#so he brushed it oft as a skin problem and said he's not concerned

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 25 Days of Christmas Day 16: “You’ve got a little something-”

      “Here we come a-Wassailing among the leaves so green!” Anne’s melodic voice echoed throughout Green Gables, it’s owner resonating in her solitude. Anne was a social girl, but she still appreciated her time to her own thoughts. She had spent much of her childhood in the company of her own self, and it was somewhat comforting to retreat into her own being at times. It also allowed for Anne to do things she normally would be asked to stop - such as singing Christmas carols at the top of her voice in the kitchen as she kneaded bread. 

Marilla, as she oft reminded Anne, was a fan of soft music. Not bellowing from the rafters. 

But with Marilla at Mrs. Lynde’s for tea, and Matthew out on the grounds, there was no one for Anne to bother with her singing - or to bother her. 

“Here we go a wandering, so fairly to be seen; Love and joy come to you, and to you a Wassail too-”

“God bless you and send you a Happy New Year,” a light, pleasant tenor joined in the chorus, causing Anne to jump out of her skin. She let out a yelp as she whirled around, the bread falling to the table with a thick thunk. 

Gilbert stood in the kitchen entryway, struggling not to laugh. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I did knock, but you didn’t hear me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“I wasn’t frightened!” Anne protested immediately. And she hadn’t been - not really. She had been slightly startled, that was all. Who wouldn’t be, when someone snuck up on them in the kitchen. That was just poor manners. That was the only reason her heart was still racing - irritation. Not because she had been frightened, and certainly not for any other reason relating to Gilbert Blythe. 

Gilbert raised a brow in the infuriating manner of his, but he didn’t contradict her. “I just stopped by to see if you had any vanilla, Mary needs some for her Christmas Cake.” 

“Right, of course,” Anne dusted her hands off on her apron. “Marilla keeps it up here, so it’s less likely to get knocked off and break.” She stretched her hand up towards the top shelf. The vanilla had been pushed back a bit though, and her hand didn’t quite reach. Anne pushed herself up on her tiptoes, straining to grasp the bottle. 

“Here, allow me,” Gilbert offered, stepping behind her to help. Anne hadn’t given up her own attempt to grab it though and their arms bumped each other. Anne felt goosebumps rise up on the grazed arm. Gilbert was a half head taller than Anne, and his hands reached the bottle easily, plucking it down. 

Anne set her heels back on the floor, determinedly ignoring any part of her that would label such assistance gentlemanly. She turned away from the shelf, and found herself centimeters away from Gilbert. She hadn’t realized how close he had stepped when he grabbed the bottle. Looking at the wide-eyed expression on his own face, neither had he. 

“Is there anything else you - I mean Mary, needs?” Anne asked quickly, feeling a bit short of breath. 

“What? No, no,” Gilbert said hastily. “This was all she asked for.” 

“Right,” Anne nodded slowly. Dimly, she was aware that they should move, now that Gilbert’s errand was over, but her feet didn’t seem to be working properly. 

“Sorry that I didn’t let you in properly before,” Anne added. She hoped Marilla didn’t hear that story - it didn’t exactly put Anne in a good hosting light. 

“Oh, it wasn’t a problem,” Gilbert said dismissively. “I liked hearing you sing. You have a beautiful voice.” 

What in heavens name was she supposed to say to that? 

“Thanks. You do as well. Have a nice singing voice, I mean,” Anne said, feeling like she might sink through the floor in mortification at her mangled compliment. This was a disaster. A calamity of concerning proportions! 

“It always annoyed Bash, when I sang on the ship,” Gilbert smiled. “I’m glad someone likes it.” He gave a miniscule frown. “Hold on, you’ve got a little something-” Without a word of warning, Gilbert’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing the freckles under her eye. Anne’s breath caught. 

Gilbert seemed to only realize what he had just done afterwards, his eyes panicked. His hand dropped to his side as if it had been stung. 

“You - you had a bit of flour there,” he said weakly, clearly mortified. But he didn’t step back, or try to leave. It was as if he were rooted to the spot, unable to move, in the same enchantment currently leaving Anne locked into place. 

Up close, she could count every shade of green and brown in his eyes. Anne had always been aware theoretically that Gilbert was a handsome boy; she was friends with Ruby after all. But now it seemed to be hitting her all at once, like a tidal wave on the beach, knocking her down and sweeping her up again. 

“Anne?” Gilbert whispered, and hearing her name from his lips moved something inside her. 

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, hesitantly. 

Then she drew back, and waited for his response.

#these are still long #sorry #time for Anne to steal a kiss though #if I learned anything from season 3 it's that Gilbert has no issue just waltzing into green gables #awae #anne with an e #anne of green gables #awae fic #anne shirley cuthbert #shirbert #gilbert blythe #prompts welcomed please #i need new ideas #25 days of christmas challenge

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 4

This is far more introspective than I intended it to be. I’m sorry you’re reading this and this one is the least fun. Or the most OOC. 

Edit: Forgot to tag @doughdaddy84 as per request! I’m sorry!!

_____

You were a nice enough person.

Ryuk didn’t really care that much about you being nice or not, however. His last charge hadn’t been the most polite or considerate human, even though he’d been in the presence of a literal god.

Ryuk had taken offense to some of the things that Light had said to him in the past, but nothing the egotistical boy had done had ever angered the god. Light had been fascinating, but he wasn’t worth getting upset over. Ryuk’s pruney skin was thicker than that, and the shinigami kept on haunting the kid for about 7 years, give or take.

If anything, after watching you for a couple days, Ryuk had gotten close to reconsidering letting you keep the notebook. Which was a first for him - shinigami weren’t really supposed to directly influence users of the death note. You were just so mousy from a glance, and he’d acknowledged that breaking any more rules wasn’t going to matter when he had to return home. Ryuk was going to be punished either way.

Of that, he was very certain.

But there was just one little hitch that kept him contemplative, if one could call it that. When he’d ripped the death note from Calikarcha and tossed it to the human world, Ryuk had dove after it with unexpected urgency. He’d watched it land on the Earth and be claimed by it, before anyone had seen its appearance.

It had taken a while for the book to be found, but oddly it was a passing waif that hesitated before picking it up.

Ryuk had taken one look at you and your lifespan, and reached the conclusion that you were suicidal. You looked fragile and exhausted, your eyes distant and clouded even though you were visibly young. The sun had already set and any light left had been waning as you walked alone toward downtown, despite not having any way to defend yourself. You were also due to die in a few days.

That was before you’d laid hands on the death note. Before Ryuk saw something that he’d never seen in his lifetime, something that made him do a double-take before writing you off completely.  

Your lifespan had increased as soon as you decided to take his notebook.

—

A year alone was nothing for a nigh-immortal being. In the shinigami realm, nothing ever changed, therefore the measure of time was considered obsolete insofar as their own lives.

Ryuk felt uneasy, thinking over the fact that he hadn’t even been following you for a year, and yet he’d been remembering times and dates like they were significant. If they meant something to you, then suddenly they were worth recollection.

You were still fragile and cute, like the day he’d found you. Yet, there were little improvements here and there that he could see. Your skin was healthier, the circles beneath your eyes were fading, and you were sound asleep at that very moment. Ryuk had made the observation within the first two months of possessing you that you were a troubled sleeper. You’d often thrashed in your bed, to the point where it was annoying for a long time.

The problem was only a memory, now.

As was the issue of your sickness, and your fear. You’d gained back the weight you lost in the beginning, and the color in your cheeks. You were objectively older than before, after several federal holidays and a birthday -- but you looked younger.

The blank walls of your bedroom were cluttered with colorful posters and a collage of drawings were tacked onto the dartboard, the same one that you had told him was useless once. He was no artist, but he’d contributed his part with a few optical illusions that you gushed over until he felt lighter than air.

Little pots of easy-upkeep plants sat on your window sill, both still alive even after three weeks in your midst. Below that, the built-in heater that you’d begged your landlord to fix was making itself useful, as was appropriate. The shelves were dusted on a weekly basis, and you’d reorganized your bookshelf the day before yesterday. Ryuk had helped of course, scanning the covers and making you point out how childish it was that he based his interest on the pictures and not what was inside with a laugh.

Then you’d shouted at him for tossing them over his shoulder recklessly, just to piss you off. None of your swats did a thing to him, but he loved that you even tried.

Your meekness extended mainly to other humans. People disregarded you easily, and Ryuk considered it a crime. He could repeat some of your most memorable phrases in his head, and laughed until he was hoarse. You said some stupid shit, yet you were thoughtful, worrying for others when they didn’t earn it. Soft as your skin, but you were sharp in your way. Brilliant in a way he had never thought of before.

He allowed himself to feel proud of you for those things.  

You were a tease. Infuriating while you played innocent, but gave him a knowing look that only made the flurry of sensations in his lower stomach worse. He’d hidden the worst of it from you, but your hands started skimming below the neck. You made something like blood pump through his ancient veins, from his head to his toes. It was enough of a problem that he had moments on the roof out of sheer desperation, imagining you inviting him into your bed.  

Recently, he’d gotten it into his head that maybe you felt the same way. It would’ve been funny were it not frustrating.  

There were also things you didn’t tell him, and it irked Ryuk more than he’d like to admit. He couldn’t pinpoint when that particular part of you became less interesting and more concerning. You were closed-lipped about certain skin abrasions, certain moments in your life that he’d not been there for, and any mention of your family would oft put you into a trance. He hated those moments, wishing he could simply open up your skull and pick the information right out of your brain

At least your lifespan wasn’t changing.

Ryuk had floated down to the floor, hunched over your bedside. He could count the days since he’d started doing this, and was only a little self-conscious at this point. The scant trees bearing leaves outside your apartment had changed colors, and the nights were getting longer than the days. Little reminders that it was too late.

Too late for a lot of things.

---

Ryuk gazed at your face, smooth and untroubled. The god of death brushed the hair out of your face, curling it over the side of your head and behind your ear.

He dragged his talons away from your temple when you sighed, opening your eyes slowly and blinking at him. The recognition was second-nature now, and you no longer regarded him fearfully. He was an anchor for you, for though he could disappear from your sight, Ryuk never dared.  

The look in your eyes made his stomach drop. You were so… happy. Happy to see him. You lit up with adoration, and a tug-o-war between feeling heated and feeling appreciation forced him fidget.

“Voyeurism is frowned upon in most societies.” You needled. “Probably against the law in most.”  

He leaned forward intently. “Hyuk hyuk, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“The penalty is death.” You yawned, bringing his hand over to your chest and letting him touch the bare skin below your collarbone.

Your pulse slowed against his knuckles, and your natural warmth began seeping into his fingers.

Soon, you were drifting off again.

“I’ll kill you in the morning.” You promised.

#ryuk #ryuk/reader #ryuk x reader #death note #there's an itty bit of plot in there #this story is not sequential