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avoxrising · 5 months

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The Feral One • Ch 10

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I don’t know if I’ll have time to post tomorrow so I’m posting an extra chapter tonight. Sorry in advance for this one…

Content Warnings - Death, violence, mayhem, people get captured

After you calmed down, Finnick carried you down to the beach to spend the afternoon with the rest of the group. They all kept their distance but you were too exhausted to try anything. You ended up sleeping for the first real time in the arena.

You were asleep for so long, you woke up to find a fresh bandage on your arm and some bread from District 3 being split amongst the group. Finnick brought you some bread and water as he sat down to watch the sunset with you.

You can’t talk anymore, not even to him. It’s like your voice has run dry and nothing will come out. You don’t even know what you would say though. He seems content enough to just sit in silence with you.

Nighttime falls and the group makes the trip up to the tree again. Finnick lets you walk in front of him but he has to help you at some of the steep parts. You fight the urge to claw at him every time he touches you, despite the fact you are telling yourself that he is safe. He wouldn’t hurt you.

At the tree, Finnick helps Beetee with the wire. You sit down close by, waiting for something bad to happen. The game makers haven’t had a death in awhile.

You emerge from your thoughts as Beetee hands the spool of wire to Katniss and Johanna, instructing them to take it down to the water.

“I’m going to go with them as guard,” Peeta states.

“No,” Beetee states. “You’re too slow.”

They continue to argue a bit before Peeta relents and let’s Katniss go with Johanna. Splitting them up must be part of the plan.

They don’t question why Beetee doesn’t split you up from Finnick. He’s the only one who can control you. None of them want to go anywhere with you if he isn’t tagging along.

Finnick and Beetee are whispering to each other, putting you and Peeta on edge. What are they planning? They seem to come to a consensus when the wire goes slack. Someone must have cut it.

“Stay with her,” Finnick tells Peeta. “I’ll go find them.”

Peeta goes to protest but Finnick has already bolted off into the jungle.

“Do you think they’re ok?” he asks you.

You shake your head no.

Moments later you hear a zap and see Beetee sprawled out in the grass. He must have made contact with the force field. There’s a cut on his arm that you didn’t notice before. When did that happen?

Seeing Beetee, Peeta quickly takes off towards where the girls went, scared that you’ll be set off at any moment. A cannon goes off and all you can hope is that it wasn’t Finnick.

You can hear people yelling and screaming. People must be fighting. You’re too exposed here.

You make your decision, you have to hide before you go rogue. Bolting into the trees, you look for one that would be easy to climb. You find one a few minutes later but quickly realize that you can’t climb it with one arm. Instead, you huddle down at the base of it, hoping people will go towards the fighting and not you.

It’s minutes later when you hear the loudest boom you think you’ve ever heard in your life. Finnick is screaming for you but it must be a trap. Why would he want you to go close to the explosion?

Pieces of the arena fall from the sky and you realize this must be the plan Finnick was talking about. He must be calling you to the pickup point.

At this revelation, you start running towards him, colliding with someone in the process.

“Where’s Katniss?” an out of breath Peeta asks you. You point towards the explosion, guessing that’s where she is headed.

Peeta makes it two yards before a dart flies into his neck and sends him to the ground. You want to scream but are cut off by a sharp pain in your neck, followed by darkness.

You wake up to a white room, the cuffs digging into the bandaged cut on your wrist. The smell of this place is recognizable. You must be in a capital hospital.

The door to your room clicks open and Snow approaches with his guards.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “I’m disappointed to see that not much has changed since the last time I saw you.”

You glare at him, which only makes him smile.

“Tell me what you know about the plan,” he commands. You shake your head. You really don’t know much.

Snow furrows his brows and a sudden pain flashes through you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “You know how much I value honestly. Tell me what you know about the plan.” You shake your head again and feel another pulse of pain, darkness creeping in at the corners of your vision.

“I see you’ve decided to be difficult again,” Snow chuckles. “Very well. Plan B it is.”

Taglist:

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fanfiction #thg finnick #thg series #finnick odair angst #finnick #catching fire #mockingjay #the feral one

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 26 days

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Whisked Away 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Delaney wishes you good luck as you go. Your heart is fluttery with nerves. It’s been a while since you actually had an interview. These days, most send you a link where you record yourself answering generalised questions. You never do well at those. In fact, you’d only ever had one job.

You worked at a cafe in high school and after you went and got your culinary schooling done, you were promoted. It held you through the first few years of your twenties until Delaney got sick and you had to move to the city for her treatment. Your squirreled away savings got you the apartment and her stipend helped, but you’re running dry on credit.

You need this. Desperately. But you can’t show that if you want it. You have to play it cool. Be a professional.

You catch a streetcar down to the main row and check your phone. You’re well ahead of time. Good. You’ve never been to this particular place. You don’t go out much if it isn’t to the grocery store or the pharmacy. Delaney stopped wanting to go outside a while back. You try to encourage her but you can tell it only makes her feel worse.

You follow the map directions on the app and stop before the cafe windows. They’re slightly tinted with curling golden calligraphy painted across them; Golden Crust. The facade is brown and yellow brick and there are flower boxes just below the windows. Behind the glass, loaves of bread lines a shelf, on display to tempt passerbys.

The door is wide and thick and painted red. You push inside and pause to look around. The long counter is made of dark wood with clear glass cases on top containing dozens of colourful and sugary desserts. Behind the counter, the walls are lined with shelves; some ingredients, some with unfolded boxes, and more bread and packaged biscuits to go. It’s all finely organized.

Lights hang above with brass shades, lending a low hue to the shop. Several customers wait in queue as two employees work tills at opposite ends of the counter. You don’t know whether you should join the wait or go ahead and let them know that you’re there to see Thor for an interview. That was his name, right?

You look at your phone again. You have time. You wouldn’t want to be rude. You adjust your bag and stand at the end of the line. The women ahead of you marvel at the pristine mini white chocolate cakes with dark candied cherries on top as another whispers about cheesecake being devilish. Your own eyes wander gluttonously to the assortment.

You peel away your gaze and look down at yourself. You put together the best you could; a striped blouse, navy blue on white, and a pair of straight-legged pants. They’re a bit outdated but professional at a glance. You hope no one notices the scuff on your right toe.

You get to the front of the line and step up. The young girl behind the till asks what you’d like. You give an apologetic smile, “um, actually, I’ve got an interview.”

“Ah, yes, another one for Thor,” she chimes, “well, you just come with me.”

She’s young. Still a teenager. Her and the other cashier look to be barely graduated if that.

She walks toward the end of the counter and she beckons you over, “I’m Thrud,” she pulls back the short little door for you to step through, “that’s Nari,” she gestures to the dark-haired worker at the other till. He’s too busy taking orders to notice.

You introduce yourself as she takes you around to a doorway, “I think he’s just doing these in the kitchen. Last one ended early so...” she talks brightly as she bounds ahead of you like a happy puppy, “dad?” She calls as she enters the large kitchen. “Dad? I’ve got the next appointment.”

Your anxiety spikes. You’re not the first or the last. The competition deflates your hopes even further.

“Eh?” A deep grunt comes as head pops up from the other side of the large marble island. The man is so large his head hits one of the pans dangling from the ceiling rack. He rubs his brow and hisses, “sorry, I was just looking for my pen.”

Thrud laughs as she crosses her arms. You notice the golden pen tucked behind his ear. She raises a hand, keeping her other arm folded, as she taps her temple. His brows arch and he feels around his wave locks and fishes out the pen.

“Right,” he gives a sheepish look and wiggles it in triumph.

“Anyhoo,” Thrud trills, “this is her.”

“Thank you, Thrud,” he drones back.

“Mhmm,” she turns and smiles at you again before she goes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure how to begin, “er,” you introduce yourself, once more “I have a resume on hand--”

“No need,” he waves you off, “come, I try to keep these things straight to the point.”

You near him and rest your hand on your bag, chewing your lip.

“Wash your hands,” he directs you towards the sink, “you may put your things there.” He points to the empty counter on the other side of the deep metal sink. You put your bag there and scour your hands deliberately, taking your time as you scrub nails, knuckles, palms, every bit. You dry off on the towel he offers as you face him.

“Here,” he gives you and apron, “would want you to make a mess.

You tie on the apron as he turns and grabs a tray. There are half a dozen cookies on the sheet, some empty piping bags, nozzles, a bowl of icing and small tubes of food dye. You look between him and the cookies.

“You may choose the design. You will decorate and I will ask questions, does that work for you?”

“Um, sure,” you answer. It’s unexpected. “All six?”

“All six,” he confirms and crosses his arms, making himself even broader. He is not only tall, but wide, and his apron does little to conceal his indulgence in sweets that gathers around his middle.

“Okay,” you accept the challenge meekly.

You step up to the marble island and take a moment. You twiddle your fingers nervously as you think. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to go to simple.

“Take your time, I’ll ask some questions and you can begin whenever you’re ready,” he assures, “so, you’re availability, it is flexibly? Our open ours are eight to six, but you are available on weekends?”

“Yes,” you say as you set an idea in your head and read for the icing. You stir it with the wooden spoon, testing its consistency. “I have open availability most days.”

“Most days?” He echoes.

“Um, yes, I may have an appointment now and again.”

“Oh, appointment?”

“For my sister,” you explain, “but it wouldn’t get in the way, I'm sure.”

You cringe. You’re already making yourself feel bad.

“And so, you’ve had one previous role, what was included in that?” he asks.

Only one... that can’t be good on paper.

“I worked at a cafe. I was a barista for the first two years, then I was promoted to baker, and ended as assistant manager at the branch,” you explain as you fill one of the piping pages and fit the appropriate tip, “but I completed by culinary diploma while I was there.”

“And after? What did you do? I see you’ve been out of work.”

You’re quite as you lean over the cookies and start on the first one. Your idea is simple in premise but not in execution. Delaney loves to do cross-stitches, so that’s what you’ll do. First, the white grid and the lacing along the edges, then you’ll fill in the squares with all different colours to make the illusion of stitches.

“I’ve been a caretaker to my sister,” you say quietly, “we only just moved here last year so I haven’t found much.”

“And you would be able to work fulltime?” He asks.

“Yes, she’s... she’s doing better now. I can do it,” you assure him as you keep your eyes on your precise lines.

He’s quiet. You’re sweating. You just concentrate on the work. Maybe your answers aren’t the best but you hope your work is. You finish the crosshatching and look up. You find him watching your hands intently. As you pause, his blue eyes meet yours. He gives a smile.

“Ha,” he scoffs, “my hands are too big.” He shows his thick fingers, “I can’t quiet get my lines that tight.”

You nod and bow your head again. You’re not even done the first cookie. You have six to prove yourself. Six cookies to seal your fate.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #whisked away

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ryuv1i · 2 months

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Frigid♔Magnanimity꧂

Eustass Kid x Princess!Reader

TW for this chapter: Mentions of death, mentions of decapitation, vulgar language, Kid being a hot dick, torture

Tag List: @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Chapter 2: Frilled scars

…”You know y/n…I once went to this beautiful place, it was a cold yet mesmerising land…there was a soft white blanket of snow and a beautiful waterfall…you could see foxes, deers and other little creatures going near the river to drink water…it’s a pity I didn’t get to visit it fully… I’m so mad I didn’t get out of the carriage and go explore the vast snowy hills myself…” Your mother looked down at you as she held you in her arms…you were just 4 years old… “Y/n…promise me you’ll get out of here and explore this beautiful massive world…it’s a pity I won’t be able to come with you…” Your mother held you close… “Why mommy? Why can’t you come wifh me…?” Your mother’s face slightly sorrowed but she kept her warm smile… you would’ve said so much more if you knew this would be the last conversation you would’ve had with your mother…

Later that afternoon you entered your father’s quarters in a rush. “FATHER WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?! Why would you execute such innocent maids?! On what matter?!” You yelled at his highness. “My orders were clear. He shall be tortured and kept on the brink of death for this decade before his execution. It’s fun to see them in pain. You shouldn’t show him no mercy! He’s a filth to the face of the earth. He’s nothing more then a bandit and rule breaker. I wont have him try and murder me. Nor your younger brother!!” Silence fell over the room before you broke it again. “How could you do this to a human being?! And what about me and Mary…? Do you not care about us too?” You asked… “I could always find another queen. And I wanted sons, sons who can lead and conquer. Not daughters. You’re useless to me. I’ll get rid of you as soon as I find a prince willing to marry you.” Hurt was an understatement…you felt destroyed as you heard these words come from your fathers mouth…you knew he never cared for you the same as your younger step brother but you never would’ve thought he would’ve said it without regret…he was your father…yet he saw you as nothing more then a burden.. “HO—“ a loud slap echoed through the room as your father silenced you. You touched your red cheek and raised your eyes to his. “I DONT WANNA HEAR ANOTHER WORD. If you keep at this I’ll end you with the same fate as your rotten mother.” His eyes bore into you, cold as ice..you pulled yourself together the best you could and left his apartments…you rushed back to your quarters as little droplets of tears fell down from your eyes. A week later you sat at a window in the palace and witnessed as your ladies-in-waiting and other maids were all executed for apparently plotting to kill the king… the only one your father spared was the one closest to you, your best and only friend…Yuki. Her mother was one of the maids killed and she spent that evening sobbing next to you as you comforted her till she cried herself to sleep on your bed…After she finally fell into a deep slumber you went out onto your balcony and stared out at the vast sea, the ocean was calm and the wind felt soft and warm…you felt so horrible you wanted to stab yourself in the chest…you felt guilt. Guilty for the women who were killed for what you’ve done, their blood was on your hands. You yourself broke into a quiet cry…leaning on the railing of the balcony. You felt guilty but you also felt horrible leaving someone to starve…

That night after midnight you made your way back down into the dungeons where Eustass Kid was being held…you walked to the very end of the corridor of cells…in the last cell he was asleep…you made sure he was…at least you were hoping…you were holding a tray with a piece of meat, a few slices of bread and a bowl of soup In one hand and with the other you turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the cell…he was still breathing steadily as you quietly placed the tray down…but as you were about to leave a strong hand grabbed you by the throat and pushed you all the way into the wall..you helped and struggled to breathe, when you opened your eyes again you were met by intimidating amber eyes…it felt as if he was staring right through you. “So you’re the little fucker that’s been bringing me this.” He let go of you and you fell to your knees in a struggle to regain your breath. “The princess eh?” He stared down at you confused. “The fuck…why are you out of all people doing this. Shouldn’t you get ready to meet your fuckin’ prince in shinin’ armour or something?” His tone seemed a little more calm yet his glare still felt as if it was piercing through you… “…You got charged with death for simply setting foot in our kingdom…I don’t understand why…you didn’t do nothing to my father….” You spoke with a hint of anger in your tone aimed towards the king. “I’m a pirate, princess’ I’m an outlaw. And I’m hated for my reputation.” He walked back to the mattress and sat down on it. “I don’t hate you…I mean I don’t really hate pirates…I’ve always wanted to talk to one! So I can hear more about the world and their adventures! I-..I really wanna explore the whole world…” You rest your back against the cold wall of the cell, you were only wearing your nightgown and a brown cloak over it…so it was pretty cold for you… “then just skip over to your father and bat your eyelashes at him and poof you’ll be on a lavish ship surrounded by guards and staff to be at your every need” He rolled his eyes. A few moments of silence were met…you were hugging your knees for a twinge of warmth. “That’s…not true…you might think my life is perfect because I’m a princess…but my father doesn’t even care for me. He sees me as a politic alliance. He wants to marry me off to some king that’s 40 years older then me just because he wants a political alliance with some other kingdom…if it wasn’t for my step mother I would’ve been married off before 16, I’m forced to marry someone who’s chosen for me, birth him as many children as he wants. And for gods sake if I don’t give him a boy I might as well say my prayers. My father killed my mom. Just because she failed to give him an healthy male heir. So he charged her with adultery and she was executed. He barely knew I existed. But after my younger step brother was born he was the light of his life. Kings don’t care for their wives or daughters. A week ago I dared speak up at my father and he threatened to have me face the same fate as my mother. So yeah. Let me go and bat my eyelashes at him.” Your gaze fell to the floor. The only sounds were the droplets of water falling through the cracks of the ceiling before they were met by Kid’s deep voice. “Fine then I’ll kidnap you when I’m outta here.” You raised your eyes at him and raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?” You looked at him confused…”I mean, imagine how much my bounty will go up if I kidnap a damn princess.” He noticed your slightly uneasy aura. “Can her highness not take a damn joke?” He teased. “That isn’t a funny matter. Kidnapping someone isn’t funny.” He rolled his eyes for maybe the 100th time and grabbed the tray of food and started eating…just whilst he was eating you managed to take a look at him properly…he had a lot of wounds…he noticed you staring at him and he whistled to get your attention. “Like watcha see princess’…?” A little pink hue made its way onto your cheeks and you turned away as he laughed at you. After a few more moments of silence you spoke.

“You can go….I mean…I unlocked your cell…I won’t tell anyone…” he finished swallowing the last of the meat, got up, walked over to you, crouched down at your level and flicked your forehead…hard. “Are you stupid? I don’t know where shit is, there must be guards everywhere and I have a sea prism cuff.” He raised his wrist on which was the cuff. He grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you up. “Get the hell out of here. I don’t need a princess to rescue me.” He pushed you towards the cell door and he went back to his mattress and plopped down on it. You didn’t protest and just left…you locked the cell door and ran back down the corridors…you were almost caught but you made it back to your room…after changing into a clean nightgown you got into bed and stared at the ceiling of it…that same feeling you felt there first day you met eyes with him made its way to your chest again…your heart skipped a beat as you thought of his shirtless body again. “What is wrong with me?!” You thought to yourself as you turned onto your right side and hugged a pillow to your chest…after a while you fell asleep that way…breathing steadily whilst your cheeks still with that pink hue on them.

Later that night Kid found himself with the king and two guards in front of his cell. “The fuck you want.” He said with a low growl in his throat. “I don’t think that’s way to talk to the king.” Kid scowled. “I couldn’t give a further fuck.” The king smirked. “So someone keeps bringing you food. Which one of those filthy maids has been doing this.” Kid laid back down on the mattress with his arm under his head. “Maybe it’s a man who knows.” The king’s face fell to anger. “Guards, take him. He’ll end up speaking one way or another. The guards entered his cell but Kid didn’t even flinch. “Yes yes torture me, cuz that’s been working wonders. I hope you fucking know that anything you do to me won’t bring me down you fucker. And one of these days I’ll have a damn knife at your throat.” The guards chained him and took him out of his cell and down the corridor towards the torture chambers.

The next night whilst you were bringing him food you noticed the key to his cell wasn’t working anymore…till you noticed the lock looked new…so they changed the locks…you still could push the tray through the gaps of the bars..but when you took a good look at him you froze…he was bleeding, he had numerous wounds and had dried blood at his mouth nose and in many other places.. “Kid! W-What happened to you?!” You placed the tray down and ran right up against the bars. As she noticed he wasn’t answering she ran back where she came from…Kid then turned his head as he heard her run off, he placed his head back against the mattress and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he heard your steps run back down the corridor, this time you had a lot of bandages and medicinal herbs and tissue…he seemed a bit surprised by this. “Get the fuck out of here. As you said your dad doesn’t care about you so he’ll kill you if he finds you doing this to me!! Leave. Get the fucking hin—-“ “NO! i don’t Care what you have to say. I wont leave till you let me treat you! You might get an infection! Or worse die. So get over here and let me patch you up!” He didn’t move for a few seconds then a sigh left his lips and he went up against the bars so you could reach your hand in between them and patch him up…first you cleaned up his arm(and a half) and bandaged a few scars, then you did his back where he seemed to have a few open wounds as other marks…he slightly shivered when he felt your warm hands against his calloused skin. It was a contrast from the cold scent he got used to…it felt good. After you were done with his back he turned around back to face you…he had a pretty nasty wound on his abdomen and you tended to it…he felt tingly as you were caring for him like that..it was weird he wasn’t used to this, nor did he want to appear weak..after you were done patching him up he snatched the food you brought him and let’s just say that food was disposed of in a matter of seconds… you asked him about what happened and he told you in short detail what your father did last night. As your little conversation lead on you managed to get him to tell you about a few of his adventures…and places he’s been to..you were amazed…till you didn’t realize that it’s been a few hours…by the time you left to go back to your room and sleep it was the crack of dawn…yet you still went to bed…all those places he told you about had you dreaming of visiting them. And it also slightly brought his mind off things as he’d hear you laugh and be interested at his stories…that laugh and smile of yours were white stuck in his head…

Authors note: Sorry that this chapter was quite short, and I’m sorry for the late update but I just moved so I was extremely busy. Also! If you want to be notified when the next part comes out I’m starting a tag list so just comment below if you wanna be added! Also if you ask Kid’s cell bars are the rectangular ones so that’s how reader can reach better through. I hope you enjoyed it and I wanna thank you for all the support! I love hearing your thoughts and asks/requests it just makes me smile! Also my requests are currently open, feel free to ask/request anything you want! Thank you so much!

#eustass kid #eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #one piece #one piece eustass #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid x reader #one piece x y/n #killer one piece #killer op #one piece eustass kid #one piece kid #kid pirates #kid op #eustass kid x you #kid x reader #kid x you #kid x y/n

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months

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Matriarch - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics

Companion piece to Punishment & Silver & Gold

You’re sitting at your desk, smoking a cigarette when Chibs enters your office. You look at the clock on the wall and realise it’s gone past midnight, you’re not sure when that happened. Time’s been fluid since you watched the light die in Galen’s eyes. You remember something similar happening when you’d killed your ex-husband.

He looks down at the body on your floor and you see the way his jaw tightens, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. It’s his job to keep you safe but you’ve managed to do that all by yourself. He’s old fashioned sometimes with his thinking, he has no illusions about being a white knight, but he hates the fact you’ve been forced to take action.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer scumbag.” He spits on the corpse before turning to face you. His eyes come to rest on the gun that sits in the space between the two of you, the one he had given you just in case. He had never dreamed that you would need to use it.

You offer him a cigarette from the cardboard carton on your desk and he removes one before using the gold Zippo to light it. He takes a drag before leaning against the wall, his gaze straying to the blood pool underneath Galen.

“You’re going to need a new carpet love.” He tells you. “There isn’t enough bleach in the world to get that up.”

Realistically it would be simpler to burn down the entire office, eradicate the evidence but that would bring the police calling and he thinks they probably hate you as much as they despise the club. It was the downside to being good at your job.

“The place needs refurbishing anyway.” You remark, tapping the ash from your cigarette into a silver ashtray. “I don’t think it will take Allie much convincing, she’s been wanting to change things up for a while.”

“I can get Juice and some of the guys on it, get rid of the body and the carpet but…” He trails off and you know that the ‘but’ is. It means that news of Galen’s death, the manner of it, spreads around the M.C like wildfire. Nobody would believe that Chibs had done this, it’s too personal.

“They need to see that I take care of my shit.” You state, blowing a stream of smoke out of your mouth and watching it evaporate into the air. “That I’m still taking care of their shit.”

Secrets is what it all came down to.

The Club’s secrets.

Galen had wanted to pluck each and every one of them out of your head and twist them to leverage his position with the M.C. Not a single one had passed you’re lips during your time together. He respected that, he’d told you, your loyalty. You couldn’t buy that shit, it was born out of love.

You weren’t sure when that had happened.

There were moments though, ones that stuck in your mind.

The look in Tig’s eyes when he told you about his girl, how proud he was of her whilst the two of you hammered out his investment into Cara Cara. The enquiry he’d made about making sure she received his share of the business in the event of his passing. He’d worried about that, you remember, making sure that she was taken care of, along with the two daughters he barely saw.

The taste of Bobby’s banana bread as he told you that his kid was better off not knowing him, that he had always been bad news, which was why he was on his third divorce. You knew a thing or two about making bad choices, you’d reminded him. He wouldn’t always be unlucky in love, especially not when he baked like that. His smile had warmed your heart.

Tara’s guardianship and adoption of the Able after you’d helped facilitate her marriage to Jax. You’d been invited to both the wedding and the subsequent adoption party. You remembered standing in the kitchen, talking to Juice about his weed shop when Jax had passed you baby Thomas for a minute because he’d had his hands full with Able. You think that was the moment it dawned on you how much trust they had in you, that they’d come to see you as one of them.

All of these things they weren’t just legal affairs; they were snippets of people’s lives. Important pieces that meant something deep to each and every one of them.

Strung up in that barn you had known that you could never let Galen have that. To him the M.C was a device to be wielded, a tool to build up his side business but to you they’d become a part of your life.

It would have been easy to relent. To divulge how the M.C were diversifying, making more money with legit businesses like porn and escorts than they ever had with gun running, which was why they were starting to pull out of the trade but the damage of revealing something like that…

It would have been catastrophic.

Noone would have blamed you, Tig had told you in the aftermath when he was helping Tara see to your wounds.

I would have, you’d responded.

You’re distracted as Chibs removes his phone from his pocket. You see him hesitate, his thumb hovering over the buttons before he looks at you helplessly.

“This will bind you to them.” He tells you, tilting his head towards Galen’s corpse. “After this there’s no going back, they’ll start looking to you. You’ll go from their lawyer to their matriarch.”

You understand what he’s saying, you’ve protected them once, allowing Galen to take his pound of flesh. This thing that you’ve done will reinforce the action, you’ve taken care of something that was very much a Club problem. Before his presidency, before killing Galen, you could have been viewed as collateral damage, an affiliate of the Club who been caught up in their mess but now…

You know how this looks. That they’ll see it as you defending them.

“Right now, you can walk away from me, from the club…” he trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. The glint of steel underneath all of that silk. “That was never going to happen was it?”

You shake your head.

“I didn’t want this for you.” He tells you honestly. “When I kissed you that night at my kitchen table, I had no idea we’d end up here.”

You know what he means. Him with the presidency, you standing along side of him, a part of the Club’s bloody history. Nobody could have foreseen this, the course of circumstances that has led you to this moment.

“Maybe it was always meant to happen.” You tell him stubbing out your cigarette before casting a glance at Galen’s corpse. “This feels like the beginning of a joke. What do you do with a dead Irish Man?”

He laughs, he can’t help it because it does. He feels that pressure in his chest relinquish as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. Anyone else would be horrified by what had happened here tonight but you’re anything but. He senses the relief in you, you’ve slayed another of your monsters, you can sleep easy knowing that Galen can never touch you again.

“I love you.” He finds himself saying.

He means it. He always has. He’s just never been able to vocalise it until this moment. He’s never doubted your commitment to him, but accepting the Club, that’s always been at the heart of his reluctance. You don’t shy away from the life he leads; you embrace it. You understand that it’s part of him and now it’s a part of you too. It may not be what he envisioned but it’s the future the two of you are stepping into and he treasures it with every fibre of his being.

“I know.” You tell him, clasping his hand. “I’ve always known Filip.”

Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#chibs telford x reader #chibs telford #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #filip chibs telford x reader #filip chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs #filip telford #filip telford fanfiction #filip telford drabble #filip telford x reader #filip telford imagine

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lyome · 1 year

Note

Uhuhu I love the way you write <33 Since if i understood correctly request are open, can I request yandere Nikolai (bsd) punishing f!reader who tried to escape ^^!

note: okayy i might've written this a bit too horror-like. i hope you like it though! it was sm fun to write nikolai tho hehe pairing: yan!nikolai x f!reader tags/warnings: abuse!! yandere themes, blood, corpses, murder, captivity, manipulation, guilt tripping, very horror like(??) please read with caution

Nikolai loved you. But his love wasn’t the typical kind. Nothing about him was typical. He’d smile and say the most wretched things. He’d hold you and his nails would dig far too deep in your skin. At first you were just trying to be nice to this strange man. You had no idea how starved he was for kindness, or how far he’d go to keep it.

It took you months to push through the bathroom window. It was small and greasy and too tall for you. Nikolai must’ve known that, having deemed the very idea of pressing yourself through it impossible. But here you were, falling face first on the icy cold ground in the middle of the night. Dirty from the grease and bruised from Nikolai’s last tantrum.

From there it was a matter of luck. You didn’t know this place, and you quickly realised you didn’t know the country either. He kept you somewhere completely foreign, where people hardly even spoke English. All they saw in you was a frantic, insane foreigner covered in filth. No one thought to help you nor call the police. They assumed you were just one of the homeless beggars struggling for change.

As you stumbled about for days, you did manage to speak to a few people. Directions to the police, some small amounts of money, an old lady even gave you a small loaf of bread. She didn’t understand you, nor you her, but you were unimaginably grateful.

You took to hiding that night after you deemed the police unapproachable. Nikolai was a frantic idiot who openly told you about what he did, for who, and why. You’ve spent months trapped in a small room and bathroom with no one but him. And he loved to talk.

It was all pitter, patter and quiz after quiz. He drove you insane.

Curled up in the bushes of a park, you couldn’t sleep. You were cold, hungry, and utterly mortified.

Nikolai did talk far too much, but he had his secrets. You were just a barista that he frequently saw whilst out and about with Fyodor. An innocent bystander who caught the jester’s eye. One thing led to another, until eventually you found his secret. His obsession.

Printed polaroid photos of you, your friends, family and loved ones spilled from his pale white cloak. And he showed it all with a smile. Laughing at your terror, threatening all you hold dear. And then you were gone.

It’s insane to you to remember you used to have a life. You had a job and friends and your world was more than the bright wallpaper that forced you to vomit. There was more to your life than Nikolai’s ugly laughter and threats.

You managed to fall asleep after crying your eyes out. It was too much. But when the morning came your blood chilled.

The sun was bright and birds sang a tune you’ve long forgotten. And at your feet was a note. An ugly one, for it was Nikolai’s handwriting scribbled harshly on the stained page. It said:

To my dearest dove,

You’ve outdone yourself. Say, beautiful, have you been hiding how cruel you really are? Why, all this time I thought you loved me! This really hurts, y’know. My heart is bleeding because of you. I might as well put a bullet through it. Is that what you want? You want someone to die for you?

If you wanted blood on your hands so badly you should’ve asked! I’ve prepared you a gift, in fact. You’ve been bad. Very bad. But I’m in a forgiving mood! Just come, find me here. I promise you’ll love my gift.

Oh and, if you don’t show up, things will get bad. For both of us.

Forever yours, Nikolai

Directions were on the other side. It was a block away, and his tone was all too familiar. You could practically hear him speak. One moment his voice would get low and husky and you’d nearly forget what a monster he is. And in the next he’d sing and chime in that insane way he always did.

Nikolai was a cruel man. So you obeyed. He had already found you, there was no point in trying. You found the building with ease. An ugly abandoned little thing. It reeked of something metallic.

By the time you identified the smell as blood, it was too late. The very first room you entered showed you exactly what Nikolai meant by surprise.

In front of you was a mutilated corpse of a man who gave you enough money to get yourself water. He had been stabbed repeatedly all across his body. You could see Nikolai doing it. Frantic and laughing as the helpless man begged for it to end. Helpless against the ability user.

You wanted to scream. The old you would’ve been shocked. But by now Nikolai taught you to accept this. And at the sight of your frozen face, Nikolai decided to appear. His face popped out of the space-wrap created by his cloak, standing upside down. Now you yelped, inhaled and exhaled in quick repetition, terrified by his head alone. You were like a bunny in front of a fox.

“Darling!” He exclaimed, smiling so innocently in spite of the corpse behind him, “I’ve missed you!”

“Nikolai, please. Let me go.”

“Let you go? But where would you go?”

Bright, yellow light illuminated the room. He was holding you now, fully present within the room. Gloved hands warm as they cupped your face, his palms on your cheeks. You were too scared to move. Eyes watery with tears you desperately tried to keep.

He said your name, mumbled it like a secret. A confession only him and you could hear. “(y/n), where would you go? Don’t you know you only have me?”

Why did he have to look so sad when he hurt you? At the start that was what broke you first. The guilt and sorrow in his eyes as he simply kept going. There was no end to it. Nikolai didn’t know when to stop.

“Please,” you mouthed.

“Oh, stop that.” He was cold now. Just like that, in an instant, his mood turned sour. Face stoic and empty. “This is your fault, isn’t it? Don’t beg me now. It makes you look pathetic.”

His starry eye glinted in the dim light of the building. Deep and endless, beautiful. He was beautiful.

“There’s more to see, ptichka.”

Nikolai had moved out of the way, pulling his cloak to the side as you noticed the staircase leading up. Somehow you already knew what you’d see. There was a corpse right next you here, of course there would be more. Nikolai never bothered with mercy or reason. What’s a few more lives that he can throw on your coincense?

You were frozen in terror, reluctant to move. But then Nikolai leaned in, whispering to you; “They were so nice, weren’t they?.” He laughed, “There’s more upstairs.”

“What do you- What do you mean?”

Darkness and light and then he’s gone. His demonic cackle echoing.

You knew better than to trust him. You paid for trusting him by giving away your life. Captured by a psychopath who cared for nothing but desperation in your eyes. But all his wretched acts had yet to strip you of your humanity. You thought of that woman’s old wrinkled face, her warm smile and the way her skin was littered with moles and deep blue veins. She saw you, a dirty and lost thing, and she helped you.

And Nikolai killed her. Hung her up by a rope and ended her misery.

“Isn’t that ugly? Yuck! I hate old people.”

Your voice was weak, “How could you?”

He sat atop a pile of crates and boxes, illuminated by a green light bulb. White cloak and suit dirtied by blood and mud. You could see hand prints on his cloak, palms soaked in blood as they clung to him. No doubt begging to stay alive.

“Y’know when I heard she gave you bread I was sure it’d be deadly or something! I mean, don’t old things attract old things? Yuck, just imagine it. The old hag might’ve given my little sparrow stale bread! I simply had to punish her for that possibility alone. You understand, don’t you?”

You were still staring at her. She must’ve had grandchildren, a daughter or son, maybe there was someone taking care of her. And now she’s gone. Because she was kind to you.

Nikolai was displeased by your lack of reaction. He sighed dramatically, chin resting in his palm as he simply observed you. “Hmm, I suppose it takes a grand trick to make you smile.”

“I’ll go back with you. Please, no more tricks.”

“Oh, my darling, it’s too late for that. Why would I trust a fucking idiot who can’t even see how good she has it with me?”

And then he took your hand in his, ability melting into your flesh as you watched your entire limb disappear. Sometimes you swear Nikolai laughed on beat with circus music.

“Such a cute face. I forget how pretty you can get,” his hand intertwined with yours, fingers meeting and tangling, “when you’re utterly terrified.”

A bone snapped. You screamed, fell to the ground, tried to pull your hand away despite knowing it’s worthless. Nikolai had snapped one of your fingers. You heard the bone.

What a chilling scene this was. Nikolai the jester, you his assistant, and the hanging woman between you was the audience.

There were tears on your face, the pain being too much. Nikolai’s ability terrified you. He could be standing there, harmless. And then his cloak covered his face and you felt his tongue on your skin. Lips meeting yours once he had tasted your tears. He bit you hard, and then he was gone. Leaving nothing but the taste of blood on your tongue.

“You know, I was really, really, really, hurt when I saw you were gone. Don’t you know you can’t fly, silly? I took your wings, remember? I took everything from you. Don’t you just absolutely hate that? Oh, do you hate me too then? I’d hate it if you hated me! But you don't, right? Or maybe you escaped because you do. But that’d make me sad. Ahh, just thinking about why you’d do this makes me confused! C’mon birde, say it isn’t so. You don’t hate me right?”

He was a lunatic. His words were insane. But your hand was back and your arm still stung and your lip throbbed in sharp pain and the woman’s body circled about until her ugly dead eyes found yours and vomit fought to bubble out of your throat.

“I hate you,” you cried out silently. You were sick of it. You wanted to die. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” You chanted. With every chant you broke his heart, hoping he’d use the shattered pieces on your throat, arms, and legs. Cut you up and destroy you. Give you some sort of release, an end to the misery.

“You’re boring.”

His face was cold as he approached you. No smile nor taunt to be offered. And then his fist met yours, body seated atop your abdomen as he kept punching and punching. Your nose cracked, your jaw, your tongue. It all bled and stung and you swore you could see stars. The floor was coated in your blood.“You hate me, do you? You hate this, right? Because that’s what I do right? I hurt you and I’m horrible, right?” He spat at you. Saliva mixing with tears and blood, falling down your swollen face. You couldn’t speak. “I would’ve let you off this once. Maybe you’re just stupid, I’m fine with that. I like you stupid. Ah, but now I have to be mean.”

#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere bsd x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fanficiton #horror themes #lyomes moon

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neonpaperlanterns · 18 days

Note

May I request a fluff writing where Bobby, Crafty, or Dog Day comfort a plus sized reader?

[A/n: I realize that now that it was an or not and and. So I hope you like all three of them. Also I hope this turned out okay.]

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

We're here for you

6:00 a.m.

Stepping out of the shower you stare at the distorted image of yourself in the fogged up mirror. A frown pulls at your lips as hands pull at your stomach, your thighs, anywhere you can reach is poked and prodded.

Your frown only deepens. It’s going to be one of those days.

7:30 a.m.

You shift in your seat. The tram leading to PlayCare felt even slower than usual. With every snag and jostle of the car you felt how your body moved. The stretch of the fabric, the press of buttons, all accentuated everytime the tram swayed along.

Your fists clench and your frown remains.

9:00 a.m.

“Tag you're it!” one of the kids' hands smacks into your stomach. You watch as he darts away, his face red from laughing. A pit forms in your gut as you can still feel the sensation of your skin rippling out from where he tagged you. Running after him is worse than sitting on the tram. You can feel how everything is shifting and moving. How your shirt clings to everything.

“Alright everyone back inside, class is about to start.” Miss Delight calls out. You stop running, instead start herding the kids into the school. They bump into you, you try not to flinch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your frown turning to a grimace.

“Are you okay?” It's whispered and you glance over. It's Bobby, she looks worried. You nod, everything is fine. You give a thumbs up not trusting your voice right now.

Bobby still looks at you concerned but doesn't ask again.

10:00 a.m.

With the children in school you tuck yourself away in the laundry room. Your thoughts drifting as you watch the clothes spin around in the washers.

You lean forward, it presses your belt into your stomach.

You lean back but then that just draws attention to your mind section.

You hunch but now everything folds over.

You cross your legs yet that just makes your thighs look strange.

You sit normally but all that does is make you feel wide.

So you fidget and shift trying to just feel comfortable but nothing is working and it's horrible. You feel like you are about to tear at your flesh when DogDay pops his head through the door.

You freeze.

“Howdy there, everything alright in here?” He’s looking at you like Bobby did early.

“Yes, everything is fine.” Your tone sounds a bit clipped which does nothing to ease his worried expression.

“Are you sure?” He tried again and you can’t help but sigh.

“I’m fine.” You try not to snap. You just want to be left alone. A low whine leaves DogDay but he's nodding and quickly disappears from the doorway.

You bite your lip. Your mood plummeting even further.

11:00 a.m.

You hear CraftyCorn before you see her. It's almost lunch time and you're in the kitchen preparing sandwiches for the kids when the unicorn strolls inside.

“Is there something wrong?” She doesn't even say hello before she asks. You blink slowly up at her.

“... No.” You say cautiously. Your eyes narrow as Crafty stares down at you. The look on her face tells you she doesn't believe you.

“Really? Because you can talk to us… Me about anything. You know that right?” Her face is earnest and a part of you really wants to. But instead you look away, focusing back on your task.

“I know but I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about.” You mumble as you spread jam onto thin white bread.

“But-” You slam the jar of peanut butter on the counter interrupting her.

“I said I was fine.” You bite out, guilt instantly blooming in your stomach as Crafty flinches back. You watch as her eyes turn down cast and quickly leave the room.

You want to scream.

1:30 p.m.

In a small corner of PlayCare Bobby, DogDay, and CraftyCorn huddle together.

“I’m worried about them.” Bobby whispers.

“Me too but I don't know what to do.” DogDay sighs.

“I think I have an idea.” Crafty states. The other two Smiling Critters stare at her curiously.

Looking around and spotting no one, Crafty pulls the other two closer.

3:10 p.m.

You're sitting at one of the many desks filling out paperwork. You're trying to focus but the edge of the desk is digging into you and shame is still burning hot through your veins. Only made worse by the fact you couldn't find either DogDay or CraftyCorn. You had wanted to apologize but it felt like they were avoiding you.

And isn't that what you wanted? To be left alone?

You did and it felt horrible.

It was nearing the end of your shift and you didn't want to leave like this. But it appears you didn't have a choice. And you couldn't blame them. You’d avoid yourself too if you could.

4:00 p.m.

“Hey can we talk?” Nearly jumping out of your seat you turn to see Bobby, DogDay, and Crafty in the doorway. They look nervous as they hover and you beckon them inside.

“Yeah, I actually wanted to talk to you too.” They look surprised but happy as they settle around you.

“Oh, of course. You can go first.” They say in unison. You shuffle in place as you look at the ground.

“I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn't have snapped.” You rub the back of your neck. “I know you all were just worried and I'm sorry for getting upset like I did.” The room is quiet after you apologize. Worry begins to creep but before it makes itself at home you're being hugged.

“We’re sorry too.” Bobby nuzzles her cheek into the top of your head.

“Yeah, we were worried but that is no excuse to push your boundaries.” Crafty thunked her forehead against your shoulder.

“Can you forgive us?” DogDay has his arms wrapped around all three of you and keeps you all trapped in a tight embrace.

Nodding vigorously you feel like crying. “Of course. And thank you for being worried about me. And also I'm sorry for lying about being fine.” You didn't mean to say that last part but you did and now you can't seem to shut your mouth.

“I just… I just woke up this morning and everything was wrong. I didn't feel right in my skin, my clothes. All of it was just wrong. I hate it. I hate me.” You pinch and pull at your belly and you frown.

A red hand comes up and grabs yours. Bobby squeezes your hand in hers.

“Hey don't do that.” She says it softly as you are held even closer.

“And don't hate yourself.” DogDay bumps his forehead against yours.

“And we love you even if you can't love yourself right now.” Crafty states as she runs a hand through your hair.

You're crying, you can't help it. A waterfall of tears is streaming down your cheeks. It's a bit stuffy being so wholly surrounded by the three smiling critters but you don't care. You try to hug them back, only being mildly successful. You want to thank them but you can't find your voice. All you can do is cry as they continue to reassure you.

“We’re here for you. Always.”

#poppy playtime #dogday #bobby bearhug #craftycorn #reader insert #smiling critters x reader #plus size reader #fluff #bad day #feeling uncomfortable in your body #hurt/comfort #hugging #group hug

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akingwithnocrownx · 10 days

Text

Marmalade Jam.

—warnings; fluff, ambiguous relationship, fem!reader.

—words; 631/Drabble

—tagging; @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @terry2227 @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @firexfate @rosaleenablack @thejanecampaign @oops89 @vaguekayla @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firequeensposts @idaofinfinity @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @danzer8705

&&&&&

You ended up at his apartment above the bookshop that evening, wet from the rain, hair clinging to your face, but smiling with a fondness that had him pausing.

You’d ridden your bike all the way there from work, uninterested in driving a car. You hated cars, they made you nervous.

“Again?” He huffed.

He ended up taking you up to his bedroom, and drying your hair gently with a towel, admonishing you lightly, and you let him silently, playing with your fingers in front of you.

“Here, sweet pea. Put this on.” He said, handing you his shirt and sweatpants, before leaving the room to let you dress.

You smelled them. Old spice and whiskey, or something. But it was comforting, like the way he’d dried your hair like you were important to him.

You walked out of his bedroom, finding him in the kitchen with a beer. You paused, “Can I have some of your marmalade jam?” You asked, pulling your lip between your teeth.

His lips curved up, “Only come here for my jam?”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Maybe.” You said slyly.

“Shit, and here I thought it was because you liked me.” He said, leaning against the countertop, watching you dig in the fridge.

You pulled the jam jar out, your eyelashes fanning over your cheekbones. “That too. And your face.” You teased him, “And maybe your hands.” You said grabbing a loaf of bread, and putting some in the toaster.

“Hands?” He tilted his head, hair falling in his face. His sweatpants slid down your hips, and he reached over, pulling them up, fingers brushing your skin.

“They treat me tenderly.” You said, waiting for the toast.

That was when he noticed your fingers, scarred as though someone had sliced at them. A frown pulled at his lips. “Who hurt you?” He asked, voice low and measured. An underlying threat, a bloody promise of vengeance for you. The monster in his eyes coming out, his eyes so dark they were pitch black, like chips of onyx. His fingers white on his beer bottle.

A monster in the dark, you thought, seeing the outline of his ka-bar inside his combat boot and pant leg. The only indication he never felt safe. He never let you see, but you knew the way he’d wake up in a sweat on the nights you stayed over. You understood what it was to have sharks circling you. Demons waiting to possess you.

You’d developed a strange relationship with him since the first time you stumbled into his bookshop, bloody and bruised; more than friend, but not quite a lover. But it was comforting to come to his bookshop, where he’d make you some cappuccinos, and let you read in the corner, the noise of the shop soothing in the background.

But you could never hide from him. Your nakedness before him was both freeing and uncomfortable. You wanted to cover yourself, but you didn’t have to hide.

You looked up at him as you spread the jam on the toast, a generous amount, he would have laughed if it wasn’t for your fingers.

You licked some jam off your finger, “Don’t matter, Billy. I’m with you now, the past is irrelevant.” You said stilted, holding up a piece of toast to his mouth.

He opened his mouth, taking a bite, eyes burning into you, and you didn’t look away from him, letting him see you. He hummed, licking his lips. “Tastes better when you feed me.” His thick New York accent coming through.

And so you both sat there, sharing toast as thunder rumbled, and rain pitter pattered against the window. But you were warm and safe inside with your friend or maybe lover, and that was all that mattered.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

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theemmtropy · 7 months

Text

Beard Care, a Gale x Transmasc!Tav fanfiction

Rating: T, for implied sexual feelings. Nothing explicit!

Tags: Domestic, wholesome, transmasc/trans man Tav, second person POV, supportive Gale, facial hair shaving, shaving with straight razors

Summary: Gale shows you how to care for your new beard, reassuring you that he loves you for who you are. [This takes place after you return home with him.]

Yall know this meme:

In my head, this is that, but mlm and trans.

Read here, or on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

Adventuring has had its costs, but in the end, it has been worth it. Thanks to the generosity and gratitude of those you’ve helped, you’ve finally saved up enough money to begin transitioning with the magic potions available in Waterdeep. And the potions have been working wonders.

You wake up in the late morning, the bed cold beside you. Gale keeps odd hours, sometimes staying up late into the night- or waking up incredibly early- to work on a spell or ritual that has occurred to him. You don’t mind, as you often disappear into your own study to work on your own projects throughout the day. You two are alike in that regard: you’re secure enough in your relationship to know that even when you’re not spending time together, you’ll still be excited to share your work at the end of the day.

Getting up, you head to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. To your delight, your scruff is starting to grow into a fuller beard, and you realize that you can ask Gale for advice on keeping it neat.

After getting dressed, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen to find your partner attempting to make pancakes- attempting being the key word.

“I don’t understand, what’s the difference between regular flour and bread flour?” You hear him mutter under his breath.

“Protein content, babe,” you answer, causing him to jump with surprise.

“Good morning love, didn’t hear you come in,” Gale says with a smile. “I’m afraid you’re out of flour…” He gestures to his apron and the floor, both of which are covered with all-purpose flour. An overturned mixing bowl rests on the floor as well, with little cat pawprints indented into the soft white dust.

“I take it Tara got a little antsy?” You ask, getting a broom and dustpan and sweeping up the majority of the mess.

“She thought she saw a mouse,” he responds, chuckling. “I intended to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

You shrug. “It’s okay, I can just make us some Baldurian toast. But first,” you grab his hands and put them on either side of your face. “Feel.”

Gale looks confused at first, then a huge smile breaks across his face. “Tav! Your beard is coming in! Actually from the feel of it, it’s here! Oh how wonderful.”

He gives a kiss to both of your cheeks, and you feel your heart swell. Gale has always been supportive of your transition, had even helped you find a hospital that would sell you the potions needed. When you had first met, you’d been scared that he would find you weird, abnormal. But he’d never treated you any differently than he treated the rest of the party, had always given you respect- and once you’d started your relationship, more than respect. There is no doubt in your heart: Gale loves you for who you are.

“I have a favor to ask, before I get to breakfast,” you say. “Would you help me shave? I want it to look nice, groomed- like yours.”

“Well, I’m quite flattered- though not surprised- that my careful trimming has inspired you in your journey,” he responds, standing up straight and showing off his facial hair.

You laugh and roll your eyes, as he removes his dirty apron and sets it on the dining table. He then leads you back to the bathroom. There, he produces a straight-edge razor and shaving cream. “Now, do you want to do it yourself whilst I instruct you, or do you want me to shave you so you can see what it’s supposed to look like?”

You think about his hands on your face- his gentle, steady, lithe, practiced fingers. A thrill runs through you. “I want you to do it.”

He gives a mock bow. “Your wish is my command.”

You sit on the edge of the tub while Gale fetches a chair from another room. Then, once he’s sat opposite you, he lathers up the shaving cream and applies it to one side of your face. “I’m going to do one side at a time, so I can keep a grip on your face,” he explains, then brings the razor to your skin and gently- but firmly- begins his process.

“Now I will say,” he continues as he works, “I didn’t always know what I wanted to do with my beard. I tried a goatee, that was atrocious. I tried just a mustache, but it made me look too pretentious.”

You try not to laugh, worried about getting cut if you move too much. His free hand holds your head at an angle, his fingertips firm against your jaw and the base of your skull. He is so close, his eyes peering at every detail of your skin.

“I eventually found a balance and shape that followed the angle of my cheekbones, while not disrupting the balance of my facial features.” With this, he completes the one side, wipes any residue off, and then applies more cream to the other side.

You turn your head obediently, which prompts him to murmur, “Yes, good boy.” Your body heats up upon hearing this, but Gale doesn’t even seem to realize that he said it; his brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes never leaving your face.

After finishing the other side and wiping it off, he traces a finger under your chin, down your neck. “Shaving this part is optional, I often just leave it, but I can get it for you, if you want?”

In answer, you lift your chin, craning your neck back to stretch the skin out for him. Gently, he applies more cream, and then places a hand at the bottom of your neck, grasping ever so slightly to keep you still. The cold of the razor sends a shiver down your spine as you feel him draw the blade up your neck, stopping only when getting to the underside of your jaw. Then he repeats the process until your neck is clear of hair.

Wherever Gale’s hands touch, you feel your skin spark with life, with need. If he knows the effect he’s having on your body, he doesn’t indicate it. “There,” he says, pulling away once he’s finished. “Let me get you a damp cloth to rinse your face off, then you can have a proper look in the mirror.”

Your skin turns cold as he removes his hands, and you sigh, wishing the moment could have lasted longer. But when he returns with the washcloth, you quickly wipe your face, eager to see the results.

Standing up and looking in the mirror, you see yourself staring back, as always, but this time you feel more… you. Your eyes well up with tears of joy as you gaze at yourself, until you notice Gale staring at your reflection as well.

“You look quite dashing,” he says warmly. “Though, I’ve always thought so, of course. How else would you have been able to seduce me?” He adds playfully.

You crack a grin at him. “Why, I would have seduced you with all your favorite foods, naturally. Speaking of, I believe I promised you Baldurian toast?”

“Before we get to that,” he says, voice growing lower. “I can think of another intimate activity we should do first.”

You match his stare; there is a hunger in it, but not a hunger for food. “I believe I can think of one, as well.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfiction #bg3 gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #trans #queer #queer fanfiction #my stuff

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: I get so sea sick so easily so I commend the reader for sitting in a barrel as long as she is on the sea. Darras is such a cheeky little thing. But I suppose that is the people of Dorne.

Chapter 38: Tales of the dead

You spent the next day hidden in the barrel, only standing to stretch your legs and spine in the early hours. Darras came back that evening and gave you clean rags as promised.

He turned away as you unwound the dirty bandages away from your body, the Targaryen broach falling into the barrel with a soft clank.

You had stiffened and looked at Darras, but his back was still to you and not reactive of the small sound. Your wound was tender, but the edges were not pink from infection, nor did heat rise from it. You were safe.

For now.

After wrapping your side with the new rags you wordlessly handed the dirty bandages to Darras, who stuffed them away in the back of his breeches before silently leaving you in the hull alone.

You ate the apples and their cores, and the small slices of bread that he brought down with him. The pouch of water, a small mercy that came with every rise of the sun.

The sun had rose and fell once more, before you saw the Dornish man again. His footsteps softly came down the hull, and the familiar rap of fingers came from the lid of the barrel, alerting you to his presence.

Darras helped you stand as he held out a pair of tired brown breeches and a worn white shirt. Both were far too big for your body, and had hastily sewn holes about the edges. The pants were a scratchy cotton and when in your hand, felt far heavier than they looked.

“I could not find anything else that would even be close to your size.” He explained, as you looked down at the clothes in front of you.

You reached an unsure hand out to them, looking at them closely. You pulled the clothes towards you, thanking him as you held them to your chest, no longer having to wear the torn and dirty chemise.

Once again, the Dornish man turned away from you and allowed you to dress in private. You pulled the tattered chemise away from your body before pulling the rough pants up your legs and over your hips.

The material swam on your form as you bunched it at the front, tucking it into your inner thighs to hold them up as you began to pull the dress shirt over the top of your head, struggling slightly with the pull of your injury.

Finally the shirt was over your head, and you tucked it into the pants, holding them up tightly with the fist of your hand. You cleared your throat and Darras turned to look at you.

His eyes swum in delight as he held in a laugh at your appearance. The shirt drowned you, hanging off of your shoulders and sleeves pooling over your hands, whilst the pants only sat on your hips because of the sheer death grip your hand had on them. You watched as he tried to not smile, struggling against his own face.

You looked down at yourself.

You looked ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” Darras guffawed, “I shouldn’t laugh at you.”

You felt ridiculous. And it made you smile.

“I look stupid.”

“You do.” He agreed.

“You couldn’t find me a belt?”

“Ah, little stowaway. Beggar's can not be choosers, can they?” He chastised you smugly.

“This beggars pants will fall if she takes even one step.”

The Dornish man stared at you, holding back his laugh before his eyes caught sight of the chemise laying messily over the side of the barrel. He came forward holding the chemise in front of you both. The bottom was torn and covered in a layer of muck and the back was a deep brown. The memory of Aegon dragging you across the cell floors flickered in your mind.

Darras tore the chemise into strips, picking the longest and sturdiest one before wordlessly flicking his hand towards him, telling you to step from the barrel and out towards him.

You struggled to step over in the large pants with one hand, as the other held them up on your hips. Finally, with great struggle you stood before him, bare feet firmly on the deck of the hull of the Meria.

He lowered his head in silent ask for approval before you wordlessly nodded back. Darras came forward and looped the strip of chemise around your waist, holding the pants tightly against you.

With skilled practice, he tied a thick knot at the front ensuring it would not budge. He stepped back to look at his handiwork before nodding to himself, coming forward again to roll the sleeves of the shirt up until your wrists were visible beneath them.

“A perfect fit.” He joked.

“You should be a tailor.”

“A new life calling.”

You nodded and smiled, thanking him softly, stretching your legs as he watched you in your new clothes, thinking deeply.

“We shall reach Dorne soon.”

You nodded.

“You must listen to me very carefully. If you are caught, we are both dead. And I am quite fond of my head sitting firmly on my shoulders. When we reach the Planky Town, we will meet with an old friend. He has a Fisherman's boat that can take us up to Dragonstone.”

You nodded, feeling hope bloom in your chest warmly as you looked at the man in front of you. The sudden urge to cry rose up your throat, but you swallowed it back down as he continued.

“It is important that nobody sees you. You must be nobody. You must act like nobody. Do not walk, or talk like you come from King's Landing. Especially within the walls of the Red Keep. My friend, he is trustworthy, but do not trust no other.”

“I trust you.”

“A mistake I am certain, though I always keep my word.” He was so nonchalant about the whole process that it almost set you at ease.

“How do we get to your friend?”

“Ah.” He looked at you more sharply now, “Now that is entirely up to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. There are three options that I have thought over in my hammock at night, all have their faults, and their strengths.”

“What are the choices?”

“One: You wait in this barrel, until the entire ship is empty of crew, captain, and guards. Then and only then can you slip away.”

“What are the faults?”

“The ship may never be empty, and the cargo is to be checked and removed from the hull, and then refilled, for its journey back to King's Landing.”

You swallowed.

“The second option is that you use this disguise, pretend to be part of the crew and slip away with me when the time is right.”

“And?”

“You do not look like a part of our crew. You are far too small, your clothes do not fit, and you are a woman. Despite all this, someone would recognise you if you were seen. There are no silver haired women in Dorne. Thus, blowing our cover.”

“And the third option?”

“The third option is we need a distraction…”

You waited for him to finish, but he didn’t.

“Did you have one in mind?”

“Some. But only one seemed to stick in my mind, and I follow my gut. I think it was telling me that perhaps option three has the best chance.”

“And what is the distraction?”

“Many women walk the port offering… services to the sailors and tradesmen who come through. Men who have spent days, weeks, months on the sea without feeling the warm touch of a woman’s flesh, if you understand what I am talking about.”

“You wish for me to pretend to be a whore?” You watched as Darras’ eye twitched at your comment, before he steeled his expression, continuing.

“What other choice do we have? I don’t see you telling me of any options you have concocted? Do you have a better idea? The men on this ship, and on this port, would not blink an eye at a woman who has somehow snuck on board to steal herself a man, nor would they blink an eye at me walking away with her.”

You thought about it for a second. It could work. But there was only one problem.

“And what if I am recognised?”

“Ah, little stowaway, I am so glad you have asked. I noticed that inside your barrel, you have a cloak, and although many of the women at port wear fine silks and embroidered cloaks, you would fit in. If you kept that cloak snuggly around your head, and after half the men have left the ship and the workers have helped to unload the cargo, then we could walk together hand in hand. If you keep your head down, and do not speak, it should work.”

You breathed before nodding.

“That's it? You agree?” He asked.

“I don’t have much choice.”

“Well, it is the right choice, because it will work. I have a good feeling about this.”

“What will you do with the gold?”

“Start anew.” His hands came up to the of his body before slapping heavily against his thighs, though something in his eyes told you he was not telling you the whole truth. You looked at his face, there was a small sadness to it. No man would risk so much if there was not something on the line.

“You’re in love.”

“I am.”

“Who is she?”

“A girl, much like you, running away from trouble and doing what she has to survive.”

“Does she have a name?”

“She does.”

You sensed he did not wish to tell you it, so instead you asked another question.

“Does she know you love her?”

“She does, though I should tell her more.” Darras' eyes held a bittersweet look to them.

“What is she like?”

“The most beautiful woman I have ever known. Her kindness knows no bounds, her hair is as soft as the finest silks, and her voice is as sweet as honey. She has these dark eyes I get lost in.”

“Does she live in Dorne?”

“She lives in Planky Town.”

“Is she a daughter of a sailor?”

“No.”

“What does she do?”

“She works at the port.”

“Oh! Does she work in trades?”

“She works the port.”

Oh.

You understood now why he reacted the way he did to your comment about your disguise.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did, it was unkind.”

“It is what everyone thinks and says.”

“It still is not right. She is surviving, just like the others.”

He nodded.

“Where will you both go with the gold?”

“I do not know.”

You nodded and stood in the silence for some time, before he nodded at you and began to ascend the stairs back up to the top deck.

“Darras?” You whispered out to him.

He paused and turned to look at you.

“Thank you.”

The Dornish smiled, “I will come for you when the time is right. Stay hidden.” And with that he left you in the hull, feeling guilty for what you had said, and all the more nervous for what was to come.

You sat yourself back inside the barrel for what felt like hours. Rethinking your comment you had made. Women were not given luxuries in this world, and you were far more privileged than any other. And although you did not have many choices, you hadn’t even thought that the women of differing circumstances had less choices either.

Women were not often allowed to run businesses, or permitted into spaces with men. Instead married off young, to become wives and mothers, and those who did not, working in Pleasure Houses. Those who were not born into money, often struggled to find it.

How could you look down your nose at people surviving?

The crew above you became louder and more active, walking across the deck and barking orders at each other. When a large splash came from beside the ship, its hull swaying gently against the rolling waves.

You must have landed at port.

The noise above you was deafening, as men clunked about on the deck, causing your heart to jump in your chest. You sat quietly and waited, hand feeling beneath you for the broach. You found it with your fingertips before tucking it into your bandages, pulling the cloak over your head tightly as you waited.

Four sets of loud footsteps clunked down the steps, the men conversing with each other casually, the sounds of crates and barrels scraped loudly, as they were pulled away back up onto the top deck.

You waited in the hull for some time, listening to the men come in and out, emptying the hull, their footsteps coming closer and closer each time they arrived. It felt like you had been inside for longer than anticipated and your hands became clammy.

More footsteps came and you felt yourself becoming anxious.

When would Darras return? Was he going to? Or had he run off ship to alert the authorities, readying them to take you back to your uncle, the Usurper King?

The crate beside you scraped loudly as it was hauled upwards, the men grunting as they moved.

You listened to them loudly go up the stairs and suddenly you were alone. You waited and waited, for any sound of them returning, and heard none until suddenly a pair flew down the stairs.

“Get out.” Came the whispered and hurried voice of Darras as he approached your barrel.

Your legs pushed beneath you, hauling you upright out of the barrel, the lid noisily crashing against the floor. Your eyes widened as you looked at Darras who’s head whipped to look up the steps.

“Oi!” Came a booming voice from upstairs, steps coming towards the staircase. “Don’t you be dropping anything!” The feet began to descend the steps.

Darras rushed towards you and kicked the lid away from where you stood before whispering.

“Trust me.”

His hands grabbed your face before kissing you roughly, his lips colliding with yours in a hurry, hands holding the side of the cloak against your face, hiding you from the footsteps behind him.

Your eyes were open in shock as the Dornish man kissed against you hurriedly, pulling you tightly against him. His lips were soft, though his teeth clashed against yours in urgency. You felt a heat rise up your neck.

The steps came down closer and the voice boomed again.

“Who’s that?”

Darras pulled his lips from yours, eyes wide as he silently told you not to react. The Dornish man turned his head sheepishly as he went to look at the man who stood at the bottom of the hull now, watching you both carefully.

“Darras, you sly dog.” The man laughed, looking at you both as you kept your eyes down and hood tight against your face, concealing your hair.

Darras let out a breezy laugh. A performance was in play. Something you believed the man has had to do before. The Dornish man turned and stood in front of you, hands up as he cockily tilted his head letting out a sigh.

“You know you can’t have women on the ship, Cap’n will murder you.”

“I know, but it has just been so long, and the thrill of the risk…” He trailed off.

“Go on, get. Before he sees you.” The booming man spoke, laughing slightly at it all.

Darras turned to you and sighed silently as he held one of your hands, before roughly pulling you towards him. Your feet carried across the floor lightly as you kept up with the older man's pull. You felt the other man's eyes on your form as you walked past him and up the stairs.

Once atop the stairs you looked about.

It was night and dark, and lanterns were lit and hung around the deck of the ship. Darras pulled you close to him as eyes looked you over from other crew, you shot your head down, instead looking at the wooden planks of the floor.

Darras came to lean in your ear and whispered, “Laugh as though I had something naughty.” He rushed, though you could hear the performative smirk on his lips.

You let out a giggly peel of laughter as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you down the drawbridge plank to the wooden deck of the port. Your heart raced in your chest as he continued to pull you along with him, your head tucked down as the hood was pulled down tightly around your face.

You did not take your eyes from the ground, watching your feet pad along the wooden port and then onto large stone bricks. You did not know if you could even ask him a question, and so you stayed quiet, hoping he would give you signal enough when the time was right.

Darras’ grip on you was tight, but kind and even though you did not know what awaited you, you trusted your instincts and felt safe with this man. Perhaps he would not lead you to your doom after all.

You had little choice.

“Just a little further, stowaway.” He whispered in your ear.

Feet rushed to stay in time with him, and you felt your side twinging in pain from the exertion of it all. A small grunt passed through your lips as you walked beside him, his pace slowing slightly.

“Sorry, I forgot about your…condition.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered back.

His hand guided you to turn with him and your feet stepped back onto a wooden deck, although this time, it was much smaller and thinner than before, and the wood had rotted away in some places by time and wear of the sea.

His shoes echoed confidently on the deck as he pulled you with him, calling out into the night air.

“Sumayl!” He called.

You lifted your head.

In front of you was a small fishing boat. It had a bright orange sail with a red sun and gold spear through the centre. The sigil of House Martell of Dorne. Though the ship was far too small to be owned by any Prince or Princess of the House Martell, the ship would be a runner for fishing.

“Sumayl.” Darras called again, looking at the ship as you both waited.

The boat was beautifully crafted, and you could tell that the owner took very good care of it. The wood was clean and polished, and the sail sat unripped and unstained. A sound came from within the ship's bowels, as a man, no older than your father emerged from within.

He was tall and tanned, and his body was muscular. He had black hair that sat in soft waves atop his head, though streaks of grey ran through the front. His eyes were the same brilliant green as Darras and suddenly you felt as though you could be looking at his father.

“Darras.” The man spoke, his eyes shifted to you, “And friend.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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thehistoriangirl · 8 months

Text

The Tides Have Veiled [Six]

Back with the main plot!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Gothic AU/ Spooky Sea AU--- 3.5K---SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T < ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: It's time for you to decide how further down are you going to walk this unknown path guiding you toward the cliff...

Taglist: @local-mr-frog @lunar-monster @bittercyder

White noise filled your brain, like the static of the old radio atop the beacon room. “Excuse me. I don’t think I heard you correctly—” you started, but Viktor only looked more embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid you did.” Viktor left the spoon on the tiny porcelain plate, the white cup stained with black coffee. The echo of his voice hung heavy on the still air of the house, with your mind scrambling for words, to elicit any sound out your mouth.

Was this a joke? Or did your family come to threaten him? The mere possibility sent a void to devour your stomach. Eyes tried to scan the leftovers of your aunt and uncle's coffees, the crumbs of bread as if that way they would guide you back to the truth.

Though the only thing you found was chaos, tangled fishing nets as thoughts inside your brain.

“Why?” you heard yourself saying. The house magnified the sound of your voice, trying to fill the empty corners of the house. “Did my family come to push you into this? Because if that's the case, then…” Then you were trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. You couldn’t even finish that sentence.

“I assure you, I'm making this decision out of my free will," Viktor said. “Please listen to my reasons, and then, if you’re not convinced, we will forget about this conversation whatsoever.”

You wouldn't think it would be so easy. Though curiosity gnawed at you, making you lean in closer.

Instead of telling you, Viktor fabricated a newspaper from the cushions behind him. Slightly wrinkled at the corners, it had been rolled up into a stick. You could smell of essence of coffee beans and Viktor’s detergent embedded into it.

The font was strange to read at first, words deemed alien under the nervousness sieging your brain.

It was an open contest for a teaching position at Piltover University due in three weeks. You looked at Viktor with a slight frown, but as you kept reading, with Viktor sipping his coffee—more out of nervousness than for thirst, you quickly understood why he had asked you so.

Among the requirements, you saw enlisted:

Present research proposal written on typewriter—handwritten papers will not be accepted. Maximum of ten pages per entry. [See appendix 2.2] From 27 years old onwards. Ph.D. in Marine Biology or similar required. Preference will be given to researchers B, C, and part-time listed within the institute. To apply to the research tier A list, the applicants should submit proof of economic and personal stability, i.e., a housing contract within the city or its outskirts, a marriage certificate, and a letter of non-debitance from Piltover’s Bank. [See appendix 3.4]

Marriage certificate? “Why would you need to be married?” you asked.

Viktor sighed as if he had argued the same question over his superiors before. “So we can assure that nothing… eh, improper, occurs between students and the faculty.”

“I don’t think these requirements can change much on that,” you stop from saying.

“Exactly.” Viktor gestured, exasperation tinting his voice. “Sadly, there is no use. I can’t change the rules all by myself, even if I wanted to.”

You grimaced. “But I suppose you want the position?”

His eyes brighten, like those of a cat. “Yes. Of course, I do. I've been working under a B-tier pool of researchers for years, even signing a position to be a part-time teacher for some seminars once two months.” Viktor looked away from you, toward the closed entrance door, the crystal from the window barely filtering the white hue of the sunlight pooling inside the oak floorboards that the green carpet didn’t seem to cover perfectly. “Alas, I’m lacking a requirement of the list.”

Your voice got out in a trembling thread. “The wife.”

“You don’t have to accept,” Viktor quickly added, passing a hand through his hair. “Actually, I apologize for having told you. It was truly unprofessional, and for that I’m sorry. It wasn’t my wish to make you uncomfortable.”

As he babbled, you looked at him; the coat open showing a brown vest, and white dress shirt underneath as if he were ready to give a class in an auditorium filled with eager students. So contrasting with yours, wrinkled and second-handed. The dress shirt tucked under your black pants was his, for example.

You would have never thought of Viktor as someone who would struggle to find a wife. He was kind and intelligent enough to have a job at Piltover University as a researcher—if the books and drafts for articles in his office were proof enough to convince you. And then it was his superficial looks alone; face carved in pale marble, all edges and elegance, eyes like honey pools. You remembered them gazing at you just as sweetly, last night.

Last night, inside this house muddy footsteps trailing after you.

Your mind couldn't stop from feeling hurt by his sudden rejection. An ache that reverberated in your chest was all too familiar.

“Haven’t you thought about looking in the city? I’m sure there must be someone well-suited for you there.”

Viktor chuckled, but the sound was hollow, his eyes looking at his lap.

“I suppose it’s easier to propose when the other person knows the darker part of me,” Viktor said with an awkward chuckle, the dim light of the foyer hiding the slight flush dusting his cheeks. “Life in the city is much different than here, which is why I don’t have any reliable options to pursue in New Piltover.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

The owner of a crumbling lighthouse, of a haunted manor. Who in the city would keep up with this ridiculous myth? Especially not if said cursed man was a researcher of science, teaching at the University.

Did he care about those tales after all? Did he believe in them?

“If I say yes,” you ventured. “Just hypothetically. If I say yes, what’s on it for me?”

His eyes glued you with your back straight against the couch. “What do you wish to have, Miss? I’m sure we can arrange a deal advantageous for both.”

The answer slipped from your mind as soon as he finished his sentence.

Freedom. I want to choose.

Would it be alright if you chose to end up married to him if that was the same thing you were running about? Viktor seemed to think about it, too.

“It would only be a legal marriage, no other duties attached,” Viktor told you. "I only need the paper, as I rarely assist with social events anyway." He reclined on his seat, his right arm resting over the couch’s backrest. “What do you wish to do if you weren’t yourself? If you weren’t here?”

You left his words to seep into you, making your heart feel tight, almost claustrophobic inside your ribcage, of your body inside this house. Of your life trapped in this tidepool that was Piltover the Old, expecting to run out of oxygen.

“I want to go to school,” you muttered, the words barely audible over the silliness that bathed you. Years of mockery behind the slouch of your shoulders. Why study? What you have to learn to do is to tie a fish net. And you better hurry. “I want to be like my mother.”

At least, as the fake stories of her had shaped her presence as a trail on a wild forest barely cut through, but with the path cut wide enough for you to slip. Another marine biologist went days adrift on the ocean, trying to ask its secrets.

Viktor hummed. “I can certainly help you study for the admission exam if you wish to enroll in Piltover’s University or any other college in the city. And, of course, I will raise your salary, too.”

It wasn't just about the money. Sure, you needed every penny thrown your way, but there was this… force, that seemed to pull you back to this town, even when your mind tried to flee it on every vigil, of imagining a life outside these waves smashing the crying cliff, out the tiny hut near the coast where a simple fisher boat was tightly knotted onto a makeshift mossy dock.

Your mother had a steady income, and yet she returned, and then she couldn’t get out—even if she had wished to, having regretted her mistake.

You were afraid of having a tie that would call you back.

Viktor stood out on the couch, his cane moaning when he grasped the handle with his free hand, piling the dirty dishes and cups into a tray.

“I should go back to, eh, to work,” Viktor said, barely meeting your eyes when you raised your head toward him. “I advise you to do the same, Miss.”

You nodded, pretending his words weren’t still swirling in your mind. “Thank you, Viktor,” you said, voice strained. “Thank you for last night.”

He gave you a small smile. “It was nothing—and don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. Quite the contrary, I’d say.” Viktor stopped his movement of tidying up the table, putting his cane in the crook of his elbow to offer you his hand. “I hope we can still be friends.”

His pale fingers were tinted with black ink when you slipped your hand through them, feeling the rough and cold surface.

“I hope so, too,” you answered, barely any force on the handshake. A hypocrite action, when you knew how it felt to be between his arms with a storm raging on your back.

*~*~*~*

It was a particularly slow night. A grey world painted in lazy brushstrokes between flashes of gold.

You felt the cold embracing your skin, no matter how many blankets you had snuggled around your body. Still feeling the cold rock scrapping your feet, the wind pushing you off the edge. Same imbalance, with your feet, propelled over the table you had moved from the control room to the beacon, wanting to look at the windows, your mind still not forgetting the strange silhouette that had peeked through the waves nights ago.

Viktor’s words had been haunting you all day, from harvesting the first tomatoes from your garden to each meal you cut with your fingers in front of the crackling fire.

He had promised you to find another lighthouse keeper as soon as you wanted to leave—it was in the contract laid in a corner of the table. But then what? Your mind hadn't dared to wander to what was outside the coast. Go to New Piltover? What for? You thought of working in a fish market, boots stained with bloody, rosy water, the stench of your homeland following you at every step.

Viktor had more books than the ones you had seen in your entire life, even if your mother's ones were almost painted in your mind, every word blurry from the dancing flame of the lamp as you read them at night. He could help you study for the exam, but for that, you needed an excuse to spend time with him.

As you looked out the window, two paths opened in your mind. One in which you would remain in here, and then, one day, you would see Viktor walking down the beach with a woman from the city, a flowy dress moved by the breeze. He was gesturing toward the tidepools left after last night's storm. Then, his golden eyes would feel your gaze, waving at you from up the lighthouse beacon.

As the night grew, the sky darker and the cold persistent, he disappeared as the tide rose. No matter how much you wished to, you couldn’t be swept by the sea.

The cliff cried outside your window, the crystal shaking with the tremble of the foghorn. You put your hand against the cold surface, swiping away the mist accumulated from your breath fanning above it.

There, on the beach, you saw it. You saw her.

The pale figure of a woman standing, grey and white like created from the mist outside. Hair was wet and stuck on her scalp; algae grew from her thin skin, barely keeping her bones conjoined. She blinked in and out of focus as the lighthouse turned on its vigil, a dark shadow bleeding from her torn nightclothes toward the tides leaping the coast.

Even if you couldn’t see her eyes from above her overgrown bangs, you felt her gaze pierce through your soul as if a harpoon had gone through bone and flesh.

With your hand still glued to the crystal, the numbness expanding from your cold fingers down your arm and your stomach, the woman raised a hand toward you and waved.

This is how your mother would’ve looked, a thought crawled to your brain. If she had been found.

You barely recollected the scream tearing its way out your mouth, throat sore as it echoed inside the beacon’s room, competing against the wail of the foghorn.

In answer, the woman opened her black mouth, putrid water soaking her dress as she screamed back in a wail that echoed like that of the cliff.

The pocket of your pants felt heavy and hot, your free hand prickling with the edges of the shell as you grabbed it with so much force, that you were surprised when it didn't break.

Looking out the window, the woman was gone.

You looked at the open logbook, the one with yellow pages, and soaked in time. The one forgotten inside this beacon.

She came in with the storm, leaving no rock unturned, no place to hide, all while looking for him. The words smudged, blurred by run-on ink. He seemed to mix with her.

Looking for her. Looking for me, your mind conjured. Looking for me.

You looked out the window, cold fright stopping you from moving the seat further away. But the beach was clear now.

“Mother?” you muttered, your brow against the window, your body growing limp as the sleep lured you into its cold and stiffened arms. But you jumped away, because this feeling seemed familiar, and you knew it shouldn’t have been.

Another cage. That was why. First, it was your family's hut, then, this lighthouse. This whole town. Was it the sea, too? All the ghosts that held prisoners under its waves crying and pleading for help. Angry to get out.

The next morning, you saw from the edge of the lighthouse the little silhouettes of your family going out of the hut and up the cliff. They looked like ants trapped in an unsurmountable bay. Other specimens are trapped in this tidepool.

And they weren’t alone—a well-dressed man, probably in his fifties following them up the steep carved steps until they disappeared from your peripheral vision.

You knew which was their destiny, as there were only two options up here. Hearing the echo of keys opening the metallic gate of the lighthouse, you ran to the control room, the door swinging close slowly, not wanting the wood to give away your presence.

“Miss?” Viktor called, and your movement froze. "Are you asleep?"

You looked at your reflection in a paint-stained mirror. Hair scattered like a bird's nest, black eyebags. Your skin seemed paler, too, as if seeing the ghostly woman had stolen some life essence from you.

You poked your head above the rail. “I’m here!” Recoiling, you added. “Give me a minute.”

A quick groom later, you bounced down the stairs, your boots squeaking against the wooden floorboards you had polished not so long ago.

Viktor was sitting at the table, facing the cold hearth. You could see his hand flying over the papers as he scribbled away, back slightly hunched.

Clearing your throat, you stepped next to him. He jumped slightly, and your hand hovered over his shoulder to soothe him.

“Ah, my apologies,” Viktor said, fidgeting with the handle of his cane. “I just…” He gestured away. “I just don’t want to be distracted today,” he said, his eyes looking toward the exit.

“You saw them, too?”

Viktor nodded, leaving his pen. "They know we're not engaged. So I assume that the new man they’re flanking is your suitor.” He scrunched his nose. “Up close, he looks like an ex-landowner.”

You frowned, taking a seat on the cot. “How do you know that?”

“His suit doesn’t fit him very well, which means he just started wearing these types of clothes,” Viktor explained, brows pinched in focus. “There are a lot of newly rich ex-landowners in New Piltover, they sold off their lands to the big construction companies, and now they’re squandering all their money.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Then, you wouldn’t marry him?”

He looked at you with an amused glimmer in his eyes. "Not unless you wish to get indebted in the near future.”

Something deep within you told you that there was no escape from such destiny. But pushing away the thought, you said:

"What are you working on?" you said, hearing your family pounding on the entrance door. This one was locked, and the lesson was perfectly learned.

“Tracing routes from sightings of sperm whales,” Viktor told you. “To see if they fit the ones which have a myriad of stories about krakens.”

You blinked away your sudden confusion. “Pardon?”

“They could be giant squids,” Viktor commented, and you wished to have started that book he lent you instead of watching the damn window.

“I didn’t know you’re also interested in legends.” They weren’t cold, justifiable science, much less a valid source of knowledge.

He smiled at that. "There is an entire department dedicated to studying these tales. They're very enlightening, Miss."

“How so?” You sat, elbows on your thighs, trying to lean as much closer to him as it was possible.

His golden eyes shimmered as he gazed down at you as if he could sense the shell tucked in your pants pocket.

“They tell us what frightens people.” Viktor shrugged. “And most of the time, they have a very valid reason to fear.”

You looked away, your mind marked by muddy footprints, by the white silhouette that could still appear every time you blinked too fast. Goosebumps appeared on your arms.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, observing how you tried to make yourself a ball.

“I… I just…” you whispered, feeling your throat tight, the feeling of containment only augmented with each bang on the door. “I just wish to get out of this place,” you said, feeling like a stupid child. Dreaming too big, settled only for disappointment.

“But I can’t do it alone.” A hiccup ripped out your chest, making you shiver. “I hate that I can’t do it alone.” The sea is going to pull me back.

The chair creaked, Viktor’s hand gently patting your shoulder. “Nobody can do everything alone, Miss,” he whispered. “It’s not weak to ask for help.”

You looked at him, your faces so close you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. “If I marry you, can you help me get out of here?”

His golden eyes widened. “Miss, you don’t have to do this just because of—”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You bit your lips. It was a foolery to tell him about your fear of the sea trapping you here forever, Viktor would think you were out of your mind, he would replace you with another lightkeeper. You would have nowhere to go, not when you didn’t have a concrete way you wished to follow. “I just… there’s no other way.”

I know there isn’t.

“Please, Viktor,” you told him, voice barely above a mutter. “Help me get out of here.”

From up close, you saw his widened eyes darkening, a passing shadow that could have been from the regret of telling you such a proposal, to sadness. Even pity and that thought made you almost take your words back, but the image of the ghostly woman waving you from the window stopped you.

She greeted you as if she knew you would end up in the same place she was. Alone on this beach, trapped in sand and waves even after death.

He inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ll help you,” Viktor said, his hands recoiling from your touch. They were trembling until he grasped the handle of his cane with so much force his knuckles became white. “If that’s your wish, then I promise, I’ll help you get out of here.”

Your hands were fists. “Then I’ll marry you.”

Viktor looked at you with worry. “I told you, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll do it,” you cut him. “It’s only fair. I don’t want to owe you anything. I’ll work for you as your lighthouse keeper, as your fake wife. A fair retribution.”

“At least think it over tonight,” Viktor offered. “Once you’d signed the paper, there is no coming back.”

You remembered the night terrors, shivering.

“There’s nothing to think over,” you said, even if it was a lie. “I know there are more scary things out here than a marriage I’m actively choosing to be a part of.” One that could give you what you wanted, with someone who could help you find a reason, a purpose to stay in the city. To help you meet new horizons besides grey and rainy dusks bathed by the ink-black sea.

Your words made him purse his lips, but he didn’t ask anything—to your relief. You weren’t sure what could get out your mouth if he made you confess. Would he believe you?

“Alright,” Viktor said with a sigh after a little eternity of dreaded wait. “Then, please prepare a suitcase as soon as possible.” The bang of the door has ceased ever since minutes ago, but the same thump, thump, thump, echoed in your heart at a rushed pace. “We’re going to the city the day after tomorrow.”

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane x female reader #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane viktor fanfic

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Hi there. If you’ve got the time could I ask for some soft Cody or Boss please? This week has been super hard and I just need some comfort to just help me get through the rest of the year and into the next

In Your Eyes

Summary: Cody gets home from work, and you give him the welcome he deserves.

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader

Word Count: 750

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sometimes Cody just speaks to me, other times he's much less agreeable. This is one of those other times, but I hope you like it in spite of that!

You hum a soft tune as you stand in your kitchen, absentmindedly forming dough into loaves to be baked. It’s a nice day, the sun is warm, and your window is open allowing the summer breeze to waft through the house.

For the moment, you’re home alone.

It’s your day off, which naturally means that you spend the morning cleaning, and the afternoon baking. All of the windows in your home are open, and the doors are propped open as well.

Unlucky that your boyfriend had to work today, but he promised that it would only be a half day, and he sent a comm not that long ago promising that he would be home shortly.

You finish making your loaves of bread, and you stick them in the oven, before you busy yourself with cleaning the mess you’ve made.

And just as you finish cleaning up, you hear the screen door click shut, and the sound of familiar, heavy, footsteps. You put the last of the dirty dishes into the sink, and turn to walk into the front hall.

There he is.

Half dressed in his white and orange armor, Cody is sitting on a bench, methodically removing each piece of armor with a swiftness that never fails to surprise you.

You lean against the doorframe and watch him.

“I can feel you staring, cyare.” Cody says, his voice warm and filled with laughter.

“Well, if you weren’t so starable, then I wouldn’t stare so much.” You tease gently, before you push off the door frame and sit on the bench next to him, laying your head on his shoulder, “How was your day?”

“Obi-Wan lost his lightsaber three times today,” Cody replies lightly.

“...I thought you were just doing paperwork?” You ask, as you trail your fingers up his spine, pulling a shiver from him.

“We were. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so annoying.” He finishes stripping off his armor and sets it to the side, sitting back up to look at you properly, “You’ve been baking?”

“Of course.”

Cody chuckles and brushes some flour off your cheek, before he leans in and kisses you. The kiss starts soft and gentle, but he’s unable to help himself as he cradles the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

“Mm, the windows and doors are open,” You warn him as he pulls you onto his lap.

He peeks up at you, his hands dipping under the back of your shirt to slide up your back, “I know, cyare.” He replies, his touch gentle and reverent as he slides his hands up your back, “I just missed you.”

You lean into him and kiss him quickly, before you move your lips to his jaw and kiss up to his ear, “You work too hard, love.”

“I know you think so.” He replies, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m always right, didn’t you know that?” You ask as you kiss right below his ear.

He releases a shuddering groan, “You’re trying to get me into trouble, cyare.”

“I would never,” You mumble against his neck, as you nibble on the spot that just made him groan, pulling a lower moan from his lips.

“Cyare-”

You pull back and smile at him lovingly, and you feel his breath catch. His hands slip out from the back of your shirt, and he cups your face with his hands, his thumbs trailing lightly against your cheekbones.

“Cody?”

“I love you,” He breathes out, his fingers feather light against your skin, “I love you so much.”

Your face heats slightly, but you just lean in and lightly press your forehead against his, “I love you too.”

“I’d give you the galaxy, if you asked.” Cody says.

“I have all I want right here,” You reply softly, as you card your fingers through his hair.

“Cyare-”

You glance at your chrono, and then you smile, “Come to the bedroom with me, love, and I’ll show you how much I love you.”

His fingers stutter on your cheek, and he releases a low groan, “Kriff, cyare-”

“Please?” You breathe against his cheek.

He wraps his arms tightly around you as he suddenly stands, and you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. Cody takes a moment to kick the front door shut, “I just can’t say no to you when you say please like that, cyare.” He says as he walks you into the bedroom, and drops you on the bed.

#star wars #tcw #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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mixedstyles · 2 years

Note

anything alaya related plsss

Instagram Blurb

you ask and you shall receive

Harry and alaya!reader annoying each other via social media

ALaYA Masterlist | Masterlist | ask box!

34,578 likes

areyoulistening classes are starting back up so i thought i’d pull this from the one direction side of tumblr circa 2012. HELPFUL HINT: if he’s your lab partner, run :)

View all 262 comments

fandomcentral AFVDFUNGD Y/N IS A FUCKING ICON

adoreuclub stop I remember reblogging this in my 1D tumblr days 😭🫣

harrystyles My lawyers will be contacting you shortly.

↳ areyoulistening JustHarryThings 🫶🏼

hrryfan I love that the first Harry photo she’s posted is a 2012 tumblr photo imagine

↳ areyoulistening gotta respect where i came from🫡

user007 Harry being y/n’s favorite 1D member: confirmed

↳ areyoulistening wrong. i was a niall girl🫣💀

━━━━

12,649 likes

DailyStylesNews Harry via Instagram Stories August 27

View all 147 comments

hsfan2001 Their friendship is keeping me alive

↳ areyoulistening it’s not going to keep him alive for much longer because i’m about to ki11 him 👿

↳ harrystyles JustY/NThings 🫶🏼 @.areyoulistening

↳ areyoulistening YOU CAN’T REUSE MY COMMENT @.harrystyles

↳ harrystyles What are you gonna do? Kill me??? @.areyoulistening

stylussy their interactions are so entertaining 😭😭

user01 Oh to have Harry Styles as a close friend 😔

↳ harrystyles She blocked me.

↳ user01 HAHAHAHAHA NOOOOO

↳ harrystyles Oh. She unblocked me. But I now have a strongly worded DM from her. @.user01

user007 harry is so active because of y/n. we truly love to see it

↳ fan03 he’s also being super interactive with us too??? like he just replied a couple times to someone’s comment

━━━━

56,016 likes

areyoulistening welcome to my TEDtalk titled: “Bread Might Be Gold but This Look Certainly is Not”. today i’ll be discussing the evolution of male facial hair and what certain styles mean in relation to the times as well as giving tips on how to accurately pick the best style that suits you.

[tagged harrystyles and ted]

View all 1,068 comments

hisgoldengirl Why do people hate his mustache 😫😫 I must know. He LoOkS So GoOd

fannlyfe Are they in some kind of prank war or???

↳ user11 Nah, I think this is just their friendship

↳ fanmade mhmmm their ✨friendship✨ @.user11

harrystyles Geez you really came for my throat with this one.

↳ areyoulistening Was it too harsh? I feel bad now

↳ harrystyles No, no, carry on. Just sleep with one eye open. @.areyoulistening

hrrysgrl fave pic of all time 😌

dumwitch Her fucking caption. Holy shit. HER CAPTIONS ARE LEGENDARY. The fact she tagged Ted talks too 😭😭😭

harryshq Harry I love you, but the mustache is not it

━━━━

1,800,807 likes

harrystyles “Why’s the sun so bright?” she asks as she’s looking directly at it. The sun is bright but she’s not.

[tagged areyoulistening]

View all 6,048 comments

liveloveharry Okay but like… I kind of get it

user_3 I want to know what prompted her to look up at the sun 🤔

↳ harrystyles Literally nothing. She’s just like that. It often worries me.

areyoulistening in my defense, i didn’t think that it would be that bright with the fabric over my eyes.

↳ harrystyles You mean, you didn’t think the SUN would be bright after you put a thin piece of white fabric over your eyes? Yeah I definitely see the logic there @.areyoulistening

↳ areyoulistening HEY NO NEED TO GET SNAPPY. ARE YOU STILL MAD OVER THE MUSTACHERRY POST? @.harrystyles

↳ harrystyles wtf is a mustacherry? And no I’m not mad over it smh. I just care about your overall health and general wellbeing. You staring at the sun negativity impacts said wellbeing. @.areyoulistening

↳ areyoulistening awww he cares 🫶🏼 @.harrystyles

↳ harrystyles Of fucking course I care. I want you to stay by my side. You can’t do so if you don’t take care of yourself smh @.areyoulistening

hsfan24 AHSFHEHA HARRY ADMITTING HE LIKES Y/N???!!!???

dailystylesnews So this week we’ve had: y/n and harry officially acknowledge they’re at least friends, us as a fan base once again having the mustacherry conversation, and harry ruining is ig aesthetic to post a photo of y/n… anything else?

↳ allthatmatters he also publicly admitted his feelings for her 🫢

I realized I forgot to tag everyone… days later.

tag list: @theekyliepage @tati813 @reveriehs @thomaslefteyebrow @mxltifxnd0m @gothmingguk @b-reads-things @noooovaaaaa @be-with-me-so-happily

(let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

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softmick · 6 months

Text

two weeks of weekly tag game wednesday but it’s actually thursday (i filled out last week’s on time but never posted the draft 🤷)

🔤Name: meagan

🗺️Where in the world are you? right now i’m on a train from nikko to tokyo, japan! 🇯🇵

🛀do you have a favorite towel? nope, just one that’s big enough to cover everything.

🪨can you skip rocks? not really!

🤔tell me about a weird slang term from your area: i am totally blanking.

🍞favorite toast topping? salted butter.

🍮thoughts on bread pudding? i love it so much. not a fan of when people add stuff tho like white chocolate sauce or raisins or something.

🌆City or country living? i want both, which is a struggle. being outside and surrounded by nature does great things for my head and heart but i hate not having options for food, concerts, things to do, etc. where i lived in atlanta was a great mix. where i live now in fl is beautiful but too rural.

😸How do you cheer yourself up after a bad day? cozy clothes, blankets, ordering in, chocolate, tea, snuggles.

🌗Are you a pessimist or an optimist? i am generally a “we’ll figure it out” kind of person. but a pessimist when it comes to personal achievement stuff.

🏷️can i tag you in random stuff? yup.

————

🔤 Name: sometimes meg. my parents call me boo.

🎶 Last song you listened to: kyoto by phoebe bridgers because i’m in kyoto!

🎵 Artist on Spotify giving you the feels right now: not an artist but this playlist my sibling made. i can’t listen to it super often or it makes me sad but every once in a while i’ll revisit it and it makes me miss her but also makes me happy.

👯‍♂️ fave blorbo moment: when ian says “i wanna be where you are, mickey” and for mickey the “sorry i’m late” scene

🍟 Your guilty pleasure snack: i don’t feel guilty about food but maybe taco bell?

🌮 What food are you craving today: pizza.

📖 Last fanfic tab you opened: running into you by @juliakayyy gonna read it when i get home.

🖌️ Favorite fic project you've created: umm, it hasn’t been written yet.

👩🏼‍🎤 Next tattoo you want (or would consider if you're not a tattoo person): there are a lot i want. hopefully the next one i get will be a full back piece by savannah colleen. i would also like to get my head tattooed but i’m not sure if i’m ready to cut all my hair off again just yet.

🧐🆓 What's living in your head rent free this week: my partner has been starving for what feels like our whole trip and i can’t stop thinking about mickey saying “don’t worry we’ll get a dick in ya as soon as we can”. i want to respond to every “i’m hungry” with it. also cam as spike.

thank you 😊 to Kat @mybrainismelted Ling @lingy910y Julissa @heymrspatel Jess @jrooc Dyno @dynamic-power Ajax @transmickey River @milkovichrules Sky @skylerwinchester and Julia @juliakayyy for tagging me! 🫶

#hi #tag games

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waterfallofspace · 11 months

Text

The Power Of Suggestion.

The one in which T/oji, G/eto and G/ojo are all hanging out, when G/eto decides to tease G/ojo a little, and they find out something very interesting about their other friend. This is purely indulgent snz nonsense and they will all be sneezing because I say so and because I want to, is my fic, sue me~~ Um so this is absolutely AU, because well… obvious reasons… but just picture the G/eto + G/ojo dynamic exactly as it was (cough lovers cough), but adding T/oji to the mix as he is, just a touch less murderous intent <3.

And SOSOSO much credit to @lycheeehehe for getting me feral over this man and also for the idea that he’s suggestible. (hope you don’t mind the tag <3) PLEASE go check out their headcanon list for him!! I am absolutely using their ideas in this <333 To anyone who bothers to read this nonsense, thank you! And I hope you enjoy~

Characters: G/eto, G/ojo, and T/oji Word Count: 2.2k

(References to swearing, mild violence implications and smoking, in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

Getting a day off at Jujutsu Tech is almost unheard of. There’s always some student that needs training, some mission to oversee, or a mission to do yourself. Getting a day off is almost unheard of, but getting some free time is not. Especially when you happen to be the strongest teachers. I mean… who’s gonna stop you?

This is what leads to Gojo and Geto having a picnic outside in the middle of the day. Geto lets out a sigh, relaxing against the blanket, bathing in the warmth of the spring sun. Next to him Gojo shovels mochi into his face at a rate Geto finds a touch alarming.

“Slow down a bit. Remember, we’re all meant to share those.”

“You’re the one who bought my favourite flavour of mochi! Besides, I brought the alcohol, and you know I don’t like that stuff. Fair trade, isn’t it?”

“Even if I agreed, he doesn’t drink either, so you still have to share.”

“Speaking of which, he’s late. Like always.”

“Cut him some slack. Unlike you, Toji still takes his job seriously.”

“Hey! What is that supposed to mea- Oh, hello there!”

Geto sits up, eyes scanning the field, only seeing Toji’s approach thanks to Gojo’s wave. ‘Despite knowing him for over five years now, I could never get the hang of sensing his presence. I believe he enjoys that fact. It seems to annoy him at times that Gojo catches on so easily.’ Geto offers a laugh, sitting up to meet Gojo’s gaze, sunglasses askew just enough to show the mischief in his eyes. ‘He called out before Toji on purpose, entirely to piss him off.’

“Punctual as ever, Toji.”

“Whenever I arrive I’m on time, long as it’s when I want to get there.”

“Vague as ever as well. Either way, it’s of no matter, good you got here when you did. Satoru’s nearly finished the mochi.”

“I have not!”

Turning away from Toji and back to Gojo, Geto doesn’t miss the powder hanging off his lips. ‘Talking with his mouth full. Still distasteful, even by his standards.’ Grabbing a seat, Toji lets a sigh out, leaning down onto his back much like Geto was previously doing. He throws a comment at Gojo from his position.

“How many pieces remain?”

“There’s at least- uh… t- two…”

“Is that counting the one in your mouth?”

“Umm….”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I want the other one. Throw in some of that meat and we’ll call it even.”

“You mean a sandwich?”

“If I wanted a sandwich I would have asked for one. I said meat.”

A smirk forms over Toji’s face, Geto letting out a chuckle as Gojo passes over the mochi, a sulk starting to form. Reaching into the basket, Geto pulls out a few sandwiches, tossing the bread back in as he hands Toji the meat by itself. ‘Who am I to judge what people eat…’

“Thanks. Now, can I take a nap here, or do you wanna spar a bit first? Been a long day.”

“Can wait till later.”

Gojo offers, waving in a vague gesture before leaning his head down into Geto’s lap. In return Geto lets his hands wander through the white hair, stroking it as Gojo purrs. The sunglasses slowly slip down his nose until Geto pulls them off, setting them aside next to the basket. They stay like that for a minute, light snores starting to pour from Toji, until a smile starts to spread against Gojo’s face.

“What are you-”

“Hey Fushiguro, think fast!”

The cup Gojo tossed lands squarely on Toji’s face, Geto suppressing a laugh at the yelp that escapes from the gruff man. A glare shoots out at Gojo, Toji sitting up with a vicious grin, something dark starting to spread into his eyes. ‘Despite knowing he’s our ally, that look never gets less terrifying.’

“You wanna fight, Gojo? I’ve been craving a good ass kicking.”

“Better run, Satoru. Got a feeling he’s about to beat you to a pulp.”

“I’m sorry! I take it back!”

“I’ll start with that pretty face of yours.”

“Hey- woah- I need my face! How else am I supposed to get out of situations that go bad?”

“Maybe try not letting them go bad? Or, and here’s a new concept to you, don’t be the reason they go wrong, and maybe you won’t get blamed?”

His mouth hanging open, Gojo raises an arm to mockingly drape over his face, Geto still finding himself being used as a human shield. ‘Despite the dramatics, we all know Toji couldn’t put a scratch on your face. Not anymore, at least. You have better control over infinity, and he doesn’t have the motivation.’

“You wound me, Toji!”

“Another handful of meat and I’ll consider the assault forgiven.”

Reaching down to grab the meat, Gojo’s uncovered eyes meet the warm sun, his face immediately ducking into Geto’s chest. Geto in return sighs, grabbing the sunglasses to prevent further outbursts he’ll have to clean up. Toji sighs, grabbing the meat himself while the others are distracted.

“ihh’TIShh’kiew-! eh’gnchh’kiew-! hehh- aiYIShhiew-!”

“Bless. Why did you have to aim that at me?”

“It came on fast. Besides, you’re the one who took off my sunglasses, so really it’s your fault.”

“Oh, is that the game we’re playing?”

“What do you mea-”

“It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive, Satoru.”

Geto smirks as a cautious look crosses Gojo’s features, his nose twitching already. ‘He’s smart enough to know where I’m going with this. Looks like he’s reacting before I even get started.’ A hand raises to scrub at his face as Gojo casts a desperate look towards Toji, who for his part, seems utterly confused. ‘I guess I’ve never showed him this little party trick. He’s in for quite the show.’

“I mean, even the sun sets you off? What doesn’t get your nose itchy? Look at it now, it’s already twitching again.”

“S- hehh… Suguru… dohhhhn’t…”

“It looks almost like a bunny, all scrunched up like that. It must be tickling so much.”

“hAH’aIYshhiew-! heH- dtshhh’kiew-!”

“Oh, bless. Even after those, your nose is still trembling. Does it almost feel like the tickle is gently buzzing through your nose, touching every sensitive-”

“ihh’gEShhh’kiew-! huh’tiSHhew-! huhh… hh- aiyshh-keashh-aiiishhh’iew-!”

Glancing over at Toji to catch his reaction to this little episode, Geto’s surprised to find his head ducking into his chest in a tight bob. Meeting his eyes however, there’s no sign of distress, a gruff chuckle spilling from his chest as Gojo’s eyes start to water. ‘Hm. Must have been nothing. Guess I’ll continue the show.’

“Suguruuu~ thihhhs isn’t- heHh-! fa- ahh… fair!”

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that, what did you say? It’s a bit hard to hear you through those ticklish breaths.”

“eh’GEchh’iew-! hheHHh-! nnNTShh’kiew-! heh’AIYshhiew-! G- god it tihhhckles…”

“How bad? Almost like a feather is tracing your nose?”

“hH’INchhiew-! hahh-! teschhh’kiew-!”

“knt-!”

“What was that?”

“Nothin’ that I heard.”

Geto’s eyes snap off Gojo, searching for the source of the noise. Toji’s response draws his attention, but there’s no indication across his face that he’s lying. Deciding to focus back on his boyfriend ‘Who’s currently attempting to rub his nose off his face apparently-’ Geto lets out a warm laugh, mischief that would rival Gojo’s flashing through his eyes.

“Getting in every corner, leaving little puffs of fluff behind as the tickle-”

“heh’IShhiew-! aihhh… heHhh-! guhh… uhhH- kiEShh’diew-! hNNChh’kiew-!”

“hH’knGt-! eh’dnT-!”

The sound comes again, this time Geto doesn’t miss Toji’s head snapping to his chest with each noise. Once he raises it again, there’s not a trace of any irritation, except a faint hue of pink starting to form around his nose. Geto meets his eyes, watching the tint spread down his cheeks.

“Are you- sneezing?”

“And what of it? Happens sometimes, I’m human after all.”

This catches Gojo’s attention, shifting his focus from his own nose to Toji’s face. His sunglasses tilt down as he seems to analyze the man glaring him down. Geto matches the gaze, catching the way Toji shifts nervously under the stare as his nose starts to scrunch again.

“You sure that’s all? You seem a bit itchy.”

“Just drop it. I’m fine.”

“Well alright!”

Geto offers a warm smile, letting his eyes close as the crinkles form in his cheeks, before pretending to turn his attention back to Gojo. ‘I have a theory to test… but I have a feeling if I’m too obvious he’ll retaliate. Or, more likely, escalate to violence.’ Meeting eyes, Gojo gives him a nod, quite understanding of the plan.

“Look at how pink your nose is getting, it’s practically quivering. I bet you have to sneeze so bad, don’t you?”

“heH’ITChhhiew-! uhh… hihH-! kieshhhew-! hehHhhH-! heH- hH’geNShh’kiew-! aiyshh’diue-!”

Despite knowing it’s not meant for him, Gojo’s nose remains just as sensitive to suggestion, a fit bursting from him before he can prevent it. Geto’s focus shifts back to Toji, watching as his own nose twitches, a fist raising to crush it as his breath snags. Gojo starts to smirk, lightly pinching his own nose to get a few words out before he sneezes again.

“It’s just so itchy.”

“hH’KNgT-! innGDT-! eh’dehNGT-!”

“It’s ahhlmost like the tihhh… tickle… hehHH-! The tickle is just spreaahhhh… spreading throug- heH’IShh’kiew-! Through my n- nose…. hH’tnSHhh’diew-!”

“hH’RRSHHh’oo-! ah’RRUSHH’shoo-! eH’GNZSHhh’aah-!”

Giggles burst from the duo before they can stop them, Toji shooting them a dark look, one that’s completely undercut by the way his nose twitched. Geto gets a hold of himself first, managing to meet the glare with a smirk of his own.

“Geto I swear to god-”

“Your nose is twitching, Toji. Does it itch? Is the tickle slowly spreading up from the tip-”

“I hhhhate you- uh’RSHHH’aa-! ahRUSHhzshho-!

“hh’tiESHh’iew-! hehh… ahhh-! hah’aiiyshhiew-!”

“Fuck- heH’NNZSHhh’aa-! aiRSHH’ouh-!”

Matching sneezes echo from Gojo as he doubles over into his lap, mirroring Toji’s movements as they both palm at their noses. Just as Geto’s about to start laughing again at the adorable sight, he takes notice of the evil grin Toji’s wearing. ‘This can’t be good…’

“Hey Geto.”

“Hm?”

“Play wicked games, win wicked prizes.”

Before he can ask what that means, Geto’s face pales at the cigarette Toji pulls out and lights in one fluid motion, raising it to his lips. Geto opens his mouth to protest but gets cut off by a waft of smoke Toji blows right at his face.

“ih’gxxt’choo-! heh’kxxt’chh-! inxxt’chho-! hh’txxt’chh-!”

“You know what? This actually is pretty funny.”

“tnxxgt’choo-! eh’kshhnt’oo-! eh’keshh’ieuu-!”

Gojo’s practically rolling around with laughter as tears spill freely from his eyes, Toji chiming in with a rough laugh of his own, cigarette hanging from his mouth mockingly. ‘Touche but- knxxgt’chh-! I’m not done in that easily.’ Even his thoughts are interrupted by sneezes. Still, Geto rubs his nose, deciding to use this to his advantage.

“Y- you’re right… hh’dnNShh’iue-! It just ti… tihhhh… tickles so much… it’s like there’s- knxxgt’choo-! This soft feeling slowly- hnXGT’chh-! Invading my nose, running frroohhhm… from the bridge, all the way down… d- down… eH’dnxgt’choo-! Down to the tip.”

The reaction is just as he planned, Toji’s nose practically red from the abuse it’s suffering, starts to scrunch again, giving him only enough time to wrench to the side as the fit begins again. Gojo doesn’t even bother, his trembling nose being pressed into his hands as he harmonizes with his own outburst.

“huH’RRZZShhh’oo-! hehh- hh’zzASHHH’oo-! Geto you- hnNZSHh’uuh-!”

“aiyshh’kiew-! huhh... heh- ihhh’tiEShhiew-! knEShh’diew-!”

“rrRUSHhh’aa-! You’re a dihhhck. hEH’RDJShh’ouh-!”

“aiyshhiew-! hehh.. I h- have to… huHhh-! hh’keshh’chiew-!”

Not able to get the cigarette out in time, Toji leans forward with a light cough, blowing smoke right onto the other two. Gojo’s not as allergic as Geto, but having it blown right at him gets his eyes watering up immediately, Geto not even getting a breath before the next series of sneezes overtakes him.

“eh’gnxsh’ue-! hH’keshh’shuu-! hehknxt’choo-! inxxt’choo-! heh’knxxt’chh-! eh’dnShh’uee-!”

“heH’AIyshh’kiew-! ehh… hiH’eSHh’diew-!”

“Weak, the b- huhh… Both of youuu uhH’RUSHH’aa-! AERSHH’oo-!”

“Not sounding so invulnerable yourself, Toji. eh’aIYshh’diew-! ehhh-! hah’dieshh’kiew-!”

“Okay, okay, you two. We give, you win Toji. hh’knxt’choo-!”

“Like usual.”

The sneezes slowly fade out, laughter replacing them as all three find themselves laying down, gazing up at the sky as they wipe the tears from their eyes. Geto can’t help but smile at the scene, three of the strongest people at Jujutsu Tech reduced to a panting mess from a cloud of smoke and some words.

“I didn’t know you were as sensitive as Satoru.”

“Hey-”

“I’m not. Just a tad suggestible is all.”

“I see.”

“You tell anyone you die, you got that Suguru?”

In lieu of a response, Geto offers an innocent smile, reaching over and tapping the tip of Gojo’s nose. He gets a whimper in response, Gojo twisting around to bury his nose in the blanket as the sneezes start again. Toji winces at the action, chuckling lightly as Geto lays back down.

“hehHH-! eiSHh’diew-! Hahh… hah’kESHhh’iew-!”

“Seems he maintains his position as the most sensitive.”

“Ru- hUH’tIShh’kiew-! Rude.”

“Gross, Satoru.”

“Th- thanksfor- iHH’keSHh’diew-! Thanks for your concern T- tehH’eSHhh’iew-! Toji.”

“Geto, you better make sure he washes that before you put it back.”

“hAHhh… eh’geSHhhh’kiew-! enchshhh’iew-!”

Laughter descends over the three friends once more as Gojo leans into Geto, his arm casually draping across Toji’s chest. Normally this type of overly clingy affection was not stood for, but after the events of today, Toji lets it slide. The three of them close their eyes, bathing in the sun’s gentle embrace once more. For a moment, just a moment, they’re not the strongest, sorcerers, killers, or anything.

They’re just three friends sharing a blanket on a warm spring day.

#waterfallwrites #am i proud of this? not really no. do i want to post it anyways bc its all i got? yep!#its not my best work but i have the brain rot and so it was born #i promise ill write something better for t/oji <33 maybe not super soon but i do wanna give him his own #just right now i was craving all of them #hopefully its still a bit enjoyable behind all the bad writing lmao~~#thank you so much to anyone who bothers to read!!#double thankings to anyone who comments/tags i appreciate you all so much #snz #snzkink #j/jk #s/atoru g/ojo #s/uguru g/eto #t/oji f/ushiguro

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rosze-v · 1 year

Text

red bean soup and the color yellow

pairing: Midousuji Akira x Reader

synopsis: you, the morning girl, a cold night, red bean soup and a scenery he had forgotten

tags: MAJOR MIDOUSUJI PAST SPOILER! , fluff, sunshine x grumpy/cold trope (hihi)

w.c : 1.6k

a/n: Halu! So, I finished YowaPeda season 4 and I'm waiting for season 5 to finish airing and I just want to say, I absolutely love!!!! the anime. I am so angry that its so underrated what?? Its such a good anime, with amazing character, one of the best sports anime antagonists (wink wonk), great plot and just absolutely amazing. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WATCH IT!!! Also, its literally criminal how there’s so little YowaPeda crumb?? So, I decided to start writing for the fandom!! All in all, I hope you have fun reading!

You were craving for some melon bread and ice cream that night. Without much thought, you hopped on your bicycle and went on to your nearest convenience store. A smile spread on your cheeks because the air is cold enough and somehow, tonight feels more calming than other nights. From a far, you could see the glaring lights of the store as you pedal harder.

Once you placed your bicycle at its rightful place, you eagerly went into the store and picked out your cravings. The cashier scanned through your items, three melon breads, two chocolate vanilla ice cream and a can of hot red bean soup. With your goods in your hand, the customers could definitely see the slight hops on your feet, indicating how happy you are.

“Yosh, tonight I’m watching some Attack on Ti- Midousuji?”. You recognized that lanky build, he’s pretty much the only guy you’ve ever seen with such long legs and long arms. He’s wearing black cycling pants, and a fitted, black sports shirt that covers his arms and neck. Upon hearing his name being called, he glances over to you, his eyebrows scrunched, trying to remember where he saw you. Though he’s wearing a white mask, from his big eyes alone you knew he’s trying to remember who you are.

“Morning girl?”. Midousuji mumbled as you give him a toothy grin, walking towards him and plopping yourself beside him. Midousuji cringed as he subconsciously scoots a bit from you. His action didn’t hurt you though, you knew he’s wary of you.

“Its (y/n), How could you forget your own classmate’s name! that’s so not cute”. You complain a pout forming on your lips, tilting your head at him. Though you complain, you also knew that he does not really mingle with your classmates, he preferred to be alone, listening away to his songs from his black ear buds.

But ever since you saw him racing with his cycling club team mates, and seeing how much cycling filled him with life, you greeted him morning every day. Reason? you’re not really sure but maybe you’re just curious of Midousuji, eyes darting towards him in class or whenever he leaves for lunch. Your sudden interest on him was so obvious that your friends had called you out, asking you if you have a crush on him. Of course, you could only shake your head while your heart beats in wonder.

“What are you doing all alone in this cold night?”. You asked, scanning through him and noticing a slight shiver on his body. Well, it has gotten much colder, and compared to your fluffy jogger pants and your long-sleeved shirt, Midousuji is probably freezing his butt off. You reached in your bag and pull out the red bean soup, handing it to him.

He raises his eyebrow as you say. “Go on, you’re cold right?”.

“Its okay-“.

“You’re shivering Midou-kun, either you take this can or I’m holding your hands”. You teased, nudging him with your elbow as he side eyes you, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. You chuckled as you took out your ice cream, fumbling for the small spoon. A content sound came out of your mouth while Midousuji questions how you could eat ice cream on such cold night.

“So… again, why are you here?”. The lanky men stretch his legs, as he sips on the red bean, warmth filling him up. He contemplates on what to say, unsure of the right words to say in these kinds of situations.

“Just… needed to clear my mind”. You nodded, your body swaying along with your nod as you stare into the dark road.

It’s true, Midousuji had went out to clear his mind, plagued by thoughts on his cycling performance lately, his school works, and a slight heaviness on his chest when his mind wanders to the faces of his mother. He had noticed the cold air when he was sprinting through the road, so he thought he wanted to buy some hot packs. It was only when he got off his bike, he realized that he didn’t bring any money in his small bag, and that’s how you found him sitting on the side of the store.

“Come, I want to show you something”. His big eyes glance at your face then glances back at your hand, weighing the pros and cons of taking your hand. Fuck it, he thought, clasping your hand as you pull him up. Both of you then went over to your bikes, and when you were mounting your bike, the man suddenly appeared beside you, his tall build startling you.

The silence between the both of you were thick and frankly, you can’t stand it anymore. So, you stood up, standing in front of Midousuji as he looks at you, startled at your sudden action. You give him a smile as you held out your hand.

“Oh my god Midousuji, give me a heads-up next time”. He snorted as he responds.

“Let’s go, we have class tomorrow”.

“Yes, yes Midou-sama”. He rolled his eyes at your mocking address of him as you began cycling and Midousuji following suit. It didn’t take you long before you reach your destination. You lay your bike against the tree and Midousuji did the same as excitement courses through you.

“I need you to cover your eyes”. You said giddily as Midousuji sigh.

“And what for”.

“Then how the hell am I gonna go there”. You grin as you reach for his hand, clasping it tight. Midousuji could feel his chest tightening at your sudden skinship, while he gives in to your demand and closes his eyes.

“It’s a surprise! Come on, close your eyes”.

“Hold onto my shoulder using your other hand”, and Midousuji did as he instructed, his cold palms creating shivers around your shoulder yet warms his hand. A blush spreads through your cheek as you realize how close the both of you are. You shake your head as you walk carefully to the secret place.

Midousuji can feel the grass touching his legs and when you came to a stop, you had taken your hands back. The man took it as a sign to open his eyes and when he did, he had to blink his eyes a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. When his eyes finally adjusted, he could see you first, grinning at him with your head tilted to the side and your hands clasped behind your back. Then his eyes wander around and finally, he realized what made everything so bright.

Fireflies, everywhere around him, floating, flying across his eyes, the ambience triggers a nostalgia in him. It’s been so long he thought, seeing fireflies. He could feel a childish excitement creeping inside of him, as his hand reaches out for a firefly. The firefly he reached flew away before his finger tips could touch the light. Rustling steps move towards him as you stand in front of him, your hands holding something in your palms.

“Look, I caught one for you”. Midousuji stares down into your hand, a firefly blinking its light for him. Subconsciously, Midousuji shows his palm to you, and gently, you place the firefly in his hand.

“Gently Midou-kun, don’t squeeze it”. He nods as he examines the firefly, his hands ever so gentle, a small smile appearing on his lips.

You had never really thought how attractive Midousuji is, your attraction towards him were merely curiosity. Yet here, with a firefly in his hands and a childish smile on his lips, you could feel blood pumping into your veins faster. Though the smile falters immediately when the firefly flew away, Midousuji’s hand fell on his side. You laugh as you pull his hand and walk a bit further, pulling him down to sit once you reach a tree.

The both of you sit in silence, eyes wandering at how beautiful the fireflies are. A warmth settles between the little space dividing the both of you, creating a sense of tranquil. You peeked at Midousuji, who’s eyes huge and lit, his mouth slightly open. You smile to yourself, so cute, you thought.

“You wanna know what will make this better?”. Midousuji’s trance shifted towards you.

“What?”.

“Give me your phone and earbuds”. He pursed his lips, thinking if he should share a shred of his privacy but he gave in. It’s the least he could do after you show him such scenery.

Midousuji eyes your finger, scrolling through the little amount of apps he have and your hands tap on the app YouTube. You tapped on the search bar and histories of things related to road racing came up and you smirked. After searching for the song, you hand him the left earbud while you hook in the right bud in your right ear. You play the song and Midousuji tries to focus on the song and he realized its in English.

“What’s the name of the song?”. Midousuji asked as he stares at you who’s attention is on the scenery in front.

“Yellow”.

“Why did you choose this song?”. You turn your head towards him, a smile on your face and Midousuji’s heart skips a beat.

“Well the fireflies are yellow you know!”. Midousuji grumbled at your remark, as you laughed at your joke and at how taken aback the boy look. He mumbled an, obviously its yellow, dumbass.

“And because you’re yellow…”. You whispered, hiding your face in between your knees, hoping he didn’t hear you. But he did, and he wanted to question you but he decided against it. You, the fireflies, the song Yellow, the lingering heat and Midousuji’s hand on top of yours, squeezing it; thanking you.

And maybe one day he’ll know why he’s yellow, and how he shines, or how beautiful he is, and how much everything he does is becoming yellow in your eyes.

#midousuji akira #midousuji akira x reader #midousuji x reader #yowamushi pedal #yowamushi pedal fanfic #yowamushi pedal fluff #midousuji akira fluff #midousuji fluff #yowapeda #rsz.w

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