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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

Note

Aww I loved the Benedict fic u wrote please consider making it a series <33

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | 2

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: reader’s last name is Everly but otherwise none.

Author’s Note: Woops

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

Dearest readers,

So it seems that our Diamond is an entirely unexpected member of the ton. One, this author must admit, that was not expected. Miss Edwina Sharma has arrived from India with her mother and elder sister, after being away for far too long. Perhaps this season will change their residency for good.

The first ball of the season is sure to be promising. It is with great interest that this author also informs you all that the second Bridgerton brother was seen kissing the hand of one Miss Everly in the park this week. Could this be the true match of the season? Or was Mr. Bridgerton simply being polite? Lady Bridgerton having three weddings in one season would be almost too perfect, would it not?

We shall see.

You’re truly,

Lady Whistledown

“That woman is truly insufferable!” She exclaimed, throwing the papers on her desk and covering her face. “He simply introduced himself!”

Annalise, her lady’s maid, looked at her thoughtfully as she pulled out the dresses from the modiste. “It is merely gossip, Miss Everly. You know how she is. It means nothing.”

Being the subject of gossip was the opposite of what she wanted. Not if she ever wanted to be more than a pretty girl with a pretty husband. She huffed in frustration, falling back in her chair and crossing her arms. Then she glanced at herself in the mirror, frowning.

“It means everything, Anna,” she said, looking at her maid in the mirror. “What if we dance tonight and I make a fool of myself? People will be watching.”

“I am quite sure Mr. Bridgerton wouldn’t let you make a fool of yourself,” her father’s voice reassured from the doorway.

She quickly sat up straight, turning to look at him with surprise. “Father, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He waved his hand, walking into her room now to sit on her bed. “I simply wanted to check on you after this morning’s latest. You are taking it far better than I anticipated; your mother is quite thrilled, of course.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Only because she knows I’ll have callers now.”

“You already have had three, actually,” he informed her, grinning.

She frowned deeply, looking at him in surprise. “What? And no one told me?”

“I may have informed them you were preoccupied with your studies and to return tomorrow.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before she let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, papa. I am…I just don’t think I’m ready. Not today, anyway.”

He nodded, clasping his hands together. “You will know when you’re ready, my dear. I do hope after tonight you feel more confident; I know your mother is very focused on finding you a husband. I simply want you to remember your worth.” Lord Everly stood, walking over to her now as she stood and hugged him tight. His arms wrapped around her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You will be wonderful tonight. And if you need to be saved, I will be there to swoop in and do so.”

“I know, papa. Thank you.”

*****

“I can’t do this.”

There were too many people, the music was too loud, the air too stuffy. She stood in the doorway, trembling as her mother tried to push her forward. But she stood rooted in place, unable to move her feet. Eyes were drifting to her and she could just hear the whispers of everyone in the room. Even the queen had eyes on her, narrowed and scrutinizing as her father took her arm gently and pulled her inside.

“You’re going to be fine; just breathe,” he whispered, leaning in close as they walked.

She nodded once, taking a deep breath as they finally joined the fray of eligible bachelors and ladies looking for their match. Her mother patted her shoulder gently as Lady Cowper approached, complimenting their attire in a very backhanded way. Her father simply rolled his eyes, murmuring he was going to fetch them lemonade before releasing her to her mother.

The ribbon that held her dance card to her wrist felt too tight suddenly, and she started to fiddle with it to distract herself. Maybe if she was lucky, everyone would simply ignore her tonight and she could join Eloise and Penelope in the corner, away from the dance floor.

Alas, luck was not on her side because as soon as she moved to join Eloise and Penelope, the new Lord Featherington stepped into her path. He wrote his name on her dance card, the first of the night, and smiled at her charmingly. Soon followed other young men, filling her card until only one spot left —of which, she lied about. Insisting it was full.

Hoping that, maybe, Benedict Bridgerton would fill that final spot.

Unfortunately, though, it was not Benedict that came for her last dance. But instead, the Viscount himself. And she couldn’t simply say no to Anthony Bridgerton; her mother would lose her mind. So she gave up her final spot to the eldest Bridgerton, smiling politely as he scribbled his name down and made his way to his first dance of the evening. Lord Featherington returned to her side, offering her his arm as he led her to the dance floor.

He was by no means a bad dancer; and he was quite polite as they spoke. But the conversation was dull, and focused very much on his endeavors in the states. While she was certainly fascinated by the idea of traveling there, she wasn’t interested in being talked down to about how much she would enjoy the food and company. So she simply smiled and nodded along, allowing him to turn spin her when appropriate. Then she curtsied politely as the song ended, retreating back to her spot on the edge.

“Cousin Jack is an exceptional dancer,” Penelope said, stepping to her side as she looked at the dance floor.

She nodded in agreement, looking down at the red head with a small smile. “He is, yes. Very polite too.”

“And I saw that Anthony asked you for a dance.”

She nodded once again, her smile getting just a bit bigger. “He did, yes. Though, he took my last spot. I wasn’t expecting him to want to dance with me.”

“Why not?” Penelope asked, looking up at her in surprise. “He is looking for a wife; and you are very pretty, and intelligent. He does like both of those —according to Eloise, at least.”

She scoffed a bit, looking over her dance card.

“Ladies.”

She looked up, bowing her head as Collin approached with a bright smile. He held his hand to Penelope, motioning for her to join him. Penelope looked at her with a timid smile, blush creeping up her cheeks, and apologized for leaving her. But she just waved her off, insisting that the red head have her fun. There were plenty of young men waiting for her to dance with them, anyway.

The remainder of her night was just that. Young bachelors, all vying for her affections. She danced with each one, allowing them to question her history and her hobbies. More than one spent the entire dance talking about himself, and their possible futures without letting her get a word in edgewise. Some were nicer than others, seeming genuinely interested in her answers and her own questions. But it certainly felt more like interrogations than anything else.

Her final dance was with Anthony Bridgerton, though he was seemingly nowhere to be found. While she wasn’t going to complain about his disappearance —truthfully, the viscount was an intimidating man and the conversations she had overheard between him and other partners told her more than enough —she did wonder where he got off to. Though she certainly wasn’t going to search for him.

Standing alone against the window, she watched as everyone danced and mingled. From this perspective, it was like a scene from a dream. Glittering, bright, and excited. Everyone with something, someone looking for their true love. A fairytale in the making, perhaps, for someone else. Without much thought, she sat in the windowsill, humming to the music as she pulled her little notebook from the pocket that she always had Madame Delacroix sew into her skirts. She snagged the pencil off her dance card, tearing the string some to make it usable.

Maybe it was inappropriate to be writing about the members of the ton, making them pieces of a story that she mapped out. But they made excellent character studies; and people watching was certainly more interesting than dancing with any of them. Most of them she knew, but the ones she didn’t —those were who she wrote about. Adding details to their lives to make them into more interesting beings. Changing names, adding secrets. All jotted down in a little notebook that she carried with her for moments like this.

Moments of inspiration, and admiration.

While she may not want to be directly involved in any of it, she liked to watch it pan out. She enjoyed seeing lovely ladies in beautiful dresses, twirling like they were floating on air. Or the handsome young men, wanting nothing more to swoop in and declare themselves. It made for an excellent love story.

“I don’t think the pencil was meant to be torn from your wrist.”

She looked up from her book, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks as Benedict stood before her with that same crooked grin from the other day. With a quick flourish, she closed her book and slipped it behind her back, smiling up at him.

“I needed something to write with,” she explained simply, though it was obvious.

“I see that,” he teased some, motioning for her to move over. When she did, he sat beside her in the window. “And what exactly were you writing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, nothing,” she insisted, looking down at her hands, as if she were embarrassed. She was far from it; but she couldn’t keep looking at him.

“Miss Everly,” he whispered rather dramatically, leaning in close. “Are you Lady Whistledown?”

It was certainly not an accusing tone. Actually, when she looked up to protest, he was still grinning at her, a teasing gleam in his eye. And so she grinned back, pulling her book out.

“Oh yes, I am certainly the one writing about myself in the papers,” she joked, opening her book back up to where she left off. “No, I am not Lady Whistledown. I just…I like to write, that’s all. My father insisted I carry my journal with me, to write when I feel inspired.”

“And you’re inspired by the ball?” He asked, looking over the scribbles and scratched out words in her page.

“I am inspired by the desires of everyone in this room, who want nothing more than to love and be loved,” she explained simply. Though now that she said it out loud, she felt silly. “Or whatever the poets say. I’m sorry, I’m sure that sounded foolish.”

He watched her thoughtfully, then turned his attention back to the dance floor. Eloise was uncomfortably dancing with someone, though she also looked as if she was ready to hit him. Benedict knew he should probably intervene, but the young woman beside him was far more interesting. Anyone that chooses to write instead of dance is someone he wanted to speak to.

“I do believe the poets share the exact sentiment you do. Why else would they write?” He asked her, returning his attention to her once more.

“I suppose the same reason as any artist —to make their mark on the world.”

Benedict opened his mouth to comment but stopped himself, instead nodding thoughtfully in agreement. She watched him closely, taking in how he looked before her. His hair a bit disheveled, as if he hadn’t actually been prepared to join the party. It was the dot of yellow that caught her attention, just below his jaw. As if he had swiped something there and it left a mark.

“You have a bit of…” She reached up without thinking, running her thumb below his jaw gently and wiping away the spot.

Benedict’s heart practically jumped into his throat as she touched him; he wasn’t expecting it. But she pulled away and held up her hand, her glove now stained with whatever was on him. He realized it was paint from earlier; he had gotten caught up with a lovely young model and she was…well, she was a fan of his tools. Benedict swallowed hard and laughed a bit.

“Paint,” he explained, shaking his head. “You are a writer, Miss Everly, and I am a painter. Or, I’m trying to be.”

She looked up at him in surprise, then back at the paint on her glove. “I had no idea, Mr. Bridgerton,” she expressed, and for the first time tonight, she was excited. “Paint then —that’s your preferred medium?”

Benedict smiled down at her with a nod. “Paint, and charcoal. Both are wonderful but I want to explore everything if I’m given the chance.”

“Have you been painting long, then?”

“I started when I was young,” he explained, looking back over the crowds. “But I started more after my father passed. It was…an excellent escape, I think.”

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, following his gaze. “I write to escape as well, though not due to anything nearly as tragic.”

“Sometimes,” he said, looking down at her. Her heart pounded in her ears, and his voice was almost muffled by the sound. The way he looked at her was more than she had ever experienced. “We just need a moment to escape, don’t we?”

She nodded in agreement, unable to find the words to respond. For a writer, being at a loss for words was never a good thing. But something about the way Benedict spoke to her, looked at her —there were no words needed.

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton imagine

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taegularities · 2 years

Note

GOOD MORNING, BEAUTIFUL RID. it’s 07:47 here. thank you for another masterpiece.

Jungkook is one to walk through the world carelessly, a free spirit. Living life as it comes. At least that’s the picture you’ve painted of him in your head. And to know that he, too, feels insecure about his own work sometimes drenches him in something… authentic.

this is like a quote from a poetry book i read 🥺

“I’m not afraid to take you right here.”

sir-

“And both of us slid down the damn ramp like a skateboard.”

JSNDNDNAJFNA PLEASE!!!!!!

Jungkook can’t fight the laugh that his suggestion calls forth, and he covers it with a shirtsleeve covered hand; his eyes little moons.

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

[…] Nara…

stfu

“You looked like you were in a better mood afterwards, though,” Yoongi insists, adding more chaos to the madness.

🥹

Peculiar how his words flood you with motivation you haven’t felt before; hope and optimism you want to hold onto.

aah this one is gonna hurt-

That’s the last sentence on the page – it reminds him of you.

YOU BETTER STOP

“I can concentrate a lot better with you around.”

🤣🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭

“For when I get into an actual relationship.”

my heart broke at that bit of jungkook comparing their lives ):

Who knows what they will print and write into their journals and news? He’s way out of your league anyway – or at least that’s what everyone will say once this picture is printed. Not least of all because of the clear difference between your reputations: yours is enormous – and his non-existent.

STOP 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“But I’m here willingly,” he whispers, “I like being with you.”

AAAAAAAAH

“if I’m somewhat okay, little angel… may I kiss you then?”

YES PLEASE GO AHEAD ANDMEKRIEKAMD

“I can’t fuck you stupid if you pass out on me already.”

🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕

“Why are you holding back?” he asks, the smile cocky and lustful; nothing new. “Don’t you think everyone in this house already knows?” He pushes his fingers in harder, rubbing against the rough patch inside you. “That I fuck any logic out of you all the damn time?”

you’re so good at smut and fluff and angst i can’t!!!!

He wraps his fingers around your messy bun and tugs just lightly, pulling your head back.

🐕🐕🐕🐕

“But,” he interrupts, nearly hissing, “you can’t always get what you want, though, can you?”

🥵 but then

“No,” he whispers, his hand leaving your hair to grip your jaw, “no. Let me just please you today, yeah?”

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice husky and quiet, kind of intimidating… but still fond somehow. “We’re not done yet.”

JESUS CHRIST

Devours your sounds, watches logic and thinking abilities slip out of your head entirely. The curve of his shaft reaches every sensitive spot inside you, rubs desperately.

oh dear lord

The nickname, usually an irritating term, launches you up and above the clouds; suddenly endearing… maybe even sweet.

oh no-

His lips skim the apple of your cheek… up to your temple; place a kiss on one of your eyebrows with closed eyes.

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

And Jungkook’s heart falls – down and deep into a pit.

EXCUSE ME RID I LOVE YOU BUT WHY?

WAAAAAHHHH PAULEEEEYYYYYY I DON'T DESERVE U !!!!!! u know i absolutely love how u point out most of the things i want pointed out while writing, like u're so 😭 <33

okay, this poetry quote ?! u need to share !! and not the stfu at nara's mention omg 😭 and oh. yeah. if that makes u think this one's gonna hurt, then have fun reading the future parts cos..... 😮‍💨 BUT PLEASE, the 'for when i get into an actual relationship' hurt me sO BAD, TOO !!!

jk comparing his life to oc's.... i know, it really drags him down, but my boy stays strong for her and never says anything :(((( he deserves the best *sniff*

losing it at the cat emojis 🤣 and the 🦋🦋 are real, too goshhhhh </3 ALSO HAHAHAH I'M SO SORRY I KNOW THE ENDING IS MEAN, but i promise things are gonna make sense and work out <3 thank u so much as always, this put such a big smile on my face 😭 i love u fr 😭

#fic: colour me in #notes for rid 🌹#pauli <3

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meltingpotimagines · 3 years

Text

Husband!Hawks

this mans

is not husband material

but!

for the right girl? he may be willing to play the part

listen, mans may not be a simp but he is cHARMING okay? he got potential

besides he’s lowkey a simp for the right girl but whatever

was very romantic when he proposed

managed to rent out an entire park perks of being the #2 hero

decked out a gazebo with fairy lights, candles, and rose petals

considered making a heart with the rose petals but decided just scattering them around would be classier and less cheesy

set up a picnic with a basket f u l l of food

sandwiches, cheese, fruit, desserts, the works

and ofc a bottle of champagne bc tonight you two would be celebrating

or so he hoped

you wouldn’t say no right?

i mean who could say no to that gorgeous face pHEW

pulled out the ring box right as you swallowed the last of the macaron you’d been nibbling on

his heart sped up as your eyes widened, a breathless ‘keigo’ escaping your lips

“i know you might not be ready, but the more i get to know you, the more i realize that i don’t want to live the rest of my life without you. you’re the girl of my dreams, and i never want to wake up. would you marry me?”

“are you s t u p i d? ofc i will!”

his grin has never been as bright as it was at that moment

slipped the ring onto your finger and immediately pulled you into his arms and took off into the air

slowed your assent as you two soared above the clouds and spun around, unable to contain his joy

gazed at your face with those golden eyes, taking in your beauty, before giving you the sweetest, most tender kiss you’ve ever felt

oh boy the wedding

when i tell you this was an e v e n t i mean anyone who was anyone wanted to go to this wedding

but only those that were close to the two of you were invited

haha suckerrrs

somehow got all might to officiate

who knew all might could officiate weddings?

certainly neither of you

no one really knows how that decision came to be but i mean no one was complaining either so

he let you make all the decisions except for one

the flowers

he h a d to be involved in the flowers

he appreciates pretty flora and if the bouquets and floral arrangements at his wedding weren’t the prettiest possible he would n o t be satisfied

teared up as you walked down the aisle (which he will neither confirm nor deny)

not that he wasn’t lookin’ mighty fine too

just imagine: tan suit with a black button up and a gold tie, gold cufflinks with a ruby set in each

i know those are his costume colors but he looks good in them so y’all can fight me

dipped you for your first kiss as husband and wife to everyone’s amusement

best believe a few different cameras caught that

the timing of the wedding was planned out so the reception was held at night

semi-sheer white tents and custom black ten-feet tall candelabras

the soft glow from the candles combined with the moonlight made for the perfect dreamy vibe

he managed to find a florist that could dye white roses black and cover them them with a thin layer of gold glitter

was it necessary? no

did it look good? heck yeah

the gold glitter shined beautifully against the black roses

tho

the way your eyes sparkled as you danced with him was far more captivating

you two had flown up into the sky to dance your first dance together

your silhouettes against the bright moon made for a perfect picture

the only reason you ended up coming down was because neither of you had eaten much that day and a guy’s gotta eat

he gonna need stamina later *winky face*

you cannot convince me the man wouldn’t insist on fried chicken

like a whole buffet table of different flavors

but i mean fried chicken is good so can’t blame him

everyone expected him to smear some cake on your face when he fed you that first piece

instead wiped off the frosting that got on your lips with his thumb and licked it off

your best friend caught t h a t one on camera and will never stop teasing you about how flustered you got

he kept up a great image of a polite host but on the inside he was ready to g o

it had been a long day and he was ready love on his wife

heh

wife

he likes the sound of that

peppers your face with kisses on the ride home

yeah yeah i know h o n e y m o o n but where y’all were goin’ was forever away and mans just wants to shower you with affection as soon as possible (esp considering he had to keep his hands off you all day since you two never had a moment alone)

scoops you up the second you’re out of the car and carries you over the threshold

gives you a soft kiss before putting you down

and that’s the last soft kiss you’re gonna get for the night lolllll

definitely the type to make you breakfast in the morning

also the type to cook in nothing but an apron and boxers but anyway

you better be up in time to see that sight bc if not, you’re getting breakfast in bed not that i’d complain

he’s not the best cook but mans can manage some bacon and eggs

plus some fresh fruit bc it makes it more visually appealing and less like he doesn’t really know how to cook

he set the tray on your lap and climbs back into bed, pulling you into his side so your head can rest on his chest as you two munch on breakfast

there’s something so soothing about the sound of his heartbeat

a soft little rhythm that nearly puts you back the sleep

didn’t help that he was unconsciously running his fingertips along your arm, drawing random squiggles and shapes

will tilt your head up by the chin every so often to give you a little peck on the lips

if you do fall asleep, he’ll just gaze at you softly while lightly tracing your features

still can’t process that you’re married

someone actually loved him enough to marry him

there was someone that didn’t just admire or use him bc of his quirk

didn’t give him attention purely bc he’s the number 2 hero

you saw all his flaws and shortcomings and insecurities and loved him regardless

if he’s dreaming, please don’t wake him up

you cleaning him wings for him is something he loves so much

it’s such an intimate task that makes him feel cared for

loved

how much time you take in cleaning them and how tenderly you handle each wing

it’s one of his favorite ways to spend time with you

it’s nice being taken care of for once, esp when he’s always taking care of others

absolutely loves taking you on night flights

will take you in his arms and just soar above the clouds

with the clouds below you and the stars above, it feels like you two are the only people that exist

definitely dances with you during some of those flights

wraps one arm more tightly around your waist and take your hand in his and just… slowly spins in the air

it doesn’t look like much but when you’re just looking into each other’s eyes, it feels like the most romantic and intimate moment you could ask for

your life is quite literally in his hands but you’ve never felt safer

even more so when you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook

his arms wound securely around your waist, the comforting smell of his scent, the kisses he presses to your temple every so often

it feels like home

likes startling/scaring you a lot

will sneak into the house after work just so he can tap on your shoulder from behind

the gasp you let out as you freak out for half a second never fails to amuse him the jerk

will always make it up to you with long, deep kiss

if he gets home late after a long day he’ll just crawl into bed and pull you into his arms before burying his face into your hair

no talking, just breathes in your scent before he crashes

he sleeps really well like that, but, although he won’t admit it, he sleeps best when you hold him, his face buried in your chest

he feels warm and safe, like it’s okay to be vulnerable for once

absolutely flirts with you while at work

probably definitely sends you a few spicy pics or texts

it gives him such smug satisfaction knowing the affect he has on you when he’s not even physically there

picks up take-out when he knows your too tired to or would rather not cook

like to back hug you and wrap you up with his wings

9/10 times will bury his face in your neck and nuzzle

sometimes if he spots you while on patrol, he’ll fly over and flirt with you

“how you doin’, gorgeous? the name’s hawks. what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in a neighborhood like this?”

sir, this is one of the safest areas in the city pLS-

but if you actually a r e in danger? oh boy

no one, and i mean no one, touches his girl

honestly i’d rather fight bakugo one on one than deal with keigo’s wrath

he’s one of the chillest people you will ever meet, but when he’s that mad? s c a r y

will keep a close watch on you for a while after that

asks you to always let him know where you’ll be and to text him when you get home

definitely considered installing a tracking app on your phones

he’ll calm down eventually, but for the moment he’s extremely anxious

although he certainly tried his best to hide it

he didn’t want to stress you out too, especially if you had any anxieties from it yourself

he was just afraid to lose you

he doesn’t know what he’d do without you

after all, you’re the most precious thing in the world to him and he loves you more than he could ever put into words

#happy birthday b #hope you enjoyed this #hawks #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks x reader #keigo #keigo imagine #keigo headcanons #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #my hero academia #mha imagine #mha headcanons #boko no hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons

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deluluass · 3 years

Text

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow.

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled.

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know.

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair.

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--”

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?”

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest.

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked.

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders.

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay.

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back.

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

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

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really.

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it.

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart.

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness.

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left?

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

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways.

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse.

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad.

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh.

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment.

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else.

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.”

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye.

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.”

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now.

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him.

Damn you, Hotchner.

You don’t sleep a wink. When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment.

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.”

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--”

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance.

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor.

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

@itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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knullanon · 3 years

Text

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

#yandere knull #yandere cletus kasady #yandere carnage #yandere eddie brock #yandere venom #yandere anti-venom #yandere marvel #yandere marvel comics

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Note

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7 — reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

340 notes · View notes

circethegoblin · 3 years

Text

STAYING ALIVE MASTERPOST, FROM A BROKE TEEN WITH ADHD

here you go. some down to earth tips on how to not die metally nor physically.

tired of those "drink three liters of water everyday uwu" and "wake up at 5 am" and "buy a bath bomb and a fec mask and some other things you don't have the money for" shit? i'm here for ya.

1. NOT DYING

eat at least three meals a day, one of which m u s t be warm and above 300 kcal (it can be istant ramen with an egg added if you have to)

you technically should shower everyday, but we know how it is. A change of clothes is sometimes enough.

DRY SHAMPOO AND BABY WIPES!!!

keep bottles with water everywhere. On your desk, near that spot on the floor you always end up sitting on, near your bed, basically whenever you know you spend a lot of time. No need to get up and go to the kitchen will help. Obviously change the water in the bottles as often as you can.

Get some form of physical activity. It doesn't have to be much, you can for example replace scrolling on tiktok by walking around your room and scrolling on tiktok! Brilliant, isn't it? Obviously, running or doing those 10 minutes workouts from youtube is better, but you are still getting like an hour of walking.

Buy blankets. Steal blankets. Summon blankets from other dimensions. Just make sure you have a lot of warm, soft blankets in your house. You will thank me when you won't have the anergy to wash your sheets (just take them off and throw some blankets on your bed), or when the power goes out.

If you have pets, ALWAYS keep spare food that'll last for a week for them.

things to always have in the kitchen: milk, eggs, flour, rice, pasta, yeast, cheese, oil, a leafy vegetable, onions, tomatoes, apples, patatoes, some flavourful sauce, sugar, salt, spices and an emergency chocolate bar. You can make a lot of food with those. Just make sure you won't eat the chocolate too fast.

Have a lot of spare batteries. A lot.

Get urself a flashlight, a lighter, and a pocket knife.

Remember the apples? eat one a day. if you don't like apples or you can't eat them for any other reason, you can take a kiwi, banana, orange, basically something that will give you vitamins and non processed sugar.

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

drugs from that one guy around the corner = very bad time

2. NOT DYING INSIDE

Open the damn window.

Don't watch so many commentary videos. You are probably not even checking the sources, so you can easily make unjust judgement, and like. did you even hear of half of those people before?

make a discord server just for yourself. get into the habit of writing little things that happened to you there. rant about the fanfics you read. or the movies. vent there if you don't have anyone you can vent to. write your ideas there, write e v e r y t h i n g. make a section for passwords, for quick ideas, for your to do lists. you won't lose it as you do with sticky notes or notebooks. there is no risk anyone will see it. oh, and when you'll have a strong impulse to tell emily that you hate her? write that message in your private server and list all ur arguments. look at tat the next day and decide if you really mean that.

life sucks. come to peace with it.

cuddle ur pets if you have them

1 hour a day without a lot of sensory input. if you have to, reduce to half an hour.

if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through social media, make sure it's pintrest (just don't compare urself to the people here; if you have issues with that, tumblr may be better)

delete. twitter. from. your. phone.

influencers are lying to you; maybe not even intentionally. remember when you were watching that cute-aesthetic-productive morning routine, and you were wondering why your life isn't that pretty? why your room is a mess? why you cannot for the life of god be aesthetic 24/7? its the filter. don't worry about it, their lifes arent that nice either.

realize there's actually nothing stopping you from screaming as loud as you can right now. like there is no physical barrier. think about it. realize there's no actual physical barierr to many other things.

your body is your body. you can decide how it looks like; just remember it's in your greatest interest to keep it healthy.

3. BEING A LITTLE BETTER THAN JUST ALIVE

If you wear make up, take it off before you go to sleep.

moisturize your body; everything is better when your skin doesn't feel dry

have a one brand of cosmetics that you love and buy things mainly from it. they often have sets of products that complete each other. i like ziaja. it's a polish brand, it's surprisingly cheap and has nice quality

cleanser, moisturizer, face mist

of you can, change your sheets once every two weeks

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

do a deep house clean once a month (don't beat yourself up when you don't tho)

keep your workspace organized (it doesn't have to look organized to other people, remember)

sunscreen

cook your own food

keep a calendar

no money for scented candles? got ya. make a simmer pot: throw some apple peel, a couple of cinnamon sticks and whatever spices that smell good you have into a pot, add some water and simmer. boom. your house smells good, and you haven't spend 20 dollars.

If you really like candles, buy scented wax melts. it's cheaper.

Buy urself scented mists. they're pretty cheap and will make you feel A LOT better.

keep your clothes clean. if you aren't sure if that shirt thats on your chair is dirty or not, throw it in the washing mashine anyway. better be sure.

if you can, make your bed right when you get up

wear clothes that make you feel good. put some effort into your outfits. really.

4. OTHER PEOPLE

be nice to essential workers.

if you have money, give tips.

remember, you do not owe anyone love; it is not something you can force. even if they saved your life. even when they helped you in your darkest time. if you don't love them, you don't.

you don't have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy.

if you want to, date! date everyone! date girls, date boys, date nonbinary people! date people completly different than you, date people from different countries, date them!!! just make sure they're kind and won't kill you. even if you don't end up in a relationship, you can learn a lot.

don't be afraid to piss off people that deserve it

smile to strangers :)

5. NOT FAILING SCHOOL

heard of dark academia? check it out

romanticize the heck out of studying

do not let your studying be just reading the same partagraph over and over again. it won't work. believe me.

seterra for geography, quizlet for everything else

try to make yourself intrestet in whatever you are studying (watch veritasium, listen to podcasts about weird history facts)

notes are for you and you only; don't worry about them looking pretty. doodle on margins, make weird metaphors, squeeze in as much info as you can.

when you're studying, listen to music without words/in a language you don't understand.

chew gum while you study

get the forest app, get attached to the trees, focus.

don't feel guilty for taking breaks

grades aren't everything, but they are important.

eat something in school

don't just use the cheapest pens. invest a couple dollars in something that will make writing enjoyable and smooth

those study with me videos? they're great

if you like to argue with the teachers, take care of your grades becouse. they may not like you afterwards.

be nice to your classmates and help them with homework. if you don't do your homework they'll help you

executive dysfunction won't let you study? been there. sometimes it's better to wake up ealier tommorow and do that homework then.

don't feel guilty for failing a test

go to the goddamn class

don't pull all nighters oh my god don't especially on weekdays

6. OTHER LIFEHACKS

don't get involved in the crime, and if you do always have a believable explanation why you were doing it

have different alarm sounds for every day of the week

set a daily limit of money that you spend

great hobbies that don't require a lot of money; urban exploration, writing, hiking and learning other languages

thrift stores

don't eat grapefruits while on meds

nail polish removers dissolve most strong glues.

if you have a cut on your skin, desinfect it. do it. please just do it.

always have pads with you. even if you don't get periods, at least one of your friends probably does

#life hacks #life #not dying #staying alive #no one will see this #who cares though

58 notes · View notes

xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years

Note

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. ��

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

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

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Your idea of madam nie!jgy is really good could u wrt that ?

for those who don’t remember, the Madame Nie!JGY idea is here and here

- on ao3 -

Untamed verse

Paperwork.

The bane of Nie Huaisang’s life.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was moderately clever, sometimes scaling up to very clever if he was irritated, but somehow he’d never had the ability to keep facts and figures and exact sentences straight in his head. Any teaching done through rote memorization (in other words, most of it) was wasted on him, and the few things he could keep track of, usually in over-abundant and hyper-specific detail, weren’t the sorts of things that were especially helpful.

Or, well, they were helpful in figuring out what clothing to wear or whether art was good or bad, and occasionally in being able to figure out where people should sit in a hall in order to either minimize or maximize the opportunity for incidents that would create gossip, but they really weren’t helpful if what you were trying to do was run a very large and very industrious sect.

His brother handled the majority of it, of course, as sect leader, and naturally he hadn’t stinted on hiring talented deputies – admittedly, the Nie sect threw around the word deputy the way an especially enthusiastic firefighter tossed around water and sand, but most sects had a more settled bureaucracy in place than the Nie sect did and it was an important position, even if it was usually just a gateway to being put somewhere you actually fit rather than a permanent spot for most people – but in the end there were some things that required the signature of a member of the Nie clan and Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang very reluctantly supposed (if he had to), couldn’t do everything.

He groaned and put his head down on the table.

This never happened when Meng Yao was here, he thought bitterly.

Meng Yao had been one of his brother’s finds, someone he’d promoted in a fit of temper as usual, but to just about everyone’s surprise he had turned out to be amazing at logistics and organization, able to quickly gain expertise in really everything and anything a sect needed to run. After a few months he knew most things, and the things he didn’t know he could either figure out or speculate on with relative accuracy. He’d been amazingly efficient, and it had made Nie Mingjue happy – happy not just to have such good help and to have his taste in subordinates confirmed, but also to see Meng Yao flourishing as his deputy, his real deputy, to see him pleased and respected the way his talents so obviously deserved…

Nie Huaisang sighed. If only his stupid brother had gone ahead and just sworn brotherhood with Meng Yao when the idea had been proposed!

If only he’d done that, Nie Huaisang could have been acting cute and calling Meng Yao – no, wait, it was Jin Guangyao now, he kept forgetting – he could have been calling him ‘san-ge’ right now and hanging off his arm and soon enough Jin Guangyao would yield and do all the work for him, leaving only the actual signing for Nie Huaisang to do. And the work would’ve gotten done better than he would have ever done it, in less time, and he could’ve been spending his precious time doing literally anything else.

Ugh.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t entirely his brother’s fault that the whole plan hadn’t gone through. He hadn’t been the one to back out of the brotherhood idea – that’d been Lan Xichen, for some reason, even though he’d been the one to originally propose the idea, and obviously Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao weren’t going to swear brotherhood without him. It was Venerated Triad, not Venerated Duo.

It was just so unfortunate that the absence of a sworn brother relationship meant that Nie Huaisang had no basis to ask Jin Guangyao to help him out. Or, while he was imagining things, why not just go all the way and imagine that Jin Guangyao could just come back to Qinghe already.

He could run things in a way that made sense and was efficient, which would reduce Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, and Nie Mingjue’s stress levels going down meant that Nie Huaisang’s stress would go down. Way down. And Jin Guangyao’s stress levels would also be way down as well by virtue of, well, being back at Qinghe, where things made sense and he didn’t have to deal with his awful family of his which he seemed to value for some reason that Nie Huaisang didn’t understand and honestly didn’t want to understand. It’d be a win all around!

Ugh.

Life was just better when Jin Guangyao was around.

But what could be done about it? He couldn’t exactly suggest being sworn brothers with Jin Guangyao himself – you needed to do something impressive together to justify that, usually – and for all that he had his brother wrapped around his little finger, he knew perfectly well that Nie Mingjue might hire an unknown man as a deputy in a fit of temper but he’d never hire someone he fired, even if Jin Guangyao were willing to take the role of deputy again. Which he probably wasn’t now that he was all legitimate and recognized and stuff; it was probably beneath him.

If only there were another position available, something not a deputy, not a sworn brother, something where he could just run the Nie sect for the good of everyone –

Wait.

There was.

And, thanks to his brother’s misanthropic ways, the position was available.

Perfect!

“Congratulations, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang announced grandly, sweeping into his brother’s study.

“Just tell the treasury to cover the cost of whatever it is you broke or bought,” Nie Mingjue said without looking up, which, first, rude, and second, really? Awesome. Nie Huaisang was going to get so much mileage out of that one.

“Oh, da-ge, really. I wasn’t talking about me –”

“A miracle.”

“– shut up. I was congratulating you! It’s what little brothers like me should do for big brothers like you on the event of their engagement!”

There was a silence of about five deep breaths.

(Or at least, that’s how long Nie Huaisang assumed it was, provided that his brother was listening to his doctor’s orders about managing his anger, which he had damn well better be.)

Nie Mingjue put down the piece of paper he was working on, and gently laid down his brush to avoid breaking it like so many of the others, and looked up at Nie Huaisang, fixing all of his attention on him.

“Huaisang,” he said, his voice only slightly above a growl. “My what now?”

“Your engagement!” Nie Huaisang beamed at him. “The Sunshot Campaign is over, our father is avenged, and you’re already in your mid-twenties – that means it’s time to get moving on finding the perfect Madame Nie, and I’ve got a great candidate in mind for you.”

His brother looked uncomfortable. “Huaisang,” he said, and his voice was almost delicate. “You are aware…”

“I’ve taken your preferences into account,” Nie Huaisang assured him, and he was only mostly lying. His brother had liked Meng Yao a great deal, once upon a time, and even if they’d never actually slept together – his stupid anti-social brother probably hadn’t even hinted that he might be interested, what with the power differential and Meng Yao’s unfortunate familial history – there was no reason he couldn’t like Jin Guangyao, too, if only he’d give him a chance. Just because he didn’t like him right now didn’t mean anything about his preferences generally. “It’s not like I missed the vast increase in the amount of cutsleeve pornography in our library, okay?”

“That was not me.”

“I know it wasn’t you, but you got the benefit of it, didn’t you? Like I said: don’t worry. It’s a man. You can stop worrying, relax, and let me handle it.”

His brother’s face was doing the skeptical look again, the one where he looked like he was seriously doubting Nie Huaisang’s ability to put on clothing in the morning. He wasn’t five anymore, da-ge! Okay, eight, but only because he kept putting stuff on backwards while he was rushing. Maybe ten for formal clothing... “No, Huaisang.”

“No, really, I can –”

“The answer is no, Huaisang.”

That sounded depressingly final.

“What if I do the puppy eyes at you?”

“The answer is still no,” his brother said, going back to his paperwork, although he was smiling a little. “No, you may not set up an engagement for me; no, I will not agree; no.”

Damnit.

Okay, maybe Nie Huaisang should be tackling this from a different angle.

“It’s so good to see you!” Nie Huaisang gushed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to call Jin Guangyao now – after all, the other man was a few years his senior, and now that he was recognized by his father there wasn’t a class difference that would make it permissible for Nie Huaisang to call him by name the way he’d used to call Meng Yao. But they’d known each other for years, so Jin-qianbei might come off as pretentious and too formal, Jin-gongzi was definitely too formal, and were they really at the stage where he could call him Jin-xiong?

(Plus he already called Jin Zixuan Jin-xiong, so he’d have to figure out where Meng Yao fell in the hierarchy – except no one had ever clarified one way or the other. He was pretty sure Meng Yao was older, but even if he was it probably wasn’t appropriate to go around calling him Jin-da-ge.)

Now, Nie Huaisang had more or less made it his life policy to adopt virtual strangers as brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles, the more the better, but he also didn’t want to offend Jin Guangyao by making it seem like he didn’t respect his new position.

Especially when he wanted Jin Guangyao to do something for him.

“It’s good to see you too, Nie-gongzi,” Jin Guangyao said, and no, that wouldn’t do at all.

Nie Huaisang poked at him with his fan. “How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Huaisang, the way da-ge does. You were almost my san-ge, remember?”

“Nie-gongzi…”

“Huaisang!”

Jin Guangyao had an indulgent look on his face. “Very well, Huaisang.”

“Anyway, I know you’re busy with dealing with sect things – that hunt last month was great, sorry about da-ge being overenthusiastic but at least he had a really good time – and stuff like that, but I just wanted to swing by Lanling to congratulate you!” Nie Huaisang said, deciding to take the moment to barrel onwards. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last time, and so much has happened since you left Qinghe! You got accepted into the Jin sect! Recognized by your father! Given a name! A fancy title! A position! An engagement! A nice hat!”

“I’m sorry,” Jin Guangyao said. “I got a what?”

“A nice hat!”

“Nice try, Huaisang.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t even know who I’m setting you up with yet!” Nie Huaisang whined. “And it’s not like you don’t want to get married! Weren’t you thinking of marrying the Qin sect’s girl? I mean, before they backed out on account of swearing vengeance against your father and the Jin sect and all…”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said, gentle and polite as always, but in his own way just as firm as Nie Mingjue. They really would be a good match, and not just because it’d make Nie Huaisang’s life so much easier. “But I’m really much too busy to think about anything like that. Matters in the Jin sect, you understand…”

“But –”

“Huaisang, please.”

Damnit.

Nie Huaisang was going to need to think about this.

He hated thinking.

“It’s just so unfair,” Nie Huaisang moaned. “Why do people insist on making things hard? When it could be so easy if only they’d listen…”

“It sounds like a real tragedy,” Lan Xichen said, pouring him a cup of tea.

He was just barely managing to resist smiling, which was good – he didn’t smile that much anymore, not since whatever it was that happened to him a month or two back around the time the sworn brother ceremony was supposed to happen. No one knew what it was that happened, not even Lan Wangji (Nie Huaisang had asked), but it was making everyone worried; Nie Mingjue had wanted to go over to demand answers practically ever since but things just kept happening.

Mostly due to Lan Xichen, actually, now that Nie Huaisang thought about it.

First there was that failed sworn brotherhood thing – he’d been the one pushing the idea in the first place, but only a week before they actually did the ceremony Lan Xichen had suddenly showed up at the Unclean Realm, bursting into Nie Mingjue’s bedroom while he was resting during his recovery from the events at the Nightless City, and insisted they call the whole thing off. He’d been pale, his eyes wide and scared, but he’d refused to explain anything no matter how many times Nie Mingjue asked; he’d only been sad and oddly clingy for the entire week, refusing to leave until the planned date of the sworn brotherhood ceremony had passed with it unfulfilled.

Then he’d gone home, and things had seemed to be fine, only after the hunt at Phoenix Mountain and Wei Wuxian’s impromptu theft of a bunch of Wen prisoners of war – neither of which appeared to be due to Lan Xichen, admittedly – and right when everyone had been gearing up to go make a big fuss over it, Lan Xichen had abruptly revealed that he’d been investigating the Jin sect and they were up to their necks in all sorts of unfortunate things.

Secret demonic cultivation experiments, which one might understand, and buying corpses, a subject on which the Nie sect had always been remarkably open-minded, but also stealing beloved corpses and tomb robbing, more-than-likely murder, possibly even massacres of entire small clans, all as part of their experiments, and to top it all off there were a whole big number of rapes attributed to Jin Guangshan personally.

Madame Qin among them, which was why Jin Guangyao’s original marriage plans had fallen through. It wasn’t even worth considering it, not when there was a risk that poor Qin Su, who’d had such a crush on the gallant Jin Guangyao, might be his sister…

Anyway, while the Jin were still too powerful, as a Great Sect, to fully suffer the consequences of their actions, the Jin sect had been disgraced at the very moment that they thought they were on the rise. Jin Guangshan had even been talking about taking up the post of Chief Cultivator following Wen Ruohan’s demise, which he might have been able to swing since Nie Mingjue thought the idea of having a Chief Cultivator at all was bullshit, but now obviously that was completely out of the question.

Plus the whole thing had retroactively cleared Wei Wuxian’s name, leaving him free and clear to return to the Jiang sect as a hero who stood up against Jin sect presumptuousness and overreach when no one else would, which was a pretty big change from his previous political position, which was being widely known as an arrogant and dangerous hothead on the verge of being cast out of the sect for the good of the cultivation world at large despite them very, very obviously not wanting to do it.

Wei Wuxian had even been able to bring the Wen sect members he’d rescued back to the Lotus Pier with him, and now there was even talk that Jiang Cheng might marry Wen Qing (as someone who went to the Cloud Recesses lectures with them both, Nie Huaisang wasn’t surprised by the suggestion at all) once his sister concluded her marriage with Jin Zixuan, which was going to be a far less sumptuous affair than originally planned. After all, the politics of the situation had reversed almost entirely, with the disgraced Jin sect needing the marriage to the reputable (and, thanks in large part to Wei Wuxian, powerful) Jiang sect to help keep what was left of their reputation and influence intact.

Perhaps the Jin sect’s crimes were the reason that Lan Xichen had been acting strangely distant from Jin Guangyao, even though no one had ever proven anything about his involvement – Jin Guangshan’s attempt to throw the blame entirely on his newly adopted son were dismissed as the fabrications they so obviously were – but Nie Huaisang wasn’t so sure.

Lan Xichen wasn’t the sort of person to worry about politics, after all. But then why…?

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” Lan Xichen asked, settling in his own seat with his own cup of tea. He looked very serious, as if Nie Huaisang’s opinion on things mattered to him.

It was nice. Most people just looked really long-suffering when they talked with Nie Huaisang, and those were the people that actually liked him.

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said. “So. Theoretically, if a person were trying to set up a marriage between, hypothetically, two people who would be perfect for each other, and I do mean disgustingly everything-would-be-wonderful-for-everyone sort of perfect, and they were just, you know, refusing for absolutely no valid reason other than their own stupid issues –”

“How in the world did you figure out that I was trying to get Wangji to confess his affections to Wei Wuxian?” Lan Xichen said, sounding stunned. “I didn’t tell anyone…You really are a genius, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang blinked, then lifted his head off the table, settling his chin on his hands.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” he admitted. “But now you have my full attention and I don’t care about my issue anymore. Tell me everything.”

“So, fun fact!” Nie Huaisang said, bouncing into his brother’s bedroom just in time to help him undo his braids before sleep. It was his favorite chore, no matter how much his brother protested that it wasn’t a chore and also that he’d been doing it for himself for years and seriously he could do it himself if Nie Huaisang wasn’t so stupidly possessive about being the only one allowed to do it any time they were both at home with violations punished of having Nie Mingjue’s fingers smacked with Nie Huaisang’s fan, all of which Nie Huaisang treated as the irrelevant and pointless statements they were. “I was just over at the Cloud Recesses visiting Xichen-xiong and he’s clearly super into me.”

“What,” his brother said.

Nie Huaisang cackled and dug his fingers into his brother’s thick hair – he was so jealous, his own was thin and stringy and brushing it definitely did not feel like petting a tiger the way it did when he did Nie Mingjue’s hair. He watched in the mirror with satisfaction as his brother’s shoulders immediately relaxed, all the anger and tension flowing out of them at once as a result of Nie Huaisang’s careful training over the years, although Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows still stayed sky high.

“I’m serious!” Nie Huaisang said, starting to release the braids. “He said that he respects me, and that he thinks I’m a genius. He has to have a thing for me. The only possible reason anyone would respect me is if all the blood had left their brain and they were blinded by my overwhelming prettiness!”

His brother seemed torn between denying Nie Huaisang’s statement that no one could respect him and telling him to stop being so full of himself about the overwhelming prettiness comment.

“Maybe Xichen just went insane,” he ended up saying instead. “That seems marginally more likely.”

“An excellent point,” Nie Huaisang acknowledged because, well, it was. “Now, totally unrelatedly, did you know that the Jin sect is treating poor Jin Guangyao just awful? Madame Jin throws things and Sect Leader Jin yells and blames him for stuff and it’s just so sad, we should do something about it.”

“Something like invite him here to live as my brand new bride, I’m guessing,” Nie Mingjue said, voice extremely dry. “You’re incredibly not subtle.”

Nie Huaisang freed a hand and held up a finger pointedly. “Ah, ah! Xichen-xiong says I’m a genius.”

His brother fell silent for a few moments. “You’re right,” he finally said. “He must have a crush on you. Not even insanity would explain this.”

Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“Also, really, Meng Yao?” Nie Mingjue asked. “That was who you were planning on setting me up with? You have to know that wouldn’t work.” He shifted in his chair. “…are they really beating him there?”

Huh, maybe Lan Xichen was right and Nie Huaisang really was a genius.

He wisely decided not to answer – it would work better if his brother investigated and found out the (admittedly fairly awful, according to the servants’ gossip) details for himself – and instead said, “Why’d you kick him out, anyway? I thought he got stabbed saving you. Whatever he did, how big of a deal could it have been, really?”

“He committed premeditated murder. In the middle of an attack on the sect, no less.”

Damnit, Meng Yao! Can’t you make things easy on me for once?!

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said, tugging on one of the braids until Nie Mingjue, who’d tensed up, relaxed again. It was a nice that his brother was so easily trainable, or at least he was on everything other than saber practice. Surely that was a selling point that Jin Guangyao could appreciate in a man? “Uh. Have you considered that, uh – well, maybe it could have been justified?”

“I asked him for an explanation,” Nie Mingjue growled. “His reason boiled down to ‘that guy was a dick to me’.”

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang said. “I have such strong empathy for Meng Yao’s position, you have no idea.”

“Huaisang.”

“I’m just saying, if we could stab everyone who acted like a dick…”

“Huaisang. No.”

“You know you want to.”

“But I don’t,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “He used the cover of battle, a Wen sword…he even tried to blame Xue Yang for it when I literally saw him holding the sword in his hand! I should have executed him right then and there, and I would have, if he hadn’t saved my life.”

A tricky one, Nie Huaisang thought. But not a match for me, Nie Huaisang: Lan Xichen-certified genius.

“Okay,” he said. “But…you already punished him for that, right? You exiled him. He was exiled. It was all very sad, tears were shed, mostly by me but also a bit by you – we’re an emotional family – and just possibly by Meng Yao, though who even knows, maybe Jin Guangshan’s spawn are all born without tear ducts as a congenital deficiency. But any way you look at it, it’s done now, and that means he can come back!”

“Huaisang. That’s not how exile works.”

“Uh, I think you’ll find that it does,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily. “There are at least five incidents in the Nie sect’s history where something comparable has happened.”

“Really.” His brother’s voice was very, very dry.

“Really,” Nie Huaisang insisted.

“And you, with your amazing ability to retain facts, know this…how?”

“Okay fine, I made that up,” Nie Huaisang confessed. “But I will find some and prove to you that it’s a thing! And then you’ll have no choice but to agree with my plan!”

“That’s not how that works, either,” Nie Mingjue said. “But if you’re willing to knuckle down and do the historical research to justify your bullshit, I’ll – consider it.”

“I will! You’ll see!”

“Xichen-xiong!” Nie Huaisang wept, clinging onto Lan Xichen’s arm. “You have to help me! There are so many books! And they’re all so long! They’re doing it just to spite me personally!”

Lan Xichen managed, with a truly remarkable amount of skill, to detach Nie Huaisang from his arm and settle him down in a chair in record time. If Nie Huaisang didn’t know better, he would have guessed that he’d done it before dozens, maybe even hundreds, of times, but of course they didn’t know each other that well.

Pity, that. Nie Huaisang might not need him as urgently as he needed Jin Guangyao, but losing out on having Lan Xichen as his er-ge was also a big downside of the whole not-swearing-brotherhood thing.

“What’s the problem this time, Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asked. He did not seem all that concerned, which...yeah, fair.

“I need you to do some research for me,” Nie Huaisang said, batting his eyelashes at him to see if that would work. “Nie sect history. Please?”

Lan Xichen tensed a little. It was a minute gesture, barely even noticeable. “On…what subject? Does your brother know?”

“Free passage laws and border restrictions,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Xichen visibly relaxed. “And of course he knows, he assigned it! Do you think I would do boring old historical research for fun?”

Lan Xichen smiled again, and Nie Huaisang counted it as a victory.

“All right, I’ll help,” he said indulgently, then paused. “Just…this isn’t part of some scheme, right?”

“Of course not,” Nie Huaisang said, injured. “Why would you even ask that? I am the most scheme-less person you could ever meet in your life. There are newborn baby rabbits that are more scheming than me!”

This was because newborn baby rabbits were dicks. Lan Wangji made him hold one once and Nie Huaisang was pretty sure it deliberately pissed on his fingers.

Lan Xichen coughed into his sleeve, just barely managing not to laugh in face. “I’m sure you are. No reason for asking. Did you bring the records you wanted me to look through?”

“By total coincidence, in fact, I did! Not that I would assume that you’d agree, of course.”

“…of course, Huaisang.”

“Jin-xiong!” Yes, Nie Huaisang was going for it; Jin Zixuan was just going to have to deal. “Jin-xiong, I have been informed by reliable sources that you’re a big fan of power, am I right?”

Jin Guangyao actually reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose – he must be very tired, to react that way while Nie Huaisang was still present.

In fairness, he really had been having a hard time of it recently. Even putting aside how awful it must be to live with Sect Leader Jin and his wife – it was no surprise (to Nie Huaisang, anyway) that their own son and heir spent a disturbingly large portion of his time visiting the Lotus Pier with his wife, even accounting for having to deal with the world’s most over-protective brothers-in-law – there were all the problems the Jin sect was having, the way Sect Leader Jin’s nasty and arrogant reactions to being challenged only seemed to be making it all worse, and then of course there was also the fact that Nie Mingjue had literally punched Sect Leader Jin in the face after he’d come in unexpectedly and caught him throwing a cup of tea on Jin Guangyao.

(That particular disaster was still ongoing, actually, and at very high volume – Jin Guangyao had been waiting anxiously outside the door, which wasn’t going to do him a single bit of good, but luckily for him Nie Huaisang was here to distract him from all of his troubles. Wasn’t Nie Huaisang a wonderfully nice person?)

“Jin-xiong,” Nie Huaisang whined, tugging on Jin Guangyao’s sleeve until the other man had no choice but to follow him further down the hallway and further away from the receiving room where the current Nie-Jin shouting session was happening behind them. “Tell me. Am I right?”

“You’re really excitable today, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said instead of answering. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Actually, I really, really, really hate flying on my saber and I’ve had to do it so often recently, it’s been terrible, you have no idea how much I’ve suffered, but I’m at least marginally hopeful that it’ll all be worth it in the end. But enough about me. You, power…how would you really like to tell your father and his wife where to shove it?”

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said helplessly. “We’re in the middle of Koi Tower. Can you at least keep your voice down?”

Pssh, like Nie Huaisang cared what some Jin sect retainers thought. His brother just punched their sect leader in the face, what in the world was he going to do that would top that?

“Really,” he insisted, deciding to ignore Jin Guangyao’s clearly misplaced objections. “Consider it for a moment. How would you like to obtain fame, power, wealth, legitimacy – of the public-recognition variety, not the familial sort, you got that already – the ability to rub your success into your father’s face and also possibly jump up and down on it a few times, and, just as a bonus, also maybe become Chief Cultivator?”

Technically, wife of the Chief Cultivator, but in reality there was no way he wouldn’t be the one doing all the work. People were being really insistent about there being one, and with Jin Guangshan out of the picture, Lan Xichen acting weirdly shifty, and Jiang Cheng being Jiang Cheng, the entire cultivation world were all currently forming a consensus that it was going to be Nie Mingjue regardless of whether he actually agreed to take the job. So if Nie Huaisang’s poor beleaguered big brother was going to get stuck with the title, why not give the work to someone who’d actually enjoy it?

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said, and his voice was so overtly sorrowful and pathetic that Nie Huaisang actually stopped to goggle at him. “I have never once sought personal power nor pursued ambition on my own behalf, and I regret that you think of me in that way.”

He paused for a moment.

“You can keep talking, though.”

“Excellent,” Nie Huaisang said. “So the plan is –”

“Forgive my language,” Lan Xichen said, his voice a little strangled. “But what the fuck?”

Nie Huaisang giggled. “I didn’t know the Lan sect permitted swearing.”

“It doesn’t. I’ll punish myself later,” Lan Xichen said, still staring blankly into space. “I just…they’re getting married? All those changes, and they end up getting married?”

“Technically, they’re eloping,” Nie Huaisang said. “Since they’re not actually getting Jin-xiong’s father’s permission and all…oh, Madame Jin looks angry enough to eat glass. I love weddings!”

Lan Xichen turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“Huaisang,” he said warningly. “This was a scheme on your part, wasn’t it?”

“Uh, I mean, okay, maybe a little,” Nie Huaisang confessed. “But only a little. A mini-scheme. A micro-plot. A stratagem. Oooh, did I intrigue? I like that. I’m intriguing.”

“You certainly are that,” Lan Xichen said dryly. “But…why?”

“Because now Jin-xiong – we can still call him that, right? I don’t think his father has the right to take back the name once it’s given, even if he does go ahead and disown him the way he’s threatening to – now Jin-xiong can do all the paperwork and make things run efficiently back home, and also it’s now totally in his best interest to make sure my brother stays sect leader and Chief Cultivator forever because otherwise he loses the basis of his own power,” Nie Huaisang explained. “And thus far I haven’t seen anything that Jin-xiong – oh, I can call him sao-zi now, that’s much more straightforward! – anything that he can’t do if he puts his mind to it. Which means I am now guaranteed to have a nice long life full of sweet, blissful nothing! No responsibilities! Freedom!”

He paused.

“Oh, and obviously they’ll be great together, really happy and all that,” he added. “That’s important too.”

Lan Xichen put his hand up to his forehead, but he was smiling broadly now – not the tiny little smiles Nie Huaisang had managed to steal up out of him up until now, but a big old grin.

“Anyway, now that that’s over and done with, I promise, no more schemes,” Nie Huaisang added, putting his hand on his heart. “This is the last one, okay? If you don’t believe me, you can write it into our marriage vows.”

Lan Xichen huffed a little, clearly not believing him, but he sounded fond about it. “Whatever you say, Huaisang – wait. Hold on. Our what?”

“Our marriage vows,” Nie Huaisang explained. “At our marriage. On account of your total inexplicable crush on me, which upon reflection I have generously decided to accept and return your affections.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

“Of course, we’re not going to be so lucky as to just elope,” Nie Huaisang continued thoughtfully. “Da-ge can’t have a proper wedding ceremony because people will be too afraid of irritating Sect Leader Jin to attend, but if we have a nice big party to announce my engagement to you, well, that’s different, right? They can all come to that. It’ll be like a secret-not-secret wedding that everyone knows is a wedding but with the plausible deniability that it’s totally just an engagement party. But if we have the big announcement, there’s no getting out of doing all the steps and rituals and whatnot, and, oh, we’ll have to deal with your uncle and our elders…it’ll be a disaster, really. So much work!”

He sighed. “Oh, the things I do for you, Xichen-gege! You’re very lucky I like you so much!”

Lan Wangji cleared his throat behind them both, and they turned to look at him – he was standing there with his arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist, which was more or less the same posture he was always in these days. Now that was one marriage – arranged as it might have been originally, with Lan Xichen pressuring Jiang Cheng until he agreed – that had gone very well, even if Lan Wangji was still a little cold with his brother over the extremely aggressive tactics he had employed in getting them together.

“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, brother,” Lan Wangji said, somewhat stone faced. “It couldn’t have happened to someone more deserving.”

Wei Wuxian, by his side, smiled and nodded. “If you’d like any help planning the wedding –” he started to say.

“Oh, would you?” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, clapping his hands in excitement. “Wei-xiong, you’re the best. We’re going to need at least a thousand of those spirit summon flags of yours.”

“A – a thousand? Do you know how long it’ll take me to draw a thousand talismans?!”

“Well, how else will we guarantee that we have a hunt so impressive that no one will ever stop talking about it?” Nie Huaisang asked, because obviously that’s what his da-ge would have wanted for his own wedding and since Nie Huaisang messed that up for his own purposes, having it at his was the least he could do to make it up to him.

Best of all, as the bride, he’d be all decked out in jewelry and fancy clothing and exactly nobody would expect him to participate. Win-win!

“Chop-chop, Wei-xiong! The wedding’s happening sooner rather than later, so if you think you’re going to have problems keeping up with demand, I’ll send some Nie sect disciples with decent handwriting over to you to learn. I think some of the people sao-zi is bringing with him from the Jin sect have some background in demonic cultivation too, I don’t know, but I’ll find out and let you know as soon as possible. You need to train up some people anyway so that you can ramp up production – once you start selling your talismans, more people will use them, and people will be much less afraid of you. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were both gaping at him. Possibly he had used too many words at once for them – or maybe it was just the speed in which he’d said it?

Lan Xichen started laughing.

“This is fine,” he said, wiping his eyes. “It’s just so much better than – yes, this is fine.”

Nie Huaisang was glad he agreed.

It meant the epic getting-together scheme that he’d had half-planned in the back of his mind in the event Lan Xichen said no could be safely shelved for another day.

Victory!

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nieyao #xisang #my fic #my fics #letitdevour #intriuging

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bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

dream a little dream of me

summary: Ryunosuke had never been one for gloomy, rainy weather, had always preferred the comforting warmth of a clear, sunny day. When a particularly heavy rainstorm keeps him and Kazuma in bed for hours on end, he finds himself slowly starting to think otherwise.

word count: 2.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day four of seven (prompt: "domestic"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Sherlock and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas & The Papas.

“Remind me, Ryunosuke, what is it they say about a heavy head? Because yours is certainly making it harder for me to breathe.”

Ryunosuke sighed, lifting his supposedly heavy head from his partner’s chest to level him with a sleepy glare. “Good morning to you, too. Must you demean me before we’ve even gotten out of bed?”

Kazuma’s warm, slightly raspy laughter soothed Ryunosuke somewhat, though he still couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated. “Well, it’s hardly my fault you’re so fun to tease. No one else reacts quite like you do.” Then, Kazuma cupped Ryunosuke’s jaw in one hand, running his thumb across Ryunosuke’s mouth. “And I mean that in all manner of things, if you get my meaning.”

“You’re terrible,” Ryunosuke informed him, though he allowed Kazuma to kiss him anyway, grunting slightly when Kazuma rolled over to straddle him, sinking his entire body into Ryunosuke’s, fingers digging into his sides. “Mm...Kazuma, th-they’re waiting for us downstairs - ”

“Let them wait,” Kazuma murmured, playfully nibbling Ryunosuke’s bottom lip. One of his hands had now moved to Ryunosuke’s thigh, caressing him teasingly. “It’s been too long since we’ve had some time to ourselves.”

“You were only here two nights ago,” Ryunosuke said breathlessly; Kazuma’s mouth had quickly made its way from his neck to his collarbone, leaving a heated trail of kisses down the length of his throat. “Remember? That’s when I finally agreed to - ”

“Ry-u! Kazz-y! Won’t you be joining us for breakfast?”

“Damn,” Kazuma muttered, reluctantly climbing off so he could smooth out the front of his jinbei. Despite Ryunosuke’s continued annoyance at Kazuma’s insatiable nature, if he wanted to put it kindly, he also couldn’t help but admire how flushed Kazuma’s ears, neck, and chest had become in the last few minutes alone. “We’ll be right there, Iris, sorry for keeping you!”

“That’s okay!” Iris called back, her footsteps already beginning to fade away. “Just as long as you’re both properly dressed, alright?”

Ryunosuke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is all your fault, you know that?” Kazuma merely scoffed, rifling through his bag so he could find the fresh set of clothes he’d packed for his overnight stay. “Though I suppose nothing will ever be as bad as the time you pulled me aside in the middle of an investigation and - ”

“I thought we both found that to be a thrilling and memorable experience, but fine,” Kazuma said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll see to it that we won't try anything that adventurous ever again.”

“We almost got caught!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, agitatedly flapping his shirt in Kazuma’s face. “Don’t you realize how much trouble we would’ve been in?”

Kazuma stared at Ryunosuke in complete and utter disbelief. “...Ryunosuke, you’ve committed treason. You’ve implicated so many government officials, exposed so many government secrets - ”

“...all the more reason not to take a chance?” Ryunosuke offered sheepishly. “Anyway, let’s get dressed before they come looking for us again. I swear I can hear Susato-san’s footsteps coming up the stairs.”

A little over an hour later, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato returned to the attic, pleasantly sleepy from the generous meal that Iris had prepared for everyone. The rain was still thumping against the windowpane, an erratic tap-tap-tap that filled the entire room, rendering the three of them barely able to hear themselves or each other.

“I know you were planning on returning to your own flat, Kazuma-sama, but I would advise against it in a storm like this,” Susato mused, momentarily brushing the curtains aside so she could look out over the soggy, sorry state of London’s streets. “And I’m sure Naruhodo-san wouldn’t complain if you stayed.”

“I’m sure as well, though Ryunosuke is clearly in no position to answer either way,” Kazuma said dryly, gesturing in Ryunosuke’s direction, where he was currently curled up on the floor by Susato’s tea set, half-asleep and hugging his daruma to his chest. Susato watched, giggling, as Kazuma walked over to gently prod Ryunosuke in the shoulder with his foot. “Come now, Ryu, don’t make me carry you back to bed.”

“We both know you’d like that,” Ryunosuke mumbled. Susato only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at them - she’d been privy to far too many of their supposedly private conversations for her liking - instead electing to pat Kazuma on the arm.

“I think this is the perfect weather for a nap, personally,” she said, looking at him meaningfully. “If you plan on returning to bed as well, I can let Iris and Mr Holmes know not to disturb any of us until dinner.”

“That would be great, Susato-san, thank you,” Kazuma said sincerely, though he secretly suspected she just wanted to leave them be. Once she disappeared back down the stairs, he looked down at Ryunosuke with an irrevocably fond sigh. “Ryunosuke…”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m getting up,” Ryunosuke yawned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. “Bed?” Grinning, Kazuma wordlessly took Ryunosuke by the hand and led him towards his bedroom - their bedroom, really, given how often he stayed over these days. Moments later, they clumsily tumbled back into bed, having changed into their sleepclothes once more.

“You’ve still got a bit of egg on your face,” Kazuma observed, wiping Ryunosuke’s cheek. “How does this keep happening to you?”

“Eat too fast,” Ryunosuke murmured, turning to kiss the palm of Kazuma’s hand. “Food...good.”

“Your grasp of both the Japanese and the English language is incredible,” Kazuma drawled, carding his fingers through Ryunosuke’s hair. He then pulled him closer, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s neck. “I thought you went back home to finish school, did you not? Surely you can do better than ‘food good’.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Ryunosuke said, sighing, letting out an exaggerated exhale directly in Kazuma’s face. Still, he turned over so he could wrap his arms around Kazuma’s waist, snuggling contentedly into his chest. “I really should just kick you out and make you go home.” Laughing, Kazuma kissed the top of his head.

“Not in this weather, you wouldn’t,” Kazuma replied. As if to illustrate his point, there was a loud, thunderous crack that practically shook the entire room. “If this storm keeps up, I might have to live here indefinitely.” Ryunosuke merely grunted in response. “Well, you don’t have to sound so pleased about it.”

“Oh - no, it’s not that,” Ryunosuke reassured him, sitting up somewhat so he could look Kazuma in the eye. Despite Kazuma’s typical brusque, yet affectionate nature, he could tell that Kazuma was slightly hurt. “I was just thinking about how much I dislike storms. Rain is fine on occasion, but...it seems as if London is in a permanent state of misery sometimes, you know? And it makes us miserable all the while.”

Kazuma’s clouded expression cleared up instantly. “It’s been ages since we’ve had sunshine,” he agreed, now dropping his head to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “It would’ve been nice to go for a walk together before I leave...whenever that is.”

“Like we used to do before class,” Ryunosuke said quietly, nodding. “You could never convince me to join you during your morning exercises, though.”

“Forget morning exercise, I had to literally drag you out of bed sometimes,” Kazuma snorted, tangling their fingers together. “I hear Susato-san hasn’t had any luck with getting you to exercise more, either.”

“I exercise enough,” Ryunosuke huffed, pinching Kazuma’s side; much to his dismay, Kazuma merely laughed in response. “I do plenty of pacing up and down during trials, you see.”

“I do see,” Kazuma teased. “I should look for permanent scuff marks behind the defense bench and the witness stand the next time we’re in court. You have a tendency to drag your feet, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryunosuke made a show of yanking his hand out of Kazuma’s grasp and turning over with his back to him, pulling his side of the blankets over his head. “...I’m really starting to think you have nothing nice to say about me at all.”

Even when he wasn’t looking at him, he could tell Kazuma was smirking. “Oh, I think I praise you plenty. But in case you were wanting to hear it…” In one quick motion, Kazuma swept the bundled-up Ryunosuke into his arms, Ryunosuke’s back pressed against his chest, his breath ghosting the shell of Ryunosuke’s ear. “...I love you, Ryunosuke. And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

“Wonderful, now I just sound needy,” Ryunosuke said, sighing yet again, though he craned his neck to kiss Kazuma anyway, tossing the blanket around his shoulders so they were both enveloped in its warmth. Kazuma slowly lowered him onto his back, onto the mattress, knees braced on either side of Ryunosuke’s hips, fingers digging into Ryunosuke’s waist.

“You can insult me back, I don’t mind,” Kazuma murmured, sucking a bruising kiss along the crook of Ryunosuke’s jaw. Though they’d crawled back into bed for a nap, Ryunosuke was starting to feel more and more alert by the second. “Do your worst.”

Ryunosuke hummed, thinking. “...sometimes, you try too hard. You need to relax more, Kazuma. There have been some jurors and witnesses who’ve been intimidated by you, even though you aren’t trying to be malicious.”

“Fair enough.” Kazuma’s voice was low, raspy, sending shivers up Ryunosuke’s spine. “Anything else?”

“You have a bad habit of interrupting people,” Ryunosuke continued, prodding Kazuma in the chest with an accusatory finger. “Even Iris seemed annoyed with you last night, when she was asking us about our latest trial. I know you think you were helping, but I can speak for myself just fine. We’re not in school anymore.”

“...ah.” Kazuma looked humbled, almost remorseful. “I...I’m sorry, Ryu, I didn’t realize. I honestly thought we were just telling them about what happened together.”

“And you need to stop biting me like I’m a piece of meat - ”

“No one can see them!”

“Kazuma, you're doing it again - ”

“Doing wh - oh.” Kazuma burrowed his face into Ryunosuke’s chest, cheeks burning hot with shame. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but laugh; it wasn’t often that he got to embarrass Kazuma and render him speechless. “I...see that I’m not quite the partner I’d thought or, or hoped I was.”

“Last, but definitely not least - ” Ryunosuke abruptly took Kazuma’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered “ - you don’t need to be quite so dramatic, either. I still love you all the same, Kazuma.” He smirked. “And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

Kazuma stared down at him with wide, imploring eyes. Then, he cocked his head to one side, his frown melting into a warm, radiant smile. “...again.”

“I love you.” Ryunosuke kissed Kazuma’s cheek, then the tip of his nose, then finally, his lips. Beaming, Kazuma kissed him back, a little sweeter this time, a little less sensual. “Especially because you’re a little needy, too.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, save for the steady sounds of the rain and thunder and wind whistling past their window, exchanging slow, languorous kisses and simply enjoying one other’s company. Though Kazuma spent more nights at Baker Street than not, in a way, it still felt as if they had months, even years, of lost time to make up for, even though they hadn’t been apart - or a part of each other’s lives, for that matter - for that long. It was times like these that Ryunosuke found himself reminiscing about their university days, the early days of their companionship, when they’d have spirited debates that ended in spirited laughter and meandering conversations about nothing in particular.

“I can hear you thinking, partner,” Kazuma murmured, brushing Ryunosuke’s hair out of his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Ryunosuke said, pulling away momentarily to yawn. “Only that we were supposed to be taking a nap, and instead, we spent the last ten minutes poking fun at each other. Though I suppose that’s just an extension of the way we speak to each other in court at times.”

“Susato-san has been scolding you about that as well, has she? Perhaps we do need to - I need to be more careful,” Kazuma corrected hastily when Ryunosuke leveled him with an impressively Kazuma-like glare. “Though we’d be in even more trouble if I were to, say, openly comment on how handsome you looked in court just last week, when your hair was a little bit longer in the back. I thought it suited you.”

“Why do we need to be in trouble at all?” Ryunosuke retorted, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “I’d rather we do our jobs like the proper lawyers that we are - ”

“Well-behaved schoolboys, you mean,” Kazuma teased.

“ - and come home at the end of the day, where we can do as we please,” Ryunosuke finished.

Kazuma looked at him consideringly, his gaze impossibly soft. “Ryunosuke Naruhodo, are you implying you’d like me to move in someday?”

“What? I - ” Ryunosuke stared at him, momentarily stunned. Then, he relaxed, his head dropping back to his pillow, where Kazuma followed him down, their eyes still locked. “I, er...I thought that was a given. Though I worry that...that people might talk, as they’re wont to do.”

“Professor Mikotoba lived here with Mr Holmes for some time, did he not?” Kazuma pointed out. “Besides, even if people talk, why listen? All that matters is what we think of ourselves, as trite as that might sound.” He leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to Ryunosuke’s forehead. “So, just know that whenever you decide to ask, you already have my answer.”

“Then I think I’ll make you wait for just a little bit longer before I do...if only to get back at you for two nights ago,” Ryunosuke added with a smug smile, laughing when Kazuma glared daggers at him in response.

“And you think I’m the cruel one,” Kazuma muttered, pulling Ryunosuke into his arms once more so he could hold him rather possessively, their legs loosely intertwined beneath their mess of blankets. “You told me you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, believe me,” Ryunosuke grinned, blushing faintly at the sudden vivid memory that had come to mind. “But just this once, I’d like to have the upper hand.” He then leaned in to kiss Kazuma’s exaggerated pout. “Anyway, we really should be getting to sleep now, or it’ll be time for dinner before we know it. I can barely keep my eyes open at this rate.”

“Agreed,” Kazuma said, yawning. He shuffled closer, dropping his forehead down to rest against Ruynosuke’s. “Good...morning, Ryunosuke.”

Ryunosuke shot him one last sleepy, fond smile before letting his eyes drift shut. “Good morning to you, too, Kazuma.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! We've moved on from sad Kazuma hours to semi-horny Kazuma hours, I guess? Blame it on Kazuma talking about getting Ryunosuke off and holding his hand over a hot plate and finding ways to shut him up; you can't tell me he's not doing this at least a little bit on purpose. Anyway, I always love writing plotless cuddling fics where they basically talk about nothing. I could've made this way, way longer, easy, but we've still got three more days to go!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#asoryuu #asoryuu week 2021 #ace attorney #asoryuu fic #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaac spoilers #myfic #long post #this is just cuddling i promise!! kazuma's just being...kazuma

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Daishou Suguru/ Kita Shinsuke/ Yamaguchi Tadashi

Warnings: i don’t think any??

Word Count: 2K (~650 a piece)

Notes: i am soft for kita shinsuke. that is all.

Daishou Suguru

He’s a top tier boyfriend and no one is allowed to tell me otherwise

He is a first-class WEENIE for his s/o and would genuinely do anything for them

But noooo y’all hate him smh

Daishou is the kind of person who puts every important date of your relationship in his phone. He is never missing your anniversary or your birthday or any other important relationship dates.

He’s a good morning/good night texter too. I know that everyone thinks he’s an asshole, but after being broken up with for focusing too much on a club, he doesn’t want you to feel like he only cares about volleyball. If he’s going to be busy for a few hours, he’s going to tell you so you don’t think he’s just flat out ignoring you

I promise, he will let you do anything to him if you just ask. Want to try to curl his hair? Cool, just please don’t burn him. You want to pluck his eyebrows? Go ahead. He doesn’t mind. Did you see this really cute nail design that you want to try? Suguru already has his hand held out towards you so you can practice.

He’s not telling anyone that he does all of this so willingly though. He has to maintain some essence of coolness

Literally the whole volleyball team knows that he’s a total simp, so idk who the hell he thinks he’s hiding it from

His love language is quality time, so as long as he’s with you, he’s perfectly content. Daishou will happily just sit next to you for hours, sending each other memes or stupid tiktoks.

When it comes to actually going out on dates, he’s really simple. He likes picnics in the park or taking hikes or going stargazing. It feels very intimate to him and allows a certain degree of vulnerability that can’t be found anywhere else.

You guys went stargazing on your first date and he brought you flowers and the two of you shared snacks it was all very cute and there was no way that you weren’t going to go on a second date with him

Speaking of flowers-

One time you made him mad over something really stupid and he brought you some flowers as a partial apology for him being overdramatic, but the card just said “fuck you” in really pretty lettering, but there was a really small, “but also, I love you” on the other side.

The two of you pick up random hobbies together? For no other reason than the two of you spend an awful lot of time just sitting at each other's house? So, you decided to do something other than just sit on your phones for h o u r s

You’ve made those giant arm-knitted blankets together. One time, you tried to make soap, but it didn’t smell good so that hobby got scrapped. You’ve tried to learn how to roller skate together, but Daishou almost broke his arm so you thought maybe something less dangerous like puzzles. But, those got old really fast.

Please for the love of god run your hand over his arms. He will be putty in your hands. He loves it so much.

Better yet? Put your hands on his biceps when he kisses you and he’s a happy boy. His arms are the feature that he’s most proud of, so knowing that you like them too is a big boost to his ego.

He has two main nicknames for you smh. When he’s teasing or just being a little shit, he calls you sweetheart. If he actually wants to be affectionate, Daishou calls you babygirl.

He’ll pull you into his lap and pepper your face in kisses while telling you, “I love you, babygirl, you know that?”

If you call him ‘Sugu’ or just ‘ru’ he may actually die right there. It just plucks something in his heart that sends him to cloud-9.

Suguru really is a fantastic boyfriend who just wants you to be happy ;-; He wants you to smile and laugh and be comfortable around him, because he’s here for the long-haul. When Daishou falls in love, he falls hard

Kita Shinsuke

An absolute sweetheart

He’s going to take care of you so good

Kita for sure walked straight up to you and asked you on a date. He gave zero fucks. Nerves? Kita has never heard of them before. If you reject him, you reject him. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.

You met his grandmother really early into the relationship because she’s really important to Kita, so he needed to know that she approved of you before fully committing to a relationship with you.

But, I promise, she loves you and now that Kita is finally dating someone, she’s going to pester him about wedding plans once he comes home from your date. She doesn’t care that this is only the second date. She wants to see her grandson married.

Kita genuinely loves domestic life? Please please please come over and cook with him. If you offer to help him with the dishes, he may propose right there. Okay not literally but you know what i mean. Come over on Saturdays for laundry and gardening.

I should mention that dating Kita isn’t always chores and housework, but even when it is, it really doesn’t feel like it? The two of you joke around, definitely throwing dirt at one another while you’re pulling weeds in the garden or flicking water at him while doing the dishes.

He’s an “acts of service” kind of person. Little things like having your favorite snacks in the cabinets for when you come over or turning the heat up before you get there so it’ll be warm because he knows you get gold. You left your math binder at his house once, so he took the time to put all of the loose papers where he knew you would’ve wanted them.

If you’re a person who gets periods, he has pads and extra painkillers stocked in the bathroom cabinet.

Please note that Kita has zero shame in buying you period products. You need tampons? Okay. What size and what brand? Do you want anything else? He can get some snacks while he’s at the store too. You can say no and he’s going to pick up a package of pizza rolls anyway. He knows you well enough that you’ll say no, but only tell him that you're hungry the minute he gets home. He’s played this game before. He knows.

It makes his grandmother so proud, seeing him love and care so wholeheartedly for another person that isn’t related to him. She just knows that he’ll make an excellent husband to you one day

She cares about you just as much as he does. Kita mentioned that you weren’t feeling well once, and she packed up a bunch of leftovers and some tea for him to take over to you, pretty much telling him not to come back until you were feeling well again.

Kita doesn’t beat around the bush, so if he has something he wants to tell you, he’s just going to say it. Communication is really important to him and he believes that it’s the key to a healthy and happy relationship.

But, because of this, it took him a while to say I love you. He didn’t want to just say it, you know? He wanted to genuinely mean it. He believes that that phrase gets tossed around too easily. So, it was a few months before he actually said it, but you knew that he was serious when he did.

He likes to kiss the top of your head. If you’re tall, he enjoys kisses to your temple just as much.

I 10/10 recommend a Kita. He would love you wholeheartedly and, don’t tell his grandmother, he really does want to spend the rest of his life with you.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Another absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend oml

But, I promise that you’re probably going to have to make the first move if you want anything to come from this.

He’s just so shy and nervous when talking to people that he finds cute ;-;

Although, there is a chance that Tsukishima told him to get over himself and just ask you out.

“It’s not that big of a deal. If they say no, you move on.”

Shut up, Tsukki.

Yamaguchi really likes to hold your hand. It’s really grounding for him, so if he’s ever starting to get panicked, he’ll reach for your hand.

Before every game, he has to hold your hand and he’ll squeeze it three times before he has to go. So, if he starts to panic during the game, he has a fresh memory of the feeling of your hand in his.

Yamaguchi lets you wear his jacket during games ;-; He didn’t even think about it as something to show you off as his, he was just worried that you might get chilly in the stands, so he offered for you to take it.

But, now he’s obsessed with how cute you look with his jacket around your shoulders that he’s letting you hold onto it whenever he gets the opportunity.

Study dates study dates study dates

The two of you will either go to a cafe or a library and claim a table and just hang out and do homework together. If you’re struggling with something, he’ll walk you through it. He moved his chair close to yours so that your knees just barely brushed against one another.

He loves to bring you little gifts. If he sees something in a shop that reminds him of you or if he thinks you might like it, he’ll buy it and give it to you the next time he sees you.

He usually doesn’t like nicknames? He'd rather just be called by his actual name, but something about you calling him ‘dashi’ just feels right and he really likes it.

Tadashi has a lot of insecurities, especially in the start of your relationship with him. He doesn’t understand why you’re so willing to be with him?? He’s just a bundle of nerves and he’s convinced that you could do so much better than him, but yet you still stay with him?

It took him a really long time to get comfortable with the idea of being in a relationship and realize that you weren’t going to just dump him because you really got to know him, but when he does get comfortable, it’s like he’s a totally new person. His nervous laughter actually becomes more full and free and he smiles a lot wider. He isn’t afraid to tease you and he’s a lot more open about his emotions.

Tsukki is the first one to really notice just how good you are for Yamaguchi. Tadashi isn’t super open with anyone but him, at least, until you came along and gave Tadashi another person that he could connect with and feel comfortable around.

Tadashi loves it when you play with the hair at the base of his neck. It feels so comforting and he would love to just fall asleep right there with your fingers in his hair. Everytime you play with his hair, his head immediately goes to your shoulder and he’ll wrap his arms around your midsection and tell you that he loves you.

You will never go a day without Tadashi telling you that he loves you and that you’re absolutely incredible. He finds something to compliment you on every single day because he just wants you to know that you’re loved and, while yes, he does find you absolutely beautiful, sometimes it’s nice to be complimented on things other than physical appearance and that’s where Yamaguchi really shines.

{Taglist: @moncymonce @nicka-nell @celosiiaa @lovinnoya and my fellow daishou suguru simp @kuronekomama}

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passable-talent · 4 years

Note

May I please request a zuko fix where the reader is a huge flower buff (like knows the meanings and names) and is more graceful and peaceful rather than a fighter despite being a fire bender and zuko thinks she doesn't care or take the war seriously and when zuko joins the gang he doesn't see how much she contributes until he sees her taking care of everyone one night and questions the others and learns she in fact is a fierce fighter and he takes her up on a challenge to see for himself

playful fight? where there’s a lil pride involved? but there’s also a lot of pining? hmmmmm

also I love/hate writing fight scenes bc they’re SO FUN but also I’m such a perfectionist (and actually a martial artist so like... I see flaws u know?) that I actually have to get up and act them out and that’s time consuming but also a good workout so whatever ? I guess

you would not believe the amount of flower research in both the avatar and real world I did before going into this ask

this is too much to preface a story with gd I’m annoying but I hope u don’t mind that I was gender nonspecific. It’s a thing with me since there’s like never any male readers on tumblr. so even though you kinda asked for female reader I made it gender nonspecific because that’s what I do I hope it’s ok

anyway here we go!!

Zuko simply did not understand.

The house where his family vacationed was big and beautiful, and a good place to hide until Sozin’s comet. What he never had noticed, until now, were the flowers growing all around the courtyard and the path to the beach. Over the years of disregard, the more exotic flowers had died and been replaced by native life, taking over much more than the flowerbeds he barely remembered the staff taking care of. There were fire lilies, those he recognized, but there were many other flowers that he had never bothered to learn the name of.

Y/N knew all of their names.

He didn’t understand you. He couldn’t figure you out. You were of the fire nation, and a bender, but he had never seen you fight. All you did, as far as he could tell, was pull the others away from danger, settle fights, and tend to flowers that seemed perfectly capable of survival all on their own. It’s not that it bothered him, but it did, because you seemed so absolutely noncommital. Nonchalant. Indifferent. How had another citizen of the fire nation come to the realization that the fire nation was evil, and gathered up the courage to join the avatar, and yet didn’t seem to care about the war at all?

When he’d first met you, he thought you didn’t have much use to the team at all. He thought you just another kid caught up in the war, like the others that were at the western air temple after the day of black sun. But after the brief battle with Azula, he came to see your worth.

“If only we had some Aloe,” you’d murmured as you passed him, on your way to Sokka’s side after he had complained of a sunburn, riding all day on Appa’s back.

“Can we get some?” Katara asked, leaning against the side of Appa’s saddle.

“No,” you replied, “too far away. It only grows near the Si Wong desert, and we definitely can’t go there right now.”

“So what can we do?” asked Katara again, and you shrugged, settling down beside Sokka, on his right while Toph clutched onto his left arm.

“The medical treatment for burns in the fire nation are less advanced then you’d expect. But there’s a few plants that can be soothing- even if not as much as Aloe. If there’s any banana leaf nearby our destination, that may help.” Zuko, though he’d remained silent, cocked an eyebrow in surprise. Medicinal knowledge of plants- that seemed extremely useful, especially given the group’s nomadic behavior. He briefly wished that you had been around while his uncle had had his quarrel with the white jade bush.

More so, though, in the following days he began to see your similarities to Katara- you were kind, and caring, and you made sure that the group was taken care of. You sat through worries and soothed fears the best you could, and that was admirable. You almost reminded him of his mother.

One question was left on his mind. If you were a fire bender- why did Aang need him to teach him firebending?

After you had gone to bed one night, he sat around a fire with Aang, Sokka, and Toph to pose that very question.

“Is it because they’re not a very strong bender? I’ve never even seen them use firebending, they must not be that good.”

“Oh, no,” Sokka said, “they’re actually really good. Probably better than you.” He laughed a bit after his words, earning a punch in the rib cage from Toph, which made Zuko think that Sokka was only trying to tease.

“Really?” He asked, looking to Aang, whose information he’d trust.

“Yeah,” Aang said, “they’re good. But they didn’t want to teach me- said that they didn’t have enough formal training. I think they just didn’t want to be that violent. They’re a pacifist, like me.”

“I could see that,” Zuko said, gazing into the fire. In his fingers he twirled an orange cyclamen, which you had given him before you’d gone to bed. When he’d asked why, you had responded that ‘it was a flower without meaning*, and the color reminded you of him’. He didn’t know what to do with it now, though, before he went to bed. He didn’t want to toss it in the fire, as that felt too heartless, but he knew it was dying now that it was picked. So, when he stood to return to his room for the night, he crouched by one of the overgrown flowerbeds and propped it up in the soil.

Maybe, from its turmoil, it would grow roots and live. Or maybe it would die surrounded by the beauty of the other flowers.

After spending all night wondering the true extent of your prowess, when morning came Zuko decided to find out.

“Spar me,” he said, catching you alone in the courtyard. “I need to be reminded what it’s like to fight a fire bender, and I’ve been told you’re quite good.” You let a little quirk of a smile onto your lips and turned to face him, tilting your head.

“You sure? What if it hurts your pride?” He shook his head, expression stoic as ever.

“It won’t. Either I’ll beat you or I’ll learn.” You took off an outer layer you’d been wearing and, carrying it, made your way toward the beach.

“Good way to think about it,” you said, laying down your jacket on a stone just outside the entryway. But as you straightened back up you planted your forward foot and flashed your other foot up and across, sending an arc of flame toward the prince. He quickly noticed that the game had begun and diverted the flame to his left, sliding his foot into a strong stance before punching flames toward you. By this time you had completed your spin and dove out of the path of his fire, rolling onto your feet and into a tight stance, your hands at your chest. You took them to your left, then swung them to your right to add momentum to your spin, lifting your feet from the ground for a round kick that sent another arc of flame toward him. He dove forward to get out of the way, getting closer to you, and sweeping one of your feet out from under you. You landed on your back, your fall cushioned as much as it could have been, and he pinned you down by hovering over you.

“You’re impressive,“ he said, and you gave him a look somewhere between pleading and fondness. His moment’s hesitation allowed you to swing your foot and use both its momentum and a shove from your elbows to flip him onto his back, your two foremost fingers creating a fire dagger at his throat, not close enough to threaten. This was only sparring, after all.

“Have you forgotten the rules of a match? It’s not over until the opponent yields.” He smiled, slightly, as he looked up at you.

“I yield.” You chuckled and stood up, giving him a hand to right him on his feet as well.

“You have more honor than I,” you told him, knowing that you only won thanks to trickery. A slight laugh rumbled from his chest and he tossed your jacket toward you again.

“How I’d love for my father to hear you say that.”

*a cyclamen a flower that, when given, expresses sincere feelings of admiration and romance. y/n was cheeky

-🦌 Roe

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cherryhanji · 3 years

Text

flowers don't tell, they show

bulleted scenario. stray kids (hyung line) x female reader

genre: florist/flower shop au, fluff (idk what else to put lol)

words: 1.6k

warning(s): none (a single curse word maybe?)

description: what if you received a flower from your own shop?

alexa's note:

so hello there my friends! stay at home this valentines'? (actually u don't need a boyfriend/girlfriend to celebrate valentines. love is not only for couples! it's for everyone! have u heard different types of love?) well, i just want to give my lovely bubs here the half of my cute lil valentines' gift. and i hope y'all like it! *kith kith* (maknae line will be posted tomorrow)

just a quick disclaimer:

so i really don't have that much knowledge about flowers and their specific meanings, i just googled them (sorry) so if i interpreted something that you think is wrong, pls tell me right away. thankies!

•••

BANG CHAN

• your cutie af neighbor who highkey endorses your shop to his fam and friends, in which you are so grateful of because it really helped your business a lot

• "your flower arrangements are so damN beautiful"

• always gives a cup of coffee every morning before you go to your shop

• "cheer up! florists like you are always appreciated. Don't be sulky, okay?"

• one time you went home really exhausted

• valentines' day is always the holiday that makes your business boom a lot

• only seeing a bouquet of flower sitting nicely on your doorstep

• realizing that the bouquet was the one you made a while ago, but didn't have the clue who the person who bought this from you.

• "I know it's very exhausting, since morning, I know you'll get exhausted, so I bought this for you, hoping that it will lift up your mood and put a smile on your face."

• "keep on smiling, it makes me smile too. - CHAN"

• he's right. Definitely right. Because as soon as you read his small note, that bright smile on your face never faded. all the stress from the shop was completely removed by this unexpected gift.

• "He's really a sunshine, as what they always say."

LEE KNOW/MINHO

• "flowers easily wilt and die soon, why are y'all spending your money with that?"

• "minho, if you just went here to mock my family's business, I am happy to tell you that you may now leave"

• "Fine fine. They're beautiful, okay? Like you"

• "oh shut up"

• Minho always annoy the shit out of you every weekends. And when you say weekends, it means Saturday and Sunday because you always help ypur parents manage your own family business which is a flower shop.

• Your mother loves planting, especially growing flowers. And as a daughter of a florist, you grew to love it. Which gives you knowledge about different kinds of flowers and their specific meaning.

• "being a florists' daughter, what's your favorite flower?"

• you smiled at his expected inquiry. your classmates already asked you the same question.

• Minho is your friend for quite a long time already, though you weren't surprised he asked this question, but what's surprising is he asked you about this just now.

• "I actually have lots of them. truthfully I love all kinds of flowers. But I have this one thing on my mind."

• he looks a bit interested, knowing Minho, he's not into flowers, telling you that he always catch allergies whenever he stays near them. Not having an idea why he always manage to go to your shop that is full of flowers and not getting allergies at all.

• "I really love this flower called goldenrod. Aside from its cute little yellow flower heads, I love it because of its symbolism."

• "it symbolizes encouragement and growth, and apparently this flower brings good luck to everyone. Isn't it cute?"

• "Kinda. You know, rose and sunflower are the only flowers I am really familiar of"

• You laugh at his adorable confession, he's right. Most of your customers, example of them are teenagers like you order roses as a gift for their special someone.

• Little did they know, there are different variations of flowers that can really interpret what they feel

• "I heard that Camellia symbolizes adoration, am I right?"

• you were shocked that Minho, a guy who only knows roses and sunflowers knew this.

• Camellia symbolizes adoration, some people give Camellia to tell how much they adore and like that certain person.

• "yeah, you're right. How'd you know that?"

• "Google, duh. Anyways, do you have a stock of Camellias today? If yes, can you please arrange me a bouquet of it?"

• As expected, Minho and his sassiness. But knowing that he'll purchase a camellia from your shop consoled you a bit.

• Giving you his payment, you immediately arranged the camellia bouquet, your favorite arrangement. Showcasing your talent in front of him

• Which you think is effective because you can see how attentive he was from your peripheral view, making you feel a bit awkward.

• But your mind came to abrupt stop after you gave him the bouquet.

• "w-why..?"

• "it's for you, idiot. Good job in arranging the bouquet, you received a pretty bouquet of camellia flowers.

• "the flower says it all. don't ask me why."

CHANGBIN

• "The most expensive bouquet of flowers you sell in your please."

• You frown at the way Changbin address his order to you.

• In your University, Changbin is that one "delinquent, rude-looking guy from your class".

• And your first encounter with him isn't that good. Leaving a bad impression of him to you. So you were kinda surprised to see him in your shop.

• Seeing Changbin, dressed in black leather jacket with lots of piercings hanging on his ears with a colorful bouquet of flowers from your shop in his hands? nah, that's strange for you.

• "are you really this good at arranging those flowers?"

• his "lowkey compliment" made your ears perked up. You and Changbin aren't really that close, given your bad first meeting with him.

• "Uh, y-yeah? Because I do this for a long time now. So I'm already used to it."

• Giving his order to him made your face a bit flushy, your hands accidentally brushed against each other.

• You just handed his order, but why do you feel something in your stomach?

• your eyebrows knitted when he gave back to you the flowers, hesitating to accept it.

• doesn't he like the arrangement?

• "w-why are you giving this--"

• "I'm sorry if I left a bad impression to you. I swear, I didn't mean to be rude to you. I am just totally pissed off that day. And I wished that the ground will just eat me alive when I knew you were one of my classmates in Ethics."

• Hearing him apologize for leaving a bad impression to you, made your heart sank. Maybe he's not that rude unlike what you think of him.

• "Are you really that sorry?"

• You didn't know why you asked that, maybe you just liked the way his sorry and remorseful tone is contrasting his physical appearance?

• "Yeah, I really am. I hope that you accept it. Maybe we can start off again? This time, I'll be nicer to you. I'll never be that rude guy from your class ever again."

• His last line made you giggle because he probably heard what you told your seatmate about him that day.

HYUNJIN

• The classic "high school hearththrob"

• Expected that most girls from your school gave him those plastic flowers, with diabetic filled boxes (aka sweets)

• "I really appreciate their admiration. But where do you think I'll store these plastic flowers? I am not even a fan of flowers."

• "plastic flowers last long. but it's plastic, it can destroy our nature. So, real flowers are still the real deal."

• "yeah, I know. That's why you're lowkey endorsing your flower shop. Yeah, they should buy authentic and fresh flowers from Y/N's flower shop."

• Hyunjin decided to walk with you, going to your shop after school, to help your parents sell and arrange flowers. Because for sure there are lots of people visiting your shop to buy flowers. Valentines' day, people.

• "Is it okay to stay here for a while? If you don't mind?"

• You just let him walk around, his eyes appreciating the beauty of each flowers displayed around the shop.

• The title "flower boy" just fits him perfectly.

• and the way he just picked up the single lavender rose was just as fascinating as him

• "this looks pretty and rare, what does this mean?"

• "you're right. lavender rose are the rare variety of roses, and it symbolizes love at first sight."

• the smile on hyunjin's face is so genuine, and you know that someone came up to his mind after you told him what the lavender rose symbolizes.

• "great. I'll buy this one, please."

• the enthusiasm in Hyunjin's voice tells you that your assumption was right. Who ever they are, they're so lucky.

• But you think you already have an idea who that person is.

• With a small folded paper, and a bar of chocolate, Hyunjin gave you the flower he bought and picked himself from your own flower shop.

• "Happy Valentines, I hope you like it."

• For sure the thumpings of your heart can be heard already because of its wild beating.

• "Good thing I found that rare flower for a girl like you."

•••

tagging my networks: (bcs sometimes it won't show up in the tags😤) @districtninewriters @inkidz @skzwriternet @stayhavens @0325-net

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rainbowvamp · 3 years

Text

Enchanted

Happy Mercelot week my loves! Enjoy a Cinderella love at first sight au. Featuring Merlin in a pretty outfit and infatuated Lancelot!

@mercelotweek fill for "beauty"

——

Merlin looks down at the bit of fabric in his hands. He’s never tried to alter an object this way. He’d cut a bit of Camelot red from one of the cloaks Arthur had sent to be re-hemmed and was just… looking at it. It was washed, but still obviously worn, fraying in places, no matter how he’d tried to mend it. He hadn’t been particularly keen on the red, but it was the only thing he’d had on hand. He certainly wasn’t going to risk any of his own clothes for something that might not work.

Merlin had altered himself before, sure, but he’d gotten stuck that way as often as he’d done it. A mask couldn’t exactly drink a potion and return to it’s original form. So, he had to be very careful and meticulous when he crafted this spell.

The white of his party clothes was incredible, striking, really, compared to all the other clothes he’d ever worn. Cast offs, surely, but they were beautiful. Morgana or even Gwen might know if they were even still in style, but it was meant to be a bit of a lark, this party. Both for him and the other guests in attendance. The others would be in costumes fashioned from older clothing, or clothing made costume by masks. It was supposed to be fun, light hearted, this party, but here Merlin is, overthinking something as simple as a mask.

He murmurs a spell of his own creation and the scrap of fabric, crumpled and pinned to generally resemble a mask, became something gorgeous before his eyes. The fabric was thinner, almost like lace in weight, but stayed stiff in his hand like it had been over starched. The pins had become fine, metallic dots over the eye holes, and the ribbon he’d use to secure it was almost silk like.

It was beautiful, but Merlin could feel the tenuous nature of the spell. It wouldn’t last forever. It might not even last the night. He could feel the threads of magic holding it delicately in this shape, but ready to break apart at any moment.

Well, he’d just have to make his trip to the party short so he wouldn’t risk being found out. These things usually went so far into the night it became morning, but he’d probably have until midnight before the spell wore off and risked exposing him.

If anyone found out a Servant was mingling with these Nobles, he’d be in the stocks for a week. Maybe worse.

Guinevere, who is his dearest friend and closest confidant, has agreed to help him with his hair for tonight, so he sneaks off to Morgana’s rooms, the lady already down at the party, to get her help, mask already in place, just in case anyone should see him.

The palace feels different when he walks around in clothes that belong to a nobleman. The servants he passes bow respectfully, and it makes him uneasy. How can people stand this? He felt so terrible, watching people avert their eyes and how their heads like he or anyone else had any right to their humility.

In Morgana’s rooms, Gwen adjusts his coat and combs his hair back in a way he didn’t think would suit him, but he ends up liking. He tries once more to convince her to come with him, to just steal one of Morgana’s old dresses and wear a veil, but she’s convinced she’ll be found out, and isn’t willing to risk it.

Merlin has no such qualms, and has vowed to take her involvement with this little scheme to the grave. Or the stocks.

“You look wonderful,” She says when she finally lays her brush down. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Haha, Guinevere. I just want to see how the other half lives for a night. You’re sure you won’t come?”

And now she rolls her eyes. “The lady Morgan and I are much closer than you and Arthur. She’d notice me, even with a mask. Maybe the next one.”

He smiles softly at her. “Definitely the next one. Besides, you’ll still be there. You’ll just have to endure less of the idle dithering of nobles.”

She giggles, “Merlin, you can’t talk about them like that.”

“I can talk about them however I like dressed like this,” He tugged his collar a bit to show off and that set her off again. She covered her mouth to keep their presence hidden and swatted at him.

“Okay, you’ve made your point. Now go, before it’s over.”

“Love you,” he kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture.

“Please don’t get yourself killed.” Which was as good as an I love you too from Gwen.

“No promises. I did try to fight the prince my first day here.”

—-

Merlin takes a second glass of mead in less than half an hour from a passing try. He knows this will be a terrible idea, but he cannot, to save his own life, stand this lot while sober any longer.

Occasionally one of the nobles will smile and greet him, ask him who he is, but for the most part, people are interested in socializing with those they already know, and the few who approach him are obviously uninterested in him as much as they are interested in the connections he might be able to make them.

“I’m dying out here,” he murmurs to Gwen when she’s pauses briefly to grab another tray to pass around lady Morgana’s table.

“I’m so sorry. You poor dear.” She smirks and he smiles back at her.

“Your turn next.”

“Mhmm, after all the fun you’re having, I can’t wait.”

He laughed as she left and his spirits were lifted for the first time all night. He took a final sip of his mead and left it on a table, deciding to try his luck on the dance floor at the same moment that a set of deep brown eyes caught him from across the room.

“Caught” was not an exaggeration. The smoldering, desirous look in the eyes that looked like they might have been looking at him for a while held him like a man entranced. His breath caught in his throat as the man started to make his way toward him.

He was in chain mail, a knight in a cloak that was unmistakably Camelot red. It wasn’t unlike the cloak he’d cut his mask from.

At the reminder, Merlin focused briefly on his mask, whose transformed state was tenuous. It would last a while longer, maybe an hour, maybe longer.

The determined way the knight walked toward him, through the onlookers, partygoers and celebrators was almost overwhelming. No one tonight had looked so intently upon him. He wasn’t sure how to handle it.

His feet seemed to decide how to handle it for him. Thick dark hair that begged to be tugged at and a mouth made for kissing, it drew him in like so few things ever had. Even with the black mask obscuring his face, Merlin can tell he must be beautiful. The cut of his jaw is too perfect for him not to be.

Merlin is stunned by the time they meet, standing obnoxiously still in the middle of the dance floor. The knight bows to him, and while servants bowing to him had made him uncomfortable, this feels formal, and somehow honorable. He holds out his hand when the knight starts to stand, thinking they might shake, but instead Lancelot takes the offered hand and kisses the back of it, eyes trained on Merlin the entire time.

He is grateful for the cover of the mask, with the way that he can feel the blush forming high on his cheek. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of a knight.

“Hello, My Lord. I am Sir Lancelot.”

Lancelot. He’s heard Arthur speak of him, in passing. An excellent fighter, perhaps as good as the Prince himself. As he stands, Sir Lancelot smiles at him, and Merlin about melts as his stomach flutters and he stands tall, just about eye level with him.

“Hello, Sir Lancelot.” The words are breathier than he means to be, and if Lancelot notices, he gives no indication.

With the slightest bow he asks, “May I have this dance?”

Merlin had been about to dance on his own anyway. Only, Merlin’s never danced any of these formal noble dances, only remembers celebrations in Ealdor, and in the lower town. He isn’t sure of the steps, but Lancelot still hasn’t dropped his hand, and his mouth seems to speak with the same ungiven authority his feet had moved him with.

“Certainly.”

Lancelot takes Merlin’s other hand to place it on his shoulder, and takes Merlin at the waist. It’s what everyone else seems to be doing, and he’s grateful that Lancelot says nothing when they’re pulled so close their chests are nearly flush.

Lancelot starts to move, but Merlin can’t keep time, keeps stumbling over his feet, and Lancelot’s. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer.” Merlin laughs, afraid Lancelot will simply leave, but the man’s returning smile tells another story.

“That’s alright. Just stop thinking so hard about it. I’ll lead.” He pauses briefly to adjust his grip on Merlin’s waist and then Merlin feels the gentle push of the hand there, urging him to move back, forth, left, right, turn, in time with the music. Between Lancelot’s easy leading, and the way his eyes seem to never leave Merlin’s, it’s easy to feel like they are the only two people here, the only ones that matter.

Merlin finds the rhythm eventually, and the gentle coaxing on his hip becomes obsolete. He still misses the feel of Lancelot’s hand in his when they’re suddenly unclasped and grabbing Merlin by the waist, to spin him around with the flourish as the dance came to an end. He laughs, and the answering twinkle in Lancelot’s eyes speaks volumes for how he’s enjoyed himself.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lancelot asked, and Merlin smiles, letting the knight take his hand and kiss it again.

“I’d say it was the best dance I’ve ever had. Thank you, Sir Lancelot.”

“I aim to please.” Another song started up, and Lancelot raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid this one is a group dance. Unless you fancy a half dozen partners and more steps than you can count, we might sit this one out.”

Merlin laughed, “I certainly don’t want that. Get a drink with me?” Merlin doesn’t need another drink, but he is parched.

When Lancelot offers his elbow to Merlin, he almost rolls his eyes, but can’t help the grin it illicits. “Such a gentleman.” He smiles, and Lancelot returns it. They take a seat at a nearby table, long since unoccupied in favor of the dancing.

Lancelot serves him mead before a servant can, highly unusual for a knight, as Merlin is well aware. “Thank you,” he waits for Lancelot to serve his own glass and clinks them together before taking a healthy sip from his. The warmth of the joy of Lancelot and the mead mix together, leaving him feeling heady and relaxed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name. Is that terrible?” Lancelot asked, and Merlin laughed in response.

“Few would. I’m hardly a common attendee of these sorts of things. I’m Emerys of Ealdor.”

“Such a beautiful name, for a beautiful man,” Lancelot gestured for a servant to bring the tray they were holding, and thanked him graciously as he served both Merlin and himself honey cakes. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ealdor. Is it far from here?”

“Yes. I don’t see it much, anymore. It’s in Essetir, and it is not exactly safe to pass between the two lands. I haven’t been home in many years.”

Lancelot frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I too can not return home. I know how lonely that can be.”

Merlin smiled sadly. “Yes. But I do make friends wherever I go, and that helps.”

“I hope perhaps I may one day be counted among them?” Lancelot raies and eyebrow and Merlin’s besotted.

“Easily. So you do not come from Camelot?”

“No. I was a wonderer for a long time, learning sword craft to become a knight of Camelot, one of the noblest lands I know of.”

“One of?” Merlin asked, and he’s honestly curious. He’s used to the way the knights talk about Camelot, like it is perfect, the most wonderful place to live with the most impressive king.

“The King is very noble. He has a heart for the people not all Kings can boast.”

“But?” Merlin pushes, and Lancelot smiles uneasily.

“But not all of the people of Camelot belong in the King’s heart. It is not always my desire to carry out the laws against magic users, if they’ve done no wrong. But I am always loyal to my king.” He took a sip of his mead, pulling gently on the collar of his shirt.

Merlin didn’t know what it felt like to fall in love, but he thought perhaps this might be it. Like falling and being overwhelmed, and wanting nothing more to steal away with someone who appeared perfect in every way.

“I must say I agree.” He said, and Lancelot visibly relaxed. “But like you, I have no ill will toward the King. He does what he believes to be right, and that is all any man can be asked to do.” And perhaps one day he would see that he was not right. Merlin could only hope.

“Yes. Will you be in Camelot long, after the festival?” The question is so obviously probing that Merlin feels a bit of glee at it, even as his heart sinks, because he can’t have this man. Lancelot is a knight of Camelot, and Merlin is a servant.

“I’m afraid not. I leave tonight,” Merlin smiled wanly, and Lancelot’s face mirrors him.

“There’s no possibility of your plans being changed?”

“No. I’m expected somewhere tomorrow. We’ll have to ride through the night to get there.” This is the first true lie Merlin has told all night, and it aches to say. Lancelot cares for magic users, and he’s kind, and he didn’t ask Merlin what connections he had or how he might be helpful to him. He just wanted to have a dance and talk.

He looks away and meets Gwen’s eyes, somewhere over Lancelot’s shoulders. She looks so sad, and he knows he must look the same.

“When might you be back? In Camelot, I mean?”

“I can’t say. It’s only coincidence that brought me here tonight.” This at least, is true. Merlin never could’ve come to this party if not for Gwen coincidentally finding the discarded clothing in the closer of a long disgraced nobleman. The fact that they happened to fit Merlin was also happenstance, and if not for that, he’d never be here. With an hour of Gwen’s help, she’d been able to tailor them nearly to perfect, and he was loathe to admit he looked quite good.

“That is a shame. We must enjoy tonight then.”

“Yes, we must.”

The song changed and Merlin took as delicate a bite as he could manage of his honey cake before taking Lancelot’s hand. “Teach me to dance some more, you’re fantastic at it.”

This brought a smile to Lancelot’s face. “It would be an honor, my lord.”

They take to the dance floor. This dance, whatever it is, is far more complicated than the last one, and Lancelot also stumbles through it occasionally, which makes Merlin feel just a bit better.

“We’ve nearly got it!” Merlin laughed when the music ended, and Lancelot bowed to him again. Merlin is about to ask him for another one when a tall figure suddenly approaches them.

“Mind if I cut in?” Says another knight of Camelot, this one completely disregarding the dresscode and lacking a mask. His long hair came to his shoulder and Merlin would’ve found him incredibly attractive if it weren’t for the fact Lancelot was already the center of his night.

Merlin bows goodbye to Lancelot, thinking this knight has come for his equal, he certainly wouldn’t be the only knight to do so, but then he sees the hard edge of Lancelot’s eyes and is a bit confused.

“My Lord.” The new knight says, and takes Merlin’s hand, sweeping him away from Lancelot without waiting for so much as a “by your leave.”

“I’m Sir Gwaine. You’re a pretty thing,” the knight says, and Merlin doesn’t find this compliment as positive as Lancelot’s.

“I’m sorry if I have no desire to be called an object.” He said stiffly, and Gwaine laughed.

“You’ve got nerve. Lancelot must like that.” Merlin was swept up and turned, his hands barley having time to grip Gwaine’s shoulders and stabilize himself as he was lifted into the air. “I’m sorry to intrude. Sir Lancelot is one of my dearest friends, and a bit of teasing always does him good. Can you see him?” He leaned in to whisper these last words in his ear and Merlin’s eyes start searching the floor for Lancelot.

He’s not on the dance floor, but is watching them with a deep intensity from the spot where they’d sat and ate the song before. “You’ve upset him.”

“Well, you didn’t have to accept.” The man smiled, and Merlin scowled.

“I thought you were asking for Lancelot, not me. Besides, you didn’t give me time to either accept or deny. Just carried me off like some sort of brute.”

“My apologies.” But nothing about his tone seemed apologetic. “However, when Lancelot gets his hands back on you, I think you might just thank me for my little intervention.”

Merlin’s barely following along with whatever steps, but he’s starting to fume. “What is this? Some sort of joke? Do you find that appropriate?”

“I meant no harm,” He smiled, “I swear.” They turned and for a second his eyes focused over Merlin’s shoulder and he grimaced. “But I’m afraid I may have gone too far. I’m going to get it in training tomorrow.” He focused on Merlin again to grin. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.” The song ended and Merlin just barely put up with a peck on his hand. Before he can pull away, Gwaine holds his hand tight, and Merlin freezes. “Lancelot hasn’t looked this happy for a very long time. I hope you don’t mean to dash his heart.”

Merlin is shocked at the insinuation. “I’ve only just met him. There are no hearts involved.”

“Mmm, you haven’t known Lancelot as long as I have. I assure you, there are.” He made Merlin take his arm and lead him back to the table where Lancelot was sitting. There was a blond knight standing beside him now, leaning in and murmuring something in his ear. “He falls so quick it’s a marvel he’s ever on his feet. But he’s loyal. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea if you mean to disappear.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, stiffening, and Gwaine shrugged.

“I’ve never seen you before. Neither has anyone else I’ve asked. You’re passing through. Who’s to say how you got an invitation, but you’re not likely to return if you’re making no move to introduce yourself to everyone here. I’ve been a wanderer, I know the signs of someone who only intends to stay one night. If you’ve no intention to stay, I wish you’d leave him be.”

“It’s complicated,” Merlin said voice still tense.

“Everything is. My word stands.” They arrive at the table and Lancelot stands, pulling out Merlin’s chair for him, glaring at Gwaine.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I couldn’t get enough of our new friend. But he’s all yours now, Lancelot.”

Merlin takes a seat and is relieved for Gwaine to go. Lancelot looks him over like he’s afraid he might’ve been mauled. “Are you alright? I know Gwaine tends to be a bit… forward.”

Merlin laughed, a bit uncomfortable now after what Gwaine’d said. “I’m alright. He wasn’t too forward. Just a bit blunt.”

“Yes, he’s like that.” Merlin followed Lancelot’s gaze to Gwaine, and hoped that Lancelot did beat Gwaine on the training field tomorrow.

The honey cake he’d left is still there, and so he takes another bite. Things like this were so rarely afforded to him he had to force himself not to scarf it down. The cake was soft and crumbled easily in his mouth, giving way to a sweet, delicate flavor. The soft sigh of pleasure from the taste of it all drew Lancelot’s gaze briefly to his lips, and Merlin felt his face heat. “I don’t usually indulge.” He said, as way of explanation, and Lancelot smiled.

“I’m glad you’ve given yourself the pleasure tonight. Camelot’s kitchens are famous.”

“I can see why.” He says, taking another bite of the delicious cake.

“Perhaps they might entice you back.” Lancelot says with a hopeful look, and Merlin swallows.

“Perhaps.” He’s starting to think that maybe this is no good anymore. He’s playing with this man’s heart, pretending to be someone he is not. As much fun as this is, and much as he’s possibly developing a crushing love for Lancelot, this is wrong. They could never be, simply by the virtue of Merlin’s station.

A clock, somewhere far off, strikes and he jumpsin his seat. He checks the magic holding his mask and finds it worryingly close to breaking. He can’t let his face be seen here.

Luckily, he has a readymade excuse.

“Hell.” He murmurs, putting down the cake and being careful to use the napkin to clean his fingers. Had to keep up this act of nobility, no matter how much he’d rather lick the crumbs from his fingers. “I have to go.” He drops the napkin down and pushes his chair back, throwing Lancelot an apologetic look that is more genuine that Merlin meant it to be.

“What? It’s only midnight. Please.” He takes Merlin’s hand as he stands, stopping him from going any further.

“I have to go. My carriage will be waiting. I was suppose to be there ten minutes ago.” Merlin tugs on his hand, but Lancelot holds it, doesn’t let it go.

“Please, I can’t- It’s too soon.” His pleading hurts Merlin, but now that his anxiety has taken over, he knows it’s just a matter of time before the mask becomes a scrap of cloth and falls from his face.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He pulls his hand out of Lancelot’s and rushes as much as he dares to the door.

Sir Gwaine blocks his path just as he gets to the door. “Leaving so soon? Can’t I tempt you for another dance?” Merlin can’t read his face, is too worried to even think about trying.

When he looks behind him and sees Lancelot coming for them, he starts to truly panic. He can’t afford a delay.

He turns his face away from Gwaine and mutters a spell to drop a nearby server’s tray. This distracts Gwaine just long enough for Merlin to slip past him and out of the great hall.

He can hear Lancelot coming, calling after him, but he dare not look back. He mutters a second spell to slam the ballroom doors. This will serve both to slow Lancelot’s progress and hide which way Merlin goes goes.

And considering he’s going deeper into, rather than out of, the castle, it’s very important no one sees his retreat.

He slips through the halls, hearing Lancelot’s cries echo and then disappear as he goes toward the castle door, looking for him.

He’ll never find him.

Merlin swipes uselessly at his prickling eyes. He hadn’t wanted to leave Lancelot, but after what Gwaine had said, he couldn’t stay in good conscience. He swallowed hard to try and keep himself collected, and finally ducked into Gaius’ rooms, gracefully empty.

As soon as the door was closed he felt his magic break and the mask become a scrap of fabric. Camelot-red fell into his lap, and he stared at it, thinking of what might have been, and let himself cry.

#minimercelotweek2021 #bbc merlin #merlance #mercelot #lancelin #lancelot/merlin #merlin/lancelot #merlin x lancelot #lancelot x merlin #day 1: beauty

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