#low key may do some small comics about it

[waffles-art-writing]

Music Is An Escape, So Is Touch - Ghost!Platonic x Fem!Reader (JOKER)

Summary: The quiet night of finding a place to listen to your music by yourself, turns into a night of soft music and a comforting presence by the one person you would never expect.

Proofread: Nope - Well kinda… not really.

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x Fem!Reader - Kinda more a Ghost!Platonic x Fem! Reder

WordCount: 2.8k

Age Rating: Any

Codename: JOKER. ( Part 1 - Part 2 )

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: PTSD, smidge of trauma, Fluffy Fluff, self esteem issues and self image issues.

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has shown interest in this little series! And for everyone’s support of my writing! It means a lot. :) also I kinda stick with the design of Ghost from the comics and stuff for this one. I may also draw something related to JOKER and the 141 if y’all are interested. :)

Taglist: @boogieman-23 (Tell me if you want to be in Tag list for this series)

——————————————————

You weren’t one to openly share your things, music, earphones or headphones, or anything really. Unless you really had to, like they were going to suffer without them. But when it comes to music, everyone kinda just looks at you like you’re some weird person when you say you don’t want to share. ‘What do you listen to preschool songs on loop all day?’ Your friends - albeit your ex-friends - would joke, causing you to curl in on yourself even more when it came to choosing music for a road trip, party, or a group study session. Which more likely turned into a bitch talk and boy talk get together, which you didn’t mind but it did affect your grades at times.

When it comes to the rare time that it is quiet on base, being able to be by yourself. Unbothered by Soap’s pestering or Gaz’s questions, or even Price requesting you to help train some poor sod who fainted when they saw Ghost lurking in the shadows. You were able to find a quiet spot, plug your earphones into your phone and just listen to your music. It’s almost like an escape from the hellish reality that is life, it allows you to block out all the voices in your head that tell you everything that is bad about yourself, nit-pick at everything you do.

Your footsteps are quiet as you walk across base, the night air cold in your lungs, it stings every so slightly, but it is soothing. Better than the burning fire fire that is crackling within you most days from the anxiety and the stomach churning memories of the day you ran for your life, silently wishing you could’ve just been shot there and then, and not have to deal with the prying eyes of every woman or man that works at the base you’re currently stationed at.

Your hands are burrowed deep in your hoodie pocket, wrapped around your phone and tangled mess of earphones, Price allowed you to have your phone for music while in the medical wing. Thankfully he didn’t mind you having it outside of that white tiled, chemical filled building. The same building you have silently committed to the ‘Buildings I will burn before I die’ list. It ranks pretty high.

You peek around the large building, looking to see if anyone is out and about, it’s spring, so it’s not too cold but still chilly. The floodlights are on, the bright light beaming down on a few people outside, some talking others playing a game of some sort. You couldn’t tell from the distance you’re at, you’re on the outskirts of the base, skirting around the lights and populated areas. You may have a scarf on to bury your face in but you’re not going to risk being seen.

You quickly make your way across an open area of the base, dashing towards the low stone wall that runs between the residential area of the base and the more tactical and defensive area. You see the small lights of the runway glow in the distance, a few military vehicles scattered around, one behind you thankfully. You sit on the low stone wall, your feet dangling like a child on a chair, swinging them slightly to keep the chill at bay.

Your fingers work on the tangled mess of your earphones, the rubbery cord becoming an annoyance. Your phone still resides in your pocket, waiting to be switched on. You sigh as you tug at the black and red cord, hoping you’re not damaging the wires inside. After a few minutes, which felt like hours, you finally get the cord untangled, sighing with relief when you plug them in and can hear the music easily.

“Finally” you sigh, tipping your head back, eyes closed. You lean on your hands, fingers clutching the uneven surface of the stone wall. Your eyes flutter open to look up at the stars, the shinny twinkling dots, they could’ve died but we just don’t know yet. The light from them still reaches us before the darkness of the night sky swallows them, drowning them in the dark blues and purples of space.

The music plays softly, drowning out the breeze, the distant chatter from the people outside, the crickets and other night animals that lurk outside of the base. You’re not really paying attention to the music, but more to the stars, trying to find the constellations that hide amongst the other stars. Your mind finally quiet, no inner voice berating you, making you want to crawl under a rock and die. Not making you feel like everyone is staring at you, looking down on you, making you feel miserable and lonely. Just peace and quiet, almost tranquil.

A noise, a sharp baritone noise sounds out from your right.

Fear bubbles in your veins, hands ripping the earphones from your ears harshly, causing a slight wince. You head snapping to the side, eyes scanning the darkness, hands pushing on the wall ready for your fight or flight instinct to kick in. Flight is almost winning when you see the outline of a figure, tall and broad, clearly powerful.

“It’s just me, Kid.” The Manchester accent of your Lieutenant pierces the night air, your lungs that were on fire now simmer down to a low flame, eyes once wide now lowered. Your hands loosen on the rocks, picking at the rough surface as you bury your face into the warm scarf around your neck. You sigh as you see Ghost’s boots enter your vision, warmth is radiating off him like a large fire, it’s comforting when you know who is next to you. “Sorry if I scared you, Joker.” The timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, you just know he is looking at you with his cold and calculating eyes, a frown probably pasted on his lips under the dark mask.

“It’s fine…” You pause, breathing in deeply, trying to find your voice. “Just didn’t expect to see ya out here is all.” Ghost just hums in acknowledgment, the same deep sound rippling the air around you. He’s sitting next to you, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his arms folded as he leans into the metal side of the large armoured vehicle behind you two. He seems at ease, quaint, almost peaceful.

You glance up at him, he’s still stiff as a board, no surprise there. You look away, looking out over the runway and open space, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, clearly seeing the faint outline of the mountains in the distance.

“What were you listening to?” The man next to you asks, his voice low, trying to keep the peaceful atmosphere around you. You glance over your shoulder at him, in question for a moment. The large man is looking at you, motioning with his hand to your pocket, to your phone. “Oh uh… nothing that you’ll know of” you mumble, trying to avoid having to share your music. “I’m sure I would’ve heard of it, at least.” He replies, he doesn’t sound annoyed, just sounds tired, you can’t blame him. So are you, you’re beyond exhausted, sleep deprived.

“It’s uh… it’s ‘It is so’ by Elevation Worship” you finally state, after checking the screen of your phone, it’s at the 3.36 mark, just over halfway through the song. Ghost tilts his head slightly, trying to decipher why you’re so closed off about your music, he’s pushing his own boundaries when it comes to you. Becoming more open, concerned, approachable.

“Haven’t heard that one” his voice brings your mind out of the dark cloud that looms over your head, the voice taunting you with insults and remarks about your music, saying no one likes it. “Not many have… at least I don’t think. I like it…” you state, bringing your knees to your chin, balancing on the wall with ease. Your phone and earphones are still tucked away in your pocket, music paused and waiting to be listened to.

“Mind if I listen?” He asks, adjusting himself on the wall to lean forward onto his elbows, trying to see your expression. But there’s no need. You look at him, face hidden behind the scarf - apart from your eyes up - your brows are furrowed with hesitation. “Wha-” you cut yourself short when you realise your staring at him, I mean he stares at you why can’t you stare at him? But it’s still rude to stare.

“I guess yeah, I just didn’t peg you to be into this type of music.” You mumble as you dig around for your phone, Ghost lets out a short huff of air. A chuckle? “Well I don’t know what it sounds like, so I can’t say anything.” Your face blanks when you realise that he’s right, if he hasn’t heard the song, he can’t have an opinion on it.

You tap your screen dragging the song back to the beginning, handing an earphone to Ghost, who in turn accepts. You pause for a moment, how is he going to put it in when he’s got his mask on? “I can uh turn around for you to put it in… yea I’ll do that” to stumble with your words, feeling horrible for giving it to him when he would have to lift his mask when he’s so careful that no one would or could see his face. A mumble ‘thanks’ comes from him when you turn your head away, your eyes skipping across the different stones you can see in the limited moonlight. The moon is only a quarter full, very little light is shining down on the earth.

Your mind is miles away when you feel Ghost tap your shoulder lightly. He’s been calling your name for a few moments now, he was worried you might have fallen asleep. You flinch and turn to look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “You okay?” You nod your head, looking down at your phone and following the black and red cord up to where it disappears under the skull balaclava. “Just lost in thought is all.” You mumble as you fiddle with your phone, turning the music on and putting the other earbud in.

(I suggest to listen to the song: It Is So - Elevation Worship)

You sit there, eyes towards the sky, watching them attentively. Mind mumbling within your head as you get comfortable with Ghost’s presence, his warmth that’s radiating next to you. You hear him shift, probably just getting comfortable.

Ghost is content, interested in the meaning behind the lyrics. Slowly connecting the dots between the song and you, he watches as your eyes watch the stars. He has this little warm feeling bubbling in him, happy you’re not scared of him, happy to not hide in on yourself, happy you’re opening up to him. He’s happy.

You sigh as you pay more and more attention to the lyrics, your head dropping, eyes looking at your lap, tracing the camo pattern of your cargo pants. Hands fiddling with a pebble you found on the wall, trying to get your mind away from the tingling feeling that’s forming behind your eyes. Your eyes flutter close, a single tear rolls down your cheek. You're wishing, hoping, begging that Ghost can’t see it or hear how your throat is tightening and choking the breath from you. You don’t want to disturb the tranquillity you two have. But to your demise you sniffle.

Warmth envelopes your hands, not rough material of gloves but the rough calluses of Ghost’s hand. You turn your hand over, threading your fingers with his. His grip is tight as you feel him rub small circles on the back of your hand. He’s moved closer. His shoulder touching yours lightly, he could practically see you shutting down, curling in on yourself. Knowing how it is when you’re left to your own thoughts. He’s been there and done that many times. He doesn’t push you to do anything, just allows you to grip his hand like it’s your life line.

You turn to hide your face into his shoulder, your mind is taking in the lyrics and playing them through your memories, new and old. A small sob leaves you, your forehead is pressing into his shoulder. You’re beyond thankful that he’s here with you, supporting you in his own way.

Ghost stays quiet, allowing you to feel the emotions, he knows he could do more but he doesn’t know how. He’s stuck in his own mind more times than ever, he knows your pain. He’s taking a large step by holding your hand, especially without his gloves, knowing you just needed something to ground you past the music. His own chest aches ever so slightly when he feels you lean into him more, he adjusts slightly, letting go of your hand to tuck you into his side more. His hand coming to rest on your arm, keeping you close, he rests his chin on your head. Breathing slowly, silently encouraging you to match him.

Your hands grip his jacket, hands curling around the thick material. “I’m here kid, just breathe.” His voice low as he mumbles into your hair, you keep your face hidden in his shoulder, your breathing slowing as you focus on his breath. “That’s it.” You let out a shaky breath, not thinking about moving as you stay tucked up to him.

“Thank you…” you whisper, looking up at Ghost. He shakes his head lightly, his hand coming up to move some hair from your face. “I’m always here for you.” He mumbles, he dips his head resting his forehead on yours, luckily he’s just wearing the plain black balaclava and not the one with the hard skull. The skull would’ve hurt.

You stay like that for a few moments, listening to each other's breathing, foreheads pressed together. Your eyes flutter open meeting his, dark molten chocolate eyes surrounded by the dark greasey paint. You smile slightly at the feeling of his thumb brushing over the scars that paint your cheeks, his touch is feather light. “Don’t blame yourself alright? Or I’ll have to put you on cleaning duty for a week, copy?” He lightly sneers, his tone holding a hint of sarcasm. “Copy that L.T” you smirk. “Atta’ girl.” He quips, his mask shifting, eyes squinting slightly from his hidden smile.

The Ghost smiled, smiled with you.

#ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare

[coffee-or-murder]

For the interview asks:

Effie- 7, 17, 26

Daffodil- 12, 16, 33

Effie doesn't have a portrait because I cannot for the life of me settle on her gd face. More under the cut.

Effie- 7, 17, 26

7. You have the key to immortality in your hands. But not for free. If you want it, as a price, your worst enemy also gains immortality. Is it worth it?

Effie puts her hand to her chest, bright green eyes gone comically wide as she gasps lightly.  “I would never leave my Tempie behind! Now that she’s in my life I couldn’t imagine living that long without her! If we don’t die together in bed, old and loved, I won't know what to do with myself,” she says, pulling her hand back far enough from her chest to examine her neatly kept bright pink glittery nails. “Besides I would never give the cunt the satisfaction of living such a long life. Sort of defeats the whole purpose of me ruining it doesn’t it? No satisfaction if she just kept on living forever afterwards. Sooner or later her suffering would be so totally stale.”

17. Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else, either physically or mentally? To whom and why? Did it scare you?

She thinks about that for a long moment, twirling a lock of hair as she rolls the thought around a bit. “You know I have. It’s like….like the kind of satisfaction that comes from breaking down someone who spent their leisure time destroying other people's entire lives,” Effie says with a small shrug. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you who, that’s what NDA’s are for. You totally get it. I know they’re such a pain but an NDA is an NDA. Anywho I was totally within the bounds of the law when I did ruin them. Just because there was some social backlash doesn’t mean it wasn’t right. I’m not worried about enjoying it. My Tempie would stop me from going past the point of no return, if not by her direct action then my love for her would keep my reigns held tight.”

26. Is your personal happiness more important than anything else in the world? Than fame? Than the happiness of others?

Effie snorts, entirely unladylike, and covers her mouth as she grins. “While I am a bit of a hedonist with some things, there’s stuff I totally admit is more important than my own personal stuff. Tempie’s happiness for example. Fame doesn’t mean all that much if the people I care about aren’t cared for anyway.”  

Daffodil- 12, 16, 33

12. If someone else stole something and you stole it back is that a good deed, a bad deed or one of equal worth? Are you better than the original thief?

Daffodil leans her chin on one curled hand, lilac eyes sparking with mischief. “Have you been conversing with my dearest ever new delight? This seems quite like its source may stem from the ever turning mind of our captain Magpie,” she teases lightly, leaning back as she settles more into her seat. “Larceny can be many things, righteous or disreputable depending upon many factors the one may not always be in total dominion over. I do not believe either deed has any effect on the other really, and as long as our architect does not make a game of pilfering my family's good silver, I do believe I will leave the burglary in the hands of the professionals.” 

16. Have you ever contemplated killing someone? Who and why? Would you ever act on it? Are you frightened you might?

Daffodil looks directly at, or perhaps through, the interviewer as a sharp smile sets her gaze alight. “Darling I am well versed in many a trade. Death is not a stranger in my business, nor will they ever be. They dine at my table as easily as I at theirs,” she purrs, maintaining frankly too much eye contact as she speaks, lilting soprano voice gone low and even. “Those who attempt to harm my muses will find that I am quite the composer of final ballades, and I relish the opportunity to share my song, even if I should not deign to stoop to their level. I would not wish to upset my lionheart with such a slaughter, or draw too much undue attention to my privateer, so it is a rare song I sing in its familiar refrain.” 

33. If you could wipe certain memories from your head, would you? Why would you? What memories?

She plays with the thought for a long moment, twisting it to see different sides, before ultimately shaking her head. “No. The music would be poorer without the most varied experiences. My muses provide all the comfort I would require regardless of what the machinations of those in a higher power may thrust upon the path.”

#dnd effie #effie dnd #daffodil dnd #dnd daffodil

[parkers-gal]

masterlist

requests | closed to complete current requests <3

last updated | aug 5th, 2021

do not repost my work anywhere !! respect this please. | fics are not ordered in any particular way. these headers are mine so pls don’t use/take them

tom holland

insomnia - reader can’t get to sleep; tom finds out why

driving in the rain - fluffy dinner date and rainy drive back home

workouts and warmth - when all tom wants is some after-workout cuddles

from across the living room - announcing your engagement to your families

the one - you want to move out and get your own place as a couple, but tom doesn’t. nikki talks to him. 

anything for the twins - tom massages reader’s boobies during her period

moms, makeouts, and mishaps - nikki walks in during your makeout sesh

simple acts of intimacy - a fluffy 3.1k words worth of blurbs

silver surprises - the reader surprises tom at a premiere

twenty questions - questions ensue after tom & reader get stuck in an elevator

my gut - spinoff of twenty questions with claustrophobic!reader (tw/ anxiety + attacks)

stealth mode - tom & reader scaring each other

unicorns vs pegasuses - tom shuts the reader up by kissing them

a good story - tom meets reader at a meet & greet — friendships blossom to lovers

deal breaker - tom wants kids, but the reader does not

his lap - reader asks for help in overcoming an insecurity; tom misreads the situation

pool day - pool day w/ tom + the boys

hot - the reader picks a certain song that reminds her of tom - the boys go wild

grounded by rocks - tom talks about you in an interview for cherry

your hands - when all he wants is a simple head massage

late flights - in which tom takes too much time with the fans

nobody wanted to - where only one person makes it out alive

way more than 50 - the hollands trick the reader into thinking they did something they weren’t supposed to 

why [ pt ii ] - sweet cupcakes, and a not so sweet breakup

what looks suspicious - nikki doesn’t exactly approve of tom dating the reader

something sweet - reader drops off small gifts while tom’s on set

he remembers - when tom finds the letter

missed you - reuniting w/tom after four long months

soft gangsta - tom tries to dress edgy; the reader is unconvinced

the shoe game - reader & tom play the shoe game at their wedding

too much - when the reader has a rough time with work, tom comforts them

losing grip [ pt ii ] - a losing battle between the reader and a hereditary disease causes heartbreak

your captain america - protective!tom holland of young reader (age gap)

sexy genius - reader is a fan of (and meets) jake gyllenhaal

teddy bear cuddles - tom wears an oversized hoodie

nonsense - the boys think the reader is meddling with tom’s work

circles before yourself - rule #2 - osterfield!reader gets caught with tom

seventeen times - when the reader is having a hard time in lock down, tom tries to help (TW // depression)

pixie dust hair - tom assures insecure!reader that the pixie haircut looks good <3

a few more months - reader passes out during a run; tw // excessive exercising

tiktok au’s

body ody ody - tom gets a little jealous over a few social media comments 

sweats in the supermarket - getting tom hard when he wears sweats

put your records on - trying not to kiss each other first

mood killer - saying dirty things into tom’s ear

say it back - pranking tom by not saying ily back to him

two different ways - tom choking the reader to get two different reactions 

brutal - doing the “did you mean to post this?” trend on tom 

worst thirty minutes of my life - playing a drinking game with tom to see who gives into cuddles first

my girl’s cuddles - crawling into tom’s lap 

even - buying hot leggings & taping tom’s reaction 

goofball - a silly way to reveal reader’s pregnancy to tom 

end the debate - “i found out why my boobs are small” trend

slam the car door - doing the car door prank on tom 

water bottle wars - the boys ask you and tom questions about each other. wrong answers result in sprayed water 

get you back real good - you & the boys prank tom after watching a scary movie 

peachy - sighing / moaning in front of tom playing video games to get his reaction

my princess - tom does a tiktok where he guesses all your answers to everyday questions

dad!tom

needles and needs - when scarlet has to get shots, you realize she may not be the only one that needs comforting

all my girls - scarlet meets her baby sister for the first time (dad!tom)

everything i love about u - tom is afraid baby red might hate him for leaving home too much

a little extra help - stepdad!tom being the best dad to your daughter

through the tears - pregnant!reader goes into labour, and baby holland meets the family

first feed - tom watches you breastfeed for the first time

warmth from the love - baby holland’s first Christmas

first words - baby holland speaks for the first time

breaking the internet - when your pregnancy announcement crashes multiple apps/websites (pregnant!reader)

breaking the internet... again - when baby holland breaks the internet

boyfriends and brunch - when jade brings home her boyfriend (aged!up)

big sister + how are babies made - telling scarlet about the baby on the way (pregnant!reader)

too many kids - the reader’s dad has some commentary about the twins

mumma’s girl - tom gets jealous when scarlet isn’t a daddy’s girl

angels - a little skin to skin time with his best girl

family man - after a nasty breakup, tom finds out you had his child

cheesy uncles - telling paddy he’s going to be an uncle

ag!reader (more to come !!)

y’all really get nasty - tom and the fans discuss ag!reader’s songs

my favorite things - ag!reader performs in front of the mcu cast at the grammy’s

34 + 35 - the boys react to reader’s new song(s)

34 + 35 remix - the boys reacting to the remix

his remedy - the boys react to positions deluxe

neglected - AG!reader breaks up w tom because of their job; tom searches for answers

low-key wants him - reader talks about how much nonna (+ her fam) loves tom

see u soon - reader interacts with tom while on stage for the swt

a few spilled secrets - AG!reader performs on jimmy fallon’s show.. tom and her confess a few secrets

for the first time - when the reader breaks down crying while singing about her ex, tom is there to comfort her

dance with me, rain on me - reader has a hard time on set, tom to the rescue

every tomorrow - the first album release night after your breakup

here we go again - introducing tom (+ the boys) to your celebrity friends

condoms or safety nets - the boys react to AG!reader’s song “safety net”

we’re not engaged - AG!reader announcing to the world why they no longer have a fiance... (fluffy)

the late late show - AG!reader & tom do spill your guts or fill your guts

pain from pleasure - dad!tom goes through a birth simulator — controlled by the reader

never have i ever - tom & the reader play a game on the late late show

fluffy hair - ag!reader has a zoom interview with zach sang. tom makes an appearance

fighting off the haters - ag!reader and older!tom holland (age gap) attend an award show after going public

run your hands thru my hair - tom reacts to ag!reader’s song “my hair”

stick to acting - tom tries to make a beat for ag!reader

practically twins - reader meets sebastian & anthony at comic con

damn lucky - black!reader wears her hair naturally during an interview

what a piece - reader talks about tom related songs & tattoos

flip it - tom talks about reader in an interview

at the door - older!reader & tom fight off haters

a headcannon of ag!reader being a marvel cast member

a headcannon of tom & the reader attending the avengers endgame premiere

styles!reader (more to come !!)

bathroom kisses - makeout sessions with tom and styles!reader in the bathroom

yeah, he is - tom holland x styles!reader meet the styles family; protective older brother harry makes an appearance

unparalleled love - older brother harry styles makes a speech at reader’s wedding

grilled - date night for tom & styles!reader is a bit difficult with two kids; older brother!harry to the rescue

baby showers and brothers - dad!tom & styles!reader are going to be parents

potential boyfriend - tom has a crush on the reader when they first meet

ts!reader (more to come!!)

trust me - tom & the reader defend her after nikki doesn’t approve

your london boy - tom & co. + the world reacts to “london boy”

boy of my dreams - tom being proud of the reader for winning a grammy

rapper!tom

tom records your sounds during sex for his music (hc)

tom talks about you in an interview

concepts: one , two , three

professor!tom

my pretty girl - tom gets jealous when reader gets many valentines

other reader tropes

cherry - reader is a screenwriter for tom’s upcoming movie

no shouting - singer!reader needs some help after paparazzis are too much (based on a video of tom)

pregnancy belly - actress!reader has to wear a pregnancy belly for her role, and the boys tease tom about when it’ll be real

we march - actress!reader being a huge feminist

passions & pediatricians - pediatrician-to-be!reader meets tom

politics - reader’s granpa is joe biden (requested) and tom meets him

extra support - psychiatrist!reader helps tom on the set of cherry

you made it big - tom holland x actress!reader at the after party

partition - the boys react to famous!reader singing partition

senorita - singer!reader makes a music video with shawn, who’s tom’s new best friend

miniseries 

boomerang: one , two , three , four [completed]

peter parker

making amends

➢ enemies to lovers ; college!peter x super soldier!reader ; 30k words ; sorta slow burn

cheeky guy, favorite thighs - college!peter doing a tik tok challenge — between the reader’s thighs [tik tok au]

a little nicer - doing the prank on peter (”you could’ve been a little nicer to me today”)

start searching - first make out sessions with our best boy :)

hidden hickeys - the avengers think innocence of peter, until they’re proven wrong

the team - part two of hidden hickeys; reader meets the avengers

all of you - late night talks about your future with peter :’)

like you wouldn’t believe - reader tells mj about her & peter’s awesome sex

slip from my hands - roommate!peter comforts the reader after a nightmare

i’d wait for her - college!peter parker needs to come to terms with you and your boyfriend

shut up and kiss me - soft make out sessions with peter :)

all the good things in the world, and i get you - insecure!reader needs a little reassuring 

modern chivalry - peter being a gentleman on the subway

eggnog and mistletoe - peter helps you love the holidays

the force awakens? it sleeps - a little extra comfort & care from our favorite baby boyfriend 

a prince - wonder woman!reader meets spider-man (& avengers) in a mission

steve rogers fics - peter finds you reading fanfiction abt steve rogers

fanboy!peter

fanboys and bracelets - fanboy!peter parker goes to famous!singer!reader’s meet and greet

fanboys and phone numbers - fanboy!peter parker continuation 

showing around - fanboy!peter gets VIP access; some dancing ensues

stark!reader + avengers!reader

if you knew feelings - the avengers want you & peter to break up

sleeping - peter misinterprets a few important questions

the may to your ben - college!best friend!peter parker x stark!reader fluff

race ya - peter confesses his feelings for rogers!reader after a mission — on comms

frat bathrooms - stark!reader joins the avengers where she sees college!peter, the boy she slept with at a frat party

rainy days - reader doesn’t like rainy days, a certain wall-climber changes their mind

already got her - jealous!peter makes a public confession

flustered!peter

a nervous one - flustered!peter parker sees cheerleader!reader in her uniform

one day soon - flustered!peter parker x affectionate!reader

all better - flustered!peter parker does some lab flirting with reader

dad!peter + pregnant!reader

unplanned  [ part ii ] - reader gets pregnant... breaks up with peter to avoid it all

burrito wraps - reader worries that baby parker might be cold

a name to remember - latine!reader & peter give their girl a special name

you’re magic - a certain wall crawler hears two heartbeats

sgt. bucky barnes

first cuddles - bucky asks to cuddle for the first time

harry holland

golden light, the love of my life - the boys tease harry —on a live video— for being whipped

it won’t f^cking open - harry lends a helping hand

how much i - those three magical words are exchanged for the first time

cuddly koala moments - time the reader just needed harry’s warmth

anything for hands - the reader cuts harry’s hair on instagram live

your other best friend - the reader is sam’s new friend, but harry thinks they like tom instead

you’re my anchor - harry has an anxiety attack, but the reader knows what to do

what’s his [ pt ii ] - when everything thinks the reader should date tom instead, harry snaps

whipped fries - harry brags about the reader winning the pub quiz for them

tell me, show me - the reader makes harry flustered by playing w/the strings from his sweatpants

keep your cool - tom setting u up with his brother // nikki being wary

ag!reader

you’re such a dream to me — ag!reader writes r.e.m. about harry

harry styles

intoxicating - soft bubbles baths with long haired!harry 

frayed braids - reader braids long haired!harry’s hair

others:

harrison osterfield

not anymore - when harrison comes back from filming, he’s determed to win the reader’s heart

irreversible - when relationships fall apart, people fall apart. (infidelity)

circles before yourselves - rule #1  - harrison x osterfield!reader (sister) when brothers talk, bad things begin

think of her - harrison asks your family for their blessing [holland!sister]

steve harrington

together not never - steve discovers the reader is pregnant

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #tom holland fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland angst #peter parker imagine #tom holland oneshot #peter parker blurb #tom holland hc #peter parker x reader insert #tom holland fic #peter parker fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x fem!reader #dad!peter parker #college!peter parker #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x artist!reader #harry styles x reader #steve harrington #hary holland x reader #harry styles fic

[you-did-well-moon]

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager. 

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt. 

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

 You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes. 

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close. 

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

 Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep. 

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise. 

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

 He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home. 

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager,  getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have. 

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap. 

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

 “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail. 

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while. 

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

 How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

 “I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine. 

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

 He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you. 

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again. 

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

 With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step. 

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest. 

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.  

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

#day6 reactions #day6 reaction #day6 fluff #day6 angst #day6 fanfic #day6 fanfiction #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #kpop reactions #day6 x reader #jae x reader #jae imagines #jae scenarios #sungjin x reader #sungjin imagines #sungjin scenarios #young k x reader #young k imagines #young k scenarios #younghyun x reader #younghyun imagines #wonpil x reader #wonpil scenarios #wonpil fluff #dowoon x reader #dowoon imagine #dowoon fluff #dowoon angst

[hauntedelation]

Repeat

Description - The Hammer proves to utilize surprising ways to settle down after a rough assignment.

Pairing - Black Male Reader x August Walker

A/N - This is my first male reader insert and AW fic! I wasn't sure how I should write the man but I found my August to be a little unpredictable, maybe hard. (Maybe he has some feelings, but he won't tell you what kind.)

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - descriptions of blood, wound tending and cleaning, anxiety, surprise fluff and maybe pining? Just partners being partners.

(no real proofreading this time y'all sorry 😅)

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

What he applied to your hand forced a pitiful sound from your body, something like a whimper subdued poorly by you.

By the sickly fluorescent light you can see it, the split that was the palm of your hand. Crimson upon crimson flooded the tissue, renewing again. 

Your insides overturned, and for the first time in your career you averted your eyes. You had to. For a reason you couldn't place your finger on, you knew you shouldn't stare. 

The way your pulse was working more warm liquid out of your hand, his fingers stained and slipping back and forth to tend, you felt unsteady. 

The spaces in your mind were gradually being occupied. So there was no shortage, no problem taking your mind off of it. 

You went back to that first mistake, back to where you foolishly under-packed. This assignment was far, but a swift turnaround. Accordingly, you thought it good to keep the amount of bags you carried to a minimum. 

A good number of things were left, a tool here and there that didn't stand out. You had done it before. One notch carved into the wood and you were null of any mistakes up until this point. 

What you couldn't grasp was that these absent devices were the key to this assignment. It hit like a ton of bricks the moment you were met with the complex screen of a security lock. 

You were deflated when your eyes met the empty space of what could have been the bypass key. There you spent upwards of an hour working through the perimeter of the place.

The next one could have happened regardless, but it didn't make you feel less inept. 

Where you went right when you should have gone left. The opponent you met was just as trained as you were: blank, unrelenting and practiced with a blade. You fell to a place where you were at a strident disadvantage. 

Would you have picked your jugular or your hand? There had to have been something better, a third choice? You should have been faster than that.

You could have.

Still, your hand caught the edge and it wasn't until much later, long after you were walking away that you could feel heat trickling down your fingers.

It's like the movies until it isn't. You've got yourself thrumming, high from the situation. You're locked in and can take anything to your vessel, then you're coming down slow. All the little details enter your mind, focusing and you notice. He noticed, actually.

With the most austere set of eyes you had ever seen, he did. 

Before you were given the chance to sit down he was standing over you, breath hot and charged from the brawl. On the top of your head you could feel it. The fabric of his suit was torn and twisted over his chest, rising and falling with his loosened tie.

He'd backed you to one of the steel tables, squinting through the dim and the dark. You had in mind that you were to be spit in the face, condemned for dragging the job to left-field. The glower had already been there.

You were bracing for it, balling both of your hands. The blunt object in your fingers collided with the brick floor. And it rang out, filling the empty spaces with a loud echo. Soon there was nothing. 

That's how it was seconds after.

A pair of boots brushed against yours before there was a hand capturing your right arm. He'd brought your dripping palm up and opened your curled fingers. Your wound was inspected with cautious eyes, the extent picked apart.

His calluses dragged around the edges of your sticky palm. You sucked in a breath when he had gone a little too close, but he ignored it. There was a drilling leer into your face before he spoke, "You were sloppy." 

The back of your throat had grown bone dry. You took a second, swallowing then pulling your eyes from his hardened face. 

That had been the first time that you'd been told that. Knowing in the very depths of you that this was the beginning to many months of second guessing, wishing you could have done better. 

You don't know why you had let this one go. Everything seemed feasible in the documents, from the time requirement to the objectives. You expected to have gone above and beyond.

That is close to what you told Sloane all those weeks ago,

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

"This one looks like it's going to be less of an issue."

She had her arms crossed in her crisp sleeves, her hip propped against the hardwood of her desk. You were called in to provide an updated report over your assignment, your feelings and projection.

It had gone to the point where you could no longer count on your fingers how many jobs you'd been on. The second anniversary from your first day recently passed, the bouquet still sitting on your dining room table.

You recall being introduced to your boss, the gratification in seeing someone like her in such an esteemed position.

(Someone who reminded you of your mother at times.)

Right then, the woman appeared to be getting ready to give a critical reply. Her brow was curled sharply but you could see the corners of her lips begin to upturn. 

"You have been assigned an associate with this task, agent."

This was of no particular issue. It was not every mission that you collaborated with another. Be that as it may, you've grown accustomed to this practice, it evolved into something that you improved with. This was your dream, and you intended to flourish.

You were sure there was no one you wouldn't be able to work with. 

When your superior uttered the name, 'Walker,' you had asked her to come again. 

"You're up and coming, still figuring things out in this line of work. I'm placing you with my best on this one," Sloane announced.

You withheld any signs of protest in front of her, flashing professional countenance and a nod. She dismissed you with a lingering gaze, most likely holding the same thing in her mind as you were. You kept up the front until you were situated at the chair by your desk. 

Upon your back touching the seat, a sigh was released, one that you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

You wanted to smile at how comical his name sounded. One would have thought you were speaking about an exotic dancer, The Hammer. You didn't think it fit at first. 

He's just a man, but he is the kind that exceeded the weight behind his title. He had discharged far more in his profession by the time you were approaching yours, taking the limits of what an agent could do to the stratosphere.

You could wax poetic about those stories, try to recount those details. But, truthfully there had been such a divide in your experience when compared to his. You could feel the pricks of uncertainty in your chest.

Perhaps you were only afraid.

He'd never once acknowledged your existence until you met on the tarmac the following Tuesday morning. The moon was leaving the twilight sky. Under an orange colored light, shining on the side of his face you could see him check his watch.

And then those eyes flicked over to you, sizing up your bags, your clothes. You think you may have even caught those blue slits drag along certain parts of you.

Your voice was weak, coughing low in your throat you tried to press out, "It's nice to finally meet, Mr. Walker."

(Ah, Mr Walker? You wanted to flinch, but you found no time.)

Then you provided him your name with a reluctant hand. It took far more composure on not showing the tremor in your limb but when the man peered down at you, securing your hand with a firm shake you knew. 

He'd felt how clammy your skin was. 

That mustache made a microscopic twitch, "Call me August, and, ditto."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

You allowed your hand to remain elevated, but your period of self-loathing was eventually disturbed. 

The sensation of his large hands appeared, firm and wrapping around your waist before hoisting you on the surface of the steel table. There was a soft thud from your good hand landing to bear your shift in weight.

It was then that you froze, ears pricking to that steady footfall departing from the table.

You listen and—what?

What crosses your mind is maybe you hit your head back there, sometime during taking that grunt to the floor. Yet, you don't feel anything, no pounding in your skull. The musing is washed away the moment the flicker of a pale-green light shines above.

The room is revealed to have been an abandoned kitchen of sorts. Pots and pans layered in a thin veil of dust with more grime to compliment. With your good hand you wipe at the sweat falling down your temple, you'd become a little hot. 

Glass crumbles underneath his boots, he rotates his back around to you with a small kit that strongly resembles the one you stored in your bag. 

The white plastic had your name scrawled on there in your handwriting. While you could sit there wondering how August retrieved that, you are still processing the way the man picked you up. How he brought you up like you were made of feathers. Why he…

He comes in real close, your vision floods with a view of his chest, his gloved hands shedding away the garment and laying them on the metal surface.

The soft click of the first aid box click echoes out, and under the hum of the lights above August murmurs down to you, 

"At least you had enough sense to pack this."

His tone is the same, puncturing only not quite as breathy. The rise and fall of his chest had slowed far more, the dark curls on his chest soaking in the sweat running down his skin. And you blink, not realizing how enthralling the sight is.

Your pulsing hand is taken again, gingerly, by a pair of rough hands. You brace yourself on the edge of the table upon seeing the clear liquid bottle.

He's cleaning your wound throughly and you're trying not to take it like a kicked puppy. Through grit teeth, "You think I could skip stitches this time?" They never were your favorite.

"No dice," he breaths out, placing the bottle of alcohol down next to your thigh.

"You about had your hand sliced in half, Agent. You're lucky anyway. But,"

The needle and thread is pulled out, more cleansing and draining. Rinse and repeat. Walker was moving quickly, probably sensing the adrenaline in you draining by the minute.

Your communication devices buzz in unison, you don't have time to check your screen for any updates before he reaches with one hand in his pocket to retrieve his.

He sets your hand down on your own thigh and you listen to his voice shift to a formal tone. The female voice on the other line, (Sloane most likely) sounds curt and questioning. 

Your stomach begins to roll in circles. Your fingers wrapped around the table's edge tighten around the metal, almost enough to leave marks.

Through those training sessions all those months, you learned to properly squash any threats of anxiety, distraction. You could feel yourself slipping, your body seizing up in front of the man. Walker seemed to have been approaching the height of his conversation with your boss, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and shoulder. 

In the meantime, you were breathing. That familiar rhythm, flowing in and out, counting. You fall into the headspace that you became acquainted with all too well. 

You lost yourself in it, not realizing that Walker was dissolving Sloane's interrogation. Every syllable. The way in which his voice formed the words was unknowingly steadying your brain, calming your heart rate down slowly. 

All the while taking your wounded hand was taken in his, he set about cleaning it one more time before starting to close it with the thread. 

"Yes ma'am. No, he had everything in his detail under control...Yes. That's correct. The only slip up had been breaching the security wall but we successfully infiltrated."

You could feel the sharp pricks in your skin, your arm tensing after each pull to the string when closing the wound. Eventually Walker drifted, and your eyes landed on the semi-clean criss cross stitching in the palm of your hand. 

The man's eyes were dead set on his handiwork, narrowing on the lines before clearing his throat to part ways with your boss. There was a, "We will report back upon leaving this location."

He hung up the phone, and slid the device next to your thigh. You didn't think anything of it, only Walker's hand didn't leave where his phone was sitting. And you were encircled, the fabric of his shirt practically enticing his body closer to yours.

It had been a number of seconds before you could bring yourself back. The same exercise was reaching its tail end, and maybe, just maybe you could believe Sloane would not chew you a new one when you return.

Those words, It's okay, you tried your best. Everyone has bad days. You said them once again, inaudible and only in your mind. The room at this point only held the echo of the cars outside, Walker's heavy boots shifting before—

His fingertips were cold against your jaw, you almost jumped away from him. You should have, what was he doing? His thigh brushed so light against your knee, and when he guided your eyes up, you saw him already peering at your damp face.

Everything about the man's face was blank. Thick brows, lips hidden under a bushy trail of hair, all set in a firm line. You made no attempt to divert, you weren't sure he would let you. You had been planted there, decided by him your next move would be included.

Then those words fell silent. 

His fingertips pushed up your jaw, against the grain of your facial hair growing there. Then you felt him cup your cheek, strong hands dragging along your skin. 

Walker used his thumb to brush against your temple, wiping away something sticky. Red tint coated the little grooves in his skin and he pulled away, wiping his digit on the material of your pants. His tone was far more entertained then,

"Looks like you hit your head back there."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

Taglist - @mansaaay @hope-to-hell @feralrunaway @thetaoofzoe @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed @brandycranby @emyearns

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

#August Walker x Reader #Male reader #Black reader #henry cavill x reader #Henry Cavill fluff #Repeat #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black!reader

[aineryeo]

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

“...”

Your arm was about to die. 

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you. 

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.” 

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked. 

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you. 

He hid your face into his chest instead.  You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.  

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.” 

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.” 

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?” 

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

#miya osamu #Miya #Osamu #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!! #Inarizaki #miya atsumu #Atsumu #Osamu x Reader #Osamu x you #suna rintarou #Slow burn #Angst

[obeiii-mee]

Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡

Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.

Hope this was OK.

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:

Lucifer:

-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all

-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work

-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you

-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it

-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him

-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell

-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy

-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much

-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then

-His mind just drew a blank

-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that

-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries

-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear

-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest

-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed

-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried

-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way

-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh

-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves

-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)

Mammon:

-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money

-You’d both be done for if he did

-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped

-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything

-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out

-He screeched his lungs out

-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor

-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”

-It was very dramatic, he cried

-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough

-OK, that helped him calm down a little

-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death

-Fuck the casino, you were going home

-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself

-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned

-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt

-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today

-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)

-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine

-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week

Levi:

-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”

-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS

-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little

-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t

-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it

-But you guys still went home after that

-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere

-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home

-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that

-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries

-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went

-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that

-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it

-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”

Satan:

-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?

-Actually, it was Satan’s idea

-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times

-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)

-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg

-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra

-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place

-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties

-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?

-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you

-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical

-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much

Asmo:

-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?

-Take a look at this fucking guy

-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)

-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers

-He’s actually on the verge of crying

-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined

-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day

-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”

-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“

-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck

-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home

-And then he ushered you into his room

-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still

-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him

-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place

-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is

Beel:

-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen

-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him

-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something

-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering

-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say

-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete

-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap

-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand

-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain

-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry

-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something

-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?

-Comfort hugs afterwards!

-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)

Belphie:

-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD

-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you

-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants

-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away

-You were a bit pissed off because rude

-But Belphie was fucking fuming

-He felt so offended on your part

-I mean, the nerve of him

-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it

-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down

-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell

-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor

-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class

-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck

-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face

-No talk to him

-He angy

-“Does your knee still hurt?”

-“A bit but it’s not-“

-“Come nap with me.”

-“Why?”

-“Naps shall cure your pain.”

-“...”

-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”

-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall

-Before walking away as if nothing happened

-I stan protective Belphie

These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🌸 comfort #💞 Protective Bois

[songbirdsingingthings]

This request (if it's still an option) might be a little odd and will admittedly stay more feminine, but if i may?

Might i request a small shoto x reader story where the reader is a practicing witch? It's something i personally am into and i think it would be fun to read. Imagine shoto learning about spell candles, crystals charging positive energy, tarot cards, that stuff, because the person he likes uses them a lot.

It might be a touch vague, plot wise, but from west I've read it's sure to be something you can make amazing. Thank you very much. (Anonymous because this is my first time ever requesting something like this and I'm way to shy about it.)

Intuition - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Fluff, Swearing (It’s Bakugou, so, that’s kinda a given)

Requested by Anonymous:

A/N: Hi!!! I am so sorry that this took me freaking AGES to write. In between trying to research and find reputable sources to learn from about what you requested and dealing with school stuff (honestly, my teachers just think that all of my free time should be filled with school work smh) I finally FINALLY finished! I really hope you enjoyed, and I really found it interesting learning about all these things! <3

Word Count: 1.5K

“Y/N, may I ask you a question?” Shouto’s smooth voice cut through to your senses, rousing you from the book you currently had your nose in. Sitting just inches away from you was the red-and-white haired boy, the textbook he had been consulting now bookmarked and set next to him. With a raise of your eyebrow in curiosity, you marked your page and nodded.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, leaning a bit closer to him. Shouto, being your boyfriend for now 2 months and comfortable with touch, wrapped a light arm around your waist.

“I was just curious about your choice of decor for your dorm, it’s quite unique.” A knowing smile graced your lips as your gaze left his handsome face and flitted around your dorm. On top of shelves, all over your desk, and even on the balcony windowsill you had, crystals and candles dotted the room. A smile graced your lips as you saw Shouto’s eyes on the various beloved items.

“I guess you can say it’s unique,” You start to say, standing from your spot on the floor and going over to your desk and taking your favorite crystal into your hand. It was a simple clear quartz cluster but it’s been with you the longest. You motion for Shouto to stand up next to you so he could see it more clearly. “This one is a clear quartz,” you explain as he bends down so that his eyes are eye-level with the crystal.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze transfixed on the quartz. With a laugh, you carefully place it back down on your desk.

“Well, it’s not all just a pretty face. It’s actually charged with a lot of healing energy, so it’s provided some real tranquility in my life.” Shouto’s eyes narrow in confusion, looking back up to yours.

“You’re not telling me that this crystal has a quirk, do you?” He asks, genuinely perplexed. With a bark of laughter, you shake your head.

“No, no, it doesn’t have a quirk. I’ve just been charging the crystal myself.” Still sensing some bewilderment from your boyfriend, you grab a few different items - the quartz, a spell candle from your windowsill, and a pack of tarot cards from your desk - and lead him over to your bed to sit down. “A lot of the things I have in my room have a more… spiritual side to them. Basically with things like crystals, I charge them with positive energies. I do this by cleansing them and then emanating positive thoughts, intentions, or words to the crystals themselves.” Shouto nods, seemingly understanding that concept.

“Are the candles and cards similar?” He wonders. 

“Well, they’re all similar in the way that they’re part of witchcraft. People who are practicing witches usually have some, if not all, of these things and probably a lot more. I’m kind of in the low-key part of witchcraft since I don’t really cast spells or am part of a coven or anything, but I really enjoy it.” You gush, causing Shouto’s cheeks to heat up a bit. He’s always loved seeing you so passionate about things whether it be in classes or during hero training, but your passion here was on a whole other level.

“Interesting,” he says, “so what purpose do the candles serve?” His interested tone causes a giddy smile to flicker across your face, sending you into ‘explanation mode’.

“The candles are actually pretty cool. Like the crystals, it’s recommended that you cleanse and charge them in order for them to work. I usually buy these from that crystal store on mainstreet, and this one is one of my favorites! It’s actually one for my zodiac sign,” you tell him, holding the glass holder up in front of him so that he could read the label. 

“And the cards?” He asks, leaning over to view the pack of cards.

“Oh! Those are tarot cards.” “I’m assuming they are pretty different from regular cards?” He asks, a little smirk on his face.

“You would be right in assuming that, yes,” you say, giggling while sliding the deck out of its container. You give the deck a few shuffles. “They can help to gain insight on peoples’ futures by drawing cards that represent your past, present, and your future.” Shouto’s eyes widened.

“They can tell your future?” He exclaims, a little wary but also excited about the prospect of it.

“Yeah, you want me to give you a reading?” 

“Yes!” Shouto says quickly. Your heart warms at his enthusiasm as you let your shuffling come to a stop. Spreading the cards out in your hand, you hold them face down in front of your boyfriend.

“Okay, pick three.” You say simply, yet Shouto still hesitates.

“Is there a strategy for picking them?” He asks.

“Just go on your intuition. Pick what your heart tells you to.” You murmur. Shouto nods slowly and lets his fingers hover over the cards. He lets his fingers dangle for only a minute before picking his three cards and setting them on your bed covers. With a satisfied smile, you straighten up the rest of the cards, set them aside, and turn your attention to the three he picked. You turn them over one by one. His first card, representing his past, is The Tower. The second card, representing his present, is the Death card. And finally, representing his future, he picked the The World card. As Shouto’s eyes rake over his cards, they settle and widen comically at the middle card.

“Uh, oh no, Y/N I picked death.” He said, his breathing becoming a little shallow at his sudden spurt of panic.

“That’s okay Sho, just let me give you your reading, yeah?” You soothe, urging him to calm down. With a hesitant nod, he settles down a bit. “Okay! So for your first card, you chose The Tower. Now this card represents sudden upheaval, broken pride, and disaster. Think back to your past whether it be just yesterday or years beforehand. I know you had a tough childhood and growing up was never easy for you,” you say, trying to empathize with Shouto. He nods acceptingly, having already acknowledged his past.

“Yes, this card makes sense.” He simply says. Your gaze focuses next on the middle card - Death.

“I know this card can look a little scary, but I promise it’s not.” You say, trying to gently ease Shouto into the idea that his current present is represented by death. “The Death card represents the end of a cycle, new beginnings, and metamorphosis. Think and turn your consciousness to your thoughts right now. Think about how much you have changed from your past, and find solace in the end of that cycle and the beginning of a new one.” Shouto closes his eyes and unconsciously begins to smile, causing your own to shine brighter.

“That is a comforting thought. I never thought I could find relief from a card that says death on it.” He remarks, opening his eyes back up to yours. You could tell he was eager to hear about his last card - his future.

“And your final card is The World. I’m not being biased or anything, I promise you I’m not, but this is one of my favorite cards.” You admit, earning a sparkle to show in your boyfriend's eyes. “The World card represents fulfillment, harmony, and completion. Try and imagine your future. This completion and fulfillment could come in the form of many things whether it be your career, your friendships-”

“A romantic relationship?” He asks, his cheeks now burning with red. You feel yourself begin to fluster and the silly smile across your face causes you to look at your hands.

“Yes, this card could potentially apply to a romantic relationship.” You murmur softly. You busy yourself with cleaning up the cards and putting them back in their container, still flushed with the thought of Shouto hoping for harmony within your relationship. However, your thoughts are put to a halt when Shouto has a soft hand beneath your chin, gently angling your head so that your eyes meet his.

“I like the thought of a fulfilling relationship with you.” He confesses, his doe eyes causing you to melt.

“I, uh, Shouto the card might not be referring to that though.” You stammer, your eyes flicking in between his and his lips.

“You said that I should go on intuition beforehand, yes?” He asks, wanting you to confirm. When you nod your head, his smile turns into a smirk. “Well then my intuition tells me that the card is referring to us.” And in one fluid motion, his lips are on yours. Like always, they’re soft, slow, and sensual… and you can never get enough of them. With one hand going up to play with his hair and the other one wrapping around his neck, you press yourself closer to him as he kisses you more feverishly. 

“Thanks for my reading,” he says breathlessly, each word in between kisses. You yourself are breathless as well, sinking into his embrace like puddy.

“Anytime.”

#shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #Shouto #Shoto #bnha shouto #shouto x #shouto x reader #mha shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #shoto x #shoto x reader #bnha shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x you #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader fluff #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #shouto fanfic #shouto fluff #shouto fanfiction #shouto fic #shoto fanfiction #shoto fic

[crossxroads]

Blog Info

Howdy, this is a side blog for Madness Combat. I'll be posting doodles, comics, and other stuff related to MadCom here. I follow from @archaicnightfall.

Quick Links

Masterlist Writing Info

About the Author/Blog Owner

I go by Arc, so feel free to call me that. Though, you can also call me Cross, in relation to this sideblog's title. I'm a multi-media artist who also does writing on the side. I'm twenty-two years old.

Blog Content

As stated above, I will be drawing MadCom related fanart and Madcom OC content and posting them here. I may also reblog stuff as well, you can tell from the [o] on the tags.

My ask box is open, and while I have no imagines/headcanons posted, I don't mind anyone suggesting things to write or do a quick doodle.

Let it be known: I am working and in college, so the Tumblr side of things won't always be a high priority for me. My busiest days are M-F and Saturday. My Timezone is PST/(GMT-7:00)

OC Info under Read-More!

The Blog's (Main) OCs

Green "Gree" Plus

-Owner of "Crossroads", a special shop where you can trade items and information for materials.

Crossroads runs by "Equivalent Exchange", meaning that no matter what you trade, what you receive will be of equal value.

Has contracts available for archival purposes, and a "wall of shame" for those who have broken said contracts/NDAs.

People who frequent the shop can also go by pseudonyms to avoid identity leaks. IE: Deimos goes by "Mars", Sanford goes by "Visser", and Hank as "Merc123".

-They/Them, Nonbinary. Also goes by he/him for convenience.

-Shorter than Deimos, Despite their small stature, they still pack a mean punch. Do not underestimate.

-Trust-worthy and honest. Doesn't like hurting people, but will kill to keep secrets if pushed to that point.

-Has a distant connection to Project Nexus, but doesn't like to remember/talk about it.

-Noted to make strange, mechanical sounds when they move.

-"Greenblood" Grunt Clone

Like the name suggests, Gree bleeds green instead of a grunt's red, or the ATP yellow.

The oldest out of 280, is from Batch 1. Therefore, Gree has 279 siblings scattered around Nevada taking up various non-combatant jobs.

Gree's siblings Louko (MAGnified Greenblood), Tacna, Arsev, Denna, and Mattev do delivery for Crossroads.

MAG Agent: Lithe

-Not actually a MAG agent, but a really unfortunate human who somehow ended up in Nevada. Humans "Magnified" on Default in my head if they were to show up in Madness Combat.

-Full name is Kaito Ciel Amano.

-He/Him, though the AAHW calls him by It/Its. Masc NB.

-Because of MAG agents typically having a low INT stat (3), Lithe is believed to have an INT stat of 5. It's actually 9, like Hank.

-Plant Dad. Actually, just has dad energies in general.

Has a habit of carrying around grunts, agents, and soldats around like toddlers or pups.

Runs warmer naturally than nevadeans and grunts. Described as "very soft, squishy."

-A scientist specializing in horticulture, hydroponics, and aquaponics. Part of a team called "Division 16", which is comprised of a group of co-workers and friends from junior high.

Low-key sucks at math, hence why he's in the biological field as opposed to an engineering field.

-Taller than the MAG agents. He often slides under doors to enter other rooms.

-Lithe's appearance makes Jebus really nervous—for some reason.

-Likes to do a lot of menial labor. Cooking, cleaning—Lifting up heavy objects, etc. Not a big fan of violence in general.

#[o] blog meta #[o] meta post #[o] blog info

[rockium-z]

I ask you all questions, you are free to ignore any you wish :>

if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Entity NEO is an Undertale fancomic that I definitely like a normal amount… (/j)

seriously tho this damned comic lives in my brain rent-free and unless I knock my head too hard on something and lose my memory of the entire last two years, I don’t think I’ll move on from this any time soon.

if I may derail this ask for a bit? the angst is so fucking good. the story starts out like yeah, half of everyone is dead, and the main character’s left with so much emotional baggage and regret to deal with in the aftermath, but by luck they do manage to find other people who care about them and care for them. and yeah, it doesn’t automatically solve everything with the Power of Friendship, iirc there’s a friendship that doesn’t even become an official friendship until chapter 18, and before then the main character kinda implodes twice over their feelings regarding their estranged, late cousin, and the discoveries they made about him in the meantime, and some other shit does hit the fan — but it’s the people who care about them who ultimately help them out of implosion number 2, and it’s likely because of those who care about them that drives the main character to heal and take small steps out of their corner of stewing in their own memories and guilt and move on with their life. and it’s tough. the pain and grief of losing someone you love, losing that fond image of them as well as losing your old way of living still really sucks, and somehow it just feels…authentic, in a sense. but there’s lighthearted moments too that stand out against the sadness and strike a nice balance, and especially in some of the later chapters there’s just the characters living their lives despite the shit they’ve been through. and it’s just — the comic takes a ragtag couple of characters who I didn’t know in canon beyond sad ghost, nerdy lizard with a lot of complexity going on, fabulous robot with a lot of complexity going on and sans undertale, and gives them depth and explores some really interesting themes and actually makes me like them a whole lot and root for them. I hope Napstablook gets a hug someday I am so excited to see where the story goes next you will not believe, the second I see that little notif for it I will drop everything to find out what happens to these characters. I love this fancomic so much.

Okay I swear I have other interests you can get to know me by, that one up there’s just the one I have Many Thoughts about — anyways Kirby is honestly the shit. Forgotten Land looks so fucking good and honestly the dark lore and the music of especially the later games is just *chef’s kiss*. there’s also Omori, which. uh. made me cry very very hard, and the music is also really goddamn fun and emotional and the themes of friendship and guilt are wonderful, and yeah Undertale and Deltarune are great games.

list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

Kirby: Honestly, I’ve always low-key wanted to be a friend to others like how Kirby is. They’re shaped like a friend and I’d kinda like to be that way, too.

Undertale: Chara’s a kid who loves their adoptive family and fucked up a bit trying to help them, and I kinda vibe with that.

Deltarune: Kris and Susie have awesome vibes and I love them both.

Touhou: Reimu just kinda chilling in her downtime is something I highkey relate to haha

Omori: Hmm tough one! I’d say Mari because honestly she’s one of my favorite characters, but I also do relate with Aubrey and her feeling of the world moving on without acknowledging past pain a lot.

do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

My real name is…well it’s alright, I guess. I’m used to it. I think there might be a name that vibes with me better, but it’s not quite my screename, so no I haven’t found one yet.

do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do?

Hmm. Probably more a human doing, tbh, and the things I do definitely make up a large part of who I am.

describe your ideal day.

Tough one, but I think my best days nowadays are when I get some substantial writing or art thing done + something that I’ve been waiting for happens, bonus if I go outside and chill a while.

are you an artist?

Yep! Don’t post here much, though.

dog person or cat person?

Both. Both is good.

inside or outdoors?

Inside mostly, but y’know when you go outside and find some sheltered area and just get to watch the rain fall? That’s the shit.

if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

I don’t think a different environment would’ve led to me discovering all the same things that I ended up doing, so likely no.

would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

Hmm. Tumblr me is a fandom-fixated little guy (gender neutral) who generally stays away from drama and is just here in her own little corner for a good time, so it’s got some things right. Though “fair representation of the real you” might be a bit of a stretch.

do you love easily?

Romantically? Definitely not.

Platonically? See how quickly I will give you a piece of my heart the second you enter my orbit.

how would you describe your gender/sexuality?

I’m pretty comfortable with being afab, though how I experience it is that it’s great, barring a few things I’d like tweaked — namely, I’d prefer to not have my tits (bras are uncomfy for long stretches), and I’d very much like a way to just not have periods at all ever again. I don’t vibe with overtly feminine things or typical girl activities like shopping or whatever makeup is, but dresses are flowy and cool.

Sexuality is pretty much just aro/ace, with a bit of a lean towards girls.

on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

Assuming 1 is incredibly difficult and 10 is extremely easy, I’d rate myself around 4 — I try to be incredibly patient in general, though if disturbed one too many times I tend to make myself scarce and nope outta the way.

pick one of your favorite quotes.

And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.

— an excerpt from Cherry, by Mary Karr

or this one:

If you promise to stay alive just a little bit longer I promise that we are going to make this world a place worth living in by any means necessary. I ain’t giving up. I swear.

— from this post

[asscreeds]

Heila - Chapter 4

thank you again to @freyastrider​ for letting me yoink your screenshots :’D

TW for graphic descriptions of violence & death. Read on AO3 | Masterlist

The cool midday wind blew from the North, hastening the journey by longship, and Eivor thanked the Gods for their favor today. Curled up at the Wolf's feet, Nali hissed at Dag almost comically when he had boarded, scarcely recognizing the man, making Eivor chuckle. Not even five minutes into the journey, Dag started up another one of his stories, and Eivor did not realize how much she had missed the man's silly tales until her crew burst out into laughter at something absurd he said, the Wolf-Kissed joining in heartily.

Four hours passed and they had just passed Roucistere. By then the sun had sunk further into the sky, sending its rays into everyone's eyes and turning the sky and eastern sea a beautiful gold. Were it any other day, Eivor would have found the scenery beautiful, yet even with Dag's stories and the lightheartedness of the journey as her and her vikingr were reunited on the ship once again, she could only think of the battle ahead and prayed that it would go smoothly. 

Thinking back to your sobbing form made her heart squeeze with some unknown emotion; she could not decide if it was pity or something else. The name 'Gunnar' stuck in her mind. Who was the man to you? Part of your clan, obviously, but what was he to you? A companion? Brother? Lover, maybe? Despite her trailing thoughts she surmised it was not for her to know and began chastising herself for even pondering. It was not important to her; what mattered was honoring her promise to you and seeing that he and the others were returned to you safely.

As they pulled into the docks, Eivor could see a few of her men that had been sent forward earlier in the day had already set up a small camp above the beach, higher on the hillside where the two-dozen horses could graze and rest. Jumping from the lypting of the ship to the dock she bid her vikingr follow her up the hill to the forward camp, the raiders most grateful for being able to stretch their legs after the journey. 

As they gathered about the campfire, she called for their attention. "From what the scouts have told, the Danes are being held to the southwest of the barracks, near the most open portion of the city. There is a northern gate near the barracks that leads to the heart of the city that we will rush through. If two or three could ride forward to fire arrows and slay the gate's guards, we will catch them off guard and ride forward with little problems. The issue lies in exiting the city once we have freed the Danes, as the northern gate will be undoubtedly crowded with the soldiers from the barracks. We may either leave by the most western yet farthest gate, or the closer eastern gate - it depends on how the guards will react. Whatever happens, stick together," she explained, and her vikingr nodded, some cheering. Before letting them mount the horses she added in one final thing: "Remember, these are people who have been scarcely fed for days and been treated as animals. There is a very low chance that they will be able to defend themselves if they are targeted - load them onto the backs of your horses, then ride as fast as you can. Do not engage in battle unless you must, if you are outnumbered or are blocked from pushing forward. If all goes well we will overwhelm them with the suddenness of our attack and we will be able to slip in and out with little issue."

Then she let them go, and they each mounted a horse, standing near the mouth of the road waiting for her to lead them. To her surprise she found her personal mount among the horses; Askr, the rowdy, black destrier stallion she had purchased from Rowan a few months ago, whom she had just recently bonded with enough to be able to ride him into the heart of battle. Patting his nose, she mumbled, "I pray to Thor that you will not suddenly turn your heart in the middle of this and buck me," and then took her seat in his rune-inscribed saddle. The horse only gave her a side-eye and snorted.

Walking Askr forward to the road, she raised her fist to the sky, looking at the vikingr. "To Canterbury!" she cried, and the resounding war cries of the warriors hastened their mounts forward into a comfortable gallop on the stone road. By now the sun had eased down into the horizon, and they would reach the city hopefully just in time for the gap in guard rotation as the day rota switched for the night. 

Even in the dim light of dusk Eivor could still see the steeples of the church rise into the sky as they rode over the hill, and then Eivor pulled them all to a slow trot. Much to her delight, they had just begun lighting torches for the night and even from a distance she could see only one lone guard at the northern gate. Looking over and nodding to an archer, she sent them forward to deal with him before they rushed in and the guard could call for help. "Light your torch near the gate once you have dealt with him." One Norseman would only puzzle him, instead of seeing an entire raiding party descending down the hill like a flood.

By now the last light of the sun had nearly gone, and the sky turned a deep indigo as the first stars began to shine and the slim crescent moon began to rise higher. For what was about to transpire, it was such an incredibly calm night; a gentle breeze, the soft chorus of crickets, the hooting of an owl nearby. As they crested over the hill in definite eyesight of any eagle-eyed guardsmen she saw the torch of the archer being waved around near the gate; their signal. Bidding Askr into a canter, she and her warriors rode forth to the gate, meeting with the archer that had remounted their horse. The breach was quiet, and though the thunder of the horses' steps were a dead giveaway, it seemed that scarcely anyone had noticed their arrival. Good.

 Things did not go so smoothly once they rounded the corner to the area where the Danes were kept. Almost instantly four or five guards jumped up with weapons drawn from where they had been conversing around a table, and Eivor could only give a smirk as she and a few others drew their bows back to release a volley of arrows upon the men, not missing a single mark. They quickly fell, and she rushed forward to the imprisoned Danes. Despite their cages being secured with a lock and her nor the guards having the key for them they bent and broke easily enough. Drawing out her torch and stepping forward into the cage she was met by sad, sunken eyes that should have never belonged to any human being. Slowly, she approached them.

"I have been sent by y/n to rescue you. We will help you to mount the horses, take you to our longship and to Ravensthorpe where you will be fed and bathed," she said quietly, and immediately some burst into tears, rejoicing, others staring ahead quietly afraid. In all there were only maybe a dozen of them, four women and eight men divided into separate cages, all as visibly ill as the next. She did not ask any of them for their names.

As the fifth Dane was paired to a horse, a patrol rounded the corner to the clearing, and Eivor felt the rush of adrenaline blanket her mind. They were met with swift swords to their shields almost instantaneously as her vikingr beat them back away from the Danes, and the shouting from the conflict seemed to wake the entire city. Another two Danes were paired, and suddenly the church's bells began to ring, splitting the calm air of the night in two. Shit.

Moving as fast as she could she lifted a large man with bright blue eyes to rival her own onto her shoulders, placing him on the back of her horse. The man groaned with the movement and in her torchlight she could see dried bloodstains about his torso; another sad victim. She bid him to wait, leading Askr a few paces away in a shadowed alleyway between buildings to hide, and then ran back to the others to continue to pair the ninth, tenth, and eleventh Dane.

By now many of the Saxon guardsmen knew what was happening and descended upon the warriors like fighting dogs, and though the Raven Clan had a mounted advantage they were beginning to be pushed back into the clearing. Some had already fled, beginning the ride back to the longship. Eivor prayed that they would not be followed. 

 Grabbing the final Dane was where things went sour. An arrow flew right into the eyesocket of a Danish woman, who fell limp in the saddle and shocked the warrior at the front with the sudden dead weight at their back. More heavily-armored guards rushed in from the barracks and were poking and slashing at the horses chests, spooking them; little by little they were losing ground and precious time. The last prisoner secured, and with a final push from the guards, Eivor mounted Askr and commanded her warriors to follow her and run. They galloped higher into the city, heading towards the eastern gate with hopes of escaping cleanly - unfortunately, these guards were intelligent and had swarmed not only the east gate, but all other exits, too. They were penned in. 

Eivor could not see any other solution. Pushing Askr into a hard gallop she rode forward as archers stationed in the barbican above the gate released their arrows and the Wolf-Kissed had raised her shield just in time to prevent them from piercing her and the man's flesh. Some others were not so lucky nor swift enough. Three more Danes were struck by arrows. In the pause of archers knocking arrows again her vikingr rushed behind her, yet this time the arrows were set aflame. The portcullis was still open, thankfully, though beset by a formidable wall of soldiers.

They would fall and be trampled just as any other.

Galloping forward in the final stretch Askr's chest connected with the unfortunate men in the path of destruction, hooves pounding on their bones as if wading through water. What a good horse. Thankfully, he was never wounded by the effort. Taken aback by the feat most archers did not fly their arrows a second time, and those that did scarcely hit their target. Nobody was injured that time. The other horses followed close behind and soon there was a pretty pile of corpses lying near the mouth of the portcullis like a disgusting blanket.

Exiting the city and breaching the cold night of Cent made Eivor release a breath she did not know she was holding, the shock of adrenaline still hitting her hard. She definitely was not going to do that again any time soon. Glancing behind her to check they were not followed, she opted to take the quickest route to the longship; regardless if someone came after them they would still board the ship as quickly as they could. 

 She decided to try and talk to the man on her horse, just as she'd done to you. "What is your name?"

The man stirred slowly, as if he did not recognize that he was being talked to. He could not focus on much past the way his body felt as if it were being carried forward by a valkyrie, mounted on her horse and riding towards Valhalla. "G-Gunnar," he croaked, and Eivor nearly choked on the cool night air. Ah.

Looking behind her at the state of the man, she realized he was in a far worse state than you were when she'd rescued you. His eyes were clouded, unfocused, dried blood seeped down from a wound at the center of his forehead; he was weak, with the way he barely clung onto the Wolf-Kissed's smaller frame despite being heads taller than her. There were the dried blood stains at his middle, too, and she could not guess where those wounds came from.

She prayed to all the Gods she could think of, even those that she did not revere, that he would stay alive long enough to make it to Ravensthorpe.

"Alright, Gunnar. I am Eivor. We're taking you and your clan to a safer place." The ride to the ship felt much longer than riding from it, despite being the same route.

Gunnar would seemingly gain awareness some moments, holding tighter to Eivor's waist and groaning in pain, and then completely lose it at others, falling limp at her back and scaring her each time thinking that the man had passed.

Only one time did he address her. "Y/n sent you…?"

"Yes, she did," Eivor said, and the beach and her longship were in her sight. Nobody was followed. Five of her raiders and their paired Danes had already boarded the ship, keeping it still to the harbor even in the night's high tide.

Gunnar let out a breathy wheezing sound. "Ah, she's alive…" he said, and Eivor could hear the smile in his voice despite everything. "Alive…"

Slowing Askr down to a trot they approached the longship, the tide rising to the point where the horses were lifting their legs in the water. There were still more of her clan stationed at the forward camp; they would return the horses to Ravensthorpe after they departed. Dismounting the horse, she grabbed Gunnar by the waist, laying the large man over her shoulders and carrying him to the ship. He could not find the strength to sit up on the seats. Eivor slowly lowered him against the side of the ship, propping him up. 

Taking a headcount, every single one of her drengr survived; out of the dozen Danes they rescued, five would not live. 

Jumping to the lypting again she commanded the ship be turned round and the sail raised. The sea's wind roared, boosting the speed of their getaway, though it would not hold over the river Thames as they passed Roucistere. The night's calm northern breeze did little to bend the cloth of the sails, so it was lowered. 

 At some point, Gunnar roused again. Nali had curled at his bloodied side and was purring furiously, and the man gently petted the cat, in another spell of awareness. "Hello, little friend of Freyja," he spoke, spooking Eivor.

"You are awake, Gunnar. Are you feeling better after a bit of rest?" Eivor asked, grasping at anything to keep the hope of this man reaching Ravensthorpe alive.

"No," came his simple answer, looking up towards Eivor. Blood began oozing from the corners of his mouth and his nose. Immediately Eivor rushed to his side, and all her warriors turned their heads, and upon seeing why the Wolf-Kissed acted so suddenly, they understood. 

Gunnar could only look to Eivor still with an unreadable expression. Taking a cloth from her pouch she began wiping away at the blood, though it continued to run and run, and then Gunnar smiled at the Wolf-Kissed's efforts. In the calmness of the moonlight and Gunnar's awareness she realized how bright his eyes were and how they crinkled at the corners when they were not clouded with pain. Grabbing her hand, he willed her to stop.

"It is no use. I am a dying man," he said, and then let out a great, wheezing cough to drive the point home. Blood still ran from his mouth, down the scraggly hairs of his beard, onto the front of his tunic. Eivor stared, wide-eyed, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she stared at the fading man. 

"...What would be your last wishes, drengr?" she asked, and Gunnar picked Nali up from his side and set her down farther away, and though Nali only weighed not even a stone it was a great effort for the man, who then fell limp after. 

Gunnar seemed to pause, taking in wheezing breaths, thinking of the many answers he could give. Avenge my clan. Slay Frederik. Send word to my wife and daughter in Denmark of my death. Above all he chose one.

"Keep y/n safe," he rasped, suddenly reaching for Eivor's hand and holding it firm. "Keep her safe. Keep this clan safe. There is nothing else left of us.

"I have known her since we were children. Like a brother. I have cared for her as I have cared for my own blood. She is the voice of reason that kept us all bound together in times of strife. I could not protect her when I swore I would. I have known I would die this way for months, yet I did all I could to fight against it. For her. Please, keep her safe. In this world, and the next," he said, and his cryptic words both puzzled and troubled Eivor.

Eivor nodded, and squeezed the man's hand. "I heed your dying words. I will protect her to the ends of the earth."

Slowly, like the moon's face dwindling away as the sun rose each morning, he faded, the light in his eyes dying with him, and he went with a calm exhale into the night air. Eivor set his hand upon his lap and closed his eyelids. He would be given a proper burial, though where, she did not know. It was for you to decide.

The rest of the journey was in silence.

...

You had spent the better part of the day anxious, uneasy, unable to rest like Valka had wanted you to. To keep your mind distracted she asked you of your homeland, to which you gave mostly simple answers, and eventually you grew so anxious you had to pace. Scarcely moving around for days except to relieve yourself made your body shriek in pain with the effort of moving that you would have collapsed if Valka had not caught you. She scolded you like a mother would a child, and then you'd begged her like a child (much to her amusement) for her to help you relearn to walk.

After an hour and some more food and drink you were able to hold your own weight again, and after two more you could walk, albeit slowly, without the strain of the sliced muscles in your back bothering you too much. Valka took you to the pond behind her hut, and you revelled in the sound of the waterfall, and though the movement pained you enough to cry you could not stop yourself from cupping the fresh water in your hands and splashing it in your face. Valka laughed and said she could draw you a bath later. You stayed there for a while, until the sun began to hang lower in the sky, and then you noticed peculiar wisps of light that you've never seen before - catching one you found it was some type of delightful insect that held light within its body, and you let it be free again.

By now your stomach growled with hunger and you slowly raised yourself off the ground and went back into the hut where Valka had already gotten the two of you fresh bowls of soup and bread. Ever grateful you ate quickly, feeling a little calmer after the day. After you ate Valka drew a bath for you, and though the water was lukewarm to ease the pain of your injuries you were grateful to be able to clean the layers of sweat off your body. Valka helped you with the areas that you could not reach, even helping to wash and rinse your hair, and not once did you feel uncomfortable with your nakedness in front of the other woman. It felt natural, in a way, and you surmised she wouldn't really care, anyway. After redressing your wounds, you were surprised by her giving you a freshly-washed, simple chemise, made of soft linen and about ankle length, saying that "It would be easier on your body to sleep warmer, yet not be inhibited by heavier clothing," referring to the men's trousers and tunic you had been dressed in as a prisoner.

Then Valka made you more of the sleepy tea, and you fell asleep before the sun had even set. Thankfully you did not have a nightmare this time, and were back to the normal nonsensical dreams that you would never be able to recall come waking up.

Your sleep, however, was disturbed by the sound of a horn being blown, your mind instantly connecting the sound to Frederik’s horn, and you were sent into a minor panic before you remembered who was blowing the horn. It was not Frederik coming to face you, nor were you back on his longship heading to the monastery; it was Eivor, bringing the remnants of your clan to you. Adrenaline fueled you and you leapt from the bed, frightening Valka who had not yet fallen asleep and she rushed to your side, bidding you to return to bed, but you could not. You had to see Gunnar, you had to see your kinsmen. Limping forward a few paces out into the cold air of the night Valka ran back to her hut and returned with her heavy fur cloak, gently setting it about your shoulders so that you did not freeze.

You walked past the stables, down the western side of the longhouse, past numerous buildings you did not know the purpose of and saw several people getting off the longship. And even in the dark of the night you could see bodies being lifted onto stretchers, and your heart dropped. Some deep, deep, ugly part of you hoped that they were Eivor's warriors and not yours, to no avail. There were five of them, and you rushed forward, stumbling, and in the light of the torches you tried to make out faces.

A hand was felt on your shoulder, preventing you from toppling over, and you turned to face Eivor, who looked at you with a somber, defeated face. You did not like that look, nor the way you were turned away from looking at the final body of your kin. You could only stare silently into the Wolf's eyes.

"Y/n, I…" Eivor started, unsure of the right words to say. She sighed, and then took hold of both of your shoulders and squeezed. "I am sorry," was all she said, pulling you closer to her chest in comfort. You did not like her tone and what it meant. You could not make yourself move to match the warmth of her hug. The entire clan had gathered, but they were all silent.

Slowly, she let you go, and you turned around to look at the bodies. You could recognize the pallid faces of poor Lissi, and Jørgen, and Erna, Nils…

 And then there was Gunnar, stiff and pale, blood staining the cloth of his tunic all around, and you froze, your mind not processing what you were looking at. And then you drew in a great breath and wailed, a painful, broken-hearted sound pulled from your throat like a bow running harshly across the strings of an instrument. You dropped to your knees, crawling closer to the man's body and pressing the palms of your hands to his cold cheeks, sobbing and gasping for breath. like a madwoman over his body, willing your hot tears that fell onto his face to bring him back to life. Why was he to die like this? Away from his family? His home? He did not even die in battle. He did not deserve this death. You hunched over his body, still sobbing, pressing his cold forehead to yours and then closed your eyes, and prayed that he would find his way out of Hel's domain to where he belonged, seated with the other einherjar in Valhalla. Maybe guided by a valkyrie, maybe out of his own will. 

When you pulled away you were now weeping silently, and you could not bring yourself to look at the bodies of the rest, nor look at the faces of those that were alive, passing by you as they were carried to the barracks. You instead looked out into the forest on the far side of the river, and you could not bring yourself to move even as Eivor's men began to haul the stretchers away. 

The Wolf-Kissed approached you, slowly, and set her palm on your shoulder again. "He passed peacefully, facing the moon and stars. His wounds were too dire for him to go on," she said, and you rose from kneeling on the ground, her hand on your shoulder a wonderful feeling keeping you grounded in reality. You could not speak, only staring ahead still. Eivor stayed by your side, silent for a moment.

"He… he called for me to protect you, to keep you safe as his dying words," she said quietly, and this made you turn and look at her through your tear-laden lashes. Eivor's heart squeezed. "I promised to him that I would. And my word is my bond. I will keep you safe, until… until you decide what you want to do," she said, the last bit sounding strained, as if that was not what she truly wanted to say. This was all very sudden to your already exhausted mind.

You stared at her for a moment longer, and Eivor felt you were looking through her, not at her. Blinking some tears away you slowly turned from her, looking at the water's edge and how it reflected the moonlight, trying to clear your head. "I… he… " you began, trying to find your words and will the lump in your throat away. "H-he… he was not my blood. But we grew up together… a big brother to me," you mumbled, not truly knowing why you were telling Eivor this. "I… I cared greatly for him. I still do. I've thought before what I would do if he passed, and even that hurt, but… this is…" Snivelling, you pressed a palm to your mouth so that Eivor would not have to see the ugly way your face contorted and lip quivered as you tried to hold in another anguished cry. The woman did not think any less of you. She stood unmoving behind you. "This is… this is Frederik's fault. All of it. If he had done anything…" you croaked, the lump in your throat rising again to the point where you could not speak further nor breathe, choking on air and holding it for far too long, and Eivor set her large palm on your shoulder again. When you did not respond, she slowly pulled you into another hug, being ever mindful of the injuries at your back, and you immediately clung to her, shoving your face into her chest even though it was still armored, your head under her chin, and sobbing anew. You couldn't help it at this point. You felt like a maelstrom of emotion, waves of sorrow washing over you as you kept thinking of Gunnar's soft smile that he gave you on the longship and how it contrasted with the stillness of his pale, dead face. And then you realized how cold you were, even in Valka's coat, when the warmth of the larger woman began to seep into your body; a small comfort. Eivor shushed you gently and dared to smooth your hair out just as Valka had, and you felt yourself growing calmer in the arms of the warrior.

After some time you felt more composed, calmed, and you slowly removed yourself from Eivor as the intimacy of her consolation and promise to Gunnar hit you and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, stepping back and looking to the patterns in the wood of the docks. 

"I know Gunnar had a wife and child, back in Denmark. They should know of his passing," you said, running your fingers over the edges of Valka's cloak. Eivor nodded. "I will send a letter, then." 

Swallowing, you thought of her words earlier. Protect me until I decide what I want to do, she says… you did not see any other path. 

"You… you said that you would protect me, until I have decided to go elsewhere," you started, looking up to match Eivor's blue eyes, though difficult it may be. The woman blinked slowly and nodded. 

"I… I do not think I could go elsewhere. I do not want to return to my family, knowing that Frederik could potentially return there, too. And whatever lies he spun they would believe his words over mine. I do not have a home there, not anymore," you explained, and then broke eye contact with the drengr, feeling a burst of anger at the entire situation for a moment before you took a deep breath, sighing.

"And you… you saved my life. You and Valka, you've helped me to recover. And that is something that I feel I can never repay."

You met Eivor's blue eyes again, and even in the dim light of the moon could see how soft they've grown. "I would stay with the Raven clan, if you would let me," you said, feeling small again. Eivor blinked again, and then her expression somehow grew softer, and nodded. "Of course, y/n. You will always find a home here in Ravensthorpe, and wherever else we may go," she said, sending you a muted smile. You will always find a home with me.

You let out a breath, sighing in relief and in exhaustion, and realized how cold it had gotten when you could see it hanging in the mist, and then you felt it seep into your bones. "Th-thank you, Eivor," you shivered, and the Norsewoman took note of your state almost immediately, and on instinct pulled you to her side and began walking you back to Valka. "Of course, lagr kærr."

Passing the barracks you were relieved to see some of your kin already tended to and resting; you would speak with them tomorrow of your decision. You did not have a leader, not anymore, and it was up to them whether they wanted to leave or stay once recovered. You, however, would find a home in the Raven clan yet. 

 Valka was, as expected, not in the hut, most likely at the barracks treating the last of your friends. After such a long day both you and Eivor were exhausted, and the Wolf bid you farewell at the door, turning to go to her own place of rest. Shrugging off Valka's coat you placed it in it's usual spot and then crawled into your cot, still straining with the movement. Your body had its own celebration when you finally relaxed, and though you would certainly feel the soreness tomorrow you were glad that you still had some mobility after the wounds near your spine had become infected. You would heal in time. Closing your eyes, you fell asleep blissfully quickly.

In the shadows of the longhouse's exterior, Randvi had watched how your smaller form tucked into Eivor's as the two of you ascended to the seeress's hut, and felt an ugly twist of envy in her gut. She turned away from the scene to storm to the alliance map. She still had reports to write.  

#yall dont get a summary this time i am tired #my writing #valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor #lady eivor

[capsized-heart]

Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer. 

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.   

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy​ about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that! 

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids​ @adawn1970​ @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse​ @bamposworld​ @lilttletimmy​ @cindere-llaaa​

gif credit to @sheisraging​

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo. 

 Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents. 

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters. 

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket. 

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls. 

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello!” he cheers. 

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are? 

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally. 

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well. 

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness. 

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable. 

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning. 

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved? 

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs. 

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you. 

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet. 

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.” 

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion. 

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-” 

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips. 

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest. 

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand. 

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs. 

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you. 

**

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely. 

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk. 

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger. 

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates. 

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture. 

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase. 

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

**

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea. 

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably. 

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-” 

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you. 

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought. 

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur. 

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy. 

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.” 

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge. 

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky. 

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw. 

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly. 

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.” 

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand. 

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun. 

**

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset. 

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse? 

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves. 

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin. 

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say. 

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs. 

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls. 

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

**

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent. 

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position. 

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

**

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness. 

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him. 

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.  

**

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago. 

 Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut! 

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you. 

And there would be better and more to come. 

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #little women #timothee chalamet x reader #saoirse ronan #jo march #timothee chalamet imagine #saoirse ronan imagine #theodore laurence #theodore laurie laurence #laurie #jo #imagines #laurie x reader #jo x reader #saoirse ronan x you #timothee chalamet x you #saoirse ronan fanfic #greta gerwig #saoirse ronan x reader

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

  GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#Elizabeth Olsen #WandaVision #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Sorry For Your Loss #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

it’s a saeradan & candaith, feat. Candaith Is Fine(ish). spoilers thru wildermore interludes (mid-vol3) for whom it may apply

Andrath is quiet and the old fort is deserted. The Greenway is empty but for the creak of the wagon wheels and the breath of the horses bearing them home. Radanir had left them days ago, heading back into trouble alone but for Glorengúr. Erebrandir and Thordal go on without complaint, and Candaith watches the sunlit valley in contemplative silence. Saeradan starts humming as they pass Bree, some hobbit homecoming-song he probably picked up from Halros, and within the hour they roll to a stop outside Saeradan’s cabin. It feels far longer than a handful of weeks has passed since Candaith last saw the place, longer even than Saeradan said had passed since the Forsaken Road.

Saeradan climbs down from the wagon bench and stretches before helping Candaith down, careful not to jostle him. Candaith grits his teeth, even the gentle impact with the ground sending a line of burning pain along his spine. Saeradan says nothing, but his face tells of his concern loudly enough. Candaith takes a deep breath and straightens as much as he can without tearing open the stitches. Again.

“I’ll see to the horses?” he offers. It shouldn’t involve too much bending or carrying of things. Saeradan gives him a knowing look and tosses a small iron key his way.

“The brushes are in the back closet now,” Saeradan says. Candaith rolls his eyes good-naturedly but accepts the lighter duty while Saeradan unhitches and settles Erebrandir and Thordal. 

Candaith hasn’t truly been able to visit Saeradan here since Yule at least. In the years since he left Esteldín to spend nearly all his time in the wilds, Saeradan’s has come to feel as much like home as his little camp in the shadow of Amon Sûl. The setting sun streams golden through the westward-facing windows and the whoosh of displaced air as Candaith opens the doors sets flecks of dust dancing. 

They haven’t been gone so long that there’s more than a fine layer of accumulated dust- indeed, Candaith’s own part in the Grey Company’s journey seems almost comically short now, cut down in a damp cave not a week from home. He sighs, sets Saeradan’s key on the table, and opens a closet door. It’s empty, the wood paneling water-stained. “Right.” He goes to the back closet.

"What happened to the front closet?" he asks, joining Saeradan with the better-kept horse brushes that haven't yet been relegated to road use.

"Do you remember that leaky patch in the roof?” Saeradan takes one of the brushes and sets to work on Erebrandir’s coat.

“I thought you were going to fix that before the snows started.”

“There were more pressing things to worry about,” Saeradan says. “We had an unseasonably warm day just after a snowstorm, and all the snow melting at once washed a whole section of the roof away.” He holds up his hands to suggest a hole almost a foot and a half across. “I patched it, but once it gets warmer it will need a more permanent fix.”

“How is half of the roof just looking for an excuse to collapse on you not farther up the list of things to worry about?” Thordal snorts and Candaith takes it for agreement with his assessment.

“It’s hardly half the roof,” Saeradan grumbles. “And I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“No one else stopped here long enough for you to talk them into helping you, you mean?"

“Perhaps,” Saeradan says, a smile fighting for control of his face. Candaith laughs, and hides a flinch at the twinge of pain it causes. Saeradan never has cared for climbing up to even this low roof. Candaith has done it in his place more than once over the years.

Candaith pats Thordal and straightens carefully. Infuriating as he finds it, it does still hurt to strain his back at all and he has little choice but to leave the last of tending to the horse to Saeradan. Thordal is a fine animal, but Candaith misses his own Menethir. There’s no knowing what became of her anymore, though. The Grey Company had most likely taken Menethir and the other horses of those who had fallen on the Forsaken Road with them when they continued south as spares. After what happened beneath Methedras, though, little though Candaith knows of the details, they would have had no need for so many steeds. The Falcon Clan had not been able to take them into the tunnels with them, and it would have been absurd for all of them to follow the survivors of the Grey Company. Perhaps some of the horses went free in Dunland, or else found their way to sympathetic Rohirrim farther south. Candaith hopes Menethir remained among the Dúnedain, for his part.

He manages to get his pack and Saeradan’s into the house without causing himself further hurt (or catching Saeradan’s worried attention) and finds himself at the back of the tall wagon, hand hovering at the waxed cloth that covers them. His back throbs with a dull, deep ache in counterpoint to the sharper pain when he pulls back the cloth and sees the shrouded bodies again. Four crates sit in the wagonbed between him and them, their sides stamped with scratched-out red talons. He won’t be able to lift these without tearing the stitches- he had tried, just after they left Lhanuch, and his startled, pained scream had nearly sent Saeradan into a panic. For the sake of his friend’s nerves, Candaith leaves the crates alone this time.

It’s not as if there is much other reason for him to be here, then, but he lingers, almost reaching out to touch one of the bodies.

This isn’t all of them. That fact hurts almost as much as the fact that at least this many of them are dead. Not all of the bodies had been fit to travel, Saeradan had told him, sighing against the memory. Those had been laid to rest in the shadow of the mountain, far from their homes. The rest are here before him, waiting for Candaith and Saeradan to find them somewhere to rest. On the top lie those who had not been so lucky as Candaith on the Forsaken Road.

He remembers it in flashes- the waves of shades had seemed a test for Britou’s amusement at first, but they showed no sign of stopping and as their otherworldly glow had shone on his Bebarahir a wild, desperate plan struck him. There was a flash of relief as it seemed to work, then pain, and then fear and a terrible biting cold. Laughter rang on the stone walls and lightning flashed, falling farther away with every heartbeat. A pebble clattered along the floor, and all he could think was to grab for it as his sight went dark. There was more after that, but it was even hazier and riddled through with long, dark silences he fears to look too deep into even in memory. 

“Candaith?” Saeradan’s voice rounds the wagon. The sun is setting rapidly and the night is growing chill. “If you set yourself bleeding again I swear…”

“Fear not. I’m in no hurry to repeat the experience, either,” Candaith says. His voice is far unsteadier than he expected. Saeradan sets a hand on his shoulder and he takes a deep breath. He manages a smile that he hopes is reassuring for Saeradan. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know.”

Saeradan scoffs and lifts one of the crates. “You spend a month thinking one of us is dead and see if you’re half as calm as I am.” Candaith chuckles and holds the door open for Saeradan.

Candaith carefully lights the wood-stove and the lanterns Saeradan keeps in the room that’s one part storage and one part guestroom. Saeradan keeps enough long-lasting food here even when he plans for a long absence that they don’t have to resort to trail rations or walking into Bree. Candaith isn’t sure he can deal with the Breelanders’ coldness tonight. By the time they have eaten and Saeradan has brought all the crates inside, full night has fallen. Saeradan pulls the lanterns closer and opens one of the crates.

The four wooden boxes contain the personal effects of the fallen, destined for their families back home. Their gear, if it had been usable or not simply taken by the Falcons, had been sorted through and distributed among those who remained. Candaith’s own things, less whatever he had borne with him onto the Forsaken Road, had met the same fate, and it had been a strange thing indeed when Saeradan handed him a small canvas bag bearing his own name in Nethraw’s small, neat script. There wasn’t much in it- his journals, a few trinkets he had collected, an old silver ring like woven leaves that sparkled in the firelight. His mail had been rendered useless by Britou’s supernatural blade, but it should be repairable in the right hands.

They sort the contents of the crates into several piles on the table depending on their destination, some to Esteldín or Tinnudir or the Angle or any number of other smaller towns and homesteads. Candaith picks up a delicately-made leather satchel labeled Himeldir and sets it back down heavily. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Saeradan looks up. Candaith catches his eye and shrugs helplessly.

“It’s no accident that the shades turned when they did,” he says. Piecing his memory together with Radanir’s description, there’s little question that the Oath-breakers had come for the Grey Company only after his attempt with the ring. Saeradan grasps Candaith’s wrist.

“Do not blame yourself,” Saeradan says. His eyes are hard and flat but his voice is gentle. “It wasn’t you who raised a blade to our brothers.” Candaith pulls away.

“But before I opened my mouth, the shades attacked only to toy with us, not to kill. Perhaps if I had stayed silent-”

“Do you believe they intended to let you return from the deep chamber?” Saeradan demands. Candaith hesitates. He remembers Britou’s laughter, the endless attackers- the bones in the other deep tunnels.

“No,” he admits softly. “He did not wish us to leave.” He sighs. “Himeldir was right. We should not have gone there.”

“What the Oath-breakers’ chose to do was beyond your control,” Saeradan says firmly. “And… we did learn that they would hold to their original oath, if Aragorn truly will release them.” Candaith looks at him.

“We know that for certain?”

“They believed it enough to leave the Road,” Saeradan says. “The tunnels were empty but for rats when Radanir and I found you.” 

Candaith deflates. Some good may have come of it, at least, but it didn’t need to cost so many lives. His own life Candaith would have been willing enough to give for this, for something he believed in the way so many of the Dúnedain believe in Aragorn, but he would never have traded the lives of the others if he had the choice.

“I’m glad Radanir and I left Tûr Morva when we did,” Saeradan says abruptly, breaking the heavy silence. “If we had missed the Oath-breakers’ departure- or worse, continued south on a road that may yet claim the lives of all the Company, never to come this way again- who knows how long it would have been before someone found you?” It’s not something Candaith had considered before now. The look on Saeradan’s face, pensieve and distant, says he has considered it quite a lot.

Candaith thinks of the long, hazy gap in his memories and shudders at the thought of spending even longer there. Saeradan looks at him apologetically.

“Sorry.” Saeradan takes the last of the bags and sets them in neat piles near the door. The crates marked with the sign of the Falcon he breaks and feeds to the fire. He dusts his hands off once he finishes and takes a small wooden box from a shelf. “Do you want to play a few hands?”

Candaith smirks. “I know better than to play cards with you, by now.”

Saeradan shrugs. “Knowing better rarely stops you.”

True enough. It requires little enough true focus and the routine of it is soothing, as if this were any other night Candaith came to visit over the last twenty years. Saeradan doesn’t even bother to cheat, for the most part. Eventually Candaith yawns and Saeradan shuffles the cards away. They have more grim business to get to tomorrow, but for now Candaith enjoys the sleepy peace. Saeradan insistently checks Candaith’s wound and allows Candaith to badger him into pasting one of Mandan’s salves over his own badly bruised shoulder before they retreat for the night.

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” Candaith laughs as Saeradan tries futilely to scrape all of the excess off his hands.

“You’re not the one who has to try to sleep through it,” Saeradan grumbles back. He gives Candaith a careful but solid hug before leaving him to the guestroom. “I am glad we found you there,” Saeradan says very quietly. There is something raw in his voice, buried under the quiet and the earnest sentiment. Candaith tightens his hold on Saeradan, wary of his shoulder. “And I’m sorry we didn’t return sooner.”

“You were rather busy elsewhere,” Candaith points out dryly. “But I’m glad you brought me out of there, too. Thank you.” He sleeps better that night than he has in some time and wakes refreshed, and hopes that strength will carry him through the next leg of this journey.

#lotro #so this one was actually more 'sad abt rangers' than i remembered it being #but uh #it's a thing? #est verse stuff #technically #my stories #fun times in the sad about rangers tag #saeradan #candaith