything into your bag and left a large tip on the table before getting up. As you put on your coat, you noticed the man standing in front of a wall as he checked the light fixture. Glad that he couldn’t see you, you were about to run out when something held you back. You bit over your bottom lip as you contemplated him and sighed deeply.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” you asked tentatively as you reached him.

His head turned to you in surprise, before a large smirk appeared on his handsome face as he moved his whole body toward you. Damn, he really did look incredibly good.

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh… well, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I’m always the first one to tell people to be careful with speaking another language in front of others and not assume they don’t understand you, but here I was doing it anyway,” you said in a rush, glancing at him in between words while mostly avoiding direct eye contact.

“Eh, don't worry, it's not like you were talking shit about me so…” he trailed off with a light shrug, while his grin never left his face.

“Maybe, but still… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be…” He leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. “Ça ne me gêne pas. Surtout quand ça vient d'une aussi belle bouche que la tienne. (I don't mind. Especially when it comes from a pretty mouth like yours.)”

Your eyes widened, while you felt your whole face warming again when his gaze dropped to your parted lips. That’s not what you had expected him to say.

“Well,” you breathed, your eyes locking with his as he looked up again. “Good to know.”

You stood there, watching each other for a few seconds, before Richie’s voice boomed through the snack.

“Hey, Cuz, Fak’s on the line ‘bout the fridge.”

The man in front of you didn’t react except to briefly lift his eyes toward where the voice was coming from before looking at you again.

“Mikey!”

“For fuck’s sake. I heard you. Tell him I’ll call him back in a sec,” he called out irritably.

You laughed to yourself at his annoyance at being interrupted, which had his attention returning to you. Shaking his head with a small grin and a sigh, he put his hands in the pockets of the blue apron.

“You leaving already?” he asked after a beat, as he noticed that you had your coat on and your table was cleaned off.

You grinned inwardly at the word already, as if he was regretting seeing you leave sooner than he had expected.

“Yeah… think I’ll just head home for the day. No weather for nice walks outside.”

Mikey only hummed in agreement and looked down with a small crease between his brows.

“But I’ll be back,” you blurted out, which had him staring back at you with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… best Italian sandwich I’ve had… Need to have another taste and all.”

“Glad to hear it,” he smiled, inclining his head to one side as he stared at you intently.

You suddenly didn’t feel like leaving at all anymore, but sitting back down would seem weird now, right? He was obviously flirting with you, much to your surprised delight, yet you didn’t feel like coming across as too eager either.

“‘Kay, then… I — uh — I’ll see you next time, I guess.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, while his gaze remained focused on you.

“Right… bye, Mikey,” you babbled, finally taking a step back just when you saw him grinning at you using his name.

“A la prochaine. (Until next time),” he replied, following you towards the front of the shop.

Your name came through your lips like a reflex, and you would have felt embarrassed about that too had Mikey not smiled at learning it. When he repeated the goodbyes with your name this time, you left with a wide smile and barely felt the wind across your skin as you headed home.

**The word ‘ miche’ stands for a loaf of bread, but it’s often used to refer to someone’s butt because, as you can guess, of its rounded form. Reader wants to "knead that dough".

After that day, you had returned as promised.

On the first time, they’d had a busy day, with the line far longer than the last time you’d been there. Mikey hadn’t been at the register, which had disappointed you, but you’d still ordered the same thing as last time. You hadn’t lied when you’d said that it was the best Italian beef you’d had. As you’d been about to walk to a free table, Mikey had come out of the kitchen with a large tray filled with orders. He’d stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and smiled brightly in recognition. Unfortunately, this had been the only interaction that day, since he’d had to return to the kitchen immediately.

On your third visit, Caroline insisted on coming along. She told you that she wanted to taste the infamous Italian beef that people raved about at her job, but you knew that it also was to get a look at Mikey. However, like last time, he wasn’t at the register. She looked at Richie and then back at you with a raised eyebrow, but you only rolled your eyes at her.

“Il a les yeux bleus, celui-là (This one has blue eyes.).”

“De très beaux yeux bleus (Very pretty blue eyes.),” she commented with a smile directed at Richie, as he asked for your order.

Caroline ordered a few different things to bring home a little later, while you went with the original as both other times. Richie yelled the order to the back as always, while he invited you to take a seat.

“Maybe he isn’t in,” Caroline said as she looked around herself.

You shrugged as you took a napkin and folded it in half. “Maybe.”

You wanted to sound nonchalant, but you seriously hoped that he’d be around.

A little while later, the kitchen door opened, with Mikey stepping through it while talking to the person behind him. With your direct view of the register, you noticed him immediately. At your sudden silence, Caroline turned to look as well, which had you hissing at her to not be so obvious.

“What? I’m just checking where my order is,” she waved her hand around at you, and you huffed.

Mikey was still talking while he lifted his eyes to stare around the shop distractedly, only to notice you and smile as he spoke. Your face heated, and you bit your bottom lip at the way he smiled at you. You saw him say something to Richie, who looked towards your table before pointing at an order.

“So?” You heard Caroline ask, but you were too busy watching as Mikey picked up the order and walked towards you.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “So, these two for now” — he placed a sandwich in front of each of you along with your drinks. — “and this to-go, right?” He put a packed order in the center of the table.

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled.

“Alors c’est lui, pas vrai? (So, that’s him, right?)” Caroline asked while staring at him, which had you making wide eyes at her and groaning softly.

“Caro…”

Mikey looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Oui, c’est moi (Yes, it’s me.),” he replied easily.

Caroline grinned and nodded her head. “Alors, tout est fait maison ici, c’est bien ça? (So, everything’s homemade here, correct?)”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, and kicked your cousin under the table.

Mikey laughed heartily and nodded. “Oui, absolument tout. (Yes, absolutely everything.)”

“Great. Good to know,” Caroline shrugged and sat back casually, like she was just a satisfied customer.

Mikey chuckled and looked back at you with a sly smile.

“Anything else I can get you guys?”

“Nope, we’re good, thank you,” you quickly replied before Caroline could jump in and embarrass you more.

Mikey nodded with another small laugh and walked off with a “Bon appétit. (Enjoy.)”

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed at your cousin, who had the gall to snort and roll her eyes.

“I had to see if the man can take a joke, and he does.” She took a bite from her sandwich and groaned in satisfaction as she chewed. “Besides, the man already knows you find him hot… Which, you were right about, he’s a good-looking dude… But, I’ll take the yelling, blue-eyed one,” she added matter-of-factly after taking another bite.

You snorted at her words. Caroline was married to one of the chillest men on this planet, and she loved the hell out of him. But she’d always had a thing for the loud ones. Except that it never worked out with them because of her fiery personality. She and her husband balanced each other out perfectly, though.

“Still, you didn’t have to remind him of what I said,” you grumbled, biting into your own sandwich. “I was more hoping he’d forget about it.”

Caroline snorted softly. “That first impression is gonna be unforgettable. But I really don’t think he minds that at all… The opposite, really.”

“Right…” You rolled your eyes and sipped from your drink this time. “He might have flirted with me last time, but it doesn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, while swallowing another bite and glancing at you with a smirk. “The attraction clearly does go both ways with how he can’t stop looking at you.”

“What?” you asked in surprise and sat up straight in your chair.

“He’s talking to customers a few tables over, and he’s looked at you at least ten times already.”

You blinked at her at the revelation and ducked your head with a shrug.

“Maybe he’s just looking at our table in general.”

“Yeah, right. I could be dancing around naked that he wouldn’t even notice it.”

This had you uttering a loud laugh of amusement, which turned into a small, pleased smile as you took in her words.

“He’s coming back,” she whispered suddenly, having you jerking in your seat.

“Ça vous plait? (Do you like it?)” he asked Caroline, although he glanced at you.

“Aussi bon qu’on me l’avait dit. (As good as I was told.)” She nodded with a hum of approval.

“Content de l’entendre… Et toi? (Glad to hear it… What about you?)” he glanced your way with a lifted eyebrow.

“Délicieux (Delicious.),” you smiled, feeling your face warming as you saw your cousin watching the two of you with a smirk.

Mikey nodded with a pleased smile and was about to say something when Richie called for him. He sighed.

“Enjoy the rest of your meal,” he said and shot you a smile that was obviously only for you before he headed back.

You followed him with your eyes until he vanished in the kitchen, which had you noticing Caroline’s lifted eyebrow that clearly said ‘told you so’.

“Could be dancing naked,” she repeated meaningfully with a smirk.

Shaking your head at her with a small laugh, you went on eating the sandwich.

An hour later, you left The Beef, but Mikey never came back from the kitchen.

In the following weeks, The Beef became one of your regular places. It had everything to do with Mikey, obviously, however, as the weeks went on, you got into talking to the other people working there. The place was chaotic, with everyone running around and shouting obscenities at each other, but you quickly realized how deeply everyone cared about each other. Caroline, and even her husband, came along a couple more times. However, you mostly went by yourself. For the simple reason that Mikey would often come to your table and strike up a conversation whenever you went alone.

You seriously enjoyed talking to him. He could be as loud and all over the place as the rest of the Beef’s staff, and flirt with you in a very obvious way, while he could also give off this more introverted and thoughtful persona. It was during the later moments that you talked the most, with Mikey sometimes sitting down at your table and talking about the most mundane stuff. You shared stories about your jobs and families, which told you that he also had a younger brother along with the younger sister you’d seen a couple of times. Watching her interact with the loud men in the restaurant, looking so sweet and calm, only to see her biting back if needed, had been an incredibly funny moment.

Caroline was getting more and more frustrated with the two of you for not moving things along, though. However, you really didn’t care. Did you want there to be more? Yes, but you also genuinely enjoyed spending the time with Mikey the way that you currently were, despite how much you wanted to kiss him when he stared at you from under his eyebrows like he often did. Only time would tell, and you weren’t in any particular hurry.

“Hey, Basic Beef. How’s it goin’ today?” Richie hollered as soon as he saw you.

You chuckled at the nickname and walked up to him. Richie had taken to calling you that a few visits back after you’d been talking about your choice of order. He’d teased you about always taking the same thing and not being adventurous enough. To which you’d laughed and shrugged, telling him that you were okay with being a basic bitch. Richie had almost keeled over with laughter at your words, wheezing out the word Basic Beef. To no one’s surprise, Caroline had almost lost it after you’d told her the following day. These two got along far too well.

“Hey, Ducon. (Hey, Asshole),” you snorted and leaned against the counter.

He grinned and turned towards the list of sandwiches with a hum of faked curiosity.

“What will it be today?” he singsonged.

“You’re such a dick,” you laughed.

“Hey, Mikey,” Richie smirked, as he shouted to the back while maintaining eye contact with you. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

You groaned and shook your head, while you heard Mikey’s voice from the kitchen.

“Hope you ain’t being a dick about her order again.”

Richie grinned at you, which had you fighting down the warmth rushing into your face at the fact that Mikey knew exactly who Richie was talking about.

“Yes, he is,” you called out with a laugh to hide your embarrassment, knowing that the other customers could hear everything too.

“She insulted me in French,” Richie threw back with mock outrage.

“Serves you right,” Mikey said, stepping out of the kitchen with a wide grin directed at you. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

“Hey,” you smiled.

You saw Richie sighing and rolling his eyes at the two of you before moving towards the kitchen. “Guess I’ll be making that sandwich myself.”

“God, you’re such a fucking drama queen,” Mikey snorted, while you laughed at Richie’s theatrics. “Can’t I just say hi?”

“That’s not sayin’ hi, cuz, that’s undressin’ her with your eyes.”

You almost choked on your spit, while Mikey closed his eyes as if praying for patience and sighed. “Why do I even let you work here?”

“Cause this place would come crashin’ down without me, asshole.”

Mikey shoved him hard with a huff of a laugh and took a step back before looking at you and then back at Richie.

“I’ll have that order out in two,” he finally said after looking at you again.

“Uh, thanks,” you nodded, while Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow as Mikey made his way back to the kitchen.

Richie sighed again while you took out your wallet, and nodded at the customer who had just entered the place and was waiting behind you. Handing over the cash, your money was met by Richie waving it away.

“Go have a seat, Love. It’s on the house tonight,” he said with a much softer tone.

“Oh… Um, okay, thanks, Richie.”

“No problem,” he winked with a genuine smile. A smile that you returned easily.

One thing had to be said about Richie; he might be loud and obnoxious most of the time, he was also a nice guy who you actually really liked. Putting everything back into your bag, you made your way to your usual table.

As promised, Mikey was out with your order barely two minutes later.

“There you go.” He placed everything neatly in front of you.

“Thanks,” you smiled brightly, looking into his face.

Mikey nodded and looked back towards the register and the kitchen with a tiny frown.

“I — uh — I’m kinda stuck back there with preparing stuff for the weekend and-”

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I know you can’t chat every time,” you cut in, nodding your head in understanding. You didn’t want him to feel bad about not coming out to talk if he was busy.

“Yeah, no, I know, but I was kinda thinking…” he trailed off and looked down for a beat, sucking on his bottom lip. “Will you stay after we close?” he finally asked, looking at you from under his lashes.

You blinked a couple of times at the unexpected question. “Oh… um, yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Yeah?” he smiled softly. “It’s gonna be” — he looked around the place — “another hour at least, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I can go pester Richie if I get too bored.”

Mikey barked out a laugh at that and nodded his head a few times.

“‘Kay… See you later.”

You smiled in acknowledgment and watched him walk back, stopping next to Richie, whose eyes shot to you after a moment, but you quickly averted your gaze. Picking up your sandwich, you took a bite to stop yourself from looking up again. Your face felt warm as you thought about Mikey’s request to stay. That had never happened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what was going to happen. In any case, you could only imagine Richie grinning like a lunatic at Mikey informing him that you’d be staying. To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and went through your various social media platforms while you ate and then sat out to wait.

A little while later, you were reading through an article about a show you were looking forward to when Richie appeared at your side.

“You can already go through to the back. Everyone’s left there, and I’m gonna finish with the couple customers left and close the front.”

“Oh, okay.” You got up and looked towards the kitchen.

“Okay, listen,” Richie started, looking suddenly serious. “I know I’ve been givin’ you shit and all that about him, but truth is, Mikey’s been… kinda all over the place lately. But since you showed up, speaking French and all that… I’ve seen more glimpses of my best friend than I have in a while.”

You stared at him in surprise. That’s not what you had expected to hear.

“Shit… I don’t wanna scare you off or anything. But… shit… Mikey, when he falls, he falls hard, yeah? And I can tell that you’re not some bitch out to hurt him or nothin’.”

You chuckled at his agitation.

“Nah… I’m just some Basic Beef, remember?” you said softly.

Richie snorted and nodded his head.

“But seriously, thank you, Richie. I’m glad that he has someone looking out for him… But yeah…” You looked towards the door leading to the kitchen. “Mikey, he… I just really, really like him”, you stated with a smile that you knew revealed how smitten you were by the man.

Richie nodded again with a small smile.

“Yeah…” He finally cleared his throat and waved towards the kitchen. “Right… Go ahead… And please, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah? Remember, kitchen, sanitary measures.”

You groaned and shoved at his arm. Now, that was what you had expected. “Don’t be gross, Jerimovich.”

You heard him laughing as you walked towards the kitchen.

Stepping through the door, you looked around at the rows of appliances, pots, and pans, while you hung your coat and bag on a hook near the staff door. As you moved to the deepest part, you found Mikey in front of the stove, with three large pots bubbling away on it.

“Hey,” you said softly, coming to stand next to him with your hip against the counter as you faced his profile.

Mikey lifted his head from one of the pots he’d been leaning over and stirring, his hair curling at the top from the steam. He beamed as he saw you.

“Hey. Richie gone yet?”

“No, not yet. There was still a table left. He said he’d close the front and leave from there.”

Mikey looked towards where the front of the shop was, as if he could see Richie, and smiled.

“Smells delicious in here,” you said after a second, staring at the insides of the pots.

Mikey grinned. “Making the last batch of pulled pork and beef.”

You made a long hum of appreciation at that, which had Mikey uttering a pleased chuckle.

“Can I help you with anything?” you wondered, looking around yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. There ain’t much left to do except wait a bit, but…” he trailed off like earlier.

You tilted your head in question. He was being incredibly tentative tonight, which was kind of cute. “But?”

Mikey shot you a small glance and cleared his throat.

“Just wanted to see you for a bit longer.”

You ducked your head and smiled. While Mikey had flirted with you intensely over the last weeks, it had all been done in a lighthearted fashion. The interest had been genuine, but it had never been this open. This confession was raw and hit you straight in the heart.

“Yeah? Well… While I love the food you guys make here, you know that’s not really what has me coming back every time.”

Mikey smiled warmly, before he smirked. “C’est mon cul, pas vrai? (It’s my ass, right?)”

“Ah non mais t’es pas possible, arrête. (Oh come on, you’re the worst, stop it),” you half groaned, half laughed while pushing at his shoulder.

Mikey laughed heartily and caught your hand as he turned to face you fully. You looked into his eyes, filled with mirth, but also something so tender that it took your breath away.

“Wanna know something embarrassing about me?” he asked in a soft tone.

You nodded lightly, your heart in your throat and unable to speak with the way he was looking at you.

“J’avais déjà envie de t’embrasser le jour où on s’est rencontré. (I already wanted to kiss you on the day we met.)”

Your heart missed a beat before it started to beat faster.

“Alors pourquoi tu ne l’as pas encore fait? (Then why haven’t you done it yet?)” you breathed.

Mikey smiled and cupped one side of your face with a large and warm palm. “Bonne question. (Good question.),” he whispered, before slowly leaning in.

Your eyes automatically fell shut when his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, just his lips pressing onto yours, as if testing the waters. You lifted your hands to his waist, your fingers gripping at his t-shirt as you slanted your head in request for more. Mikey huffed out a small breath against your lips, and moved in closer, giving you what you wanted. His hand went to the back of your head, with the fingers sliding into your hair as he parted your lips with his. You moaned at the first, soft stroke of his tongue against your bottom lip, just grazing the skin teasingly before he delved in further. Your fingers tightened in his shirt as the kiss turned into something more. More intense. Hungrier. Leaning against the stove, Mikey’s other hand went to the middle of your back, pulling you as close together as possible. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his chest and clung to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You suddenly felt ridiculous about ever thinking that you didn’t have any issues with just seeing where this thing with Mikey was going, since you had clearly underestimated how much you actually wanted this. Wanted him. And from how he was kissing you, holding you so tightly against him, the feeling was unmistakably mutual.

You couldn’t say how long you stood there, locked together, with no signs of letting up, but you were pulled out of the moment by the pots suddenly bubbling wildly. Mikey cursed while you gasped, the two of you springing apart to see the contents of the pots sputtering around and almost starting to overflow. Jumping into action instantly, Mikey turned the heat down and stirred the pots while muttering under his breath.

Once everything was under control again, Mikey held himself up with his hands on the counter and exhaled deeply as he turned his head towards you.

“I think my ass is responsible for this too… I turned the heat back on high when I leaned against the stove,” he explained sheepishly.

You stared at him for a second, before you burst into laughter, while he watched you with an amused smile.

“You know,” you said lightly and stepped into his space again, wrapping your arms around his neck while he circled your waist with his. “I think I need to take some responsibility for this too.”

“Hm… you did distract me,” Mikey agreed with a chuckle, and leaned in to kiss you.

You grinned against his mouth, the kiss about to continue like you’d never been interrupted, when Mikey forcefully leaned his head away with a grunt and kissed your forehead instead.

“Okay… let’s just…”

“Am I distracting you again,” you laughed softly, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

“You have no idea,” he confessed, pulling you into a hug this time.

You smiled into the embrace and took in a deep breath, staying in this position for a few long minutes.

“Rentre avec moi? (Come home with me?)” you finally asked, although you kept your face against his shoulder.

Mikey cupped your face and tilted your head until he could look into your eyes, revealing his warm gaze.

“Avec plaisir. (It would be my pleasure.)”

#mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #mikey berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal #darlingshane #birthday fic #mes fics

65 notes · View notes

fruity-mega-coconut69 · 1 year ago

Text

A Car?!

[Pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader.

[Summary]: It's Tara's 20th birthday and you might have gone a little over-board with her gift.

[Warnings]: Fluff? , shitty ending, My writing

A/N: Sorry, it's short.

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

“I can’t believe I’m going to miss it!”

You mutter to yourself as you look out the window of your father’s private jet. It’s your girlfriend's, Tara’s, birthday today and you haven’t bought anything for her, and as a matter of fact, it’s possible you are not going to arrive home before later tonight.

But, luckily, you were wrong and you arrived back in New York at 4pm. You were so happy, you practically ran out of the jet when it landed and immediately went to search for something to buy for Tara.

And now, you’re walking the busy streets of New York, looking for the perfect gift. You feel exhausted and tired as you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours, but your feet kept moving until you finally found just the gift for Tara. Your face lights up as you stop in your tracks in front of a car shop and you grin, doing a small dance before going in and looking around.

About half an hour later, your eyes widen and get stuck on a specific car that’s just Tara . You look at the label and see its price, ‘ $63.300’. You smile and turn to the worker that has been showing you around. He smirks and comes closer.

“Ah, a BMW Z4. It’s one of our newer cars. You said it was for a special someone, hm?” You nod and she looks at you. “Well, then, it’s perfect.” You nod and reach into your bag for your wallet, pulling out the money needed while the worker stares at you with a wind mouth and eyes. You smile and hand it to him. He stands there for a minute before mumbling something about bringing some papers.

After signing everything needed, you walk out of the shop happily. Then wait until they bring the car out. After they did, you thank them and immediately speed towards Tara’s apartment building. When you arrive, you get out of the car, now feeling slightly nervous.

What if she doesn’t like it?

Is she going to be mad at me for buying something for her again?

You shake your head and go inside, running up the stairs and knocking on her door when you reach it. Only, it’s not Tara’s cute face that welcomes you when the door opens and instead there is a woman with a big scowl on her face, clearly annoyed. You look down and start to fidget.

“Uh, h-hi. I-Is Tara…here?” You stutter out as you feel small under Sam’s gaze. Although you and Tara have been together for several months, you never had the time to meet her friends and sister who she always told you so much about. All this due to your parents bringing you to every business trip they go to, which is a lot.

You look up again and see that the older Carpenter is about to say something when Tara’s sweet voice can be heard. “Y/N?!” Then loud footsteps and soon Sam is pushed aside and Tara takes her place, immediately smiling at you and not wasting any time before she hugs you tightly. You smile and inhale her scent that you had missed. Tara pulls back only to lean up and give you a sweet kiss that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam as she gasps.

She doesn’t understand, Tara has been sad all day and Sam and the others have been desperately trying to cheer her up as it is her birthday and she should be happy. And all it takes for that to happen is for some complete stranger to show up at their door?

Tara has a love-struck smile on her face as she pulls back from the kiss and grabs your hand, dragging you inside. There, you see two other people, who you are guessing, are Mindy and Chad. You wave at them awkwardly and sit down on the couch. Sam grumples and closes the door. Tara sits beside you, close. You decide to look around the apartment and smile as you take in the coziness of the home and a warm feeling erupts in your heart when you feel Tara lean into you.

Then, your eyes land on the kitchen table and you notice a bunch of crumpled wrapping paper and some items on the table, like a phone case, a sweater and some chocolate. You gasp and grin.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” All of them look confused as you hadn’t introduced yourself. You grin and pick up your bag, searching for the key to Tara's car. When you find it, you let out a sigh and your hand goes behind your back when you turn back to Tara. She is smiling, but is visibly confused. You blush and show your hands, the keys dangling from them.

“Happy Birthday!” You smile.

Tara’s eyes widen and she gasps, hand flying to her mouth. “You bought me a car?! But, honey! You didn’t have to! Why-?”

She was cut off by Sam as she steps closer to you, eyeing you. “So what? You just come here, not even introduce yourself, kiss my sister and buy her a car? Who the hell are you?”

You look down. “UH, he-her girlfriend, ma’am.” Then you glance at Tara. “And I'm sorry if you don’t like it. I-I can take it back?”

Sam stands still, shocked while Tara smiles wildly and shakes her head. “No, it..it’s perfect! Thank you so much! “She giggles and hugs you, planting a small kiss on your lips. You bite your lip and nod. “But also, what have I told you about buying me expensive stuff for no reason?”

“But! It is for your birthday! “ She laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Oh, you goofball.” Then grabs the back of your neck and kisses you deeply. You sigh into the kiss and wrap your arms around her shoulders. You break apart and she looks down at the keys.

Suddenly, Chad shouts. “Oh! Let’s see the car! I wanna see the car! “He smiles excitedly.

All of you laugh, but Sam keeps staring at you suspiciously as all five of you leave the apartment building and in front of it, is parked the BMW Z4. Tara’s -and everyone else’s- mouth is agape as she stares at the car.

You walk up to it and lean against it, trying to look cool, but failing as you trip and almost fall over. You clear your throat and straighten up as the others chuckle. “So? Wanna take this baby for a ride?” You cringe almost immediately. “Ugh, never saying that again.”

Tara smiles and walks up to the car. “Sure thing, Darling. Let's ride.” And she gets into the driver's seat. You laugh and get in too. Tara puts the key in and turns it, the engine roaring. She leans forward to look at the others. “See you soon, my friends!” She waves at them and pushes her foot on the gas.

A couple of minutes later, the roof is down and the wind is blowing through you guys’s hair as the two of you laugh and talk. There is a beat of silence between you two, only the sound of the engine and the whooshing of the wind can be heard-as well as the other cars around you-. Then, Tara turns to you.

“I love you”

You blush and look at her. “ I…love you, too.”

She giggles and puts a comforting hand on your knee. “So, should we heat things up?” She asks and before you could answer, she steps on the gas and you are speeding through New York. Your heart is racing as you laugh and admire the view of the city in the dark of the night, and of course, Tara’s beauty.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x you #scream fanfic #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #scream vi #jenna ortega x reader #scream franchise

589 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, your writing about how a yandere reader kidnapped Klaus is quiet interesting and this gave me an idea: how about a scenario where a yandere reader kidnapped a yandere Klaus? Like where reader faked Klaus to believe she was innocent and sweet but in fact she was just obsessive and possessive as he was, so she kidnapped him to protect him from being hurt by his enemies? Thanks a lot.

(Readers gonna be a witch cuz I doubt a human could kidnap him by themselves)

Power Play

He started it.

He was the one who started following me, not the other way around. He wanted to know more about me, know where I live and how involved I was with the ‘save Elena gang’. He wanted to stand outside my house and watch me like he didn’t know I left my curtains open on purpose.

It was all him.

It isn’t my fault that his obsession brought on mine.

He was just so possessive and jealous and damaged and desperate for love, I couldn’t just ignore him.

I wanted him so I took him. Just more gradually than maybe I would like.

I had to entice him first. Once I realised he had chosen me, I needed to find out why.

I didn’t really get in the way of his plans and kept relatively quiet whenever the others were planning anything and to Klaus that mean that I was innocent in the situation and didn’t like to hurt people. Partly true but it was more that I couldn’t be bothered.

But I was happy to play the innocent victim if that’s what he wanted.

All I had to do was have him find me crying over a boy and he was all over me, telling me I was too good for a common fool and that ‘a little witch like me’ should be with someone much more powerful to keep me safe.

The feel of his arms around me was perfect and I knew I would need it more. I could hear his breath hitch as I hugged him back tightly, his hand ran through my hair making us both sigh before inevitably having to pull away.

He kissed my forehead and I kissed his cheek before we both parted, each of us with a smile on our faces for very similar reasons.

That night when he stood outside my house I decided to give him more of a show, leaving the curtains open after my shower and sitting by my window as I rubbed cream onto my bare legs.

It was so easy to wind him up, showing him any amount of my skin had him immediately as close as he was allowed without it being suspicious.

Walking around in my mini skirt and tight cropped top always had him approaching me, his arm fining its way around my waist as he pulled me to him

“You look gorgeous today sweetheart” he would compliment while staring any others who looked my way down.

“Oh, thank you, I liked the colours” i mumbled while smiling up at him making his lips upturn and him to nod

“So do I”

Though I knew his attention was truly more focused on my legs and cleavage, not that I minded.

Occasionally he would request a spell or two from me but I pretended I wasn’t very good at all. Which earned me lessons from him

“A pretty little witch like you should know how to defend herself, how about we start with something simple hm?” He placed a candle in-front of me and although I could easily light a thousand of them alight, I made a struggle out off it and made myself appear frustrated and upset so he would bring comfort and words of encouragement.

Once I had it lit he was over the moon, spinning me in his arms and kissing the corner of my mouth before bringing a beginners spell book over and allowing me to choose one to try next.

I knew if I got too good or confident then he would feel threatened, he didn’t like powerful things, he liked people to be weaker and sweeter than him.

So I was just that. Even took to baking to make appear as though I had some basic human hobbies, I would bring him biscuits and cakes when we had my lessons and each time he tried a new one he threw a fuss over it.

When he started gifting me little flowy dresses I knew he thought me to be an angel. Diamond necklaces and pearl earrings always being presented to me wrapped in pink ribbons. White was his favourite colour on me

“The colour of innocence and purity my love, it’s perfect for your beauty”

“There must be something I can buy you?” I offered with a smile but he shook his head

“Your baked treats are all I need” he murmured

“Surely you desire something else? Anything?” I questioned and he shifted in his seat, clearly thinking something a little more than a normal gift. “How about my blood?” I tilted my head and his eyes widened

“Love-“

“No I insist, you can drink from me, I don’t mind” I gave him my wrist and watched the hesitation on his face. “Please? It’s my thank you to you…for being so generous and caring for me” I whispered and his eyes softened

“Alright…you tell me if you feel dizzy or if it hurts okay?” He checked and I nodded.

The second his teeth were in me I knew he was hooked, the moan that left him said enough as the veins danced beneath his eyes and he swallowed my blood down like an addict.

It drove his obsession through the roof and he found himself needing it more and more. As soon as I was offering he was latched onto my arm just like I had expected.

It was all too easy to have him feel like he saved me. Just had to put myself in a couple risky positions for him to swoop in and suddenly he never wanted to leave my side.

Only downside was it was hard to have any time when he wasn’t watching me to plan my attack on him.

So I had to move slow, unbearably slow. But eventually I had it set up. Turns out the Lockwoods have more than one underground cellars and they’re hidden all around.

I chose one furthest out in the woods and told him I had planned something special for us. Of course he probably expected a date of sorts, most likely didn’t think I would be kidnapping him.

I felt a little bad when I stabbed him in the back with a high concentration of wolfsbane and vervain but at the same time it was for the best. The group were planning to kill him and for once their planned actually sounded promising and I didn’t like that. It was more risky to let them go through with it than for me hide him. Besides it’s only temporary…

Lets say he wasn’t too pleased to wake up in chains, apparently it wasn’t one of his kinks,yet.

But really I think he was more upset that I wasn’t the sweet little flower that he thought I was.

His first question was who enchanted the chains but he knew. He just didn’t want it to be true.

“Sweetheart I don’t understand…if you had all this…power why hide it from me? Why do this now?” He gestured to the cage he trapped in.

“The Salvatores have another plan. But this one was a little too promising and I couldn’t risk them getting you.” I told him with a weak smile, still keeping my distance so he couldn’t get too mad

“So you have me here…so they don’t kill me?” He trailed a little confused and I nodded

“Yes and because…I love you and you aren’t very good at keeping yourself safe” I mumbled and he blinked right back at me. I could feel my face getting a little hotter and I glanced to the exit

“Y/n…I love you too, let me out and we can talk about this a little more…well humanly” he muttered with a small and somewhat nervous chuckle.

I sighed as I looked him over, I knew he was trying his best to keep his anger in check and I was beginning to feel a little bad but I was in the right. And it’s not like he wasn’t going to do the same thing to me, I watched him too difference was that he didn’t know it.

“I will…soon just after everything has cooled down okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. You don’t have to worry, you can drink from me or blood bags, you have a mattress and pillow, blankets. What else do you need? I got the fairy lights so it’s not dark. Books, I even got you some canvases and artsy stuff. This place is temporary, just relax for a moment and I’m gonna be back really soon okay?” I had gotten closer to him as I spoke and my hand cupped his face gently.

“You’re leaving? Love, you can’t leave me down here!?” He grabbed my wrist firmly but not painfully however he was still incredibly weak so I easily got out of his grip.

“I have to make sure everyone believes you’ve left” I whispered while leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “I can’t have anyone looking for you”

“Y/n, don’t leave me” he murmured, his forehead pressed to mine making me sigh softly

“It’s not for long klaus, I promise”

“If you love me…you wont do this to me” he mumbled and I hummed

“You act as though you don’t have a room ready in your basement ready for me”

He pulled his head back and frowned at me “how on earth do you know that?”

“Do you think I don’t see you outside my window?” I whispered and his eye’s darkened

“You watch me too?”

“Mhm except I actually go inside, I don’t just wait in the garden”

He stared at me for a moment before a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips “you truly are something else aren’t you sweetheart?” He muttered, the backs of his fingers brushed over my cheek. “What is it you want me to do love?”

“Just stay here until it’s safe…maybe we’ll go somewhere else after, somewhere real far away so it’s just us”

“Okay…how about we start looking, after you go secure your plan?” He kissed my neck softly and smiled down at me

“We can take Elena, for your hybrids if you really want” I whispered hoping if he was just lying to trap me back, I could sway his decisions.

“Nonsense, my hybrids don’t like me anyway, I’d rather just have you my love”

I just hoped it was true, not that it mattered, if he didn’t then I’d just have to get better security measures.

502 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Jade! First of all thank you for bringing back the zombie au, it is my absolute fave! Second, if you are taking requests for it currently, maybe r (with Robin maybe?) goes and finds a gift for Steve just to make him smile (which may or may not make him break into tears with how vulnerable and emotional he's been with all the stuff he's been through?) Thank you for all your lovely writing!

thank you anon! fem!reader, 8k —You, Steve and Robin make a risky trip for non-essentials to improve your quality of life at the camp. Steve's feeling stressed, you try to make it better, and Robin finds a cat in the display section of the mattress store.

tw for zombie apocalypse typical implied violence and gore, food insecurity, injury

"We'll call it something really cool," Robin says, "like Y/N and Robin's ultimate quest for cleanliness."

Robin is a little dirty today. She's scraped her hair back into a tiny ponytail, and it flicks out at the back of her head like a feather duster. You think it's adorable, and you lean around her shoulders to try and touch it. Steve pulls you back bodily.

"Stop touching her," he says.

"Just her hair," you say.

"No, because you know how ansty she is, it's like poking a sleeping dragon."

"Shut up! Shut up, loser, I haven't been antsy at all, I'm planning a girl's trip as we speak."

You laugh and fall back into Steve's arms, the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel tight and your eyes scrunch closed. A girl's trip is definitely one way to put it.

"I'm just saying," Steve says, not just saying at all, "that you're dangerous right now. Next time I'll let her touch your hair and you can bite her hand off."

"She can touch my hair. I don't know if you've noticed, Harrington, but that right there is my very best friend."

And okay, it's not true, Steve and Robin have the strongest friendship you've ever seen, but there is a truth behind it —you and Robin get along well. It would be difficult not to love her, she's a gem, and she cares about the person you care about most in the world at the same level (though in a different calibre).

You worm out of Steve's arms to give her a quick hug. Steve steals you away again and you laugh as you go, flopping your weight onto him and almost knocking him flat onto his back.

You, Robin and Steve are sitting around the campfire in the centre of camp. It's rather big and blissfully hot, the sky a velvet black that hides the smoke. Children sit with droopy eyes to the left, some with parents and most without, though the community is full of good people with great hearts who've swooped in to help look after them. Already, an older woman named Matildhe seems to have gathered a brood of six children, all young, and all wanting cuddles. To the right, Jeremy Livingstone and Joyce Byers plan the unplannable, a map of Michigan at their feet held down by stones. Jonathan sits by his mother's legs with a baby in his lap, her sleeping face pressed to his chest. He taps her back absent-mindedly. "What about here?" he asks, drawing a circle with his finger. Will, his younger brother, moves the flashlight beam to follow his direction.

Despite the fire, the wind bites at your backs, a nippy chill. Steve has solved this by becoming your windbreaker, or so he claims.

"She loves me," you murmur.

"I love her," Robin agrees.

"That's why you can't come on our girl's trip," you say.

"Girls," Steve says, measured, "I'm unsure, but I'm starting to think that you think you're going somewhere without me."

"No, we know you'll crash the party. But we're going to pretend you aren't there," Robin says.

Her chipper attitude makes you laugh for the millionth time tonight. Steve laughs in tandem behind you, his breath fanning warmly over the shell of your ear.

It smells like woodsmoke and pine needles meshed together here, two smells that alone are nice but together give you a headache. You wrinkle your nose and sit up properly, worried about squashing Steve or hurting his bad knee. "The smell is so strong out here," you say.

"Shit, this guy bothering you?" Steve asks, pointing his thumb at the fire.

"Kick his ass, Steve," Robin says.

"Are you losers drunk?" Dustin asks.

You twist on your butt to face him, Steve's favourite sixteen year old standing in the dark wearing two coats and three scarfs.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks. "Come and sit with us."

"We aren't drunk, just happy," you say, gesturing for him to do as Steve said.

Dustin sits by the fire with you, groaning. "What is there to be happy about?"

You bite your top lip. Dustin is so young, and he's lost a lot. More than he ever should've had to lose, twice, his sense of normalcy destroyed. You don't blame him for being depressed over what is possibly the most traumatic thing he will ever have to experience. You don't want to offer him empty platitudes or tell him how to feel, and Steve doesn't want to either, but he can't watch him mope. He loves him too much.

"Dusty," he teases, "don't be so down. Haven't you seen this glorious and ridiculously enormous bonfire we have going on?"

"I see it," Dustin says from behind gritted teeth.

"Hey, do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?" Steve asks, a tad more seriously. "It's warmer with more people, and it's not as crowded as you think it'll be."

"No, thanks."

"You could drag your tent closer," you say, quieter, trying not to smother him or embarrass him with parenting he never asked for.

"I don't like being near the boundary. You guys might be okay with ending up as geek chow but the rest of us have common sense."

"Well, we didn't really have a choice there," Robin says.

Which is true. The kids all get to sleep in tents close to the fire, and the adults are a row behind. You guys aged out of the kids category a long time ago, so you're the ones who'll be eaten first, but you're also the ones who'll hear the can alarms when they ring on the tripwires first.

Steve sleeps with his baseball bat anyhow.

You disentangle yourself from Steve's grips and meet his eyes. He doesn't need you to tell him, but you give him a look that hopefully says, Maybe you should talk to him. Eyebrows raised gently, lips pursed.

Steve sighs like he's preparing himself and shuffles around you. He doesn't begrudge Dustin needing cheering up, you know that. He probably just wishes he could offer Dustin more than, "We have food and water and a place to pee."

Robin crawls right to your side and sets back on her haunches. "Here's what I think we should do."

"Wait, you don't wanna wait for Steve to explain?"

"Nope, he'll say no. Me and you have to find the best way to sell it so we can actually go."

"You aren't kidding about the girl's trip?"

"Nope. Look, the situation is dire. We know where the mall is, we've been there tons of times. The whole group can't go and we don't trust most people to keep us alive anyways, so me, you and Steve will go. We'll sleep there or something too, so there's no pressure on us to rush back and stress out Steve."

"Wouldn't it be safer to hurry back?" you ask.

Robin hums. "Maybe. Uh, if we travel at night like I've been thinking about doing I don't think we could hurry back."

"At night?"

"We're basically nocturnal at this point." You dip your head toward her mildly. She drops the slight facade she'd had, "I would feel better. If we went at night."

The College, the community you and your group had inhabited until recently, was attacked and destroyed by raiders. They were likely drawn by the black smoke of the small bonfire in the quad of the campus, lit to celebrate a quasi-thanksgiving. It wasn't supposed to end up the way it had.

Robin got attacked. Steve was there to help her get away uninjured, earning himself a black eye. She can't sleep if she's by herself anymore. You hate yourself for not being there to protect them.

She's afraid of being attacked by people rather than geeks now. Travelling at night increases the likelihood of dying via geek (you can't see them, they can smell you), but it vastly decreases the chance of meeting other people. It makes sense that a night time excursion is her preference.

You just don't know how you feel about it, and you have no clue how you might convince Steve to go along with it.

"So you want us to hike to the mall at night. Is it on the map? Where even is it?"

"I don't remember the name, Steve'll know it 'cos we've been there, but what matters is that I know for a fact there's a fancy soap store. I need soap, Y/N. I can't take this anymore. And if I don't brush my teeth soon I'm going to scream, my finger can only do so much."

Occasionally three of you take a pea sized dollop of paste and rub it over your teeth in an effort to feel less disgusting, the same way that you wash with a rag and cold water behind the treeline, and dunk your clothes in the river without detergent. Water is a good cleaner, but eventually there's a funk in the clothes that can't be washed out without soap, or Robin's current issue: oily hair.

Without soap and toothbrushes, you feel about as disgusting as a person can feel. If you don't make this trip soon, you'll be in the exact same boat as Robin, one bad stain away from screaming.

"And the fancy soap shop definitely has soap?"

"Definitely. And there's a department store with blankets, too. We could really improve the quality of our miserable lives."

"You don't have to convince me," you say, though it might not hurt in actuality. You're hesitant to leave the camp, but if Robin's leaving she can't go without Steve (who would never let her go alone), or you, because you refuse to be separated from Steve (or her, honestly). "It's Grim Fandango who needs greasing." Grim being Steve.

Steve has managed to wrap an arm around Dustin. You're half-expecting Dustin to be wriggling under his touch, desperate for an escape, a teenage boy allergic to both sincerity and affection, but Dustin's dissolved like jello powder in boiling water, totally slouched into Steve's side. Steve's hand runs the younger boy's upper arm briskly.

"It'll be okay, dude, I promise. We've come this far," Steve says.

"I'm just tired," Dustin says quietly.

"Maybe we should sell it, as uh, an enrichment trip," you suggest to Robin. "We can get stuff for the kids, some board games or something." They need an escape.

"I miss my books," Robin says.

"Holy shit, me too. Steve says you can tell the plot of every Agatha Christie novel from memory, is that true?" you ask.

"Only the good ones. Can I lie down on you?"

You let Robin lie down with her head on your thigh. It can't be comfortable but maybe it's better than the floor, or maybe it's just nice to be close to someone. You like having Robin with you. You'd been so apprehensive of her when you met, not because she was Steve's best friend —though that did worry you to some extent— but because you had trust issues to the neck and she was the first person beside Steve to be nice to you without motivation. In this world, that doesn't check out.

"What ones do you know?"

"Murder on the Orient Express?" she offers.

"Okay. Set the scene, Buckley."

Steve returns just after the detective finds out that Ratchet has been murdered. "I love this part," he says.

"Then let me tell it."

Robin spins for a while, but you peel away from the fire before you're too tired to stand and retreat to your makeshift tent. It's a tarp held up by two sticks and a blanket on the floor, but it works to keep away the rain and most bugs. There's not quite enough room for you three, but there's also literally no other option, and none of you mind. You squeeze in like tinned sardines, sleeping in your coats and shoes.

In the morning, you and Robin attempt to sell your idea to Steve over lukewarm oxtail soup. You and Steve share. Robin had to tip half into a bowl for someone else. The rationing is going okay.

You could've ended up with a can of garden peas, or chopped tomatoes.

"It's actually better if it's only us, you see, because we can sneak around and it'll be much quieter. And they don't need us here right now, everything's settled. And me and Y/N want to so we should."

Steve wraps your hand around the can of soup so you don't touch the hot bottom. He doesn't look like he's even remotely listening to Robin, his eyes on your face and his hands not far behind. He neatens you up, so to speak, scratching a little dirt speck from your cheek and folding the rolled collar of your shirt. "This," he says finally, his hand curling behind your neck, "sounds like a very bad idea."

You shudder happily as he starts to scratch your neck down to your shoulders. "Steve, what's bad about it? We'll be like the Three Musketeers, travelling in darkness, a mission for the people."

"Did you ever read that book?" Steve asks, his hand dropping to your shoulder, where it stays for a reverent second. You look gross and he still wants to squeeze you.

"No," you admit, lips on the sharp edge of your soup. You take a careful sip.

"We get there quickly, spend a night on the mattresses at the department store, and… Hey, why don't we go live in the mall?" Robin asks.

The idea of a real mattress is seductive, but not that much.

"Because we don't want to paint a huge target on our backs?" you ask.

"I'm kidding." Robin peers down at her soup unhappily. "I really hate oxtail."

Steve noticeably flickers. He meets your eyes, and you think he's speaking to you in his head. Fucking hell, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to.

"If you can convince Mrs. Byers to delegate us an actual weapon, then okay, fine, we can go to the mall." He stretches out his mostly healed knee and rubs it with both hands. "Fuck. A knife. Actually, I want each of us to have a weapon. So if you can somehow magic that into being, we can go."

"I don't see why we even had to ask permission," Robin jokes, "like it's the sixties or something." She springs up to her feet, forces her oxtail soup into the hands of one of the preteens by the fire, and beelines for the small crowd of kids surrounding one much taller Joyce.

"You'd still come with us even if you didn't want to," you say.

"Yeah, obviously. Robin's right, this isn't the sixties. That being said, if it was a worse plan, I'd tie you to a tree."

"I could be into that," you tease, pleased when he scoffs through a laugh. His elbow drives into your side. "Stop, fiend."

"No, fiend. Take the force of my elbow." He nudges you.

You elbow back. He elbows harder. You potentially give him a bruise and feel extremely bad when he "Oofs," aloud.

"Sorry," you say, climbing up on your knees to put your arms on his shoulders. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

He shoves you away from him and you're evil, you're selfish, you want him to dote. You fall flat on your back in the dirt and grass, covering your smile with the crook of your elbow so he doesn't immediately know you're fine.

"Shit," he cusses, kneeling between your legs, moving to hover over you. "I didn't mean to knock you down…" He sees your smile. "You lying conniving trickster."

You smile harder, lips pressed together and your chest light as a feather for the first time in days, until suddenly he's squished on top of you and pressing down. "Ow," you fake, wriggling away from him. "I think there's a twig in my brain."

He wriggles with you. "You suck, you made me think I hurt you."

"Don't be a wuss, I get hurt all the time, how do you even know I'm not hurt?"

He sighs all quiet and lifts your head off of the grass. "I can't see through your hair," he says, "did it actually hurt?"

You take his face into your hands. Your fingers are very cold, but he doesn't flinch.

"I'm messing with you, H."

"When did that nickname catch on?"

You rub his cheeks with your thumbs. Fingers behind his ears, you smooth over his short scratchy stubble affectionately. Quick, you lift your chin and touch your lips to his. It's hardly a kiss.

He leans down slowly and makes it a better one.

"Stop," Robin says, kicking you in the ribs. She isn't cruel about it, more of a toe touch.

"Oh, hi, that was a quick rejection," you say, frowning.

Robin beams. "Actually, we've been approved. One knife apiece and a request for children's clothes. Get packing!"

She whizzes off in another direction, seemingly to pack and gather the allocated weaponry.

Steve drops his chin back down to you.

"Does she have secret things we don't know about?" he asks.

You scratch his scalp, "Mm… I'm not supposed to tell you."

He sits up. You frown.

"She really has a secret stash?"

"No, Steve," you laugh. "No, of course she doesn't. Where would she hide them?"

Steve yanks you up by the arm playfully. You pretend to fight him, but it's no use. You'll do anything he wants you to.

—

Steve didn't necessarily think that a hike through the outskirts of an infested city would be easy, but he also hadn't realised it would be this boring. Especially a trip he's already made in the past. Boring and kind of hard.

It's not because you aren't capable —you might've taken a hit when The College collapsed, but you've mostly recovered, and your endurance is good. You have the best survival skills you've ever had, and Robin is similarly ready for whatever it is that might get thrown at you. Too bad preparation doesn't make you a ninja.

He isn't at his peak and he was no man of steel beforehand, and although he was good enough to keep you both alive, he's not sure if it's still true. Plus, he wasn't expecting to feel so moody.

You're marching on like a true warrior next to him, your hand around his wrist and swinging gently, your eyes on the ground. Steve's flashlight carves a weak path through the dusk. Soon, it'll be completely dark, and that's when he imagines his worrying will reach a fever pitch.

For now, he tries to be chill.

"Is my hand not good enough for you?" he asks.

"I figure you can pull away from me quicker if you need to if we're not, like, sewed together."

"You have weird hands," Robin interjects. "They're big. I wouldn’t hold them either.”

"That's why they're nice hands, Robin," you say. "Well, maybe they're just nice because I love him."

"I love him. Mostly. He still has weird hands," she says.

"You don't get it," you say.

You wrap your arms around his bicep and hug it quickly before backing away again. He thinks you kiss his coat, but he really can't tell.

"I don't think I want to get it," Robin says.

You're quieter when you ask, "Is that really true? You don't want to be in love?"

In the dark, and at night, it's quiet. It's nearly always quiet everywhere you go nowadays, but it feels immense this far from the camp. Steve is on edge. Too distracted for heart to hearts. But he wants to know the answer too, so he stays nice and quiet.

"I love that you're in love," Robin says lightly. "And I love you both. But I've seen you guys when you think you're going to lose each other, and surviving is hard enough without… that."

You let your hand slide down to his hand, your palm flat to the top, not holding it but holding him.

Steve clears his throat. "It's worth losing my mind every time she decides to wander off because of the peace she gives me when we're together."

"The peace?" Robin asks. She sounds like she wants to be incredulous but his sincerity has tripped her up.

"I'm with her and…" He can see the side of your face in the flashlight. You're smiling shyly, your gaze on the grass beneath your shoes. Footsteps rustle in the gap of his words. "I don't want to be anywhere else as long as she's there."

"It sounds like a toothache," Robin says.

"You know, I used to get bad toothaches all the time before we found you, and Steve made me a teeth guard out of a leather armchair with a pen knife and a needle and thread."

"Did you just make that up? Trying to convince me about the magic of love?" Robin asks.

"No, he really made it for me, I used to keep it in my nightstand," you say. He can hear your smile.

He made it because watching you cry from toothache left him feeling powerless. A guy who'd never even held a needle and thread before bent over his lap with a flashlight in the hours while you slept until his eyes burned because watching you sniffle made him feel sick. He can't describe the ache of it, loving you but not having kissed you, or even really told you, his girl so stressed at night your jaw had locked tight and you were reduced to whimpers each morning. Having to watch you pretend it wasn't happening until you couldn't, until you broke down crying with your hand wrapped around his wrist like it is now. Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I just– I want– I don't know– I can't–

He was useless. He was stupid. He could barely bring himself to rub your back because he thought another touch might knock you over.

Calm down, honey, he'd murmured. Just calm down.

He never could've imagined seeing you cry like that before he did. You couldn't move. You explained it like a headache when words became feasible again, which, Steve's had headaches; concussive migraines that were white hot and everywhere. So he could imagine it even if he'd never felt it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. Willing to try anything, he'd even wondered if he could pull your tooth out himself. Mouth surgery is prone to infection, and he couldn't face levelling that amount of pain onto you personally. So rather than fix the tooth, he'd have to fix the stress. He couldn't fix the stress, so he looked for anything at all to ease the pain. Ibuprofen, codeine, even a course of antibiotics. And then, finally, the leather mouth guard. Leather stacked and sewed with sanitised, loving hands.

"It's weird what that kind of love can bring out of you," Steve says quietly, matching the surroundings. "I did a great job. I'm a seamstress."

Robin pretends to throw up generously and noisily. Steve shushes her. You, in a very good mood with no signs of calming down, laugh behind your hand.

"I can make you another one," he offers. He hadn't thought about it yet, but of course you don't have it anymore. Anything in your nightstand is lost forever.

"You might need to. I'll be a stressed mess all over again if we don't find some socks, I can feel my ankle bone piercing the back of my shoes," you say. No socks either.

Robin's flashlight turns quickly to the right. You and Steve flinch at the same time to guard the other, peering in the exposed direction. There aren't many trees around here, so all to be seen is yellow-green grass and empty air.

"Sorry, I got the heebies," Robin says. "Maybe it was your disgusting declarations of love."

"Hardy-har. Where the fuck do you think we are right now?" Steve asks.

"Wait, you don't know?" you ask.

"You have the map," he says back.

"Oh, right. But how do we navigate in the dark? We don't have a compass."

"I have the compass!" Robin announces.

"From where?" you ask.

"How did you think we'd get there in the dark, angel?" Steve asks you genuinely.

He doesn't have time to wonder if it's okay to call you angel. He's never done it before, but it felt right in the moment. You're kind of like an angel, protective and sweet and a symbol for goodness.

"I thought because you guys already knew where it was– we– we set off while it was still light! I assumed we'd just walk straight."

Steve and Robin laugh at you, but not without love.

You pretend to sulk for a while, though you shine your flashlight at the map when he asks, your arm threaded through his and face leaning on his shoulder. "I'm so confused," you mumble.

"Don't worry. I know where we are now," he says.

"No, I know where we are too, but I'm confused as to why I thought this was a good idea."

"This is a good idea because I've had greasy hair for two weeks and I feel like a worm," Robin says. "And we need blankets, and moisturiser, and to feel like real people."

Steve has a better list than that. He needs moisturisers for your cracked hands, antiseptic for the healing cut on your thigh. He needs shaving foam or at the least a goddamn razor, a new shirt, you both need underwear and you're in dire need of shoes that fit. He wouldn't mind a compression support for his knee, a pair of scissors, and most of all a box of cigarettes —a quick trip to the pharmacy would fix a lot of problems.

"I feel pretty real."

"You're real pretty," Steve says quickly.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Kiss?" you cheer, delighted at his swift wit.

Steve knows —he knows— you're putting on a brave face for him. He cried on your shoulder and you haven't cried since. You're being the strong one. You're trying to make it work.

You've always been the strong one. Steve has taken care of you so many times; held your hand in torrential rain when you were too tired to go on; scrambled through rotten floorboards to find you on your back and unconscious, fed you water in your sleep half-worried you were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's fought for you, the dead and the living —he would do worse for you. But you've done the impossible, surviving every ache and pain, coming back from things he didn't think you would. You crawled through glass for him. You stumbled in the dark bleeding and exhausted to do as he asked, to meet him at the end of an endless day.

He gives you the kiss you asked for. There's only one clue that you aren't as happy as you seem. Your breath catches as he leans down, like you thought he might not give you one after all.

It takes you hours to get there and way longer than you thought. You don't realise you're upon it until the grass turns to roads under your feet, and the road turns to parking lot. There's a shattering of glass spread over the floor like a spilled bag of salt that crunches under your shoes. Steve grips your elbow and the three of you creep inside past the doors. They're open, which is bad and good. Bad because someone's been here since the last time, and might still be inside. Good, because Steve's not sure any of you have the energy to open them.

"I don't think I have to say this, but please, let's whisper from here," Steve suggests.

"Damn, do we have to?" Robin whispers. "I was just about to start my rendition of Singing in the Rain."

You laugh through your nose.

"We'll go up to the bedding store, okay? And we'll grab some blankets, and then we'll find a storage room and barricade ourselves in."

"Steve, I wanna sleep on a mattress," Robin whines.

"But we don't know who's here," he says. "Buckley, I swear, I'll carry a mattress back to camp for you if that's what you want, but we have to live to see the morning first."

"It's not like we haven't done it before," you say, nudging her gently. "Can we go back to whispering? I'm really nervous. I don't want to attract anything."

"Sorry," Robin whispers.

Being outside in the dark had felt horrifying but mostly manageable. Being inside is terrifying too, and though your flashlights make it easy to navigate now that there's walls for the light to reflect off of, it's scarier knowing this is an enclosed space. You can only run so far in either direction.

Your fingers twist in the corner of his hoodie. He doesn't say anything. For a split second, he remembers you doing it in the past, before he'd even thought about kissing you, when you were scared and he was more angry than anything else (though not usually at you). He'd pretend he didn't feel it. He was a bitch but he was never cruel, and if you needed to scrunch the hem of his jacket in your hand to feel better then that was alright.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"I'm okay. I think my cut is weeping."

"What?" he asks, head clicking as he turns to you. "Since when?"

"Not sure, it just feels weird, like it's wet."

"This is the kind of thing I'd love to know." Steve sighs. "The bedding place is up here somewhere. You can let me take a look at it."

You, Steve and Robin walk up the frozen escalators, your footsteps making banging metal sounds that echo through what feels like the entire mall. Hackles raised, Steve ushers you both into the bedding store, pulling Robin by the sleeve before she can stop to deliberate over blankets to the very back of the store where a door demarcates the Staff Only room.

"Listen," he whispers, "we are going to go in there back to back, just like we always do. Robs, I promise, as soon as I've checked her leg, I'll help you do whatever you want. Cool?"

"My leg is fine."

"If it gets infected, I know for a fact there aren't any antibiotics here," he says. They've looked. "We have to stay in front of it. Are you ready?"

"Steve, we're not amateurs," Robin says. She hums. "Okay, I might be, but you owe Y/N some respect."

"No, I'm an amateur."

"You're not an amateur," Steve says. "Girls, please."

"Can we veto 'girls'? I want to be dudes," Robin says.

"Robin–"

"Okay, okay! Let's do it."

—

You wake up with the driest mouth in the world, your head bumping from hunger and bad sleep —the floor still feels like the floor, no matter how many pillows you have— to sounds just outside of the door.

You hike up on elbows and feel your heart climb into your mouth. Steve's hand is on your neck, and Robin's foot is over your calf, and this is a very bad time to be locked in, especially weighed down as you are by fleece blankets.

"Steve," you whisper, blindly reaching out with your own hand. You accidentally smack him in the face with the base of your thumb. "Oh, shit, sorry. Steve, there's something outside."

He's impressively alert when he opens his eyes. He couldn't have been sleeping deeply. "What kind of something?" he whispers back, sitting up.

He pushes the blankets away and climbs onto his knees. The noise happens again, quickly followed by a smash and a third sound like a thump.

Robin flinches awake next to you. You put your hand on her shoulder, hoping it says, Hey, it's fine, you're fine.

"Where's your bag?" Steve asks you, standing up tall.

It's disgusting, but you're holed up in the employee bathroom. As far from the toilet and sinks as physically possible but with a buffer from the door. Staying in a storage closet hadn't been possible, the staff room door hanging off the hinges enough to not close, and the storage room a medium space crammed to bursting with mattresses and shelves of sheets that wobbled threateningly when touched.

Your bag is somewhere under the blankets. You scramble onto your knees and search for it. You'd put your things away for the sake of neatness. Silly move.

"Here," you say, pulling out a flashlight for Steve. He takes it into one hand, pen knife in the other unsheathed. "It's probably a geek."

"Yeah. Can you put your shoes on?" he asks, not unkindly.

You shake yourself and do as he asks you to. Robin helps you up. Steve creeps to the door, waiting for you both before he opens it into the main floor.

"I don't think we need the torch," Robin says.

Daylight illuminates the room through the windows set in the west wall. You all squint and step out, arms in defensive positions, treading softly so as not to be heard.

Another thump. You can't hear footsteps, exactly, just the occasional, irregular thump. Geeks are usually noisier. Dragging steps. They'll walk into walls if they're following a specific scent.

Steve turns to you both and raises his eyebrows. Brace yourselves.

He hits the butt of the knife into the wall three times.

Nothing shows itself. You stand frozen for a few minutes anyways, even when Steve and Robin decide they want to venture further into the room and scope out the place. You watch their backs, heart still pounding and with no signs of stopping.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve curses.

“What?” you and Robin hiss at the same time.

“Come here. Y/N, come over here,” he says, like you aren’t already half-way across the floor to meet them.

Steve gestures at a showcase bed with velvet purple sheets. They’re not even dusty, no signs of time or wear, nothing to speak of a different age. Nothing, that is, beside the dead bird on the pillowcases, and the carpeting of fur surrounding it. It's odd for Steve to point you towards any gore, and you're a tad shocked, until he takes your forearm in his hand and pulls you in front of him. "See?" he murmurs.

He points to the pillow. You follow his finger.

Robin speaks first. Correction, Robin squeaks first.

"Is that a cat?" she asks, all the excitement of her discovery squashed tightly into a frankly impressive whisper-shout.

Robin refuses to move after that. She begs Steve for some of the dried jerky (of unknown origin and animal) from the rucksack and lays down on her stomach when the tugged tabby you've found flees beneath the bed frame. "Here, kitty," she murmurs, her gentlest tones. "Come on, killer, I need your help."

Steve nudges you.

"Oh, you're talking to me?" you ask Robin.

"I need your help," Robin insists, looking at you from over her shoulder. Her hair is limp around her face, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. "She has to know we're all friends."

"Watch my back?" you ask Steve.

He sits on the end of the bed, "Don't have to ask."

You set down carefully next to Robin and peer under the bed for the tabby. Your arrival has scared her half to death.

"Maybe she's only used to seeing geeks," you say.

"Maybe she thinks we're geeks," Robin says agreeably.

"Me and Steve found a dog once, but he wouldn't let us touch. He begged for food and then he ran away," you say.

"The dog wouldn't let you touch him, or Steve wouldn't let you touch the dog?" Robin asks, waving the jerky around.

"A bit of both."

"Kitty," Robin sings.

"Oh, god, this is comfy as fuck," Steve mumbles, laying down in bed. "Robin, you have to get up and watch your six, babe."

You and Robin laugh in sync and aloud at his 'babe'. It's you who stands and continues taking mild guard. You're not worried about intruders anymore, thinking that any company would have presented itself already, but you like keeping them safe. You take check of every corner of the room, spinning in the world's slowest circle. Robin baby talks to the cat under the bed while offering scraps of jerky. Steve, having curled away from the bird, lets his fingertips brush your thigh each time you turn.

"Getting dizzy?" he asks.

"Yes. And hungry, too, which is a weird feeling together. Can I have some of the jerky?"

Steve offers the bag. "If you're hungry, eat what you want, but if you can keep it to a little portion just in case we can't find anything else, honey…"

You stop spinning so much to eat jerky. You eat more than you should, you hunger a cruel, sharpened thing that jabs from your stomach and up into your diaphragm. You hand Steve back the bag before you can eat someone else's share and decide to focus on the other negatives in your life, like your shoes.

"Can we look for shoes soon?" you ask.

"Yeah, honey," Steve says. Honey, honey. His voice is soft with an ever-present fatigue.

"I don't think this cat likes me very much," Robin says, still singing.

"She's just scared. Maybe if we leave and come back again she'll realise we're friendly," Steve says.

"Yes sir." Robin stands, brushing herself down. "Oh, ew, Steven, how can you lie there? You know the cat's probably spayed all over that bed, right?"

Steve springs up. "Okay, ew."

“It’s okay,” she says. “Let’s go get some new clothes.”

It’s harder than it should be. The three of you move from store to store on high alert for what has to be an hour, searching for practical, fitting clothes. The time for modesty is over, and you take turns changing in front of one another while the others make sure you aren’t about to become naked geek feed. You’re so unclean that putting clean clothes on feels wrong, but you do it anyhow. You double back to the store with suitcases and bags and fill a suitcase to bursting point with the clothes that Joyce requested for the children. You sit yourselves down at some point, always exhausted, to try on sneakers. The relief of finding and changing into a pair that fits cannot be understated. When you’re sure there’s at least pants and a sweater for every child, you pack up and head for the fancy soap shop.

Robin is ecstatic. Ideally, you can all carry one bag on your shoulders and pull one suitcase, so you each fill a bag with soaps and brushes and powders, figuring that if you find food or medication worth carrying you can empty one of the bags rather than double back.

“I’m sorry we didn’t actually sleep on a mattress,” Steve says.

Robin shrugs nonchalantly, kicking aside an empty helium tank with her foot as you pass by a card and gift store. She’s grown less happy as time goes on, unsatisfied with the day's events. Finding nice soap hadn’t felt important with no water around to use it. The cat was rabid, you’re all living off of jerky and river water, and now you have to hike home again in the dark, hours of fear and tenseness.

“I miss your car,” Robin says.

You hadn’t ever been in Steve’s car, but you say, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should find a real tent,” Steve says, apparently not listening.

“Isn’t that kind of mean?” Robin asks.

“I mean, if the others wanted a tent, they could’ve come.”

“I don’t think it's mean,” you say. “But I don’t see how we can carry it.”

“I can carry it,” Steve says. “Just a small one. Big enough for us.”

“Does us include me?” Robin asks.

Steve laughs. “Duh, it includes you. It’s Y/N that’s gonna have to sleep outside.”

“Or me and her can have the tent and you can be our watchdog.”

“We can’t, um, stay outside forever, right?” you ask quietly.

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “No, we can’t. We’ll find somewhere permanent soon. There’s barely any geeks the more we get into Michigan, who knows. Maybe there's none at all up top. But…" He lets you go. "I'll find somewhere."

"Steve, you sound ridiculous," Robin says. "'I'll find somewhere,'" she quotes, voice deepened.

Robin might joke, but you feel reassured by Steve's promise. You keep your head up for the rest of the day.

—

Later, much later, when you've travelled back to the camp with aching everythings and taken the world's coldest bath in the river nearby, you, Robin and Steve pitch your brand new tent and near collapse. It was night when you finally reached the camp that day, and so it was morning by the time you laid down. Steve has to admit that bathing and building a tent in the dark had been fun, annoying and indicative of the situation but a pleasure anyhow, to hear his favourite people in the whole world trying not to shriek at the cold water, overjoyed and laughing as you finally washed your face with real soap, and terrified that the river would knock you down.

You're shaking with the cold now in his arms, practically sitting on his thigh as you brush his still damp hair back from his eyes.

"I can't believe you're still cold," he says, kissing the line of your jaw affectionately.

Robin, despite hours without sleep, had volunteered to help Sarah corral the younger kids for some early breakfast. Steve thinks it's because she likes Sarah. Your theory was that she's generous enough to give you a half hour of privacy. She's good like that.

Whatever it is, you're alone for the first time in days. It's no different than when you're with friends, only you're touchier and Steve's an honest fool.

You wrap one of your new blankets tighter around your shoulders and shift. "Am I hurting you?"

"Nope." He squeezes you tightly to his front. "You're shivering. Put your hands under my shirt."

You do it quickly, smiling like he's given you the world. "'Member when you'd let me do this? Even when we weren't really dating?"

"We were dating," he says.

"What, before or after the taco truck incident?"

"Before," he says sharply. He pauses. "Alright, maybe not then. But we were definitely dating when you'd put your hands in my shirt. You don't do that for just anyone, I'm not a run around."

"Steve, you used to let me sleep in your lap. Like, a month after we met."

"'Cos you get so damn cold," he says. You're still shivering. He rests his cheek against your neck. "If I didn't let you, you'd spend the whole night shivering and making these really sad sounds."

He's not even teasing. Just being honest.

"I'm sensitive," you say.

"You're used to sleeping indoors like a normal person."

You ease off of his lap. He doesn't want you to; he'd keep you close forever. Plus, he feels guilty cuddling you in front of Robin because he knows public displays are uncomfortable, so he wants to really take you in while he can.

"I have something to tell you," you say.

"Oh?"

"Or, something to give you. But I can tell you something if that matters."

"Tell me anything." Everything. He wants to know everything you have to say.

"Well… well, before this happened…" You rummage through the bag you'd brought home with you, the tip of your tongue peaking out. "You know, before the world half ended, I wasn't– I don't know if I can say it."

"Please?" he asks.

You pull something into your hand. "Alright. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love. And then the world ended, and I really didn't think I would, but you found me and I love you, so it wasn't true."

He thinks about it. You, years ago, when he'd see you in the halls at school or walking home. He doesn't have much recollection of you beyond that, but it aches in a weird way to think you'd been walking around feeling like you wouldn't be loved.

Steve licks his lips. "I get it, because I kind of worried the same thing. Like I'd keep loving people more than they loved me."

"And then you met Robin?"

"Exactly. She taught me more about love as my best friend than any of the girlfriends I had."

"Well, I didn't get a Robin back then, but I have you now, and I guess I want you to know it's important to me," you say. "I know things are so hard right now, I know," —you clear your throat as emotion creeps in to your tone— "you put on a brave face for me. I know you're tired. But I keep going for you, and you keep going for me, and I want you to have something so you remember that even if I'm… not around."

Steve sits up straight. "Hey, you're not going anywhere."

You blink rapidly.

"Where is it that you think you're going without me?" he asks, softer.

"Nowhere. But I just need you to know how much I loved you."

"Love," he corrects.

"How much I love you," you agree, sniffling. You look around at the tent floor, your shoulders raised just so. "Sorry, I'm not gonna cry or anything, I just hate thinking about it."

You hand him something wrapped in a new sock. He bites his lip to stop from laughing at the wrapping and unpeels his gift.

It's a watch. Silver, heavy, glass unscathed and hands tick tick ticking. Steve doesn't know if the time is accurate. His old watch broke a long time ago, but this one looks vaguely similar.

"You gave me a necklace, once, with a little diamond. I know I don't have it anymore, I shouldn't have taken it off. But you gave it to me when I was miserable, and I know you're not miserable, but–"

"I am," he says, rubbing his thumb over the watch. There's a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the clock face. He has no idea why, but the idea that you saw it and remembered his gift that long ago, that you wanted him to know you love him, that pays for some truth. "I'm miserable. I'm so scared for us." He breathes out hard. "Sorry."

Steve's eyes tear up. He tries not to let it show, but he's looking down at the watch and his vision is blurring, and he's thinking Fuck, fuck, I'm crying in front of her again.

You shuffle across the plastic floor toward him and clutch his hand. He's shaking minutely. You must feel it.

"It's okay, baby," you murmur.

He ducks his head.

"It's okay. I know," you say.

"I know that you know," he says.

"But it's hard," you prompt.

"Yeah."

You needle your arm behind his neck and him close. He can't hold back anymore, throwing his arms around your waist because why would you say that stuff to him? You're so evil, you're horrible, you're the very best thing that's ever happened to him and he loves you and what if you do die? Nobody will ever, ever be like you. There's no one out there with your smile, nobody who turns at the sound of his voice as you do, happy before you've set eyes on him and ecstatic when you have.

And if you live (please, God, if you live), Steve wants to give you a better life than this. He's constantly panicking because he doesn't know how.

But you don't mind. You don't love him less for the situation.

"I don't even know what to tell you," you say, stroking the hair at the back of his neck tenderly, "cos I tell you I love you so much it doesn't feel like what I mean. I love you. I love you, Steve."

He hugs you until he's not crying, wishing his cheeks would dry themselves when he finally raises his head and kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he says roughly.

Steve sits back and wipes his nose. You offer the sock. He laughs and bats it away.

"I love you, too," he says. He thrusts his wrist at you. "Strap me in?"

You fasten Steve's watch and, in what's becoming a theme, you kiss his pulse.

"Sorry things have been so hard," you say, adjusting the watch until it's sat comfortably.

"You make it easier."

"Guys!" Robin says, forcing her way into the tent with an exuberant smile on her face. There's something in her arms, a wriggling mass of matted fur. "Look! The cat followed us home! I'm gonna name him Stinkyboy! Or Shark. Get up, I need help catching a fish!" She waves the cat's paw at you both. "I knew he liked me!"

—-

the Steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

540 notes · View notes

dreamtuna · 11 months ago

Text

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday

Attack on Titan - Levi x Reader || fluff, gender neutral reader

I wanted to post a lot more of these Christmas pieces but my brain hasn't been in writing mood until literally today. So hopefully a few little gifties for you guys the next couple of days, including some spicy ones

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest as you knocked on his office door. You’d be warned not to do this but you found yourself here regardless, one hand grasping the messily wrapped package behind your back. Listening to advice had never been one of your strong suits, and neither was wrapping presents it seems.

“Enter.”

You opened the door, sticking your head inside.

“Sorry to bother you, Captain, I know it’s late.”

Levi looked up at you from above his papers, one eyebrow raised and looking utterly irritated with your presence. He motioned for you to come in, sighing.

Shutting the door with one hand, you were careful not to let your gift be seen. You weren’t sure how he would take it after everyone had warned you he wasn’t much of a Christmas person. Images of him throwing it back at you and shouting you out of the room invaded your mind.

“I’m surprised to see you working late. It’s Christmas Eve.”

He glared up at you. “These still need doing. And right now you’re stopping me from finishing them.”

Well, this wasn’t the best start. Without letting things get any worse, you produced the present from behind your back, smiling at him. “Merry Christmas, Captain.”

He actually recoiled from your offering. After what seemed an eternity he took it with uncertain hands but rather than doing anything with it he just stared at it, eyebrows furrowed.

“Ah, you can, uhm, open it,” you encouraged him, starting to fidget now, shifting from foot to foot as a delicate pink spread across your cheeks.

Levi glanced up at you briefly and began to unwrap it. “Was this meant to be a bow?”

“Listen, this isn’t exactly something I’ve had a lot of practice doing.”

Inside the paper was a thick, black scarf. Levi ran his hand over it, his fingers trailing over the soft wool, seemingly mesmerised by the texture.

“Your scarf seemed like it had seen better days,” you offered by way of explanation. “I thought perhaps you would want to replace it.”

He nodded, pulling it fully out of the wrapping. With a loud clunk, a small box fell to his desk from within the scarf.

“And uh, happy birthday, sir.”

Levi’s head whipped up at this, eyes finding yours and capturing you in his dark scowl. “Who told you?”

“Hange.”

He scoffed. “Typical.”

Inside the box was a small, silver feather backed onto a pin. He glared down at it and after placing it down on his desk he told you to leave. You weren’t sure whether you had done the right thing, but there was no room in his voice for questioning. Maybe you had gone too far, maybe it was too much. Maybe he hated it. A quiet voice snapped you out of the spiral that was threatening to pull you down.

“Thank you.”

After that day you noticed his scarf had been swapped out for his new one, his face often burying itself behind the gentle wool when the winds picked up, and that small, silver feather on his uniform caught the light everywhere he went. Maybe he liked it after all.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #aot x reader #dream writes #dream writes: short

162 notes · View notes

majorproblems77 · 5 months ago

Text

Happy birthday Chosen

Writing I did for myself. Thought I'd share it with you all. :)

Sky was a sentimental guy, all of the links agreed on that much. Always going out of his way to make them smile or give them comfort when they otherwise wouldn't have had it.

So when the conversations of birthdays came up no one thought anything of it. Each one of them had something different from lighting cakes on fire to giving favourite foods, getting to choose destinations or just getting to have a day to rest. Each one of the links had a different way of celebrating.

The rest day sounded like Sky's favourite version if he had to admit.

"I always choose to go to my private island so the crew can have a day to relax! We dont get that way very often, but they love it!" Wind smiled, counting something on his fingers. "But my birthday isn't for some time yet."

"What about you Sky? What do you people do for birthdays?" The captain smiled over the fire towards the Skylofitan, who placed a hand to his chin.

"Well, we gather the town. And our loftwings gift us with a feather Before we get things from other people."

"Your loftwings moult?"

"Yeah? They are about the same age as us, normally to the day. And they shed only a few feathers twice a year. On their birthdays and six or so months later."

"I'd have thought they would all shed at a time of year. Like my cat does. So much fur..." The captain shuddered while the rancher laughed.

"Captain you have a cat? You never told me you had a cat." The captain nodded

the skyloftian chuckled, "You'd think, but imagine the amount of feathers that would litter skyloft of that was the case."

The captain thought about it, "That's surprisingly nice of the goddess."

The skyloftian pulled his bag from behind him, pulling out a singular red feather. "You guys have seen me wear this. And it's got two purple feathers near the top of it."

The group nodded. Hyrule, who was sitting beside the skyloftian looked closely at the feather as it shifted across the skyloftians hand.

"Those purple feathers belong to Zelda's loftwing. It was her gift to me last year." He smiled looking off to the side slightly. "Iris even picked the ones for me herself. It was very sweet of her." The skyloftian smiled down at the feathers. Carding them through his fingers.

"When is your birthday anyway Sky? We've all figured out ours but not yours?" Legend asked, knocking the skyloftian's shoulder as he looked beside him.

"Oh, thats nothing to worry about."

"Skyyyyyyy. Tell ussssssss." The sailor stood up and walked over to the skyloftian flinging his arms around him from behind. "Or I'll bug you all night about it."

"We have a different calendar to you, even if I told you you wouldn't know when it was."

"All the more reason to tell us Sky!" Hyrule knocked the skyloftian, "I know we haven't got much and this journey is a tough one. But it'll be good to know!"

The skyloftian sighed. "From my assumptions, and watching how the sun moves, it's today?" Gasps went across the group as they all sat upright. A chorus of words ran across the team.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sky!"

"Come on now chosen!"

"You could have told us!"

"We've had a busy day. That last battle took it out of us. I wanted to make sure you were all okay."The skyloftain smiled raising a hand behind his head only to find the sailor still gripping him. Now even tighter.

"I dont believe a word of that." Sky looked up to see Time looking intently towards him. "Tomorrow we are absolutely doing something, No questions asked" Time smiled.

"But we are less than a day out from the ranch Time. I wouldn't want to keep us."

"Who said you were keeping us." Time turned to the group, "Tomorrow is a rest day. We will make our way to the ranch the day after. Now get some rest all of you."

Sky nodded and stood up, the sailor still firmly attached to him. chuckling he flung his arms under the sailor's legs to carry him on his back and walked them over to their bedrolls. Placing the sailor down before he himself lay down to rest.

The following morning was bright and cheery. The sun shone warm and bright through the trees.

The camp was bustling with activity. Everyone was awake and working to pack up as quickly as they could.

All apart from one, and they planned to keep it that way.

Sky was resting soundly on his bedroll. Having fallen asleep quite quickly the night before.

"Okay Twilight, It's about an hour to the ranch. You reckon you can carry him?" Time asked, Flinging the rancher's bag across his shoulder.

"I've got this. Let's get him into an actual bed." The rancher raised a hand, signalling the captain who nodded. Pointing into the trees to the wide space of Hyrule field. Before coming over.

"Wild has gone on ahead, he should be about done by the time we get there if we walk quickly."

"Then let's go!" The sailor bounced over, smiling wide. "This is going to be the best birthday present ever for him."

The skyloftian was lifted and placed onto the Rancher's back, arms wrapped around his neck and sailcloth wrapped around him.

The walk was uneventful, as the team made they're way across Hyrule field into the ranch.

Malon and Wild were waiting at the door when they turned into the ranch. Malon smiled and waved, opening the door for the rancher and following him in to help get Sky into a bed.

"Pumpkin pie and soup. Ready to go when he is. Did you guys get here alright?" Wild looked over the team briefly, who gave nods of encouragement.

"We did." The captain said, "Now I'm going to get this bag down I forget how much Sky actually carries."

As he walked inside. wind called out to him, "Dont forget to put the master sword in with him. He gets nightmares without it!"

The captain waved in acknowledgement as he walked into the ranch house.

"Wonderful, now it's time for the presents. four, there's a forge, that me and malon use to make new horseshoes. Will that be enough for you?" Time smiled pointing across the field where the sight of a small smithing table could be seen.

The smith nodded, looking in the same direction "Anything works. Legend, Wind and Hyrule. You guys are with me." He pointed to each of them in turn before looking to Time. "Do you have steel?"

"We do. We should have had a shipment recently. And Malon's sent Talon to the town to grab some gemstones."

"good. I'm going to need a few hours." Time nodded as the small team turned away walking towards the forge around the side of the horse field.

"Now we keep Sky asleep."

"Leave that to me." Time pat the blue ocarina on his waist, "There's that melody he plays a lot. And I think I've learnt it."

With tasks in hand, each group want to do their respective tasks.

When Sky awoke it wasn't to the sun gently kissing his face, but he could hear the gentle melody of Zelda's lullaby gently floating through his ears.

Reaching out in front of him he found Fi's blade, a gentle smile drifting across his face he reached out for it. when his hand contacted something soft.

The sailcloth. Right. tucking it into himself he smiled.

He felt. Well rested, for the first time in a long time.

"Afternoon."

Afternoon?

Afternoon!

"Wha..?" He shot up quickly taking in his surroundings. this was the ranch, How had they gotten to the ranch? When had they?

"Hey... relax, we decided to let you sleep in today." Time stood up, walking over to the bed as he offered a hand. "the others have something to show you."

He took the offered hand. "Sorry for sleeping in..."

"It's no bother. Twilight carried you here. We thought it would be nicer for you to sleep in an actual bed." He directed Sky out of the room and downstairs.

"Happy birthday Sky!"

The first thing he saw was a flash of blue as two arms enveloped him.

the sailor...

"come on! We've got some stuff for you!" He said, pulling at the skyloftians's arm as he was walked into the room. a small pile of boxes on the centre table.

"Come on Come on Come on!"

Various gifts were handed to him as excited voices sounded. He got an enchanted ring from legend, a small pressed flower from Hyrule. A drawing of crimson from Wind, and a new sword sheath band from Warriors, Time and Twilight.

"Sorry, you couldn't be home for crimson to give you a feather. But. We made you this." Four stepped forward, holding a small box. "We all worked on it. thought you could use it for your woodworking?"

The skyloftian looked towards the smith before looking down at the box.

Lifting the lid he found a silver blade the same size as the carving knife. It was a relatively short blade with a small indent made into the blade itself. Inside lay a singular red crystal, the Handle of the blade was wrapped in a leather grip. A beautifully simple blade. he held it up to the light above him.

Then he traced his thumb over the guard. And found the taletale feeling of a rachis. The guards, fashioned to look like feathers were wide enough to be practical while also looking beautiful. The detail in their design almost made him want to not use the blade.

Though inspecting it further he discovered it a perfect sharpness for his woodwork. So that idea might be getting scrapped.

"I... This is beautiful." He smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The smith smiled, the veteran and the traveller beside him. "Happy birthday Sky."

And Sky smiled.

52 notes · View notes

creepy-friday · 2 years ago

Note

Can we get some cute and sweet father Slenderman and daughter reader headcanons? Like slendy finally steps up and starts acting like a father, I want them to have a sweet father/daughter bond 😫🫶 (can you tell that this screams daddy issues in 40 languages LMAO)

Of course!I'm sorry if I made this too angsty,I couldn't help myself

Slenderman x Daughter!Reader

The static stopped.For one month since you were bought to this hellhole,you had to fight the constant screaming of white sound-all until today,when it suddenly..stopped.

You had seen "it" before,the tall creature in all of their eerie presence,their non existential features being engraved inside your memory since the first day.

You couldn't help but feel a sacred bond between the two of you,a warm blood-like one,the familiar feeling only adding to your doubts.

This day one of the masked men came to your room and mentioned your visit to the last floor of the mansion.

He made the effort to look almost presentable in a not frightening way.It was like how a new father would act with his newborn daughter-like a florist holds the most delicate and fragile flower.

"Are you feeling allright?" you finally heard his voice and a cold shiver ran down your spine.The faceless creature spoke to you inside your own head.

You simply nodded and you could hear his whisper-wind-like voice once more inside your head."Good."

You wanted to scream at him,to lash out and ask the tall creature why you were snatched from your own little world there,but you didn't dare to.Instead you just furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"Something wrong?" he tapped his long fingers on the table of his office,his own gesture seeming to irritate himself.

"No." you simply responded.A few moments of pure silence passed before he let you go back to that damned room.The truth is-after your leave he stayed with his palm on his forehead for a minute.

The creature's non existential heart seemed to shallow him whole.

He tried to make himself known to you more and more,by giving you small gifts on your bedside every morning with a neat folded letter attached to them.

The gifts could be plushies,empty agendas,fruits you enjoyed and simple photos of the beautiful world

One day you could hear the faint static again and simply demanded "stop watching me." and he responded with a simple "allright." and the sounds stopped once more.

You were allowed to see certain parts of the forest,and he often watched from a distance,very rarely engaging into a closer look as to not scare you off.

If you allow him to get closer I can see the tall eldritch teasing you with innocent pranks ranging from putting your belongings far too high from your liking to letting you wander around his office while he's admiring you or simply reading

"He's no good for you" he broke the silence while you stared out of his office window,admiring the three proxies who were heading to a mission.

"How do you know who I'm looking at?Are you fucking in my head again??"

"I guessed."

"Stop looking in my head,please!"

"I'm not invading your privacy.I never had."

he's lying so hard bro

One day,he had to go solve private business outside the mansion,and like always-he left a letter on your bedside.

There was no doubt that the calligraphic letter belonged to the one you could call a part of your family.

"I always have treasured you." it wrote,the deepest black on the purest white paper-it was all he could write-and slowly but surely he will tell you too.For now,he just wants to know that he loves you from a safe distance equivalent to his monstrous looks

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #y/n #headcanons #slenderman's daughter #slenderverse #slenderman #slenderman x reader

478 notes · View notes

fandomgirlz01 · 4 months ago

Text

Courageous Gift Pt. 1

Greg Sanders x Reader

Imagine on my fandom Instagram?: Yes/No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: Yes/No

Style of Writing: Mini Series

Rating: PG-13 ~ For fluff and cuteness, but more adult commentary or even some triggering content.

Edited: Yes

Word count: 4,820

Post Date & Time: August 16th 2024 at 2:32 AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}.

Summary: Based off of S7 Es4 & 7 When Greg becomes victim to a gang of street thugs that have been beating people all night, the reader is forced to fear the worst for her best friend.

Reader’s Pov:

I get into work and walk down the many hallways from the parking garage and to the locker room, quickly changing into my work clothes. Just as I start to put my old clothes away, Sara walks in and opens up her locker.

“Hi, y/n,” she greets me and I smile at her.

“Hi, Sara,” I greet her back as she turns to smile back at me.

“Are you doing okay? You look a little tired,” she observes and I sigh, shaking my head.

“Nah. I’m good, just didn't sleep much last night,” I respond and she purses her lips as I pull out my gun and clip it to my hip.

“Are you good to work then? I could talk to Griss, see if you can get a bit more sleep,” she wonders and I shake my head, closing my locker.

“No. It’s okay. He already knows. I called in before and asked if I could come in later. Hence why I’m here now,” I inform her with a shrug and she nods.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything,” she offers to me as she rubs my shoulder.

“Oh yeah, of course. Thank you,” I give my appreciation and she smiles at me.

“Anytime,” she replies with her own light smile.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later. Gotta get to work,” I inform her and she nods.

“Yeah, see you later,” she agrees before I walk out of the locker room.

I walk through the lab’s endlessly long, winding hallways, looking for Grissom to talk to him. I just so happen to catch Greg, who smiles when he sees me and starts to walk up to me, making me smile as I start to walk towards him too.

“Way to go,” our coworker congratulates him as they pass each other and give one another a high five.

“Thank you,” Greg replies before walking over to me and I smile at him.

“Well, hello, Mr. Spiffy. Don’t you look nice in that suit and tie,” I remark, crossing my arms and giving a knowing smile. He grins as he pops the side of it.

“Thank you. I had court today,” he comments with a smug look crossing his face and I nod as I look him over.

“I know. Your first trial with a jury, how’d it go?” I ask and he grins more if that’s even possible, which with Greg it always is.

“You remembered,” he practically gushes and I roll my eyes.

“Of course I remember, Greg. We’ve only been best friends for how many years? Oh yeah, 20 plus years,” I sarcastically remark and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“It went great. I did so good that even the nice lady prosecutor took me to dinner,” he playfully boasts as he beams at me with a grin brighter than the sun as we slowly start to walk again.

“That’s great, G. I guess I owe you dinner now too,” I offer with my own sly grin, even though there’s a pit of boiling jealousy running through me.

“Actually, by the time we’re both off you’d probably be buying late breakfast,” he jokes with an eyebrow raise and I giggle.

“You know what I meant, dumbass,” I deadpan as I lightly hit his arm.

“Yeah, I did…” he sheepishly admits as he rubs his arm.

“No, but really. You don’t have to buy me breakfast. If anything, I’ll buy you breakfast,” he argues and I shake my head.

“Greg. How would that even make sense? Please, just let me treat you?” I beg him, giving him my best puppy eyes that I know he can’t say no to.

“Not the puppy eyes… and you bought the pizza on Friday,” he groans out in displeasure, shielding his eyes and I grin.

“Yeah, but it’s not every day my best friend survives his first day in court with a jury,” I joke with him and he shakes his head as he finally looks at me again while letting out a sigh of relief.

“Greg… y/n. Good, I need both of you,” Grissom calls out to us as he comes out of his office holding a clipboard and we look at one another before walking over to him together.

“Lose the monkey suit, you’ve got a scene: liquor store robbery. Here’s the address,” he informs Greg, looking him up and down before handing Greg a paper.

“Awe man, I like the monkey suit,” I playfully whine and Greg lets out a chortle, shaking his head.

“Well, too bad. He can’t go on a scene like that,” Grissom notes in humor as he looks at me over his glasses.

“Is it related to the earlier 415s?” Greg inquires as he looks at the address.

“Could be— Sofia’s got one of the suspect’s sweaters,” Grissom answers as he scratches at his ear.

“I need you to seal it, bring it back here and anything else you can find,” Grissom explains, pointing at Greg, who nods as he listens intently.

“All right. Who’s my wingman? Is it y/n?” Greg asks in excitement as he smiles at me.

“You're a big boy, Greg. You don’t need a wingman for this,” Grissom pointedly answers, giving him a judgmental fatherly look and I turn to Greg with a grin.

“Y/n, may I please see you in my office?” Grissom asks and I nod at him before he turns around and walks into it.

“Primary. Nice,” Greg comments with a light smirk as he hits the paper against his hand like he always does.

“Good luck out there, G. Be safe, yeah?” I ask him and he smiles, nodding.

“Of course. I promise,” he replies before opening his arms for a hug.

I smile back, taking a step forward and wrapping my arms around his torso, squeezing him affectionately. He wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head lightly on top of mine. I turn my head and nuzzle my nose into his neck, melting into him for a moment as all my tiredness comes flooding over me.

“Hey. You doing okay?” he asks as he starts to pull back from the hug, but I pull him back in.

“Just hold me for a second,” I mutter out, holding him a little tighter.

“Sure, I can do that,” he whispers softly as I relish in the tranquility that he provides me with.

“Are you sure you’re okay, fruit loop?” he asks me when I finally pull back from the hug and I purse my lips.

“I’m fine, poohbear. I just…” I pause, biting at my lip and he grabs my hand.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m here for you through whatever, you know that,” he tentatively rubs his thumb on the back of my hand and I sigh.

“I’m having sleep problems again…” I relent hesitantly and he reverently nods.

“I figured. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks and I shake my head.

“I thought I could handle it…” I admit while refusing to look at him and he sighs.

“Well, now I’m definitely coming over and you're buying me breakfast,” he jokingly remarks and I look up at him in shock before smiling softly when I only see care written all over his face.

“You got yourself a deal. I’ll see you in the morning then?” I ask him in a hopeful tone and he smiles, nodding as he gives my hand one last squeeze.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment?” he questions with another raised eyebrow and I squeeze his hand back.

“Okay. I’ll see you then,” I agree, nodding and he gives one last nod before backing up while slowly letting go of my hand.

I shake my head as I feel a blush coming on, but I do my best to hide it. He walks away all the while walking backwards and I shake my head, holding back a giggle as he snaps his fingers before giving me finger guns. It’s only when he disappears that I let out a sigh before turning and walking into Grissom’s office.

Third Person Pov:

After saying goodbye to y/n, Greg quickly went to change out of his suit and into his work overalls before heading out to his SUV to drive out to the scene. As he drives down the streets of Las Vegas, following the directions on his GPS, he passes an alleyway and sees a glimpse of something strange. In confusion, he stops his car and backs up to look in the alleyway. He rolls his window down and hears grunting and groaning coming from the end of the alley as dark figures all seem to stand over another. Quickly, he picks up his radio and holds the button down for a moment.

“Control, control. This is CSI Sanders. I need some help,” he speaks into it before letting go of the button.

“Control, go with your information,” the dispatcher replies and he quickly turns his head back to the scene.

“Okay. I got an assault in progress. One alley south of Casino drive, cross street Shane,” he recites as he leans forward a bit to look at the sign.

“How many suspects involved?” The dispatcher questions as she gets ready to take the information down.

“Multiple, could be the guys who’ve been doing it all night,” Greg continues to relay information and he pauses as he waits anxiously.

“The closest unit has a five-minute ETA. Rolling code three. Are they armed?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Ma’am, please, listen. You got to get here quicker than this,” he begs into the walkie talkie as he helplessly watches the group beat the poor person.

“Copy that. We’ll roll two additional units ASAP. Wait for backup,” the dispatcher replies and the radio goes silent.

Greg takes in a breath as he thinks for a split second before putting his SUV back into drive. He quickly backs the car up before pulling into the alleyway and driving down it while honking his horn.

“Move!” he shouts as he gets closer to the group while still honking his horn.

He hits his siren a couple of times while honking as he gets closer. It’s not until he gets a little closer that a lot of the suspects start to move away from the person on the ground, all running in different directions.

“Hey, get out of here!” he yells out at them as he waves his hand.

One of the suspects stays and continues to kick the victim on the ground. Greg comes to a stop and gives a long honk of his horn at the suspect, but the man just keeps kicking. Finally, he turns around and looks Greg right in the face. Greg is in shock when he sees the guy's eyes are stark white, before fear races through him as the guy quickly rushes over to his right and picks up a rock. At first he moves his hand back like he’s going to bash the victim's head open, but then he turns to Greg and starts to run towards him.

He pulls his arm back as he runs at Greg, who watches in slow motion as he gets closer and closer, seeming like he’s going to throw the rock at Greg through the windshield. Greg makes a split second decision and puts his foot down on the gas ever so slightly, revving the engine just a bit to make the car jolt forward. The guy continues to run at Greg and the car meets the guy in the middle. The guy and the car collide, making him hit the hood before falling to the ground as Greg stops the car to take a moment to calm down. Then all of a sudden, the back window breaks with a resounding crash, making Greg turn to look behind himself, but he sees nothing behind him so he calms once again.

The calm is short lived though, because his driver's side window is next to be broken. He doesn’t have time to turn and find the source seeing as arms reach in. He fights the arms for a good minute, but he loses the battle and gets pulled out of the driver's side window. He continues to fight the one attacker off, but all the others that he’d chased off come back. He continues to try and fight back, but the group is so big that they easily overpower him.

They slam him up against a fence and then suddenly in a blur he’s on the floor. He tries to crawl away, but they’re relentless and just keep kicking and hitting him. Slowly everything starts to become distorted and the world spins. One of the suspects turns him over onto his back and all he can really tell is that they laugh before one of them spits on him. Even in his hazy mind frame, Greg still tries to think of anything he can do to make it easier to find them, so as one of them steps over him while going to walk away, Greg reaches up and scratches his ankle. The last thing Greg sees before blacking out is a car side swiping his as it drives away.

Reader’s Pov:

After my talk with Grissom, I shake my head as I go on a hunt for Sara. Grissom decided that until I can get my insomnia in check, I’m not allowed in the field alone so he’s assigned me to her side or Nick’s side seeing as they’re head senior CSIs. Admittedly I’m not too thrilled with it, but I totally understand why and at least I’m still allowed in the field. It’s only a few minutes until I find her right where Grissom told me she’d be. I find her in the recreation lab standing at one of the tables, writing something down.

“Oh, hi. Long time no see,” she jokingly greets me for the second time today as she looks up from some paperwork on the table.

“Hi. Did Griss inform you?” I ask her and she pauses as if to think.

“No. I don’t think he did,” she answers my question with a shake of her head and I sigh.

“I’m on suspended duty,” I inform her and she gives a small “ahh.”

“You’re officially on babysitting y/n duty. Well, you and Nicky. I’m not allowed to go to any scenes without either of you,” I continue to explain and she smiles softly.

“Don’t think of it as me babysitting you. Think of it as just two girls working together,” she remarks with a reassuring smile and I shrug.

“Still don’t like not being able to work on my own. I’m a level three CSI. I should be okay,” I begrudgingly tell her as I cross my arms and she chuckles, shaking her head.

“Griss is just looking out for you. You know that,” she points out and I sigh.

“I know, I just—” I start to confide, but cut myself off.

“You know what, forget it. What are you working on?” I ask her as I shake out of my daze and walk around the table.

“Okay…” she skeptically agrees as she seems to watch me closely for a moment.

“I’m trying to find out how many different shoe patterns we have,” she explains as she finally turns back to the table and lifts a shoe imprint up.

“So far I’ve found about three shoes and matched them in the solemate database. Griss wants me to see if I can match any of the others,” she finishes explaining as she holds up a paper with the shoe print and all its information on it.

“Want some help?” I ask with a timid smile and she smiles, nodding.

“You know what? That would actually be so great. I have over ten more to match,” she grins as she picks up a pair from the side of the room and holds them out for me to see.

“Get kickin,” she jokes as she hands me the pair and I laugh.

“Aye aye, captain,” I jokingly salute her before sitting on one of the stools to switch out shoes as she laughs, shaking her head.

“Phew, I could use some water,” Sara comments through labored breath after we finish the last three kicks.

Together we worked on each taking different pairs of shoes and kicking the dummy. So far we’ve each done about three pairs of shoes and seem to be half way done.

“I know. That was so much work,” I pant out as I walk over and grab a towel off the table.

I long ago discarded my top and now stand in only my tank top along with a pair of sweats I’d gotten from my locker after the first set of shoes. I start to wipe at the nape of my neck as she walks over and picks up her water bottle.

“Tell me about it. I haven’t worked out since—” I start, but she holds up a finger as she picks up her ringing phone from the table.

“Hold that thought, it’s Sofia,” she informs me as she answers the phone.

“Isn’t she with Greg?” I ask, but only receive a nod in response.

My brows furrowed in confusion as she talks to Sofia for a few minutes before her face falls and she’s quickly nodding while promising we’ll be there soon. She quickly hangs up before slowly looking at me and something feels off about her look.

“Go get your safety vest and gear,” she commands in a very serious tone and I give her a confused look.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” I ask her and she sighs, putting her phone in her pocket.

“Okay. Ahh. Here, sit down for just a second,” she tells me as she pulls the small stool out from underneath the work bench.

“Ah, okay. Sara, please just tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me,” I beg her and she sighs, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Listen. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. I’m just going to tell you straight, okay?” she asks with a questioning look on her face.

“Okay. Just tell me…” I reply with a light nod and she sighs again.

“Greg’s been hurt in the field,” she blurts out and immediately everything comes crashing down.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Okay. It’s okay,” she panics as I lightly fall back and she catches me.

“Bad idea to sit you on a stool,” she sarcastically comments more to herself than me as she rolls her eyes.

“I’m okay. I promise. Is he okay? Sara, tell me he’s okay,” I beg her while squeezing her hand and she sighs.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just told Sofia that you and I would be there as soon as we could get there,” she informs me and I immediately hop off the stool.

“Let’s go then,” I declare as I rush past her, not giving her a moment to reply.

I quickly race to the locker room with Sara right behind me and open my locker as fast as I can. I pull my vest out and slip it on over my tank top, not caring to change, pulling the velcro straps tight. Then I grab my gun and clip it into its holster before turning to Sara, who now has her vest and gun too.

“Ready to go?” she asks me and I nod.

“As ready as ever,” I mutter before we both quickly make our way to her car.

After we get into the car, she turns it on and makes quick work of pulling out. She turns on her sirens, making the drive much quicker. Soon before I know it, she pulls up just at the edge of the alley way and I’m already unbuckling. She doesn’t even fully get out herself before I’m rushing forward, pushing through all the people that officers hold off. I see Sofia as she talks to some lady.

She looks up at me for a moment and my heart drops when she gives me a frown, making me stop in my tracks just as Sara catches up. I stand frozen, my mind going a hundred miles as Sara lightly grabs onto my arm and squeezes for a moment, effortlessly breaking me out of my practically catatonic state. She starts to continue her walk, almost pushing me along and we meet up with Sofia.

“Hey,” Sara greets her as we push past the scene tape with Sofia now following us.

We finally make it around the ambulance and find three on the ground. I let out a quiet gasp when I see Greg laying on the ground, almost peacefully, and for a moment the world starts to spin.

“Why isn’t there a medic on Greg?” Sara asks Sofia as she grabs onto my arm to stabilize me when she sees me sway a bit.

“He’s been stabilized, Sara. Y/n, he’s going to be okay,” Sofia promises as we continue to walk over to him and she splits off from us.

We both bend down next to him and Sara grabs onto his hand. I reach forward and rub at his head as tears make their way to my eyes. As I touch him, he breathes out and I choke back my tears.

“Y/n… Sara,” he faintly speaks to us and I nod at him.

“We’re here, Poohbear. We’re right here with you,” I tell him as I comb through his hair with my fingers.

“I didn’t think you could see us,” Sara softly adds with sad humor lacing her voice and more tears well up in my eyes.

“I can’t… but I know y/n’s touch… and that Sidle scent,” Greg replies and I let out a wet giggle as tears start to fall now.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she replies to him with a light chuckle before looking at me and I continue to try and hold my tears at bay.

“I scratched one of them…” Greg coughs out and Sara lifts the hand she holds when he moves it ever so slightly.

“And you should check my vest. I think the same guy spit on me,” Greg continues to explain and I rub his head more in hopes of comforting him while frowning.

“And one of their cars crashed into the Denali,” he informs us and Sara looks up for a moment as I choke back more tears.

“I guarantee there's transfer on it,” he adds on through his slurred, tired words and I continue to rub at his head.

“You should process the scene now. Me later,” Greg mutters out to us and I shake my head as I hold back a sad chuckle at the thought of him still being a CSI at heart, no matter what.

“We came here for you, Greg,” Sara tells him as tears make way to her eyes now too.

“Oh, Poohbear. You don’t have to be a CSI all the time,” I giggle out though my tears as I shake my head and Sara shakes her head, chuckling herself.

“Leave it to Greg,” she comments and I smile softly.

We sit with him for a few minutes and the whole time I have to remind myself I can’t move Greg until he’s processed. It’s hard when I just wanna cuddle and hold him in my arms. Nick soon shows up and Sara stands to go talk to him. I'm assuming she relays what Greg had told us before she walks back over to us, bending back down.

“Okay, Nicky’s going to get the evidence around us started. I’m going to collect evidence from Greg, then the paramedics will take him to the hospital. I’m assuming you want to go with him?” she informs me before asking her question and I nod, sniffing.

“Umm, yeah. I'm gonna go with him,” I reply as I continue to lightly scratch at his scalp and she nods, rubbing between my shoulder blades lightly for a moment.

“Ok. I'm just going to get some stuff from Nicky’s kit. I’ll be right back,” she informs me and I nod at her, not having the will to speak as my throat gets tighter and tighter.

“I’m okay, fruit loop. Promise,” Greg whispers out, giving a small wince of a smile after she leaves and let out another wet laugh.

“I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, doofus,” I snarkily reply as I sniffle, reaching up to wipe at a lone tear that falls.

“Yeah, but I hate when you cry,” he whispers out again and I choke back more tears.

“G. Don’t think about me right now. Stop talking, save your energy,” I insist as I continue to rub his scalp and he gulps a bit before nodding.

I sit with him for another few minutes before Sara walks back over. She has a few things in her hands as she bends down again. She opens one of the swabs, using it to get some of the spit off of him before pushing it back in the tube and closing the lid.

“Okay. The rest of processing will have to be at the hospital. So I’ll, uh… meet you there I guess,” she informs me with a shrug and I only nod at her.

“Okay. You guys are good to take him then,” she calls out over my shoulder and soon the paramedics are walking over.

I stand up and Sara holds me in a hug as I keep my stare locked on him. They roll a stretcher over and they quickly but carefully move Greg onto it. He groans for a moment at the initial movement, but soon he’s calm again. They start to roll him to the ambulance and Sara lets go of me.

“Fruit loop?” he calls out almost meekly as he moves his head, looking for me.

“I’m right here, Poohbear. I’m coming with you,” I softly promise him and he reaches his hand out to me.

I hesitate, not wanting to ruin any evidence that might be on him, but I feel a hand on my back, making me look at Sara. She smiles softly at me for the millionth time today as she rubs my shoulder ever so slightly.

“You can hold his hand. It’s okay. It won’t ruin any of the evidence, I promise,” she tells me and I shake my head, letting out a quiet choke and she nods at me.

“It’s okay. Really,” she continues to prompt me, lifting my arm to his.

I hesitantly grab onto his hand and it seems he relaxes ever so slightly, making my hesitation quickly fade. I squeeze his hand, letting him know I’m there and look up to nod my thanks to Sara as she just smiles softly back.

“I’ll meet you there, okay?” she asks in a very calming tone. I only nod as I watch over Greg’s face that’s full of black and blue bruises as everything seems to fade out of my mind.

The ride as well as the arrival to the hospital is all hazy now as I sit in the main lobby. I wait anxiously for Sara and Brass as they finish processing and questioning Greg. I groan, bringing my hands up to rub my face as my leg shakes in anticipation. Finally after what seems like forever, Sara and Brass turn the corner and start down the hall.

“Y/n. He’s ready for you to go on in,” Sara tells me as she comes up and sits down next to me.

“He’s actually asking for you,” Brass adds on with a light smile.

“I can take you to his room before going to help Warrick and Nicky if you’d like,” Sara offers as I blink up at her before nodding.

She holds an arm out for me and I stand on shaky legs. Brass gives me a warm fatherly hug and rubs my head before saying a quick “bye,” as well as promising to catch the guys that did this. Sara and I start to walk, her leading me mindlessly through the halls.

“His room is just around this corner,” she informs me and I freeze, making her stop to turn to me.

“Y/n?” she asks and I stay frozen.

“I don’t know if I can go in, Sara,” I tell her with a gulp as tears well up.

“Y/n. He’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone is okay. He needs you. He needs your comfort,” she sympathizes with me and I sniffle before standing straight.

“Ok. You're right, take me to him. I’m ready now,” I tell her with a determined nod and she smiles softly before turning to start walking to his room again.

To Be Continued…

If your user has a strike though and bolded it means we were unable to tag you and we are terribly sorry, maybe check in the list that it is right.

For Future Fics please add yourselves to our taglists if you wish to be tagged in anything upcoming. Thank You! We hope you guys enjoyed!

Tag List: Add Yourself Here

#greg sanders #greg sanders x reader #greg sanders imagines #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders one shot #greg sanders x you #csi imagines #csi x reader #csi #csi imagine #csi x you #csi crime scene investigation #csi fanfiction #fandomgirlz01 #courageous gift #courageous gift fandomgirlz01 #fandomgirlz01 fics

34 notes · View notes

macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month ago

Text

Tethered- RadioApple (Hair Pulling)

WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END EVERYONE

Once again a huge thank you to all of the wives @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @synamartia @sugoi-writes for letting me be part of this- I've had such a fun time getting into the prompts and getting to know everyone, y'all are so cool and talented and I'm happy to have been included 🥹

Come check out Syn's beautiful Masterlist for the event RIGHT HERE and see the other tasty stuff that everyone has cooked up over the course of the month! And make sure to come back on the 31st for the 6-way prompt 🦆

Summary: after an argument, Lucifer tries to walk away- Alastor reaches out to grab his shoulder and instead gets a handful of hair instead. Lucifer is into it Tags: hair pulling, inappropriate erections, dry humping

Lucifer’s first mistake was leaving his hat back in his bedroom. And he was still kicking himself for it- he didn’t have the height it gave him, and his hair would be at the mercy of wind in the garden if not for the product he had thrown into it this morning, something new that made his hair feel stiff and unclean. And of course, as soon as he stepped outside for some fresh air after another conversation with his excitable daughter about how Heaven was a sack of shit and no one should even want to go there, who should follow him but that fucking bellhop?

“Good afternoon, your Majesty! Fancy meeting you out here.”

“Fancy my ass,” Lucifer mumbled. “When you follow someone you tend to end up at the places they go. What do you want?” But he knew already- Alastor was itching for a fight, for some of their usual banter that may or may not evolve into one of them swinging on the other, just to see how much they could fuck one another up before Charlie or Vaggie stumbled upon them and made them stop. And normally he would be in the mood for it- something about seeing Alastor’s chest heaving with anger, his face flushed with embarrassment when Lucifer landed a zinger, was addictive, and he normally couldn’t get enough of it.

“Oh, just out for some air! With all the acid rain lately it does seem to be in short supply, hm?” And wow, how original, a joke about his height. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Alastor acting like a child desperate for attention today though, so he didn’t respond verbally and instead just continued walking, sighing internally when Alastor merely kept up his pace. “Come now, sire, surely you won’t deny a subject the costless gift of conversation!” And when Lucifer continues to ignore him, acid slips into his tone- “You’d think you might at least try to do one thing right as our ruler, after all.”

Lucifer whips around, wings exploding from his back as he turns to face the sinner- his rage fades when he sees how eager Alastor is for it, eyes tracing the lines of his wings with obvious excitement. He lets them fold again. “I’m really not in the mood, Alastor,” he says, figuring that matching energy was the only way to get him out of his hair. “Why don’t you be a good little overlord and go fuck off somewhere else?” He turns on his heel to continue his walk, hopefully without his new tall, creepy shadow, and misses whatever insult Alastor throws his way as he tries to escape.

And then there’s sudden, electrical pleasure that rips down his spine, the shock of it so sudden that a moan tumbles from his lips, forgetting where he was and who he was with. It fades after a few short seconds, and reality comes back to him; he was in the garden. With Alastor. Who… had a fucking hand in his hair in an attempt to yank him backwards. The grip he has is tight and unyielding, and when Lucifer tries to turn his head back to glare at the demon, the hand comes with, tightening strands of his hair across the claws and forcing him to still if he didn’t want another embarrassing noise to come out.

“Let. Go.” He says as calmly as he can, but he can feel the prick of his claws against his palms as his brain wars with his body about whether he was more angry or turned on.

Alastor is quiet for a moment, the silence making Lucifer nervous. “What was that?” He finally asks, his voice strained, and Lucifer starts to shake his head before the action pulls at his hair again, biting back another sound of pleasure.

“It was nothing. Let me go, get your hands off me.”

“I’m fucking trying,” Alastor hisses, and yanks his hand back- Lucifer comes with it, a pathetic whine escaping him as he stumbles backwards into Alastor’s chest. “I’m stuck. What is this repulsive, sticky substance in your hair?”

“It’s fucking hairgel,” Lucifer snaps, bringing his hands up to try and pry the demon’s fingers from his head as he turns to glare at him as gently as he can, without risking any further pulling of his blonde locks. “Of course that fucking bob of yours is natural, but some of us have to put effort into fucking looking good, jackass.”

“Hold still,” the demon snarls, and this time when he tries to jerk his hand out of Lucifer’s hair the tug against his scalp makes him fall forward and to his knees, white-hot desire shooting through his veins and making his legs weak.

He’s hard- embarrassingly so, the heavy weight of it straining his slacks at his unexpected response to the stimulus he was being subjected to. He needed to do something to get out of this situation, before something even more mortifying happened like coming in his pants, or worse- Alastor noticing.

Of course, as his luck would have it, the worst case scenario is the one that he’s been thrust into. There’s a soft “oh!” of understanding from Alastor as he looks down at the king on his knees, and Lucifer’s heart sank. Here would come the humiliation, begot of a bodily response he hadn’t known about, could never have predicted. Charlie would be terribly disappointed when he was forced to dispose of Alastor after this, but desperate times and all that-

“What do we have here?” The demon asks with his usual fucking smirk, and Lucifer is going to snark something back at him when he feels the man’s fingers shift in his hair; no longer simply stuck in his strands but purposely gripping a fistfull of it. When he tugs Lucifer’s head back slightly, the pain his scalp sharp, aching, delicious, the king can’t stop the desperate groan that rips free of his throat. “How interesting!”

Lucifer’s about to show him how fucking interesting it was when he tore the overlord’s arm from his body if that was what he needed to do to escape. The way he’s looking down at Lucifer with his dark eyes is making him feel uncomfortably… submissive. Which isn’t something that the King of Hell should be, and is probably why Alastor wanted to keep him on his knees as long as he could. He opens his mouth to retort, to tell Alastor exactly what was going to happen if he didn’t let him go, when there’s suddenly firm, perfect pressure against his strained cock, where Alastor has pressed the sole of his shoe against it. He chokes back a moan, clenching his eyes closed as Alastor smirks above him.

“Something the matter, sire?” He asks with a head tilt, eyes narrowed while he regards Lucifer on his knees. “You look like you have something to say.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot to say to you right now, mother fuuuuuck-” The word collapses when Alastor applies pressure at both points of contact with Lucifer’s body- the hand in his hair yanks hard, Lucifer’s head angled almost painfully back, and Alastor’s shoe shifts and provides just enough friction that he can’t stop the roll of his hips against it. His brain is flooded with chemicals that course through his body, make him want to beg for more- he tries to bite his tongue against the pleas that threaten to spill forth but the effort is futile. “Oh, God-”

Alastor chuckles, just out of Lucifer’s line of sight with how far his head is being held back. “There’s no need for honorifics,” he says softly. “Though I suppose I could be persuaded to be generous with you, provided you can ask for what you want.” There’s no static to his whisper, just something akin to a promise in his tone, and for once he’s patient as he waits for a response- not goading the king into answering by insulting him or spewing bullshit. Lucifer debates on what he would be losing out if he does what Alastor is implying and begs. And fuck, it’s humiliating to be held like this and spoken down to and still feel his cock throb with need but now that he’s here with an iron grip in his hair and pressure against his erection- what did he have to lose by saying ‘please’?

If, down the line, Alastor tried to hold it against him? He would cross that bridge when he got to it.

He’s not even fully sure what he’s asking for when he opens his mouth- more pressure against his cock? A firmer hold in his hair? To be let go? Whatever it is that Alastor is going to grant him, Lucifer was ready for it. “Please,” he breathes out quietly, and only has to wait a moment before he’s being gently tugged forward, Alastor’s foot moving so that Lucifer now straddles his ankle.

The grip in his hair does loosen, and he’s able to tilt forward enough to see Alastor’s face again- his smile is softer, his eyes half-lidded and dark and not a trace of his usual maliciousness to be seen. He pets his finger gently across Lucifer’s scalp, and he resists the urge to simply rut against the man’s leg when the sensation of it still sparks pleasure through his body. It takes him a moment to realize that they’ve moved- no longer in the middle of the garden, but in a dark, quiet room where Alastor takes a seat against the navy velvet of a wide couch.

Alastor notices the inquisitive look and scoffs. “As though I would risk allowing anyone else the chance to see you like this. This,” he says softly, raking his claws gently along the nape of Lucifer’s neck, making him unconsciously grind into the firm surface under him, “is for my eyes alone.”

His face flames. “Don’t make it sound like something it’s not,” Lucifer mutters. “You just like seeing the King of Hell on his knees for you.”

“Nothing wrong with that when you’re getting something out of it as well, yes?” Lucifer is quiet, and Alastor’s chuckle echoes in the room. “And if the position doesn’t agree with you, you’re more than welcome to relocate.” He pats his thigh with his free hand, and Lucifer hesitates only a moment before standing on his shaky legs and straddling Alastor’s leg, one knee dangerously close to the apex of Alastor’s legs, the hand that had been in his hair waiting patiently nearby to help position him. This felt… different. Not necessarily bad different, but this close to Alastor he was hyper-aware of how much smaller he was than the other demon, and that feeling of submissiveness returns, not entirely unwelcome now with the change in circumstances.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Alastor slides his fingers back into Lucifer’s hair- too soft at first, but then he gets the pressure back, strands pulling tightly between the demon’s fingers, and Lucifer doesn’t bother trying to hold the sound he makes back now that they’re alone in a secluded space. His cock aches, hard and wanting, the friction from his own slacks against Alastor’s leg somehow both perfect and not enough.

He sets a steady push and pull with his grip on Lucifer’s hair- pulling sharply and then easing up in even intervals, a pattern that Lucifer finds himself replicating with the movement of his hips. He thinks he should probably say something, but no words feel adequate- for once Alastor was quiet, no quips or barbed comments that fell from his smiling lips. He simply watches Lucifer rock on his thigh and takes in the noises he makes with a sigh.

A particularly sharp yank on his hair has his hands flying up to find purchase on something, his fingers ending up tangled in fur and digging into Alastor’s chest. The demon’s breath hitches, his own free hand coming up to settle on Lucifer’s hip and press his claws into the soft flesh under the king’s clothing. He uses that to help guide Lucifer’s movements, cock rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of Alastor’s pants but fuck, it’s too good to stop or slow down.

Alastor guides his head so their faces are mere inches apart- Lucifer thinks for one incredulous moment that he’s going to kiss him. But no, he just maintains eye contact and his cocky smirk while Lucifer grows more desperate, no longer any rhythm to the frantic fucking of his cock against Alastor’s leg. It’s debasing and humiliating, but the hand in his hair tethers him to the moment, reminding him of who he is and who he’s with.

That’s the thought that has him spilling, that it’s the untouchable Radio Demon himself allowing Lucifer to use him for his pleasure, in a place below the king that he usually seemed determined to displace at every opportunity. “Fuck, Alastor,” he chokes out as he comes, pulses of hot release that soak through his pants and drip messy into the lap of the demon under him; at the sound of it his head is wrenched back, claws breaking through the skin of his hip as Alastor’s grip tightens drastically. Tears slip from his eyes at the multifaceted pain-turned-pleasure, and the moment oozes languidly from something passionate and desperate to soft and quiet- words he never thought he would associate from an encounter with Alastor.

When he tries to lift his head up, Alastor doesn’t relent. “Fuck, let go,” Lucifer whines. It still feels too good, his cock twitching at the ache of his scalp, but even with his angelic stamina less than a minute was far too soon to go again. He doesn’t budge, and Lucifer can’t move his head to see what the problem is so he starts shuffling around in an attempt to dislodge himself from Alastor’s grasp, and-

Well. That was an impressive erection pressed against him.

Alastor does release his head now, as well as the hand on his hip, and then Lucifer can get a good look at him- his eyes are wide and frantic, hungry as he looks at Lucifer, and his smile is strained- a bead of blood drops from his teeth where he had bitten his lip. They stare at each other for a moment, the air between them tense with anticipation and Alastor’s lips parting to speak-

“Do you want some help with that?” Lucifer asks, breaking the softness of the moment before he can think better of it with a flick of his eyes into Alastor’s lap, and there’s a screech of feedback that fills the room, Alastor’s pupils clicking to dials before he’s suddenly unmoored. Alastor simply vanishes, dissolving into shadows beneath him, and without the solid form to rest his weight on Lucifer falls off the couch onto the floor.

“Mother fucker,” he hisses, elbows stinging from how hard he had landed, and when the darkness lifts from the room to reveal one of the hotel’s various offices Lucifer knows that Alastor has gone.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #coven works #covenkinktober2024 #kinktober #kinktober2024 #alastor #lucifer #radioapple #synamartia #hazelfoureyes #minkdelovely #sugoi-writes #fraugwinska #what a wild ride this has been

41 notes · View notes

look-at-the-soul · 1 year ago

Text

Behind the scenes- Peaky Blinders (Part 1)

Cillian Murphy x reader

BTS master list

Request

A/N: I wrote this to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the series… right on time before this day ends! I had to cut it into two parts because it got a bit longer… there are no words enough to thank each of you (the peaky fam) for what writing and reading has given me. This little project is really really special and I want to thank @notyour-valentine for tagging me in this request a while ago, thank you for your generosity Val, there’s a little gift between the lines for you. And for the help you provided for another part related to horses♥️

But also @heidimoreton for creating this gorgeous moodboard to go with this story! And my dear @holacia3 for the help you gave me too about horses and @forbidden-forest-witch this is for your belated birthday and the little surprise♥️

Word count: 4,745

✨ Summary: Join us at the stables as Cillian gets riding lessons for his iconic role as Tommy Shelby in the series Peaky Blinders. He came to learn all about horses, but he ended up falling in love not only with them.

During his career, he had played several roles, learned how to walk on heels for Breakfast on Pluto, about space for Sunshine, even played a part in a film that was close to home in “The wind that shakes the Barley” about the historic war between Northern Ireland and Great Britain.

Acting was such a treat to calm -in a way- his hyperactive mind.

He preferred to not answer what he wasn’t willing to do for a role, because he’d probably do anything.

That included riding horses. Which, in reality he wasn’t a bit familiar with.

He had never even been close to one in his life. His driving skills were so poor, how would he fucking manage an animal that big?

Yet, here he was waiting in the living room of the horses sanctuary located in a remote place of England he had never heard before.

The sighting was breathtaking, the air so pure, no city noise, it was quiet, calm, everything he was looking for before the storm started, he had never been on a series before and the mental challenges of this character was the biggest of his entire career, he had never met a man as complex and with so many layers as this Tommy Shelby he had spent weeks reading, the internal turmoil this man has been through after the war wasn’t his only problem, his background included a household with lots of family problems, taking care of his younger siblings while stepping up to build an ilegal business and endless enemies that he would encounter along the way.

Cillian was greeted by the teenager behind the desk and asked him to wait because the trainer hadn’t show up that morning and she rushed to call someone else on a radio.

“Someone will be here shortly, can I offer you something to drink in the mean time sir?”

Cillian chuckled at the sir part.

“Water would be great.”

Turning around, he was able to see through the window, finding a woman galloping at speed and coming down from the horse without really stopping with just a jump.

Seconds later, the same woman entered the reception out of breath and walked straight to the girl.

“Your horse trainer called in sick again.” Cillian heard the teenager say.

“Thanks Willow, can you help me reschedule the appointment with the bank?”

“Sure, Y/N. Will you also reschedule his sessions?” The teenager pointed at him.

Until now, Cillian had only being able to watch her from behind; petite but lean frame, she had black tight pants, riding boots and a cream jumper on, her hair up in a high pony tail cascading on her upper back.

But when she turned around, Cillian was lost for words as the most angelic face met him.

And he wasn’t one bit religious.

“Mr. Murphy nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” She offered her hand firmly along with a smile. “Our trainer isn’t available today, please accept my apologies could we reschedule?”

He stammered, not knowing what to say.

“Y/N, you could show him how to ride too.” The teenager proposed.

“I thought you’d be on your way to school young lady.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at the girl. God she was just like her aunt.

“Whatever, I was just saying.” Getting her bag, she stormed from behind the counter. “Should I tell aunt Val dinner is cancelled?”

Oh no.

She knew that look, it was the same her aunt would give her.

“Honey don’t tell your aunt anything.”

“Bye auntie! Bye Mr. Murphy!”

“Sorry, so? I think one of our trainers comes back from a horse fair on Saturday if that day works for you.”

Leaning on the counter, Cillian decided to take a risk. There was something about her.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, would it give you a lot of trouble if you show me?”

“Not at all! I just thought you wanted a professional trainer that’s all.”

He smiled and for an instant, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“Right, well… follow me this way.” She lead the way outside of the property. “Is this some kind of bucket list thing?” Mondays were usually quiet days at the sanctuary, nothing like the weekends when they were usually packed.

Cillian walked next to her, hands inside his pockets. Unsure about how much to reveal.

“I need to learn how to ride.” He chuckled a little, the script was phenomenal and he was extremely excited about it, but until now he wasn’t able to talk about the project.

Y/N guided him towards the stables, he had seen a few in movies or the telly, but being there in person, it was another story, it was huge and his heart got too excited as his eyes found the horses.

“Do you’ve a particular preference for a horse?” Y/N asked curious about the hermetic man before her.

“Racehorses.”

Y/N turned around slowly to look at him. There was a subtle accent different from his voice, but she brushed it away.

Cillian tried to clear his throat, aware of the voice tone he just used, he was still practicing the accent and mannerisms he had been building over this new character.

“Okay… I can’t let you ride a racehorse if you’ve never been on a horse.”

“Why not?”

“Look, horses are just like people, they’ve their own temper, feelings, the know when we’re scared or aggressive, we don’t mess around them… I’d suggest you start with a gentle horse first.”

“You seem to know a lot about them.” Cillian observed the way she was caressing one as they walked.

“I grew up in this place, my grandparents started this sanctuary, my mother was the only child and she kept the family business, then it was my time to take over.”

“How long have you been running this place?”

“Since I was eighteen.” Y/N admitted. “This is Sally, she’s a good girl.”

Cillian observed Y/N’s moves, the way she approached the horses. And she showed him the right way to caress the animal.

“Can I touch her?”

Bringing the hose to her by the muzzle, she giggled. “She says you can.”

“What else does she says?” It felt soft and he noticed the way Sally was moving her ears.

“That she doesn’t believe you, horses are one of the most intelligent creatures.”

Cillian chuckled, accepting the snack Y/N brought over. He was fascinated by the level of trust she showed with each animal, the way each of them reacted, it was so true, as he was noticing little differences in each horse as their own personalities, it was amazing and as Y/N shared more details about the place with him, he found it was impossible to keep lying to her, she had such an energy that was so inviting, giving him a lot of comfort.

Y/N introduced him to all of the horses, caressing each of them, mentioning little details about their personalities or a couple of qualities. She seemed to know them all well and Cillian was marveled by the way each horse behaved with her. Y/N spent a good amount of time explaining him some of the basics.

“I think I learned how to ride a horse before I started walking, all my childhood I was eager to get out of school to come home and run straight to the stables. They’ve been with me through my worst moments, they own such a healing power humans do not understand about, they’re pure creatures… sorry, I’m boring you.” She mumbled feeling her cheeks burn.

“Not at all, I find it fascinating… the way you talk to them and about them, it’s magical.”

“Y/N! The foal is coming early!”

Y/N’s face went blank they still had a few week left. Turning to Cillian she apologized, but she needed to be there, so she asked Jonah the guy how took care of the saddles to show Cillian around while she was gone, but it could be hours.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, I’m staying at the small bed and breakfast that’s close.”

And he saw her run out of the stables, Jonah explained to him they built a small facility to those special occasions. The boy around his early twenties showed him the racks full of saddles and other equipment they used, he was surprised by all of the things they had around to use with the horses.

It was until around nine o clock when Y/N came down from the stairs, after taking a long bath, she had been so tired helping in the delivery that she just wanted a cup of tea and head off to sleep.

“Jesus, what are you doing here?” She gasped closing the robe tight against her body, she wasn’t expecting to find Cillian sitting by the window.

“Well I asked if I could use the books you’ve here and they said it was alright.” He smiled gently pointing at the pile of books he placed on the table next to him, an empty cup in the corner.

“You’ve been here reading since I left the stables?”

He chuckled a little, not aware of the track of time, he had been reading. “Yes, they’re fascinating.” He debated himself whether revealing her the truth or not.

Y/N threw him a puzzled look.

“You live here? Upstairs I mean.”

She nodded. “Yes, the house was so big so I turned the first floor into the main offices, the kitchen is in the back if you need anything.”

“Thanks, I’ve been looking around at the portraits, hope you don’t mind.”

Just as Y/N was about to answer him, a loud thunder echoed through the property. it was so loud it felt like the house would come crashing down. The sound of droplets of rain against the windows followed right after.

“I’d love to stay and talk about the books with you but I really need to go.” Y/N explained just as she rushed upstairs to get changed when she came back down a few minutes later, he noticed her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, cascading down her back.

“Wait.” Cillian stopped her placing his hand on her arm, “can I come with you?”

She was unsure because of his lack of knowledge, but Cillian seemed to read her mind. “I promise to stay back.”

“Okay.” She nodded and offered a rain jacket from the small closet next to the door.

“Is everything alright?” Cillian asked her with curiosity after getting in her vehicle to protect themselves from the heavy rain.

“It’s one of my horses… he gets pretty scary of this terrible weather.” She explained absently, holding the steering wheel with such force that made her knuckles turn white.

“Tell me about him.”

“Thunder is… special, he was born on a night like this and I know doing this sounds ridiculous, but how can I stand there and do nothing?”

She looked at him for an instant, all of her feelings right there in the surface for him to see and read. Cillian nodded, fighting against the lump on his throat that formed after detecting the passion in her voice.

In silence, Cillian followed Y/N inside the barn rushing immediately towards Thunder.

“There it is my good boy.” She started caressing the horse by the muzzle, gently. The horse was extremely agitated. “Everything’s fine… just a loud noise, you know that.”

Cillian found himself staring at her, unable to look anywhere else, he was under some kind of spell.

“Shh, shh.” She held the horse by the curb rein, -he now knew some of the horsemanship-. “Listen to me, Thunder.”

Marveled by her tactics and control over the horse, he couldn’t help it but start whispering a Romany poem he recently learned as part of the script for the series he was working in. Locking eyes with the beautiful animal, he felt like time stood still, it was as if the horse was going through every layer of his mind and soul and the rest of his surroundings faded away. Eventually, the horse started to give in, coming to a calm state.

“What did you do?” Y/N asked squinting her eyes. “It takes me ages to calm him down.”

Cillian shook his head, realizing the deep connection with the horse was gone but it was impossible to explain that it wasn’t him… it was his character’s nature. It was in his blood.

“It’s a poem.” He admitted quietly noticing the storm was coming down.

“In a foreign langua-?

“Thunder!” A boy stormed through the barn directly in the horse’s corral.

“Arlo what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I thought Thunder might get scared.” He argued, poking his head in to make sure the horse was safe.

“You’re not allowed to come here by yourself in the middle of the night.” She argued.

“But Muuuum!”

Cillian’s heart skipped a beat.

“No buts, Thunder is perfectly fine.” She transformed into a completely different person. “We’re going back to the house right now.”

“Who are you?” Arlo gave him a look, a serious one.

“I’m showing him to ride a horse, focus… on the truck now.” She then turned to look at Cillian. “The only road that could take you to the b&b is probably stuck, it would be better if you stay at the house tonight.”

He wanted to argue, but judging by the intensity of the storm, she was right.

“Sure, thanks.”

She touched the horse’s nose a few times before closing the gate. Cillian followed them in silence, still moved about what just happened with that horse.

“How long are you staying?” Arlo asked Cillian from the back seat.

“A week.”

“What’s your favorite horse?” The kid asked.

“Arlo, it’s late and Mr. Murphy is probably tired.”

He shook his head. “Just Cillian please and it’s fine.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Cillian giving her a wink and tilting his head.

Parking the truck, Arlo flew inside the house, leaving a wet patch on the floor of his footsteps.

“Boots and bed.” Y/N instructed with a firm voice. “You can stop by tomorrow morning to meet the new Filly.” Cillian saw her kissing the top of the kid’s head and the hint of a smile spread on her lips. “Sorry about that.”

“He looks like you. Must be awesome to have them help you around.”

Y/N made a face. “Them?”

“Arlo and his father?” Cillian asked in confusion.

And now she was moving her head from left to right. “There’s no father around, he left us after learning I was pregnant.” Y/N looked towards the stairs where her son disappeared a few minutes ago, shuddering. “Can I offer you some tea? It’s cold.”

“‘M sorry… shouldn’t have assumed.”

Brushing off the topic, she started the kettle and Cillian went back to feel extremely comfortable around her. And considering the personal revelation she just shared with him, he needed to be honest in return.

“I’m working in a project that involves horses, but like such a real passion for horses.” He ended up confessing after meeting all of them.

“That sounds interesting.” She admitted but decided to not ask further.

“Yeah,” Cillian ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I need you to show me everything about them… please. I’m portraying a character that involves a man that used to be in love with them, horses are a huge part of this man’s soul, it’s for a BBC series.”

Y/N turned with two cups in her hands, her mind trying to register his words.

“I-I’m an actor.” Cillian revealed after an instant. “But I need you to keep this between us because I signed a confidentiality contract and I could get kicked out of it.”

“Goodness I’m sorry, thought I had seen you before but I couldn’t remember where,” an adorable blush turned her cheeks pink, “I hope you understand I don’t go to the movies a lot, my whole life is this sanctuary and my son…”

“Please don’t even say it.” He chuckled. “I actually prefer it that way.”

“I think the last movie I saw you in…” Y/N stared into the ceiling thinking about it, “was it Inception? Probably.”

Cillian smiled and he lighted the entire kitchen with it.

“Yeah.”

Pouring both cups, Cillian stood up to take them from her hands.

“So uhhm… this project? Why exactly do you need a racehorse?” She asked cautiously.

“My character is a bookmaker, he arranges races… it’s placed in 1919 so he moved around horses after World War I. It’s quite interesting.” Cillian raised his eyebrows in appreciation for the tea after taking a sip. “Fascinating actually.”

“Definitely sounds intriguing.” Y/N admitted leaning her elbow on the table.

“As soon as I started reading the script I was attracted into his world.” He smiled, revering when he got the call for the audition. “Sorry I don’t want to keep you up.”

“It’s fine, I’ll stay for a little longer checking some paperwork.” Her thumb rubbed a chip in her mug. “So would it be okay if I show you everything? From brushing the horse, how to hook the saddle? The way you should approach one?”

Leaning back, Cillian looked at her with his head tilted to the side. “I actually need to learn how to ride bareback.”

****

The following morning, Y/N was preparing the lunchbox for Arlo when a deep voice startled her.

“Good morning.” Cillian saw the little jump she did.

“Hello, did you sleep well?”

Nodding, he smiled in her direction. “Thank you for the accommodation, much better than the B&B.”

“So! I just came here to check the new-” Val announced from the front door just as Arlo stormed into the kitchen but she cut herself when she spotted a man in the corner, “horse, but I see you’re busy.” She replied looking at you. “Just wanted to say it’s highly approved by the comitee. Hello, I’m Val.” She greeted Cillian.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Val…” Y/N added as a warning, knowing how Val was.

“What? It fills all the requirements… great breed, elegance, experience.” She made an OK with her hand.

“Val.” Y/N repeated. “Arlo go or you will be late for school.” She kissed the kid goodbye and felt Val’s eyes on her.

Of course her best friend wasn’t talking about a goddamn horse!

“How about I see you later today? I’m about to get a bit busy.” Y/N asked, she needed to get her friend out of her house before she could keep talking about Cillian as if he was a horse. “We’ve a riding lesson about to start.”

“Have a great time at the barn!” Val gave her a look before leaving them.

After a quick breakfast, Y/N gave him a pair of high boots and introduced Cillian to the different tools they used with the horses.

“To check the heel, you have to take your horse from here.” Y/N showed him how to carefully bend the horse’s leg. “It’s important to let them know that you know what you’re doing. They’re very sensitive.”

Cillian watched intensely every single move she made, how her tone was soft while she had a firm grip on the horse. He couldn’t get to move his eyes from her as she used one of the many tools to brush the mare’s neck.

“They also love to get petted.” Y/N added as she noticed Cillian got quiet. “Would you like to give it a try?”

Finally snapping from his trance, he took the brush and tentatively started to brush the mare.

“She likes that.” Y/N encouraged him noticing the little noises Goldie was making.

“She’s beautiful.” Cillian complimented.

“One of the most gentle ones I’ve seen so far.” Y/N caressed the mare from the other side, giving Cillian space to get comfortable around Goldie. “Her owner, Cia is a great friend and client.”

“And I assume the name is because of the color?” Cillian asked with interest, toiling the soft texture of Goldie.

Y/N nodded profusely.

“She’s recovering from an injury so well, now just needs some rest and she’ll be able to go back on the road in no time.” Cillian noticed the way she whispered to Goldie, looking straight into her eyes.

And she showed him how to get Goldie saddled, adding important tips and tricks to do it right, how to do it properly. It took him a few tries to do it right, but Y/N was so patient, she even admitted that was a virtue she had to thank the horses for.

“Y/N I’m sorry for not coming yesterday.” A woman approached them. “They said I could find you here.”

“Brie don’t worry, is everything alright?” Y/N asked while she eyed Cillian from the corner of her eyes.

That’s when Bries’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! Oh! Y/N… I’ve something to tell you.”

Cillian didn’t even look at them, he was totally engrossed on Goldie, all of his senses on brushing the mare, carefully to not stand behind her just like Y/N instructed. She had been answering all of his endless questions.

“Brie what’s happening?” Y/N looked at her horse trainer with curiosity.

“I just found out I’m pregnant!” She explained with excitement, unable to contain it or hide it any longer.

Y/N pulled her for a tight hug. “Brie, congratulations! This is the best news.”

There were tears in her eyes. “That’s why I couldn’t make it yesterday, I got morning sick and stayed in bed all day. But everything is perfect!”

Y/N couldn’t be happier, by the corner of his eyes, Cillian noticed the genuine smile on her face.

“Okay, so how about you go into the office and help me with the paperwork? I will be in charge for the training from now.” Y/N wrapped her arm around Brie and gave her a tender squeeze. “Made some sandwiches, help yourself.”

“That’s delicious! I brought some chips because, well cravings!” She chuckled giving Cillian a quick glance, it had been ages ago when Y/N went to the barn to give riding lessons.

Turning again towards Cillian, Y/N noticed how good he was, and he learned fast. “You’re a natural.”

Cillian smiled pleased with his improvement, he couldn’t wait to get on the horse.

“Got the best trainer to teach me.”

As time was flying, she noticed it was almost time for Arlo to come back home. “Look, how about we take a break? I need to make lunch for my son but you can join us if you want.”

“I don’t want to disturb your dynamic, Y/N.”

Y/N shook her head. “Non of that.” After caressing the horse’s ears, she added; “come have lunch with us.”

Leaving the boots right next to Y/N’s, Cillian changed into his shoes as they walked into the kitchen, finding Brie with her back at them.

“I hope you don’t mind, I made some pasta.” She smiled at them. “Enough for all of us.”

“Brie you’re going to spoil me just like that baby with some delicious food all the time? I mightjustb open the guest bedrooms and rent them.” Y/N joked leaning over the pot, the smell made her stomach growl.

“Well given the financial circumstances that isn’t a bad idea.” Brie admitted.

“Congratulations.” Added Cillian from the corner of the kitchen.

“Thank you!”

“Mum! I’ve already chose a name for the filly!” Arlo’s voice resonated from the entrance.

“Hello, good evening to you too, can you show some modals please?”

“Hello!” Arlo went to wash his hands and started helping his Mum set the table, Cillian offered to assist the kid. “Do you like riding?”

Looking at him, Cillian nodded. “I’m hoping I won’t be an embarrassment.”

“It’s easy!”

Cillian chuckled at him. “You say that because you were born riding.”

“Are you friends with my Mum? Does it means you’re my friend too?”Arlo gave him a hopeful look. Cillian answered him with a nod. “She needs some.”

Catching the last part of the conversation only Y/N approached them with the food, Brie following her steps.

“I need you to not bother our guests.” She answered and disheveled his hair playfully.

“Y/N I was thinking on what you said.” Cillian looked at her cautiously. “If you want of course… I could pay you and stay here instead of the B&B.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked considering his offer.

He nodded. “I rather stay here and use the driving time from there to here and back in learning more.” Deep down he loved the familiar energy.

“Mum, say yes! I can show Cillian my cars collection!” Arlo suggested excited.

“Well, yes. How can I say no?” She accepted earning a round of happy chants from everyone.

By the end of the day Cillian learned how to get the horse saddled, it was so important to hold it firmly in place. But also he learned to listen to the horse, he needed to make sure the horse was comfortable. Y/N suggested they could go for a walk and take the horses, it was extremely important for Cillian to learn to control the horse while being on the ground first to then be able to ride one.

The following day, they spent a good amount of time working on showing Cillian how to get on the horse, it took several attempts. It was harder than Y/N made it look. But Cillian was determined to give all of him. And more than once, he found himself staring at her until she motioned him to get closer to have a better look and he’d snap out from his trance.

In just a few days he realized Y/N had a very kind heart judging by the way she treated the horses, she showed them respect and loved them with every fiber in her body. The work she did was admirable, being right there away from everything and everyone allowed him to really understand a fundamental part of his character.

By the third day in the facility, Cia paid Goldie a visit, she wanted to take her mare back home but Y/N suggested waiting a few more days until she was fully recovered. While Y/N walked Cia to her vehicle, Cillian decided to stop by Thunder’s corral.

“Hello! Is Y/N around?” Val approached him. “Arlo said she was here.”

“She went to walk Cia out after checking her mare.”

Val doubted whether to ask him directly or not, but she knew her friend better than anyone. “I hope you don’t find me or what I’m about to say rude… but I’ve seen the way you look at her, Brie says Y/N is smiling again, something she hasn’t done much apart from Arlo of course. Do you like her?”

Cillian took a step back, surprised by Val’s sharp eye. But he ended up nodding.

“Don’t look at me like I grew another head, I care about her but I also know she has been disappointed and hurt before,” Cillian looked down, not knowing what to do or say, “she likes you, secretly.”

Val’s words made him snap his head up to look at her.

“She does, I can see it in her eyes… so all I ask is give her time, slowly just like you would start riding a horse, you don’t go galloping after getting on them. She’s like a wild horse after getting kicked so many times, she acts on defensive mode but underneath she’s a softy.”

And just as she arrived, she left, leaving Cillian alone to face an avalanche to a door he closed because when he signed the contract for the Peaky Blinders series, he decided to end the relationship he was in and making the firm decision that he’d focus on this project only.

But sometimes, life has a different plan than yours.

“I came here willing to learn how to ride, but I think I’m getting so much more than that.” Cillian confessed to the thorough, extending his hand to caress the horse’s muzzle.

***

Part 2

A/N: Nothing, just THANK YOU! ✨♥️🚬🥃

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @ironpen @kittycatcait219 @shelundeadxxxx @speckledemerald @creativepawsworld

#that’s what Cill said #cillian murhy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders

168 notes · View notes

mommopurinn · 10 months ago

Text

"Interspersion of light", Yomi and Juurou's after story

Now living peacefully, one day Yomi seems to have found a new ‘hobby’… It’s a story about an idle alien in late summer.

I was walking up the slope next to the hedge.

The gravel was heated by the sun, and the surroundings looked hazy, as if in a dream.

Bamboo leaves cast a shadow on one side of the road, attracting walkers.

A long and narrow path covered in shadow.

And after the end of the slope, the scorching heat continues.

I noticed an old man walking down and stepped out of the shadow.

When we passed each other, we bowed and tipped our hats.

Our sleeves brushed against each other.

It was late summer, when cicadas started to change their voices.

Having finished my 'work' before noon, I was coming back home, where he was waiting for me.

There’s a poetic word for late summer.

It’s supposed to make a melancholic impression, but today’s heat made you forget about it.

My 'work' was to go from home to the post office.

But only now have I thought that I shouldn't have underestimated this trip and should have brought a hand fan with me.

The front door was opened to let the wind in.

It passed through the gates along with me, and the wind chime rang in a clear sound.

This sound let him know that I had come back.

I took off the geta, hung up the hat, and wiped my neck, drenched in sweat, with the sleeve.

I crossed the corridor, trying to look as calm as possible.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back.”

He was the one who told me that I should have brought a hand fan.

Yomi smiled with just his eyes and dropped his gaze down to his hands. Slowly and steadily, scissors were eating into the paper.

There was a pile of small cut-out squares scattered around the tea table.

I sat on the opposite side, and he passed me a cup of tea he was drinking.

It tasted like water with melted ice.

We lived quietly.

I earned some money by writing poems and publishing them in magazines.

Earlier I went to the post office to send the manuscript.

“How was the response?”

“They keep urging me, so they must have liked it.”

“I see. This is good to hear.”

“...I don’t know about this.”

“Is it not impressive?”

“It’s just a miserable man’s feelings put on display.”

“I am quite happy to think that your words might save someone.”

“......”

“So, when will I get to read it?”

Yomi didn’t look away from his hands.

I looked at the radiant summer garden, listening to the faraway sound of cicadas and the nearby sound of scissors.

“I’ve told you many times. These are just my words to you put together as poems.”

“Then it should be fine for me to read it, right?”

“......”

On the second glance, I noticed that Yomi’s hands had stopped. He smiled at me, his eyes narrowed.

He was enjoying the way my voice had gotten stuck in my throat after his teasing.

“Words are fish, and poems are fossils.”

“I like fossils.”

“Words are fossils, and poems are soil.”

“I like soil as well.”

“Please, don’t make fun of me… I don’t want you to ask me of this only when you feel like it.”

He put down the scissors and walked out into the corridor with a smile on his face.

“It must have been hot,” he said, and I heard his footsteps heading to the kitchen.

I took the scissors in his stead and started cutting the paper in the same way he did.

These pieces of paper with one or two dots painted on them are called piece marks.

They're printed on food and housewares packaging.

I’m not sure why Yomi started collecting them. Probably out of boredom.

“Tarou-san sent us a gift.”

I heard Yomi’s voice from the kitchen.

At the same time I heard the sound of cork being pulled out.

“It’s your favourite orange juice.”

“First time I hear about that.”

Only my uncle and aunt know about our quietude.

They live in Aoyama and don’t visit this house.

They know it would be a burden for me if they tried to get closer.

Yomi came back and put two glasses on the tea table.

How nostalgic.

Memories of my uncle doing the same when we were kids came to mind.

“I finished cutting it out.”

“Thank you.”

“What will you do when you collect them all?”

“I will send them to Seijo elementary school. They have a box near the gates to collect offerings from the neighbourhood.”

He slid one mark across the table with his index finger.

Then he started to arrange the scattered cut-outs by the score.

When he collected ten one-point marks, he smiled in delight.

"Apparently, they can be exchanged for different goods according to the score. The school could buy an electric fan or a heater.”

“I see.”

“So it is like I am being a hero!”

“...Huh?”

I said involuntarily.

In a split second that I was looking down, Yomi had hidden his face behind a magazine.

It was Josei Nine for which I was writing.

“......”

“They have a special feature on fireworks.”

“...I see.”

“It seems like there will be a fireworks display in Tamagawa tonight.”

“......”

“Why don’t we go see it?”

“It’s far.”

“We can view it from the shrine nearby.”

Ice was crumbling inside the glass.

I nodded with a sigh, and Yomi lowered the magazine. Eyes, shaped like crescent moons, peeked at me.

Interspersion of light

"This brings back memories.”

We have gone to temple festivals before.

It was back when you still couldn’t walk.

You were drawn in by the sound of the fireworks, so I slipped out of our house, carrying you on my back.

Clutching on my clothes to not fall, you were watching the festival hustle and fireworks blooming in the sky with your eyes wide open.

And now you are standing next to me without my help.

“Am I wearing my yukata properly?”

“Yes. It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

A speaker that was supposed to be a siren was playing festival songs today.

Back then, I couldn’t do what I promised you.

I turned my back to the place you were pointing at, saying “I want to go”, and ran home as fast as I could.

Yomi was going up the stairs with a light sound.

I followed him, not running anymore.

Night market stalls were lined up on the temple grounds.

The crowd was brimming with excitement.

“It looked like a spaceship.”

“?”

Paper lanterns as portholes.

Old songs as an alien language.

From the very beginning, I always knew that you were not from this world.

“Like a ship that came to take you home.”

This temple was standing on a hill in the residential area.

Scared by the festival lights emerging from the evening darkness, I didn’t dare to come close.

And now, when I had finally revealed the truth, Yomi covered his mouth with both hands and laughed silently.

“My people are not that kind.”

“......”

I couldn’t know that.

“If no news came, I would be assumed dead. And this planet would be declared as an unsuitable environment.”

“So… no replacement or help would come?”

“The invasion efficiency rate is 100%. There is no chance that attack would be unsuccessful.”

“Then it’s 99%.”

“?”

“I’m talking about you.”

“Ah, this is what you mean… 1% that had stayed because of his own indecisiveness.”

I didn’t notice the moment I started holding his hand.

“Back then, I wanted to go only to learn about the folk beliefs of this world.”

“And did you learn anything?”

“Yes.”

Yomi’s cheeks turned red.

This smile was definitely meant for me, not for the mask.

“Ah!!!”

Yomi’s pupils suddenly widened.

He pointed behind me, shaking our joined hands.

“Look at this, Juurou!!”

I was dragged to the shooting range.

He was excitedly looking at the rice cooker put on display in the middle of the stall.

Did you really want something like this?

Would you even be able to use it considering how bad you are with machines?

Yomi ignored my confusion and got even more excited.

“Please!”

Nudged by their parents, children tried to get the rice cooker.

Every time the ball hit the box and bounced back, Yomi trembled slightly.

Even if you don’t rush…

“It’s usually impossible to get a prize like that.”

“You can’t know if you don’t try!”

Child who had missed the target left the shooting range.

Yomi took the gun in their stead and aimed, placing his elbows on the table.

I paid 30 yen to the shopkeeper.

Sounds of children firing blanks echoed next to us.

Even some parents who decided to try themselves have given up and started leaving.

The price of this is 30 yen.

Yet Yomi still aimed at the rice-cooker with his eyes wide-open.

It’s absurd.

Trying to get the target in the centre from the very side of the table.

“Aim at the underside.”

“......”

“You have three shots, and if you manage to push it down…”

It suddenly became very quiet, I thought.

Yomi looked up at me as I spoke with such seriousness and chuckled.

He brought one eye down to the gun and pulled the trigger.

A heavy sound that definitely wasn’t that of a blank hit the box.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

The box leaned back and was now supported by the stall’s curtain.

It was as if the rice cooker itself was surprised, having no plans to fall.

While me and the shopkeeper were staring at it in amazement, Yomi smiled shyly to the applause of the children.

When we left the stall, it was completely dark outside.

Yomi had a hundred-point piece mark in his hand.

And the rice cooker was put in the centre of the display again, with its box cut a little bit.

“Household appliances sure do give a lot of points!”

“It's good that we didn’t take the actual thing home.”

“It would have broken if I tried to use it.”

“It would.”

“Why do you seem so relieved?”

“Nothing can compare to the kamameshi you make.”

Darkness deepened. You could feel the autumn approaching.

But the crowd of people on the long road wanting to preserve the summer made the temperature rise.

Children wearing masks were shouting their secret techniques.

A dazzling earthling and an alien collecting piece marks.

I gripped Yomi’s hand even stronger than before.

“I am not going anywhere.”

Yomi answered me.

“I am here.”

“I still can’t trust you.”

It had been a while since the last time we walked together like this.

Even if I know that other people can see you, I still can’t help but think that this convenient happiness is just a dream.

“You are a man who can disappear as soon as I let go of your hand.”

It’s not as if I wanted to hear any excuses from him, but...

When I looked at his face, waiting for an answer, Yomi smiled, as always.

“Can you show me a face like this again?”

“?”

“It was very cute.”

“I’m not joking.”

I quickened my pace.

Yomi, whom I pulled with me, suddenly lost his footing.

He almost fell forward, but I caught him in my chest.

The strap of his geta was snapped.

The crowd went around us, who were standing still, and flowed forward like a river.

“Ah, it finally snapped.”

“These geta are quite old.”

I picked up the geta, lending him my shoulder instead.

The tree shadow on the side of the road was dim and concealed us from the noise.

He leaned back on the tree, and I kneeled before him, checking the geta.

They belonged to my young father or uncle.

The other one seemed fine at first glance, but when I looked closer, I saw that its strap was also damaged.

“Maybe it happened because I started running.”

“Because you tripped, probably.”

I ripped a strip from my handkerchief and twisted it into a small rope.

I tied it in place of the strap and put the geta on Yomi’s foot.

It was too loose and shook around.

It definitely needed to be readjusted.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s buy new ones at the stalls.”

I took Yomi’s ankle to try putting the geta on again.

Suddenly, as if coming out of smoke, his foot touched my chin.

“!”

He urged me to look up.

I didn’t notice when a gentle and affectionate smile appeared on his face.

“What do I need to do for you to believe me?”

“......”

His toes traced my Adam’s apple, pulled aside my collar, and touched my collarbone.

“I am always telling you that this is not a dream, am I not?”

In Yomi’s eyes, I saw myself furrowing my brows like a child.

Seeing me like this, he pulled his foot back.

His gaze went to the road, where the lights were shining.

I laid down the broken geta and put my hand on the side of his face.

I want to ask you so many things.

You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.

But…

I’m scared.

“I can’t love you when you’re so fickle.”

My vanity was melted away by the heat of the festival.

I’m sure Yomi felt the same.

“When I split this Earth into two… I think I was split as well.”

“......”

“We were both saved by Shin’ichi and walked the same path.

…But one thing that was different, was ‘her’, who was supposed to become your mother but fell in love with another being.”

Another… being.

“Just like a certain someone, she loved the blues of the Earth.”

“......”

“Because of this, you were never born; because of this, the world exists as it is now.”

“......”

“She really was a handful. To think that she would forget about her role in waking myself and put herself to ‘sleep’ as well…”

“......”

“However, I am not your dream…”

“What relationship did you have with my mother?”

“?”

Every time you mentioned ‘her’ while speaking in your familiar tone, my heart darkened.

“...Was she your partner?”

“Huh?”

Yomi’s eyes opened wide, and he burst into laughter.

But when he saw that I didn’t laugh with him, he closed his mouth, swallowing the rest.

“What did you find so weird?”

“I am sorry; I did not think that you would care about this.”

“You thought that I wouldn’t care?”

“Are you jealous?”

“......”

“Please, do not worry.”

One hand touching the other, our fingers intertwined.

“I only ever had one partner in my life. It is you, Juurou.”

Vibrations shook the festival grounds.

Immediately, everyone looked at the sky.

Seeing Yomi’s cheek turn red, I realised that the fireworks has begun.

“Let’s go.”

Yomi took my hand and started running.

A black thread was tied in place of a geta strap that was about to snap again.

It seems like once more I missed the time when he started walking by himself.

Listening to the sounds of fireworks behind my back, I ran up the long stone stairs.

When I looked back at the wide open sky, I saw dots of light spreading throughout it.

Colourful fireworks bloomed in it and then faded away.

Probably, residents of all the wardens gazed at these lights and sounds, yearning for the stars.

“Thousands of meteors have fallen in the last hundred years.”

One more firework went up.

“Even before I arrived, ‘all kinds of things’ came here flying.

And humans must have come in contact with them.”

“They probably did.”

“And when needed, their sleeping protective instinct must have been awakened.”

Just as hawks have claws and bees have venom, we, who live on the same planet, must have the power to fight.

So maybe heroes called Icaruses were an immune response meant to protect the Earth.

“This planet is not suited for an alien like me after all.”

“It looks quite peaceful to me.”

“Do you really think so?”

“?”

“Do not mind me.”

What did you imply by that…

“Did you know that there was heavy rain yesterday?”

“Ah, I heard about it. It’s good that Sayashi residence wasn’t flooded even for a millimetre.”

“And there was a case with people growing animal ears. Maybe it really was a dream, just as you say.”

“It was. And you looked extremely good.”

“......”

Yomi snuggled closer to me, as if asking to stay this way.

“When you die, I will destroy the Earth.”

One more firework went up.

“But until then, I will protect your peace.”

“I won’t die.

I’ll be reborn as a blue flower next. The colour that you love so much.

When you find me, take me and put me in your hair.

And by the time I wilt, I’ll be reborn as a new flower once again.”

You didn’t laugh at my words.

Looking at you shedding tears, I was the one who laughed.

Please, tell me if there are any mistakes or places that sound weird.

#uuultra c #adelta #yomijuurou #hibarino yomi #sayashi juurou #momo purin translations

69 notes · View notes