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some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer?#He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :)#fanfiction #writing

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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

#vikings #vikings series #vikings tv series #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless imagnie

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almostwisegalaxy · 5 months

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My insecure boy

Cha hyun su x reader

The night grenn home was demolished by the army and hyun su lost his memory, you chose to flee, abandoning your friends and HIM. It wasn't your choice. He advised you to leave because he believed that if you stayed with the others you'd be killed. So he packed you a bag, all the food he could find and some weapons.

"I don't know who you are anymore, but I feel you're dear to me. I promise I'll find you later, but right now you've got to get away from here.

"But what about the others? I can't leave them like this, they're waiting for us."

"If we all stay together, do you really think we'll survive? We're running out of time. Leave before the building is demolished"

So you ran away at his request, really hoping to find him later.

D+345 after monsterserification

Pov de hyun su

after yi-kyeong transformed

Eun-yoo followed her friend's monster. He had told her he was there to find the person for whom hyun su refused to succumb to monsterserification.

"If hyun su knew where she was all the time, why didn't he go and meet her sooner?"

"She's fragile right now. He thinks that by protecting her from afar, she'll be safer and more at peace".

They continued forward, chatting. Arriving in a valley far from "the city", Eun-yoo wanted to know more about this mysterious person, and frankly, the monster was getting fed up.

He raised his head to eunyoo's level and spoke to her about the spell that had created such tension when they were both in the building.

"Why are you taking so long to find out who this person is? Does knowing that he cherishes and protects this girl more than you does make your miserable human blood boil inside you? "

"No, I don't know what you're talking about." she said defensively.

"Oh, so I'm wrong. Am I also wrong that you wanted to cuddle him from the moment you saw him, that if he'd really been talking so boldly to you in that room, you'd have jumped on him? "

An argument broke out between the two. But the instant his gaze fell on her, hyun su's eyes changed from blue to their original color. It only took one look to regain possession of her body.

"She's... She gave birth..."

He knew she was carrying their children, but not that she'd given birth yet.

At that moment he hadn't listened to eun-yoo for a while. With his heart pounding, he ran to her and embraced her. But when she met the sound of his footsteps on the grass, he stopped dead in his tracks. All kinds of ideas came to mind

Will she be angry with me for leaving her all this time?

What if she doesn't want me anymore?

What if she rejected me?

What if she didn't want me around the baby? OUR child

I listened to her call me so many times, but I didn't come.

It was her voice that snapped me out of my reverie

"Hyun su? Is that you? "

Without missing a beat, he hugged her warmly, and she hugged him back. His doubts evolved.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I don't have any. I left you alone for so long to fend for yourself, I thought it was for the best but-"

"Chute, it's okay. Better late than never, right? "

They exchange a soft, passionate, loving kiss. Only the baby's chirping on his beloved's breast could stop them. Together they enter the little hut that serves as y/n's roof. The hut soon becomes their home

Yes, eun-yoo was forgotten.

#sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home #cha hyun su #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home scenario #song kang #song kang x reader #kdrama fic #kdrama

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 25 days

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 2

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5030 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

(6 Months Later)

Dick Grayson looked up at the Carr family home from his car, apprehensive to open the door just yet. It was a nice home, and from the research Dick did, a nice family lived there too.

His eyes trailed to the apartment situated above the garage, imagining the people who were inside. How were they going to react when he told them what he was there for? Scratch that, how were they going to react when they saw him?

'Should I go take a nap or are you going to man up and go inside at some point?' Oracle's sarcastic voice came through the car's bluetooth.

Dick clenched his hands around the steering wheel. Barbara - newly named Oracle - was right. It didn't matter what his friends were going to say. He needed their help, and he needed to man up.

Dick finally unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. 'I'll call you when I'm done,' he said, then ended the call before Barbara could sneak in another witty remark.

He made haste running up the Carr's driveway, then up the stairs to the apartment above the garage. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he heard laughter and lively chatter that made him pause. An overwhelming sense of guilt and shame and longing surged through him. Was he really going to break up the joy beyond the door? Once upon a time he would've been glad for a party, for a break from work and his vigilante duties.

His mind flashed back to that first party him and his friends had in Mount Justice. It was Wally's birthday and he had been lapping up all the attention, especially from M'gann, who had made him a cake and had in fact organised the whole party. This was before Wally realised him and Artemis were meant to be, same with Connor and M'gann.

But Y/N had known, had even pointed it out to Dick as they sat in the corner just the two of them, watching everything play out.

'They're all so thick,' Y/N said, taking a sip of her lemonade, trying to hide her knowing smile.

'How so?' Dick asked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'Can you not see?' She grabbed Dick's chin and guided him to look at Connor and M'gann interacting awkwardly but in a cute way, then Wally and Artemis "fighting", matching wit for wit with every snarky comment they threw at each other. 'Connor and M'gann are so into each other, and you could cut the emotional tension between Wally and Artemis it's so thick. They are all crushing hard.'

Dick watched the two couples interact a little longer and realised Y/N was right. 'Well would you look at that,' he said, turning back to Y/N. 'You're quite the observer, aren't you?'

Y/N chuckled. 'Dick, we've been best friends for three years now. If you're just figuring that out now, then you're just as thick as the rest of our friends.'

'Hey! I am not!'

'Are to.'

'Am. Not!'

'Are. To!'

The two fell into hysterical laughter, gripping onto one another so they didn't fall to the ground.

Y/N's smile came to him then, and the longing in his chest ached even more. She was more than likely beyond the door too, laughing and smiling without a care in the world. He suddenly had the thought that he couldn't go through with it. He couldn't possibly ask them - couldn't ask her - to help him. Not after what he'd done...

Before he could chicken out completely, he forced himself to knock lightly on the door.

'I'll get it,' M'gann's sweet voice called out to whoever she was with, and Dick prepared himself as he heard her walk to the door.

M'gann opened the door, and she was smiling, the remnants of laughter twinkling in her eyes. She was in her human form, but it had changed since the last time Dick saw her. Her ginger hair was now cropped just under her ears, and her features were sharper, more refined than that of a young adolescent. She wore a flattering white blouse and casual jeans, not bothering for shoes in her own home.

She was grown up. In just two years?

Her brown eyes locked with Dick's blue ones, and immediately her smile dropped as shock froze her face.

Dick offered her a small smile 'Hi, M'gann,' he said softly.

'Dick...' was all she could manage as she continued to look at him, eyes raking over him as if she were imagining things. 'What are you doing here?'

'Honey, who is it?'

Dick's guilt deepened at the sound of Connor's voice. The Superboy himself came to the door when M'gann didn't answer, and stopped in his tracks as soon as he laid eyes on Dick. But he didn't stay shocked for long.

Connor furrowed his eyebrows and stepped up behind M'gann, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. 'What are you doing here?' he asked icily, eyes solely focussed on Dick.

It hurt to see such distrust in his old friend's eyes, but Dick somewhat expected that. 'Nice to see you too, Connor,' he said, slipping into his casual, carefree persona easily. If there was one thing Dick was really good at, it was putting on a mask. 'I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd swing by. It's been a while.'

'Why don't you answer my question first before you start acting like nothing is wrong,' Connor suggested, his voice taking a deep threatening tone.

'Connor, please,' M'gann said, seemingly getting over her initial shock. She placed her left hand over Connor's on her shoulder, and that's when Dick saw the shiny diamond ring on her finger. 'He's our friend.'

Dick didn't think his guilt could worsen at those three words.

M'gann opened the door wider and offered him a small smile. 'Come in, Dick. We'd love for you to join us.'

Dick flashed her a grateful smile. 'Thanks,' he said as he ducked through the doorway. He then looked from M'gann to Connor and back again. 'Congratulations, by the way.'

M'gann looked confused for a moment, then a joyful twinkle flashed in her eyes as she looked to her ring, a soft smile gracing her features. 'Thank you, Dick,' she said. 'That's what we're actually celebrating. Come on, there is food and drinks this way.'

M'gann walked back towards the party, but Connor and Dick remained in the entrance, staring at one another.

Dick took Connor in. Because of his clone genetics, Connor never actually aged. Not physically anyways. He'd changed ever so slightly from when Dick first broke him out of Cadmus, only growing a centimetre or two every year or so. His muscles had toned more having entered his theoretical twenties, and but his face still held onto those baby features he'd had since being replicated as a teenaged Superman.

Dick sized himself up against Connor and shockingly found that, for the first time, they were looking at each other eye to eye.

Connor seemed to scan Dick, too, coming to the same conclusion that Dick had changed too since they last saw each other. Dick waited for Connor to say something, but when Connor was done he gave Dick a stone cold grimace then turned to follow M'gann.

'What a warm reunion,' Dick mumbled under breath as he followed Connor down the hallway.

The hallway opened into an open-floor plan that held the kitchen, the dinning room and the lounge. Dick expected a few more people to be waiting for them, but he only spotted Kaldur lounging on the couch, drink in hand. Being the vigilant person he was, Kaldur immediately recognised Dick and placed his drink on the coffee table as he stood up.

'Dick,' he said, teal eyes wide with surprise.

'Hey, Kaldur,' Dick greeted awkwardly, ready for the same cold treatment as Connor.

Instead, Kaldur's face broke into a warm smile as he manoeuvred around the furniture to make his way to Dick. 'Old friend,' he said as he embraced Dick. 'It has been too long.'

'It sure has, buddy,' Dick responded, returning his friend's embrace.

Kaldur released him, but kept his hand on Dick's shoulder as he scanned over him. 'Look at you! You seem to be healthy and strong.'

It was true. Dick had noticed he'd muscled up a little more since leaving the team, though still keeping towards the leaner side of muscular. He certainly wasn't has bulk as Connor, or Kaldur for that fact, who Dick noted also had more muscles and toned features. Kaldur certainly filled out the black button-up he wore. But, as it was with Connor, Dick was happy to see him looking directly in Kaldur's eyes as they spoke, not from slightly below as it had been since they were children.

'Thanks man,' Dick said. 'Been working out. I see you've been doing the same, Aquaman.'

'My King left some large shoes to fill,' Kladur admitted humbly. 'But thank you.'

'So you know of Kaldur's promotion, but couldn't contact him to say congrats when it happened?' Connor interjected from his place in the kitchen.

M'gann scolded him as she placed some plates on the dining table, but the mood had already changed to tense and quiet.

'Connor's right,' Dick admitted, addressing his three friends. 'I'm sorry. These past two years... I should've stayed in contact. I wanted to. But every time I went to, I convinced myself that you didn't want to hear from me. That it would be better to leave you all be while I try to figure out myself again.'

'Oh Dick,' M'gann started, walking around the table to pull him into a hug. 'Of course we wanted to hear from you. You're our friend and we missed you. But we understand that after Wally died, you had to take a break from everything.'

M'gann pulled away and then pointed an accusatory finger at him, looking extremely cross with him. 'But if you ever do anything like that again, I swear I will hunt you down and kick your sorry ass into another universe. Understood?'

Dick nodded vigorously. 'U-Understood.'

M'gann's sweet demeanour returned and she walked back to the table to continue setting it. The three men looked at her quietly as she went about her work, until Dick turned to Connor and said, 'Your fiancée is scary.'

Dick expected another glare from the Superboy, but he was gladly surprised when the dark-haired boy nodded in agreement, face slightly pale. 'You got that right.' He then shook himself out of his frozen state of fear to help his fiancée dish out their meal.

'Give him time,' Kaldur said quietly to Dick. 'You know how Connor can be with expressing his emotions.'

'Well, he's not as emotionally constipated as he once was, I'll give him that,' Dick said. 'Unfortunately, I don't think I have time.'

'What do you mean?' Kaldur asked.

Dick went to explain but quickly decided against it. Kaldur was in the Justice League now. Dick couldn't really explain what he was planning to do. Not yet, anyway.

'Forget I said anything,' Dick said instead, flashing his charming smile and wrapping an arm around his old friend's shoulders. 'For now, why don't you tell me everything I've missed. How is it being Atlantis' new champion, first starters...'

For the next hour, it was like old times. The four of them ate and laughed and swapped stories about what Dick had missed in the last two years. They recalled some of the good times they all shared when they were on the team, and Dick convinced himself for a brief moment that they could all stay like this. Happy, carefree, young.

But Dick had come to Connor and M'gann for a reason.

Once they'd had enough of dessert, Connor offered to wash up and Dick saw his chance.

'I'll help wipe up,' Dick offered, taking his and Kaldur's plates to the sink while Connor filled the sink with soap and water. Dick waited until M'gann and Kaldur were in deep conversation over on the couch that Dick decided to broach his intended subject. 'So, how is the team going?'

'The team is doing okay,' Connor answered flatly, never lifting his eyes from his work with the plates in the sink. 'I just try to help M'gann as best as I can. We're down a few numbers since your old man decided to take half of the Justice League and our team with him in his little stunt.'

Dick winced. He recalled getting the call from Tim about it about five months ago. It had been an orchestrated walk out from over half the Justice League and their protégés, all of them wanting to go back to their vigilante ways as the League and the team had become somewhat irrelevant. Those that remained never saw it coming.

'I'm sorry about that,' he apologised, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Just felt appropriate.

Connor looked at him briefly, hands pausing in the sink as he did, and then released a sigh of defeat. 'Don't be sorry, Dick. It's not like you had anything to do with it.'

'No,' Dick agreed, 'but I should've been there at least. I should've reached out to see if you were okay. We started this team together, I shouldn't have just left it all to you.'

'Well, I know the rest of the team would really appreciate it if you came back now,' Connor said, his tone hopeful. 'That is, if you're ready to come back.'

Dick's heart lurched at the thought of going back to the team, both with want and terror. He liked Barbara, he really did. But, if he were being honest, he'd missed being a part of something bigger than himself and his own agendas.

'Connor,' Dick started softly, looking to see M'gann and Kaldur still locked in deep conversation before continuing, 'I would love to come back. Please know that. But you should know I haven't just been idly moving about the place the last two years. I've been conducting undercover missions of my own with Barbara in relation to the meta-human trafficking crisis.'

Connor's eyes widened and Dick saw he was about to raise his voice so leaned in close and hurriedly whispered, 'Keep your voice down, please.'

Connor took a second to register what Dick had said before whispering harshly, 'What do you mean you've been working on your own? You should've come to us if you were getting involved.'

'First of all, I just said I had Barbara helping me, and secondly because the team and the Justice League are full of public figures now. The missions wouldn't work if they got involved. But I've actually come here to ask you for your help on a mission, Connor.'

'Me?! Why would I-'

'Let me explain. First of all, it'll be you, me, Artemis-'

'You've pulled Artemis into this too?! Where the hell has she been, anyway?'

'Would you stop interrupting me for one second?' Dick hissed, wiping up a plate or two before returning to the conversation. 'As I was saying, from our intel, Markovia's Princess Tara has been found dead. Killed by a meta human supposedly, and I have a sneaky suspicion someone has been testing on people with the meta gene, turning them into extreme versions of their meta abilities. I need your help to find out who. As I said before, I've convinced Artemis to help already, and I was looking to you, Jefferson, and Y/N to make up the rest of the team.'

Dick looked around the room, looking at how empty the couches were around M'gann and Kaldur and sudden thought struck him. 'Speaking of which, where is Y/N?' he asked. 'I would've thought she'd be here celebrating the good news.'

He'd forgotten to keep quiet that time, and so Kaldur and M'gann looked at him alongside Connor, all looking as if Dick had sprouted three heads.

'What?' Dick asked, patting around his face. 'Do I have sauce on my face?'

'You don't know?' M'gann asked, sounding almost on the brink of tears.

That's when Dick realised something was majorly wrong, and his gut twisted with fear. 'Know what? Where's Y/N?'

'Y/N, she...' Kaldur started, then took a deep breath before continuing, 'Y/N left the team, Dick.'

'What?' Dick said, almost dropping the plate he held. 'What do you mean she left?'

'She left about six months ago,' Connor answered, washing up the last plate and emptying the sink. 'Before everyone else left. She felt like she wasn't doing enough with us anymore, so she just... left.'

'I've sent her plenty of messages,' M'gann said, 'but she hasn't answered any of them. And I can't sense her at all in the country. Even the Watchtower couldn't find her.'

Dick couldn't believe this. Y/N was gone? 'So Wonder Woman doesn't even know where she is?'

'Wonder Woman has been busy running the Justice League since Batman resigned,' Kaldur answered. 'Even if she did know where her daughter was, I don't think she'd like us to know, and I would have to agree.'

'Why?' Dick asked, suddenly very angry at Kaldur for not being as concerned as he was about Y/N. 'Do you know where she is?'

Kaldur shook his head. 'Regrettably, no. But when we last spoke, she sounded like she didn't want to be found. That she would come back to us when she was ready. I think we should respect that.'

Dick shook his head in disbelief. 'No, that's not like Y/N. She wouldn't just leave anywhere without telling anyone.'

'What, you mean like you?' Connor asked, and that cold stare was back.

'I mean she is loyal and empathetic. Surely she would know how her absence would affect the team,' Dick continued, ignoring the personal dig.

'She was loyal, Dick,' Connor countered. 'She was loyal, and stuck around with M'gann, Kaldur and I until the team got back on its feet. She held the team together when we were on the brink of falling apart. But you wouldn't know that because you weren't here.'

Dick wanted to argue but found that he couldn't. What he had thought was the best for the team turned out to be the complete opposite. He could sense it now; his relationships with his oldest friends were no longer as they were.

'You were gone for two years,' Connor continued. 'You'd be surprised as to how much a person can change in that time.'

The day Dick left flashed in his mind, and he recalled the pain in Y/N's eyes when he left her behind. He remembered how she'd held it together, but he knew she would probably cry about it later because she'd done it some many times before, always going to him to cry on his shoulder.

But he wasn't there that time. He'd left her all alone to dry her tears.

You're my best friend. Always have been. Always will be...

Dick looked to his friends again, but they could barely meet his eyes. Kaldur was disappointed, Connor was angry, and M'gann was just sad. An apology bubbled up in Dick's throat, but he didn't think it was sufficient enough for what he had done to them.

'I have to find her, then,' Dick said into the quiet room, and finally they all looked to him.

'Did you not just hear Kaldur?' Connor asked. 'We should leave her alone like she wants.'

'We don't necessarily know that,' Dick countered. 'Besides, this isn't about bringing her back. This is about me making things right with her.'

'But what if Kaldur is right?' M'gann argued. 'What if she doesn't want to be found. Maybe the right thing to do is leave her alone?'

Dick shook his head. 'She's my best friend, M'gann. I can't accept that she wouldn't want to see us ever again.'

'Maybe she doesn't want to see you, have you considered that?' Kaldur asked, his voice taking on a protective demeanour. 'The bottom line is, Dick, that you left her behind without a second thought. And she respected that, even if it killed her inside knowing that you would rather abandon her - abandon us - than face the pain of losing Wally together. She missed you every single day, and yet she still fought and trained and guided the team without faltering. And now, when she finally finds the courage to do what's best for her for once, you want to shame her for it?'

Anger surged through Dick, fiery and hot. 'I am not shaming her for anything. Do you not think I didn't think of you all every single day?'

'If you did, you didn't do anything about it, did you?' Connor mumbled, but Dick heard him just fine.

'Look, if you guys don't want to help me find her, fine,' Dick said, looking at all three friends pointedly. 'But I will find her. Because she needs to know that she was right. That I was wrong to leave and I am a terrible best friend.'

His expression softened as he looked down at his hands, imagining how long ago him and Y/N would link their pinkies. How simple friendships were back then.

'If she never comes back,' he continued, quieter this time, 'then I won't blame her. But best friends don't give up on each other.'

It was quiet for what felt like an eternity. Until Kaldur walked up to Dick and grabbed his shoulder comfortingly.

'You may be a terrible best friend,' Kaldur said, a small smile warming his face. 'But that doesn't mean your heart isn't in the right place.'

'Thanks, Kaldur,' Dick said, patting Kaldur's hand upon his shoulder.

Kaldur dropped his hand and the four of them sat down on the couches. 'Y/N didn't tell me where she was going,' Kaldur started, 'just that she needed to find out who she was again.'

'I don't follow,' Dick said.

Kaldur chuckled. 'Don't worry, I said the same thing to her when she told me. But she also said something along the lines of, "I need to find out where I've come from to find out where I will go.".'

'What the hell does that mean?' Connor asked.

'Again, not sure. But when I asked her the same question, she said she had to go back to her roots,' Kaldur elaborated. 'Something to do with where it all started. And her mother...'

Dick contemplated all of Kaldur's recollections, juggling each statement over one another to try and make sense. It was so vague, but Dick could sense there was a blatant truth staring right at them if they just looked hard enough.

Where it all began... Where she's been... Her mother...

The answer hit Dick like a brick wall.

'Themyscira,' he said softly, then more confidently. 'She's gone to Themyscira.'

'The Island of the Amazons?' M'gann asked. 'Are you sure?'

Dick nodded. 'It has to be. That's where Wonder Woman is from, and Y/N mentioned all the time when we were kids how much she wanted to go visit it one day.'

'But isn't it hidden?' Connor interjected. 'I mean, that's why they haven't gone back right? Anyone who leaves the island can never find it again.'

'Wonder Woman must've had something to help her remember,' Kaldur offered. 'Or at least guide her back home. I would suggest we go ask her, but again, I doubt she would tell us anything.'

It was like nothing had changed. The four of them had slipped back into theorising and planning and bantering as if no time had passed, as if no one had left or been promoted. It warmed Dick's heart at the thought that they all wanted to help find Y/N, even bring her home.

But Dick shook his head in dismissal. 'You guys don't have to worry yourselves over this. It sounds like I'm part of the reason she left in the first place, so it's my responsibility to find her and make this right on my own.'

'While I agree that this is partially your fault,' Connor said, earning a slight slap from M'gann beside him that he barely flinched at, 'Y/N's our friend too. The least we can do is help you find her.'

Dick smiled gratefully at his friend, who gave him a nod in return which was a start. 'Okay then...' Dick brought his watch up in front of his chest, clicked a few buttons before bringing up a large holographic screen with Barbara on it. 'Can you see us, Babs?'

'In quality HD, as well,' Barbara replied with a witty smile. 'Now, what can Oracle do for you?'

'We're trying to find Themyscira,' Dick explained. 'But it's not on any maps that we know of. Anything in any history records? Sailor sightings while out at sea?'

'You're asking me to find a mythical island from greek mythology that is meant to be hidden from Man's World and is forgotten by any who leave it?' Barbara asked incredulously, but then began typing ferociously on her end. 'Yeah, sure. No problem.'

Dick and the others waited in silence as Barbara worked her magic, files and maps and illustrations of the island popping up all over the screen around her face. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

'Okay,' she began, 'according to maps, you're right, the place doesn't exist. Even old sailors from Ancient Greece don't have any records of the place. However, I did find some similar tales being published in short stories of greek mythology and sailing journals. And all of them mention a couple of times sailing near what has now become the mouth of the modern Terme River in what we now know as Turkey, and having a strange sensation wash over them about danger. Each and every one of them have been convinced there is danger ahead and have turned away.'

'But they're just stories,' Kaldur argued. 'How can you be sure that what they speak of is the Island of the Amazons?'

'Ease up, Aquaman. I'm getting there.' A few more clicks and taps and Barbara brought up a picture of a very odd looking fish. 'Do you recognise that at all?'

Kaldur stared at the fish for a moment, contemplating its odd structure. 'I don't recognise it as a species,' Kaldur said. 'But I do recognise parts of it. It is like... different fish species have been spliced up and put back together to form this.'

'Exactly,' Barbara said, tap and clicking fervently again. 'This is a fish that has been found not near Turkey but close enough, and on multiple occasions. Now, if we isolate all these fish types... and then map out where each species usually resides... then find the crossover point for all of them...'

Dick watched diligently as Barbara isolated the fishes, highlight on the world map which species resided where, then drew lines horizontally and vertically, then zoomed in on the section the two lines crossed over.

'And there you have it,' Barbara offered proudly. 'The mouth to the Terme River in Turkey. You're welcome.'

'That makes sense,' M'gann said, looking up at the map, intrigued. 'If Themyscira is supposedly this pocket of space no human can find, then it makes sense that sea creatures of different genetic combinations would be able to breed there in peace, more than likely living there except for the stray pod or two that wander off into the open ocean.'

'I would have to agree,' Kaldur said, fascinated by it all as well. 'Who knows how many sea creatures live in harmony there.'

'Well, I'll be sure to find out when I get there,' Dick said as he stood up. 'Thanks Babs.'

'Any time,' she said, then the call ended.

'Wait, you're leaving now?' M'gann asked as Dick made his way to the front door.

'This cannot wait, M'gann,' Dick insisted, opening the front door. 'I have to speak with her as soon as possible.'

'Hey.' Dick was forced to stop when Connor grabbed him by his bicep, bringing the two of them close enough Dick could feel Connor's breath on his cheek.

'Are you really doing this for Y/N's sake, or for yours?' Connor asked in a hushed voice. 'Because whatever mission you think you need her for, I can assure you it cannot be more important than your friendship. Do you understand?'

Dick didn't quite understood what he meant, but he nodded anyways, and Connor let him go.

M'gann and Kaldur stepped up beside Connor as Dick made his way down the apartment stairs and back to the car. M'gann wrapped her arms around Connor's waist as he embraced her with one arm over her shoulder.

'Good luck, old friend,' Kaldur called out. 'May your journey be safe and successful.'

Dick chuckled as he waved farewell. 'I know you've always been well-spoken, but is it now a job requirement as Aquaman to sound like Gandalf?'

Kaldur pulled a face that Dick and M'gann laughed at, and Connor cracked a smile at the slight burn. Before he could psyche himself out of it, Dick hopped in the car and took off towards Wayne Manor.

'Call Alfred Pennyworth,' Dick spoke loud and clear, and the car immediately began ringing.

After a few rings, Alfred promptly answered the phone. 'Master Dick, what a pleasant surprise.'

'Hey, Alfred. Is the Batwing free at the moment?'

'I've just given it a deep clean now. Why?'

'Excellent. Could you please prepare it for take off by the time I reach the Manor? I have a little excursion I have to go on.'

'Will that excursion bring the Batwing back in one piece, Master Dick?'

'...I'll be there in twenty.'

Dick promptly ended the call, not waiting to hear a scolding from Alfred. Those were never fun.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure what to expect when he went to Themyscira. But Steve Trevor did it once, surely it could be done again.

Either way, it was a risk Dick was willing to take to get his best friend back.

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

Tag list:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @tyrannosaurexrex1300 | @lunaizhere

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purelyfiction · 2 months

Text

stars in a line - robert 'bob' floyd x f!reader

Word Count: 1,207 words

Summary: Chicken's in the skillet, ice in the drink, head's in the clouds, diamond's in the rough, he's in a Chevy and I'm in love // Tips in the apron, hair's in a braid, Mercury's all in retrograde // He's in a T-shirt all cleaned up, Good lord almighty, mama don't wait up // Chills down my spine, hearts on the line, He's all mine and I'm in love

Content Warning: fluff!! also note of animal abandonment

Author Note: another round for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))))))

the familiar rumble of the older engine makes your features split with a smile. when bob had told you he was gonna drive his truck from montana to california you thought he was losing his mind.

then he'd explained why he was so insistent.

that he'd taken you out in that '87 Chevy all those years ago. after weeks of coming into the diner you worked in after school, dozens and dozens of milkshake and fry basket combos (and subsequent heartburn) just so he could hang out with you. he'd gotten up the nerve to finally ask you out. that truck had been your front row seats at the drive in watching a rerun of some old army movie his dad had recommended.

he'd taken the two of you to prom in that truck. to high school graduation, your college graduation. when the engine died on you while he was stationed in atlanta he'd taught you how to fix the thing via facetime.

beverly the chevy had been there for so many of your big moments. she'd been the reason why bob ended up buying the house that you stood contently in.

'bev is gonna need a place out of the elements if she's gonna stay top notch.'

this house had been the only one with a two car garage. one side for bev and one side for your car.

now when the engine rumbles echoed in the garage and made the older house vibrate, you couldn't help but grin. the sizzling of chicken in a skillet on the stove greets bob when he steps into the kitchen. he's greeted with the smell and a bottle of wine in a pile of ice in the sink. the door to the garage shuts, and you glance over your shoulder. when you do, you're witnessing the brown paper bouquet in his hands, white t-shirt on his shoulders, levis hugging his waist, trucker cap right where it belongs. he knows what this does to you. it's a simple look, nothing more than the basics but that's what does it. it highlights him. the man you love, bare bones and all.

the same man you fell for in that truck bed all those years ago.

he slides his boots off and wraps his arms around you from behind you, showing off the flowers he carried in. "happy flowers to you," he's humming now, making you giggle as his arms tight around you start bouncing you back and forth as he sings to the tune of 'happy birthday', "happy flowers to you, happy flowers, happy flowers, to my valentine youuuuuu" he punctuates the end of the song with a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you ease the weight of the florals from his hand.

"these are stunning, bo." you grin as he lets go, letting you turn to face him fully as he smiles.

"i know, i picked 'em cause they remind me of you." bob grins before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, barely pulling back when he speaks again, "happy valentines, sweet girl." you repeat the sentiment before he takes the arrangement and starts to get them into water.

you can't help but stare as he begins trimming the ends of each stem, easing them into the vase. you can smell the freshness of his body wash, having showered on base before he came home to you. couldn't waste time on your night together - and he knew it. the combination on him is near lethal to you. if you weren't actively cooking dinner, the counter would have been supplying a different kind of heat to the kitchen.

"i bought you something!" you nearly startle him with your sudden announcement, the reminder of your gift hitting you as you watch him. running down the hall causes the pup in the living room to chase after you, causing you and bob to both laugh.

shadow had been an unplanned addition to your lives because the poor pup appeared on your back deck one night. the collar on his neck held your current address. the previous owners had barely been involved with the process of the sale, so you didn't have their contact information to tell them hey assholes, you left your dog.

so, you and bob joked that the house came with a guardian, a black lab and german shepherd mix (bob got his dna tested out of infuriating curiosity). he quickly clung to the two of you - thus 'shadow'.

you lug the box into the kitchen, where bob has kept an eye on the meal you had recklessly abandoned. looking at you he huffs a gasp. "sweet girl, this is unnecessary." he laughs, taking the wrapped gift from your arms and sliding it onto the counter. still, he tears into it and reveals the milkshake maker, making him laugh, looking over at you with a grin. "that why you got your hair all done like this?" he grins, his fingers moving over the braid you'd plaited this morning.

"maybe." you hum, kissing his cheek as he looks over the box holding the machine. that diner the two of you met in had closed not long after you moved to san diego. you'd spent hours there and he'd once complimented the ribbon in your hair when it was woven into the braid on your head. recently, bob had mentioned how he'd missed those milkshakes they'd always made him.

he grins, before tucking his hand into his pocket. "hold out your hand." you hold it out as he asks, palm up. what he sets into your palm catches you off guard.

you'd been expecting something small, likely a jewelry box or something, like the years before.

instead a little metal circle is dropped into your palm. shining and glimmering. diamonds along it like stars in a line. your spine is electrified with chills, as your jaw drops as you look at him in awe. "bob, what-you-"

"i can get on my knee if you want, i'm just- i'm so in love with you. i'm truly in awe of you and how valid you make me feel. how valued and cherished i feel - how you listen," his head nods to the machine on the counter, "and you care and you never fail to be the best. just simply the best. i hope that i am for you-"

cutting him off you speak, "and you are," he laughs.

"then i wanna continue being that for you. for forever." you're sliding the new piece of jewelry onto your ring finger before he can get the words out, your arms slinking around his shoulders and linking your lips with his.

when you pull back, you grin.

"you're mine. i'm all yours and i'm in love. i'm so in love with you. with our life and the path we're on." you whisper. his hand takes a hold of your arm before the two of you jump at the sound of a smoke detector, both of you scrambling to clear the kitchen of smoke.

when the alarm is off and the burnt chicken is tossed, you smirk as you pull ice cream from the fridge.

"ice cream for dinner?" you try. bob grins.

"how about milkshakes instead?"

#bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction

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alwaysshallow · 2 months

Text

prompt: ghost retired from task force 141. soap takes a journey through their whole relationship, thinking where it went wrong. part 1 of ?

John MacTavish is a brave man.

At least, he likes to think of himself like this. He has proven multiple times that he is brave. First and foremost, he tried to enroll to the SAS a few times; and it wasn't important that every time he was caught lying about his age, it was the fact that he still tried, despite the amused looks on the recruiter's faces. He remembered all of them, including that damn question he had to answer thousands of times: why do you want to be in the army so early?

Stupid question. Question that, every time, he answered with: why not? In his eyes, he was way more mature than most of the boys his age (an obvious lie, he was maybe even less mature), more skilled than them and would make a perfect fit for the army. What was important too, he could stand his ground without any troubles - besides the one, the one that his mother always scolded him about. His mouth was way too honest, causing him many problems.

Thankfully, those problems weren't military ones; men actually dismissed him with a small smile on their face and a reminder that he could "join later" and be useful then. Obvious bullshit, but after some time, John took that seriously and started training on his own to be prepared.

And he was prepared. Still is, due to strict training in military and at bootcamps that he worked his ass off, trying to be the best of the best, trying to be the best sniper, demolitions expert. He thought of every detail, knowing that if he wants to be remembered, he has to be remembered for something good. For something that people will be envious of.

Paid off, since he passed it with the highest marks on all 3 phases; he cursed in his mind at Gaz being a few seconds quicker than him with the record, but he was the youngest to pass the SAS selection in history, so he guessed it was good to give his rival – later best friend – the first place in something.

He was also brave on the missions; he still remembers his first one, even if he has actual two first ones. First one as a soldier, and first one as a Task Force 141 member.

Soldier one was tough. He didn't really know what to expect at first, if he's gonna be more engaging with civilians, or put into the crossfire; and he quickly understood that right in the middle of war, there's no such thing as knowing what's gonna come.

Death, feeling like a failure, trying to bottle everything up for the sake of the mission just to slowly rot inside, if you're not gonna keep up with it. Thankfully, John somehow knew what he was signing up for, so it came easier for him, but he saw guys that didn't make it far as he did.

In moments like this, he is thankful.

Johnny definitely prefers to think of the first mission with the Task Force, though. He waited for the time like this enough to be excited like a kid on Christmas day, jumping around to unwrap all the gifts. For him, gifts were new adventures to get, goals to accomplish, things to prove, since he was the youngest on the team. Price told him that, when he called him, Soap immediately sent his mum a text about the team he became a part of.

He came back home wasted, but it was for a good cause, after all.

For those who know Johnny enough, it isn't a surprise that he remembers everything about his first day. The weather, how he almost thought he's gonna be late for the first meeting because some moron bumped into his car, his nervousness, how he almost vomited, greetings with everyone on the team.

Over time, Kyle Garrick quickly becomes his best friend, and a keeper of secrets that Johnny has. Maybe it's because he's closer to age with him than with others, maybe similar experiences, but he really is someone that he can talk to without feeling any boundaries between them. Even if he is the holder of the record that he felt envious of (for a moment), somehow MacTavish doesn't feel like this anymore, he's more impressed, if it's possible.

Over time, John Price is easily his mentor. Someone that he looks up to, someone that he remembers from his past, when he was only training. A living legend that he wishes to be in the future, and now he's in his team. Johnny knows that if he'd tell anyone from his previous unit where he is, they'd be jealous. And for a reason; Price isn't just some captain that exists, he's a captain that everyone respects, and that's what matters.

Over time, Simon Riley… is still an enigma that Soap wishes to understand more, if it would be even a possibility. It's not – the man speaks less than a monk, wears his skull face all the time so he can't even take a peek at his face (he thinks it is pretty, though), but cracks jokes that usually belong to dads or uncles at weddings. Every time he thinks he knows something about his comrade, it collapses right in the moment.

No matter how MacTavish tries to talk with him longer, no matter how he nudges him so he sends him judgy looks, it's not enough. He's not the problem, he knows, Ghost is like this to everyone, but somehow that infuriates him even more, since he always found a way.

To everyone, and yet somehow isn't adding.

First serious interaction, where Soap can feel like he cares, happens where Graves betrays them and he's on the run. It feels like playing with death, after being shot in the arm, after feeling like he's on his own. After feeling like something that he finally had control of, it turned into ashes really fast. They weren’t even comrades for that long, they had so many things to live through together, and—

"Johnny, how copy?"

His heart nearly skips a beat when he hears that. Suprassing a groan of pain, he moves his arm a little; it fucking hurts, but it's good. Nerves are still there. "Missed my ass, LT?"

He hears scoff on the other side of the line. "You're the only one I can trust right now, sergeant. Thought you're dead in the ditch somewhere."

He knows It's probably better to ignore that warm feeling in his chest. "Never."

Everything after this, feels like a video game that he likes to play from time to time, not real life. Trying to get to church, trying to survive while Shadow Company is hunting not only his ass, but also Ghost's – and on Johnny's mind is also Alejandro. Is he alive?

He has many questions, and no one to actually answer him, but having Simon on comms somehow eases his mind, especially when he serves all those dad jokes. For the first time, it's Soap that doesn't know what to tell him, he is the one who speaks less, and it feels like a good break from the usual routine.

Surely, it would be even better if the conditions of the whole banter would be a little… calmer, without anyone on their back, but he had to cherish what he has. He supposes it won't last long, probably after everything will be right he'll get back to his usual, grumpy self, but it's the thought that counts.

John is quite pleased to see that he was wrong, when they're in the bar, after a mission; Task Force 141 back together, as well as members of Los Vaqueros back in Las Almas. Thoughts about how he would want to stay there for a longer time to help flood all over him, until the seat next to him cracks under Ghost's weight.

Soap bites his tongue before he says a joke about this. Bad habit, but he learned the hard truth over the years that sometimes he needs to shut up, especially if he cares about having his relationships in check. And, to be honest, he don't want to upset his lieutenant after he was so… caring for him.

"Everything's good, LT?" He tilts his head, observing how Simon sips his whiskey without even frowning at the strongness of the alcohol; couldn't be him.

"Tired, MacTavish," he replies, eyeing him up and down; lazily, like he doesn't really have the power to do this, but he wants to. At least, Soap thinks this way. It's a giddy feeling. "Your arm?"

"My arm?" he fires the question right back, without much thinking about it. Riley's one look gets him back to shape, and he suddenly knows what he was asking about. "Eh, 's… good. Hurts still, but should be good. Doctor told me 's nothin' too serious and—"

"—Why you thought 'm not gonna help you?" Ghost interrupts him.

It's not harsh like usual, when Johnny blabbers too much, and irritates his lieutenant with information that doesn't need to be said out loud. This one feels like a genuine question that he thought of for a while, and it makes sergeant all tingly inside.

Weird; because why Simon needs to know this? Does it bother him that Scot felt like he wouldn't help him, and he'd die on the streets like a dog? Or, worse: be tortured by Shadow Company, then he would eventually die, if Graves would feel generous enough.

"It's…" he gulps. His grasp around glass tightens, he doesn't even realize that only ice is left here, when he plays with it. "You didn't have to. Situation was rough, everythin' blew the fuck up. Wouldn't blame ya if you would leave me, happens."

Guy with the skull balaclava hums, like he gets his way of thinking. For a few seconds, there's an awkward silence between them, chatter from other people and music being the only sound. "We're a team, Johnny. Not gonna let you die on me anytime soon, do you hear me?"

He nods, but it's not enough for Simon. Johnny almost squeaks, when he grabs his chin unexpectedly, forcing him to look into his brown eyes. Dark, darker than the beer that he's currently drinking. "What the—"

"—do you hear me, sergeant?"

It takes all in his will not to kiss him, but Johnny knows that's not the situation like in the movies he watched with his sister; not like the movies, where the main character is adored by a silent, grumpy guy just because he loves them. That's just another situation with his lieutenant who should really seek therapy to talk better with people that he cares about because grunting out answers ain't really the way.

Johnny at least thinks he cares about him a little. He wants him to. "I do hear."

"Good."

And this is how the whole story gets interesting. Tracing Makarov, figuring out what they should do about Shepherd being an asshole, but first and foremost, interacting as a team. As Task Force 141.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #ghoap fic #john soap mactavish #soap/ghost #simon riley fic

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missdawnandherdusk · 6 months

Text

All Good Things to Those Who Wait

Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

There goes the last great American dynasty

Who knows if she never showed up, what could have been

There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen

She had a marvelous time ruinin' everything

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

The Chapter That Never Happened Chapter 13

Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Summary: tying up some loose ends :)

A/n: *emerges from the void*

Everything has an ending. The best stories, and the worst ones. Looking back at my story, there was no better ending I could have asked the stars for. I lost people I loved but I also stood for what I believed in and led an army to victory. No one would forget what had happened in those days. The days of the Great War.

But what is life without tying up a few loose ends. You’ve come with me this far on this journey, and now as I look back, perhaps there are some things that you’d like to know. Some conversations you’d like to hear. Some people you’d like to meet or see again. So, here are those loose ends, tied together.

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

I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home. It was in the efforts to try and find my mother, and try to find some peace and meaning after the past years. Draco came with me, at my side.

“She’s not here,” I sighed, knowing before we even stepped foot in the house that my mother wasn’t waiting for me. “And somehow that hurt’s more,”

“She’ll come in her own time love,” Draco soothed. Maybe he was right, or maybe I’d always be searching for her in the stars like I looked for my father.

Draco and I sat on the porch that night, watching the sun set and the fireflies come to life in the meadow that blanketed around us.

“You cast a patronus,” Draco said as I laid my head on his shoulder, watching the wildflowers dance in the wind.

“I know,” A smile touched my lips.

“It was a dragon,”

“Yeah,” I took his hand into mine, thinking back to the first night Draco cast his own patronus with my father’s wand. How things had changed since then. “My mother always told me that one day I’d find my patronus and it would watch over me like my father,”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“I don’t think you need anyones protection,” The humor in his voice gave way to the smile that I couldn’t see.

“It’s still nice to have someone beside me—to fight alongside me,”

He was quiet a moment before airing his doubts. “Do you think that maybe…” I knew where he was going with the thought, because it had been chipping at the back of my mind.

“Because they’re so different we’re not meant to be together?” I mused, finishing his worried thought.

“Yeah,” He sighed.

“No,” I sat up, facing him. “I think they’re just right for us. I’ve thought about it—more than I should. But in reality… if we think about it, your lion,”

“Aslan,” Draco’s fingers brushed over my locket. A smile crept to my lips and I nodded.

“And the first task,”

“The what?” I had caught him off guard, a beautiful sight to behold.

“Our fourth year, that first task of the tournament.” Realization struck him.

“Our patronus’ show the start of us—when we really first started to trust each other.” I took his hand back into mine. “They’re not so different after all,”

He laughed without fear and kissed me softly, before pulling me closer. “The start of us,” Draco mused, and maybe he could see them like I could: a younger me standing there, skeptically looking at a younger Draco. Before the war, before the long nights, secret kiss, tears, laughter, love and loss. Two kids who took a chance.

When the sun cleared the horizon and its final rays fading, Draco and I headed inside—to the empty house that still promised to protect me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on the door. In the week that we had been here, no one had disturbed out haven. No one knew we were here.

Draco looked up from his book. I dislodged myself from the couch and his arms, and went to answer the door, on guard. I stared at the one standing before me, not knowing how to quite process it.

“Hi, mum,” I whispered.

“Hello,”

Time stilled around us. Everything came rushing to the surface only to be stopped by my unparted lips. One thought escaped.

“I did it,” my voice was barely audible.

“I’m so proud of you,”

Tears stung my eyes. After all was said and done relief flooded through me more than anger did. Perhaps it was the peace that blanketed the Wizarding world that calmed my hurt.

“Mum,” My voice broke into tears. Amity wrapped around us as—after years—I got a hug from my mother.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” She whispered, stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry,”

I nodded into her shoulder, letting all of my bottled-up tears come out. All of the stresses from war and the nightmares that plagued me at night—my mother was still there to hold me tight. It didn’t matter that I was still hurting from wounds she inflicted, to know she was there, willing to hold me tight, and call me hers was enough.

“Y/n, are you—” Draco came out and paused. I pulled away from my mother and looked at him. He gave me a soft smile and nodded, heading back into the house.

“Is he upset with me?” My mother asked. I laughed hopelessly.

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping away my tears.

“Are you?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” My voice softened. “There’s so much right now… so much to sort through…”

“There is.” She didn’t deny it, and maybe it was comforting that someone outside of my peers acknowledged that I had been through a lot, and in turn that had caused a lot of heavy burdens on my heart and soul.

My gaze drifted back to hers.

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked.

She shook her head. “That’s not what you want, nor need,” Reaching our she placed per hand on my arm, soothing me before I could argue. “I’ll be around if you need me, but until then, the house is for you—it always has been. Build a life,” She smiled and looked through the window—probably at where Draco was inevitably spying on us. “You’ve found a good one,”

A smile touched my lips.

“Thanks mum,”

My mother inhaled sharply and nodded. “I’ll be off then,” Turning to go down the porch stairs, she paused. “He would be so proud of you,”

Tears burned my eyes again, as I wrapped my arms around her, needing her to hold me just once more before I could let her go. Because in her arms was also the love of my father that was taken from me too soon by this war. A war that I saw an end to. And maybe in that moment, the war within me ended too. I wasn’t the daughter of a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I was the daughter of Walt and Elizabeth. And that was enough

“Goodbye my love,” My mother said softly. “I’ll always be around.”

“Bye mum,” I smiled as she wiped away my tears. “I love you,”

“I love you too sweetheart,”

I waved goodbye, and with a spell, she was gone. I turned to go inside. The door clicked softly behind me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Professor McGonagall?” My brows pulled together. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

“This is a summons for you,” She held out a parchment, the usual stern look on her face was replaced with pity.

I took the parchment and opened it, scanning the delicate print. My heart sank.

“This is… this—“ I gaped.

“I’m afraid so,” McGonagall sighed. “There was nothing I could do,”

“Draco?” I called into the house. He was beside me in a moment. I handed him the parchment. “This is serious?” She nodded again.

“I’m sorry my dear,”

“A court summons? They’re putting her in trial!?” Draco demanded.

“Kingsley is very set on it. And he is the new Minister,”

“I saved the school! I helped defeat the Dark Lord! I—really!?” Tears pricked my eyes.

“There’s got to be some mistake,” Draco insisted. “She’s not a Death Eater, she doesn’t even have the mark!”

“I’m sure that the ministry will see that, but I’m afraid that I cannot do anything about the summons,”

I scrubbed my face and sighed. “Thank you Professor. Can I invite you in for some tea?”

“That’s very kind dear, but I’m afraid I must be on my way,” She bowed slightly then disaperated from the porch.

I stood there a while, lost in my thoughts. Draco gave me a gentle squeeze and kissed the crown of my head before disappearing inside. My feet took me off the wood of the porch and into the softness of the grass. I sank to the ground beside a fence post. The sun began to set. My eyes watched the horizon. Millions of thoughts swirled around my mind with no discernible direction.

Was there even a case for me to be innocent? Is this what everything I had worked for come to? To be seen as a criminal for holding a crumbling cause together?

____________________

“Where is she?” Abby asked, helping Pansy through the fireplace.

“Out front, watching the sunset,” Draco sighed, opening the front door. “She’s been out there a while,”

“Can’t imagine why,” Pansy muttered. “They’re seriously putting her on trial?”

“Yep,” Draco sighed. “All this time I thought I’d be the one, and yet…”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Abby kissed Pansy’s cheek. “You guys get to work,”

“Thank you, both,” Relief flooded Draco’s voice.

Abby snagged an old afghan off the back of the armchair and went out through the small meadow. She draped the blanket around your shoulders and sat beside you in the grass. You laid your head on her shoulder. She could see the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

“How—how could they do this?” Your weak voice held deep betrayal.

“I don’t know,” Abby answered honestly, taking your hand into hers. “But we’re not going to let them get away with it.”

“I don’t—I can’t defend myself in court—I,” You dissolved into tears. “Haven’t I done enough?”

“More than enough,” Abby affirmed. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna work it out—you’ll see,”

“How?” You asked.

“Well, you’ve gathered quite a few allies who owe you once or twice,” Abby pointed out. “And others who just love you anyway. Draco and Pansy are working on it now,”

“Wha—what?”

“We’re gonna build your case,” Abby promised. “And get you acquitted.”

“They’re…” A sad laugh left your lips. You laid back on the grass. Abby knew you were searching for the first stars in twilight.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abby smiled at you. “Just rest,”

The days past and my trial date approached like a storm on the horizon—but whether it was just rain or a hurricane, I couldn’t tell. Draco assured me that it would all be okay—he tried to tell me about everything done to build my case, but I wasn’t interested. Grateful, thoroughly, but I knew that if I learned anything about it, I would pick it up myself and try to fix it and my weary heart couldn’t handle that and keep beating like it was supposed to.

So, I dressed smartly and took Draco’s hand before we took the Floo to the Ministry. I kept my head low, and tears at bay.

Though Draco, Abby and Pansy accompanied me into the court room, I had to sit alone for the trial. The distance was drowning. I sat in the hard wooden chair, facing malice and prejudices. Kingsley looked almost predatory, as if he could pin the entire war on my shoulders, casting the blame on me.

I flinched as the charges were read against me. The list of dead was longer than I thought. I didn’t dwell on the days of the Battle of Hogwarts, nor the events that occurred. They haunted me in my dreams, make no mistake, but what was real and what was a nightmare I lost the ability to discern.

Was that much blood really on my hands?

My faith in myself began to waver. Maybe I did deserve to be locked up. A few years in Azkaban with dementors sucking my life force might make me forget what I had done.

Surprise flickered on my face as I saw Remus Lupin stand to my defense as an attorney. It was the first time that I had actually taken note of who was in the room. There had to be at least thirty people all gathered behind Draco and Pansy that I could see—more filed out the door in the back. All faces of those I loved, I had fought beside, I had grown up with.

The static in my ears tuned in and out of Lupin and Kingsley conversing. It wasn’t until their voices raised to shouting that the static was drowned out. My eyes flickered up from he thread in my hands.

“She cast unforgivables! She killed! She’s dangerous!”

“Death Eaters who were threatening our lives! The lives of wizard kind everywhere! She stopped a genocide!” Remus shouted back, obviously frustrated. “She showed remarkable strength and courage in a time of great darkness, and you will not diminish that.”

“They are unforgivables! We have laws for a reason!”

“If I may,” McGonagall stood and the entire room quieted. “That list of names that you read was a long list of Death Eaters who have either escaped from Azkaban, or are known Death Eaters and have killed before. Miss Y/n had very hard decisions to make. The ministry found itself incompetent for lack of a better word. She, along with her friends, engineered an army to face the Dark Lord. Over the years what she went through has turned her into who she is today. She fought along side the other heroes who stand before you. She will be counted among them. You would not punish an Auror for the same thing and you will not punish her.”

“But—” Kingsley was red in the face.

“If you put her in jail, you put the rest of the rebellion too,” The voice that piped up from the crowd surprised me. It was Harry. He stood and all eyes went to him. “Without her, I never would have been able to defeat Voldemort. Dozens more would be dead. You send her to Azkaban… then you’ll send me too,” A hushed gasp filled the room. A small one escaped my own lips.

“Mr. Potter,” Kingsley tried to regain control of the room.

“And me,” Abby spoke up.

“And me,” Neville stood.

Soon everyone around me was standing on my behalf. Pansy, Luna, Ginny, all of the Weasleys actually, Ernie, Hannah, Emme, Blaise, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Tonks, Remus, McGonagall, Moody, Sprout, Flitwick, and others I couldn’t see in the vast room. Kingsley faltered at the large defense behind me.

“You send her then you send each one of us,” Harry spoke clearly. “I’m your stupid chosen one, even if she did something wrong, don’t I have clearance to pardon her or something?”

A smile crossed my face. Intense silence stretched on consuming time and space until it was suffocating me.

“Very well,” Kingsley sank back into his chair. “Y/n you have been cleared of all charges and sentencing. You are free to go,”

Relief flooded through me as the room erupted in cheers. I met Draco’s eyes and he was smiling with pride. I collapsed back into that wooden chair in tears. There was a swarm of people around me, all making sure that I was alright, but they all parted for Draco to reach me.

“Love?” He asked softly, kneeling before me. “I’m here,” He pulled me into his arms and we shared the embrace of lovers. As I exhaled, the weight of the world fell to the floor.

I was free.

I was acquitted.

Now, I just had to find my innocence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Draco?” It was a crisp autumn morning. He looked up from the newspaper. “I’ve been thinking,”

He smiled and set down the paper, giving me his full attention. I almost wished he didn’t.

“I… I know it’s been a long road here… and since we’ve met it’s kinda been hell.” A sad laugh left my lips. “There’s a whole world out there Draco,” My eyes flickered to the willow growing outside the kitchen window.

“Yeah?” He prompted softly.

“Don’t you want to go see it? Be young and reckless and not have to feel like—like you’re running an entire school?” I gestured.

“I do,” He confessed softly. “We are still young Y/n, we have a long life ahead of us,”

“…You still want it with me?” I felt as if the oxygen was being vacuumed from my lungs. “We were just kids when we met Draco. We went through a war together—and now it’s over. The war. You don’t have to stay here,” This house was just as haunted as I was.

“What—where is this coming from?” Draco stood, rounding the small breakfast table. “I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you,” He took my hands into his. “So, let’s go travel the world together—learn who we are outside of the war.”

Hope sparked in my chest. “Really?”

He laughed softly. “Oh my darling, you are one of my best friends, I’ll go anywhere with you,” His words lured me to melt into his warm embrace. We sat on the kitchen floor. He stroked my hair softly.

“Just for a while,” I mumbled. “There’s so much we haven’t seen,”

“I know,” The smile was evident in his voice. “And it’s going to be incredible—and we’re going to learn how to heal along the way,” I nodded into his shoulder.

“I was thinking about maybe even living muggle for a little bit,” The confession was a weight from my shoulders. “I need space.”

“Okay,” His soft agreeable caught me off guard. “I think it would be good for both of us actually. And maybe even fun,”

I laughed softly as tears formed in my eyes. Leaning against him I watched the morning sun move across the wooden floor.

“I love you,” I whispered softly. “And if you… if I’m not…”

“Hush,” it was a soft reprimand. “I think you’re right. We need time away from it all. To find who we are away from it all,”

I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We’ll come back,” I promised.

“I know we will,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Knowing you, you’ll want to come back and help build a better system,”

My cheeks flushed red. I hadn’t told anyone about my ideas to make Hogwarts better—to make the Ministry better, hell to even make Azkaban better. It was time for things to change. I smiled to myself. Maybe I was more rebellious than I thought.

And yet, Draco knew—he knew all the little plans in my head that were hidden just for me. Being known felt like belonging—and I belonged with him.

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

Traveling with Draco would always be saved in my memories until I died, and when it started to slip, it would be saved into a pensieve. I wouldn’t forget.

We bought a muggle car and drove it until it felt right to stop. It wasn’t the famous places where we found ourselves, rather it was the forgotten places where we felt most at home. Where I could stand on a cliff edge and just scream and laugh and no one was around to hear me. Where Draco and I would sit at the edge of a river and send down leaves that held our biggest regrets, our losses, and our fears, learning to let go. Where we would sit in cafes and draw what we saw around us and enjoy pastries and tea. Where we could dance in the middle of a crowded room with other couples who didn’t know us from Adam.

But that is a story for another time.

For now, I’m sure you have a burning question that you’ve been waiting for me to answer.

And yes.

Draco did take me to go and see Phantom of the Opera in Paris like he promised.

Oh, and we got married.

But, again, that is a story for another time.

There is one last person I want you to meet before I close.

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

My heart caught in my throat.

“Draco?” I squeaked out, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Draco!”

“What? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was frantic, looking for danger.

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, looking at him in wonder. “Draco… I’m—“

“Holy harpies,”

Realization flickered across his face as it rose into an elated expression of joy. A victorious laugh as he scooped me up and twirled me around our lavish bathroom, in our muggle flat in the suburbs of London. His joy was contagious as I giggled in his arms, holding onto him. He set me down, stroking my face softly. Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Draco must have seen some fear linger in my stare. Some uncertainty that was well justified.

“The war is over,” Draco reassured drawing me back into his arms. “They’ll be safe. We’ll make sure of it,”

I nodded, curling my fingers into his sweater, my smile returning.

“I’m gonna be a mum,” I laughed.

“And you’re going to be absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“And you’re gonna be a great dad,” Tears pricked my eyes. “God, I don’t know the first thing about being a parent,” A nervous giggle left my lips.

“We’ll learn and figure it out,” He stroked my cheek softly, stealing another kiss.

A thousand parenting books, a baby shower, and a few doctors appointments later, Draco and I were curled up on the couch in our flat as the fire crackled in the hearth.

We had yet to settle on a name—to be fair we narrowed it down a lot, but with every new suggestion came a new round of anxiety that it wouldn’t be just right. It left me up at all hours thinking of it; so much so that Draco had to find a pregnancy safe sleeping potion so I could get proper rest.

“Elizabeth?” Draco mused, after my mother. I pursed my lips. It had been a suggestion that circled around.

“I’d like it as a middle name,” I decided, the thought had been mulling over in my mind.

“Okay done,” He smiled, reaching over to stroke my stomach before resuming his massage of my sore feet.

“Still need a first name.” I pondered, leaning my head against the back of the couch. “Narcissa?”

Draco snorted. “I’m not calling our daughter by my mothers name,”

My heart fluttered when he said our daughter.

“Well we need something,”

“How about Lucy?” That was a new suggestion: one not voiced by either of us.

“If that’s some way to get me to name her after your father I swear to Merlin—“

Draco burst out laughing shaking his head.

“Godric, no. Ugh,” he chuckled. “No, love, Lucy as in the first one to find Narnia. Ya know, that book you read to me all those years ago. The current theme of our nursery?”

“Oh,” my eyes widened at the thought, my heart softening. “Lucy,” I looked down, caressing my stomach when I felt something odd. Frowning I pressed my palm over the area. Draco caught my confusion and grew very concerned.

“What? Is she alright? What wrong?”

“Nothing,” I grinned. “She’s kicking—I think she likes her name,” I reached out for his hand and placed it in the same spot where mine resided as I felt her kick again.

“Hello little Lucy,” Draco whispered softly. “I can’t wait to meet you,”

Tears pricked my eyes as I watched him talk to her softly. And like every night, Draco got up and made me my tea that had Sleeping Draught in it—which he brewed specifically for me. It reminded me of our school days when he would spend class time brewing me anti-anxiety potions. It warmed my heart that his habit didn’t wane even with the years past.

That night my eyes fluttered open. I woke in the night, barely awake and ready to fall asleep again when I heard a soft voice. At first I thought Draco was trying to speak to me but I quickly realized that he was talking to someone else.

“You’re going to be one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the earth,” he murmured softly. “You’ll be kind and smart like your mother. You’re going to love her so much. We already love you so much.”

I let my eyes drift closed as a smile touched my lips. I resisted the urge to reach out and take Draco’s hand, in fear that he might become bashful about the situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small bundle of warmth rested on my chest, peacefully sleeping. My hand rose and cradled the small thing, tears pricking my eyes. My other hand was still clinging to Draco’s.

Lucy Elizabeth Malfoy.

There were tears in Draco’s eyes as he reached out and with the softest touch caressed her tiny head.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured. “You did so well,”

Exhausted, I let my eyes close, knowing that all was right with the world. Lucy would grow up in a world free from the threat of Voldemort and Draco would be by my side to protect her. We had already bled and fought and now we would make this new world we fought for, right for her.

A new legacy.

A new hope.

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nubisaureus · 1 year

Text

when you wear their jersey

how the haikyuu boys react when you wear their volleyball jersey

character(s): Oikawa, Tsukishima, Kuroo

pairing(s): fem!reader x timeskip!Oikawa, Tsukishima, Kuroo (separately)

contents: very suggestive language, nakedness, taunting, established relationship, shared house, implied marriage proposal

a/n: not proofread! I am currently sick so apologies if it's not that good but it's been such a long time since I had written about the haikyuu boys T^T

─────────────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───────────

Oikawa

(a/n I'm completely whipped for this fucker, I literally can't stop writing about him sdjkaskddks)

It had absolutely been a dream of yours to wear his jersey, ever since you two had started dating, so one time before a match you snatched it from his closet, and showed up at the game wearing it.

As he scored his first point, his eyes instinctively scanned the crowd, looking for your face. As he finally detected you, he was surprised to see what you were wearing, but ultimately smiled brightly, giving you a meaningful and eloquent look.

You gave him an innocent one, casually tying it in a knot, revealing your abdomen to him. His smile quickly turned into a grin, and you gave him a naughty smile.

Maybe it was just your impression, but during the rest of the game you noticed he was ever so slightly faster, more powerful and precise

Who would've thought wearing his jersey would've riled him up so much?

After the match, you two went home, but not before Tooru having to deal with a very feisty army of girls that were desperate for his attention.

Some of them did have his jersey as well, but it couldn't even compare to yours: it had Tooru's smell on it.

«So..someone wanted to show off today, huh?» he started, hooking a finger under the knot you had made, pulling you closer to him.

You looked at him through your lashes, faking an innocent attitude.

«I have no idea what you're talking about..I just liked this random t-shirt..» you faked even more, playing dumb.

He smirked, leaning into your charade.

«Oh, so if it's just a random t-shirt, then you wouldn't mind taking it off, right..?»

You panicked a bit, not wanting to take it off.

«To be honest, I'd like to keep it, thank you very much.»

«Oh, so you want to keep it on while I fuck you senseless?»

Tsukishima

You decided to wear his volleyball jersey to bed. It was just a random choice really, but when he came home later that night, you were met with his arched brows.

«Interesting choice of night outfit.» he commented, putting his duffel bag down, and slowly undressing, basically getting ready to shower.

You looked at him, your insides burning at the way he nonchalantly remained naked before you, except for his boxers.

«I hope for your sake that you're not wearing anything under it.»

And you weren't. You were feeling naughty that night, and besides, his jersey was so big compared to your body, that it was enough to cover up to halfway of your thigh anyway.

«Why don't you find out for yourself, Tsukki?» you taunted him, lightly stretching, making the hem of the skirt slide up, almost revealing your intimate parts.

He gave you an intense look. Even through his glasses, you could feel the intensity of his lust, and you were going to rile him up even more.

You beckoned for him to get closer, and he did, leaning his weight on the bed.

Your body was halfway covered by the bed sheets, but it didn't last long: he slid them down, and grabbed you by the ankles, making you slide all the way towards him, since you were so short compared to him (a/n who isn't though? boi is fucking 1.90 m, ffs).

The motion made the jersey slide all the way to your waist, revealing your lack of underwear.

«Would you look at that. Exposed, aren't we?» he taunted you, fingers trailing your thigh, making you shiver.

Maybe you would've worn his jersey more often, after all.

Kuroo

You wanted to surprise him a bit, so you decided to dig in the closet for his high school jersey.

«Found it.» and you put it on, finding out the Nekoma color scheme complimented your features quite well. What a nice added bonus.

As he came home from work, he found you casually working from home in his high school jersey and jeans, making your silhouette look phenomenal.

«Do my eyes deceive me, or are you wearing my high school jersey?» he asked, not sure whether to be confused or flattered, but then the latter option won.

He set the briefcase on the table, coming to you to hug you from behind.

«So?» he urged, wanting to know.

«I don't know, I just wanted to surprise you I guess? And having your surname on my back kinda feels nice too..»

«Oh?» you blushed, not sure how you had managed to actually say it out loud.

«Forget I said anything, I just don't know what got into me.» you swiftly take it back, but you can feel his smile on your neck, as he kisses the crook of it, in a sign of affection.

«Well, if you want my surname so badly, how cruel of me would it be to deny your request, my dear?» and you felt him take something out of his pocket.

You ended up crying of joy that night.

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codfanficedits · 5 months

Text

Before the mask - Part 1

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2033 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Author has daddy issues and not the sexy kind, listening to masturbation.

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish? Anyway, I didn't have loving parents and I am projecting here.

Being in the military had it’s perks, you were free from your parents, you had worked hard enough, long enough to be rewarded with your own little quarters, and it wasn’t much, but it was yours, enough to retreat after a long day, a hard mission, it was yours.

The downsides? The walls were paper thin, you could hear your neighbour shitting after taco night, but eventually you got used to it. You were just really lucky the neighbour of your right side was Simon. The two of you had been working together for a while now, and it was safe to say that you had become friends.

On the other side of the wall was indeed Simon. Simon who had promised himself to never get attached again. He had escaped his childhood home, and he wanted to keep himself from getting hurt again.

That was until you came along, you with your soft smile, with your sparkling eyes, your beautiful hair. And if you were just beautiful, he could’ve fucked you and ghosted you afterwards, but no, no you were not only pretty, you were kind, thoughtful, smart and sure as hell feisty.

Feisty enough to bite back when needed, to stand up for yourself or others, but sweet enough to remember his favourite sweets, or his birthday, and he could feel himself falling for you.

He realised it at breakfast, he had been wanting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren’t there, and for the first time, it felt as if something, someone was missing. A small piece of his soul being ripped away from him and he had to pretend all day that it didn’t bother him, while his mind was flooding with his worries. He didn’t recall there being any missions, and surely you would’ve told him if you were to be on leave? Or worse, leave the army?

He could feel the tension leave his shoulders when he finally saw you again, a scowl on your face when you left the toilets. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t heard your alarm go off this morning, and the fact that you were the only cleaning toilets told him that you had overslept. With a silent chuckle he promised himself that he would wake you up every morning, to safe you from such horror.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to confess, he just simply didn’t know how to. Every time he wanted to, every time he wanted those words to leave his lips, you just had to look up at him with those sweet, sweet eyes and he couldn’t. His voice would leave him, and his courage was nowhere to be seen, so he just kept quiet, tried to keep you close by telling you stupid jokes, army humour as he called it.

To make matters worse, the walls were thin, too thin, he could hear you stir in your sleep, he could hear you on those lonely nights where your hand wandered underneath your blanket, and he would promise himself to not listen to it, to give you that privacy, but after the third time he couldn’t. He just had to listen to make sure that you weren’t calling out his name, because if you did, he would’ve come to the rescue.

But you didn’t, not once did his name leave your pretty lips, just soft moans and whiny whimpers. It was enough for him, enough to make his own fist twitch in a desperate need for you, his hips bucking up in an attempt to keep his bed from creaking too much, he couldn’t have you hear him listen to you.

And tonight would be no different, Simon had made himself comfortable in his bed, waiting for your little ritual to start, his eyebrow raising when he didn’t hear those sounds he was so familiar with. Instead your voice was a hushed whisper and he couldn’t make out what you were saying. It frustrated him, who were you talking to, and why?

His blood ran cold when he could hear the loud laughter of a man, he kicked off his blanket, putting on his grey sweatpants before he left his room. Fist knocking on your door while he tried to calm himself.

You weren’t his, and he had no right to be so possessive over you, but what were you thinking? Seeking out the solace of another man while he was right there?

He would, of course, pretend that it would be about safety, did you know how dangerous it was to bring a random stranger into the base? Did you even think about it.

He knocked again, more urgent. “Open the door.”

You opened the door, an apologetic smile on your face. Your eyes fixate on Simon and he can feel the anger fading away. You looked so sweet, so innocent.

You on the other hand, had no clue what he was thinking, you had been on a skype call with your family, and in all your joy you had forgotten to keep track of your volume level.

"Was I too loud?" You asked. "I'm sorry."

His look is stern, his fingers clenched into an almost white-knuckled grip. Yet there's something else lurking on the verge of those eyes, the beginnings of something...painful, an emptiness from the core of his identity.

"Don't apologize," he replies softly. His voice, too, is low and breathy. But there's a calmness there, the lack of which would've set you on edge. "Just...let me in."

"Yeah sure, sure." You said as a response to his request. You stepped to the side, to let him in. "I'm on a Skype call with my family. My dad laughs really hard. So you might have heard him"

An idea pops up in your head, you knew a thing or two about his backstory, about his childhood. And it always made you really sad that he never experienced the true love a family could give.

"Want to say hi?"

"Mhm," is his only initial response, but as he steps inside your room, he's greeted by your smile, your soft, almost angelic eyes. Those, for a moment, have him mesmerized. He almost forgets what he's doing here. Then he remembers, when you offer him a chance to meet the people who bring you joy.

"Sure." He steps deeper inside your room, but he doesn't leave the door open, closing it behind him, so the two of you are tucked away in your own little world Your eyes light up. "Oh they're going to be delighted to meet you." You had told your parents about him plenty of times, maybe it was the little crush you had, maybe it was just because you were a nice person, who would know?

You grab his hand, dragging him along to your bed, urging him to sit down, before you placed your laptop on your lap, making sure the both of you are on screen.

"Mom, dad, this is Simon!"

He's never had a family like this of his own, and he's both nervous and curious about how they'll react. His expression, then, is one of curiosity. He's seated beside you, his hands clenched against his thighs, the only thing resembling a weapon, an automatic coping mechanism to keep him safe, just as you set the laptop up. His eyes are locked on the screen, the image of your parents on the other side.

You’re a mix of your parents, that much he can tell, and it is fun to see little pieces of them in you. Your father is a more social person, he smiles wide at Simon. Your mother is more reserved, but the smile of your father caused your mother to smile too.

"Good to meet you boy!"

For a moment, he doesn't respond. His eyes are glued to the screen, but they travel back and forth between your parents. The sight of them smiling genuinely, of them together...it fills him with an ache in his chest. And before he knows it, he's fighting back a few tears. God damn it, now is not the time to get all emotional.

He smiles. "It's nice to meet you too," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him as your gaze softens, it is the first time you have seen him so vulnerable, so you give him a little pat on his knee, a little encouragement.

"So." Your father continues. "You've been keeping my girl safe?"

He looks down at your hand for a few seconds, at your gentle touch. That, more than anything, is what makes him crack. He reaches out to grasp your hand, squeezing it a little harder than would be expected.

"I have," he replies in a strained voice, as if fighting with himself. "But, if you don't mind me saying so, she keeps me safe."

The comment gets rewarded with a laughter from your father.

"Ah yes. Our girl has always been a feisty one." You know the shimmer in your father’s eyes way too well and you groan. You have heard this story way too many times before.

"One time, when she was a little toddler, in kindergarten, one of the other kids, a boy, tried to kiss her, and she beat him with a plastic bucket."

The ghost of a small smile appears on Simon's face, although it's quickly replaced by another pang of that ache in his chest. The image...it's almost like seeing you as a kid again, although he never had the chance.

"How many stitches did the boy need?" He teases.

Your father chuckles, and you roll your eyes. You can tell he'll be bringing this up again in a few years, if not sooner.

"None." You grumbled. "But I did bust his lip before they pulled me off."

Your mother chuckled too. "She was such a cute little girl, but such a temperament."

After that your mother gets up, and gets out of your view for a second.

You lean towards Simon a little closer. "If she shows you my baby pictures, I'll lose it." You whispered softly, making sure your parents couldn’t hear.

And sure enough your mother returns, with a large picture book, holding it up for the camera.

It shows a picture of you, no older than four, hair in two pigtails and a big smile on your face, holding a blue bucket. "Can you imagine?"

Your parents aren't the only ones laughing at this memory, as Simon is chuckling softly at the sight of a younger version of you. His eyes are fixed on the picture, the two pigtails, how pure and innocent...

...until you remind him that he's sharing this moment with your family, and not the one he was born into. So he pushes it aside for a moment, and focuses on you. "It's a nice picture," he says softly.

You feel a little bad, knowing his upbringing wasn't the best one, and you give his a little squeeze, an apology and reassuring gesture in one.

Your mother is unaware of his internal struggle, as she holds up a new page. Five year old you in a pink tutu. "She refused to wear anything else for six days." Her mother and father laugh.

Your eyes are gentle, as you squeeze his hand back. And that, it softens the blow of what's happening. Your parents, the memories they share with you, it's something he has never experienced. But sharing it with you, that makes it real enough.

His expression softens as he see the new page. The pink tutu, that smile...He’s almost jealous again.

"She looks so beautiful," He whisper. And his voice, it's filled with that same longing for love.

The gaze of your father softens, a proud smile on his face. "She is."

"I know she can take care of herself but.." her father gets cuts off by the sound of the doorbell. "Excuse me for a second." He said, as he got up.

Your mother closes the picture album. "You know Simon, next time you two are allowed on leave you should come with her."

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prongslvl · 1 year

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TAKE A BOW — count vronsky

PAIRING alexei vronsky x fem!reader

SUMMARY a letter of invitation that causes vronksy turmoil in the arms of his affair, leading him into madness.

a/n: my first request! also my first time writing for vronsky, so if my characterization seems off i am so sorry! i also tried to make my writing sophisticated (?) to fit the vibes of the movie. thank you for the request, reader! happy reading.

you were never one to believe in baseless rumors, especially when they came from mouths you had no interest in or connections with.

it's been a month or less since alexei vronksy, the man who asked for your hand in courtship, was the city's topic. the relationship between you and alexei was quite known because the man himself announced that your hands were his to hold. that's why the women at parties gather around you, either asking questions or expressing their sympathies. it only made your heart shatter and your head dizzy.

you followed the advice of your father to stay at home and try to contact the count. your mother tells you to ignore their words.

you tried, you really did.

eyes closed from the sympathetic yet mocking eyes of the people, ears shut at whispers, and mouth closed to refrain yourself from lashing out on an aristocrat's wife.

you knew there was nothing left to do to stop all of this when your father himself, who also helped with looking for answers with his men in petesburg, revealed that these lies that ran through your mind were indeed factual. it took several days of weeping, anger, and devastation before you eventually calmed down and collected yourself, to say the least.

your family was respectful enough to leave you alone with your endeavors, with maids and butlers taking turns to give you a little bit of nutrition every day. they report to their master how his daughter was stuck in her bed, lost in thought, and refusing to consume anything.

how could you, really?

the man who swept you off your feet came back home to you in the form of a rumor that was later revealed to be true; an affair with a married woman. your father knew karenin through business, and you can only recall his stoic expression from when you met him as a child.

alexei has always been a man of escape; he finds ways to relieve himself of the pressure of being a count, an army officer, and the child of a countess. he told you countless times,

"you are my escape; you are my happiness." the same words he spoke to you as he slid the gift into your hand he brought for your birthday.

it became a habit to look at your hands, specifically the finger where a ring from vronsky lies. everytime you remove it out of disgust and hatred, your pathetic little love-sick heart desperately looks for it after. it was a cycle—a cycle your mother knew you'd be stuck in forever if she didn't interfere.

when you finally gathered up the strength to dine with your family, who acted as if nothing had happened, they carried on with their usual conversation. they didn't take notice of you before your mother suddenly brought up your brother's upcoming wedding anniversary. she reminisces about the grand wedding when her eyes land on you. it wasn't hard to understand what she was doing; even with your dazed state, you were able to get the idea.

apparently, a man in yaroslavl wished for your hand in marriage way before alexei did. you only had a bit of memory of the aristocrat; you were too busy fawning over count vronsky to remember.

"he is a good man. his father was of great help to us through the years. he'd be more than thrilled to be wedded to you." your father says it, and your mother nods along with a caring smile.

"but my heart doesn't yearn for him, father. how can i wed a man i barely know?"

"we are not forcing you to marry him right away, darling." your mother placed down her utensils as she spoke, saying, "feel free to go at a pace you deam correct." your mother was quick to reply, holding your hand. at this point, you have nothing but yourself to lose. all of your decisions up until now were only based off of count vronsky and regret is an understatement.

"i'll think about it, mother. thank you to both of you." your voice was meek, strained from all the tears you'd shed for the past week.

nothing could've prevented him from seeing your name with another man, much less being supposedly about to be wed to one. vronsky's calloused fingertips carefully caress the name of the women he bestowed his life and soul to and whom he also betrayed by receiving this letter from the love of his life.

arms snake around his torso, a slim figure resting against his back. he could feel her breath against his bare body. "you're taking quite a while to get back; is something the matter?" he folds the letter immediately, almost crushing it between his palms in anger. without hesitation, vronksy removes the same hands he desperately craved throughout his journey.

he felt anguished by the memory of you. the thought of your smile directed at some bastard aristocrat made his vision blurry. he saw you as a challenge, a spite against your father, who wronged him long ago. "you were nothing but entertainment," he tells himself. '"but how can mere entertainment is causing him so much pain?"

a click of a door made him realize his current position on the cold floor of the hotel; he was on his knees, holding the letter for dear life. the silence in the room made it clear that anna had left. who would want to stay with a man she sacrificed everything for, only for him to grovel at another woman?

at that moment, it didn't bother him. everything that happened in moscow, that led to petesburg was gone like the wind. your name was a mantra inside the army officer's head, as if repeating it over and over again would make you appear in front of him.

vronsky glances at the letter once again, his eyes scanning for when and where this matrimony will begin. it was back in moscow in about a month, when you'll be forever stuck with a man who isn't him. when he finally got up from the ground, put on his uniform, and bought the earliest ticket to moscow, it was like anna never came into his life.

he could feel the distasteful eyes of men who used to laugh next to him and women who followed him around like a shadow. now that he was out of the hotel where he stayed with anna, it made it obvious for him to realize how fast the news got to you and how long you've been planning this marriage. he doesn't know if he was angry at you or at himself. but one thing alexei knew was that this wedding couldn't happen.

alexei wasted no time getting to your home, getting on his horse as soon as he left the train station.

he rang, knocked, and even shouted your name. it took a few more screams before you finally appeared before his eyes.

you gasp as he kneels to your feet, grabbing onto your dress with his fist. no words can describe what you feel at the sight of him trembling and practically digging his fingers into your dress at how tight his grip was.

"please, don't do this." alexei's voice whimpers, looking up at you with the same eyes that captivated you in the first place. "i'll do anything that you wish. "i've created a mistake that has hurt you—hurt us, so please..." he took your silence as a chance to stand up on his feet and caress your cheek.

"leave him," he finishes, tears stained and weak.

his words felt like knots in your stomach, but it wasn't butterflies that caused it. it was different from what you've always felt when he gently cups your cheeks and looks at you with such intent that any lady would be weak in the knees.

the calloused hands that lay on your skin felt like poison. these same hands that grab on to you so dearly and so desperately are the same ones that held that women. you didn't feel anything but disgust.

"what you did didn't hurt you, count vronsky. you hurt your mother, your men, the people who treated you as a friend, and..." your lips tremble as you continue, "and the women who actually loved you. not temptation nor a challenge. i loved you like my other half."

alexei's eyes wagged at the word 'loved', preparing a response, but your words cut him off before he could blabber on.

"but you have proved me wrong." he could see the eyes that held love for him fueled with anger. you removed his calloused fingers from your face, creating a distance between the two of you.

"please, my lady, you are—"

"you're happiness?!" his voice somewhat triggered you to shout, with veins popping out of your neck at how loud you were. the people who tried their best to sneak glances at the commotion finally had the reason to stop and look at the two of you.

"how many times have you told that woman the same thing, alexei!?" a hand lands on your bare shoulders, and you see your fiance with a worried expression on his face. "i no longer have a reason to let you take my hand, so please, count vronsky, muster up all the pride that you have left for yourself, and leave."

you intertwine your hands with your future husband, who looks down at you with a worried smile and then a scowl at the dazed man. as you were about to close the door, a strong force stopped you.

"i will not allow this, never." vronsky's voice was mixed with loathing and somberness, the two combinations that covered his heart as he stared at the hands that used to hold his.

"i believe you do not have a say in this." your fiance retorts.

the blonde man scoffs, "my very being is my right."

"and i'll use my every being to get rid of everything that you have, up until you come crawling back to me, just like you always do."

his tone, sweet yet laced with venom, made your grip on your fiance's hands tighten. alexei tries to touch you once more, and your instinct to step back comes over you. a bitter laugh came from his mouth, and his eyes fixed solely on you as he slowly left. you let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding as you followed his figure disappearing from the distance.

#alexei vronsky #count vronsky #count vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky x reader #anna karenina #anna karenina fanfiction #atj #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #vronsky x reader

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ciaonicole85 · 6 days

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Part 1: What then?

Some seemingly innocent, but truly mind-altering information is shared in a staff meeting.

Short fan fic. Low-key Sydcarmy/The Bear fluff. Post-season 2. Canon-compliant.

Location: The Bear

Time: 10:05 a.m.

The restaurant had closed lunch service on a Tuesday for a "Development Day". The Bear had been open for 5 months and had a 2 month wait list! After Family and Friends when they had all banded together the Bear crew had gotten tighter than ever. Carmen had been a outsider in his own restaurant for a couple weeks, but soon the dust settled. Even Sydney came around after 3 weeks of his patient groveling. The duo was good and soon The Bear had become one of Chicago Tribune's "Best New Restaurants." However, with success The Bear was changing fast. They had hired more full-time front and kitchen staff, which was great. The downside was that "respectful communication" and "customer complaint management" was waning a little. Things were not terrible, but Richie for whom Ever set the bar in hospitality, The Bear should always be improving, not sliding backwards. Natalie, Carmen and Sydney agreed. They also wanted to discuss new menu changes and a to-go system they would be testing soon.

"Okay, people! Let's get started" Natalie said beckoning everyone to take a seat at the front of house.

Richie stood next her "casually dressed" in a button down blue dress shirt and dark grey slacks.

He began, "As you know The Bear is on track to paying off the loan and we're the freakin' toast of the town right now, but this is not the time to take a nap. We gotta keep our eyes on the prize. So first, up facial regulation as known as RBF awareness."

Natalie tapped his shoulder and whispered, "Richie, I love your enthusiasm, but I thought we might start with an ice breaker?"

He shrugged and continued, "But Nat, has a ice breaker. Take it away".

Natalie resumed.

"So, first we want to thank each of you for being part of this dream and making it fun, rewarding, and successful. As you know The Bear is a family business and since there's new faces here we'd like to get to know you better and vice versa. We'll start with a quick round of "Best and Worst". Just pick a question out of the cup and answer it. Please keep your answers to 2 minutes."

The first question went to Randall, a young man in his early 20's with dark curly hair and thick glasses that frequently fogged in the humid kitchen. He was the new assistant pastry chef.

"What was the best place I ever lived? Hm…Guam. My dad, Army, was stationed on the base and I lived there from age 9-11. I had like 12 friends just on my block and we were always playing soccer, swimming, or riding our bikes. It was awesome."

"Thanks Randall!" Natalie chirped.

The next went to Tina.

"Ok…what is worst advice I've ever been given? Keep your head down and do what you know. That's the advice I used to give myself. Thankfully I didn't listen because now I'm a sous chef!"

Sydney who was sitting near the front between Gary and Carmy, beamed at Tina who returned the smile with a little moisture in her eyes.

The next question went to Marcus.

"Best moment in the last year? It was training at Noma, in Copenhagen. It was my first international trip. I got to stay in a houseboat, explore the city, meet cool people, and figure out that I wanted to do this maybe forever."

The last several months had been really hard due to Marcus's mom's passing. He had returned to work after a week of mourning citing that he knew she wouldn't want him to sit at home now that she was no longer sick. Despite that he was getting better every day and had come up with several new popular dessert specials. Tina was seated next to him and patted his arm.

The next few questions went to new dishwasher, Chris, Fak, and then Gary.

Sydney drew the next question and winced upon reading it. It wouldn't be possible to lie because Marcus already knew the truth.

"What was my best meal ever? Well…it was this pork confit with onions and rhubarb. Then after I had this dish called Milk and Honey."

She kept her eyes plastered on the tiny strip of paper while she spoke. In her peripheral field she could see Carm turning slightly towards her, his cornflower blue eyes boring two holes into the side of her head.

"Sounds grand. Ok, Carmy pick a question" Richie ordered wanting to get down to business by 10:30am.

Carmy didn't seem to hear him. He was on another planet.

"Yo cuz, pick a question!"

He startled and drew a question.

"Uh ok. Best part of my day? Hmmm. Closing up."

It was now Sydney's soul's turn to exit her body. Every night, with few exceptions, she and Carmy ended the night in his office to debrief on the day, perform last checks, and close together.

After a moment she felt his eyes still glancing at her. Without turning she whispered, "Later." The last thing she needed was to look at him, and forget how much time was passing, giving Richie yet another reason to tease them. Not long ago he gave them matching copies of a workplace relationship etiquette tip sheet stapled to an OSHA industrial hygiene handout before leaving them to close.

She sighed, trying to compose herself. It was no big deal. So what that Carm knew he was responsible for the best thing she ever ate? Also, they're partner-friends so it's totally normal that his favorite time of day when is they are together…alone. Right?

UH OH.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #it's a love story #brain rot #they are so cute #if they can just stare some more in season 3

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kasagia · 6 months

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Innocent

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're not like the other Grishas. It took you some time to master your power, but you're still unsure of your control over it. That's why it scares you when you're chosen for a special mission in Fjerda. Luckily your general cares about all his people... or at least about you... actually way too much, but you're not going to complain at all. Requested by: @dreampissybaby I hope you like it! 😊💙🖤 Warning(s): the reader is unsure of herself; the reader does not want to kill (but is ultimately forced to for Aleks); blood; mentions of murder; sharing body heat, Aleks comforts the reader; Words count: 5,7 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

The time has come. Your first mission.

You spent years in the Little Palace training, going to classes with other heartrenders, practicing under the supervision of Baghra and Botkin. And you had potential. You were the most powerful of all the heartrenders in the Little Palace...

There was only one 'problem' with you.

You didn't kill. Nor control your powers as you should.

You were supposed to be a healer. This is what you always wanted as soon as your Grishas powers as Corporalki manifested. But due to fate and the fact that there was a greater demand for heartenders in the Second Army than for healers, you became someone you did not want to be. You were supposed to take lives, not heal or save them, and you never really came to terms with that.

Not that anyone asked for your opinion. Certainly not Baghra, although she was one of the few who noticed that the problem with mastering your powers was in your head and not due to lack of control or powerlessness. Which didn't mean she didn't give you a hard time at every training session you had. You would rather have Botkin's training than spend your time in that's hag's hut.

That's why you laughed at Fedyor when he told you that he chose you as a replacement for Ivan (who was unexpectedly sent on another mission) as an additional heartrender for their secret mission in Fjerda.

"Very funny. Be careful, you start to adopt Ivan's sense of humor." you say, walking with him towards your rooms after sparring together. However, you start to get a little worried when he doesn't respond to your taunt. "Saints, Fedyor, it was a joke, right?"

"You have to go on your first mission someday. Besides, it will be an easy and simple task. We'll do some spying and go home. A few weeks and you'll be back in the Little Palace, and I promise I'll watch over you."

"Have you lost your mind?! I will get stressed, reveal my powers, and the Fjerdans will skin us faster than you can eat sweets from the palace kitchen." you lament, imagining all the worst-case scenarios.

"Nothing will happen. Besides, general is coming too. With him, no Fjerdans or Drüskells will attack us." you freeze at his words, realising how much worse your situation suddenly is with this one statement.

"What?!" you ask, but Fedyor has already disappeared into his and Ivan's room.

You start to get even more nervous. Since you had relatively completed the most important parts of your training, you were often at either Fedyor's or Ivan's side, 'improving' your skills and getting used to your new role in Little Palace.

This also meant often being near General Kirigan's side. Who was dangerously becoming more and more curious about you (at least that was what Fedyor was telling you in great secrecy.)

And his unexpected interest in your abilities only grew when Ivan blurted out to him that Baghra was also training you to be a healer, not only a heartrender. You don't know if this little act of mercy by the old witch was to help you overcome the internal conflict inside you since you put on the red-black kefta of a heartrender or if it was another one of the woman's ways of ruining others' lives.

Anyway, one day you walked into Kirigan's war room behind Ivan and the Black General's dark eyes, and instead of being glued to the maps and reports in front of him as usual, they were focused only on you. A shiver ran through you as you felt his piercing gaze on you. He seemed to be assessing your capabilities based on the rumours that Ivan and his men had been feeding him. You knew that he was judging how useful you could be to him. You held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the maps on the table, hiding slightly behind Ivan as he began to give him the most important information from the camp closest to the fold.

Since then, you've been seeing him more and more. Be it on your way back from Baghra's hut to the palace, in the library, or even late at night in the gardens or other parts of the Little Palace when you never expect him to appear.

He was always polite and nice. He spoke to you in such a gentle and calm tone, so different from the way he spoke to other Grishas, that it took you a moment to adjust to the soft side he was giving you. You didn't expect that the Darkling would ever be understanding of your insecure, shy nature or try to help you control your powers and come to terms with them by giving you small advice and even giving you accessories from Materialki, which allowed you to feel more confident while using your little science and controlling others hearts, bodies, and minds.

But that didn't matter anymore. Any sympathy or hope he had for you and your powers would end in the coming days when he saw that you were actually a nobody and were only wasting your power, which someone else could better use than you.

You might as well start preparing to be sent across the fold to Western Ravka and certain death at the hands of the volcras.

With trembling hands, you tied your small bag to the saddle of your horse. Fedyor, Zoya, Inferni, and Tidemaker, whose names you didn't know, were also preparing their horses to leave.

You were about to leave the Little Palace in a few minutes. The only person missing was General Kirigan.

Which made you very happy. You had trouble tying that damned bundle so it wouldn't fly off your horse's back. You weren't going to ask anyone for help and show how weak and hopeless you were in the group from the very beginning. You won't be defeated by something like this. If you were going to embarrass yourself, at least in a fight… or at least not before you set out.

But as always, you must have been unlucky.

"What are you doing here?" the general's question didn't make you the only one to freeze. The rest of your companions also stopped what they were doing and now looked at you with interest while you were trying to calm down your beating heart and respond to the Darkling. You turn to him and hold your little bundle of belongings that you failed to tie to your horse behind your back, so he can't see it.

"Fedyor thought I would be suitable for this task and appointed me as a second heartrender, sir." you reply without looking him in the eyes.

"He did?" he asks unemotionally, turning his gaze to your friend. You swallow nervously, waiting for his next words.

"Yes, General. Y/N is doing better and better. It's time to test her beyond the walls of the Little Palace, so she can use her power in a more beneficial way." Fedyor responds as your main "mentor". If you were brave enough to raise your head, you would surely give him a grateful look for the confidence with which he assured the general of your readiness.

"Well then." The general nods. You see him send a stern look at the rest of the Grishas, who are still staring. They immediately go back to their preparations.

You mentally curse as the horseboy leaves the general's horse next to yours. You try your best to ignore him as you continue to tie the damned bundle with trembling hands to your horse. And at the same time, you try to reject the uncertainty and doubts that began to grow even more intensely in you after the general's question.

"I don't see you being particularly excited about your first mission." the general's remark made you turn your head towards him. You shivered as soon as you realised his piercing gaze was directed straight at you. "Nervous?"

"A little." you admit, glad he's not a heartrender and can't hear your heart beating madly. You're about to have a heart attack here... if you don't first make a fool of yourself and cry from helplessness in front of the general. You were so pathetic...

You are brought out of your dark thoughts by the sudden presence of someone behind you. The general's warm, large hands gently take your bundle with your things from your hands and tie it to the horse's side. And if you didn't know better, you'd think he was extending the moment on purpose, just to keep you pressed against his chest, embraced by his arms, a little longer.

"You don't have to." he whispers, responding to your earlier words, and pulls away from you as if nothing had happened. He went to finish his preparations for the road himself, leaving you with the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck.

You get goosebumps and feel your cheeks heat up. Your hands tingle in the place where the general's hands were on them a moment ago. And your traitorous mind imagines what it would be like to feel his touch entirely somewhere else.

You shake your head and get on your horse, praying to the saints to help you survive this journey with dignity. Or at least that you'll come back alive. After all, you should keep your expectations low.

Surprisingly, you managed to survive the first week without any relative disasters. It was more than you could expect from yourself. Things may not have gone as you expected, but at least you all managed to ride safely through Ravka to the border with Fjerdans.

But every day you got closer to the border, your fear grew more and more.

You set up camp in the forest, each following your established routine. The General and Fedyor went out scouting, exploring the surrounding areas, when the rest of you were setting up a small camp and trying to hide it from human eyes as much as you could.

You were feeding and watering the horses when you suddenly heard a heartbeat next to you. You didn't even try to explain to yourself how you knew or when exactly you started to recognise General Kirigan's heartbeat. It just happened over time. And you didn't have the courage to admit to yourself that it meant something more.

The general took one apple and gave it to his black stallion, tenderly stroking its muzzle. You couldn't hide your small smile at how gentle he was with his horse (whose name was, ironically, Nightfall).

The black bastard even had his mane braided by him. Not that you watched closely as his hands braided it for the whole 6 minutes before Fedyor noticed and started teasing you about how your heart would go into failure from pumping blood so fast. You had never considered being a horse, but in that moment...

"Anything funny, Captain?" he asks, and if you hadn't learned over the course of this week the difference in the tone of his voice when he was teasing, you would probably have died of fear there.

"Nothing, General." you reply with a smirk, laughing in your head at your own ridiculousness and the stupid attraction you had for him. "How long do we have to be in Fjerda?"

"Until we get what we came here for. But I think it will take us two weeks at most. The Little Palace can't stay unattended for long."

You nod, partially satisfied with his answer. But you can't shake that unsettling feeling that something bad will definitely happen by then. Either you ruin the entire mission or you die miserably at Fjerdans' hands, revealing your powers in enemy territory.

"What's wrong?" His voice breaks you out of your thoughts better than the hand he suddenly wraps around yours. After thinking about it for a while, his touch shouldn't be that familiar to you.

"Nothing, General. I was lost in thought." you lie, trying to hide your insecurities and fear by looking down at your hands because you know he can read people like an open book.

"Don't insult my intelligence. I won't be convinced by such a flimsy excuse, and you definitely have better, more persuading answers." he takes a step towards you and gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his piercing, dark brown eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I..." you stutter as you get lost in his eyes, which are studying you so intently, as if the answer to his questions were written in your eyes.

And for a moment, you want to tell him.

You want to say that you are afraid of your powers and that you don't know if you will be able to control them when you are in a critical situation and help others. That you don't know if you'll ever get used to the role you've been thrust into. That you don't belong, and even his soothing presence isn't worth the stress, anxiety, and uncertainty you're going through every day. That you want to be someone completely different, but you know that you can't be a brat and throw away an opportunity that thousands of Grishas in your place would gratefully accept.

But you can't show him that you're broken...

"Y/N. Talk to me." he says firmly.Worry and concern are obviously written on his face, and it irritates you that you are unaware of what's causing it. That you don't know why he even cares to notice, let alone ask you what's bothering you.

"It's nothing serious. You shouldn't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine, sir." you say it emotionlessly and move away from him. You turn your back at him and start to comb your horse's mane.

But he doesn't give up. He places a hand on your shoulder and holds it in a tight grip, turning you back to face him.

"Something's clearly bothering you. You're going to tell me this now and here. This is no longer a question, Captain." if possible, his eyes will become even darker. But he's not the only one who's starting to get mad. Unlike him, you can't keep your emotions bottled up inside you so well.

"Why do you even care?! I'm just a captain, another one of your heartrenders; you shouldn't care about me at all!" you shout at him, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. Ivan would have a heart attack if he saw you talk with the general.

But Kirigan also seems to forget that you should be more respectful towards him... or maybe he's relieved that you're not as afraid of him as everyone else, and this new revelation is refreshing for him.

"It's not up to you to judge what I should care about. Even a blind person could see that you've been behaving strangely for a week and that something is tormenting you. Your hands tremble more often, you are more silent and paler, you eat less, your eyes no longer shine like they used to when Fedyor teases you, dark circles start to appear under your eyes, and every night I hear you rolling over next to me on your sleeping place. So you are going to tell me now what's wrong, so I can fix it."

His long speech leaves you stunned. You didn't realise that he noticed things like that or that he watched you closely enough to find a difference in your behavior. And what bothered you most was the reason why the Black General knew you so well.

And you probably would have crumbled in pieces there in front of him and poured out all your insecurities and fears on him if the sudden crunch of branches hadn't caught your attention.

You didn't even have time to blink before you were behind the general. He holds your arm with one hand, making sure you stay behind him so he can shield you from any danger. And in the back of your mind, despite how enchanted you were by his closeness, the thought occurs that you should be the one protecting him...

Then he threw his dagger in the direction the sound came from. After a while, a painful groan echoed through the clearing.

"Fedyor?!" you ask and run out from behind the general when you recognise your friend's voice. You disappear behind the trees, finding the heartrender, who was wearing a regular cloak (you had to drop your keftas since you were getting closer to Fjerdans), leaning against a tree and holding his arm where the dagger was embedded. "What the hell?! You scared us!"

"Well, you're not the one with the dagger stuck in you. It was starting to get dark; the others sent me to get you, since we are practically on Fjerdans' territory."

You nod and help him sit on the ground. After a while, the general appears behind you. You see him blush awkwardly, realising who his dagger hit.

"My apologies, Fedyor. You shouldn't have sneaked up on us like that, though."

You take the opportunity to have your back turned to him and roll your eyes at him. While Fedyor is busy answering him, you quickly take the dagger out of him. He hisses in pain and gives you an offended look.

"What? Would you rather I count to three?" you ask sarcastically, pulling back his coat and lifting up his shirt to place your hands on his wound. Blood sticks to your fingers, staining the sleeves of your shirt.

"The last time you did that, you took the arrow out of me before you could count to two." he grumbles as you begin to heal him, the wound tingling unpleasantly as it closes up.

"I don't remember you complaining when I let you eat my chocolate cookies later. At least I wasn't the first to get hurt; you should be proud of me as my mentor." you don't miss the general's quiet chuckle behind you as you taunt with your friend.

"Come on, veteran." he pats Fedyor on his health shoulder. "Let's get back to camp before they send a whole search party after us, shall we?" he asks, his dark irises trained on you, watching as you let go of Fedyor's arm, which is fully healed now.

The general extends his hand towards you and helps you up. He doesn't shy away from grabbing your bloody hand; he holds it even tighter, making sure it doesn't slip away from his grip. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fedyor give you a significant look. You roll your eyes at him.

"Here." the general says, and he hands you his black handkerchief to wipe the blood from you. But before you can take it from him, he catches your hands in his and wipes the red liquid from your hands himself. "Allow me." he whispers, looking into your eyes. Blushing, you realise that Fedyor is long gone from sight, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"Thank you." you clear your throat, feeling his fingers gently wipe the blood from your hands. And you feel ashamed, admitting to yourself that this simple touch makes you shiver.

"You should change that shirt when we come back."

You look at your shirt and see that it's stained with Fedyor's blood. You wrinkled your nose, knowing this was your last shirt. You will have to stay in it until you reach a village where you can buy a new one.

"I'll be fine," you say, trying to change the subject. You don't want to seem even weaker than you already are in his eyes.

The general frowns but says nothing more as you return to camp. And if he thought you didn't notice that he was still holding your hand and keeping you close to him as he walked lightly in front of you, he was sorely mistaken. You were glad that no one was around to hear your heartbeat and that his fingers avoided the place on your wrist where he could feel your racing pulse.

If anyone else notices that there is blood on your shirt, they don't comment on it. You go through your evening chores, and finally, after hours of driving and being on your feet, you lie down.

You put your small travel bag under your head and are about to go to sleep when suddenly you hear the rustle of fabric falling next to you.

You open your eyes and stare in surprise at the black shirt that is clearly an intruder. A shiver runs through you as you feel someone's burning gaze on you. You look up and see the general sitting a few steps away from you, watching you carefully.

If the delicate, skin-friendly material or colour of the clothes didn't give you a clue as to who they might belong to, then the look in those hypnotising dark eyes that didn't leave you until you took the clothes in your hands was an eloquent suggestion of the shirt's owner.

And after the intoxicating smell that engulfed you as you changed in a secluded place, you were even more overwhelmed by this unexpected gesture, knowing full well that you shouldn't recognise his scent that easily. Or wanting it to stay with you for a long time.

You walk back to camp and ignore the smirk Fedyor gives you as he stands guard by the fire. You lie down in your place and pull the blanket tighter over you, wrapped in a cocoon, with the general's scent wafting around you.

You shiver, feeling the chill of the night despite it. You roll the oversized sleeves of the Kirigan's shirt around your hands, limiting the air from reaching your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the others move closer to each other, taking advantage of the warmth of each other's bodies.

You sigh, realising that it will be a few hours before you can do the same to Fedyor once he stands off his watch. Now you had to endure the cold that was starting to sting your cheeks and slowly seep into your uncovered skin.

You roll from side to side a few times, trying to find the best position to limit your heat loss, until you are stopped by strong arms that suddenly wrap around your stomach and press you against the hard and warm wall. You blush as you realise from the pounding heartbeat behind you that you're pressing against SOMEONE'S chest.

"It's a cold night." he whispers, his warm breath on the back of your neck making you shiver. "Do you mind, milaya?"

You shake your head slowly. You knew that right now you would do anything what he would ask of you. And you were both terrified and excited about that damn exhilarating closeness with him as he was sharing his warmth with you.

"Thank you, general." you whisper into the night, afraid to turn and look at his face lit only by the flames of the fire and the light of the stars, because you know that if you did, you would be lost for good.

You close your eyes, trying to protect yourself a little from your obvious feelings for him—the man you will never truly have.

"Call me Aleksander." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He takes this as a sign that you're cold and ends up pressing you closer to him, so that you feel every inch of his body touching you.

He could have anyone. And you knew both yourself and his habits too well to pull the wool over your eyes that you could ever be someone more to him... but that didn't mean you didn't enjoy this momentary attention he was giving you.

You relax and lean into him more as he buries his nose in your hair and falls asleep. His rhythmic heartbeat and breathing, his scent that immediately makes you feel safe and protected, and the warmth that floats around the two of you curled up against each other, lull you to sleep.

After all, it was a cold night. And General, contrary to all the rumours you've heard, turned out to be very warm... at least when he held you protectively close to his chest.

Fedyor watches the two of you with a mischievous smirk, knowing full well that he'll be teasing you with this the next day. He already knew what he would write to Genya and Ivan in his next letters.

Your informant did a good job. He perfectly determined the location of the hidden cellar in the Fjerdans' forest, where their soldiers' base was.

It took you several days to prepare. You were supposed to break in, steal the necessary plans and reports, and get out of there before anyone noticed you. Of course, everything went to hell as fast as it was possible.

At one point, you scattered, each trying to find a way out on your own, when one of the soldiers detected Inferni, who was with you and was using his powers to warm himself up.

You didn't know what happened to him in the end. Or with Aleksander, the rest of the group.

You ran forward, towards the exit you remembered, avoiding all heartbeats along the way.

You're walking down corridor after corridor, corner after corner, when suddenly someone grabs your elbow and pulls you towards him, keeping a hand over your mouth to block out any sound from you. You struggle for a moment until you hear a quiet whisper that haunts you both at night and in your dreams:

"It's me, milaya." you freeze in place at the sound of his soothing whisper in your ear. You turn around, wanting to make sure your mind isn't playing any tricks on you, and sigh in relief when you see Aleksander's concerned face in front of you.

"Where's the rest?" you ask, swallowing, trying to calm yourself down and maintain an appearance of composure in front of him. Even though your heart was now beating like crazy with fear.

"Fedyor and Zoya are outside. I'm not sure about the others." he says, taking your elbow and pushing you to the side of the hall so that you're more shielded from anyone's view. You frown, processing his words while he looks around to see if you can leave your hiding place and continue on your way to the exit.

"You came back for me?" you ask, trying to catch his gaze to read something in his impenetrable eyes.

You see the gears stop in his head, all thoughts of your escape and safety being forgotten as he stares at you, speechless.

You've never seen him like this. No words, no wise comment or answer. He just stood there and stared at you. A blush slowly took over his cheeks, and after hearing his heartbeat quicken, you had never been happier that he had technically forced you to qualify as a heartrender.

"Aleksander?" you whisper questioningly, waiting for any word from him that will either confirm your suspicions and make your wildest dreams come true or make him break your heart more than the most powerful heartrender could ever do.

You hold your breath when, after a moment of internal struggle that is going on inside him for some reason, he takes a step towards you and confidently cups your cheek with his hand.

"Y/N... I... For a very long time... I haven't met someone like you. I've never wanted to meet again. I've lost so many... But you... you make me question everything I promised myself a long time ago."

You see pain and longing in his eyes. You have no idea what he's been through or why he feels the way he does now, but you are sure of one thing. And you are ready to promise him this one thing, regardless of any consequences.

"You won't lose me." you whisper, looking into his teary eyes. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent. You shiver as your noses touch, brushing gently.

You open your eyes only to see Fjerdan behind him, pointing a gun at you two. You are both without your keftas, but you know that the Fjerdans know how the Darkling looks like and can recognise him.

You act automatically. You push Aleksander away and link your arms, stopping the man's heart in front of you before he can even put his finger on the trigger of his gun. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and a deafening, terrifying silence reigns in the corridor. The smell of blood irritates your nostrils.

You lower your hands shakily, only to realise that you've done more than stop his heart. The weight of the organ that ripped from Fjerdan's chest and flew straight into your hand weighs on you more than your growing guilt. Your heart falls out of your hands and onto the floor, and you still feel the blood staining your fingers.

You killed someone. You actually killed someone...

The cold permeates your body. You shiver uncontrollably as tears fill your eyes, and you stare at the dead body in shock until Aleksander stands in front of you. He cups your cheeks and pulls you closer to him, making you rest your head on his chest.

"Shhh... It's fine, milaya. We are safe, you saved us both." he whispers into your ear, hugging you even tighter as he presses you against his chest with one arm, and his other hand strokes your hair to calm you down.

"I… killed… I…" you can't stand it. You fall apart completely in his warm embrace, his coat perfectly soaking up both the blood you shed for him and the tears flowing from your eyes that you simply can't stop anymore.

The realisation comes to him with a delay, and you feel him freeze when he hears your words. He is wise. You know that he realises that this was your first... and that you never wanted to do this, and that this was what you feared most when going on this mission with them.

If possible, you sob and tremble even more, aware that soon his soothing embrace will disappear, that he will throw you out of his inner circle, and that you can start preparing to be sent out across the fold and to West Ravka since you have proven to be so useless to him.

But, much to your surprise, he didn't pull away. He didn't make any malicious remarks, and he didn't threaten to throw you out of the Second Army, as he often did in the worst-case scenarios your head could imagine.

Instead, he pulls you as close to him as possible and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You tremble as his hands cup your cheeks and gently brush away your tears before he presses his soft lips there.

"Shhh… I have you, lapushka." he whispers while kissing off your tears. "You did a good thing. He didn't deserve to live, moya milaya. He would have hurt us if you hadn't reacted first. And I gave you my word; this is the last time you have to do something like this." he says, pressing his lips to your tample in a promise.

He tangles his hand in your hair and presses your head against his shoulder. You bury your head between his neck and shoulder as he holds you tightly against him and strokes your back while cradling you.

You cry into him until you run out of tears. He is with you until the very end, silently comforting you with a warm hug and a gentle touch of his lips on various parts of your face.

He places one last kiss on your forehead and cups your cheek in his hand, lovingly wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. You instinctively lean into his touch and stand as if hypnotised, staring into his dark irises that look at you with so much affection and care like no one has ever done before.

You don't know who leans in first, you or him, or who is the one who kissed the other first. All you can feel, all you can think about, and all your world is limited to now is him and his soft lips caressing yours as gently as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if he was afraid that in any moment you would disappear.

At some point, his kisses became more intense. He tangles his hand in your hair and pins you to the wall, his hand making sure you don't hit your head against the stone wall as he doesn't let your lips leave his for the slightest moment.

He breaks the kiss and pulls away to look at you. You feel your cheeks turn bright red and your lips swollen from his kiss. You clear your throat and shyly look away from him as he watches you intensively.

"We… we should go… the rest are probably waiting for us…" you stutter. He lets out a soft laugh and leans in to steal another quick kiss from you.

"As you wish, milaya. This way." he says, and he grabs your hand, pulling you close to him. His shadows surround the two of you as he wraps his arm protectively around your waist and leads you outside.

When you walk with him with your hands together, you feel complete. Calm. And glancing at your general as he removes any Fjerdans from your path and surrounds the two of you in a protective shield of his shadows, you know that if you went back in time, you would do everything exactly the same.

You wouldn't change anything if it meant you would ultimately end up in the arms of the Dark General. He was worth evereything... maybe even losing your innocence too. Though something told you that he liked taking care of his little corporalki.

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melodymay-k1tty · 8 months

Note

Hello...

Well, could you do a scenario where the S/O should take care of some drunk OC and they declare their love to her or something...? Well, actually that would be cool with a Fem!Reader, but do as you wish, it's your choice!🫠💕 Btw I would also admire if in Part 1 you could include Sabo and Corazon in particular, I would really like to see them in this situation lmao😵‍💫

SABO ★ CORAZON ★ SANJI ★ LAW: DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR S/O AFTER GETTING DRUNK.

A/N: Well, I'm new to this scenario thing, and I'm not that big a fan of requests, cuz I can't write about something if I don't feel it in my heart... But I think I can manage about it. So here it is. Thank you so much for all your love, care and support! 🤧🩷

Age Rating: +12

Content Warning: consumption of alcoholic drinks. kiss description. maybe a little angst.

Genres: fluffy. headcanons (scenario).

Characters: sabo x fem!reader. corazon x fem!reader. sanji x fem!reader. law x fem!reader.

Word Count: 2.2k

SABO (Being the user of Mera Mera no Mi🔥)

• You are a high-ranking officer in the Revolutionary Army, Sabo's right-hand. After a successful mission of the two of you in Dressrosa, he decided to invite you to drink something in a bar, which was located on an island nearby. You accepted.

• You're not a big fan of alcohol, but Sabo didn't know that. The blonde guy, on the other hand, was a big fan of alcoholic drinks, and used to consume it whenever he was successful in his missions (which is quite often).

• He sat at the counter bar after you two comes there, and you did the same. Sabo called for a waiter who came immediately. He placed his order, which was beer, and asked you to order yours.

“I'll have a non-alcoholic strawberry cocktail with condensed milk, please.” You talk while the waiter writes it down on his pad of paper.

“Alright, ma'am and sir. I will bring your order soon.” He speaks after withdrawing from there.

Sabo looked at you in a somewhat strange way. “You don’t drink alcohol?”

“No, I like sweet drinks more.” You speak while he stares at you seriously, but he soon opens a smile. “Cutie.” He smiles like a know-it-all.

You looked at him strangely, and he immediately retaliated. “I meant, you look like a cute little girl acting like that.” He makes fun of your face a little.

“Sabo...” You look at him with hate and you were ready to attack him. But the waiter interrupts them.

“Your order is almost ready. In the meantime, would you like to fill out this survey?” He asks while handing over a sheet with some questions.

“What is it about?” You ask. “Can't you read, little girl?” Sabo laughs and makes fun of your face some more. “It's a survey about couples, and here it also says that couples who respond will get a discount of up to 50% on the amount spent at the bar.” He says with his knowing smile.

“But we're not a cou...” Before you can finish your sentence, Sabo puts his hand over your mouth, preventing you from speaking. “Will we really get that discount?” He asks the waiter, with his usual smile.

“Of course, sir. Just complete the survey with your girlfriend, and you'll get 50% off. It's a data collection survey for an article that will be released on Valentine's Day, in the island's local newspaper.”

“I understand. I'll do it as soon as possible then.” Sabo speaks enthusiastically to the waiter who leaves. The blondie starts marking off some answers on the survey, like we're really dating.

You had already understood that Sabo was a cheapskate and didn't like to spend money on others. So you decided to just leave it down.

He finished marking the answers, and shortly after that, your drinks arrived.

You two started drinking, but Sabo got too carried away. He ordered more and more glasses of beer, one after another. Maybe he was thinking that 50% off could become 100%...

And when you least realized it, he was out of his mind. “Y/N, let's go home soon” he grumble drunkenly, collapsing on top of you.

His sleepy voice showed just how much alcohol had already knocked him out. You saw no option but to take him for home.

“Okay, just let me pay the bill first” Apparently, the account is left for you. But thinking on the bright side, at least a discount you would have.

Sabo couldn't even pay attention to what you said. You then placed him gently propped up in the chair, and got up to go pay the bill.

After that, you put him on your shoulders and left the bar with him.

“How heavy he is...” You complain while carrying he with difficulties.

He had a stupid smile on his face, he looked like a retard. You looked at him strangely.

“What it is?” You asked arching your eyebrow. Sabo acted strange after your question, he turned red and sparks started to come out of his logia body.

He smirks again, his cheeks getting redder.

“Y/N, I love you…” His stupid smile gave it all away. You were in shock and ended up letting go of him, letting him fall to the ground.

“AAUGH!” he lets out a groan of pain as he strokes his own head. “Hmph. Y/N, why are you so mean to me?” he says this as he gets up, and his drunken body begins to stagger.

“I'm sorry, Sabo...” You say as you help him up. “Y-you… Are you serious?” you widen your eyes.

“Y/N, I want to sleep with you today and always...” he closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep. You leaned against a bench, pulling Sabo with you, and make a phone call for Dragon, who went to get you and took you to your house.

You two went to your rooms, and you went to sleep thoughtfully.

The next day you woke up and went to the kitchen for breakfast, bumping into Sabo, who blushed violently when he saw you. But now, in an embarrassed way.

“H-hello, I-I'm sorry about what happened yesterday...” He speaks awkwardly. “It's okay, Sabo-kun...” You smile sweetly.

You two was in a compelling silent for a while. Until he decides to say something. “I think we need to talk… I need to clear something up.”

“Sure, what is it?” You looked fine on the outside, but on the inside, your heart was beating hard with fear of what he might say to you.

“Dragon told me everything. I know what I say to you in yesterday night, and about that... I need to tell you that it's really true.” Now he was staring at you. And again, sparks were shooting out of his body, his face was red and he was probably really fear of what you might say too.

“Sabo-kun...” You murmur.

“Okay, I understand that you might not feel the same about me. But I would like you to know that, although.” He says as him leave the kitchen, but you pull him by the arm.

“S-Sabo...” You look deep into his eyes, and he looks into yours. Your bright eyes never stopped looking at each other. “I love you too.” You said as you approached him. The blondie approached you too, shifting his gaze between your eyes and your lips.

He placed his big hand on your face, and kissed you passionately but calmly. Your lips glued to each other, were making your bodies approach too, and in a matter of moments, you and Sabo were glued and your kiss was getting even more intense and passionate.

“I am the happiest man in the world to know that, my little girl.” He speaks after parting with you, stroking your hair and smiling cutely at you. “But I love you more...”

Finally you could understand, that he didn't do the couple survey to get a discount, but because he loves you and, in fact, wanted you like his girlfriend.

CORAZON ♠️

• You were part of the Donquixote Pirates, led by the infamous Doflamingo. While you were still living in Spider Miles, the whole family was gathered at the table and having dinner, when you felt someone poke you under the table.

• You looked to the side, seeing Corazon's serene face disguise as he lit a cigarette. He had left a note on top of your thighs.

• You pocketed the note and politely left the table, getting Doflamingo's permission. You went to your room and read the note. On it was written “You said you wanted to get to know me better. We're going out to eat today, I know of a wonderful restaurant nearby. I hope you isn't full yet.” You opened a silly smile when you read the note, and ran to change your clothes, and soon to meet him discreetly outside. You climbed out your bedroom window and left, going to meet Corazon.

He was leaning against the wall outside the house. As always in silence, lighting his cigarette. When he realized you were there, he stared fixedly at you, and let his cigarette go out carelessly.

“Wh-what is?” You asked embarrassed as you crossed your legs because of your momentary shyness.

“Nothing” He answered coldly and walked away, and you followed him. You felt honored that you were the only person who knew Corazon could speak. It was like you were special.

You two finally arrived at the restaurant, beautifully decorated with artifacts of dragons and other ancient legends creatures. The food smelled divine.

“Hmm” You mutter at that delicious smell. “Maybe you really were right when you said this restaurant is wonderful, Corazon” You say smiling.

“You can be sure I don't make mistakes when it comes to food” He replied confidently and sat down at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with your company.

The waiter came to serve us with a menu in hand. “Good night, sir and ma'am. What will you want for today? Our menu is full of original and exclusive recipes only from here, but we also have traditional ones” He says as he places the menu on the table.

“I'll have the dragon meat in white sauce, with vegetables and all the extras. For a drink, I would like a red wine and a white wine” Corazon spoke without even thinking twice, making you speechless.

“Right, sir” The waiter takes your order. “And Ma'am, what will you want?” he asks you, while Corazon looks at you waiting for your answer.

“T-the same as him. But instead of wine, I would like a melon juice” You say with a little embarrassment, for not ordering something fancier.

“Alright, your order will arrive within 30 minutes” The waiter speaks after bowing and leaving.

You felt Corazon's heavy gaze on you. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks suspicious.

You were intimidated by his look, but you answered him. “I just wanted a friend. Sometimes I feel really lonely around here... And looking at Doffy's face really isn't one of the best hobbies” He looked convinced by your answer. "I understand. In that case, I'm sorry to tell you, but I can't be a friend.”

“N-no? Why?” You ask incredulously.

He gives a blank look and then lights his cigarette. “It's complicated to explain to you, but it's better that way. We can’t have any kind of bond.”

You give him a sad and downcast look. “I see, it's okay.”

And so, you talk about friendship ends there, until you two talk about the crew matters, and the food finally arrives.

“Hmm, wow! It smells delicious. I've never tasted dragon meat before. I thought they were extinct...” You say looking appetizingly at the food.

“Dragons are just hard to find, but they never went extinct” Corazon is as serious as ever as he begins to cut his meat and eat it. You could see a bright in his eyes as he tasted the meat, and the same happens to you.

After a few minutes, you realized that Corazon was acting strange. He'd started to get tipsy after drinking so many glasses of wine, and he'd even had a little whiskey too.

He got up abruptly, you ran to hold him when you saw that he had almost fallen to the ground. “C-corazon! Are you okay?" You ask worriedly as you hold in his shoulders.

His eyes were small and bloodshot, probably from the drunken effect of alcohol. “Y/N... I...” He tries to say something with difficulty.

“Please don't do that again!” You scold him. “You almost fell, you know how worried I was?” You ask angrily and as you look at him, you see that he is staring at you with twinkling eyes. He approached you slowly, when he finally pressed his lips to yours.

“Y/N, I… love you” He whispers after breaking away from the kiss. “But we can't be together, only for your own good” Tears start to fall from his eyes.

“W-what? What are you talking about, Cora-san?” you ask incredulously. “D-do you love me?” Your eyes widen. “And why are you saying that? We can not be together? What...?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds as the tears fall down his face. Until Corazon finally says something...

“I... I CAN'T!” He screams while crying. “I'm on a suicide mission, I'm going to die. I'm cheating on Doffy, Y/N” He keeps crying “I love you so much, and I don't know if you feel the same, but...”

“Ya, Corazon! I feel the same, I love you too!” You grab his shirt with your fingernails and speak with desperation.

Gently, he removes your hands from his shirt, and squeezes it affectionately. “I'm sorry, Y/N” He speaks with a look filled with sadness. “But I can't risk losing you or hurting you. We can't be together, and you can't get attached to me. Please… Just forget about it” He asks while stroking your chin with his thumb.

You start crying uncontrollably.

“I'm going to die... It's just a matter of time” He whispers sadly, which makes you cry even more, and hug him tightly, not wanting to leave him never ever.

He gently separates you from the embrace.

“But know that I will always love you, my sweet Y/N” Corazon finally smiles, a smile so big as the love you feel for him.

You will never accept your parting words.

SANJI 💐

(The rest I will continue later)

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