#would Knives be able to just generate a fruit in his hand?

[orcelito]

ok I don't think we as a fandom talk about the way Vash cries blood enough

we only see it once or twice from what I remember, the one definite time being here ^ when the puppet attack first begins & he's dealing with the emotional agony of seeing so many of his family turn into puppets.

so it's clearly something that comes out only when he's in severe emotional distress.

the interesting thing is that Wolfwood is fucking TERRIFIED of him bc of it.

whatever this moment is, Vash is giving off the same sort of oppressive energy that Wolfwood's experienced with Knives. it's the first time during their travels that he's really been forced to recognize What Vash Is. he knew it of course, saw him in Jeneora, but he's such a goofy guy it's easy to forget.

but whatever Vash is doing here, it makes Wolfwood Incredibly aware of what he is.

so the real question i think is What exactly is going on here? is it unintentional? is it simply a response to the emotional agony?

Vash isn't the type to indiscriminately terrify everyone in the vicinity on purpose. he wouldn't be doing this purposefully out of anger while Wolfwood's there. no, in this moment, he's not even angry at all. he's Distraught.

going from This

to this

in just a moment.

yeah. that's some fucking emotional agony. i dont think Vash is doing this entirely on purpose.

but THEN...

as both Leonof and Wolfwood stare at him in fear, Both feeling his oppressive energy, Vash then lets out some sort of blast that blows against everything between him and Leonof. it doesn't destroy anything, doesn't even injure him, but it's a physically tangible effect that scares the Shit out of Leonof & spurs him into motion.

there may be some anger involved in this moment, but it's not the hair-trigger rage you would expect from seeing his family turned into puppets. it's something Quiet, something almost cold. he's distraught, Resigned, & retaliating just because he has to.

Vash hates all of this. he doesn't want to fight him. he fucking Knows this guy too, knew him as a kid, & none of this makes sense. but he knows that he needs to fight him, & doesn't have any kind of choice.

but he's not happy about it. not in the slightest.

#speculation nation #fanny reads trigun #fanny's trigun analysis #trigun #trigun spoilers/ #trimax spoilers/ #adding that tag for tag goers. since this is a very trimax moment. #im just fascinated by the implications here. there's so much we don't see about Vash's abilities. him and Knives both. #there's the implication that he can read people's minds in the way he sometimes responds to thought boxes #and also the entire mental conversation he has with Legato. NONE of this is brought up. #the way Knives created that tree. they obviously can generate vegetation just like their sisters. or at least Knives can. #Vash creates that barrier. which I see as an extreme manipulation of gravity to prevent anything from going through. #and of course there's the explosions. with the angel arm theyre huge. #but then we see at least once Vash turn his finger into a lil canon. aka it can be done in a smaller form #and also the implications of him just making Bomb Bullets? mini versions of his giant explosions? What?????? #so it brings the question of What If they could do these things on smaller scales? would Vash be capable of minor manipulations of gravity? #would Knives be able to just generate a fruit in his hand? #so many weird little things!!!! and we have no idea!!!!!! #but ykno what me as a fanfiction writer my entire PURPOSE is to extrapolate from canon. which includes their weird ass powers. #aka im going to make assumptions from the little bits we see in canon and im gonna RUN with them #definitely looking to do something with This moment too. Vash's oppressive energy... it will Definitely be fun.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Concept, Skull gets hella drunk one night, and the others are doing general drinking games/teasing type of stuff. They decide to crack on Skull cause he's the youngest and so he's probably not got much experience. Cue Skull whipping out an unnecessarily erotic comparison between what he's like as a sex partner and his abilities with a motorcycle.

Reborn refuses to let Skull get on a motorcycle around him ever again, he can't embarrass himself with his thirst like that in front of others.

So I, of course, had to tweak it just a bit:

The thing is, Skull's never been much of a drinker.

And, despite what Reborn and Colonnello like to say, it's not because he's a lightweight.

No, it's always been the opposite problem with Skull.

It takes a staggering amount of dangerously high-proof alcohol to get him actually drunk.

So much so that Skull had only ever been actually and fully drunk once in his life. He'd never bothered again because, well, most bars wouldn't serve that amount of alcohol to a single person and, most importantly of all, it was an outrageously expensive ordeal.

He'd always had better things to spend whatever money he might have on than trying to get wasted.

Skull's long suspected some kind of Flame fuckery at work but hasn't bothered to really look into it.

Still, whenever drinking had come up with the Arcobaleno before the curse Skull either hadn't bothered to drink at all or had gone for the kind of fruit-filled or extravagant cocktail that always got him a lot of ribbing.

Because if he wasn't going to be able to get drunk but they weren't going to let him leave, then he should at least be able to drink something interesting that doesn't taste like actual paint thinner.

But now? After a handful of decades in the Mafia and with all of the money he's actually managed to accumulate plus an entire case of the specially formulated liquor Verde had cooked up?

Now Skull is well and truly on his way to being wasted.

Which is the perfect time for Skull to remember that, unlike what most would probably think, he's not the loud and overly obnoxious or casually violent type of drunk.

No, that's Colonnello and Fon in order.

Instead, Drunk Skull tends to be way more honest and mouthy than Sober Skull.

"Boo," Colonnello tosses a handful of pretzels in Skull's direction even as he folds yet another hand of cards to Reborn. "You suck Skull, thought you'd be more interesting than this when we finally got you wasted. Come on, be entertaining."

Skull's not sure why anyone's willing to play poker, even Mafia Poker, with Reborn when the fucker so obviously counts cards no matter how many decks are used.

"Save the pigtail pulling for Lal, okay Nello?" Skull finds himself saying, eyes on his own game of Mafia Solitaire and one hand playing with his glittery purple crazy straw. His tall glass of violently green alcohol is a little less than half full and Skull is feeling more than a bit loose. "I'm not gonna fuck you no matter how drunk I get, you're not really my type."

"Hey!" Colonnello squawks, the beer bottle in his hand suddenly hurtling in Skull's direction. "My heart and body belong to Lal alone, asshole."

Skull catches the bottle and then casually tosses it toward the recycling bin that's just visible in the kitchen from where he's sitting. It goes in of course, Skull hadn't filled in for the knife-throwing act as a teenager more than once without learning how to aim his projectiles.

"I've seen your dick, Nello," Skull can't help but tease as he lays down an Ace Of Knives, "that's not as much of a flex as you think it is. Be happy to give you some tips though if you're ready to stop disappointing Lal."

Colonnello looks appropriately scandalized, Reborn's sporting that little smirk of his that's basically a laugh, and beside Colonnello Lal Mirch just snorts into her whiskey tumbler, obviously amused.

Which is both true and false. Skull's absolutely seen Colonnello's dick enough to last him a lifetime but he's not actually as tragic as Skull's making him out to be. Not that Skull will ever admit that.

If there's one thing he's good at after all it's committing to The Bit.

"Brave talk from the group baby," Colonnello cuts back. "Bet you've never even touched a woman, and no your mom doesn't count."

There's a round of immature snickers around the table that Skull honestly can't find fault in since even Verde, Viper, and Fon had joined in.

But, for once, Skull is nowhere near ready to back down.

"Well if my mom doesn't count, then your mom probably doesn't either huh?" Skull bats his lashes at Colonello. "If so then you should probably tell her to stop calling me."

He gets a fist full of peanuts thrown at him this time.

"You know, Skull," Reborn practically slinks his way into the conversation, voice sly, "if you're interested in getting some actual experience I'm sure I know a few ways to help you out."

And as is so often the case with Reborn, Skull's not sure if that's an offer or a threat.

Probably both if he's being honest.

Either way it's also a taunt Skull just can't let stand like he normally would.

"Yelena and Drago Marckovich," Skull lets his tongue wrap around the names.

"Oh?" Reborn's attention is, as always, like being put underneath a combination spotlight/microscope. "And who, pray tell, are they?"

Skull leans back in his chair, aware of how he's somehow gathered everyone in the room's attention.

Which, to be fair, is what he does best.

"They were fraternal twins whose parents ran our high wire act," Skull tells them all. "Drago was one of the group's apprentice mechanics and Yelena was a contortionist."

Skull takes a sip of his drink.

"They were eighteen, gorgeous, and never did anything apart. They're the ones who helped me put my first bike together from the ground up too." Skull can't help the happy little sigh he huffs out. Those really had been an excellent six months. "Couldn't have picked a better pair to lose my virginity to. Taught me how to do all kinds of tricks, both on and off the bike."

There's a moment's silence.

"Bullshit," Colonnello barks out, one hand slapping down onto the tabletop. "No way in hell you bagged twins."

"Absolutely not," Skull agrees readily only to cut Colonnello's smug look off at the knees. "I was sixteen and had no idea what I was doing. They bagged me. Wasn't like I was going to say no."

Across the table, Lal actually hoots with laughter.

"They taught me the foundation for everything I know," Skull keeps going. "Yelena? Now she was all about taking those curves and corners you know? Girl could get in and out of the tightest spaces, taught me how to do the same."

Lal is outright giggling now and Colonnello's all flush faced with his mouth hanging open.

"And Drago?" Skull pauses, flicks his tongue out to play with his lip ring. Cuts his eyes just a bit in Reborn's direction. "Well let's just say he really lived up to his name. He helped me with my stamina. Helped me learn how to really ride."

The twins had been kind and fun and when their arrangement had run its course they'd parted as friends which is something Skull will always be thankful for.

"Of course," Skull waves his straw carelessly through the air around him, "when I left to strike out on my own I had to refine my technique on my own, develop my own skills and tricks, that kind of thing. Luckily there was never a shortage of eager and willing volunteers to work with. I learn better by doing and I've always been good with my hands anyways so it was fun, finding new bodies to work with and figuring out all the ways to lay each one of them out and make them purr."

Skull tosses back the rest of his drink and pushes himself up onto his feet.

"I grew up in the circus and had my own traveling stunt show by 19," Skull tells them all, more than a bit amused by the turn the evening had taken. "I've fucked my way across six continents, various oceans, and a wide variety of islands."

Skull shoves his hands into the pockets of his low-hanging sweatpants and ambles towards the veranda door.

The cool grass, wide open sky, and quiet of the garden out back are practically calling his name by this point.

There's a moment's silence and then he hears a chair scrape across the floor loudly behind him.

Skull keeps walking, doesn't bother to look back.

The fedora that drops down on top of his head isn't as much of a surprise to Skull as it might have been five or so bottles ago.

"I could stand to hear a bit more about your ,,, unexpected expertise," Reborn practically purrs from Skull's side, one large, warm hand splaying itself possessively across the small of Skull's back.

"Jealous?" Skull can't help but snip back.

"Oh no," Reborn's grin is more than a bit dark and his eyes are a hawkish sort of golden. "Jealousy implies a lack of skill. And trust me, bellissimo, that's one thing you'll never have to worry about with me."

#RayRambles #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #KHR Skull #RebornSkull #KHR Drabble

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 2 (Dark Side)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, health issue mentions, weapon mentions, panic attack description? (Though honestly it’s more of an anxiety attack), death mentions, child abandonment mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Dark Side by R5. I thought the actual lyrics to the song gave off a solid vibe that I wanted to transfer to the start of this particular chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & ☁️

Lonely Together Master List

Chapter 2: Dark Side

When you woke up this morning, you had the sweet scent of Vanilla and honey hit your nose. It was warm and inviting and made you feel safe. You were glad, normally you’d never feel safe in the wild. The pack helped a lot with that issue. But when you woke up today, you noticed that you had woken up to a quiet house. Which was… strange to say the least. There was always some sort of ruckus going on downstairs in the early hours. So you figured you’d go investigate cautiously, in case something had happened. You grabbed your thigh garter belt with your knives attached before you quietly made your way down the stairs. You saw and heard no one. Nothing was wrong or out of place. Everyone was just… gone. But why?

“Boy, you come prepared don’t you?” A male voice said from the stairs, causing you to jolt back in surprise, automatically drawing your knife from its holster on sheer instinct, ready to release it at any given moment.

You relaxed and placed it back to your thigh as you realized it was just Jihoon, one of the less spoken wolves of the pack.

He was only a few inches taller than you, but you were still incredibly intimidated by him. You weren’t sure why all the others were terrified to piss him off, even the alphas, but you were never worried he’d get mad at you. Which was weird, you were always skeptical of everyone, it was just in your nature as a rogue wolf.

However, with him, it wasn’t horror that overtook your veins, it was nervousness. Like you had some sort of school girl crush on him and you were worried you’d mess something up in front of him and die from the embarrassment of it. But why? Why would you care what some rando wolf would think of you when you’d probably be leaving in a bit when your wounds were healed better?

“Jesus Jihoon! You know I could’ve killed you right? Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to fuck with a bitch with knives?” You huffed out in annoyance while slapping you hands over your face, praying that he hadn’t seen your cherry red cheeks yet.

Of course he had though. He never took his eyes off of you whenever you were in a room. You were just too zoned off to notice

“Uh no… Not really. Never had them so they didn’t teach me shit. Not that any of that matters. We both know you’d never hurt anyone if you could help it.” He shrugged, nudging past you to make his way to the fridge for a bite to eat with a small smile pasted on his glorious lips. God he annoyed you.

“You don’t know that. I always come prepared, I could be a serial killer for all any of you know” you cooly threw his way as you let your guard down slightly, for some reason trusting him enough to have a semi civilized conversation alone.

“Yeah yeah you’re a little vicious killer. Whatever you say kid” He laughed out, trying to keep his amusement in check at your quick replies.

You gritted your teeth, “Hey I am not a kid! I’m centuries old! MUCH older than you.” You smugly responded to his bitch ass nickname for you.

Jihoon looked you up and down for a second, making you a bit self conscious and spreading a heat down to your lower belly, “You don’t look older than me. Matter of fact, you look like the youngest one here. So I’m gonna keep calling you kid, kid.” He leaned in close to you and whispered seductively in your ear.

“Where- where is everyone?” You stuttered out, trying your best not to focus on the minimal contact Jihoon had made with your shoulder while brushing past you moments ago. Curse your dumb instincts. Why did you have to find him attractive? Couldn’t your wolf side ever just stay in check?

“The market? No, to Taeyong’s? Maybe it was to the river? I dont know by the time they left it didn’t seem like they even knew where they were going so I stopped listening.” He answered while taking a bit of an apple he had snagged from the fruit basket on the counter.

“W-why didn’t you go with them?” You questioned him as you tried your best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Didn’t feel like third wheeling a bunch of mated coupled wolves.” He shrugged once more while sitting himself on the kitchen table you were next to, “Plus, someone needed to stay here and keep an eye on the house.”

“I would’ve been here.” You chimed in, as if he would’ve ever seriously left you alone.

Whether you were a Werewolf or not, he was NOT gonna leave you without some sort of safety net if he could help it. If he had it his way, you wouldn’t even go down to the market with the other mates when supplies were needed. He knew you could handle yourself as a fellow wolf, and he knew you were the best to go because you weren’t marked yet, but he was worried for you.

You definitely had people looking at you because of your different appearance. You were drop dead gorgeous to anyone with eyes, and that greatly concerned him every-time you went out shopping. He may have been more of a lone wolf, but he wanted to protect you at all cost, even if you didn’t realize that’s what he was doing yet.

“Doesn’t count. You’re a FANCY werewolf, remember?” He emphasized the word fancy in a condescending way that irked your nerves all the way to your core.

“We don’t know what you can do yet. Besides, you act like I’d actually want to go watch them make goo goo eyes at each other all day long. Seeing them cuddle and dry hump the whole time we’re doing something isn’t my idea of fun. I’d rather be here and enjoy the peace and quiet while I can.” He said as he tossed the remains of his apple in the garbage can in one swift motion.

“I can do everything you guys can and more!” You defended yourself, getting a bit frustrated at the younger wolf for doubting your abilities.

“Then prove it. Do something… super wolfy” he chuckled out, half jokingly and half seriously in what a normal person would recognize as a flirty manner.

He hadn’t had too many girlfriends. His experience with girls was limited compared to his brothers. So sticking to his sarcastic edgy tone was the only way he knew how to engage with you.

He was curious as to what your powers entailed anyways. They all were, none of them had met a wolf like you before. All the wolves they knew were modern, and the only seriously powerful wolf they knew was from a Chinese pack that had fled to their area who could communicate with heaven, hell, and the nether realms. They had heard stories that had been passed down for some generations about what wolves were like long ago, but none of it was confirmed because nearly all had been killed or died off. So they wanted to see if you could actually do all the things from the legends they heard about your people. For all they knew, you could fly.

You hesitated for a moment, trying your best to think of something, anything that you could do that would shut him up and prove your point. But everything you thought of required you to be much stronger than you currently were. None of the visible powers you had were working right now due to the small amount of silver still running through your system. Even if you were working at full strength and weren’t hurt, you had never been able to use your powers to their full extent do to something having been wrong with you since birth.

“… I- I cant.” You sighed in defeat while bringing your head down to look at your hands.

“Why not?” He wondered aloud, not even really meaning to tease you, he just let the innocent question slip from his lips without thinking.

“Because I got hurt and I have no way to get better! My entire pack is dead! Everyone I love is dead! I don’t have a mate! I need some sort of connection to the people around me to heal faster and I don’t have one anymore! I need one or the other to have my powers come back this quickly after such a traumatic incident and I have neither! I’m fucked up and I’ve been fucked up for a long time okay!” You snapped, your eyes now bleeding and turning emerald green from anger as you yelled at him.

Once you saw his confused and remorseful expression, you quickly closed your eyes and turned around to try and calm down. You didn’t mean to go after him like that, but you were already very worried about your own health not coming back and the taunting tone in his voice just made you break. You could feel the hurt in his heart. It made you want to cry, you didn’t mean to yell at him. You were just a very touchy person who had been asked about a very touchy subject.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset. I just- I’m concerned for myself and this conversation… well it made the concerns I already had skyrocket. But that’s not your fault. You would’ve had no way of knowing that. I apologize for getting mad at you over something so childish.” You earnestly said, trying your best to look him in the eyes without blushing from embarrassment.

He quickly moved his head down to look at his lap. He understood your pain. He could feel it everyday. You were his mate, he already did have a connection to you. He knew when you were sad or hurt or worried. He knew that you weren’t just in physical pain, but emotional pain as well. He wished he could take it all away from you so you never felt a negative feeling again. But he just couldn’t. Though, he was upset at himself for making it worse for you. Why did he always have to try and stir the pot? Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Couldn’t he just be cool around you and know when to stop?

“It’s okay. I… I understand what it’s like. To not have anyone I mean. I didn’t realize that you actually had to have those things in order to heal better though. With wolves now, we don’t necessarily have to have those things. I mean having them helps, but we get better eventually anyways as long as we get the wound cleaned properly. I didn’t know it was different for you...” He bit his lip as he continued, “But you know, our pack can be your pack, if you want anyway. There’s an opening for another ticking time bomb now that Chan’s found a mate. You’d be perfect for the job” he joked, though you could tell he was serious at the offer for you to join the pack.

“Yeah… how much does it pay an hour?” You played along, trying to lighten the mood from the tension you had made appear due to your little anger outburst.

You hurriedly propped yourself up on the table next to Jihoon, who gave you a small smile in return. It gave you goosebumps all over your skin. So you were thankful you had grabbed a large sweater the pack had given you before you went downstairs this morning.

You were given a bunch of them. They made you feel safe, and you loved the way they smelt. So when the other mates apologized and said they didn’t have many ‘girly clothing items’ to give you as getting clothing was sparse at the moment, you didn’t complain. You were perfectly content with your bigger clothing.

When you sat up on the table, you smelt the same scent of vanilla and honeysuckle that you nostrils had been absorbing from the clothing given to you…

“Not a lot.” Jihoon confessed, “we only offer housing, protection, and being around people who would do anything for you. But honestly, you could do a lot worse in terms of a career.” He bit his lip once more, the action drawing a small pur from your chest, which you tried to cover with a small cough. Of course he still caught the sound though. You weren’t even sure why looking at him made you that happy. The sound made Jihoon swoon, he loved that he already had such an impact on you.

“Of course there’s also some downside like with all jobs… like having to constantly break up fights, having a complete jackass for a mate, and well… you know… sharing bathrooms…” he trailed on, rubbing his neck while he attempted to make it seem like the middle part was casual.

“Wait! A complete WHAT for a WHO and WHERE was I???” You all but yell out in shock, making Jihoon wince.

He couldn’t tell if you were upset that he’d just burst it out like that. He honestly couldn’t even tell if you knew you were his mate or not. He didn’t know if you WANTED a mate or not. From what he knew of you, you usually stayed away from people unless you had to be around them. You told the others that staying alone is how you’d survived all these centuries. But Would you make an exception to your rules for survival to stay with him?

“Uh… yeah. A mate. That would- that would be me. I’m your mate…” He whispered, attempting as best as he could to regain control of his heartbeat that was now almost pounding out of his chest.

That’s when it all clicked in your head. Why they let you eat first with the mates, with the OTHER mates. You were one of them. It’s why they found you when you needed help, he must’ve felt you were in danger. It’s why you didn’t die that day even though your wounds would’ve been normally fatal even to you, because he was near you and never left your side. It’s why you weren’t scared of him like everyone else, you knew he’d never hurt you because he loved you. It’s why the pack always giggled anytime you and Jihoon would get near each other. It’s why the smell on your sweaters and his smell were so familiar, he gave them to you because you were his. You two were mates. It all made sense.

“We’re- we’re mates?” You reaffirmed out loud, but you started to feel dizzy. You weren’t sure what was happening.

Everything was going too fast, it felt like you were moving in slow motion but the entire world was spinning as fast as it could around you. The edges of your vision started becoming fuzzy and dark. You started to feel like you were going to pass out, but before you could fall flat on your face to the floor, Jihoon caught your fragile body in his arms.

“Yes. We are. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I wanted to give you some time to adjust to being around normal people before I told you.” He assured you as he started moving towards the stairs, bringing you to his room and setting you down on his bed. He was incredibly worried for you, he could hear your heart rate slowing by the second.

“You might need to lay down. You don’t look well” he spoke softly as he held the back of one of his larger hands to your clammy forehead.

“Yeah… okay… rest… that makes sense… I’m sorry I- I just wasn’t expecting-” You tried to say as you start to give into the panicking darkness, not wanting to fight the urge to black out anymore.

“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in. Just try and sleep okay?” He shushed you as he moved his blankets over your petite form, hesitant to touch you as he didn’t want to make matters worse. But his inner wolf was screaming at him to hold you and rock you to help you.

Everything you had heard about Jihoon told you he wasn’t someone who could have a relationship. All the others always talked about him wanting no one around him ever. They called him a grumpy old rogue wolf who miraculously got stuck in their pack. They said that He did things his own way. He did things alone. So did you.

“Jihoon, how the hell are we supposed to be together when we’re both lone wolves?” You whimpered out to him before everything went dark.

Another Author’s Note: alright so you guys know the drill. I wrote this close to midnight and I’m too tired to care about revising rn. So i shall look at it and fix any mistakes tomorrow when I get the time. Tomorrow I don’t think I’ll be praying more than once. Sorry, I’m working a doubt shift. But Wednesday I’m hoping to post three times! Here’s to hoping!

(Updated 9/6)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fluff #svt woozi #woozi drabble #woozi angst #woozi x reader

[anothersadsimp]

Mechanics

Din Djarin x Mechanics! reader

Words: 28-something I forgot

Din was not a people person, and it showed. No it wasn’t the fact that he was covered in beskar and that intimidated everyone from ever approaching him. It was the silence that came with him, and how he was always a man of few words. 

You remember when you first met the Manalorian, his ship had touched down where you were working as a mechanic at the time. His ship looked like shit to put it lightly. There were blaster holes and burns, wires that could be seen, and the transparisteel had some cracks breaking out. You weren't quite expecting a man covered in pure, pristine looking beskar to walk down the ramp of the ship. Immediately your interest was piqued by the traveler.

You crossed your arms over your chest with a stern look upon your face. He was a bit taken back at how you stood there unphased by his presence. If anything you looked a little pissed with your furrowed brows and small pout.

“Your ship looks like a piece of shit.” You blatantly state nodding towards it.

He stood there looking at you through the visor, you don’t know if he was trying to intimidate you or what, but you refused to break in your own shop. Little did you know under the helmet his brows were furrowed in confusion, mouth just slightly open. It takes a moment for him to compose himself.

“I have credits.” He responds.

Your brows unfurrow and raise in amusement. “There's not enough credits in the galaxy to get this thing to work like it needs to.” 

“Just the necessities.” He says as he walks up to place some credits in your hand. 

You look down and sigh, “Ok then.” 

After that he walked off to the exit to wherever he wanted on the dustball of a planet you live on. You shout out for your clumsy R5 unit to start your music so you could get to work on the Mandalorians ship.

After a few days of TLC the ship looked decent. Not to where you wanted it but it worked. The Mandalorian walked in with an unconscious Trandoshan being dragged behind him. You were off to the side as he dragged him up into his ship, when a blaster bolt shot passed him. When you turn to see where it came from there’s another Trandoshan standing there snarling. 

You whip out a small blaster you had in the back of the waistband of your pants and start firing towards him. The Mandalorian had also started blasting, taking cover behind one of his crates. As the Trandoshan was focused on him you were able to sneak out a side door of your shop. From there you flanked him, and kicked the back of his knee before hitting him over the head with your blaster. You shove his unconscious form to the dirty ground before holstering your blaster once again. 

The Mandalorian slowly stood up from behind his cover to see you standing over him. He had barely caught you twirling your blaster in your hand before you put it back into your waistband. He was shocked as he started walking down the ramp to bind him. 

He lugged him up to his ship to freeze him into carbonite as well. He walked back down, his cape trailing behind him and he stopped in front of you.

“Thank you.” He said. 

“For what saving your ass, or saving your ship's ass?” You quip.

“Both.” He states.

You were about to say something when a small spark coming from his ship caught your attention. You walk over to see it’s a panel just inside of the cargo hold, a panel you had just worked on. 

“I just fixed this mother-” You grumbled the last bit of it and kicked the brick of carbonite that held the shooter. 

Din doesn’t remember the last time he has been intrigued by someone. You showed no signs of being intimidated by him, to the point where you're a smartass to him. You had managed to flank and knock out the brother of the bounty that he just caught, that also happened to be a Trandoshan. Then you walked up and into his ship as if you owned it, kicking a thing of his carbonite. You were tough, skilled, and someone that clearly knows how to handle things.

“I could use another pair of hands.” He offers. 

You turn your head up, looking at where he stands a little further down the ramp, “Are you offering me a job?”

He nods, “I can pay handsomely.” 

Your arms are crossed and you shift your weight onto your other foot. You debate a little bit in your head before you look over to see R5 running into things as they put some tools away.

“What would I do?” You ask, taking another moment before you turn back to him.

“Keep the Razor Crest in working condition.” 

You chuckle, “That’s gonna be hard considering the state it came in isn't it?”

He says nothing as you look back at R5 and sigh. You agree to go with him, saying you have some things to take care of before you take off. You sent your R5 unit over to a friend and grabbed a few of your belongings before following the Mandalorian onto his ship.

Your assumption of it being hard to keep the Razor Crest in tip top shape was correct. You’ve never been shot at or chased so many times before, especially now in deep space. 

You were currently under the control panel trying to reroute power from one part of the ship to power up the hyperdrive enough to get you to a nearby planet. Above you Din, as you have come to learn, was trying his best to lose the people who were currently shooting at you. 

“Anytime soon would be nice.” He rasps out.

“Well maybe if you flew better I’d be done already!” You shout.

You mess around with a few more wires before shouting “done”. At that Din hits the hyperdrive and yall begin the jump to hyperspace. You move to start getting yourself up when the actual jump happened. Din reaches out and steadys you with his hand on your waist so you don’t fall. You move away from him to plop down in the co-pilot's seat taking in a deep breath. 

“You need to land somewhere. It’s not gonna last very long.” You warn.

He nods as he messes with some buttons setting a course for the nearest habitable planet. 

“You should get some rest while you can.” He says.

You nod your head, agreeing with him for once before leaning back onto the seat. Your head lulls to the side, and you cross your arms over your chest. It takes a minute before you're able to fall into any sort of slumber. 

You wake up to the Razor Crest jolting, and through the trasparasteel you can see that it's light outside. You looked out to see that Din hand landed you both near a cliff, and below into the valley was a town. You hoped that they had something that would help you fix the ship whether it was a whole part, or just some extra tools. 

“Come on, let's see if they have anything helpful.” His voice monotone as ever has he stands up.

You stretch in your seat before getting up yourself. You both make your way down to the cargo area, gabbing your small blaster and some knives that you hide on yourself. You squint at the bright light that floods in from the ramp being lowered. 

It took awhile for the two of you to reach the town, bustling with kids running through the pathways. You can feel the stares of the adults as the both of you make your way down the main path. You find what seems to be a scrap shop and nod in the direction. He silently follows you inside the disorganized shop where a grime-covered Twi’lek was muttering at a broken motor. 

“Can I help you?” He grumbles.

“We need some things to repair our ship.” You explain.

“What do you need?” He looks up at you expectantly.

You start rambling some parts and tools you’ll need to fix up the Razer Crest. Meanwhile the Mandalorian is standing behind you not saying a word. He was entranced by the way you were listing off everything you needed. Even he didn’t know everything you were saying; he found that attractive. The way you held yourself in confidence in front of this rather large Twi’lek man, stone cold face and tone had sent him reeling. 

You turned back towards Mando, “Ok he has some of the things I need. We should be good.”

“Some?” He questions as he tilts his head at you.

“No one in this little town is gonna have everything we need. I’ll just have to improvise.” You say the last part with a sly smile on your lips.

Din suppresses a groan at your cheeky, but optimistic attitude about the situation. You turn back around when you hear the Twi’lek man come back with a large container full of things. You say a quick ‘thank you’ with your dazzling smile and put a generous amount of credits in his hand.

You lift up the large crate with a small grunt and start heading your way towards the exit. Din watches you leave and starts to follow you when you nod your head for him to follow you. 

“We should get some food while we’re here. It’d be a nice change from what we usually have.” You chirp. 

He stays silent as you walk up to a small little stall with fresh produce from the local farms on the planet. You pick out a few of the fruits they have and hand them to Din to put in the little rucksack he has. After you picked out what you wanted he handed the owner some credits and you both started making your way back to the Razor Crest. 

When you arrive you set the crate full of equipment down in the cargo bay and make your way to grab one of the fruits you had bought and sit down. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow to the surrounding area. 

“I’ll fix her up in the morning. Can’t work in the dark.” You say while leaning back, taking a bite out of the fruit you grabbed. The Mandalorian gives a brief nod before walking past you to another part of his ship.

The next morning you had woken up before just before the sun rose and decided to get ready for a full day of work. You stripped down to your tank, knowing you’d get all hot and sweaty from working. You quickly grabbed a small bite to eat, and set out to get all of your equipment out so you can start working as soon as the sun was up.

When Din had woken up and couldn’t find you in your little sleeping spot he began to worry. He knows you can take care of yourself of course, but he has grown to like you. Liked you more than he’d like to admit to himself. That small part of him was worried you left him for something better. Then he heard it. Your voice muttering out curses along with hisses and bangs from outside the ship. 

He walked out down the ramp and rounded the corner to see you working under one of the engines. You had goggles on as you messed with some of the wiring, big bulky gloves protecting your hands as some sparks shot up from them. You were covered in sweat and grime already which made him question, how long have you been awake? 

He couldn’t help but fall into a trance as you worked on the Razor Crest, seemingly in your own little world. He watched your hands work, and watched how the movements correlated with your arms and shoulders. Call him old fashioned but he still isn’t used to seeing so much of your skin. He often thinks about how soft your skin really is, and how you’d react to his touch. What would your hands feel like? He knows they’re rough from years of work and the occasional fight, but he still would kill to feel your hand run over him just once. If it weren't for the helmet anybody would be able to see how he yearned for you. 

He was pulled out of his trance from an eruption and you jerked back from the area you were working on. “Karabast!” 

His mouth twitched up as you began to insult the part you were working on. He began to take a few steps closer to you, the sound gaining your attention. Your head turns towards him, and you quickly push your goggles up to the top of your head. 

“I-I’ll fix that.” You motion awkwardly towards the panel. 

He gives a little chuckle, “How’s it looking?” 

“Well, could be worse.” 

“What can I do?” He asks, tone just monotone as ever. 

“Well you can finnish this part up, it’s pretty simple. I’ll start working at the top of the ship.” You motion to the part you were just working on.

Din starts walking towards you to take over while you explain what he needed to do. Once you were done you walked towards the back of the ship to climb up top. Din couldn’t help but watch your arms work to pull yourself up. His gaze lingered on your body, eventually seeing how the fabric shapes your ass. Once you were up he turned his attention towards the panel in front of him, willing himself to focus on something that's not you. 

After a few hours you hoped on down from the top of the ship, needing a break from the harsh sunlight. When you reach the cargo hold of the ship you grab something to munch on before making your way to the cockpit. You see Din in the pilot's seat messing with some of the controls as you make your way to the co-pilot's seat. 

“Everything looks good. Should be ready to leave.” 

You stand up to look over his shoulder to make sure things were in a good enough condition. Sure this may be Din’s ship but you won’t leave until you think it's ready. As you look you see that there’s a light indicating some damage to one of the engines. No doubt it was that nasty blaster shot you had spotted while up on top.

“Not yet. Gotta fix the right engine.” You point towards the indicator.

“It’s fine, at least until we're somewhere safer.” He doesn’t turn towards you as he speaks, as if he thinks you’re just gonna go with whatever he says.

“We are not going anywhere until I get that engine fixed. Not unless you wanna get captured or stranded?” You ask rhetorically. 

You can’t see it but Din raises his eyebrows at your authoritative tone, finally turning to face you. He’s stunned for a second. You had somehow gotten covered in more grime, and what may be soot from the blaster shots to his ship. There were dark streaks covering your arms and parts of your face. He noticed how your skin glistened with sweat from your neck down to your chest. He was reeling in the way you looked, how you someone who usually looked so soft next to him looked so rugged. 

This wasn’t the first time Din has had some not so professional thoughts of you. He couldn’t help it with the way you carried yourself, or how cute you always seemed around him. He wanted to see how beautiful you would be falling apart for him, and how your usually confident tone of voice would sound crying out for him.

He didn’t realize he zoned out until your voice came out stern and demanding once again. He looks up to see you had come around in front of him, face just inches away from his helmet. Your arms rested on either side of him as you leaned towards him. 

“Hey, you listening?” You ask. 

That was when he had enough of your attitude. He abruptly stood up and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped before your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling his body that hides under the beskar. He walks to where his little cot is and puts you down before grabbing a small piece of fabric. 

“If you don’t want this just say so.” He says as if he is out of breath. 

You grab the small piece of fabric from his hands before moving to tie it around your eyes, a sly smile coming to rest upon your lips, “Bout time you made a move Mando.”

#the mandalorian x reader #din x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal character imagine #pedro character fic #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic

[akampana]

Oh, oh, how about a Gil vampire lord and arty famous vampire hunter in a eternal rivalry for no.1, kinda Hellsing and dracula rivalry but with a twist

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t tell you.” Gilgamesh x Arturia Vampire x Hunter. Enjoy!

_______

Three bullets.

Two knives.

One vampire.

Arturia Pendragon clicked the cylinders back into place and brought her weapons up to her chin, the warmth of her breath misting the polished barrel. She was the only thing in this accursed mansion that had any sense of heat, as everything inside was either unlit, inanimate, or dead.

The small hunter cursed the winter. There wasn’t a poorer season for killing vampires than one that was as dark and cold as the night creatures’ hearts. However, she could wait no longer. For generations, her family had pursued the blood-sucking fiends, hoping to one day cease the plague that had haunted their lands. At last, it could come to an end. There would be no need for her little brother to learn to handle a gun as well.

All she had to do was put Gilgamesh to rest.

A sudden movement from the right had her fingers on the triggers, but it was an effort wasted. There was nothing but the creak of wood and a curtain dancing in the cold breeze. However, she was not too quick to drop her guard. The vampire she hunted tonight was older than time and just as wise. Tricks like this were not beyond him. It made his hunts more interesting, she bet.

"There you are, my love."

...

Too slow!

The Pendragon ducked to the floor just in time to hear his palm smash through the stone brick behind her. Aiming her revolvers, she sprang up like a gymnast, twisting midair to face the hellspawn.

Silver shot out of her gun, but she already knew it would miss. Vampires were quite the agile creatures, having shed their human limits in exchange for their souls. Even if Gilgamesh looked mortal like herself, the way he sidestepped fire at such a short distance clearly suggested otherwise.

The soles of her boots screeched against the floor as she secured her landing by chucking the revolver at her opponent. Empty guns were useless in fights that required all her attention, but thankfully, this one had extra utility against creatures of the night.

When a high pitched squeak more suited to a frightened pig passed her old rival's lips, she knew she'd made a successful play.

"A silver-barrelled gun? Ha! And here I believed you had exhausted all your options," the older one smirked, the skin of his hands hissing from the contact. "That must have cost your family the entire treasury, my dearest Arturia. Who did this once belong to, hm? Was it your father's? Grandfather's? Great-grandfather's?"

Arturia grimaced as she snatched one of her knives from her heel.

"Killing your kind brings quite the fortune,” she answered, as per their usual simultaneous verbal bouts. “I can buy a hundred more with the price on your head, Gilgamesh."

She spun the blade round her fingers to provoke him, stopping in a backhand grip.

"More of your distractions, girl?" he sneered, just a hint of irritation breaking through his haughty mask. "It will take more than parlor tricks to fell the likes of me!"

Arturia lunged like a fencer, weaving through his usual jabs till she nicked his skin, lamenting how terribly shallow the cut was. As her breaths began to labor, her eyes flickered to the hallway, debating whether or not she could make a break for it. There was no outmatching a vampire in a direct dance to death, but she’d already made that play. Gilgamesh was not going to let her go a second time-

A sharp hiss was the woman’s only warning before his hands seized her throat.

No!

Desperately, she fired the gun at his knee, but all it did was have him bruise her skull on the floor instead of the wall, flinging her around like she weighed nothing.

The woman kicked and thrashed, but for all her effort, all she managed was a slash to his face before he rid her of her knife. Black spots began to cloud her vision, but Arturia took aim even as her lungs began to burn.

She had one bullet. One final attempt to make sure no Pendragon would ever have to take up the craft again. She had to spare poor Arthur. Only six and already being taught how to wield a knife. Igraine was already planning to take him out to hunt foxes. Arthur loved foxes. God. She had to make this one shot. Just this last one. For his sake. Please.

It didn’t take Gilgamesh any effort to bat her gun away.

Arturia’s emerald eyes locked with those of her assailant’s. Her whole life, she’d trained for this day, only to still come up short. It didn’t matter, the thousands that had fallen to her technique. She was still no match for him, not even after all this time.

Her nails clawed into the skin of his knuckles as Gilgamesh dipped down toward her shoulder, no doubt preparing to sink his teeth into her jugular.

Was this how she was going to meet her end? So close to finally ridding the continent of every vampire there was? So close to liberating her brother, her entire clan, from cruel deaths at the hands of the immortals? Why, after all she’d sacrificed, after giving up her life to become a hunter, did she have to fail at her mission’s most crucial moment?

Tears fell from her eyes as she shut them tight, refusing her last glimpse of life to be the eerily perfect face of the undead.

His teeth scraped against her skin. A final torture before he drained the life out of her.

Arturia braced herself for the bite, her head screaming apologies to every person she was letting down. Igraine, her late father, her cousins, Arthur.

But it never came.

“You have done well, my queen,” whispered the old creature, his cold lips brushing against her neck. Arturia gasped for air, hacking and coughing beneath him, a million questions running through her mind. He quieted them all with his thumb on her bottom lip, freezing Arturia where she lay.

“I have endured several of your lifetimes. Each, more passionless than the last. I thought myself fortunate at first, able to experience every pleasure the world had to offer, but a thousand years can make even the sweetest fruit seem vile.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his sharp, eternal features, but it was quickly replaced by something Arturia had never seen before. The emotion swelled within his vibrant ruby irises, which glowed even through a night as dark as this one.

“Eventually, I saw this ‘gift’ for what it truly was: a curse, bestowed upon me by that loathsome snake an eternity ago,” he voiced cryptically, knowing this beautiful little girl would likely never grasp just how long he’d walked this earth.

The Pendragon stared up at him with those fiery irises he’d been fond of since the first time he beheld them.

It was exactly twenty years since the day she first came here. Fifteen years old, a mere child, yet one that possessed the gall to challenge him to a duel. He spared her that day, and she went on to challenge every single creature in the continent that had been turned, coming back every now and then for another shot at his head.

Arturia wasn’t anything like those that shared her last name. Her clan was stiff. Traditional. She took their knowledge, but did not stop there, taking various forms of study to hone her craft. She'd been to Ireland to study their methods. To France to understand alchemy. Three years ago, she nearly killed him with near-invisible wire she acquired from the east. Before that, it was a sword of fire. Today, apparently, she’d gotten dexterous enough dual wielding either guns or knives, when she hadn’t that skill prior.

Ever since they met, his days were full of excitement, anticipation for the day she’d return. Suddenly, he was always on his toes, rising at the first sign of night to prepare for her next arrival. His hunts were no longer mechanical, for he knew now that he and she were bound to cross paths. Where would she see him next? On a hike into the mountains? In summer, when the days were long? Maybe even at the local ball? There were so many possibilities!

About a decade into their arrangement, Gilgamesh realized he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in eons.

He felt alive.

But like most living things, he knew Arturia had a limit. And before she reached it, before his fun could be taken away once more, he knew he had to do this. What better time than now, when he had the opportunity to caress her cheek for the first time?

“However, despite how I’ve loathed my own longevity, I never want our duels to end,” he admitted, memorizing her face, counting her freckles, brushing his thumb against lips he didn’t dare kiss for fear of imparting his curse.

“You, wicked woman, have made this soulless being crave a soul, if only to meet you once more beyond the grave.”

Minutes passed in silence as Arturia registered his confession. The night did not conceal her expressions from him. Not the fear, the anger, the confusion. He witnessed the exact moment of her realization, felt her heartbeat quicken, saw the heat rise to her cheeks. At last, she understood why she lay under him and had not yet fallen victim to his fangs.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked calmly, her voice strained, but clear. “Why now?”

“I have desired to do so for half a decade, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you...and I cannot die without you knowing that you are treasured beyond belief.”

Slowly, he reached for her ankle, where he knew she’d hidden her last knife. It burned his flesh as he grasped the hilt, rejecting the impurity of his being, but he persisted anyway, rejoicing in the sensation. This would be one of the final times he’d experience it.

“Wh...what are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her up to face him, placing the dagger in her grip and clasping his hands around hers. Even presented with the opportunity, it was no longer killing intent that resided within her eyes, only conflict.

“Without an end to one’s existence, love, the delights of what you call ‘life’ have no meaning,” he explained, moving her arms so that the blade’s tip rested just above his heart. “Therefore, Arturia Pendragon, I ask that your worthy hands grant me mine.”

He’d expected his death to be immediate, to happen as soon as he loosened his hold. Gilgamesh knew better than anybody what Arturia had at stake and who she was protecting. Hell, he was excited just contemplating what kind of life she’d lead, now that she’d been liberated of her family’s burden.

But now, when her goal was right in front of her, she hesitated.

For what seemed like a better eternity, Gilgamesh watched her stare into his exhausted red eyes, like she was engraving their intimidating splendor into her memory.

“Thank you.”

His death couldn’t have been sweeter.

#thank you for the ask #i hope you liked it! #gilart #gilturia #gilgamesh #archer #caster #arturia #arturia pendragon #artoria pendragon #artoria #saber #fate fanfiction

[msotherworldly]

Blame for Bethany

Title: Blame for Bethany

Fiction Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Warnings: Minor swearing, mention of death

Prompt: “I’m not saying I told you so...”

“I’m not saying I told you so...”

“That’s funny, because it sounds like you are.” I smirked. The clink of tankards surrounded us. There was a low hum of voices, and the smell of nug shit. It was home sweet home—at least for him. Face turned only half to the fireplace, he looked older.

I frowned. How old was Varric? Admittedly, I didn’t know much about dwarf aging. I’d always assumed they aged as quickly as humans or elves, but...

“Get it off your chest.” He sipped his drink, eyes sparkling.

“Another day.” I sank into a chair.

He shook his head. “It’s bad to pent shit up, Hawke. I knew a fella in the carta who got by weeping into his pillow every night. It had a nickname and everything. Of course, when the other carta men in his squad found out, they filled his back with knives.”

“Thanks, Varric.” I waved the waitress for a drink. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

“That’s my specialty. But seriously, what’s eating you?”

“It’s just a conclusion I’ve had. We’ve survived the Deep Roads. I’ve made enough money that I barely have to work. And Mother seems happy. I thought it would go away, but it hasn’t.”

The dwarf raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“I think...I have to talk to her about this.”

“I’m going to say it again. If it’s bad, dump it on me. Your mother’s been through enough crap.”

“And deprive you of the chance of another ‘I told you so’ speech?”

Varric sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back. “We’re not talking about an ogre this time, Hawke. We’re talking about your mother. Maybe give her some time before you hit her with something heavy.”

“I’ve given her time!” I laughed. “Varric, I’ve had this thought since I started work with Athenril. I’ve been carrying it around for two years now.”

“Do you need a shrink? I can recommend a good one I know. He works in Darktown.”

“He’s not a healer, is he?”

Varric grinned. “No, but I know a healer there who I’ve also recommended to see the guy. To be fair, he did attend one session.”

“But?”

“But it’s probably better if you don’t mention you’re a mage.” Varric’s face darkened. “Since that lovely therapy session, Briggs has a paranoia of being lit on fire. That tends to happen when you try to do therapy on a Fade spirit.”

“Maker.” I shook my head. “I think I’ll pass, Varric, but...thanks for the tip. Why Darktown?”

“If you talk to a therapist in Hightown, they might gossip. Any therapist there will likely be a noble looking for extra cash or a fun time, and well, you know your neighbours better than anyone. All they care about are scandals and social clout. If it got out that Marion Hawke was having mommy issues, it would be the talk of Hightown for at least a month.”

“I don’t have mommy issues.” I rolled my eyes. “But I see your point.”

“I’m not saying you do. It’s what they would say.” He winked. “Trust me, Hawke. I have a good read on people.”

“And a vivid imagination.”

“Exactly! If I say something is going to go wrong, it will likely go even worse!”

“And here I am, taking advice from the guy who loosed Anders on a therapist. Do wonders never cease?”

Varric chuckled. “I know you don’t listen. Hell, do any of you? But be gentle with her, Hawke. She’s had a hard time.”

I was halfway to Lowtown before I remembered my new home. I kicked a stone, and turned around. Would I ever get used to this? Even after three weeks, it felt strange to walk into Hightown and think I belonged there. In my rough leather jacket and scuffed boots, I felt as much like a ruffian as I’d always been. When I drew the key from my pocket, I had the unnerving feeling I’d stolen it from someone—or, as was more often the case, killed someone for it.

Smells of flowers and greenery washed over me. Mom had filled the manor with potted plants. Three shattered pots in the corner gave evidence that Sandal had managed to destroy half of them just as fast. The dreamy eyed dwarf looked out over the balcony; was he planning to swing from the chandelier again?

I dropped my satchel at the foot of my bed. When I emerged from my room, I was clean and dressed in finery. I drifted down the stairs, frowning.

“Is there anything I can get for you, my lady?” Bodahn bowed. “Name it, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Just a bottle of wine, Bodahn, and a glass.”

“Right away, my lady.”

“It’s Marion.” I sighed as he ambled off. “There’s no need to be so formal.”

Mother sat by the fire, embroidery in her lap. Her wrists flashed with silver, and her hair was pulled into an intricate braid. To look at her, one wouldn’t have known at first glance that she had spent twenty years tilling earth or bathing a Mabari coated daily in mud. Still, I could see it—in the wrinkles around her eyes, and the whitening of her hair, I saw a harder life. Most of the nobles who were Mother’s age looked ten years younger.

“Mother.”

“Hello, dear.” She gazed into the flames. “Have you heard from your brother?”

“Mages and templars aren’t friends as a general rule.”

“He’s your brother.” She grimaced. “It’s just as well. He needed space. It could be a lucrative career for him.”

“Hunting people like me? That’s a ‘lucrative career’?”

“I’m sorry, Marion.” She glanced up, and smiled. “I’m just trying to make the best of things. He’s been discontent for a long time. If this brings him happiness, I’ll be grateful to the Order for that much.”

I pulled up a second chair. Bodahn left the wine on a small round table of polished wood. I filled my glass. The liquid was a deep red.

I studied the flames, seeing shapes, seeing houses, blackening ruins crumpling as darkspawn swarmed over them. Did Mother see the same thing, or was the fire a mere comfort?

“He might have joined the Order in Fereldan too.” I picked up a poker, and jabbed the logs. “After being kicked out of the army, that is.”

Mother chuckled. “I suppose it would have been a matter of time. Carver always did find trouble. I hope he’s settled down now.”

I frowned. “It would have been natural if...”

Mother glanced at me. “If what?”

If you had been strong enough to do what you should have.

I stood up, setting my glass down. My heart thrummed. I bit my lip.

Be gentle, Hawke. Varric’s voice was low and smooth in my head.

I wheeled to face her. “It wasn’t my fault that Bethany died.”

“I’m sorry I said that, darling. I never meant it. Not really.”

“Even after you apologized the first time, I still believed it was. I played it over in my head. If I had gotten to the ogre sooner, I could have knocked it down. If I’d thought to throw fire, I could have distracted it. But I wasn’t the only one there. If it was my fault, it was Carver’s fault, Aveline’s. We were surrounded. Everyone was just trying to survive.” I shuddered. “It wasn’t my fault that Bethany died.”

Mother reached for me.

“It was yours.”

Mother flinched as if I’d electrocuted her. Then she bowed her head. “You wish it had been me instead of her. If the ogre had grabbed me instead...”

“I don’t wish that.” I sat down. “But I was angry at you. When we were at Gamlen’s, what did you do? You stared into the fire and you didn’t move. You didn’t even take in washing to help us pay the rent. You didn’t try to sell fruit. You didn’t offer to stitch up clothes for a couple of coppers. You didn’t do anything! You left it to Carver and I. You’ve left it to us since Dad died.”

Mother’s eyes watered. She closed them. “After she died...after your father...each time, it was like another part of me, somewhere in my chest, had just been ripped away. I couldn’t even think. I was sad and angry, and I couldn’t see anything else. Then, when Carver left, I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“But he didn’t leave, not truly.”

“I realized that.” She took a breath. “When I realized he was just going to be on his own, with a job he might enjoy, I even felt a little better. I know you tried with him...but he needed to find his own way.”

“I didn’t want you to take Bethany’s place, Mother.” I took her hand. “I was angry because you could have prevented it.”

She met my gaze.

“I never wanted to go to the Circle. I liked the feel of grass under my feet. I savoured looking up, and seeing the sky. I even enjoyed the constant reek of filthy Mabari.”

She chuckled.

“But sometimes I wondered about the Circle. I thought of all the books there I could be reading. And I thought of Bethany, on those winter days when we had less to eat, being able to have her fill. They get three meals a day at the Circle. There was one winter where I even considered sending her off myself. It was a chance at a richer life for her.”

“But not you?”

“Not as long as you needed looking after.” I shook my head. “It’s just...if you had sent us, she would still be alive right now. She was capable. She would have survived the Harrowing. She might have even attained a position, become a senior enchanter. She might have written books, had friends...been safe.”

Mom slumped over. “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“We could have stayed together. If you had been well, if Carver was there, I might have gone with her. And if Carver had joined the Order, he would have been able to send decent money your way. He would have kept us together with letters and stories. When he wasn’t watching over his sisters, he could have visited you, seen you were alright.”

“And all three of you could have been safe.”

“I shouldn’t have said this to you. Keeping us free wasn’t the wrong decision. Not really. You couldn’t have known the Blight was coming. If it hadn’t, all of us would still be in Lothering now. Poorer, but alive.”

“I’ve thought too much of myself.”

“Mother.”

“No, I have. You’ve played it through your head, too. You’ve watched Bethany die over and over. When you look into the flames, do you see it like I do? The homes falling, burning, being swarmed?”

“It’s all I see.”

“I wish I could look after you now.”

“But you don’t have to anymore. We’re set for life.”

“There must be some way I could be useful.” Mother pursed her lips. Her eyes glinted. “I have old friends from my childhood here. Many of them have their own children. Perhaps I could set up a meeting with some of them? I know Sir Laurence is very handsome.”

I laughed. “No, Mother. Thank you. I’m sort of already...seeing someone.”

“A noble?” Her voice was critical.

“Not at all. I have too much of my mother in me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“He understands, Mother. If I married a noble, how could I be happy? I’d have to hide all the time. I’m so tired of hiding.”

“Is he...like your father?”

I nodded. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Her lips thinned into a severe line. She opened her mouth, and then she shook her head. She chuckled. “Well, it’s just as well I’m not like my mother. You can rest assured I won’t disown you. But be careful, darling. If you’re talking about who I think...well, he can be a bit wild.”

“You’re just upset he trailed that weird mud over the floor from Darktown.”

“Whatever it was, it had red stains!” Mother shuddered. “But it’s just as well. If you’re happy, I won’t get in the way.”

I stood up: I pulled her into a hug, folding her in. I was a head taller than she was. I stroked her hair. “I don’t mind looking after you, Mother. It gives me something to do.”

“Is Anders interested in children?”

Maker, I’ve said too much.

I blushed. “I...don’t know.”

“Well, grandchildren would give me something to do.” Mother drew away, beaming. “I could teach them how to curtsy, dance, sew, cook, sing!”

“After you were done teaching them not to light the house on fire.” I grimaced. “With their genes, it’s certain they’d all be mages. You could handle several apostate toddlers?”

“I handled two, didn’t I?” Mom puffed herself up. “I’ll figure it out.”

I bet.

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you, Marion.” She pulled me in for another hug and stroked my hair.

#fictober21 #fictober #fanfic #dragon age #dragon age fic #writing #creative writing #writers #writeblr

[the-ineffable-demon-crowley]

The Temple

You’re chosen to be an offering to the angel Aziraphale in exchange for a miracle: protecting your village from invaders. As divine intervention (or a rigged coin toss) would have it, Aziraphale ends up travelling to Edinburgh, and asks Crowley to go collect the offering for him. Except Crowley was told it would only be a few baskets of harvest. Not you.

Pairing ↝ Anthony J. Crowley x reader 

Genre ↝ Smut, fluff 

Length ↝ 7.1k words

Warnings ↝ Probably loads of sacrilege (this is not meant to offend any religion/peoples) - temple sex, religious themes, mentions of blood-drinking, oral (m receiving), fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, general demonic sexy times 

“I’m away to Edinburgh tomorrow.” The angel said.

“So very damp.” The demon complained. “I’m meant to be there as well.”

“Well... suppose I’ll see you there, Crowley.”

Crowley turned his head and smiled wickedly at the angel named Aziraphale. Though he tried, the angel did not look as surprised to see that look on the demon’s face as he should have been. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d come to form some sort of an arrangement. 

“I’ll flip you for it.” Crowley offered. 

Aziraphale paused and looked over both shoulders, hesitatingly so as if he expected God herself to come out and discorporate them both. He then looked at the demon, and nodded subtly. Crowley smiled to himself, and reached in to grab a coin from his pocket. He always kept one in his pocket just for such an occasion - there had been many arrangements over the centuries that required flipping. He could probably count on one hand the amount of times Aziraphale won. 

He held it between his fingers, then with a snap, flipped it. The coin hung in mid-air until Aziraphale called it - and he almost always calls ‘heads’. Tails is reserved for you, for obvious reasons, he once explained. The coin fell onto the back of Crowley’s hand with a soft tap, proudly displaying the opposite side. Aziraphale huffed, slightly put off at the typicality of the result as he crossed his arms. He still never questioned the fairness of Crowley’s flips, which he should have, Crowley reasoned, so it was perfectly acceptable that he not broach the subject. 

The coin was slipped back into his pocket. 

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale conceded, arms dropping to his sides. “I’ll go to Edinburgh. And you stay here where it’s lovely and... warm.” He pouted, but Crowley flashed his signature grin, and Aziraphale knew there was no appealing the demon. 

“Bring your wellies, angel.”

“You really are a scoundrel. Now, let me think... Alright, then I shall have to wrap up some things here then, and be out first thing. Oh drat! That reminds me - there’s a small village east of here that pledges some of their harvest to me, be a dear and go pick it up. It’s just a basketful or two of fruits and vegetables. I wouldn’t want to be rude.” 

Crowley blinked behind his spectacles. “I’m sorry, this lot give you a sacrifice like you’re some sort of ancient deity?”

Aziraphale scoffed in his posh way. “Hardly. I did some petty miracles for them a few decades ago, revived some malnourished crops, and this is their way of thanking me. It’s become a proper tradition.” He smiled, chest puffed out a bit, pleased with the idea. Crowley looked less enthused, tossing his head to the side with something nearing a sneer on his face.

“Won’t they notice we look only slightly different? Y’know, general demonic appearance, and all?”

“No, no, you needn’t be seen. Just go to the temple at dusk, there’ll be nobody in there. Oh, Crowley, you simply must go. They have the most divine pears.” 

Crowley barked a laugh at that. “How am I meant to go into a temple? I’ll be tenderized into a pair of boots.”

“It’s less of a temple and more of a ceremonial altar. Really, now you’re just looking for excuses, Crowley. And anyway, you owe me. I’m almost certain you cheated this time.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and miracled himself away after the last word. Crowley noticed how he’d only said ‘this’ coin toss, and he wondered what made Aziraphale suspicious this time. Perhaps he hadn’t put enough oomph into it. Well, it was a small price to pay for not having to ride a horse in Scotland. Picking up a basket of fruits from some temple sounded relatively doable, and he knew Aziraphale would never forgive him if he stood between him and his pears. 

Especially pears that he’d eat with crepes. 

So Crowley waited until dusk fell, then he sought out the village to the east. It didn’t take long, not for a demon anyway. When he came upon it, the sun was beginning to set and from a tall hill on the town’s perimeter, he watched as the villagers doused candles in their homes. A breeze buffeted Crowley’s loose tunic, the ends of hair not tucked into the bun tickling his shoulders. He trained his eyes on each of the simple yet sturdily built structures within the village until he spotted one in particular. Even from a distance, he could see that the wood and stone used to build it were ornately carved, with a looming arch and small pillars. It positively screamed temple- er, ceremonial building to him, anyway.

As the little village tucked away under the hill prepared for slumber, Crowley set down the hill rather leisurely. He’d miracled himself to appear invisible, his presence marked only by an invisible breeze. What the villagers saw was a bit of a leaf swirling in the wind, when in reality, he traipsed through the town quite comfortably, glancing at each of the homes as he passed. 

Though most of the lights had now been doused, Crowley saw that a few people stayed outside, positioned several feet away from each other, at what seemed to be their posts. Weapons glinted menacingly in their hands, axes and knives and bats. They were arming themselves. But against who? 

Crowley continued on, idly wondering what sort of miracles Aziraphale had managed for the villagers, and if they had gone sour. 

Still, he was only here to pick up some fruit; it was no concern of his. Perhaps he’d mention it to Aziraphale later, if he remembered (though the last time he’d had a mind to remind Aziraphale of something, it had been a few thousand years later and that particular civilization had collapsed). Regardless, he continued on with his stroll through the folksy town square, under the awnings of the shops until he reached the front of the temple (in his mind it was still a temple). 

His chin tilted upwards as he surveyed the building, found it rather mediocre as far as temples went, and sighed quietly. Bloody angel. He lifted one hand, and with slender fingers, snapped himself inside. Immediately, he felt the overwhelming solemness settle onto his shoulders, a most unsettling feeling. He shook it off, and looked down to see his feet were still firmly flat on the ground. No burning. The angel was right, it wasn’t concentrated.

“Hm. I would’ve thought he’d be lying if he wasn’t an angel.” Crowley mused to himself. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of red hair back that had fallen out of the bun behind his ear, and stepped deeper into the temple. The building was mostly stone inside, with altars carved into the sides of great boulders worn down and shaped to be suitable to build with. 

He walked along the interior, fingers brushing over the cool stone faces of the pillars, mindlessly loitering around, seeing no fruits or vegetables, until he spotted another door. The inner sanctum. Alright, let’s get this over with. 

Crowley’s light touch against the wood of the door prompted it to open without a single sound. As he walked in, the entirety of the room was shrouded in shadow, aside from a raised stone platform which was bathed in the light of the moonlight from the skylight above. His steps were slow, the heels of his shoes clicking quietly against the stone floors. His eyes fell upon the bounty; a basket of plump fruits, fresh vegetables, what looked like some baked goods wrapped in cheesecloth, and... a woman.

Crowley blinked behind his black spectacles as the woman raised her head from her position laying on a flat stone surface where the foodstuffs had been placed. She did not seem surprised to see him, which did not necessarily comfort him any. 

“Ngk.” Said Crowley. 

The stone was cool against your cheek, and your breath was even as it fanned out against the rock beneath you. Your fingertips traced patterns around the small embedded stones mindlessly, shifting only slightly when the hardness of the surface began to stiffen your bones. The moonlight cast pale blue light upon your skin, and black shadows underneath your raised hand. You studied it with pointless scrutiny, anything to keep your mind off the coming dawn. The one you weren’t likely to see.

Truth be told, you weren’t afraid. There were worse things than being offered to an angelic deity as an attempt to beseech him to protect the village from a looming threat. It had to be done. Even from behind thick stone walls, you could hear the clattering of the weapons the able-bodied brandished to protect themselves and their loved ones through the night. The sounds travelled down through the skylight, and you tried to close your ears to it all, humming a soft song to yourself to fill your mind. 

You thought you might be nervous, pacing, climbing out of your skin, but nothing suited you more than just laying there in the moonlight. Almost as though you could already feel the angelic presence surrounding you through the moonlight pouring in. Reassuring you that things would be alright. But the moon would also act as a signal. It was said he would appear when the moon was at its peak; directly above the opening of the skylight above you. For now, it simply skirted the edge of it, as though peeking in. Wouldn’t be much longer now, you mused. When you volunteered to be the offering, nobody really argued. You had almost no ties to this village, having been left on the doorstep of this very temple when you were just a baby. 

The phrase ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ rang true in your case, and while everybody was kind and generous as you grew up, nobody took the role of family. Everybody already had their own, and you didn’t fit into any of them. Nobody had time to spend on a child that wasn’t blood when survival was on the line. So you wandered around from home to home, perfectly content to spend your days lost in the forests around or holed up in this very temple. How poetic that you were now being offered up in the same place you had been abandoned just two decades ago. 

You’d wanted more from life, and this was your way of getting it, no matter how it all ended. But your intentions weren’t all selfish. You still loved the village you grew up in, and you didn’t want to see it burned to the ground by invaders. You couldn’t afford to lose another home, even if you weren’t around to see it saved.

Suddenly, the stillness of the atmosphere was disturbed. A soft clicking sound reverberated in your ears, the unmistakable noise of a leisurely cant. You lifted your head, and found yourself staring at a man. 

Who was certainly no angel. 

“Ngk.” Was all he said. You blinked as he stepped closer from out of the shadows, clearly very uncertain of your presence. His lithe and lean form was slightly hunched as though in thought, fingers stuck in the pockets of his dark trousers. His black tunic hung loosely from his shoulders, as did the bun on the back of his head, allowing stray locks of fiery hair to come loose. But what was most peculiar was the pair of black spectacles perched atop his nose, hiding his eyes from you. His entire presence was slack, nothing at all like the formality you’d been expecting.

You stared at each another for a silent beat. 

“Is that how most angels talk?” You asked, your voice ringing through the stone walls. You hadn’t meant to sound impertinent, only that you were fairly certain no angel looked like this, clad in black like a warrior. He was beautiful like an angel would be, but a different aura seemed to flow from him than piety. Temptation. 

“Er, yes. Something like that anyway. And um, you are?” His voice was low, smooth, but decidedly confused. You smirked. 

“Y/N.”

“Right, that obviously clears it up.” He responded sardonically. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m here as an offering to the angel Aziraphale. And your name is?” You raised a brow, lifting yourself to a seated position. Your white dress positively glowed under the moonlight, bringing an ethereal aura to you. Crowley blinked at the sight of you behind darkened lenses.

“Aziraphale, of course. Silly girl.” Crowley replied easily, smirking in return.  

You scooted to the edge of the raised platform, letting your feet rest on the stone step below, and adjusted your dress to drape nicely over your legs. Glancing at the man with a scoff, a disbelieving smile encroached on your lips. “I think not.”

“And what makes you think to the contrary?” His words were almost purred, the first attack of charms from... whatever he was. 

You lifted your hand and gestured vaguely at him. “Just. All of you.”

“You have a way with words, don’t you, love?” 

“Well,” You shrugged, absentmindedly touching your hair. It had been done up, but you rolling around on the ground had made it come loose. You touched a few stray strands, unsure what to do with your hands, and dropped your eyes from the man. “I guess I didn’t think being a sacrifice required much articulation. I am, after all, an afterthought to all the pears.”

“Ah yes, those bloody pears.” The bloody pears that had netted him in this situation. And Aziraphale, he’d get an earful. Did he know about this? Was this revenge for the coin toss?

“An angel who curses.” You deadpanned.

“A sacrifice with a lip.” He responded smoothly.

You stood from your place on the stone table, and stepped down from it. He hadn’t moved this entire time, regarding you from a distances with cool indifference. If he was here to eat you, he was taking his sweet time. Perhaps he liked having philosophical, self-scrutinizing discussions about his identity with his prey. Perhaps he just liked being a trickster. You couldn’t read his eyes, and that gave him the advantage. You’d essentially decided that he was here for no good, though for all intents and purposes, you’d obviously never seen an angel before. Who were you to decide what one should look like?

“You’re still keeping up this facade?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m merely here for the food. What you’re doing here remains an utter mystery to me.” Crowley gestured towards the food with his elbow, his fingers still locked in the pockets of his trousers. 

You crossed your arms over your chest petulantly. You hadn’t expected any sort of fanfare, but this was getting a little insulting. Wasn’t this meant to be a little bit more... climactic? 

“Look, are you going to take me or not?”

Crowley choked on nothing. “Pardon?” 

“Take me. As an offering.”

“To what extent exactly?”

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “To save my village, you... being! We’re at risk of being raided by another clan, we need nothing short of a miracle!” 

Crowley made a noise of understanding. That explained the brandishing of the weapons outside the temple. Apparently the village was looking to tack on another miracle in exchange for the girl. Though what Aziraphale was meant to do with her, he had no idea. “That lot out there, with the angry faces and sharp things.”

You didn’t know if he was mocking you or not, but the longer you stood in front of him, the more you were starting to get a little distracted from the matter at hand. The way he was standing in the moonlight let you look at him more clearly, and it was becoming unsettling just how beautiful he was to you. The fact that you couldn’t read his gaze made him all the more mysterious, the more unknown. And you wanted to know who this man really was.

“What’s your name?” You repeated. 

“Crowley.” He purred again, suddenly taking a step forward. Despite your initial confidence, you jumped and nearly tripped over the steps as an attempt to jump back. You’d barely noticed he’d given his real name in that moment. “Well skittish, aren’t you, love?” His long fingers calmly reached for an apple that sat atop the pile. It was a bright gleaming red, though it looked like a pallid pink in the light of the night. 

“Not a pear?” You couldn’t help but tease, though your voice shook a bit. Perhaps it wasn’t best to anger him, not until you knew more about him. The closer he was, the more curious you became. His features were sharp up close, but chiseled like a statue. His skin looked smooth, and his hair soft to the touch. You swallowed. 

“Oh, apples have been a favourite of mine for a long time.” He grinned like he knew something you didn’t, and took a bite. Gesturing with the pierced fruit at the baskets, he spoke while chewing, “Go on. It is yours, after all.”

You were still sat on the edge of the step on the side of the table, having somewhat collected yourself after falling back. Still, your heart hammered. He was an unpredictable, strange man, and you were alone with him. But.. you were also hungry. Crowley continued to chew, this time pacing a few steps back and forth as he surveyed the temple, as though he’d only come in for a visit. Though it was surely akin to some sort of sacrilege, you leaned forward and plucked a peach from one of the woven baskets. It was soft and ripe in your hands. You took a bite, but your eyes did not leave the curious man. 

“So you’re not Aziraphale.” You deduced, sucking the juice from the peach. Crowley swivelled on his heel at your words, the apple now missing several bites from it. He continued gesturing with it as he spoke.

“‘M not. But I do know him. He was indisposed, so here I am.” He sighed quietly. “Dealing with his complications.” 

You hooked your arms around your knees, your peach hooked between your thumb and index finger. “You’re also not an angel.”

Crowley shrugged. “Nobody wants a history lesson, love. I fancied a walk, and sauntered vaguely downward one day. It became a whole thing.” 

You quirked a brow at that, chewing another bite of the fruit. “A demon then.” 

Crowley began slowly pacing towards you, but you forced yourself not to flinch. The longer you spoke, the less afraid you were of him, but that didn’t mean you knew what he was capable of either. “Very good, angel.” He praised in that raspy voice. You felt yourself flush, and hoped the temple was too dark to see. “How d’you feel about that, then? Being in the same temple as a demon?”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Truthfully, you hadn’t even considered that. 

“Well-”

“And what was Aziraphale meant to do with you, anyways?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s just what’s done, isn’t it? Whatever he saw... fit to do.”

Crowley was silent for a beat, but the smirk on his lips said it all. “And as his stand-in, does that extend to me? Do whatever I see fit?”

You laughed dryly. “Only if you keep up your end of the bargain, demon. And you can’t do miracles.”

“‘Course I can, angel.” He tossed the empty apple core into the air, snapped his fingers, and it disappeared without a trace. Your lips parted in surprise. The peach pit also suddenly disappeared from between your fingers, leaving them empty and sticky from the juices. 

“How...” You murmured to yourself, staring at your hand, then stood up triumphantly from the steps. “Wait, you can? Then you can help us!” You picked up your skirts and ran down the steps towards the demon, stopping just a few feet short. It was hard to keep your wits about you, especially when he turned to look at you with thinly veiled curiosity. Even from behind his glasses, you could tell he was as intrigued as you were. 

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then furrowed his brows. “Why would you want to help a village that’s offered you up so easily?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I still want to do right by them. And anyway, this was my choice.”

“Well, that’s normal.”

You smiled to yourself; he was right. This was not the normal thing a young woman would choose to do, but you were beginning to get the feeling that this was meant to happen. “Will you help us?” Your request was quiet, your voice barely travelling the length of the distance between you. 

Crowley didn’t respond for a moment, and he thought hard. Between you and Aziraphale, he’d get an earful if he didn’t do this one favour. Especially if this town’s pear supply was eradicated. Nobody had to know. 

“I don’t have to, y’know, ceremoniously drink your blood if I say yes, do I?” 

“Well, I’d think you’d know more about the nature of demons than I would, Crowley.” You purred his name back at him, attempting to throw some of his tricks back at him. It seemed to work; he raised his brows playfully.

“Nah. Our lot prefer alcohol, and this being a temple and all, I don’t fancy there being any nearby. Your blood will have to do.” He nodded solemnly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Jokes aside, you paled at his words, which he seemed to find very amusing. “Relax, angel. Not my taste.”

“Will you take the harvest then, in return?”

“I will.” 

“And me?” You felt your heart begin to beat faster. “Are you going to kill me? Do you need my s-soul?” Curses, that was difficult to get out. Perhaps this sacrifice business required a little bit more strength than you’d anticipated. When actually faced with the reckoning, you’d begun to falter. You balled your fingers into fists, digging your nails in to keep yourself present. It wouldn’t do to pass out now. 

“Is that what you want?”

You didn’t respond. You let out a shaky breath, and released your nails from your skin. Crowley began to slowly walk towards you, just five paces or so, absolutely nothing for his long legs. He towered over you, but his presence was not as intimidating as you’d expected. For all intents and purposes, he’d been respectful of you during all of this. So you weren’t afraid when he raised his hand, and using his index finger, slowly traced it down your cheekbone to your jawline, and along the column of your neck. His touch did not travel any farther down. Your breathing grew shallow, skin burning from where he’d touched it. It was an addictive feeling, and you found yourself already craving more. 

“I’m not going to kill you, angel, because that would be a sin at which even hell itself would shudder. I don’t need your soul or your blood.” He spoke lowly, calmly, and all the while you couldn’t think of anything but his hands on you again. To your frustration, his hand fell to his side and did not come near you again. You hung on his every word, entranced in the sound of it, the roughness of it. “Your village will be safe from any attackers. And in payment for this miracle, I just came for the fruit.” His mask fell away, and he grinned again. “Don’t tell anybody, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

He stepped back away from you, and the spell between you was broken. His eyes turned towards the baskets still lining the steps of the ceremonial altar. He stepped around you to assess them, and with three consecutive snaps of his fingers, they disappeared. The stone steps were bare now, except for you, the last of the sacrifices.

“I can’t go back.” You said suddenly. Crowley turned his head to look at you, a confusion etched on his features.

“Are they expecting to find a bloodbath in the morning or something? Blimey.”

“No-” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, though defeat was beginning to seep into your voice. “No, it’s just- I don’t belong there. I never did, and if I go back to the village as the one who escaped the sacrifice, they’ll never accept me. Even if the raiders never attack. They’ll say it was their own doing, warding them off with their men.”

“That’s why you did this whole sacrifice thing then?”

“Yes.” You replied quietly, almost feeling foolish. “I just wanted to experience something new, feel a purpose. Even if it was just for tonight.”

“Right. Of course.” Crowley took his spectacles off, but his eyes were closed and his fingers were rubbing at them. You couldn’t help but peer, trying to see the reason why he wore them even in the darkness. He replaced them before his eyes opened again, but from what you saw, he looked perfectly normal. He let out a short breath, “You’ll have to come with me then, angel.”

“Wh- to hell?”

Crowley snorted. “Not unless you’ve committed some atrocious sins, which I somehow doubt. Anywhere you like. Other side of the world, or across the river. If you can’t stay here, you can choose where you’d like to.” 

Relief burst through your heart, though outwardly, you were still coming to grips with his words, standing perfectly still with your mind racing. It all almost seemed too good to be true, and yet you’d be damned - literally - before you let it all slip away. Crowley was standing on the raised part of the stone platform, and you stepped onto it to meet him. He still towered over you, looking devilishly handsome in black. 

“That’s two miracles, then.” You looked up at him. He was watching you curiously. Your eyes scanned his face. “The addition of a second miracle requires further payment. Can I give you something?” 

Crowley inclined his head in acquiescence. The moonlight drowned both of you in its cold, blue light, yet the demon in front of you still looked warm to the touch. His hair retained its fiery red colour, even tucked back into the loose bun, and his skin was a warm hue. You lifted your hand, fingers mirroring his previously as they traced over his cheek and jawline. It was then that you noticed a small black smudge near his hairline, depicting the symbol of a snake. Your other hand came up to cup his other cheek, at which point you stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his. 

You felt him kiss you back, you felt it with every fibre of your being as his lips pressed into yours, deepening the kiss. The feeling immediately spread warmth into your chest, but it didn’t last. He broke the kiss, concern adorning his face.

“You’re not indebted to me.”

You smiled. “Not anymore, I’m not. The kiss was your payment. Anything else is because I want to.” 

“Anything else?” He repeated in that low tone, and you just knew he was doing it on purpose this time. “Don’t you know it’s bad practice to tempt demons, angel? What am I meant to do?”

“Sin, of course. Silly demon.”

He playfully mocked your teasing smile, which made you laugh. The sound quickly died in your throat as his lips crashed against yours again, this time more fervently. It wasn’t until your own hands, gingerly and hesitantly, touched his sides that his hands came up to rest on your waist. For a demon, he was certainly gentlemanly, you thought dryly. 

You became bolder by fisting his tunic in your hands as his kiss deepened, his large hand come up to snake into your hair. Your updo began to fall apart at his touch, though you suspected that was no accident as pins tumbled to the floor. His other hand tightened around your waist, bringing you closer against his lean, hard body. The juxtaposition of his rough tunic and leathery trousers compared to your white, draping gown created a delicious friction, and you wanted nothing more than for him to tear it off. He broke the kiss again, both of his hands slipping along your waist, down to your hips and over your bottom. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, a small gasp from your lips. He brought his mouth to your ear.

“Just remember you asked for it, love.” He growled, then licked a short stripe down the column of your throat, just underneath your ear. You shivered in his arms, nails digging into him. “As long as you want this, you’ll get it.”

“And when will I get it?” You teased, at which point you felt his teeth nip at your neck. You let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of his canines scraping against your skin, and you felt him laugh against the crook of your shoulder. He soothed the sting with a kiss, at which point you heard him murmuring against your neck. 

“Are you a virgin, love?”

“No.” You admitted shyly. 

Crowley chuckled again. “It’s not a requirement.” 

“Now, first things first,” He lifted himself to his full height, and you tipped your chin back to regard him. The moonlight created a soft aura around him, in direct opposition to the wicked way he was looking at you now. You could practically picture him licking his lips. “On your knees. Like a good sacrifice.”

Before taking your position, you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, unable to stop yourself from tasting his skin. Your eyes fell to his trousers, and you began undoing the corded leather belt that cinched him in. His waist was impossibly slim, and you couldn’t help but see the snakelike resemblance. You could already see he was hard through his trousers, and you teasingly passed your hand over the bulge. He hissed in pleasure, one of his hands coming down to tangle in your hair, now freed from its pinned-up confines. “Don’t tease me, love, or you’ll have a long night ahead of you.”

You chuckled smugly to yourself, and began to kneel down when you felt your legs hit a soft surface. A cushion had appeared on the stone surface, providing a welcome barrier between your skin and the cold floor where your dress would not have sufficed. 

“A kind demon.” You mused to yourself, and you felt his grip tighten in your hair impatiently. You smiled, knowing he must not have appreciated that. Finally, you pulled his trousers down, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He was long, but mostly he was thick. You let your hand pump against him a few times, then you proceeded to take him into your mouth. 

Crowley groaned above you, fingers scraping deliciously against your hair. You saw that he was trying his best not to thrust into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but internally applaud his self-restraint.. for a demon. You bobbed your mouth up and down, using your hands for the last inch or two you couldn’t fit. He was hard and heavy on your tongue as you swirled it around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum. 

“Oh, so good for me, angel.” He said hoarsely. 

You placed your hands on his hips, eyes flickering up to his as you sucked on his cock. His praise warmed you, but it was the sensation of being on your knees for a demon that was beginning to make you soaked between your legs. When his eyes met yours, you nodded slightly, and he acted upon the permission you gave fervently. His hips gently thrusted forward against your mouth, causing tears to spring to your eyes almost immediately. You dug your nails into his hips after a few more thrusts, and he pulled himself out of you, your saliva connecting to his still hardened cock. 

“There’s a good love,” He praised quietly, and pulled you up from your knees. “But I need you to stop there, if I’m to take you properly.” He spun you around with a flick of his wrist, deft fingers immediately working on the clasps of the dress. You knew he could have just snapped his fingers and it would have disappeared completely, but you weren’t complaining against the feeling of his hands against your skin, caressing as the gown fell to your feet. He slowly turned you back around, hands slipping from your hips to your breasts, which he kneaded gently. 

You took the opportunity to tug on the bottom of his tunic, which disappeared in a moment’s notice at your request. His pants followed, leaving you both naked. 

“I’d love to taste you, angel.” He murmured as he fell to his knees himself in front of you, and you blushed at how obvious your arousal was. It was not lost on him, either. “-But I can see you’re far too excited for that, hm? Do you think you’re ready to take me, angel?” His fingers slowly made his way between your legs, and with practiced swiftness, one of his fingers slid inside of you. You let out  a shuddered gasp, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin. 

“Yes, let me take you, Crowley.” You hissed at the feeling of his thumb barely ghosting over your clit, but giving you no relief in your frustration. He was enjoying the power, you saw it in his grin. “God, please.” 

A second finger slid inside, and your breath quickened at the feeling. You were positively dripping at this point, your arousal slick against his fingers. Again, his thumb just barely touched your clit before his hand was gone completely, and you were in his arms. Desperate for his touch, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, and felt yourself being lowered onto a soft sed of blankets. Turning your head to the side, you saw that you were surrounded by a lavish display of feather-filled cushions and blankets, turning the raised stone surface into a temple of hedonism. 

Crowley hovered over you, his arms corded with lean muscle on either side of your head. His hair had almost completely come loose from his bun now, so you reached up and tugged the rest of it out, tossing the band aside. His red hair fell to frame his face, creating a hellish aura that seemed far more appropriate for him and his station... and for what he was about to do to you. You reached up, brushing some of his hair away from his face. 

“Can you take them off?” You whispered, seeing a tiny version of your face reflected back at you in a fuzzy, distorted image against the black spectacles. 

“Not sure you know what you got yourself into, love.” He warned, but raised a hand to take them off all the same. You watched his body shift, appreciating the sinewy way he moved. The spectacles were gone, and you gazed up into his uncovered eyes. They were a little startling, perhaps, but you had assumed he’d look something of the sort. You raised a hand to swipe your thumb underneath his eye, smiling as you looked up at him. His gaze was green-yellow, positively reptilian, but you preferred it to the blackness of the spectacles; at least now you could see the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. 

You tightened your legs around his hips, and bucked up. The heat boiling in your lower stomach was getting to be too much to handle. Crowley’s face scrunched in a moment of pleasure as you displayed your frustration, and his grin grew.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you? So eager to be sullied by the likes of a demon. Ready for me?” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone, and you nodded, feeling yourself dripping against both your skin and his. He must’ve felt it too, because he didn’t spare another second before sinking fluidly inside of your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, your breathing immediately becoming uneven as his hips, slowy at first, then steadily, built up a pace. 

He was thick and hard inside of you, hips rolling against your pubic bone in order to hit that one sensitive spot. You positively keened against him, never having been so full before in your life. Bucking your hips against his, you finally started to feel the friction you had been searching for so desperately this entire time. Crowley’s hips pounded mercilessly against you, skin slapping against yours in the silence of the temple. Only your groans and his panting could be heard, though it was steadily growing louder. 

You cried out when you felt his hand snake down between the two of you, and begin to rub against your clit. His thumb pressed down against it harshly, and you squirmed against the overwhelming sensations. All the while, he thrusted in and out of you without breaking his rhythm. 

“Crowley!” You sobbed, your own hips unable to keep up. Instead, he pressed you down with one large hand, the other still rolling around your clit. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take his relentless cock.

“Yes, angel.” He hissed, pleased with the way your sensitive body was reacting to him, back arching as you desperately sought your release. Oh, he’d give it to you, alright. “I’m here, and you are mine. Say it.” His hand released your hips and moved to your breasts. 

“I’m-” You cried out again as his fingers rolled one of your pebbled nipples.

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” He cursed at the way you clenched around him when he said that.  “Liked that, did we? Knowing your release is in my hands? Be a good girl and say it.”

“I’m yours!” You panted between your words, your breaths now laboured as his fingers returned to your clit. The only way you could tell that he was close too was by the way his hips began to stutter against yours, though each of his thrusts remained hard and perfectly calculated to hit your sweet spot every time. 

It didn’t take much more - a few more swipes, and the sight of his face, a wicked smile that reached his demonic eyes, to set you off. You bucked your hips against his a few times to ride out your release as it sent sparks up and down your spine, and stars behind your eyes. You tightened your legs around him as he thrusted one, two, three more times inside of you, fingers still swiping at your clit. You squirmed at the overstimulation, fingers digging into his back as he pressed his hips against yours, spilling himself inside of you.

“Fuck, angel!”

You gasped, feeling his hot cum fill you up, and you desperately soaking all of it up. He collapsed beside you moments later, and you felt your arousal mixing with his release all over the inside of your thighs. But you were too exhausted, laying spent on the velvety blankets, to care. A thick fur blanket materialized on top of you, and you happily pulled it over your shoulders. The moon had now passed over the skylight and was no longer visible. Instead, the sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of purple. The thought of morning almost seemed threatening to the little hideaway this had become for the two of you. You smiled as you felt Crowley’s arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. His chin rested on top of your head, and you were certain he could feel your heartbeat hammering away underneath his hands. 

“Well, I don’t know what Aziraphale would’ve done with you, but I know it wouldn’t have been that.” 

You couldn’t help but a laugh, fighting sleep as it tried to take hold. You wanted to cherish was little time you had left in this temple, silly as it might have seemed. Though you wanted nothing more than to see the world, and hopefully Crowley again, you knew you’d look back at this village and this temple (and especially what happened inside of it) with happiness in the years to come. 

“I guess it’s a good thing you showed up instead, hm? Can I call it kismet?”

“If you like.” Crowley’s nose nuzzled against your neck. “Though I prefer ‘divine intervention’.”

“Who, Aziraphale?”

“No, love, a rigged coin-toss.” 

You turned your head to face Crowley with a disbelieving smile. “All of this was dependant on a coin toss?”

“A cheated coin toss, you must learn to listen.” Crowley taunted.

“And you didn’t know I’d be here?” You asked, your fingers trailing up and down his arm, the one wrapped around your waist.

“No, I sent him packing to Edinburgh. He asked a favor of me to come here.” 

“Hm. So you won the coin toss, yet you did him a favor by coming here... then you did me a favour by promising to save my village, and to take me away from here.” You looked up at him, sparkly-eyed, high on the pleasure still coursing through your blood. Crowley’s gaze narrowed, and you grinned. “Awful nice of you. Did his angelic tendencies rub off on you?”

“I’m not nice!” Crowley grumbled petulantly. “’M a demon.”

“Of course you are.”

“Right then, let’s have that neck. Time for the ceremonial blood-drinking.” Crowley’s hands slithered against your body, and you shrieked at the feeling, squirming between fits of laughter. When his teeth nipped against your skin again, you screamed in mock fear of the villainous demon. Crowley’s mouth against yours muffled the sound, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Meanwhile, down in the village, the moon began to fade, and the sun began peeking out over the horizon. The otherwise dewy and tranquil morning was broken by the sound that of blood-curdling scream, followed by an eerie silence that seemed to settle over the town. All of the villagers looked out from their windows, some stepping outside to see if they could witness anything happening. They all sighed and shook their heads, tutting at what a shame it was for the young woman to be taken so. Yet, as the fear began to shake off of them with every passing moment, a sense of relief spread through the inhabitants. The anxiety was gone. They would be safe now. 

And so would you. 

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens AU #good omens fanfic #good omens smut #Anthony Crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony crowley x reader #anthony j crowley x reader #anthony j crowley x you

[dayseternal-blog]

A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other.

Written for NaruHina 2020 August - Cultures/Around the World

Rated G

Inspired by “Torch Song” by @mmmbuttery (emmykay)

Here we go, a story I've worked on since November of last year. Despite the months of creation, this story is simply boy meets girl. This one is close to my heart, and I've second-guessed posting it.

It's loosely based on my parents' high school stories and how they met, and the experiences from many recorded accounts of people from that generation, the 1970s. I wrote this mostly with the intention of diving into and imagining their time period.

Finally completed, of course it’s late for August, in true spirit, I stay on island time.  This story is titled after “About You” by Cecilio & Kapono, a 1975 Hawaiian pop classic.  

One Shot - About You

The bus bumps and lurches on the potholes.

She notes when they pass by a friend’s house, lit only by the dim orange street lamps over dark driveways.  There are so few cars out on the road that every time the bus pulls over and the door opens, she can hear the high-pitched hum of crickets in the grass.  It’s all a familiar rhythm that might have put her to sleep on any other night.  But she already took a long nap, readying her internal clock for the new schedule.

She’ll be taking this route for the rest of the summer, heading from the bus stop next to the local library straight to the cannery.

It feels alright, better than she was expecting.  She was worried it would feel lonely--her friends are all working the cannery, too, but in the daytime.  She wanted the extra nickel the night shift earns, bringing her up to $1.40 per hour.  

She’s always thinking ahead--the more money she manages to save now for business college, the less she will need to work later.

The bus slows down to a stop, picking up probably the last passenger before it gets on the freeway straight to town.

She relaxes into her seat, settling in for the drive out of the suburbs.

“Hinata?”

That’s weird that someone would know her at this hour.

She turns her face away from the window and sees him standing in the aisle, as if he was about to sit down in the row in front of her.  “N-Naruto?”  She regrets her stutter.  She just wasn’t expecting to see him.  At all.  

“Hey!  Howzit?”  He looks genuinely surprised to see her, too.

“Good...”  She returns his bright grin with a shy smile of her own.  She tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear.  “I’m heading to the cannery.”

“You working cannery, too?”

“Yeah...are you?”

“Yup.  Gotta make dat extra nickel, yeah?”  He smiles disarmingly as she nods, and he takes a seat.  

She wants to relax.  But she can’t.

Because it’s him.

All 5 feet 9 inches of beautiful boy sitting in front of her on a relatively empty bus.  He’s taller than the average local Japanese, due to his hapa blood.  And as if height wasn’t enough to make him attractive to all the girls, he’s funny.  And clever.  Athletic and nice.  A little rascal, but that only increases his charm.  She has so much adrenaline pumping through her from that one tiny conversation, she knows she’ll be exhausted before they even get to Honolulu Harbor.

-

The forewoman, a middle-aged Portuguese lady, takes her and another girl named Tenten to the lockers.  “Wear dis.”  She passes them a white apron and hairnet.  “You girls get gloves?”

They both nod, pulling out their plastic gloves, required in the job description.

The lady glances at the gloves, bored expression unchanging.  “Follow.”

Hinata tucks all of her hair up into the net, and she knows she probably looks like an enoki mushroom, dressed now all in white.

They follow the forewoman to the assembly floor.

“Here.”  She hands them knives with the same carelessness of someone who’s been doing this for ages.  “Take all da extra skin off cuz da machine no get ‘m all, look, but gotta do ‘m fas’ kine ah.  No let da pines go down widdout cleaning ‘m,” she explains, pointing and waving at the conveyor belt.  

Hinata nods.  Four girls stand silently before a machine that’s spitting out bright yellow, skinned pineapples.  They grab at them quickly, and then with practiced flicks of their wrist, they nick off the remaining bits into slots for the rubbish.  They put the pineapples back down on the belt, where the fruit runs along to another set of girls, who give them another checkover.  Further down, the fruit runs into a machine with circling blades that chop them into slices.  

Rows and rows of young women dressed in white aprons with mushroom-netted heads stand around conveyors and machines.  

Young men cross over the upper ladders and walkways carrying pineapples to dump into the machines and sticks to poke at the fruit in the chutes to prevent jamming.  

The smell of pineapples is pervasive, sickly in its sweetness.

Not too much later, a bell shrills throughout the warehouse, and she’s taking over for a girl who’s now off-duty.  She grabs at the pineapples, turning the weighty fruit over in her palm and cutting brown spots of skin off with the knife as quickly as she can.  Droplets of pineapple juice stick to her gloves, and soon enough, the juice is dripping down the latex.

She’s not thankful for the gloves for long.

The juice runs down, and every stretch of her arm to grab at the fruit or place it back down feels sticky in the crook of her elbow.

Minutes turn into hours of watching pineapples.

She has no idea how the world eats so many pineapples.  

How is it possible that people love pineapples this much?  That the machinery is rarely turned off?  That all of the state’s teenagers are employed every summer to work the fields and machines practically 24/7?  

As unfathomable as it is, she finds a strange awe for the tropical fruit that she never had before.  To pass the time as she trims the skin, she imagines where these pineapples are going.  Who’s going to buy these pineapples.  What country they’ll end up in and what language the people speak there.  And whether they have ever seen a whole pineapple before.

But then again, maybe they’re all just going to the Mainland.  Women who look like the movie stars with perfectly curled, blonde hair will open the cans for their families.

The bell rings, the machines stop.

They have 30 minutes.

The more veteran workers zip off to the lunchroom, not waiting for anyone.

Hinata smiles tiredly at Tenten.  

“Whew,” the Chinese girl sighs.

Hinata nods in agreement.  “I never seen so many pineapples before, I think.”

“Yeah, me, neither.”  Her brows raise to emphasize the point.

-

By the time they get off at 6 in the morning, dawn is breaking, traffic is slowly building along Nimitz Highway, and she knows she must absolutely stink of pineapples.

But Naruto waves and stands beside her as they wait for the bus, as if he doesn’t care.  Maybe he can’t smell her, desensitized now after so long in the warehouse.  “Morning, Hinata,” he laughs, and the joke is not lost on her.  

She smiles weakly, only his good attitude motivating her.  “Good morning,” she manages to reply.  She’s too exhausted to feel shy about standing beside her crush.  After all, she was standing for the last several hours.  All she wants is to sit down.

“How wuz it?” he asks conversationally.

She pinches her lips into a tight frown.  “I had to trim the pines at the ginaca.”  She gestures halfheartedly with her hands, showing him the flick of an imaginary knife she used.  All night.  She’s almost certain that she’s the machine now.  “What did you do?”

“Oh, wuz pretty neat!  I jus’ had to keep da cans moving on da belt an’ stick da lids inside da kine, machine, and then the cans pop out.  I did da tops.”

She blinks at him.  Forces a weak smile out that she barely feels in her heart.  Sounds easy…  But that’s to be expected, after all, women usually handle food anyway.

“No can wait fo’ sit down, yeah!” he laughs.  He doesn’t sound tired, but it occurs to her that maybe he never does.  His natural excitement is what makes him popular in the first place.

She nods.

When the bus pulls up to the curb, Naruto lets her get on in front of him.

The bus driver pulls a face as she pays.

She frowns, a hot blush spreading over her cheeks.  She tried to clean up as best she could after her shift, but apparently, it really was all for naught.

“Go in da back!” the driver directs, none too friendly.

She does so, even though the front seats aren’t full.

Naruto laughs outright as he pays, unashamed at his own stink.  “What, uncle, wen try fo’ wash off, still stay pilau?”

“Eesh,” the driver utters in response to the teen’s cheekiness.

She doesn’t know how he’s not embarrassed, nor how he’s able to talk back to strangers like it’s nothing.  It’s just another case in point of her admiration and curiosity of him.  She picks an aisle-facing seat, and, to her surprise, Naruto sits right next to her, his knees spreading open.

She’s not as tired as she thought.

Nerves race up her legs.  She stares at her hands, which she carefully places on her knees, which are closely pressed together as ladylike as possible.  Not a single part of her touches him.  She thinks she might die if their legs touch.

And that’s how she doesn’t doze off on the long ride back home.

-

He meant to brag to his friends about working graveyard shift when he saw them that first weekend.  Sure, the hours are junk, but, Ho, should see da chicks!

Particularly the one he rides the bus with.  Hinata Hyuuga.  A small, Japanese girl.  Brains and looks.  Not to mention her unusual, light eyes, making you question her race.  But, nah, no real question about it, she’s Japanese through and through with her shy, quiet manner.  She’s someone he imagines could win the Cherry Blossom Festival pageant with her smooth skin and round eyes.  He and the guys always steal a poster of the new year’s contestants from the supermarket window.  Pictures of pretty Japanese girls’ profiles all lined up, free to admire.  She could definitely win.  If she ever tried.  But she’s not very personable.

Not that that ever stopped him from talking to whoever he wants to talk to.

Yet he ended up not mentioning anything about Hinata to his friends.  Not the next week, either.

Somehow, she just comes off as out-of-his-league.  At least, he’s certain that’s what his friends would say.  Just mentioning her would probably earn him jokes.  He’s pretty sure she’s in all the high, smart classes.  But he doesn’t know much about that--and she’s a year younger than him.  He only knows her because his social club had a gathering with hers last year, invited by Sakura.  There’re lots of pretty girls in that social club, and, unusually, it has girls over two grade levels.  Just the younger girls didn’t catch his attention last year.

Needless to say, he’s thinking about her now.

Not much else to think about while he drops lids into the machine.  It’s monotonous work, but he knows now that his job is way, way better than Hinata’s.

-Two weeks ago-

His jaw dropped when he saw her on the bus the second night.

She had covered her arms self-consciously with her hands when he got on.

Of course, that action was what drew his attention.

Bright.  Red.  Streaks and bumps.  A rash.  Mottling her fair skin in the crook of her elbows to the middle of her forearms.  Both sides.

“From da pines?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded, her eyes turning down, as if somehow the rash was a personal fault.  

He looked away, realizing his staring was only making her feel worse.  “You have da kine..sensitive skin?”  He wondered belatedly if talking about it would only make her feel worse worse.

“Umm...yeah…”  Her voice sounded even quieter than her usual.

He frowned awkwardly, though she didn’t see it.  He sat down beside her, still looking away.  “Jeez.  Das real junk.”  He swallowed back his strange feeling of guilt.  Her pain wasn’t his fault.  Her job placement wasn’t his fault.  So why did he feel like he was partially responsible...?  “Uh, dere anyting fo’ do about it?”  He suddenly felt like cringing at the sound of his own pidgin.  His heavy speech just further emphasized his upbringing compared to hers.  Someone classy like her shouldn’t be doing a job like that, right?  “‘Cuz like, can only get worse, yeah?  You get medicine fo’ put on or someting?”  He couldn’t help jabbering on and on.  When he starts feeling uncomfortable, that’s just what happens.

Thankfully, she continued the conversation.  “Mhm.  I saw yesterday some of th’ other workers wuz wearing two gloves.”  She opened her purse and pulled out a pair.  The hands were cut off.  “Like this, see?”  She pulled the glove on over her elbow like a sleeve, then pulled another, uncut one on so that they overlapped on her forearm.  

“Ho, neat idea, yeah?”  He nodded in approval.

She smiled in response.  “The juice no can get inside, I think, yeah?”

“Yeah!” he emphasized.

She smiled a little more, obviously not embarrassed anymore by her arms.

And he felt proud of himself for getting them out of that uncomfortable start to the bus ride.  Felt oddly self-satisfied that he got her to smile.  Decided right then and there that he was pretty interested in her.

But he hasn’t really made a move, yet.  The thought that she might turn him down is there.  He’s been turned down enough times that rejection isn’t really what’s bugging him.  It’s that she never seems to be in a good mood after their shift is done.  That, and he doesn’t want it to be uncomfortable for the rest of the summer in case she does reject him.  He would still have to catch the bus with her every night and morning.  Too bad his dad doesn’t let him take the car to work.  He gets it, though.  His dad needs the car to go to work.

Well, he’ll figure it out later.

The bell screams, signaling the start of their lunch break.

He joins a group of Farrington guys he befriended over the course of the two weeks.  There’re a lot of them working at the cannery, being that the high school is only a neighborhood away from the warehouse district.

“Eh, Naruto, you surf?” Omoi, a dark-skinned Filipino boy with sun-bleached ehu hair, asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, excitement bubbling.  But only on the weekends with Shikamaru and Choji.  He lives central, not at all close to the ocean, making beach trips longer than ideal.  “Why, whatchu thinking?”

A guy they call “C,” Naruto has no idea what it’s short for, leans forward.  “We go dawn patrol, Kewalo’s.”

Right after their shift, at the surf break at Kewalo Basin.  Sounds solid.  “Eh, shoots, we go!  Tomorrow den?”

“Yeah,” Omoi affirms.  “Prolly gon wash da pine stink off, yeah?”

C’s eyes widen at Omoi’s shoes, shaking his head.  “Eh, brah, I no tink so, you dripping pines ova hea, bet yo feet kill, phew!”

“You faka, you no can talk, da flies stay all buzzin’ ‘round you!” Omoi shoots back.

Naruto frowns, considering that Hinata has the same job as Omoi, one of the few guys assigned to a woman’s job.  Over the course of the job, Omoi’s shoes had soaked in pineapple juice that dripped from the cutting.  This didn’t seem to be as big a problem for Hinata, who, for some girly reason, wore sandals despite the long hours of standing.  “How come you no jus’ wea rubbah slippahs?”

Omoi shook his head with a serious expression.  “No can fo’ do dat brah.  I only get one good pair!  Already wen ruin deez shoes, no sense ruin my slippahs too.”

“Dis broke faka ova hea, he no get money fo’ buy one noddah pair from Long’s das why!” C laughs.

Naruto shakes his head, laughing out loud.  “No way you dat broke!”

Omoi turns to C, faux annoyance twisting his face.  “Eh dis haole ri’ hea like get lickins?”

Instead of looking threatened, C just humorously shoots back, “You like go, we go!”

“Go den, shoots we go,” Omoi answers, squaring up.

“Yeah den go cuz, shoots,” C threatens back.

But neither of them stand.

Naruto rolls his eyes at their idiotic banter.  Rarely is he the voice of reasoning, but he supposes it would be a different story if his school friends were here.  “Eh we go Kewalo’s shoots.”

They turn back to him, huge grins on.  “Yeah, we go!” Omoi says enthusiastically.

“Bring your board yeah?” C reminds him as the bell rings again.

“Yeah!”

He tells Hinata that he can’t go back with her the next day, and she just nods and smiles.  Tells him to have fun.

And it’s a slight relief to not worry about the ride back home with her.  He’s starting to feel like maybe she’s expecting him to ask her out since they spend so much time together.  Well, really, he’s expecting that of himself, but he just can’t right now.

She’s just not any other girl at school in these current circumstances.

-

Hinata never meant to be one of those girls.

One of those girls, picked up on a stretcher and taken to the medical room to recuperate.

But on the first day of her period, she was exactly one of those girls.

She was feeling so tired.  Legs like jelly.  Sore up her thighs.  Aches digging around her lower back.  A weighty twisting in her core.  A heavy day.  It made her feel lightheaded.

The pineapples, one after another, going by, making her feel a little dizzy, like maybe she needed to close her eyes.

Shutting her eyes for a second didn’t help.

A breath, two breaths, intentional breaths.

She felt like maybe she was going to make herself start hyperventilating, the opposite of what she wanted.  She wanted to breathe normally.

Focus on the pineapple.

It felt too heavy in her hand.

Her focus sliding off the pineapple, to the sticky yellow glint of the knife.  Back to the pineapple.

She looked up, dazed, her eyes taking too long to adjust to a point on the far wall.

“Hinata, you alright?” Tenten asked.

She tried to refocus on the girl on the opposite side of her.  She nodded, blinking, trying to concentrate on their job.

“You don’t look alright.”  Her voice was too loud, like everything else going on.

Too loud, pounding.

She closed her eyes, heat searing her temples.

-

“-nata?  Hinata?”

She slowly gains consciousness, to find Naruto looking down at her.

“You okay?  You wen faint dey said.”

“Oh,” she manages to utter, trying to get her bearings as the room and bed take shape in her mind, blinking away the dazed vestiges of sleep.  “W-what time is it?”

“Our shift only pau now.”

“Oh.”

“You feeling okay?”

She slowly sits up, nodding.  “Yeah.”  She must not have been out for that long.  She really thought she would make it to the end of the night.  “Were you waiting for me?” she asks, suddenly panicked at the realization that he is here with her.

“Ah, nah, nah.  I come in jus’ now.”  He gestures at the door.  “You weren’ out dere, so I jus’ wen ask somebahdy.  Dey said you wuz in hea.”

“Oh.”  That’s good that he wasn’t waiting for her to wake up, but, still, she never expected him to do something like this.  “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs.  “No problem.  Ready fo’ go?  Can walk or..?”

She nods, scooching off the bed-like table.

And he walks with her to check-out with one of the heads, and then back to the bus stop.  Waits with her there.  And when it’s obvious that he’s going back with her despite the longboard he’s been holding this whole time, she haltingly brings it up.  “You not...going surfing?”

He shakes his head carelessly.  “Nah, I go tomorrow.”

She ducks her head, biting her lips.  “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nah, waves not hitting today, so.”  He shrugs, looking past her for the bus.

Obviously an outright lie, but she accepts it over drawing out such an uncomfortable situation.

“You no feel good today?”  He sounds honestly concerned.

“Um, I felt fine earlier.”  Well, in truth, she felt okay.  The normal period cramps.  As okay as a heavy day can be.

“You not sick?”

She shakes her head.  She wants to sit down.  The bench has the older workers sitting down, so she never gets to sit until the bus comes.  She shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to relieve the weight from her hips and pelvis.

It’s such a relief when the bus comes.  She ignores the bus driver’s daily grimace and makes for the back row as quickly as she can.

He watches her sit down, audibly sigh, and her whole body kind of just melts into the stiff chair.  It’s obvious that out of all the days so far, she’s the most tired today.

Or has she been like this?  He just didn’t know because he’s been avoiding her in the mornings?

Ten minutes into the long ride, he’s thinking that it’s a good thing he’s going home with her today because…he thinks she’s falling asleep.  Her head keeps jerking in his peripheral vision, so he decides to stop being considerate and turn to look straight at her.

Her eyes are drooping heavily, she’s blinking really hard...she is falling asleep.  Or, trying really hard not to.

“Hinata.”

“Huh?”  Her eyes fly wide open, obviously forcing herself.

“Sleep, I go wake you up later.”

Her cheeks redden.  “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t trust him, or…what?  She’s embarrassed?

“You sure?”

She nods.  “Yeah.”  Her voice sounds too breathy to be fine, but if she says so...

It’s no surprise to him when her body starts slumping over, her head weighing the rest of her body down and toward the seats in front of them.

She’d be even more embarrassed about this position, right?  So he reaches over to grab both her shoulders and kind of push her back upright.

Well, that’s what he meant to do.

Her eyes open as if spooked, and she straightens out of his hands.  “Sorry!” she gasps.  Expression all pinched, she looks like she feels really ashamed.

About what, though?  If anything, he feels bad about how tired she is.  “No,” he reassures.  “No worry ‘bout me.”  He’s trying his best to sound comforting…  “Should get some rest, s’okay, I go wake you up befo’ my stop.  Trus’ me.”

Her eyes squint, like she’s straining to focus.  “...maybe.  But I don’t like sleep..on da bus.”

He can’t help a laugh.  “Ha, you look like you goin’ give yourself da kine whiplash back-an-for'-li’ dat, jus’ relax.”

“Mm…”  A noncommittal answer, but one that doesn’t argue, so he can’t push the issue any further, either.

They settle back into the sound of the engine roaring along the highway, and pretty soon, her body’s starting to lean over again.  He refrains from helping her, even though she looks uncomfortable.

She looks like she’s going to wake up with a sore neck.  Her blood’s probably rushing to her head in that position.  That’s not good, right?  She literally just had a fainting spell not too long ago.  So having her head lean against the rattling window pane wouldn’t be ideal, either.  Since they’re sitting at the back, she might really conk her head hard if the bus has to stop.

With more care than the first time, he tries to guide her to lean against him.

For a moment, her eyelids and brows wiggle and bunch up, but swiftly return to their placid state.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

He should ask her out.  She doesn’t ignore him or outwardly show any disinterest, so…sometime he’ll do it.  Just of course not today.

When he sees that he’s getting close to his stop, he calls her name, “Hinata.  Hinata.”

“Mm.”  She sits up and blinks, a hand hurriedly wiping her mouth.

Drool?  He’s trying not to smile like a goofball, but kind of failing at hiding his selfish amusement.  “I gotta get off now.  You gon’ be okay?”

She nods, making eye contact for a second, only for her gaze to immediately skitter away to some unknown point on the bus floor.

“‘Kay, you take care, yeah?”

She nods again, still refusing to look at him, her hands busy everywhere touching her face and then her hair, fixing who-knows-what.  She murmurs something.

“Huh?” he asks in a knee-jerk reaction before his brain pieces together that it sounded like an apology.  “Oh, no need say dat.”  He reaches over to pull the cord for his stop and grins.  “Maybe I see you tomorrow, yeah?”

She nods, glances up at him for a second, and looks down once more.

He gets off the bus feeling pretty good about himself in the bright morning sun.

Only to realize--

Maybe he should have made sure she got home all the way.

Maybe he should have gotten off at her stop with her.

The library isn’t really that far a walk back to his own home.

…

She’s probably fine, right?

She wouldn’t have fallen asleep again, right?

Why did she faint anyway?

Should he have asked more?

His consciousness won’t let up.  He could call, but if he calls, then he really probably will need to ask her out eventually.  Well, he plans on it anyway, but if he calls, then that would really solidify things, and she’d expect something from him by, like, tomorrow.  

Well, that’s all hypothetical.  If he can even find her name in the phonebook...

...He finds it.

“Who you calling?” his mom asks, teasing him, as she pops up beside him in the kitchen.  “Noddah one of your girlfriends?”

“...No…”

“Ohh, you asking a girl out?  Why you no jus’ call her?  She goin’ turn you down, ah!” she laughs, all by herself.  “Who like go out wit you, ah?”  Her laughter rings throughout the house.

He wishes he could yell at her to shut up, but then she’d go get the slipper and give him some serious dirty lickins.

So he keeps his eyes on the phonebook, and with his mom’s derision motivating him, picks up the receiver and hooks his finger into the first digit, gaining self-confidence with each pull, release, and spin of the dial.

If it’s the parents, then that’s fine.  He’ll make a good impression.  Maybe.  He doesn��t need to talk to Hinata, he just wants the family to know that she fainted.  He gets the feeling Hinata’s not the type to talk about things like that to her family.

But then...maybe the cannery already called them about it.

The dial tone ends.

He takes a readying breath.  “...Hello?”

“Hello?”  It’s a young girl’s voice.

“Is this Hinata’s house?” he continues, desperately trying to imitate a school valedictorian or maybe a teacher...

“...Yeah...Who’s this?”

“This is Naruto...I, uh, work same place, at da cannery.”

“...She’s not home, yet.  And she’s not supposed to talk to boys.”

What?  I tought she in dat social club?  “Well, I no need talk to her.  I jus’ like you guys know that, uh, she wen fainted at work, yeah.”

“...”

“...So, she should be home soon, I get off da bus a little befo’ her, I jus’ like try check she gets home okay..yeah..”

“...Okay.”  In the background, he hears a faint voice talking before the girl on the line continues, “It’s a boy.”

“Huh?”

“He’s saying Hinata fainted at work.  And that she should be home soon.”

He realizes she’s talking to someone else, so he awkwardly waits.

“Okay, ...uhhmm...”  Her voice trails out for a solid second.

She talking to me now?  “Oh, yeah?”

“Thank you, I’m gonna go meet her.  Bye.”

“Oh-”  The line cuts, his own goodbye stuck in his throat.  He places the receiver back down, uncertain what to make of that whole exchange, wondering what about it left him dissatisfied.  He did what he meant to do, after all...  That must have been a younger sister.

“Hinata?  You neva talk about her befo’,” his mom observes as she gathers her things for work.  “You met her at da cannery?”

“No, she one year youngah dan me at sku’.”

“She wen faint?  Why you neva walk her back home, ah?!”

“I no tink dat until aftah!” he defends.  “Das why I wen call!”

“You no can get one decent girlfriend acting li’dat, ah!, dis stupid son of mine, ahh, ah, if you jus’ focus on sku’ mo’, get bettah grades, get mo’ smartah, ah,” his mom tuts and laments off on a tangent, and he ignores her.

He sees her off for work at the door, his mind turning back to whether he needs to ask Hinata out tomorrow.  Especially since, “She’s not supposed to talk to boys.”  What’s that about?

-

He never does find out.  There’s no way he could ask such a question, and the summer passes too fast for him to face her plainly.  He’s not sure why, but whenever he imagines her turning him down, the idea hurts a lot more than it should.

Logically, he knows itʻs just a yes or no answer.  He’s been turned down here and there.  He’s gone on numerous dates, danced with girls, and played silly social games with the opposite sex at parties.  And concerning Hinata, she’s a year younger than him, so the chances of seeing her on campus are a lot smaller, so he wouldn’t have to face her that often if she does turn him down.

So why can’t he just ask her out?

-

She held out hope.

She thanked him profusely the day after, and he was extremely nice to her.  He went back on the bus with her for that entire following week's shifts, making sure she was okay, before he determined that she was safe enough without him.

He went back to surfing in the mornings.

The day of their last shift, she held out so much hope.

He didn’t ask her out.

So she tries to shrug it off.

The disappointment.

The deep, far too deep, disappointment.  She’s probably just not his type.

But to her surprise, that’s not the last time she sees him before school starts.

Their social clubs host a joint car wash to raise money.

She pushes down her shy feelings, knowing that if he has absolutely no interest in dating her, then there’s really no reason for her to act strangely around him.  It would simply be rude of her to ignore him after spending all summer the way they did on the bus together.  Gathering her courage, she walks up to him and calls out his name, “Naruto!  Hi!”  She smiles, hoping to appear as cheerful as possible.

“Oh!”  He turns from his friends, already knowing whose voice it was, but still caught off-guard.

She’s dressed really casually--in shorts, a shirt, and rubber slippers, obviously appropriate for the day’s work, but still strange to see on her.  He somehow thought maybe she didn’t own casual clothes like that.

“Hinata!  Hi!” he responds, a little belatedly.  He feels really stupid, somehow his grin feels unnatural, too tense.  He watches her smile again and then turn back to her friends.

Something gnaws at his consciousness, like he missed out on saying or doing something he should have done in that moment.  Ask her how she’s been in the past week?  He just saw her not too long ago, so that would be dumb to ask.

“Whose dat again?”

He blinks out of his stare and turns to Sasuke.

“Hinata.  Hinata Hyuuga.  We bo’ worked night shift at da cannery.”

“You ask her out?”

“...No, nah yet…” he admits, nerves crawling around, making him feel guilty out of nowhere.

Sasuke raises a brow.  “You like her?”

He shrugs his shoulders, frowning, trying to play off the intrusive question as nothing to him.  “...Yeah…”

Now both of Sasuke’s brows are raised.

Naruto shifts uncomfortably.  Every single second here is making him realize he should’ve gotten the deed done and over with already.  Now she’s around all of his fellow club members.  Any one of the other guys could ask her out by the end of the day.

She could take a liking to one of his friends.  He realizes that his chances were so much higher when it was just the two of them.

-

She and Sakura walk around helping to pass out sponges and buckets.  They introduce themselves to several boys, all of them very friendly.

Hinata herself feels very friendly.  After her act of courage in facing Naruto, after getting that difficult exchange done with, she feels pretty bold.

She’s in this social club to have fun!  She won’t let a little one-sided crush damper her day!

True that none of the other guys are as naturally magnetic as Naruto, but she knows that first impressions aren’t everything.  All of these guys in his social club seem perfectly nice, helping to fill and carry the heavy buckets of water for the girls.

She sets to work on a car, excitedly engaging in discussions about the new school year with whoever works beside her.  And with an observant eye, she manages to not work on the same side of a car as Naruto.

Two hours pass in laughter and good spirits, even with how the noonday sun beats down, pouring heat over the asphalt lot.

The once cool water comes out hot from the hose, and the buckets are just puddles of liquid sun she has to dunk her hand and sponge into as infrequently as possible.

The constant bending is nothing to her, though.  After a whole summer of cannery work on her feet, she’s pretty sure she’s more fit than last year.  She’s not even sweating as much as she thought she would.

Until she gets up too fast.

Her head sears hot, her vision darkening into pinpoints of bright light.

She tries to squint, to see through the sudden tunnels of black, but her eyes burn, and just as quickly, she feels off-balance, her head too heavy to hold up.

She crouches down, face in her hands, confused and pained.

“Hinata, you okay?”  Sakura, most likely.

“I can’t see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see,” she repeats, trying to stay calm despite the painful splotches of color beneath her eye lids.  “It hurts.”  And she feels like she’s going to pass out, but she refuses to embarrass herself like that in front of everyone.

“Oh my gosh… Water.  Water!” Sakura says louder.

“Wut’s wrong!”  Another voice.

Oh no, not that voice.

“She’s dehydrated I think!”

“Oh shit,” he curses.

Hinata sits as still as possible, focusing on not tipping over into a ball and fainting right there on the dirty, poky ground.  Not again.

“Here, water,” Sakura says, her voice stressed and concerned.  “Can you raise your head?”

“Mm.”  She slowly lifts her face and opens her mouth.

A plastic water bottle is placed at her lips, lukewarm liquid flowing onto her tongue.  She drinks it dutifully, the pain in her head clearing rather quickly.

She eventually pushes the water bottle away and wipes her lips on the back of her hand.  “Thank you,” she breathes out, relieved that her head’s weight is starting to feel normal again.  But she keeps her eyes closed, too afraid to strain her vision.  Or to see if she attracted everyone’s attention...or to find out if Naruto is still there.

“Do you feel better?” Sakura asks, still sounding way more worried than necessary.

“Yeah, thank you, Sakura.”

“Can you see?”

“I don’t know…”  She doesn’t want to test herself too soon, but she cracks her eyes open, if only to assure Sakura that she’s okay.

The world is a bright fog through the slight cracks of her eyelids.

But it doesn’t hurt.

“I’ll be able to see fine in a minute, I think.”

Sakura sighs in relief.  “Good.”

A random boy whose deep voice she doesn’t recognize asks what happened.

“She dehydrated,” Naruto answers.

Hinata doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or dreadfully embarrassed that he’s still there.

“Oh, das not good,” the other boy assesses.

“Yeah…” Naruto agrees.

“I’ll be fine in a moment!” Hinata pipes up, her personality automatically choosing to feel embarrassed.

The unknown guy makes a sound of uncertainty.

“Yeah, Hinata,” Sakura adds on.  “I don’t think you should help out right away.  You could’ve gotten heatstroke.”

“Heatstroke?” she asks.

“Dere’s no shade ‘round hea,” Naruto comments.

Hinata slowly forces her eyes to adjust, hoping to prove them all wrong.  “I can see.  I’m fine.”  She starts to get up carefully.

More sounds of uncertainty resound behind her, and she hates how all three of them are treating her like she could collapse at any moment.

Like, even if she could collapse at any moment, even if that is what just happened, she doesn’t want this to be how everyone sees her from now on.  Like some weak, stupid girl who forgets to drink water on a hot day.

Even if that is what she is.

“I can take her home.”  Naruto’s invitation has her finally turning around to face her audience.

To her relief, it’s just the three of them, Sakura, Naruto, and a pretty, black-haired Japanese boy she’s seen him hanging out with.

“Yeah, take her home,” the pretty boy says.  He claps Naruto’s arm.

Naruto gives some kind of smile that’s really cute, and Hinata has to force herself to try not to examine anything he’s said or done in the past five minutes.

He made her over-examine his behavior all summer, only for it to amount to nothing.  He’s just really nice and treats her like a good friend.  That’s all.

Sakura helps her walk to his car.

And all too soon, she’s sitting right next to him.

Naruto starts up the engine, blasting the AC so that cool air roars onto their heated faces.

“I’m sorry.”  She gulps down a knot of discomfort in her throat, already regretting so much.

“Nah, no need say dat.”  His stomach feels sore, his legs antsy.  He was trying to nonchalantly work on the cars by her, but somehow, he wonders if she was avoiding him.

She’s too nice to do that, right?  She never tried to avoid him at their summer job…

He needs to gauge her interest in him.  So after he backs out of the parking space and safely makes it into traffic, he ventures conversation.  “How you feeling now?”

She nods.  “I feel better.  I could’ve stayed, I think…”

“...Oh…”  He’s already on Moanalua Home Road, and turning around now would be humbug.  “Are you sure?”

“Mm…”  She’s not sure.  She just doesn’t want to seem so frail.

“‘S'okay, ya know?  Already get plenny help, das why, no need chance 'm.”

“Mm...okay… Thank you...I’m sorry…”

With conversation finding its natural, quick end, he finds himself wracking his brain for ideas.  He has about five more minutes with her before they get to her house.  I should ask her out...I should just ask her...just ask her…

“Oh, I like this song.”

“Hm?”  He turns the radio up, glad to focus on something outside of his brain.  “Oh, yeah!”

It’s a newish one by Cecilio and Kapono, one he imagines will be really popular at social club dances, the slow tempo is perfect.

Not knowing what else to do to fill the silence, she starts singing softly.  She can tell he’s glancing at her, but she keeps her eyes fixed determinedly forward, her gut turning to jelly as the romantic meaning registers in her mind.  “...Our small moment that we shared, Is only yours and mine, No one else is really going to know, That I care about you…”

His cheeks flush.  This song really is perfect for a social club dance.  He never paid that much attention to the lyrics, but with her soft voice singing them, the words are suddenly resonating, hitting a little too close-to-home.

“And all the questions that I asked myself about you…”

He's made up his mind.  He’s going to ask her out.

“Won’t you come and be with me…”

Right after this song.

“That if you come and stay you’re going to see, That I care about you.”

He relaxes into his seat, his grasp, unintentionally tight on the wheel, relaxes, too.  If she's comfortable enough to sing in his presence, then there's nothing stopping him from feeling comfortable, too.  It's actually really nice to know that she's willing to do something like this with him.  He's stressed out for nothing.  He's hesitating for nothing.  And maybe, if things work out, this feeling...this moment...would be normal...

She peeks at him, and...he’s smiling.  He’s not teasing, laughing, or grimacing at her.  So she continues singing, relieved.

When the song finishes, he lowers the volume, reassured, readier than ever.  “Hinata…”

She blinks, realizing they’re really close to her house, and Naruto doesn't know where to go.  “Oh!  You turn left at the intersection after this light.”

Jarred to the present, he suddenly notices his heart racing, despite how calm he felt not even ten seconds ago.  The words get lost on his tongue, and he simply follows her instructions, the opportune moment evaporating into nothing.

“It’s that house,” she points, and he slows, pulling over against the curb.

She turns to him to give her appreciation properly.

But he’s facing directly toward her, his usually cheerful expression one of uncharacteristic focus.

Her heart leaps into her throat.

“Hinata," he repeats.  "You like, go movies with me, sometime?”

She nods, speechless, because yes, yes, yes.

And he visibly relaxes.  He can breathe again.  Her agreement was so much easier than he thought it would be.  “I go check da listings den, okay?  And I’ll call you?”

She nods, eyes growing wide as everything starts to sink in.

He nods, too, an embarrassed smile working at his mouth.  “Talk to you later den, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, a smile forming in reaction.  In a fog of happiness, she steps out of the car, nearly forgetting.  “Oh, thank you for taking me home!”

He nods, thinking that this won't be the last time he makes sure she gets home.  He notices how her happy smile lights up her eyes like earlier at the carwash, but now, it’s directed at him, him only.  And once she disappears into her house, more than anything, he feels incredible relief.

And excitement.

He gets the feeling…

She gets the feeling…

This is going to last.

#naruhina2020 #naruhina fanfic #naruhina fanfiction #1970s au #dialect fic #code switching #race changes au #high school au #thank you for reading!

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

Cooking with Klaus

rating: still as fluffy as i can make it

words: 1.2k

warnings: none

AO3

summary: Claire has a nightmare and Uncle Klaus comes to the rescue.

Klaus was feeling...peckish. He didn’t know what he wanted to eat but he was making his way down to the kitchen anyway. If he couldn’t find anything, he knew Mom’s Mom Sense would alert her someone was in need of some food and it would bring her down to the kitchen soon enough. She’d know what he wanted to eat and give him the healthy version of it, much as he pouted about it. 

He was skipping down the hallway when he heard some light sobbing. He halted his movement and cocked his head. Where was it coming from? He frowned a little but slowly followed the sound. It led him right to Claire’s room.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t have his most favorite niece sad. He knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to surprise her by appearing in her room in the middle of the night.

The sobs quickly cut off and Klaus took that as his signal to enter her room. He gently opened Claire’s door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the minimal light in her room before he made his way to her bedside. 

He kneeled down, laying a hand on Claire’s shoulder, and waited for her to raise her head. It took a couple of minutes but Klaus was patient. He suspected the late-night crying was because of nightmares and he knew how bad they could be. He wasn’t going to push her into talking before she was ready.

“Unca Klaus?”

“Yeah Claire-bear?”

“No monsters in the closet?”

“None that could ever get past me,” Klaus reassured his niece. He knew how scary this house could be, even with all the remodeling and painting they had done to prepare for her arrival. He told Claire what he had wanted to hear when he was a young boy with the ghosts screaming at him. And it was the truth — he would never let anything hurt her if he could help it. Neither would anyone of his siblings, Allison especially. He’d seen the look in her eyes when it came to light that Diego was teaching Claire to throw knives and knew that any sort of closet monster wouldn’t stand a chance.

He repeated his thoughts aloud for Claire to hear, wanting to reassure her some more.

“Promise?” Klaus’ heart almost shattered at Claire’s small but hopeful voice.

“I promise. Cross my heart and all that nonsense.” Klaus giggled with Claire, happy he was able to make her feel better. “Wanna come with me to the kitchen? I need me some food. I’m not sure what I want but if I don’t find it right away, Mom will come and save me.”

Klaus picked Claire up, swinging her up into his arms along with one of her blankets, rambling on quietly as he made their way down to the kitchen. 

“...and that’s why you shouldn’t eat cheese and pudding at the same time. But that does sound good. Maybe we should make some pudding? I don’t know how to make pudding but it could make a fun experiment. What do you think? Some chocolate pudding sounds nice right now yeah?”

“Mom doesn’t allow me to have dessert this late at night.”

“Well technically… it’s very early in the morning. Does she have any rules against that?”

Claire hummed in thought but eventually said, “she does make me eat a healthy breakfast.”

“Well, there we go! We’ll make some waffles then eat chocolate pudding. Healthy breakfast first.” Klaus beamed at Claire, happy he was able to find a way to work around those pesky rules people had about food.

Claire nodded vigorously. When they were finally in the kitchen, Klaus allowed Claire to slide from his arms to land on the counter. He spent a couple of minutes to fluff the blanket around her, but then he danced through the kitchen. He went around opening and closing various cabinets to try and find where Mom might have placed the instant pudding packets. She was getting wise to his ways and had taken to hiding them in more and more complex places so he couldn’t find them. 

He was on the third spin around the room when he heard Mom’s heals coming toward them. He frowned a little, sliding closer to Claire. She had been laughing at his flailing, humming a tone for him to dance to.

“Well, I guess it’s not gonna be pudding tonight Claire-bear,” Klaus gave an exaggerated frown. Claire was about to question why but silenced herself when Mom’s lovely self entered the kitchen.

“Klaus, Claire. Why are you up so late, dears?”

“We got the munchies and wanted some waffles and pudding, please!” Klaus hefted himself onto the counter next to Claire before he moved her to his lap, cuddling her close. 

Mom was about to deny them when Claire, the evil little mastermind that Klaus knew she was, asked “Could you teach me how to make them? I really wanna learn how to cook and Mommy told me you were the best cook ever!” 

Mom melted like snow in an oven and Klaus knew then they would be eating waffles and pudding tonight.

“Well...I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But only tonight, you understand?”

Both Klaus and Claire nodded seriously but the giant smiles growing on their faces betrayed their excitement. The three of them spend the next few hours making a selection of food. They had started with their waffles, making big ones they topped with chopped up fruit. Klaus and Claire had made a mess eating them but Klaus didn’t care. He kept up with his antics, seeing the darkness draining from Claire’s eyes as she continued to laugh at him. 

After they finished with their waffles, Mom had offered to teach them how to make cookies. It went about as well as could be expected, the mess spreading across the kitchen and even into the hallway somehow but they had ended up with something that might generously be called food.

Honestly, Klaus thought they should throw away the cookies he and Claire had made and just leave the ones Mom had made but then he thought about his siblings eating the awful cookies and changed his mind. That would be hilarious. 

The sky lightened up with the morning sun, as Klaus and Claire slowed down. The little amount of sleep they had gotten paired with the sugar crash they were going through meant that eventually, they were soon laid out on the ground.

Grace finished with cleaning up the mess and sighed when she saw her kids. What silly little things they were but oh, how much she loved them.

She finished plating all the cookies, leaving in the ones that Klaus and Claire had made then she bent down and picked up Claire, taking her to the living room. She did the same for Klaus then went to track down some blankets and pillows for them. 

She loved her kids and she was happy she was able to help them tonight. As she tucked them in, she gave them small kisses, smoothing a hand down their hair. 

Silly kids.

#the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #tua #claire hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #grace hargreeves #m's fics #my stuff #cooking with klaus

[searchingforenadi]

writing a will is standard procedure

although it’s terribly misleading, the power of a name like ‘bloody bakery’ is too strong to ignore, so that’s exactly what we’re going to keep it as :O

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

a brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

xxvi.

You spend a few more days reevaluating your life choices. 

Perhaps, you think, hands clasped firmly in front of you, you’ve gotten a little greedy with your  new source of revenue. 

On the other hand, another voice in your head argues, it’s not like you could’ve refused them. Paying customers are the same wherever you go. What kind of business owner would you be if you turned away every customer wearing a fancy suit?

You stare into the empty space of your store, the quiet ticks of a clock ringing in your ears. 

The fallacy of mankind, you think solemnly, is wanting nice things. 

Is this how it always begins? You used to find it ridiculous whenever the media reported sensational news about a company’s descent into corruption. Now, however, it occurs to you that perhaps you’re the one facing that same downfall as well.

Should I write a will? You stare even more deeply at the tiled floor. 

The thought has never crossed your mind before. It’s something you had planned to do when you turn old and grey, but since it looks like your chances of meeting an early demise have skyrocketed in the past few months, maybe you should.

The entrance to your door swings open. 

“Welcome,” you say, already on autopilot. It won’t do to ignore any potential customers right when you’re on the precipice of cutting off your very dangerous, very generous regulars. “How can I - ”

Yamamoto waves a hand. By his side, Gokudera remains silent, his hands inside the pockets of his pants. 

“ - help you?” you finish smoothly. It’s only through a decade of customer service that you’re able to keep a polite smile on your face. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing with a smile. Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out a grunt. 

“The usual then?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on their faces. You’ve spent too long pointedly avoiding Yamamoto’s sword to start staring now. 

Yamamoto’s smile doesn’t waver. “That would be great!” 

You get started on the coffee and, while the water is slowly boiling, you pull out your usual tiramisu cake. 

“So,” Yamamoto says, leaning casually on the counter by your register. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

Yes, you immediately want to blurt out. I saw your friends handling illegal weapons outside my shop. 

“Not really,” you say instead, the picture-perfect image of a clueless baker. “I’ll be shopping at a new place this weekend. Very exciting.”

“I’m sure it is,” Yamamoto says, and it sounds like he means it. You turn back around and pass him the usual box of cake. 

In your other hand is the usual cup of coffee and, right as you’re handing it off to Gokudera’s outreached hand, you quickly glance down. 

His legs, thankfully, are free of any knives. 

Gokudera snatches the cup from your hand. To the side, Yamamoto slaps a hand to his own mouth.

“You - ” Gokudera starts with a snarl, eyes flashing. 

“And that’s our cue to go,” Yamamoto cuts in, stopping a potential crime scene from occurring within your shop. He slaps down a wad of cash and wraps an arm around Gokudera’s neck.

“Let me go, you little - !”

“Keep the change,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing and shoulders slightly shaking. They leave right after, as Gokudera sends you silent death threats while struggling to escape from Yamamoto’s grasp. 

You stare down at the pile of money on your counter. The fact that you’ve narrowly missed an early meeting with your late grandpa seems to pale in comparison to the stack of bills in front of you.

No, a voice that sounds awfully like your conscience whispers, you shouldn’t. Just take the right amount and return the rest! That way, the government has no proof when they knock on your door - 

You very delicately pick up the money and slide it into the register. 

“I’m human too,” you say out loud, to the utter silence in your shop. “We all have our flaws.”

The absence of any response should’ve been telling enough.

xxvii.

The next day, during the late morning, you fiddle through several documents. 

You have enough to finally buy that mixer and now, your days of suffering are over. No longer will you have to hand mix your dough whenever your rusty, old mixer gives up on you. No longer will you weep over its struggle to handle your heavier mixtures - 

The front door opens, sending a warm breeze through the shop. 

“Welcome!” you call out, closing your notebook shut. If everything goes as planned, you should be able to order it by the end of the weekend. “How can I help you?”

You stop. There, standing in all his teenage glory, stands Lambo - your well-paying regular and possible juvenile delinquent.

Lambo grins. “Hi!”

“Hi,” you say, for lack of better words. It doesn’t seem like an appropriate time to mention your eye-witness account of his crimes. “You’re here early today.”

You can’t remember ever seeing Lambo coming into the shop earlier than the afternoon. 

He shrugs, before plastering his face into your glass display. “School’s cancelled today.”

“School,” you repeat, somehow astounded by the news. It shouldn’t surprise you - Lambo is still a teenager and those types of people should still be in school. It certainly explains the fancy uniform he’s always wearing. 

“I didn’t know the local school here required uniforms,” you think aloud, pushing a finger against Lambo’s forehead to remove him from the display. It’s enough of a sanitary hazard that you’re willing to risk getting shot for it. 

Lambo laughs, a little too loudly for the quiet shop. He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, I, uh, go to school somewhere else. Outside town.”

“Outside the town?” you blink slowly. So a private school? It fits the image you have, considering how much money Lambo throws your way. 

Lambo laughs even more, and it is the most awkward sound you’ve heard this week. You take this as a sign to leave the subject matter alone and instead say, “I have some candied fruits, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” Lambo blurts out, his demeanor shifting immediately into something bright. “I want that.”

You wait for a moment.

“Please,” he adds belatedly, before sending you a winning smile. 

An answering smile finds its way onto your face and you move to pack a jar or two. You pull out your usual stash of dango and stick it into the take-out bag as well.

“Make sure you share some with Tsuna,” you tell him, taking his cash and trying not to scan his clothes for any suspicious lumps that would hide a weapon. 

Lambo makes a face. “But you gave him some last time!”

Your smile widens. “I’m not making you share if you don’t want to.”

He droops instantly. 

“Fine,” he says petulantly. “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

You lean onto your display, resting your head on a hand. “If you stop by next week, I might have some mochi for you to try, if you know what it is.”

Lambo perks up, so quickly you wonder if he’s ever gotten whiplash from his constantly changing emotions. “Mochi? Of course I do! I used to eat them all the time in Japan.”

You pause at this new information. “You used to live in Japan?”

“For a few years,” Lambo says, waving a hand flippantly in the air. “It was nice.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, unsure as to why this reveal bothers you so much. “Well, you’re welcome to try some if you’re here.”

Lambo gives you a strange look. “But I’m here almost every day.”

You sigh. “But you shouldn’t. Spend some time somewhere else, Lambo.”

Lambo slowly grins, in a way that tells you he hasn’t even bothered to consider your words, before waving a hand goodbye. 

You run a hand through your hair - sometimes, you wonder why you even bother.

xxviii.

That night, you set your alarm and settle into bed, closing your eyes firmly shut. Tomorrow morning, you will be getting that anko, one way or another. 

If the marketplace doesn’t have any, you already have an order form for azuki beans filled out and ready to go. At this point, price or time doesn’t matter - your desire for anko has transcended all logical thought and has become a primal need.

Just you wait, you think, turning over to one side and pulling your blankets up to your face. 

The next morning, your eyes shoot open the moment your alarm goes off. You slap a hand to your phone and sit straight up, blinking blearily into your dark bedroom.

It takes a short while to feel human again. A cup of coffee in hand and thirty minutes later, you stare out of your window, to the dusty, light blue sky. 

Outside, where the sun has yet to hit your apartment, you inhale deeply, feeling the cool, sharp air in your lungs. 

You’ve already mapped out the way to the new marketplace last night. After a few wrong turns and a five minute break to consider if you’ve perhaps lost all common sense, you eventually find a blocked off plaza full of different sized stalls.

The sun now resting on the back of your neck, you trudge through the plaza, shuffling past a crowd of people huddled around a fruit stall. Staring out into the bustling market, you decide it’s a travesty it’s taken you this long to find out about it. 

You continue wandering down the road, eyes peeled for any hint of your sought after anko. Tsuna had given a general area but it’s up to you to narrow down your search.

The sun rises higher as you awkwardly move around another small crowd of elderly women. Your crane your neck to squint at a particularly promising stall and - 

And promptly walk into a wall. 

Not a wall, you then think, hissing in pain as your hand flies to your smarting nose. Walls don’t feel like fabric and smell like smoke.

“Sorry,” you say, eyes blinking rapidly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going - ”

You pause. Through your watering eyes, your head slowly rises higher and, under a crown of silver hair, Gokudera scowls. 

What are the chances, you think distantly, absentmindedly rubbing your nose. This isn’t the first time you’ve come across a customer outside the shop, but you prefer keeping your business and private life separate. 

“Of course you weren’t,” Gokudera says, rolling his eyes. It might have been more intimidating if he had been wearing his suit, but for the very first time, he’s wearing more casual clothes - a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. 

“Right,” you say, a smile almost making its way on your face. A local marketplace is the last place you would ever expect to see Gokudera, but there’s something about it - the bustle of people, the laughter of children, the scent of fruit and spices - that almost makes him seem approachable. “Nice to see you too.”

Gokudera scoffs, shoving his free hand into his pockets. He tightens his grip on several plastic bags, before turning around and walking away. 

You imagine this is the closest thing to a peaceful exit you’ll ever get from someone like Gokudera. 

WIth a shrug, you resume your search, scanning the stalls and making sure to keep an extra eye on the road in front of you. Strangely enough, Gokudera is still only a few paces ahead of you, with hunched shoulders and trudging feet. 

It doesn’t take long for a set of somewhat familiar characters to catch your eye. You squint immediately, feet stopping in place. 

Like paper clips to a magnet, you walk up to the stall - already, you recognize several snacks you used to horde back when you went shopping at the Japanese market with your mom in the States. 

Your lips curve up into a smile.

A commotion on the other side grabs your attention. There’s an older woman, face flushed red and a package in her hands, speaking loudly to the owner of the stall, an elderly Japanese woman with gray hair tied tightly into a bun. 

All too familiar with irate customers, you send a silent prayer of sympathy to the old lady and look back down. Those same snacks are now somehow in your hands. 

The power of nostalgia, you think, clutching the snacks closer to your chest, is a terrifying thing.

You turn around - and nearly drop everything when you come face-to-face with Gokudera once again.

He narrows his eyes.

“You again?” he mutters, a perplexed look on his face, as if he can’t decide if he should stab you or leave the subject matter alone.

You fix a smile on your face. Maybe you should’ve written that will after all.

But no, you’ve risked too much to leave now. After a second of deliberation, you decide that you’d rather get shanked than miss your chance at finding some anko.

“This is the new place I was hoping to check out,” you tell him, as a reminder that, despite his intimidating appearance, you’re the one providing the goods in this business relationship.

And, because you still value your life (despite your previous resolve), you add, “Tsuna recommended it to me.”

(You actually don’t have a single clue about the sort of relationship Gokudera and Tsuna might have, since you’ve never seen the two together.

But you’re hoping it won’t hurt to bring in some familiar names, just in case, to keep Gokudera accountable.)

Gokudera pauses, his eyebrows furrowing.

Then, with a click of his tongue, he runs a hand through his silver hair and says, “Yeah, whatever.”

You give Gokudera a wide amount of space and he walks around you, grumbling under his breath.

Disaster averted, you continue your (rather limited) shopping spree, walking around to the tune of a woman’s yells. 

A few minutes pass and suddenly, after finding yourself staring blankly at a series of foreign words, it finally hits you. 

You can’t read a single speck of Japanese beyond your own name.

The despair that follows nearly cripples you. It only lasts for several moments, thankfully, because your parents haven’t raised a fool.

You pull out your phone and look up the kanji for anko. Like a makeshift metal detector, you continue walking around, appraising anything that might look like red bean paste. 

The search goes on for a short while before it leaves you completely empty-handed. You let out a long sigh, shifting slightly to accommodate the number of snacks in your arms.

You drag your feet to the register, already calculating the days it’ll take to have azuki beans delivered to your doorstep.

If I pay more, I can get it next week, you think, folding your fingers to keep track of your numbers. It would’ve been a problem a few months ago, spending an exorbitant amount of money for azuki beans, but your strange and well-dressed regulars have solved it for you with their… generosity.

You check the time on your phone. The same woman from before is still at the register, and you’re a little impressed at how she’s gone for ten minutes without taking a single breath.

It’s bothersome enough that you consider dumping the snacks and leaving altogether. From the almost blank look on the stall owner’s face, you can only imagine this will continue for a while.

Except, by sheer coincidence, your eyes focus on the package in the woman’s hands. The kanji looks vaguely familiar, which is impossible, because you only know - 

You quickly pull out your phone and almost drop your snacks in your haste. 

“There’s no way,” you say to yourself, staring at the matching kanji on your phone. 

The stars aligning themselves to dangle anko in your face isn’t the most terrifying part. Rather, you can’t believe you’re actually considering, actually thinking about taking the anko, without knowing where it’s been, or where it came from - 

A rustle of noise grabs your attention, dragging you away from your horrifying, unsanitary thoughts. You look back and, surprise surprise, it’s Gokudera, lining up behind you. 

His lips twist into a scowl as he watches the one-sided argument. It’s a look so foul, you can almost see him planning a premeditated murder. 

Which, he wouldn’t do, of course, because this is a very open space, in a very public area. 

… Right?

He wouldn’t, you think, a little less confidently. 

An ominous creak fills the air when Gokudera digs his fingers deep into the plastic packages in his hands. 

You swiftly walk up to the register, because you’re not particularly eager to witness a crime on a Saturday morning. It’s the grandest act of community service you’ve done since high school and you hope it’ll be the last.

“Excuse me,” you say, plastering on your best customer service smile. “That anko - is there a problem with it?”

The woman stops her tirade to give you a dirty look.

“The problem is that I was tricked!” she snaps, gesturing to the packaged anko. From a glance, it doesn’t look opened. “I asked for regular beans and this old lady gave me this!”

“Regular beans,” you repeat, before slowly looking back at the anko. You’re sorely tempted to ask how red bean paste could ever be mistaken for actual beans, but you swallow the words down.

“That must have been confusing,” you say instead, keeping that smile on your face because you’re a professional. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Ten euros,” the woman says, crossing her arms. “And I’m not leaving until I get a full refund for it!”

You put your snacks down on the counter, pull out your wallet, and hand over the right amount. “Great! Consider it paid for.”

The woman stares at the bills in her hand. “What?”

“Your refund,” you say, taking the anko from her loosened grip. “You can leave now, right?”

It doesn’t take long before the woman leaves in a huff, face still flushed and a hand clutching the cash tight. 

You turn to the stall owner, who still doesn’t look particularly invested in the commotion before her. She studies you for a moment and slowly, a smile appears on her lips.

“---?” she asks you in Japanese, dark eyes gleaming. “--- is okay, but ---”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say, only able to catch a few words. Heat flares briefly on your cheeks. “I don’t really understand.”

(For the briefest of moments, you suddenly wish you had taken your mom’s efforts to teach you Japanese a little more seriously. If you had, would you even be in this situation right now?)

The elderly woman’s smile widens. 

“No problem,” she says, switching to Italian with a heavy accent. The creases around her eyes deepen as she points to the snacks on the counter. “You take this?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, a little startled at the topic change. The stall owner hums, ringing up your snacks and calling out something else in Japanese.

You’re left slightly bewildered when she waves a hand, until moments later, someone else joins your side.

With a slightly resigned expression, Gokudera sets down his own purchases, and answers back in Japanese. 

In completely fluent, native Japanese.

This, you think, blinking rapidly, shouldn’t bother you. Gokudera is clearly, at least, partially Japanese, and why wouldn’t someone like that know how to speak it?

(This time, however, you can’t stop the flash of envy that spikes through your chest.)

You shake away your thoughts when the stall owner passes back your snacks in a bag.

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the bag and adding your newly acquired anko inside as well. “How much should I…?”

The stall owner smiles warmly before saying something to Gokudera again.

Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out an aggravated sigh.

“She says don’t worry about it,” he tells you, looking as if he’d rather be doing anything else than translate an old woman’s words for a random baker. 

You look down at your snacks in surprise. “Wait, really?”

The stall owner says a few more words. 

“‘It’s payment for getting rid of that annoying fucker,’ is what she says,” Gokudera lazily adds.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

You open your mouth, and close it again. 

“Is that,” you finally begin, after another pause. “Is that what she really said?”

Gokudera shrugs, which you find is a far worse response than a simple yes or no. 

You turn back to the old woman, who still has a serene smile on her face. Your head spinning, you say hesitantly, “Um, thank you then.”

Then, because you’re fairly certain you’ve somehow entered the twilight zone, you give a returning smile and slowly back away.

At this point, Gokudera’s purchases have also been bagged and, a little dazed,  you follow him back into the plaza. 

“Well, I’ll see you around then,” you say, a heartbeat too late, but really - who can blame you? “Thanks for translating.”

You’re not sure if you actually mean it, but you imagine Gokudera could’ve ditched at any point, so props to him for helping out the elderly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, his free hand once again stuffed into his pocket. It’s strange how harmless it makes him look for once. “Next time, figure it out by yourself.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you say, after coming to the conclusion that, despite the roller coaster of events, you’re more than willing to return if you can find more of this anko. “I’m used to language barriers.”

The both of you reach the plaza entrance and, with piercing green eyes, Gokudera looks at you like you’re the slowest person on the planet.

“That’s stupid,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Why would you be used to it? Just learn the damn language.”

Something clenches in your chest.

“I,” you falter, the heat returning to your cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that?”

Gokudera snorts. “If you’ve thought about it, but haven’t tried it, does it actually count?”

It’s tempting to give into the acid that burns your throat. Gokudera doesn’t know anything about you and, frankly, it was a terrible idea to continue talking with someone who’s just a regular from your shop.

What’s even worse, you realize, is that he’s completely right.

(When have you ever really put in the effort to learn your mom’s home language? If it bothers you that much, why haven’t you tried picking it up again?)

Gokudera quickly runs a hand through his hair. 

“Look,” he finally says, after the silence stretches for a moment too long. “Forget I said anything.”

But he isn’t wrong. 

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly say, suddenly hit with the awareness that Gokudera, despite his abrasive personality, probably isn’t out to get you. “I… I get what you’re saying.”

If something bothers you, shouldn’t you at least try to go after it? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along with the anko in your hands?

You offer a weak smile. “I haven’t thought about it that way. So I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gokudera eyes you, lips twisting into that same perplexed expression from before.

“Right,” he says slowly. “You do that then.”

And without another word, Gokudera turns and walks away. You stare after his slouched shoulders for a brief moment, before glancing down at the bags in your hand.

Your smile falls and, with a heavy sigh, you rub the back of your neck.

As it turns out, it looks like you have some serious thinking to do.

-o-o-o-o-o-

what? you’re telling me that one of Gokudera’s weaknesses being old ladies isn’t canon? 

i actually had a lighter, more comedic plot point to end this chapter with, but it felt like that would diminish the importance of this final scene too much. heritage is something that matters more to some than others, but when you have different cultural backgrounds, it’s not easy to keep them all equal in your life - i hope this evolving struggle for our MC is clear to the people reading it!

there’s so much i want to say about my thoughts on this chapter, but to keep it short - this is the first time we see MC out of the shop and with it, a new set of experiences and facets of their personality. stepping out of their comfort zone (the shop) and being challenged through it - i imagine that Gokudera is the only one capable of doing it intentionally, at this time.

i know this started of as a ‘shitpost’ for giggles, but i do hope this brings some sort of enjoyment even when it digs deeper beyond the humor. it’s been exhausting to do many things lately, but i’m always grateful for how much love has been sent to this little, silly fic. please stay safe and healthy and aware out there!

#searchingforenadi #fanfiction #katekyo hitman reborn #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato #lambo bovino #sawada tsunayoshi #finally #i will tag this #bloody bakery #this is the peak of my career #a title

[sirensmojo]

“Returned” - Reader x Hvitserk x Ivar The Boneless

Summary: Imagine being the lover of Ivar until he disappeared during a raid, two years later, he reappears out of nowhere and is acting as if nothing has changed between the two of you, but now you’re married and have a child with his older brother Hvitserk.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Word Count: 2,358

*Masterlist*

You were in the kitchen with the thralls, preparing a plate your husband was crazy about, truth to be told Hvitserk was obsessed with food in general, but whenever you took the custody to cook, he was excited beyond measure. The spoon in your mouth, you were leaning above the cauldron, tasting the mixture you made. "Hm, something's missing" You mutter to yourself. Two arms suddenly embraced your waist, without you panicking, you knew exactly who it was. "You're never tired of sneaking in the kitchen, my love?" "I do not even surprise you anymore, what a regret" Hvitserk teased with his nose tucked in the hollow of your neck. A shiver came down your spine feeling his fingers stroking the end of your back, you were very sensitive to his touch "You're scaring the thralls..." You managed to say as you gasped for air, his touch became more and more greedy. "Do I scare you?" "Of course not Hvitserk how-" You began but couldn't finish as his lips crash on you. You smile against his mouth before voraciously kissing him back. He managed to hook your leg around his hips and bunched up your dress to your waist with haste as your moans echoed in his mouth. "May I grab something to eat before you make another child?" Sigurd asked, standing right in front of you both. You frantically duck your hair and your dress with it as the brother of your husband grab and bite into an apple. "Brother" Hvitserk smile as if all of this was normal, "I'm gone, you can continue" Sigurd let out as he disappeared beyond the door. You shook your head "All of this only an apple, a damn apple" Hvitserk exclaimed, and that made you laugh. You turned back and add some herb to your dish, no need to say you were turned off.

***

Later on, you were finally eating, all around the table; King Ragnar, Queen Aslaugh, Sigurd, Ubbe, and Margaret. Even though the queen didn't quite get along with Margaret, she was now married to her son. She had her place into the family. "Mommy! mommy!" "Yes, Frida" You hold a hand to your daughter as she sneaks her way under the table to you, her little face appears on your knees, her plump cheek lean into your palm. "There are boats...I saw them with Floki and Helga from the cliff" Frida lets out her little finger embracing your hand on her cheek. You directly look up to Hvitserk that frowned and glanced at Ragnar. "Are we waiting for anyone?" Queen Aslaugh asked, looking at her husband, but nobody responded to her. Ragnar motioned to his son, and you understood you needed to get safe. We didn't know if they were allies or enemies, and you couldn't risk the life of your daughter. Hvitserk cast a glance at you, and you nodded, "I'll come to you soon enough, don't worry" He added, and you smiled at him. You grab Frida and hold her in your arms, making your way to your chamber. Once you were in, you told her to hide in the wooden floor while you take your knives: one in each hand and stand by the door, ready to fight whoever may enter. 

After a brief moment, the door opens and you jump on the back of the figure without knowing who that was, the cutting edge of your knives on both sides of its neck "Y/N, it's me" Hvitserk breathe his hands up to ease your sudden bloodlust. You chuckled and kissed his lob before biting it "Oh yeah, nice to see your husband" You speak, he shifts you to his chest and kneads your legs with his fingers before pressing his lips to yours. "Stop being so eager, our daughter is here" You murmur inches away from his face and you motioned to the wooden floor. "Frida, my little warrior, you can get out. You have Nothing to worry about" He slowly says with a high pitched voice. He drops you on the ground, and you smile while you see your little one get out of the hole you made in the parquet. "Daddy!" She ran in his arms that he immediately closed around her body as if it was an eternity since they last saw each other. "Who are they?" You managed to ask, and he got up with your daughter still in his arms.

"Vikings, it seems it is our boats" "You're sure we can go safely Hvitty?" "I am" He nodded, and you got to the docks. You left your daughter with Aslaugh as she would always love to spend time with her grand-child and joined the crowd. "Y/N" You heard a familiar voice. You weren't sure who that was yet but when you turned around, your eyes opened wide, "Ivar!" You shouted before scrambling into his arms. He embraced you with one arm as the other was holding his crutch "It's been so long, we all thought you were lost with the ships!"

"There was a bad storm, indeed, but we made it, a little far from here, I must admit, but here we are now" "What took so long?" "We had to make new boats and prove we were not a menace to the king there. He didn't trust us and made us prisoner for quite long" He shrugs, "Prove ?" "We have a reputation, you know. Pagans, Danes that do not negotiate nor that are friendly..." "Oh", "I never had the chance to raid, I'm not quite a warrior nor anything in that style, but I remember you would always tell me about your raids without missing one single details". "As details are important and are making the big picture," You both say together. Both of you chuckle, but in your case, it was more out of nervousness. Ivar cupped your cheek with his palm with a silly smile. He was more than happy to be with you again, to feel you back and just be able to hear your laugh in real life, and not in his mind. He strokes your jawline with his index finger, and you closed your eyes at his touch. He was never touchy with nobody but you, you remember as if it was yesterday... But it was years ago, two years ago now. "It is good to see you, yet it feels like you're a ghost" You manage to speak with a tiny smile. You looked downward, running low on words. "Things changed here, I see" Ivar continues seeing the conversation weren't going anywhere. "Yes... Yes!" You responded, "I'm still a bit upset about your presence, Ivar. I thought that you were lost, that you were dead. Two years its..." "Yeah, I know. For a moment I thought I was too" He sharply let out. You kneed your brows at him, but you were soon called by Aslaugh herself to head to the great hall.

***

"We shall feast for at least an entire week" Sigurd joyfully said, and all the head turned to him. "I didn't know you were so fond of Ivar" You snickered, and he winces at you "It's okay. We are a family after all" Aslaugh retorted, playing with Frida. "is that baby too?" Asked Ivar, and your smile dropped a little. Ragnar and Aslaugh looked at each other a brief instant, and she nodded. "Yes, it seems time didn't freeze" "You're still looking like trash" Sigurd curtly said, shrugging "You were the one that missed me the most, weren't you?" Ivar responded as he throws a dry fruit on his brother. Hvitserk was intently looking at you, you smiled at him in the way of making him know everything will be okay as you could decipher a bit of angst in his pout. You excused yourself and decide to go for a shower, you needed to do it earlier because you're daughter had to sleep early, it was not because you were a mother now that you had to neglect yourself, that will never happen! 

Once the thrall put the hot water in the bathtub you let your dress pull on the floor and sink beneath the water, you didn't really have any grime to take off, but the smell of what you cooked that seem to have stayed into your dress and stick on your skin. After rubbing your skin, you decided to stay a little bit longer as the water was still boiling. Your head falling back on the wooden edge and your eyes closed, hands started to rub your shoulders. As always, you assumed it was Hvitserk that sneak into your room, he was always so greedy when it comes to you, you ever wondered how on earth the gods only gave you one daughter... His huge callous palm went down your chest, meeting with your breasts that he took into his palms. He teased your two little buds that grew harder at each of his touches and pinched one of them, making you squeal, still, you didn't open your eyes, too impatient to feel him play with the body of yours. You breathe were sharp and heavy, your lips slightly open. His hands went down your belly, slowly and tenderly, it was as if he wanted to take his time with you, which started to make you go crazy. Seeing how patient you seemed despite your body screaming for more, he made his way down and pulled apart your folds with the tip of his fingers teasing your clit. Your moans started to fill the room, but his free hand came on your mouth to muffle them. You erotically suck on his middle finger as your back grew hollow, for he finally worked on your clit with his thumb. You let out a gasp when he abruptly inserts two of his fingers inside of you before standing still. He was letting you some time to breathe when your hips began to move on his fingers, he started to follow the move twirling inside of you and stroking your sweet spot again and again. You were about to release when he bites your neck and that was enough for you to clench around his fingers as your body was intensely shaking. "Fuck" You heard and your eyes snapped open. You leaped and you turned around and gasped at the sight of Ivar that look you within confusion. You were still a bit dizzy from the work he had done with your body but somehow succeed in getting out the bathtub and reach for a piece of fabric in which you wrapped your body. "What is it with you?" A frowning brows Ivar asked. "What are you doing here? Was that you the whole time?" He tilted his head closing his eyes for a second and exhaled loudly. "Have you expected someone else?" "My husband!" You shouted while throwing your hands in the air, you couldn't believe you didn't notice it wasn't Hvitserk. "You're... married?" "And I got a daughter. Yes." You say solemnly but without anger this time. "Who is the father?" He asked with disbelief, he wasn't looking at you at all; instead, he zoned out. "Hvitserk" You lift your eyes to where he was as he stood up. He looked at you with an eerie look, bringing shiver down your spine but not out of pleasure, it was more out of fear... "Hvitserk huh" Ivar repeated to himself as a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. You didn't want to arouse his anger, so you stayed silent, but then you thought what if my silent was the thing that will bring him to be snappy and you decided to open up to him "It wasn't an easy thing to swallow that you were lost in the sea. When your father came back without you, I felt abandoned, but I didn't show it, you know me!" You chuckled, and his eyes finally met yours. Your heart missed a beat and you harshly swallowed, "I am scared, right now. Because I don't see anything I used to see in your eyes before, and because I am mad at you for what just happened because I am married and I have a daughter, and I must tell Hvitserk about that but I should also tell him that I am again with a child" You began to swoon. "You're with a child?" "Yes" "I thought..." "I know Ivar, you don't need to say it. But as you mentioned, things have changed, and so I have" "Nothing changed for me, I hoped for that day for so long. It is the reason why I'm here, or else I would've let myself die on the ship during the storm" "Don't say that, I'm... glad to see you alive, you still have a place in here" You patted your chest where your heart was "It's just not as a lover" "Not as a lover" He repeated chuckling. "Do you love him?" "With all my heart" "What's the name of the girl?" "Ivar..." "Just answer me Y/N" "Frida" "This is what I wanted my girl to be named, rememb-" "Of course I remember, that's why Frida is called Frida" His lids fluttered. "I thought you reached Valhalla, I wanted to honor our bond" "By fucking my brother" "By calling my daughter with the name you wanted to call yours with" You gave him a smile as you get dressed. You were paying attention to where his eyes went, having to tell Hvitserk another man touched you was enough for tonight... 

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

I wanted to try something different, I'm sorry if it is crap... :/

Ivar TAGGED: @youbloodymadgenius​

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitty #ragnarsons #sigurd #king ragnar #aslaugh #ubbe #vikings #viking imagine #vikings imagine #vikings fandom #alex hogh #marco ilsoe #marco ilso #marco ilsø #alex hoegh #alex hogh andersen

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Dawn (2)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: sleep is nice. Water is super nice. music is dope nice. weather is siren-like nice. not being able to meet my dogs? not nice.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Is it really necessary to do this? All of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous.

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session. 

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!

Well, TOO LATE! you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

You didn't have to defend him like that.

You try to shove your inner voice away.

What do you even know about him?

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

What is Odin going to do to you now?

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

Perfect.

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

Oh, screw it.

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

Good for her , he wonders, taking his armour off, there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied.

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

Why did she defend me in front of Odin?

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues.

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

.

Why does he have so many greens and blacks?

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. Wait, is he colourblind?

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

Fuck!

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. What is he thinking? That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. Wasn't he supposed to be...frail? At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

You won a lottery, woman , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather? Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. You IDIOT!!

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

MOTHERF-

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"

#loki #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x ofc #loki smut #loki fluff #smut #fluff #marvel smut #marvel fluff #mcu smut #mcu fluff #marvel loki #loki god of mischief #loki series #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki feels #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction #Marvel MCU #MCU

[3rdgymbros]

𝓑𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Name: Rosamond Khan

Nicknames: None

Name meaning: Derived from the Germanic elements hros "horse" and mund "protection".

Gender: Female

Birthday: 20 February

Star Sign: Pisces

Height: 152 cm

Weight: 45 kg

Age: 16

Eye Colour: Green

Hair Colour: Black

Homeland: The Land of Flowers

Family: Mother, father

Quote: “They told me that I was not made for war; so now, I will have to find my own path.”

𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓡𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓮 𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓕𝓲𝓵𝓮

Dorm: Khan Zhao ( a fandorm created by @conquer-the-raven​ )

School Year: First

Class: 1-D, Student 12

Occupation: Student

Club: Horseback Riding Club

Best Subject: PE

𝓕𝓾𝓷 𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼

Inspired by: Khan from Mulan

Dominant hand: Right

Favourite Colours: Blue, green

Favourite Food: Fruits, vegetables

Least Favourite Food: Meat

Likes: Flowers, brewing tea, cold things on hot days and hot things on cold days, baths, early mornings, birdsong, comfortable silences, romance (movies and novels)

Dislikes: Loud noises (she startles easily when she hears them), butterflies, fireworks, sudden movements

Hobbies and Talents: Pressing flowers, baking, horse riding, hiking, camping, exploring, gardening, swimming, making flower crowns

Special Skills: Flower arranging, flower languages, running, archery, knife-throwing, hand to hand combat

𝓟𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼

Appearance: Rosamond has long black hair, parted to the left. Her hair is wavy, and falls to the small of her back. Parts of her hair are pulled back, away from her face, and are held back in place by a bright red hair ribbon. Her eyes are bright green, and she has a very slender physique, with a modest bust.

Style: She has a very formal and girlish style of dressing, and her clothes are normally in muted shades. Examples of her outfits can be found here and here.

Makeup: Very light eye makeup. Usually seen with red lip tint.

𝓥𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓼

Voice actress: Kudou Haruka

𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪

Personality: A serious and fussy girl, Rosamond rarely diverts from a stern expression. Far too serious for her own good, she often seems somewhat cold and intimidating because of her stoic nature, in which she displays a strict emotion most of the time. She tends to stubbornly deny liking or being fond of certain things, and also denies smiling or laughing, if she’s caught making such gestures. She also has a blunt side to her personality and can come across as cold or condescending.

Rosamond is fairly stiff and sharp, and is highly stubborn when trying to do what she believes is best for others. She is polite and very formal, and addresses upperclassmen as “senpai”, and her peers by their last names. She does not look kindly upon nicknames, but tolerates them when given by people she is close to. She is prone to making snide or rude remarks when annoyed and angered, or if she feels that people are not performing up to their standards.

She can be kind and caring as well, but doesn’t flaunt that side of her, nor does she draw attention to it. Kind acts are done by Rosamond in secret and usually without being asked, such as by turning on the lights when someone is reading, or setting a plate of fresh-cut fruits down for them after they’ve been studying for a while.

Alignment: Neutral Good

Strengths: Persistent, loyal, caring, reserved, self-reliant, independent, solemn, diligent, level-headed

Flaws: Haughty, prim, stubborn, overly-serious, feisty, prideful, distant, sharp-tongued, a perfectionist

𝓟𝓪𝓼𝓽

The Khan family have been soldiers and warriors guarding the Land of Flowers for generations, and to the Khan family, being called to serve is the highest honour. Rosamond was expected to follow in their footsteps as well, and she would train diligently, determined to make her family proud. However, no matter how hard she trained, she would never be able to meet the high standards and expectations imposed by her father, a fact which still pains her, as she wants nothing more than to be acknowledged by her family. Her inferiority and lack of self-confidence would further be emphasised when her magic developed, further proving that she was not made for war, as her father had told her, his words cruelly ringing out in her head.

Rosamond would later enroll in Night Raven College, and would be surprised, and a tad upset when the mirror placed her in Khan Zhao, as the atmosphere reminded her a little too much of home. At first, she is reluctant to interact with her dorm mates, and is even more reluctant to ask for their help, but slowly, after getting to know them, Rosamond tries to act more kindly to her dorm mates and tries to get to know them more.

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼

Rosamond’s magic is plant and flower-based and is suited more for support and recovery. Her current goal is training until she can master attack spells. She views her magic as being a source of shame to her family, and rarely uses it if she can avoid it.

Healing Cradle, Balm of Gilead: The user summons a plant called the balm of gilead, and uses them to form a spherical cradle around the user or another target. The user is able to generate multiple cradles to heal multiple people at once. However, each cradle can only contain a single person. One of the disadvantages of the spell is the requirement of the user or anyone to stay within the cradle for a period of time until the injuries are healed. During this time, they are defenceless against any attacks. The spell has been proven to be quite powerful as it can heal someone from dying of a critical injury in a short time.

Healing Shower of Apple Blossoms: The user grows a tree, and by standing under the falling blossoms, the user and the targets are able to be healed of their injuries. However, the spell takes a considerable amount of time to heal injuries and is unsuitable to be used for critical and life-threatening injuries.

Cherry Blossom Blizzard: The user generates a large amount of cherry blossoms that can obscure the vision of enemies on the battlefield.

Thorns of The Briar Rose: The user conjures vines with thorned roses, forming a barrier that can protect or confine people.

Unique Magic: The Dark Side of The Moon. Invoking her unique magic casts a shadow around the target, and whoever steps into the shadow will have their five senses (sight, taste, hearing, feeling and smell) cut off.

𝓣𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪

- Rosamond prefers tea to coffee, but has to add at least three cubes of sugar into her tea. She also enjoys drinking bubble tea, and frequently tries new flavours.

- She wears combat boots, and keeps knives tucked away in them, just in case.

- Rosamond has a pet dog, but had to leave him at home.

- Rosamond is a skilled rider, who loves to ride. Her riding is the one thing that her father could not find fault with.

- She wakes up at five every morning to train.

- Rosamond gets cold easily, and suffers most during winter. She rarely leaves the dorm without being bundled up in a heavy jacket.

- Although her best subject is PE, she maintains A grades in her other subjects as well.

- Her favourite fruits are apples.

- Her favourite dessert is tanghulu.

#twst oc #twst ocs #twstd oc #twstd ocs #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland ocs #twisted wonderland oc : rosamond khan #;; I REDID HER PROFILE #;; THIS TIME THE IMAGE IS DRAWN BY MEEEEEEE #;; ROSAMOND BB I HOPE I DID U JUSTICE !!

[aforrestofstuff]

I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

#one punch man #opm #asks #headcanon #opm headcanons #tatsumaki #silverfang #atomic samurai #child emperor #metal knight #king #drive knight #zombieman #superalloy darkshine #watchdog man #pig god #flashy flash #metal bat #garou #genos #saitama #tanktop master #fubuki #puri puri prisoner #amai mask #iaian #okamaitachi #bushidrill #mumen rider #speed of sound sonic

[7team7]

Choosing Fate: Chapter 6

A spark is lit — but where? // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

A/N: wow did not expect people to read the long ass authors note in the previous chapter let alone get so many reviews about it, thank you to everyone for your kind words and reassurance!! It means a lot and im very glad people are enjoying this story so far!! I read a tweet describing writing as often lonely and it’s very comforting to have people along for the ride :)

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Sakura quickly grew fond of Itachi and Izumi and made it a priority to visit them when she had a spare moment. At first, Sasuke let her go on her own if he was busy, but lately he had also been making it a point to accompany her. She just couldn’t figure that boy out, but she let him be. It was nice to have someone to walk with.

At first, she tiptoed around the subject of children and stuck with an exaggerated concern for their general health. She was the younger brother’s wife, what place did she have to speak of such things anyway?

But Izumi quickly soothed her nerves and made it clear that she valued Sakura’s opinion. She was open with her desire for children, as well as their struggle to conceive. Despite all this, Sakura still felt a little uncomfortable addressing the topic. She also thought the desire for children ran deeply through the Uchiha clan, like an indoctrination. Family seemed to be reduced to bloodline and it gave her chills.

She chose to speak in metaphors, using her background as a farmer’s daughter to carefully conceal the true weight of her words, “If you care for the soil, it will be generous in return. Fertility is…a fickle thing. You can’t force it. You must feed it properly, allow it to breathe. The earth is splendid, but the circumstances matter greatly. Patience is key, not everyone understands how long it takes to bear fruit. But all your hard work will make the reward so much sweeter.”

Izumi nodded slowly at this. “And you’ll help us with this?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Sakura beamed. Anything to feel like she knew her role in this strange clan, to feel needed, to feel useful.

She felt Sasuke’s gaze rest heavily on her while he sipped from his cup of tea.

.

Like any other morning, Sasuke was packing to go to the market when Sakura hesitantly approached him. “Ah, Sasuke?”

“Hm?”

“So..how about the market?”

“What about it?”

She wrung her hands, “Have you considered what I said before? Perhaps I could go to the market with you today? You know, to sell herbs. I’ve gathered quite a few bottles of dried stuff, I think it could fetch a fair price.”

Her husband grunted. He turned away from his bags to face her and pinch his nose, as if at war with his own thoughts. Was it so hard to tell her yes or no? she wondered.

Why did she challenge him so? he wondered.

He finally let out a sigh, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Put your things in here, I can carry it for you.” He opened his bag wider and gestured towards it.

“It’s fine, I can do it myself.”

“They’re not heavy, just add it to my bag.”

“But your bag is full of big, heavy, sharp things that could break my things. I’ll carry my things, you carry yours,” she said with a distinct air of finality.

He shook his head at her satisfied expression; why was she always right?

Even if his father objected to Sakura coming along, she could surely argue (or charm) her way through.

.

Sasuke instantly regretted bringing Sakura with them. There was something in the air that day, something he didn’t like. He couldn’t help but swing his head around in paranoia as they walked through the rows to find a spot.

Sakura didn’t seem to pick up on it, more excited about being back there than anything else. She had never bought from the Uchihas herself even if her parents probably had, so she was interested to see them in action. She greeted some of the regular vendors, it had really been a while and it was nice to see that even if her life had changed drastically, some things were always the same. She even stopped to ask a familiar fisherman how his family was doing when Sasuke came up behind her and lightly placed his hand on her back, “Sakura.”

“Oh, Sasuke. What is it?” The warmth of his hand felt like it was going to burn a hole through her clothing as he applied more pressure to guide her forward.

“Stay close to me.”

His tone was often serious, but the concern laced in his voice easily convinced her to bid goodbye to the fisherman and continue walking with Sasuke.

“Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer and only spoke again when they reached an open space to set up. “Here is good, right?” When Fugaku gave a nod of approval they started unpacking. Sakura noticed there were only a few pottery pieces in their selection that day, everything else was a weapon of some sort. Sakura shivered when some of the blades glinted in the sunlight; they really did look well-made — meaning they must be deadly.

Their first customer bought several things at once and the surprise must’ve been evident on their faces because he said gruffly, “Reports of bandits on the roads, crime and the like. Not taking any chances.” He nodded towards Sakura’s herbal offerings, “What’s this?” After hearing her explain some of their uses, he purchased a jar too. “Seriously, not taking any chances.”

What a strange interaction, Sakura thought as the man walked off. Sasuke caught her eye as if to say I told you so. If there really were bandits or something similar, then his intuition was correct. The atmosphere just didn’t seem right.

Several others seemed to have the same idea because more knives were bought up quickly. Just as Fugaku was about to comment on their luck that day, they heard shouting from the other side of the marketplace. It seemed like everyone in the area noticed at the same time, a swell of people looking up and quieting down.

“Don’t think you can get away with stealing!” a shrill voice, presumably a merchant, cried.

“Stealing? This shit belongs to me, everyone in Konoha is a thief. Look around, you can’t think you all just earned this? ” the other man taunted.

“Don’t you dare speak of Konoha like that! You need us far more than we would ever need you!” the merchant spat with distaste.

“Come over here and fight me if you’re so mad!” the man all but roared.

The sound of glass shattering, a scream.

Then all hell broke loose as multiple men started tussling with each other, almost at the same exact time.

Almost as if it was planned that way.

Their crude shouts and pained grunts could be heard all around as they kicked up dust in the melee. They were stationed far enough from the commotion that they weren’t in danger, but Sasuke’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Looking back on it, Sasuke realized there were clearly a high number of outsiders at the market, as noted by the differences in their clothing. Konoha was no stranger to visitors, but these agitators clearly weren’t there for a vacation.

Before the fight was even broken up, people came around and purchased more of their wares. The largest knives went first. As their selection thinned out, Sasuke decided it would be best to return home. “We’re leaving,” he said tersely, causing Sakura to tear her eyes away from the violence. For once, she decided to listen to him. “Yes,” she said breathily, helping to pack up as well. Fugaku nodded silently, but he was also distracted, uneasy.

The word on the street was that someone who had left Konoha after living there for many years was the one arguing with a merchant. No matter the situation, Sasuke didn’t like the feeling in the air, the feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach, one bit.

.

“Maybe I can go by myself sometime in the future. I doubt something like that will happen again now that everyone has been alerted.” Sakura tried to pretend like everything was normal, if not to soothe her own nerves, then to soothe Sasuke’s.

“I told you before, it’s not safe.” He couldn’t count on “something like that” not happening again. If anything, it put him on high alert.

“If you’re so worried about me, why don’t you teach me how to fend people off?” She was growing weary of this same argument.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Sasuke.”

“There’s no reason why I can’t accompany you for your own safety.”

“I really can take care of myself, you know.”

“I have no doubts about that. This is for my own peace of mind.” He went a little red at the admission, but it was true. Wasn’t that the role of the husband? To protect the wife? If he failed at that, he would never be able to forgive himself.

But he knew how much she valued her freedom by the way she didn’t give up on this. “Fine, you go everywhere with me. Still, shouldn’t I know something? Maybe I should carry one of those knives we sell?” Being completely reliant on her husband and father-in-law didn’t sit well with her.

“We need to be realistic,” he said as a way of evading the real issue.

“And we can’t live in fear forever. Believe me, I don’t want to think about it, but what if you aren’t there? We should prepare for anything and everything.” Rather than fighting him on this, she spoke softly in an attempt to appeal to the heart that he was revealing to her day by day. He truly seemed worried for her safety.

He contemplated for a while, a troubled look flashing across his fine features. “Sakura…” he finally started slowly, “what about using what you already know?” She wanted to roll her eyes, “I don’t know anything because you haven’t taught me anything.”  

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. If you can heal with all your herbs...wouldn’t you also be able to hurt someone just as easily?”

Fire danced in her eyes; it wasn’t pure Uchiha, it was distinctly Sakura, but it still burned bright.

.

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A/N: Rather plotty sorry but I’m not planning to introduce a lot of the characters who make naruto such a complicated story LOL mostly just ideas and consequences of war and colonization. And even the characters already included will take a back seat as ss start falling in love :P Konoha is the true evil of naruto fr fr and it pisses me off that sss fam has to go through so much for that shit hole so here we are. There will be tension bc think of it as Konoha Sucks but a village like the hidden sound is the one attacking. Again I’m a lazy writer/researcher lmfao so I won’t be getting into the specifics of fertility and real health stuff so reader’s choice, imagine what you please, haha I am no expert

#sasusaku #fan fic #my writing #arranged marriage au

[ancientwastedlores]

The Support System (Ch:2)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Thank you for the love on the first chapter! You can find the same on AO3, if you prefer that. Let me know if you like this and I’ll keep posting more :) Also, should I start a tag list for this? I’m still navigating this platform, and I see many fic writers having a tag list for their fics. Anyway, enjoy! 

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: N/A

Audience: general.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tony likes to hand out the agendas of the day to the Avengers personally. He jogs around the tower with a stack of papers, wearing his tracksuit and headphones, a habit Pepper encouraged, since he never actually leaves his lab to do anything physical.

He gently opens the door and places the sheet on a table placed right next to the door. That table is specifically for the agendas. You once threw your keys on it and Tony passive aggressively made a point of picking up your keys and placing them on the floor to place his sheet.

You’re still in bed with Loki, who is facing away from you and snoring lightly. Tony opens the door to place the sheet and notices two heads instead of one in your bed. He moves closer to see Loki, widens his eyes, and promptly runs out.

‘What?’ Nat asks, running past Tony, then stopping. ‘Loki!’ ‘In her room!?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘I…’ Nat is trying to peer in through the crack Tony left open. ‘Are you sure!?’ ‘Do YOU want to look?’ ‘No!’ Nat nearly shouts.

Tony shuts the door. ‘I’ll talk to her about it later’.

‘Good, I’m not going to’ Nat says, then places her headphones back and continues running.

xx

Around 8 AM, after Loki has left your room, you change into your field uniform and walk to the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers, including Loki, are in there, and the cook is making bacon and eggs.

‘Hi Samantha’ you greet the cook. She smiles back at you. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and Tony grabs your arm, making you nearly spill the coffee.

‘Hey man!’ you yell. ‘Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with Loki’ Tony hisses. ‘What… no! I’m not, let go of my arm!’ Tony lets go. ‘I saw him in your bed’. ‘Yeah, we just had a heart to heart about our past and fell asleep, it’s no big deal’. He narrows his eyes at you. ‘You confided in Loki about your past?’ ‘Well, him more than me’. ‘Uhuh’.

You raise an eyebrow at Tony. ‘It’s fine’ you assure him. He doesn’t believe you, which is clear in his face, but walks back to the dining table.

You grab a plate for yourself and get some fruit, eggs and bread. You take your seat at the table and join in on the conversation everyone’s having.

xx

‘Right’ you announce, walking into the lab with Bruce and Tony. ‘TODAY is the day we speak to Harry’. ‘Harry?’ Tony asks. ‘Yeah. The Reality Gem’. ‘You named the Reality Gem “Harry”?’ Bruce asks. ‘Yes. You know, the redheaded prince of England. And the Reality gem is Red’ you grin, proud of your name. They roll their eyes but laugh, and go to their respective workstations.

Doctor Strange had found a way to speak to the Time Stone, and provided everything he could for you to be able to do the same with the Reality stone. He had done everything save for actually coming down the lab, which he couldn’t because he had to be at the Sanctum Sanctorum. But you had gone through every single paper he sent, every theory you talked over, and every idea you shared. After a while, it was clear that the code to cracking all the stones wasn’t the same, and so you’d have to start from scratch for every stone.

Frustrating as it was, you did love a challenge.

‘Maybe we should just build a body around it like we did for Vision and let it literally speak to us’ you say, frustrated, a few hours later. 

‘We did consider that. We even have the technology for it, but we can’t have six people walking around with stones in their heads’ Tony says.

‘Oh, is THAT the problem?’ you chuckle. ‘Not the insane amount of power and resources it would take, not to mention how the costs outweigh the benefits’.

‘She’s right, it took Thor to open the cradle last time’. Bruce says. ‘And if we give the stones a body, it could do anything’.

‘At least the stones restrict movement’ you say.

‘I don’t think the lack of a body would stop the stones’ Tony says. ‘Besides. Strange got his to talk while it still sits in that necklace, so I’m sure we can work it out. Did you read through the papers he sent?’

‘I did’ you say. ‘Twice over, made some notes if you’d like to see’ you project the contents of your laptop onto a hologram before Tony. ‘We’ve tried it the few ways Strange suggested, but what he actually did is very particular to the Time Stone’.

‘Series of time loops and manipulations in the mirror dimension’ Tony reads. ‘We can’t do that, of course, we don’t even know how to use it’.

‘Can’t we take the reality stone into the mirror dimension?’ Bruce asks.

‘What then?’ you ask. ‘It was purely an accident that Stephen even managed to speak to the stone. He managed to reverse and study his actions somehow to write a paper’.

‘So we’re stuck in the lab, then’ Tony sighs, and turns to walk to his table.

‘Unless you just want to take it to the mirror dimension and just mess around with it’ you say, half-joking.

Tony stops in his tracks. He promptly turns back to face you. You see the look on his face and push the hologram aside. ‘Tony, you know I love a mystery, but I wouldn’t advice getting stuck in the mirror dimension with an Infinity Stone unless you REALLY know what you’re doing’.

‘Strange did it’ he scoffs. ‘Strange knows what he’s doing’ you say. ‘Are you saying Strange is smarter than I am!?’ Tony demands.

Oh dear.

‘I’m saying he knows more about this’ you walk back to your computer and pull up another paper he sent you and project it to a hologram. ‘Read that’ you highlight a line using your fingers. ‘The mirror dimension is linked to the dark dimension, playing around with an Infinity Stone without understanding how to use it could not only trap you in the mirror dimension, it could draw you into the dark dimension’ you swipe the hologram away. ‘And I hate to bring this up, but after New York, this should be the last thing you throw yourself into’.

Tony sighs. ‘You’re right, kid’.

You close the holograms and walk back to your desk. Tony’s still standing in the same spot though. You sit down and pull yourself close to the desk.

‘You’re smart’ Tony declares.

You smile at him.

‘So I can’t understand why the hell you’d spend the night with Loki’. ‘You did what?’ Bruce shouted. You glare at Tony. ‘THANKS’. ‘YOU SLEPT WITH LOKI!?’ Bruce’s voice is unnaturally high pitched. ‘I did no such thing, we were talking and fell asleep!’ you defend yourself. ‘Can we get back to the stones’. ‘Just…’ Tony leans over your table. ‘Promise me you won’t let this be a thing, he’s dangerous’. ‘Hey, I can take care of myself. And he’s more like you than you think’. ‘I take offense to that’ Tony says, without actually sounding or looking offended. ‘You don’t like being compared to a God?’ you ask teasingly.

Tony smirks. ‘You got me. I’m going back to work’ he finally turns away to sit at his desk. The three of you continue working.

xx

At last. The training room. You walk into the roomy glass cage that has an arsenal of knives, swords, spears, guns, and other alien weaponry lining the wall. You feel at home.

‘What we feeling like today?’ Natasha’s voice comes up behind you. ‘I’m feeling the katanas’ you say, your hands running over the colourful handles of the katanas.

Nat takes a pair for herself, and you take yours. ‘Hand to hand first’ Nat says. As is usual. You place the katanas in the harness strapped to your back and take your fighting stance.

Nat goes to punch you and you block it. Her other hand comes to chop at your neck, which you also manage to block by holding her wrist, then flipping her over so she lands on her back.

‘At least give me a challenge’ you tease. ‘Just getting your ego up so I can bring it crashing down’ she smiles, as she gets up. You know she’s not lying. ‘You’re terribly mean’ you say. You take your fighting stance once again.

Two hours later, after your session with Natasha ends, you place the Katanas back on the wall. ‘Can I take these on the extraction mission?’

‘You can take anything you want. Just don’t take too much, we don’t want to be weighed down’. ‘Right’ you look at the katanas. They really are gorgeous. ‘Where did we get these?’ ‘They used to be Lady Sif’s. She left them with S. H. I. E. L. D, and S. H. I. E. L. D gave it to Tony’.

You touch the handles again, which has some Norse story etched on it in gold and red tones. ‘They’re beautiful’.

‘They are’ Natasha agrees, unhooking her harness and placing it on the wall as well. ‘Do you know the story?’

You nod. You’ve grown up reading stories of Greek and Norse myths. ‘This scene is Odin stealing poetry from the Giants and flying back to Asgard with it’ you point at something in the handle. ‘That’s earth. As Odin was flying over Earth, some of the poetry spilled here, which is how we have the art form’.

You stare at the handle a while longer.

‘Do you have a thing going on with Loki?’ Natasha asks. ‘What! No! How many people has Tony told?’ ‘Just me. I happened to pass by when he left your agenda’. ‘Bruce knows too’. ‘Bruce!? Why?’ ‘Cuz Tony can’t shut up’ you say. ‘Does it bother you?’ ‘Him not shutting up or people knowing about it?’ ‘The second one’. ‘I don’t really care’ you shrug, knowing that it was inevitable, ‘But I know how silly rumours can affect people, so I wish people would stop spinning it like that for Loki’s sake’. ‘Right’ she nods, understanding. ‘I’ll make sure no one else knows’. ‘Thanks Nat’ you smile at her. ‘I have to shower and go back to the lab. Bye!’

‘Bye!’

xx

‘We’ve made progress!’ Tony yells at you as you walk back in.

‘That’s excellent!’ you know Tony is absolutely dying to tell you what he uncovered, but you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling you immediately for outing your little sleepover to Bruce. ‘But you should eat first’.

‘Yeah yeah, listen to this, so Bruce said…’ ‘No, I literally meant eat first, talk later’.

Tony looks like you’ve just slapped him. ‘It’ll take a second’.

‘I won’t hear it until you’ve had something to eat’ you unwrap the falafels and shawarmas you got from the food truck downstairs.

He glares at you, grabs a falafel, takes the smallest bite and sets it back down again. ‘Now…’

‘Actually, I could eat too’ Bruce walks over to grab himself a shawarma, and proceeds to open the wrapper very, very slowly.

You grin at Tony. Understanding that there really is no way you will listen, he sits down to eat a proper meal.

After throwing away the wrappers, he comes and sits down next to you. ‘Bruce said it would be so funny if we got Vision to talk to it like it’s his cousin, and I got an idea’.

‘Okay?’ ‘They’re family!’ ‘Ohana’ you say, still chewing and looking at him with dead seriousness.

Tony glares at you again, the occasional eating noises from Bruce making you internally lose it.

‘As I was saying, we don’t have to use the same Time Stone method, but we don’t have to completely abandon it either’. ‘But they do vastly different things from each other, we even tried all the…’ ‘Yes, but you haven’t tried combinations’ he runs to your laptop. ‘I was going through your notes; look at what you’ve written here’.

You read it: "So basically it’s like those old rotary phones. Strange ran the dial to 6, then 4, then 9, then 1, until it dialled a number and made a call."

 ‘I was really sleepy when I wrote that’ you say. ‘We can’t crack the stone, we have to learn to first use it, then connect with it’. ‘We’ve been over this, Tony, none of us know how…’ ‘No, I won’t do it’.

You were fully ready to shoot Tony down, but damn, he decides to be reasonable!?

‘I was thinking we can just put Vision in the mirror dimension and ask him to use it in a combination of ways. See what clicks. I mean if anyone would know, it would be Vision, right? Maybe if there’s a way to speak to him while he is IN the mirror dimension, we can remotely control it’  

‘I’ll have to ask Strange first’. ‘DO THAT’ Tony screams and Bruce jumps. ‘LET ME EAT MAN!’ he yells back.

You chuckle. ‘So… I'll email Strange then, shall I?’ ‘Yes. And kid?’

You roll your eyes but smile at the endearment. ‘Yes?’

‘You did good. I couldn’t have done it without you’.

You take the laptop from Tony’s hands and sit down to write the email to Strange.

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