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free-pool-trash · 4 years

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of pick up lines and garden flowers - peter maximoff

requests: Hello! I'm a big fan of basically all your Peter Maximoff x Reader stories and was wondering if you could write one where both of them got sucked into Westview and reader's "role" is a florist and Peter's in love with her or something? Bonus points if they were already together before getting trapped in the town and every time they meet, reader gets a flashback of when they were together? That would be pretty awesome to read :D

hey bestie ✨ i love this idea it’s super cute <3 thank you for sending it in i hope you enjoy <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated

word count: 1.1K (it’s short but i quite like it)

warnings: peter being dorky, really fluffy

masterlist

The sound of the bell above your door chiming alerted you that you had a customer. You smiled softly, not turning around, continuing to fix the arrangement of flowers in front of you.

“Back again?” You teased, already knowing who the visitor was without having to turn around. He came in at the same time every single day.

Once you finished adjusting the lilies on the shelf, you spun around to face the silver haired man who leaned against your cash counter casually, “Thought you needed your daily dose of vitamin P.”

“Dear god. That’s the worst one yet, truly, you’ve outdone yourself.” You cackled, busying yourself with filling out orders to avoid catching his trademark cheesy grin.

It had become a routine. He’d stroll into your shop and hit you with his best terrible pick up line and you’d send him away with a single flower.

“You smile wider the worse they are.” He informed, his dimples on full display as his grin had turned into a wide, loving smile.

If you hadn’t known better you would’ve sworn that you’ve seen that adoring smile of his before. Yeah, you’d seen it almost everyday this week but even from the very first day he’d stumbled into your shop and accidentally knocked over a vase of freshly organised hydrangeas he was familiar- he felt familiar.

Riding that train of thought you let out a soft “Oh”, as you remembered the flower you’d chosen to send him away with today. It wasn’t anything too special to the naked eye but whenever you looked at it you were hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia, the feeling was similar to the one you got when you’d lock eyes with the man who stood before you now, and so you figured why not put two good things together?

Quickly you pulled the flower out of the vase behind the cash counter where you were keeping it and presented it to Peter with a bright smile, “Tah-dah!”

Peter stared at the flower for a second, before his eyes moved up to your face. Truthfully, Peter didn’t really care about flowers, but he did however care about you and for whatever reason he couldn’t seem to keep himself from coming back to you time and time again.

He took the flower from you gently, making sure his fingers lingered against yours while you passed him the stem, he admired the steady blush that began rising on your cheeks at the contact.

“Why’d you pick a daisy?” He asked, twirling the green stem between his fingers and for a brief second, as you watched him grinning and messing with the taller than average garden flower, it was as if the fog had cleared completely.

The night was hot, you were laying in the garden simply listening to the crickets and allowing the cool breeze to sweep over you as you twirled a small daisy that you’d plucked from the grass between your fingers.

“Psst. Y/n!” Peter’s whisper startled you from your relaxation and you turned your head to look at him.

“Mhm?” Peter plopped himself down beside you, dropping his head onto your lap and letting out a content sigh as he did.

You sat up on the grass, careful not to move his head too much, you began to play with it softly as he began to speak, “Are you a magician?” He asked, looking up at your face seriously as if the question he just posed was the most important question he’d ever ask you.

Before you could even really process his question, a huge grin made its way across his lips, “Because when I’m with you everybody else disappears.”

“We’re the only people here, my love.” You reminded him through a giggle, “But counter question- Are you a parking ticket?” Peter scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you, completely unimpressed by your line’s set up.

“Why? Cuz I’ve got “fine” written all over me? Lame.” He complained rolling his eyes.

Lightly you flicked his nose, “No, I was gonna say it’s because you’re a huge inconvenience.” His gasp caused you to bark out a laugh, pleased with his outraged response.

Within a second Peter tackled you back into the grass, his fingers running up and down your sides, relentlessly. Loving the way your laughter came out in howls, the way they always did when he tickled you. Your eyes watered as he refused to let up until you were begging through squeals of laughter for him to stop. When he finally ceased his attack on your ribs, he let out a chuckle of his own and rolled off of your body, lying on the grass beside you instead.

It took you a second to catch your breath again, eventually when you managed to even out your breathing you turned your head to look at Peter, who was already looking at you. His gaze almost made you lose your breath again. His brown eyes twinkled and his skin was illuminated weakly by the moon that shone full above you, perfectly highlighting the dips in his dimpled cheeks as he smiled softly yet widely. You knew what that look was, he was in love, and conveniently; so were you.

“Truce?” You whispered, holding out the little daisy you had plucked from the grass earlier and offering it to Peter, whose smile never dimmed as he nodded in agreement.

You shimmied closer, pressed a small kiss to his nose before tucking the flower behind his ear. The image of him so in love with a daisy poking out from behind his ear was the purest, sweetest thing you’d ever seen and it caused your smile to nearly split your cheeks.

“You look perfect right now.” You voiced your thoughts quietly as to not disturb the moment.

Wordlessly, he placed his hands on your hips and tugged you into him so that your chest was flush against his. He kissed you softly, his lips moved meaningfully with yours, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss before he pulled away reluctantly.

He rested his forehead on yours and let the words he was thinking slip from his lips, his smile back and wider than it had been before your lips connected, “You’re perfect all the time.”

Peter watched in concern as you seemed to zone out for a second, a thoughtful look on your face. It only lasted a few seconds, though.

As quickly as it had gone, the fog returned and the memory slipped away as if it were never there to begin with, leaving only a feeling of warmth behind. With a gentle shake of your head, you zoned back in on Peter.

His heart skipped a beat at the smile that stretched across your lips. It was dazzling, no that wasn’t it, it was perfect.

He watched mesmerised as you shrugged your shoulders and spoke through a grin, “Not sure. It just reminded me of you… for some reason.”

Maybe, you’d been right to say you’d known him before. There was something so vividly sentimental to you about the boy that had you convinced that; yes, perhaps you had been met with his adoring smile before- in another life.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagine #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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So for your modern shifter au does Ciri ever make an appearance? And would she be a shifter too? Like a little lion cub who at first us mistaken for a cat. And how would the others acquire her? Would she find them or they find her?

The shifter AU is one that I have been wanting to come back to for a while, especially for this prompt with Ciri. As it happens, I was talking to @ohnomybreadsticks who is the best enabler and source of inspiration. Thanks to this video (which is absolutely Lambert) we now have Ciri and reminiscing of when the wolves were pups.

Baby’s First Roar

Rumours of an unusually large house cat in the area were not something the wolves were really bothered about. They lived in a secure and safe area thanks to Jaskier’s success which meant people with money around them. And people with money did idiotic things like have exotic or unusual pets like hairless cats and extreme sized dogs. So one large house cat wasn’t a worry. What was an issue was when animal control was called in. It seemed the cat didn’t belong to anyone and, if Jaskier was out and about as a fennec fox, he was in danger. The only sensible thing to do was not to let animal control handle it but to have a patrol to find and chase the cat out of the area.

They had a rota in place, one wolf snuggled up to Jaskier, another slept on the doormat by the front door while a third took the garden door. It left the fourth free to patrol the neighbourhood to track the stray cat.

There was no smell of cat that Lambert could find and he sulked the whole of the next day, pouting that he was going to be outdone by one of the others. Not that Eskel had more luck, he said he caught an unusual scent on the wind, one he couldn’t identify but tracking it was a whole other problem because it just vanished by some bins. On the third night, Vesemir went out. He made a beeline for the bins and hid behind one of the carts. If his pups couldn’t track the mystery cat, it meant it was no ordinary animal. To evade Lambert and Eskel meant it was intelligent. Therefore hunting it down wasn’t going to work. But it the trail led to the bins, it might be back.

Sure enough, in half an hour, Vesemir’s nose picked up a musky scent. Approaching the bins was a large cat with even bigger paws. It was no cat. Vesemir rose to stare down a lion cub. He had to hand it to the cub, its hackles rose and a warbling rumble of a growl vibrated through it.

Shifting, Vesemir held up his hands. “I mean you no harm.”

The cub sat down with a surprised blink, looking up at him. From one moment to the next a dirty young girl was sat in the cub’s place. She stared at Vesemir then looked at the bins.

“This is my find. Get your own bins.”

Really, Vesemir couldn’t not soften at that, she reminded him too much of his own pups.

“Or I could go and eat something from my fridge. So could you if you want.”

Shrewd eyes stared at him. “Whose are you?”

“I’m my own. But my pack runs with Jaskier.” That name seemed to at least spark a bit of recognition in the girl’s eyes. “I’m off for a midnight snack. Join me if you want.”

With that, Vesemir turned around and headed home in wolf form. The smell of the cub followed him and he felt quite smug.

As Eskel had been out the night before, he got prime spot next to Jaskier that night, leaving Geralt by the backdoor and Lambert by the front. With a bit of a shove, Vesemir opened the door, pushing his youngest pup out of the way. It earned him a snarling growl as Lambert responded while still half asleep. As soon as he realised it was Vesemir, he quieted down to a grumble that passed for an apology.

Sauntering in, Vesemir waited for the cub to come in. After a brief nose bump with Lambert, she swiped at the wolf in warning and Lambert leapt back with a startled whine. Really, Vesemir had to laugh at them. From over his shoulder, he heard the soft pad of paws and watched as the cub and his white wolf stared at each other.

What was intended to be a quick snack turned into a feast as they raided the fridge. Only Vesemir took his human form, the others too wary of each other to shift. It was kind of adorable to watch though, obviously the little lion was a young cub and Geralt nosed the best snacks towards her. Even Lambert kept his snatching to a minimal and reserved it for Geralt alone. The one time he eyed up the end of a sausage, the cub growled at him and, remembering the swipe, Lambert allowed the bests bit of the sausage to be gobbled up by her.

Tummy full, warm and in a seemingly safe place, the cub swayed as she began falling asleep while sitting up. She was herded to the sofa by careful wolves and left to sleep.

Come morning, Jaskier walked in on an unexpected scene in the hallway. Geralt was curled up by the front door as before. But he had a lion cub pressed against him.

“Well then,” Jaskier declared and looked at Lambert who had a new scratch on his cheek. “We have a guest.”

Ciri, it turned out, had escaped when shifter trophy hunters attacked her home. She had no one to turn to, couldn’t trust anyone. All she knew was that Jaskier was a famous and respected shifter who lived with other shifters so the world near him was probably safe.

There were no questions, the wolves were already protective of Ciri and, given that she had nowhere to go, she could stay with them at least until the authorities found survivors from her family. And if they didn’t....they’d all been there, when the world didn’t want them. Their family had room for a cub.

“You’re going to need to protect yourself,” Vesemir said. “And your best defense is to scare enemy off most of the time. So, lets hear you roar.”

Ciri shifted and looked up at Vesemir. Her nose scrunched up into a teeth baring growl. Jaw opening, a croaking yowl burst from her throat rather than a fierce roar. Lambert fell onto his backside laughing.

The chagrined and embarrassed look Ciri gave him had Eskel suppressing his on smile. “It’s not like he was any better with his first howl. More like a rasping yapping mess.”

“True,” Geralt chipped in, Jaskier curled up on his lap in fox form. “He was hopeless. Remember him in Vesemir’s arms?”

Pouting, Lambert crossed his arms and looked away. He had a better idea and shifted, throwing his head back and letting out a full howl. It was a bad idea because Eskel joined him, deep and long, nose pointed up. Jaskier ended up on the floor when Geralt shifted too and howled.

“They show off now,” Vesemir said to Ciri, “but you didn’t see them as pups. Eskel could whine with his mouth open before croaking up.” At the mention, Eskel tucked his nose under his tail as he curled up into a ball. “And Geralt, well, he had his head up so high, he toppled onto his back.”

Suitably embarrassed, Geralt whined and turned to Jaskier for comfort. However, he was ignored in favour of Jaskier holding his head high and chuffing out a few proud screams.

Sighing, Vesemir shook his head. “We have plenty of time to practice. Maybe when this lot don’t feel like showing off.”

Who was he kidding though? That was never a potential outcome. Ciri had a steep learning curve ahead of her but Vesemir suspected she would fit in just fine.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #vesemir #eskel #witcher wolf pack #shifter au #tldr: there's a new cub in town

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

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Meet The Furys

Characters: Erik Stevens x black!reader, Nicky Fury x daughter!reader

Summary: Its time for your dad to meet your boyfriend.

Warnings: None

A/N: Based off this imagine. After almost a year its finally here! I hope you all enjoy it.

“Okay, remember to play nice. My dad can be intense.” You warned Erik before ringing the doorbell.

“As long as he ain’t on some fuck shit.” Erik was already not too fond of the work your father did.

“Erik!”

“Aight, I’ll be nice.” He changed the tune of his story when he saw the crazy look in your eyes.

The front door opened and revealed Tony Stark. “What are you doing here?” You asked shoving the cake in his hands.

“Nice to see you too, kid.” He kissed the top of your head. Despite your love-hate relationship, Tony was like a big brother to you. Actually, all the avengers were like older siblings to you.

“Stevens.”

“Stark.”

Erik and Tony greeted each other. Neither one liked the other. You believed it was because there was no room big enough to hold both of their egos.

“Please you two, no arguing today. I got enough to worry about.” You continued to venture into the house.

“Erik, my man!” Sam came up and clapped Erik’s hand and gave him a one arm hug. “What you been up to?”

Tony leaned into you and asked, “Why doesn’t he greet me like that?”

You rolled your eyes and turned over your hand. “You know why.”

“Shit, nothing. I’m just out here trying to survive.” Erik ended the clap with a snap. He hit Sam in the middle in the chest. “I see you hitting them weights. You out here trying to get swole?”

“Nah, man I’m trying to get like you.”

“Trust me you don’t wanna be like him.” You interrupted the nigga-fest before it went too far.

“She’s always hating.” Erik whispered to Sam. “I’ll get at you later.”

Erik followed you throughout the house. The two of you constantly stopping to greet everyone. Eventually, you made it outside to see your dad at the pit.

“Hey Daddy!” As you reached up to kiss his cheek, you had to restrain yourself from hitting Erik when you heard him mumble, “I’m the only one she calls daddy.”

Nick put the spatula down and hugged his baby girl. “How is it possible you get more beautiful every time I see you?”

“I get it from my daddy.” You boosted his ego. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.” You tugged on Erik’s hand to bring him next to you. “Daddy this is Erik, Erik this is Nick Fury.”

Erik stuck out his hand to shake your dad’s. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Nick looked at the young man’s hand for some time. Before everything went down in Wakanda, Nick heard of Erik or better yet Killmonger. He wanted to bring him into SHIELD, but decided he was too volatile and stubborn for the organization. Now that same man is dating his baby girl. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

“Hmmph.” Nick looked Erik up and down before shaking his hand. “You treating my daughter right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m the one you should be checking on.” Erik rubbed up and down on the bicep you hit him on earlier. “She’s always hitting me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. You always testing me.” You bucked at him.

Erik was about to mush your head, but he remembered his surroundings and that he was supposed to be making a good impression. “See, you got a little thug over there.”

“She ain’t the thug I see.” You knew your dad would be snarky when he met Erik, but you didn’t think he would be going this hard this early.

You saw Sam behind Erik, cracking some joke with Bucky. Quickly, you motioned for him to come get Erik. “E, you wanna go grab a drink and dig into that cake before anyone else can?”

Erik looked to you if it was okay for him to leave. Even though he was already itching to leave he didn’t want to piss you off.

“Yeah, go.” You waved him off. “Me and Daddy need to have a talk.”

With your go ahead, Erik took off. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold his tongue.

Once Erik was out of earshot, you poked your dad in the shoulder and got on his ass. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Nick played dumb as he flipped the burgers.

You flicked your dad’s ear and quickly got out of arm’s reach. “That elitist nigga bullshit you just pulled by calling Erik a thug.”

Nick gave you the full Fury glare that was usually reserved for Tony. He pointed the spatula at you. “You got that one free lick. You don’t get anymore.” Closing the pit, your dad came next to you. “And the last thing I wanna be is one of those siddity niggas. I just…I just expected you with someone different that’s all.

“Elitist bullshit.” You mocked him by singing.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was a little elitist. I’ll be better, I promise.”

If you consider better as not talking to one another then better happened. The barbecue was tense due to the obvious animosity between your dad and boyfriend. No matter how hard you, Sam, Bruce, and Steve tried to ease the tension, somehow your dad and Erik found a way to throw off-hand comments. And Tony was no help because he liked to add fuel to the fire.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when Sam complimented Erik’s hair and your dad mumbled, “I don’t know why you young niggas think that’s a good look.”

Erik’s smile before he said anything told you everything you needed to know, and you knew there was no way to stop it. “I’m sorry that your receding hairline made you cut your hair. But hey, you rock that Samuel L. Jackson look.”

“What’s wrong with Sam L? That man got style.” Nick looked at Erik incredulously. He choose the wrong one today. “And while we on the subject of hair. Son, if you can’t grow a full beard then at least have the sense to cut that shit off.”

You almost spat your drink out. Erik’s been using some oils to grow his beard completely and it was working so well, you thought it was full. Leave it to your dad to find the last patch.

“At least I’m not dressed like Shaft. Nigga it’s 85 degrees right now, why you got on that hot ass leather duster for? Ole Little Bill lookin ass with an eyepatch.” Erik refused to be outdone by this old head.

They continued to trade jabs. It was like watching a tennis match when neither player could score. Each jab was hitting its mark. If this wasn’t your dad and Erik, then you would be cracking up like everyone else.

You needed to stop their bickering before it got too far. Out of the two, your dad would be the easiest to stop. “Daddy!” You called out to him, trying to redirect his attention.

“What?!” Both Erik and your dad turned to you. When you saw your dad’s face processing that Erik answered as well, you knew right then and there you would have to kill Erik. You’ll just tell T’Challa and Shuri that he died in a horrible car crash. It would be believable, because that nigga doesn’t know what a speed limit is.

Sam slid out of his chair in silent laughter, Tony spat out his drink and was howling in laughter, Steve’s face flushed red in embarrassment for you, Bucky looked like he wanted to congratulate Erik, Wanda and Nat offered you sympathetic smiles, and Peter was confused to why everyone was in a state of shock.

That shit-eating grin was wiped off Erik’s face when he looked at you. Was it possible to plan your own funeral, he thought.

“Y/N, why did he answer you?” Nick asked his lovely daughter. He knew his daughter was grown and she was most likely doing grown people activities, but that didn’t mean he needed to be blatantly reminded of it.

“Cause I’m her daddy, nigga!” Erik was done playing nice. Nick Fury needed to know he was serious about you and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Tony wiped tears from his eyes. “This keeps getting better and better.” Nat kicked the leg from under his chair causing him to fall.

‘Thank you’ you mouthed to her. Tony obnoxious ass was next on your hit list after Erik.

Standing up, Nick pointed between him and Erik. “Me and you about to have a little talk.”

You tried to follow them inside the house, but your dad stopped you. He said they needed to have a talk man to man.

The longer they were away, the more you worried. For sure, you thought you would hear yelling. Neither one of them were afraid to get loud. Maybe one of em killed the other, you thought. Nah couldn’t be, neither one would go quietly.

Suddenly, your dad’s laughter was wafting through the air and that didn’t happen too often. Rounding the corner was a happy Erik and your dad, laughing with each other like they just weren’t at each other’s necks.

“What is this?” You asked surprised that they weren’t arguing.

Erik came to your side and kissed your temple. “Me and your pops came to an understanding.”

“And that is?”

“None of your business.” Your dad told you, leaving you speechless. Wow, did your dad and Erik have secrets now?

You asked Erik the same question and got the same answer. Erik was your best bet to tell you their secret, so you pinched him to get him to spill the beans.

In less than five seconds you felt a flick to your ear. “Keep your hands off that boy. I forgot how mean your little ass can be.”

You grabbed your ear and looked at your dad in awe. “What the hell is this?! Y’all friends all of a sudden?” You had to be in the twilight zone, because now your dad was defending Erik.

Both men turned to you and simultaneously repeated, “None of your business.” You decided to give up for the moment. You would have to divide and conquer to get any info.

The rest of dinner went really well considering where it started. Instead of roasting each other, Erik and your dad ganged up on Tony and it was your turn to laugh at his pain and suffering.

At the end of the night, it was only you, your dad, and Erik left. On your way out, Erik promised your dad he would come to his poker night and that they could hustle Tony out of some money. These niggas were really best friends now.

Finally, in the car you could try to pry some information out of Erik. Your dad would never tell you what they talked about. He was the king of secrets.

“What?” Erik’s lip slightly curled up when he felt you staring at him.

“What did you and my dad talk about earlier?” You pinched his arm. “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”

Erik slid his eyes at you when he came to the stop sign. “Imma handle that ass when we get home.”

“Promises, promises.”

Erik shook his head at you. He contemplated telling you the truth and decided to give you an abridged version, because he knew your ass wouldn’t stop bugging him until you got something. “All you need to know is that we both have your best interest and love you. Anything else you wanna know, you gotta ask your pops.” Taking the hand that was intertwined with his, Erik kissed the back of your wrist.

That answer would have to do for now. Just like Erik said you could get the rest from your dad with a lot of begging and honestly, Erik might tell you more, because either way you looked at it you were daddy’s little girl and neither one of them would want to disappoint you.

Tagging:@lostennyc @chaneajoyyy @vikkidc @ginghampearlsnsweettea @honeyflii @youwishiwasyobabymama @just-juicee @quietpoeticheart @soufcakmistress @twistedcharismaaa @marvelmaree @thickemadame @titty-teetee

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feirceangel · 4 years

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Imagine | Skinwalker pt. 1 (Lost Boys)

Pt. 2

Imagine being a skin-walker (an immortal who can transform into an animal, in this case a large wolf like dog) and being taken in by the guys.

Word Count: 1609

You've been living alone for quite some time now, always on the move. Never staying still for too long in case someone discovers your secret.

Skin-walkers are rare; only a few have ever come into existence since the beginning of time. You're one of them, wise and ancient beyond your appearance.

Anyone who saw you in your human form would assume your age to be around the twenties, and they would be terribly wrong.

Being immortal can be lonely, though, especially for a skin-walker of your kind. Dogs are loyal and loving, craving affection just as they crave food.

That's why it's hard when you find someone to love, and they are taken from you in only a few decades.

Fed up with the pain, you've been living solo for years, out in the wilderness where no one can find you.

You've missed civilization, though, so one day you decide to go back.

Nighttime on the boardwalk in Santa Carla. The perfect time to be out and about, discovering awesome things to do.

People, each individual as different as the sands of the earth, wander around, listening to the live concert, and enjoying the sights and activities available.

The Lost Boys, as they are called by the locals, arrive at the boardwalk on their motorbikes. Paul and Marko laugh and jostle each other as David smokes and Dwayne observes the crowd with a smile.

The vampires are accustomed to the night scene of the city. People dancing and yelling and doing everything else imaginable as the boys look on, sometime joining in.

Tonight, something feels different. The air sparks with more electricity and the stars shine a bit brighter, although no one except Dwayne really pays attention.

A loud howl cuts through the air, trying its best to break through the many noises of Santa Carla. It succeeds in gaining the attention of the four vampires.

"You hear that?" Marko asks excitedly. He was sometimes easily entertained with the seemingly smallest things.

Paul grins, "Yeah, dude. It sounded like a wolf or something."

"A wolf around Santa Carla? That's never happened before."

"It's probably just a mutt," David drawls, taking a drag from his cigarette. "But let's go check it out anyways."

He drops the cig and crushes it under his heel before mounting his bike. The others follow suit and soon they are racing towards the forest where the howl came from.

Another howl sounds, more sorrowful than the last. They slow as they approach the source, looking around warily with excited grins plastered on some of their faces.

In the centre of a small foggy clearing, sits a marvellous creature. As large as a wolf, although some of its features varied from the traditional wolf, sits a dog, whose h/c coat gleams in the starlight.

Its e/c eyes stare soulfully at them as they come to stand in front of it.

"See, told you it was a mutt," David states, clearing unimpressed. The dog flattens it's ears at the remark before shaking its head pointedly.

"Look, it's tied up!" Marko says, noticing the heavy chain wrapped around its neck.

"C'mon dude, help," Paul moves closer towards the animal, who doesn't move a muscle, it's eyes trained on Dwayne.

The curly blond cautiously approaches alongside Paul, helping him take the chain from around its neck.

"Shh, it's alright," he pauses. He doesn't know the sex of the creature, so he glances down. "Girl," he adds, nodding to himself.

Marko tosses the chain aside before petting the dog, grinning wide at the soft feeling of her fur in his fingers. Paul joins and pets the dog as well.

The dog's foot thumps rapidly as they ruffle her fur in a loving manner, getting that sweet spot on her neck.

"Can we keep her, David? Please?" Paul begs, looking up with a large grin.

David rolls his eyes, "Seriously? We don't need a stray."

"Max has one," Marko argues, making puppy eyes at the group's secondary leader.

"Max has a hellhound, not some runaway mongrel," David shoots back.

"I say we vote on it," Paul declares, scratching the dog's chin before standing with his arms crossed.

Marko nods but sits down beside the dog with a happy smile as the dog licks his cheek affectionately.

"I vote we keep her!" Marko chirps.

Paul states his agreement.

They turn to Dwayne pointedly and so does the dog, her head tilted questioningly.

He sighs and smiles, "Let's keep her."

David scoffs, but shrugs in defeat, "Fine, but I ain't dealing with it."

Marko and Paul let out yips of joy as the dog lets out a happy howl. The dog leaps up and goes to Dwayne, pressing her head against his hand. He pats her with a soft smile.

Back at the cave, David is seated on his old wheelchair, Paul on the broken fountain, Dwayne by his stereo, and Marko on the floor next to you.

You had followed the boys to their home, instantly liking it. There was a couch and a bed, and other things that you haven't seen for a long time. A bond had formed instantly between you and three of the boys, although David was more opposed to your presence.

"I guess we better name you, huh?" Marko says happily.

You whine and nod as David rolls his eyes. "It can't understand you, Mark. It's an animal."

Shaking your head, you paw at Marko as he stops rubbing circles through your fur. He continues the motion, making you smile in appreciation.

You know they're vampires. How could you not notice the otherworldly scent coming from them. You've met vampires before, although none as nice as these.

Vampires can read minds, or, at least, most minds. Yours is impenetrable when you so desire. And, right now, you want your mind all to yourself.

The whole chained-up-in-the-forest act was precisely that: an act. You put yourself in that position and cried out for help, determined to find someone worthy to befriend.

And, these four vamps heard your pleas and helped you.

"How about 'Girly'?" Marko suggests.

You growl and shake your head, baring your teeth.

He laughs, "Okay, something more badass then."

"What about 'Princess'?" Paul offers before inhaling some suspicious smoke from his joint.

Another loud disapproving growl sounds from your throat.

He chuckles.

David sneers, "How about 'Bitch'?"

You turn your e/c orbs towards him, glaring at him. He's unfazed, so you stand, ignoring Marko's protests, and stalk towards the platinum blond.

He raises his eyebrows and stares you down. You sit directly in front of him, staring right back at him.

A moment of silence.

"This dog is freaky."

Nods from all of the boys.

"That's why she's perfect for us!" Paul exclaims.

You look back to Marko, silently telling him to continue searching for a name.

He seems to get it as he hums thoughtfully. "'Biscuit'?"

Nope.

He sighs, "I'm out of ideas."

Dwayne speaks up, the first time in awhile that he has done so, "Venus."

He says it like he knows it fits and that you'd like it.

You yip with approval, wagging your tail.

He smiles knowingly.

"Aww, why'd she like your suggestion?" Marko complains, tossing a pillow at the dark haired boy. He snatches it from the air with a smirk.

You get up and stretch before heading onto the bed behind the curtain. They each watch you, curious as to what you're gonna do.

Scratching at the covers, you bury yourself in them, away from prying eyes. A cracking noise fills the cave as your bones rearrange and your body shifts.

It's been a long time since you've been in your human form, but you love the fresh feeling. Carefully wrapping the blanket around your naked form, you peek out from behind the curtains.

Everyone looks at you, slack jawed. Paul then glances at the joint in his hand in disbelief. "Are you guys seeing it too?"

"Yeah, dude," Marko breathes out in awe. "Venus is a woman. A hot woman."

Dwayne smiles, "Skin-walker."

"What's that?" Marko asks, confused.

"It's a being who can change form," David says, grinning. Apparently, he likes this fascinating turn of events.

"Woah."

You step out completely, still covered by the blanket, "If you're quite done talking about me like I'm not here, would one of you be so kind as to lend me some clothes?"

Marko leaps up, ready to fetch one of his crop-tops. He knows you'd look stunning in his clothes.

Before he has the chance, Dwayne tosses you a large loose shirt. He doesn't really wear his shirts anyways, so he won't miss it.

Marko pouts, but watches dumbly as you drop the blanket without thinking and tug the shirt over your head, letting it slip onto your body.

Paul whistles and David keeps smirking.

"What is your true name?" Dwayne questions, eyes boring into yours.

"I was called Y/n L/n on the day of my birth, although I've had many since. The newest being Venus."

David addresses you, "Why are you here?"

You smile shyly, "I was lonely, so I found a family."

"Family?" David echoes.

"I like her," Paul announces, "I like you."

The smile on your face grows wide as he hugs you.

"Hey! I like her too!" Marko exclaims, not about to be outdone.

You open your arms, inviting him into the hug. He eagerly accepts, and you embrace the two blonds.

Dwayne smiles again and, surprisingly, joins in. David watches from his seat, a grin on his face.

"Welcome to the family."

#the lost boys #80s movies #xreader #reader insert #female reader #skinwalker #shapeshifter #david #marko #paul #dwayne #polyamarous

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skymoonandstardust · 4 years

Text

Love and Light in Hell

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4

Chapter 5:

"They should be here by now. Why aren't they here?"

One of the noblemen stood and bowed at your words.

"We do not know, your majesty, but give it time. This silence from Asgard may be a good thing."

Before you could open your mouth to speak, a court lady rose indignantly to her feet

"Just because we haven't heard anything, that doesn't mean no attack is coming. It could be closing in on us as we speak, sitting here like lambs waiting to be slaughtered! I say we gather our forces and bring the fight to them!”

Instantly everyone in the hall rose to their feet as cries of protestation and support clashed with each other, creating an incomprehensible roar of voices trying to shout over each other.

Lifting one finger you signaled to Grimir, who was laying by your throne.

Your sign had him on his feet and losing a howl so piercing all noise in the hall immediately stopped.

Everyone but you was in a defensive state. Some had merely covered their ears, eyes scrunched up in pain while others lay curled on the floor with their arms around their head. A few had turned to look in surprise at the source of the noise, only to flinch and cower back, scrambling to hide.

Grimir's howl slowly faded out after a moment and he lay down again, licking his lips and resting his head on the floor to go back to his nap.

Once you were sure the uproar died down, you smiled and stood.

It was almost like the aftereffects of a bomb.

At first everyone stayed frozen, as though doubting or not realizing that it was really over. Then, the first one dared to peek out and get to their feet. Slowly, one by one in small groups, the rest gradually stood as well, looking embarrassed and chagrined.

"Thank you, for your input, but I will not have troops sent out to potentially start a needless war. If Asgard attacks, so be it. We will fight back. But only when it is clear that is their intention."

With a few murmurs and grudging looks, they all bowed and conceded.

"As you say your majesty. It may be a Midgardian cliche, but your wish is truly our command."

You smiled ignoring the barbed words.

"Indeed it is, Carlsson. We will wait till Asgard declares its intentions-- and until then, I expect you all to give me your unwavering loyalty and to see you all at tonight's feast."

Noticing some smiles in the crowd and the new happy tone to the mummers in the room you guessed your last words had had the effect you hoped.

The one thing to take their minds off of this would be drinking, dancing and revelry.

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have a bit of a harder time dressing up for this affair than all of you will so I need to go begin getting ready now. I'll see you all there.”

Some chuckles followed you as you rose and exited the room.

Walking alone to your chamber you finally let the doubts and worries and what ifs to seize you for a bit.

What if they do attack us to get this precious prince back? They're scared of me and this place, but they might risk it on his account. . .and the army might be mobilized too late.

You sighed barely audibly as your gaze passed over an image of a serpent encircling the world. . .

Don't be so down. Maybe they'll just send someone to smuggle him out or try to negotiate. They can't want a war anymore than you do. Loki's plan will fail.

Your half convincing thoughts were interrupted by your chamber door being thrown open in the distance.

Already fingering famine you continued forward cautiously, waiting for anything to happen, even entertaining the impossible.

How much do you want to bet it's Loki bringing more good news and fatherly love?

It's a good thing you didn't really make that bet with anyone because you would have lost as you found out a second later when your lady in waiting’s face peered out from around the door.

"What are you doing dawdling? You're late! And we need every second to get you ready in time--hurry up!"

You rolled your eyes but relaxed and let your hand leave famine's hilt.

"I said move your royal behind!"

You did as she said and sped up, basically running through the door a second before it closed.

"Outdone yourself once again, my friend. It's exquisite.."

That was the only way you could think of to describe it as you examined the sheer corset top adorned with it's beautiful patterns of black lace roses. Giving in to the urge, you spun, watching the plain black petticoat like skirt flare out and feeling the decorative tulle cape fluttering behind you, unencumbered by the small black beads adorning it.

As you came to a stop you were grateful for the strip of lace that kept it in place. Though it had been hard to get on (it was one piece so it had to be lifted and put on over your head), it did the job and without it, the garment would certainly have ended up on the floor just then.

I don't even want to think about how I get this thing off. . .but it is pretty. Just have to remember not to do any running.

Turning, you smiled at your lady in waiting.

"Come, let's be on our way before the ball starts without us."

You knew they wouldn't dare to, for fear of facing a short headless existence, but you set off anyway, leading the way as your routine trailed behind.

Of course you needed to make a big entrance.

The doors opened with a loud boom, making everyone in the room leap before chuckling nervously and embarrassedly, turning to face the empty entrance.

You allowed a smile to flicker on your lips as the crowd turned, just in time to see the two wolves come through the door. They stalked the edge of the crowd, snapping occasionally and growling. You had to stifle a laugh every time some foolish courtier jumped when they got too close or made a playful lunge at someone.

Right as you planned, a gust of cold wind brought in a light but continual dusting of snow. All those nobles in their finery started to shiver, but didn't dare complain as a loud caw rang out and your raven flew forward.

Gracefully, Alistair and Archibald soared across the room to land on the arms of the empty waiting throne.

You noticed that as the birds took flight the mass bowed as one and stayed bent until their landing. None of them even dared to look up, but of course not. The raven was the sacred animal of the Allfather, and what's more, these ones belonged to you. They would not dare anger you--or him by showing any less than proper respect to the animals.

Finally, your music struck up and you walked forward through the gently whorling snow, Grimir by your side.

Unlike the wolves he did not snap or snarl, but walked on, eyes fixed ahead, paying no attention to the crowd. The crowd, of course, paid attention to the two of you.

Just as they had raised their heads and gotten to their feet you entered, forcing the nobles to quickly lower their faces once more and stoop onto hasty bows. Following Grimir's lead, you kept your gaze on your throne and did not look at a single courtier until you had taken your place at the table at the head of the room.

Once in front of your seat you paused, leaning foward slightly with your hands resting on the table.

"I suppose I do not need to introduce tonight's guest. I’m sure you all know why we’re all here here. I suppose you have all heard and know by now, so I only say, let us give him a warm hearty welcome. From this day hell will be filled with light and joy because of his presence.”

You nodded and waved as you sat down, acknowledging the applause and cheers that met your words.

The doors opened once the noise died away, and you felt like all the breath had been stolen from your lungs. It had nothing to do with the blast of chill air that entered the room and everything to do with the boy standing in the doorway, glowing brighter than anything you'd ever seen.

His light had been overwhelming even in the infirmary. But this? . . .this was. Incredible. He looked incredible.

The impeccably tailored suit fit his frame perfectly, giving a hint at the toned muscles underneath. The silky black material and gold filigree of the jacket complemented his hair and made his eyes pop. Those gorgeous azure eyes were without doubt his most prominent feature. They were what you remembered most about him from your first glimpse of them those eons ago, other than the general impression of overwhelming beauty.

If it had been so then, it was even more so now, in this dark room among the grotesque and dead.

Harrison was shining like always, seeming to light the entire room all by himself.

Was there even light in here before he arrived??

You found all breath had left you as Harrison took his first step toward your table. Like the rest of those in attendance, your eyes fixed on him and didn't waver, tracking his every movement until, seemingly suddenly, he was standing before you.

The eyes were boring into your soul and now every little detail was visible. This was closer than you had ever been in the infirmary and though you would have sworn you had no heart, you almost felt it stop. You might not have quite needed air, but your breath hitched silently in your throat as you glanced him up and down.

Oh great Norns. . .

There in the hall, his back straight as a rod with all the eyes in the room on him, and literally glowing he looked more kingly than he ever had. All that was missing was a crown.

He doesn't need one, though.

Your nobles certainly seemed to think so as they all bowed and paid respect to him in the background.

Really, you should have been upset at that. You should have made some kind of example to assert your authority and show him and everyone in the room to whom their allegiance and respect and loyalty should really go to. . .but, somehow, the thought didn't really tempt you at all.

He is the son of the ruler of the universe, I suppose. The would-be king.

Harrison nodded to you in respect, then he did something totally unexpected.

You'd explained to him before that the nod was all that was required of him, and then he could take his seat beside you and you would start the feast. However, instead of edging around the table and sitting in the chair, Harrison reached out and gently took your hand.

Spellbound, you watched it as it gradually rose through the air and met his lips. The stillness in the room that had sprung up as soon as you entered deepened.

You couldn't blame them, you were shocked too. The whole thing felt distant and disconnected, as though you were watching it happen to someone else far away or you in another life long ago. If not for the ghost of his lips tingling on the back of your hand as you brought it back to the table you would have believed you dreamed it all.

Harrison rounded the table, all the courtiers in the room still watching him. That was good, because it meant that they all missed you sitting there stunned and shellshocked for a moment.

Thankfully, you got your face under control by the time Harrison sat down.

As half the room turned to you again, you were once more sitting tall, frigid, and imposing.

"Let the feast begin!"

Your words rang through the hall and were immediately followed by a cacophony of clapping and cheering. The staff took their cue and started bringing the food in at that moment, setting down a seemingly never ending parade of food and placing some at each of the tables.

You were pouring mead into Harrison's tankard after piling a large helping of venison into your plate when the hall's great doors crashed open.

@madmadmilk @hollandroos @hazmyheart @marvellous-holland @queenofmotherfuckingterrasen @aidiastyles @hey-its-grey @mysmileyspideyboi @pascalispedro @a-sea-of-fandoms @scarlettsoldier @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @scarlettsoldier @fangirl-who-dreams @esoltis280 @theresnofandomforthis @cassiopeia-barrow @dragonangel-funandfire @iaiabear @coffeeismylife28 @katiegoddessofmischief

LLH taglist: @the-crazy-fanfictionist @spideygirl2003 @allegra-writes @rebekkah4766 @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @petersoftboyparker @fanficparker

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #Harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfeild x reader #haz osterfield blurb #haz osterfield #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #you x tom holland

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autobot-scout-riella · 4 years

Text

Solstice Storm

(A Christmas gift for @fire-fxrged and @sancti-luminis, featuring Gale and Grindor holiday fluff, because while Riella may not ship it, I sure do. Merry Christmas, guys!)

*****

Snow falls softly over Cybertron's northern slopes, blanketing dark ground in an ever-thickening layer of glittering white. The sun has yet to fully set, but the sky to the east is already dark, heavy with the kind of low cloud cover that warns of an oncoming winter storm, and the wind has begun to pick up, tossing the snowflakes into swirls of white. It's going to be a bitterly frozen night, pitch-dark and colder than anywhere else on the planet; it's one of the nights that guarantee that no one will take up permanent residence in this sector.

No one, that is, except for one of very few mechs who could comfortably survive it - and one of the other reasons, conscious or unconscious, that many Cybertronians avoid this sector.

Grindor's den is warm, despite the weather outside, due to the fire roaring in the hearth at the center of the huge room. In case the fire isn't enough, nearby surfaces are piled high with furs, making the den seem almost cozy despite its size. In honor of the longest night of the Cybertronian year, there's an entire draindeer roasting on a spit over the fire, and an array of other foods laid out on the massive table. Cooking may not be Grindor's day job - his life is nothing like conventional - but he takes pride in his skills all the same, and tonight he has provided the perfect spread for a post-Solstice feast.

Now, if only his guest would arrive. It isn't like Galeforce to be late, and Grindor is beginning to wonder.

Not worry. That would be an overreaction. Galeforce is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

But Grindor is wondering.

The deer is almost done roasting, filling the den with delicious smells. Outside, the wind picks up, and a few flakes of snow find their way into the den entrance. Grindor turns a glare in their direction, although the den is warm enough that the snowflakes have already melted into tiny droplets. If no one has arrived within the next few minutes, the Herald may have to go out looking, and that will be unpleasant for anyone who has delayed his guest's arrival.

But the next gust of wind brings with it a shimmer of brilliant silver and a flash of wings, and Galeforce strides in, brushing snow off his shoulders. "Forgive me. The weather was...uncooperative."

"I was about to come looking for you. The sun is almost down, and the Longest Night is not a good time to be out in the wild." Gale's plating is ice cold and laced with frost, Grindor notes with some displeasure as he places an arm around his lover and draws him in for a deep, passionate kiss. If someone has delayed Gale, keeping him out in the cold, Grindor will have words with them. The Herald has his own inner furnace to keep him warm; Galeforce does not.

Gale hums and allows himself to be pulled into the warm den and into Grindor's embrace, where - Grindor thinks - he fits quite nicely and should stay for some time. He smells of rich incense and ever so slightly of smoke, perhaps from the warming fires at the Temple. (At least, Grindor assumes they have those, though he will never go near that place to confirm it.) "You worry too much," Gale murmurs, a smile hovering around his lips.

That is something Grindor has rarely, if ever, been accused of, and it draws a wry smile as he pulls Gale close and keeps an arm around his shoulders. His own plating is more than warm enough to make up the difference for both of them. "Can you blame me, under the circumstances? But you're here now, and not a moment too soon. Come, the deer is almost done."

"You have outdone yourself. This is remarkable," Gale says admiringly, glancing over the table. Grindor preens shamelessly. He has done an impressive job, if he does say so himself, with foods that range from the traditional to the unusual - everything from mashed potatoes in varying shades to grilled scallops and a few carefully prepared cobalt crabs. Gale enjoys seafood, and Grindor made sure to take that into account when making his preparations. It is a lovely spread, and will be an excellent feast.

Though he has seen more beautiful things spread on that table, he thinks, glancing at Gale's shimmering form with a sly smile and a purr.

As if reading his mind, Gale nudges him fondly in the side. "Later," he murmurs, a single word layered with enticing promise to match the flicker of interest in his close-held EM field. "For now...your feast?"

"Of course." Grindor rumbles with pleasure and matches that flicker of interest with a flare of his own, keeping a proprietary arm around Gale's shoulders as he guides him toward the table. "I can only imagine that your Temple does not celebrate the Longest Night in quite the same way."

"Not quite," Gale agrees, leaning against Grindor's shoulder with a satisfied hum. Grindor suspects that that is Gale's quiet way of saying that he prefers to celebrate with Grindor, but chooses not to press the topic. It’s a sensible assumption, after all, and Grindor cannot imagine a temple celebration that would compare. What better way is there to celebrate the longest night of the year than with food, and a lover, and activities that remind everyone involved that they have lived to see another dawn?

(No, Grindor does not need a holiday as an excuse for such activities - he engages whenever he and Gale both wish it. But their time together is limited, and if he has a reason to celebrate in such a manner, he will take it. And really, with such a lover, who wouldn’t?)

"Come, let us eat. Perhaps you can tell me of your Temple's customs later."

They most likely will not discuss it. There are many things that divide Scions and Heralds, and it is best not to focus on those differences when they are together. But that does not exempt Grindor from occasional curiosity, especially when holidays arise.

Of course, given that it is quite hard to focus on anything other than Galeforce when the Scion is present, Grindor rarely has trouble keeping his mind off their different worlds, and tonight is no exception. There is no reason to focus on their differences, when there are so many similarities to enjoy.

Outside, the wind howls as the winter storm threatened by the earlier clouds arrives in earnest, and the snowdrifts begin to build up. Grindor banks up the fire, ensuring that the den will stay warm no matter what happens outdoors, and returns his full attention to his lover and the feast. In this weather, no one will be foolish enough to consider troubling them.

(Of course, it is very rare these days that anyone is foolish enough to trouble the Herald - but tonight, it would be even less wise than usual.)

Gale twines his hand in Grindor's and draws him toward the table. Grindor rumbles, satisfied, and follows. No matter what kind of storm rages outside, or how high the snow drifts, he has everything he needs right here in his den, and no need to leave it until the Longest Night is over and the sun rises once again.

A feast, a fire, and an immortal lover. What more could anyone ask for?

#fire fxrged #sancti luminis #mun writes fic

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writingvultures · 4 years

Text

Balloon

By the time noon hits the Founder’s day Festival is in full swing. The air is filled with the peals of laughter and squeals of children as they run through the village in their colorful cloaks, throwing handfuls of pink, yellow and orange confetti. The scent of baked goods is thick in the air mixing with the faint smell of sea salt as people feast upon cakes, pies, cookies, and candy. The village was a sea of colors as ribbons flew in the wind attached to various light posts, and banners looped from building to building.

Both Apple and Mooshy have broken away to work there receptive cake and pie stalls, while leaving Creep and Vulture to slowly walk around the village, avoiding the main thoroughfare. The two women are joined by Murmur, an Enderman that’s the only mob on the island and Vulture’s partner. The three of them are dressed in the typical wear of the Founders day festival. Vulture has traded out her usual dusky pink coat out for a pale golden cloak, over her pink hoodie Creep wears a dark orange cloak, and Murmur sports a red cloak, their favorite color.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this year Creep.” Vulture praises as she looks up at the banners hanging above them. They are hung up high enough that Murmur doesn’t have to duck under them or worry about getting tangled in them.

Creeps flushes a faint blue-green color as she scratches her cheek, “Ah well you know, have to go bigger and better every year.” Thankfully Creep wasn’t the only one making decorations for the festival but she did make up a large proportion of them. “Plus it’s not like I can take all the credit, plenty of others helped.”

The two of them stop to wait for Murmur, who’s lagged behind a bit as a gaggle of children offer them gifts. Vulture reaches over and lets her fingers trail over a banner that’s wrapped around a pole, “That’s true, and I don’t want to discredit any of their hard work. I recognize this as Ash’s work.” She’s gentle not to snag any of the tangled knots in the weaving with her talons. “He’s gotten better wouldn't you say?”

“Yeah.” Creep can tell that there are slight improvements but to many besides Vulture and herself, she was sure no one could see the differences, but they were talking about the work of a 10 year old boy.

Murmur joins them, their head now adorned with a flower crown composed of ribbon made tulips, poppies, and roses, and ruby pendant around their neck. They make a small chirp of happiness as they look at the ruby pendant. “It’s lovely.” Vulture says to them as she waves at the children, who smile and wave back before scampering off.

Before she turns back around, Vulture see’s something that catches her eye. In a passing group she eyes a tall male. She doesn’t recognize the blonde hair or the freckled face but she does recognize the casual yet predatory and measured gait, the slight inquisitive swivel to his head, and the eye searingly bright green cloak is a dead give away. It’s the Strange man, without his mask. It’s been a little over a week since he walked into her home, and the bright green green isn’t very inconspicuous. There are no other greens like it on the island.

Like it happens in slow motion he’s head turns to look at her and suddenly she’s looking into green eyes. His lips curl into a smile that's far too impish to be friendly, and has Vulture grinding her teeth together.

The loud sound of dogs barking and a poorly imitated howl that sounds more like a cow's moo snaps her out of her little staring contest with the Strange man. “I think Mooshy is about to start her dog parade.” Creep says as Vulture turns back to her and Murmur.

The Strange man not completely forgotten but stored away for a later date, Vulture makes a quickend move to start towards the main thoughtfair “Which means her racing around the village.” Vulture knows Mooshy and all the dogs mean well but knows they can get a bit out of hand when they’re riled up, and knowing how big Vultur’s dogs are, she wants to make sure no one gets trampled by mistake.

#Dsmp #dsmp ocs #dsmp oc #dream smp #dreamwastaken

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deliciousscaloppine · 4 years

Note

oh, qinghe harem please!

ONE MORE FRESH CHAPTER from QINGHE HAREM STORIES. No prompts in this one, but the next 2 chapters are prompt based.

In the world of fashion to achieve greatness, some sacrifice must be made...literally? Meng Yao and Huaisang go in search of fashion in the most unlikely place of them all. Cue Xue Yang.

Meng Yao lit a lantern and led the way, deep underground. It was cold and wet in the dungeons, and there were a great deal of spiders and centipedes crawling on the walls. They had been placed there by the previous patriarch of the Qinghe Nie for atmosphere.

“Why are we here, Meng Yao?” Huaisang shivered, clutching his fan. “If this is about the time I called you delusional, I take it back.”

“Look, are you or are you not in need of new attire?” Meng Yao snapped.

“I fail to see how we are going to procure a high fashion item in the dungeons, Meng Yao.”

Meng Yao smirked. “You'll find out soon enough.”

Descending to the final level of the prison, Meng Yao took him to the very end of the farthest corridor. Huaisang approached questioningly.

“There is no one here.” He almost remarked, when a loud clang rattled the bars of a cell. The dark outline of a silhouette peeled off from the general even darker darkness. A ghoulishly handsome face with a fangy grin came into the scant light of Meng Yao's lamp.

Huaisang skitted backwards only a tiny bit afraid. His renewed shivering was purely for atmosphere.

“Who is this?” He asked Meng Yao, behind his fan.

“A friend of mine, I am putting him up for the night.”

“If you are putting him up why is he in jail and not in any of the nice guest rooms upstairs?”

“Because he steals.” Meng Yao sighed.

“Hey! You over there, come here.” Xue Yang gestured.

Meng Yao nodded encouragingly. Huaisang approached, lifting his skirts a little so as to not dirty them in the murky puddles that littered this part of the fortress.

“That's so unsanitary. Dage should be informed about it.”

“Yeah, that's it, come closer” Xue Yang crooned. “I am not going to bite you.”

“He will absolutely bite you. Don't put your nose anywhere near him.”

Xue Yang put his hands on his waist and glared. “Man, you are absolutely no fun.”

“The little one is with me.” Meng Yao said, also approaching. “You know what we are down here for. One item of high fashion at the pre-arranged price.”

“This is a dangerous job, I am not going to do it for candy.”

Meng Yao pulled out of his sleeve a handful of candies, in a bright strawberry wrapper. “Not even for these? Brach's Strawberry Bon Bons?”

“Shit, fuck man...” Xue Yang said slamming the bars. “Were you holding out on me before?”

“You just do this one thing for us, and I'll set you up for life.”

Xue Yang stared them hard, then a smile quirked on his lips.

“No.” he said finally, and leered in Huaisang's direction. “I need something more substantial.”

Huaisang shivered again, and this time it was not for atmosphere.

“I am afraid, you will have to give him the most precious thing you have, Huaisang.” Meng Yao said.

“You wouldn't mean my painted scroll with the herons on a background of gold?” Huaisang said.

“No, I am afraid not.”

“Then my imported first illustrated edition of Genji Monogatari?”

“No, not that either.”

“Phew, good, I was not ready to part with it. Surely you can't mean my paper fan with original calligraphy by Huai Su”

“Come on, sweetlips” Xue Yang said looking around him impatiently. “Are you really going to make me say it. I know you are not as innocent as you want us to think.”

Huaisang looked down, sweat breaking on his skin.

“I want it. And you are going to give it to me.” Xue Yang breathed.

“Me-Me-Meng Yao, what did you bargain with this man?” Huaisang asked, a feeling of nausea unsettling his stomach.

Meng Yao's face was hard. Harder than anything Huaisang had ever seen. He must have known, he must have planned this beforehand. Huaisang felt utterly trapped.

“It's just a silly little pornbook.” Meng Yao said. “The garment Xue Yang is going to bring you is by far more valuable.”

“It's not just a silly pornbook. It's the first copy of the first edition, signed by the publisher and the illustrator with a personal dedication to me. You know I can't part with Rare Beauties Volume I. I just can't!”

“Oh, I guess then that you won't mind that Jiang Cheng will soon be the best-dressed man in Qinghe. You remember Qinghe? The place of your birth? The stronghold of your ancestors? You are already too weak to compete against him in cultivation, so you are giving up territory in which you are good at, just because it's slightly inconvenient to you? To achieve greatness, Huaisang, some sacrifice must be made!”

“Alright.” Huaisang said in a small voice. He was trembling and not because it was cold. With shaking hands he reached for the little parcel, kept always by his heart.

Xue Yang clicked his tongue. “I knew it! I knew you always kept it on yourself. That's why I could never find it!” he howled.

Huaisang wiped away a single tear and slipped the booklet between the bars. “You must promise me something.” he said. “You must never take it out of its original wrapper or it will lose its value.”

Xue Yang stared at him in disbelief. “You think I am going to risk my skin for a book and never read it?”

With one swift motion he tore the delicate tissue paper that covered the supple, silk cover of the book, and flipped rudely through its pages; wetting his thumb now and then with his sharp, fiendish tongue. Huaisang dared not think about where that tongue had priorly been.

“Nooooooooo!” he howled and fell in Meng Yao's arms. “How could you do this to me!” he cried. “You betrayed me! You took that which I loved most.”

Meng Yao's face distorted into a cruel, pained mask. “You grew up having everything! You never knew what it is to want!”

“Uhm, can you two give me some privacy. Rare beauties is now mine, and I would like to make the most of our time together.” Xue Yang said sitting down on his bench and unbuttoning his pants. “Come back in a couple of hours, so I can take your measurements.”

Huaisang and Meng Yao yelped and made to leave.

“I can't believe you pressured me into giving Rare Beauties to that ruffian!” Huaisang raged for three full days. “I only hope for your sake that he brings the prettiest dress in all the land. ”

A few nights later, Xue Yang finally appeared, holding what would be an utterly incospicuous parcel had it not been for some conspicuous red stain on it. He was also wearing cat ears for some reason.

“Ew, what is that!” Huaisang remarked.

Meng Yao quickly undid the string that held together the parcel, but he too hesitated to open it.

“Xue Yang.” he menacingly said. “He is supposed to be able to wear it. If it's an animal carcass, I swear-”

Xue Yang crunched grandma candy from the bowl Meng Yao had offered him and scoffed. “Hah!” he said. “If he was a true lover of fashion he could pull off appearing only in an animal carcass. But don't worry, it's waspy enough.”

Meng Yao pulled out an entirely white frock.

“It's white!” Huaisang remarked. “I have a million white frocks! Xue Yang-” he growled.

“Give it a twirl.” Xue Yang said crossing his arms.

Meng Yao passed the frock to him. Huaisang was quite upset, be he obliginly gave it a “twirl” in front of the mirror.

The plain, white brocade sparkled under his fingertips, blowing up in a pearly-gold iridescence that revealed hidden patterns of flowers, skulls, snakes and birds in black and white.

Huaisang fell down in shock. “That's wild!” He said clutching the most beautiful dress he had ever seen in his life. It was so him! And it was perfect. If he sat at the right angle, his Dage would not suspect a thing. It looked entirely like any other frock Huaisang owned, but when one turned, the patterns were revealed in shimmering, sparkling color. It was so bold, so exciting, so original!

“Am I the best, or am I the best?” Xue Yang boasted.

Meng Yao slow-clapped. “Well done, you've outdone yourself, Xue Yang.”

#qinghe harem stories #nie huaisang #xue yang #meng yao

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heartpascal · 1 year

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THE WORLD IS BRIGHTER

"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins—but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars."

- MATTHEW STOVER, ROTS NOVEL

(r)

• youth by daughter

"my eyes are damp from the words you left,

ringing in my head, when you broke my chest,

and if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,

'cause most of us are bitter over someone,

setting fire to our insides for fun,

to distract our hearts from ever missing them,

but i'm forever missing him."

• home by catie turner

"feelings were fleeting, but now i'm surrounded,

visions of you shaved into the side of my head,

and as i sleep on the other side of the country,

i wonder how it feels to be safe in the palm of your hand,

and i just want to go home."

• broken by anson seabra

"if you see the boy i used to be,

could you tell him that i'd like to find him?

and if you see the shell that's left of me,

could you spare him a little kindness?"

"am i broken? am i flawed?

do i deserve a shred of worth,

or am i just another fake,

fucked up lost cause?

and am i human? or am i something else?

'cause i'm so scared and there's no one there,

to save me from the nightmare,

that i call myself."

• runaway by aurora

"i was painting a picture,

the picture was a painting of you,

and for a moment i thought you were here,

but then again, it wasn't true, dah,

and all this time i have been lyin',

oh, lyin' in secret to myself,

i've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf."

• overwhelmed by royal & and the serpent

"i get overwhelmed so easily,

my anxiety keeps me silent,

when i try to speak,

what's come over me?

feels like i'm somebody else,

i get overwhelmed."

(joel to r)

• leave a light on by tom walker

"and i know you're down and out now, but i need you to be brave,

hiding from the truth ain't gonna make this all okay,

i see your pain."

• it'll be alright by cody francis

"oh, my child i know,

you're hurt and you can't let go,

it's not your fault and you don't deserve,

all the bad and the hurt."

• half light by banners

"it makes me feel nervous,

you have that look in your eye,

oh, what takes over?

what is it that holds you tight?"

"when you're in the half light,

it is not you i see,

and you live a half life,

you only show half to me."

(joel & r)

• daylight by david kushner

"two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer,

souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt,

(oooh),

there's darkness in the distance,

from the way that i've been livin',

but i know i can't resist it,

oh, i love it and i hate it at the same time,

you and i drink the poison from the same vine."

HOWL I LOVE YOU!!!! your song recs are actually my favourite things EVER. i can’t even express how much i love these. so so amazing. edit: howl. after going through all of these….. you have outdone yourself. you are amazing.

also yes this whole thing is just going to be me sobbing and crying and making myself sad about how much i made r suffer. WHAT OF IT. leave me to ramble!

ALSO ALSO heheh he this gif is so good. giggling. gonna watch that film JUST for this moment BAHAHAH

youth — sobbing. this song is just … emotional. its so good. and i think it’s just so :( poor r she’s going through it. “i’m forever missing him” is just so so real for this fic. bc she really just … can’t not think about her dad :( also the lyrics “shadows settle on the place that you left / our minds are troubled by the emptiness” is so r and joel coded. they are both suffering sm OOPS

home — i know this is going to be a common word here but.. sobbing. once again. this song is so :( AND ITS NEW TO ME!! i like hearing new songs and i trust in you and you specifically howl. ANYWAY. also the “so when are you coming home” is so …….. heartbreaking. gut wrenching. R’S DAD ISNT COMING HOME. and she knows it. and the exact lyrics you said like the sleeping on the other side of the country …….. bc her dad never made it there with her … it just makes me so sad.

broken — AAAAAHHHHH. (this is me violently sobbing and crying). and and and. i really like “please, wont someone take me home / before i lose my mind?” BUT SHE CANT GO HOME. and she really does feel like she’s losing it but like … she can’t bring herself to care. AND THOSE LAST LYRICS YOU SAID???? reader my beloved joel will be there soon :( also,,, that is exactly how joel felt and he just didnt want r to be stuck in that mindset yk, to be alone, to have nobody to pull her out of that nightmare yk

runaway — (i accidentally deleted this one…. i-) anyways AS I WAS SAYING. I LOVE THIS SONG. and in relation to this????? what if i cry, specifically, “and for a moment i thought you were here” is so so so. like you know those moments after losing someone and then like. you forget, even if its just for a moment, and then you remember and its just the worst all over again??? yeah, i know that. and yes i will be applying that to r. soz. r suffers with me. and and and “but no, take me home / take me home where i belong / i got no other place to go” like r just wants to be back home with her dad. she’s so sad. UGH. yeah. this song <3

overwhelmed — omg i’ve never actually heard the full song before now :0. anyway. also. this is so r on the journey to bill and frank’s like … before she just … fades. its mfing debilitating dude. also yes bc every time she gets .. overwhelmed, r fr does struggle to hold on to herself

leave a light on — JOEL TO R CODED YOURE SO RIGHT. “i see your pain” has me sobbing and crying because :( I KNOW I PUT A BIT OF A SPIN ON JOEL’S GRIEF AFTER SARAH but tbf we dont see it in the show or anything yk??? like we KNOW he did some … bad things, but lets be real. he didnt deal with it at all. he just fell into darker habits. and i just think him knowing exactly what r is going through, even though it will be different, he still KNOWS. and he can recognise it. and joel just makes me so sad. “but i need you to be brave” sobbing so hard. yes i will relate every song lyric to joel miller/my own fics. what about it. as we should. joel of all people KNOWS how much courage it takes to NOT fall into that headspace. my babies

it’ll be alright — howl ive never heard this song before and i……. im not ok. what the hell. this is so joel miller coded. yes he would relate this to ellie as well canonically. but r…….. its so much worse. joel KNOWS about the bad and the hurt. and joel KNOWS that out of all the people who deserve it .. r is not one of them. AND AND AND “how much longer will you suffer in this life? / but dont give up, just hold on tight / it’ll be alright” what if i sob and cry. joel just wants to reassure r man. these poor tortured souls. maybe one day ill write a happy fic (doubtful)

half light — yes on each and every level. THIS ONE IS SO PERFECT. “it makes me feel nervous / you have that look in your eye” bc joel recognises it :( joel KNOWSSSS. he knows. he’s all knowing. he knows exactly what that look means. he’s seen it in his own eyes. “it is not you i see / and you live a half life” OH WHAT JOEL WOULD DO TO TAKE AWAY ALL OF R’S PAIN. to make her ok and whole and happy. he wishes he could fix it. but he knows he can’t :( nothing can fix that pain, after all, he would know. im losing my mind rn

daylight — THIS ONE FITS SO WELL TOO. idk how you ALWAYS do this. how do you never miss???? “souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt” ??????????????????????? no because joel and r literally are mirrors of each other. they both feel the exact same guilt. and they always will. and the pride that they BOTH have in trying to handle it all alone. like yes r accepts joel and tess’s help (not that they really give her a choice) but she doesn’t WANT to connect, she doesn’t want to talk about it. and i imagine joel to have been the exact same way, only going on for tommy, and yes eventually tess, though u can imagine how long he spent refusing to admit even to himself it was bc he cared about her SMH. ‘business/survival’ is what he woulda told tommy about looking out for her. “you and i drink the poison from the same vine” hmmmm yes they really do. they r one and the same. they’ll self destruct till there’s nothing left tbh. and and and “tellin’ myself its the last time / can you spare any mercy that you might find” is joel coded and no i needn’t say more.

#heartpascal says #howl <3 #sobbing and crying #howl’s song recs #IM SOBBBBIUNNNGGG #THESE ARE SO GOOD #also this got kinda long oops #i can’t help it im obsessde #my favourite part of writing fics is when the amazing howl comes in with their fic recs.#highlight of my day <3 #I LOVE YOU

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frozenartscapes · 4 years

Text

Screech In - FE3H Fic

If you’re not familiar with the Newfoundlander tradition of a “Screech In”, I highly recommend you check it out. Or just listen to this song from Come From Away. This isn’t exactly that, but Screech is involved...

---

It was a miserable, rainy evening when the Imperial Army marched into a tiny village in recently-conquered Alliance territory. Waterlogged and exhausted, the Emperor and her team headed to the inn to secure lodging for the night. That was all that was needed, really, but as the Black Eagles gathered in the small pub under the inn for a meagre meal, they overheard talk that might help their cause.

Talk coming from a group of rowdy, crude bandits.

It was something about a secret path to the Kingdom. A route through rough terrain initially believed to be impassable unless on a pegasus or wyvern. Such information would be highly valuable to the Imperial Army.

“We ain’t telling you shit!” the lead bandit spat, sending little bits of food into Hubert’s face.

Hubert barely grimaced as he stiffly wiped his face with a handkerchief. “Need I remind you, gentlemen, that you are in the presence of her Imperial Majesty,” he said coolly, “And that not cooperating could get...unpleasant for you.”

“Oh ho! You hear that, Rolf?” one of the bandits asked as they slapped their leader’s shoulder with a laugh, “Her Majesty is here! Oh no! Better watch out!”

Rolf, the leader, didn’t laugh so easily. “Listen here, boy. The things you’re askin’ us about are trade secrets. Not for the bloody Emperor and every officer in the Imperial Army,” he said with a growl, “Now I suggest you skulk back to whatever coffin you crawled out of and leave us be.”

Hubert’s eye twitched. Magic gathered in his hand. “Very well,” he stated simply.

An armoured hand came to rest on his shoulder, forcing the magic to dissipate. “And what would it take to share this ‘trade secret’?” Edelgard asked, her voice doing a fantastic job hiding how angry she was at the men. No one insulted Hubert like that while she was around.

A chorus of sarcastic “ooooh”s came from the gang, and all eyes were on Rolf. “Lady,” he said after a long swig of his drink, “You could give me your marble palace, that gold crown on your head, and yourself, buck naked in my bed, and I still wouldn’t tell you anything.”

Byleth stepped forward, beginning to unsheath her sword. No one talked to Edelgard like that, not while she was around.

Edelgard held up one hand to halt her team, all of whom had the same idea as Byleth. “Very well. If you are not willing to part with the information naturally, then perhaps if we win in a challenge?” she offered.

Ferdinand gasped, genuinely insulted. “What? She won’t accept any of my challenges but these drunkards-” His complaining was cut short by Dorothea’s elbow to his ribcage.

Rolf scoffed. “You think I’m dumb enough to challenge you lot?” he said dryly, “There’d be no bloody contest if we were to fight ya.”

“It does not have to be a test of strength,” Edelgard told him, keeping her voice as steady as always, “I’m sure there must be something you believe you’d have an advantage in. Name your challenge.”

Rolf eyed her for a moment, and then he chuckled. He waved to the bartender, and said with a smug grin, “Very well, Lady. You’ve got yourself a deal. My challenge is this: if any of you can beat me and my men in a drinking contest, then you’ve got your information. Once we remember it in the morning, of course. You lose, and you pack up all your men and never set foot in this village again.”

“That’s...not so bad,” Caspar muttered.

“Oh and I forgot to mention,” Rolf continued as the bartender set down a large bottle with an unidentifiable liquid inside, “We’ll be drinking this stuff. Screech. Bet you’ve never heard of it before, eh, Little Lady?”

“Oh this is bad,” Byleth breathed. She rushed to the Emperor’s side and whispered, “Edelgard, this stuff is practically poison. It’s taken down some of the biggest, meanest mercenaries I’ve ever met. I don’t think any of you will be able to drink more than a shot of the stuff.”

“Are you doubting us, Professor?” Edelgard shot back with an eyebrow raised.

“Well... Yes. Actually,” Byleth admitted with a sigh, “Like I said: the biggest guys I’ve ever met couldn’t handle this stuff.”

“And what about you, Professor?”

Byleth blinked. She’d had Screech before. Only a shot or two before Jeralt stopped her. (Yeah, it was bad enough for Jeralt to step in.) But...she felt fine afterward.

“Fire consumes alcohol, Professor,” Edelgard uttered. Byleth shot her a confused glance before it all began to click.

Oh no. She was not-

“I’ll try it,” Caspar offered, stepping forward before anyone could stop him.

Rolf’s ridiculous smile remained plastered on his face as he poured a shot of Screech and handled it to Caspar. Caspar threw it back and almost instantly he was on the floor, coughing and sputtering and screaming at the burning sensation in his mouth.

“Goddess, what’s in that?” he shouted angrily, reaching for his neck to ensure the stuff hadn’t burned through his throat.

Rolf and his cronies were howling with laughter. “And that is why we call it Screech!” he shouted proudly, before levelling the tiny Emperor a victorious smile, “Who’s next?”

Edelgard said not a word. Instead, with her head held high, she stepped forward and took a seat at the table across from Rolf, much to the shock and amusement of the band of bandits and the horror of her own team.

“Lady Edelgard, I must insist-” Hubert began, his composure breaking only a little in his panic.

“Hubert, I promise you, I can handle this,” Edelgard interrupted, remaining as calm as ever.

“Yeah, Hubert! This could be fun,” Lindhardt said sarcastically.

“Oh, I can’t watch!” Bernadetta squeaked, taking cover behind an equally terrified Dorothea.

Byleth glanced between the team and Edelgard and heaved a heavy sigh. She stepped forward, and took a seat beside the Emperor. “Let’s at least make this fair,” she said, earning a grateful glance from Edelgard.

“You two?” Rolf demanded incredulously, eyes darting between the two young woman seated across from him. He laughed, and poured them both a shot of Screech and one for himself. “Your funeral,” he stated before taking the drink, wincing slightly at the taste.

Edelgard and Byleth both reached for their shots. They looked to each other, raised their glasses, and drank.

Not even a flinch between them.

Rolf’s smile was wiped off his face in an instant. He took a look at the bottle of Screech, as if checking to ensure he had actually poured it for them.

“What just happened?” Ferdinand said after recovering from the shock.

“We’re going to win, is what happened!” Caspar shouted triumphantly from the floor.

“Sometimes the first shot doesn’t register right away,” Rolf said defensively, pouring another round, “It’s the second one that gets ya.”

“That’s not at all what I’ve heard about Screech,” Byleth said as she casually downed her shot, “The whole point is that it knocks you out flat after the first drink.”

Edelgard finished hers with equal ease. “I’m not entirely sure what the big deal was,” she said, stoic as ever, “It’s got lovely notes of smoked wood and spice. I might almost consider having this from time to time in my study.”

Rolf sputtered in shock, choking a little on his own shot. “Screech doesn’t have a taste!” he stated, “It’s just supposed to burn.”

“I disagree,” Edelgard said simply, “It’s actually quite delicious.”

“Are you...serious, right now?”

“What’s the matter, Rolf?” Byleth challenged, “Afraid you might lose? We can call this off if you want, provided you give us what we want.”

Rolf’s expression dropped into a hardened, stubborn line. “I never back down from a fight,” he growled. He poured another round and sucked back his with a grimace. “If I can’t beat a couple of women in a drinking contest, then I’ve failed as a bandit.”

“You probably might want to consider a career change, then,” Byleth replied. She and Edelgard clinked their glasses together before taking the shots.

Rolf and his cronies didn’t look so confident anymore.

---

It was a few hours later. Three empty bottles of Screech sat on the table. Everyone in the bar had gathered around, watching the show with much amusement. Drinks had been passed around, laughs were had, and all around it was a great time.

All because of one silly little contest.

One Edelgard and Byleth were winning. By a lot.

The pair of them were definitely beginning to feel the effects of all that alcohol. Byleth’s tongue had gotten a lot sharper and her words significantly more colourful. Edelgard’s stiff persona had melted away and her cheeks were steadily becoming the same colour as her armour.

But both of them were faring far better than Rolf and his cronies. The gang of bandits had to tag each other in and out of the contest, all seven of them eventually going head-to-head with the duo. None of them made it very long. Only Rolf stayed in it, soldiering on despite barely being able to keep his head up. His confidence was now completely gone, and it looked like he’d sooner drink deadly poison than another shot of Screech.

“You two...you aren’t...human,” he wheezed, struggling to keep from heaving up the potent contents of his stomach.

“Probably not,” Byleth said with a shrug, sending Edelgard a knowing smile. She raised her glass and stated triumphantly, “To Adrestia! And a brighter tomorrow!”

Everyone in the bar cheered and drank to that toast as Byleth and Edelgard did the same.

Edelgard poured two more drinks and raised her own glass. “To Captain Jeralt! A man I had the most pleasure to meet, an incredible warrior, and...” She smiled at Byleth. “...One amazing father. May his memory live on!”

“Whoo! To the Captain!” Caspar cheered as he took a long drink of beer.

Hubert put his head in his hands in defeat.

Byleth, not to be outdone, poured another drink and made another toast: “To Ionius IX! I never knew him personally but he raised one hell of a daughter!”

“This is either the greatest thing I’ve ever seen or the most horrifying,” Dorothea uttered.

“Well, it’s a good thing everyone here is drunk, because no one is going to believe this happened tomorrow,” Lindhardt sighed.

Rolf attempted to keep up but his dexterity was so far gone he couldn’t bring the glass up to his mouth.

“Well come on, Rolf,” Byleth said with all the confidence of a drunken mercenary, “I thought you picked this challenge because you were sure you’d win.”

“I’m not...going to lose,” Rolf argued weakly, “Just need to...rest for a minute.”

“Well what’s the point of a drinking contest if naps are taken halfway through?” Edelgard jabbed with a laugh, “They’d never end if they were like that!”

“You two... Are clearly cheatin’...somehow,” Rolf drawled, “I don’t know how, but... Y’are. Be that as it may, I won’t...go down so easy.”

“You think that was easy?” Byleth asked as she clinked two of the three empty bottles together.

“I think it’s time we finished this, Professor,” Edelgard said, gesturing to the bartender to bring three more bottles.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” Hubert hissed, “You’ve clearly won. Just wait for the man to fall out of his seat.”

“Not now, Hubert,” Edelgard returned, her words only slurring just a little, “Rolf here had the gall to insult my companions and was dumb enough to accept a challenge from me. I’m sure Ferdinand knows what must be done.”

Hubert whipped around to face Ferdinand, who held up his hands in defence. “I swear to you I have no idea she would go this far,” he stammered.

“Then what was she talking about?” Hubert demanded.

“She’s, um...” Ferdinand winced and prayed Hubert’s head wasn’t about to explode, “She’s going for a critical.”

The bartender set the bottles of Screech down at the table with a look of concern on his face. Which was saying a lot, as this was a man who looked like he wouldn’t normally be concerned about anything.

Edelgard passed one bottle to Byleth and set the other in front of Rolf. “We’re ahead of you by about seven shots, but let's make this interesting,” she said with a victorious grin, “If you can finish that before we finish ours, you win.”

“You’re mad,” Rolf spat, eyeing the bottle as if it were about to burst into flames.

“Perhaps I am,” Edelgard said as she sat back in her chair, “‘The Mad Emperor’... I like the sound of that.”

“No, you don’t!” Hubert stated grumpily, “And you are not doing this! No amount of information in the world would-”

“Hubert, buddy, I love ya, but you should have made this argument, like... Two hours ago,” Byleth slurred, earning her a death glare she was too drunk to care about, “I’m in! Get going, Rolf!”

Rolf picked up the bottle in his hand and grimaced. He shakily brought it to his lips and took a small sip. Almost immediately, his body rejected it and he spat the Screech back out onto the floor, coughing and sputtering and choking on the burning liquid.

“I give,” he wheezed, “We all do! You win, you demons, the pair of ya!”

“Congrats, El! You are officially a Demon!” Byleth shouted triumphantly.

“Victory is ours!” Edelgard declared, the whole bar erupting into cheers. Caspar was especially loud.

“Cheers, my Crimson Demon,” Byleth said, holding up her bottle, “It’s been an honour as always to fight by your side.”

“And, as always, I am forever grateful to have you here with me,” Edelgard replied, clinking her bottle against Byleths.

And then, to the horror of most of the Black Eagles, the pair downed the entire contents of their bottles of Screech. Rolf, bearing witness to such a bold move, passed out.

What followed would be a night remembered by that village for years to come.

As it turned out, the shenanigans that went down that infamous night in that little town became a legend. Since the start of the war that little town had had little to celebrate. The arrival of the Emperor of Adrestia and her army at first seemed to be like a slap in the face.

Until the same Emperor who had defeated the Alliance came down from her high horse and had a drink with the people, revealing herself to be just as human as any one of them.

She also put Rolf in his place, which was welcomed by many in that little town.

In the years following, a festival took place on that day. There were plenty of laughs, competition, and fun. And enough Screech to last an army.

It would not, however, be remembered by the two women at the centre of it all.

---

Sunlight filtered in through broken blinds, pouring into the room as streaks of light made clear by dust particles floating in the air. Birds chirped happily, finding plenty to eat in the damp ground after the rain.

Edelgard slowly became aware of the birds, though she wasn’t ready to face the sunlight. She was warm and comfortable in her bed, the scratchy wool blanket the only thing slightly unpleasant. She opened one eye but closed it immediately, groaning softly as shooting pain in her head appeared right between the eyes. Forget waking up - she was happy here where it was soft and warm.

Then her pillow snored. And suddenly she was aware that her head wasn’t resting on a pillow.

But her professor’s chest.

Her eyes flew open and she shot up, which was a mistake because the vertigo mixed with the splitting headache almost made her throw up. The sound she made - a combination of a startled yelp and a pained groan - was enough to cause Byleth to stir slightly. Edelgard heard her moan something, possibly requesting an extra five minutes of sleep.

As Edelgard held her head in one hand, almost ready to pray to the goddess just to make the pain go away, she tried to start piecing together the previous night. She and Byleth were both still clothed, which was a good sign. They had somehow managed to remove most of their armour and adornments - how she had managed to get her crown off will forever remain a mystery. Judging by the mess on the floor, it looked as though they pulled off what they had been able to before collapsing in a heap on the bed. Together.

“Professor,” Edelgard hissed urgently, giving Byleth’s shoulder a nudge, “My teacher!”

Byleth lazily swatted her hand away and let out a soft noise of protest. “Mmh... Turn the light off... ‘ts too bright...”

“Byleth!”

Byleth’s eyes opened at that. Despite their closeness, Edelgard still rarely referred to her by her name. She only ever did when something was wrong.

She ended up having a similar reaction to Edelgard: she opened her eyes, was immediately blinded and struck by a massive headache, and closed her eyes again while wincing in pain. “Fuck, were we poisoned last night?” she demanded grumpily, “I feel awful.”

“We likely were, and we did it to ourselves,” Edelgard said with a sigh, “I’m not going to ever hear the end of this...”

Byleth let out another pained noise as she covered her eyes with her hand. After a moment, she said bluntly: “We slept together.”

Edelgard made a noise Byleth had never heard her make before, prompting her to back peddle clumsily. “No, I mean... We shared a bed! No, not in that way, we just... Spent the night together? Platonically. Fully clothed. Shit, I’m not making this better, am I?”

Edelgard sighed and patted Byleth’s shoulder affectionally. “Just stop talking, my teacher,” she advised. She released another sigh. “Well, we can’t avoid it forever. We should get ready and face the consequences of our ridiculous actions.”

“Or we could just lie here for a bit longer?” Byleth suggested.

Edelgard pushed herself off the bed and stood on her feet for about two seconds before sinking back down. She carefully flopped down beside Byleth and swallowed the bile that had risen up in her throat. “We can lie here until the room stops spinning,” she said weakly.

Byleth rolled over and snuggled up closer to Edelgard, draping one arm over her to keep her there. “‘Plationically’, my teacher?” Edelgard asked dryly, feeling her cheeks heating up.

“Yes, platonically,” Byleth replied, “You’re warm.”

Edelgard huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “What was I thinking?” she groaned, “Of all the questionable things I’ve done in my life, that had to be the stupidest...”

“But it was kinda fun,” Byleth told her, “It was...nice, seeing you loosen up a little.”

Edelgard turned to shoot her a mild glare. “Yes, I suppose taking the stick out of my ass for a night was, I suppose, good for me.” Byleth’s eyes went wide with shock, her mouth even falling open a little. “I’m still a little drunk,” Edelgard realized.

“That...reminds me,” Byleth said slowly, rolling over and releasing Edelgard to stare at the ceiling, “I don’t remember much from last night but I do remember you saying something about fire consuming alcohol... Did you...know that the Crest of Flames would do that? Because we should be way worse right now given all we had to drink last night...”

Edelgard frowned. “It was more a hunch than anything,” she said after a pause, “I, um... It was hard, having to keep up the Imperial Princess image at grand galas and balls after... My siblings and I used to keep each other entertained, but... Well, being the only one and having to pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t... I...might have...tried to...”

Byleth reached over and took her hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. “Sadly, anything I drank never seemed to have the expected result,” Edelgard continued, “Everyone else could drink to forget, but I, for whatever reason, had too high a tolerance. I have now learned I do have a limit, but if I had tried to drink that much at a royal ball I likely would have been sealed away somewhere.”

“That...would explain some things about me, then,” Byleth mused, “As a member of a band of mercenaries, it was fairly common to gather together after long days and have a few drinks. Some of them got badly drunk, but I never did. Not even a little tipsy. I always just thought it was just another... inhuman... thing about me, but...”

“Like I said, the Crest of Flames was just a guess,” Edelgard said, “I was too young to have tested my theory before gaining it, but knowing we have shared experiences only makes the theory stronger.”

“Well, it was a pretty good guess. And a good bluff.” Byleth chuckled to herself, then explained, “I’ve seen people get that drunk before but I had no idea what it felt like. Actually, if I’m being honest, I still don’t fully know. I vaguely remember Hubert glaring at me like he was going to skin me alive, and then nothing.”

“Yes, I remember about that much as well. I hope Hubert and the others aren’t too angry with us...”

Just then, the door to their room was thrown open. “Good morninggg!” the intruder sang with all the power of an opera singer. They walked right over to the window and threw the blinds open, flooding the room with light.

The hungover pair in the bed didn’t stand a chance.

“Dorothea, to what do we owe the honour of a visit?” Edelgard growled from underneath a pillow, trying desperately to shield her eyes from that accursed sunlight.

“Oh look at you, my dears! Did you have a good rest?” Dorothea asked cheerfully, completely ignoring the question and their grumpy moods.

“Something tells me they are still angry with us,” Byleth grumbled.

“Oh don’t worry,” Dorothea assured them, “If you ask me, I personally think your relationship needed something like this. One wild night of letting loose and having fun, then retiring together in the same bed? Why, it’s just like an opera!”

“This isn’t happening,” Edelgard moaned, feeling heat rising all the way up to her ears.

“Just be glad I managed to convince Hubert to allow me to wake you. He, uh, likely wouldn’t have been so gentle.”

“You call that gentle?” Byleth asked dryly.

“Oh believe me, compared to what he wanted to do, I practically gave you both the gentlest wake-up call there ever was. But I’ve only been able to stall him for so long so you two had best get up before he sets the inn on fire.”

Byleth let out a despondent moan as she rolled off the bed and onto the floor, still wrapped up in the blanket. At the loss of the covering, Edelgard flinched before slowly sitting up, removing the pillow to face the sun as bravely as she could.

“What time is it, anyway?” she asked, rubbing the side of her head weakly in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

“It’s about quarter to noon,” Dorothea chirped in reply.

“It’s what?!”

Now it was Edelgard’s turn to be on the floor in a heap, having leapt from the bed only to realize too late that her equilibrium was still compromised.

“Yes. Unfortunately Hubie isn’t very pleased about it.”

“No shit! Why didn’t anyone wake us! We were supposed to depart hours ago!” Despite the tumble, she was already moving to freshen up and collect her things off the floor, throwing any of Byleth’s items on the bed as she came across them.

“Swearing, Edie? Is now really the best time for such language?”

“Dorothea.”

“Ok!” Byleth’s hand shot up from the other side of the bed, and slowly the rest of Byleth appeared as she hoisted herself up to lean on the mattress. “Moderator with a very bad headache, here!” she stated, “Dorothea, El can swear as much as she likes, given present circumstances and the fact that she’s the Emperor. El, what we did was incredibly stupid and irresponsible and it’s time to face the consequences of that.”

“I know that! It’s that we’re late!” Edelgard shot back, “If Hubert ever speaks to me again he’s going to give me an earful. I doubt Ferdinand will ever let me live this down. I’m the one who sets the standards for my army and this is how I go about it?”

Dorothea struggled to hide her smirk. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about Ferdinand. He eventually got into the spirit and attempted to catch up with you,” she informed them.

Edelgard whipped around to stare at her in horror. Then she let out a defeated groan. “Hubert is going to kill me.”

“He won’t do that,” Byleth assured her, slowly rising to her own feet, “It’d go against everything he believes in. Me, on the other hand...”

Edelgard gathered most of Byleth’s clothes up and lobbed them toward her, Byleth effortlessly catching them with her face. The pair scrambled to get ready while Dorothea watched with thinly veiled amusement. Once presentable, and after one more long, deep breath to psyche themselves up, they headed out of the room and toward the stairs.

“Oh, I should warn you,” Dorothea added as she followed after them, “Things got pretty wild last night.”

“I gathered that, Dorothea, but I can’t imagine it is utterly horrifying,” Edelgard replied, opening the main door of the tavern to head out and seek the rest of her party.

She froze in the door, as did Byleth. Chaos would have been an understatement. She’d seen villages after battles that looked better than this one. Animals were running wild in the streets. Windows were smashed. Debris from broken kegs and crates was scattered everywhere. Fabric that looked suspiciously like curtains hung from a nearby light pole. Empty bottles lay strewn about. There were quite a few citizens passed out in gutters. Everyone else appeared to be nursing a hangover. Someone had climbed the nearby clocktower and only half-successfully hung an Adrestian banner from it. There was a horse in the town fountain, casually splashing about without a care in the world.

“Oh goddess,” Byleth breathed, “I’ve seen this before. Mercenary groups get too rowdy, it spreads into the streets, and then in the morning we get run out of town.”

“Byleth I want you to take your sword and stab me. Right in the chest, right now,” Edelgard commanded.

“She will do no such thing. Not until I have a word with both of you.”

Both women nearly leapt out of their skins at the sound of that ominous voice behind them. They both whirled around, Edelgard reaching for her dagger and Byleth the hilt of her sword.

Hubert didn’t even flinch.

“Hubert: I can explain,” Edelgard began, trying her best to stand as tall and commanding as she could. It was Hubert. She knew him better than anyone. So why was so suddenly so damn nervous?

“No need, Your Majesty,” Hubert replied, holding up his hand to stop her in her tracks, “Your plan worked well. I tracked down that bandit this morning and, while he himself was still unresponsive, his companions gave us the information we wanted. Taking the shortcut will cut our travel time significantly, and if we leave now we should arrive at our destination around the same time as if we left at the time first agreed upon.” He paused, gesturing to the town centre before them. “You also drastically increased moral with your choices last night. And successfully won the town over. It had apparently been years since they had cause to celebrate anything.”

“It...what?” Edelgard demanded.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I will now go and ready everyone for deployment.”

“Wait, you’re not mad?”

Hubert sent her a look she was sure he only ever reserved for his enemies. While his expression remained neutral, behind his eyes was a flurry of emotion - none of it good. “Absolutely not,” he replied stiffly. He then skulked past them and into the courtyard.

“You know you can yell at me!” Edelgard called after him.

“Leave him, Edie. Hubert doesn’t do explosive anger,” Dorothea sighed.

“Am I the only one who’s afraid to go to sleep tonight?” Byleth asked as she watched the shadowy man slink off. He had such an aura of grumpiness around him a stablehand ran off shrieking after accidentally making eye contact.

“We will sleep in shifts for a while,” Edelgard decided.

Dorothea snorted with laughter, beginning to head toward the group. “Oh, by the way,” she said slyly, doing a poor job at hiding the wide grin on her face, “I hope the two of you kissed each other better than you kissed that fish.”

That was the second time in one morning Byleth heard Edelgard make that noise she had previously never heard before.

#they are 'college' students after all #or were anyway #fe three houses #black eagles #edelgard #byleth #poor choices were made #but things still worked out

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buckthegrump · 6 years

Text

GSW

Summary: After getting injured in Brooklyn, Steve forces Bucky to visit the local VA hospital.

Warnings: gun violence (nothing graphic or major), some swearing, fluff, ???

Word Count: 1884

A/N: This is for hannah’s ( @kentuckybarnes ) writing challenge congrats on 3k . also i got the idea from a post I saw on here but I don’t remember who’s but here we are

Bucky knew Steve was prone to doing stupid shit. But the punk had really outdone himself this time.

“Stop glaring at me,” Steve huffed.

“I’ll stop glaring when you stop doing stupid shit,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t see how this is my fault,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky scoffed out a laugh.

That morning Steve had forced Bucky out of bed and said that the two of them were taking the day off. Bucky had thought it was a good idea so went along with no fight. So Steve and Bucky made their way to Brooklyn. They walked around the place that they used to call home and mad ‘old man’ comments about the different building and the Starbucks that used to be drugstores or a candy shop.

At one point Bucky and Steve had gotten separated, Bucky snuck off to the bathroom and when he got back to where he left Steve, the punk was gone.

Bucky didn’t have any clue as to where Steve could’ve gone. Until he heard the familiar sound of punches being thrown.

Bucky inwardly groaned and made his way to the alley that the noises were coming from.

The sight of Steve fighting two men was familiar, although this time Steve was the one who towered over them and was able to hold his own.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Bucky asked.

He walked into the alley and started helping Steve. Bucky landed on punch on one of the guys and knocked him out. A second later the sound of a gunshot echoed through the alley. Bucky and Steve paused and looked to the second guy who was standing there with a gun pointed at Bucky.

Bucky looked down to see his grey shirt stained red on his right side. He looked back to the guy with the gun.

“Ouch!” Was all Bucky said.

Steve swiftly grabbed the gun and kicked the guy in the chest sending him back into the brick wall and knocking him out.

Steve had demanded that they go to the VA hospital that was only a block or two away. Bucky had fought that, saying that he could make it back to the compound. But once Bucky winced as he started walking Steve won the argument.

They finally got out of the waiting room and into an exam room.

Being a nurse was always interesting. Especially at the VA. You were never sure what kind of people you would meet. Typically it was old veterans that liked to flirt they younger nurses, most of the time it wasn’t in a creepy way typically when men did the creepy flirting it was the men closer to your age.

There were also the very few time's veterans would bring in one of their children in for a check-up.

“Y/n,” Addy came over and handed you a tablet, “there’s a guy who needs a check-up and I’m off. And no, I will not stay and do this for you. So have fun!”

Addy walked away before you could protest.

“Ha, ha,” Lacey laughed at you, “it’s probably some old guy who’s gonna be creepy.”

“Thanks, Lace,” you got up and walked to the Exam room.

You walked into the room and your eyes land on the one and only Captain America. You stopped in your tracks.

“Um, good afternoon I’m Y/n,” you said.

“Steve,” he said and stepped to the side revealing the former Winter Soldier, “This is my very idiotic friend Bucky, he needs medical attention.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky groaned.

Bucky finally looked at you and his mouth hung open.

Steve sat in the chair next to the exam table and started thumbing through a magazine.

“Ok, well I have to do some intake paperwork, so I’m going to ask you some questions,” you told him and unlocked the tablet.

He answered the questions with no problems. You had a little trouble with getting the system to accept his age but it finally got it.

“And what brings you in today, Mr. Barnes?” You asked and Steve laughed.

“Please, call me Bucky,” Bucky said while Steve continued to laugh.

“I feel like that should be closer to the start of the questioning,” Steve muttered.

“Rogers,” Bucky scorned.

“What?” You looked at the two of them, “Am I missing something?”

“Unzip your jacket Barnes,” Steve ordered.

Bucky looked at you and kept eye contact while he unzipped his jacket. You looked down to his side.

“Is that a gunshot wound?” You walked over to him and pushed the jacket to the side so you could see if the gunshot was through and through. “You still have a bullet in you.”

“Can even give them an easy wound could you?” Steve commented from the chair.

“This is still your fault,” Bucky told him.

“How are you guys so calm about this?” You muttered and rushed to get the doctor.

“You like her,” Steve smirked.

“Shut up.” Bucky watched as you rushed out the door.

“I cannot believe that you got to help Bucky Barnes, he’s so hot,” Addy said bitterly the next day as she sat next to you.

“It’s your fault,” you reminded her and she waved you off.

“Did you get his number?” Lacey asked.

You glared at her.

“That’s wildly inappropriate Lacey, I can’t get the number of a patient while he has a gunshot wound,” you said.

“What about an ex-patient with a healed wound?” A voice came from behind you.

You turned and saw Bucky Barnes standing there.

“What about ‘em?” You asked a smile tugging at your lips.

“Do you exchange numbers with them?” He asked shyly, “Or is that also wildly inappropriate?”

You glanced at Addy and Lacey who were staring at you expectedly.

“Well, I don’t typically give my number to 100-year-old men, just as a general rule.”

“But what if they’re a supersoldier and are pretty spry for their old age?”

“Oh well, that’s a case to case basis,” you said.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “what about my case?”

You grabbed the sticky note pad and write down your name and number. Ripping off the paper you got up from your spot and walked over to him and handed it to him.

“Don’t blow this,” you told him.

He smirked and gave you a wink, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

You were nervous.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again and had to stop yourself from going and changing again because Bucky would be here at any moment.

Bucky had texted you an hour after getting your number, then proceeded to ask you on a date rather promptly, claiming that even though he was enjoying the technology from the 21st century he preferred getting to know people in person. Not that you minded at all.

A moment later you got a text from Bucky telling you that he was downstairs. You made it down the stairs in record time.

When you’re face to face with him you momentarily forgot to breathe. He was wearing all black with the sleeves of his button up rolled up 3/4s of the way.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you beamed.

“Ready to go?” He grabbed the door handle and you nodded. “I didn’t know how you felt about motorcycles so I figured we could walk to the restaurant but if that doesn’t work I can call a cab or -”

“Walking in fine,” you stopped him.

You were instantly grateful that you had chosen flats instead of heels tonight.

He offered you his right arm and you hooked your arm through his, and the two of you started walking.

“So,” he said, “how did you become a nurse?”

“By going to school,” you teased.

“Ha, you’re funny. I meant what made you want to become a nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you said, “which reminds me. How did you end up in my hospital with a gunshot wound?”

“Oh well, the star-spangled man with a plan got into a tussle with two ragamuffins,” Bucky shrugged and you burst out into laughter, “what?”

“I’m sorry, you just said ‘tussle with two ragamuffins’ with the straightest face,” you wheezed.

“You know it’s not very nice to make fun of your elders.”

“Yeah well,” you looked at his face to see he was looking at you, “I think you can handle it.”

“I like the sound of your laugh,” he admitted. His eyes widened and he turned to look at where he was leading you.

You gasped slightly, “Mr. Barnes do I make you nervous?”

“Oh look we’re here!” He said pointing to a diner.

You shook your head letting the question go.

Once you two had sat down and ordered you tried to think of a question to ask that you didn’t already know the answer to.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I fell like I should be better at this,” he admitted.

“I don’t know when the last time you went on a date was -”

“In the ’40s.”

“Well, this is how first dates work, awkward silences. Besides, it’s kind of my fault,” you told him.

“How so?” He asked.

“Well, if I didn’t go to the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian as many times as I did, I would probably have more things to ask you.”

“So you know all about me?” He asked looking a little defeated.

“Well, clearly not all about you.”

“But you know about the things I’ve done?” He looked at you as you nodded.

He put his head in his hands and sighed.

“You’re acting like I don’t want to be on this date,” you said and he looked up at you hopefully, “I could’ve easily canceled besides, we shouldn’t be talking about the messy parts of our pasts until at least date 3.”

The waitress brought over your food and placed it in front of you.

“So you want more dates with me?” He teased.

“Ok, we just got our food, slow down there ragamuffin,” you widened your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Oh man,” you pull out your phone and type something in.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your name in my phone to ragamuffin.”

He groaned and you laughed at him.

“I do have a question for you. Why was the howling commando’s exhibit in the air and space section? The last time I heard about Captain America flying a plane he crashed it and disappeared for 70 years.”

Bucky laughed and launched into a story that had nothing to do with the question but you enjoyed it anyway.

At the end of the night, Bucky walked you back to your building and stood with you for a moment.

“So do you still want more dates with me?” he asked.

“Well, I mean I do have a great nickname for you -”

“When’s your next night off?”

“Friday,” you cocked your eyebrow, “Isn’t that a little soon for date number two?”

“I’d say it wasn’t soon enough if that didn’t make me sound creepy -”

“It won’t,” you smiled at him.

“Well then, Friday.”

“8 o’clock,” you agreed. “But this time I pick the place.”

“Sounds perfect,” he whispered and kissed your cheek.

You watched him as he walked to his motorcycle. You couldn’t wait until Friday.

#hannahs3kwritingchallenge #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic #bucky x reader #bucky fic

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magicalmarauder · 6 years

Text

Clumsy

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Reader is Shawn Mendes’ girlfriend, who also happens to be very clumsy. One day, you come home with a huge black eye after walking into a pole. Shawn, of course, is very concerned and angry, ready to go after the person who did this to you, only to find out it was your own fault. Just a cute, fluffy little story.

A/N: This idea just popped into my head the other day and I thought I’d write it. Not sure if it’s any good or not, but hope everyone enjoys it anyway! Let me know if you have any feedback.

Walking into your apartment, you threw your keys onto the side table stationed next to the door, quickly making your way into the kitchen and the freezer that you knew was stocked with frozen peas. Ideally, those peas would be used to make you something to eat, but with your luck, more often than not, they were used to reduce the swelling of the multitude of injuries that you accidentally inflicted upon yourself.

You were, as others would call it, a klutz. A complete and utter klutz. It would be something to laugh about if it truly didn’t endanger your life every other day. Growing up, you had been a victim of your own clumsiness, suffering from broken bones, bruises, and so many other random injuries that normal people would never have to worry about, but that plagued you throughout your life. Today, though, it seemed as if you had topped your own clumsy record. On your way home from work, you had been walking toward your car, paying slightly more attention to your phone rather than where you were going, and had walked straight into a pole. Luckily, no one had been around to see your incredibly embarrassing blunder, but the pain that you felt throbbing near your eye was a painful reminder of the occurrence.

Opening the freezer, you pulled out the frozen bag of peas and applied it to your face, flinching at the sudden cold feeling.

Next, you made your way into the bathroom, steeling yourself to assess the damage and groaned. It was worse than you had originally thought. Staring back at you in the mirror, was a reflection of your normal appearance, aside from the array of bruising and swelling surrounding your right eye, revealing, for lack of a better word, a huge, ugly black eye.

Gently, you touch the tender area, hissing as pain shoots through you. It seemed like you had really outdone yourself this time.

Sighing, you continued to assess the damage, contemplating how much makeup you would have to use each morning to cover up the evidence of what had happened. However, before you could determine any further, you heard the front door open and the voice of your boyfriend of two years calling out to you.

“Y/N! I’m home!” Shawn shouted as you heard him place his things down by the front door.

Shoot, you groaned. He was home early. Usually he would still be at the studio recording for a few more hours. On any other day, you would be thrilled with this opportunity to spend a little extra time with your extremely busy rockstar boyfriend. But not today. You had been hoping to cover up the damage before Shawn could see it. Although your boyfriend loved you very, very much, he found your lack of grace and coordination to be extremely hilarious. Any time you would come home with a new story of how you had tripped in front of your co-workers or fallen off your chair at the start of an important meeting, he would howl with laughter before your pouted at him, causing him to kiss you sweetly and apologize, but still with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Where are you?” You heard him call from the living room.

“Coming!” You replied quickly. May as well get it over with.

Preparing yourself for his laughter and light teasing, you stepped into the room and Shawn turned to you, a sweet smile spread across his face. However, that smile was quickly wiped away as he took in your swollen face.

“Baby! What happened?!” He exclaimed, rushing to stand in front of you, gently taking your jaw in his hands and tilting your face to get a better look at your shiner.

Looking up into his face, you were surprised to see anger glinting in his eyes rather than the humor that you had been anticipating. It was not very often that you saw Shawn angry. You two rarely fought and even when you did, Shawn was careful not to let his temper take control. But looking up at him now, you saw such rage masking his face, causing you to simply stare back in shock, unable to form words.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded, his hands lightly skimming over the bruises that had formed, painting the area around your eye hideous shades of purple and yellow.

You simply gaped back at him, taken aback by his aggressive demeanor.

“Baby,” he pleaded. “I need you to tell me who did this to you. I promise I’m going to make them pay for laying a hand on you,” he promised, hands now cupping your face as he gazed down at you fiercely, causing your heart to leap as understanding rushed through you. He thought someone had attacked you. Which of course was the more rational conclusion, you admitted. When someone came home with a black eye, your first instinct would be that someone had obviously hit you, not that you were a clumsy idiot that had managed to walk into a pole, effectively giving yourself a black eye.

“Shawn,” you murmured, placing your hands on top of his own, running your thumbs comfortingly along his skin. “No one hit me, baby, I promise.”

The anger in his gaze disintegrated fractionally, replaced by confusion. “Then why do you have a black eye?” He demanded, still coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump into a brawl to defend your honor.

“I gave it to myself,” you admitted in a small voice, cringing at the admission and how stupid it sounded.

“What?” He asked, the anger completely gone as his expression morphed into one of bewilderment.

Taking a deep breath, you said, “I was walking over to my car after work and I was scrolling through Instagram, not paying attention to where I was going and I walked into a pole.” You tensed, warily awaiting his reaction to this new piece of information.

“You…walked… into a…. pole?” He struggled to get out.

Hesitantly, you nodded, looking up into his face and waiting for his response as he processed what had really happened.

Suddenly, a booming laugh escaped his mouth as he finally understood what was going on. Before you could say anything else, though, he pulled you into his arms, crushing you to his chest. “Oh, thank God!” He exclaimed. “I mean, I’m not happy that you walked into a pole and got hurt,” he backtracked. “I’m just relieved no one hurt you. Just the thought of that happening made me want to go out and hunt that miserable piece of scum that would dare put their hands on you.”

“Nope,” you murmured, placing a kiss on his chest before nestling your face into his shirt. “No pieces of scum involved here, just me and my usual trail of bad luck.”

He chuckled, stroking your hair, still holding you close to him. “Only you would this happen to,” he stated matter of factly and you couldn’t even argue. It was true. This would only happen to you.

Placing your chin on his chest, you looked up at him and pouted. The anger and confusion that had adorned his face only a few moments previously were completely washed away and replaced with amusement as he grinned down at you. “Don’t laugh at me,” you whined. “It hurts really bad. Someone might as well have punched me in the face.”

“Aww, my poor baby,” he cooed, placing soft kisses all over your face, being careful of the areas that were swollen and bruised. “I’m sorry for making fun of you, but you have to admit that this situation is pretty hilarious. I was about to burst into a fit of rage, only come to find out that my lovely girlfriend somehow walked straight into a pole and gave herself a big ol’ shiner.”

You cracked a smile. “Okay,” you admitted. “It’s a little funny. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmured. “Why don’t you take a seat on the couch and pick something to watch while I get you some ice and something to eat and we can spend the evening cuddling?” He offered. “How does that sound?”

You grinned before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “That sounds perfect.”

“Okay, you relax and I’ll be right back,” he instructed, squeezing you sweetly before heading into the kitchen.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He asked, turning back to you briefly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked, facing him once again.

“Please try not to walk into any more poles in the future,” he pleaded. “I can’t stand to see you hurt, even if it is by your own doing. I can’t go beating up all the different poles you come across.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’ll do my best.”

#shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #magicalmarauder #magicalmaraudermasterlist #shawn mendes #shawn mendes drabble #mendes army

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taenamseok · 6 years

Text

The Moonlight Chronicles

Masterlist

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Tragedy is normal for a superhero. However, you were not sad about your past. Anger had swelled since you were younger, and something has finally snapped.

Roles

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Chapter Five

The next morning you head over to the tailor you've had since you first moved in with James. Margo Ashton, world renowned superhero tailor, has made all of your suits. You don't trust anyone else with your outfits. Your taxi pulls up to the mansion, and you pay the fee and step out. You type your pin to the gate lock and the gate slides open. You ring the doorbell, the chimes echoing through the house. You wait a few minutes until you hear the door click, the tall, thin woman being revealed with a puff of smoke. "Y/N, darling, what are you doing here?" She asks, pulling you inside.

You both sit down on her uncomfortable leather couch, her pouring you a freshly made cup of tea. "Well, Margo, you know I trust you, right? That I tell you everything?" You ask and she nods. "Spill, honey, you know my lips are sealed." She says, fake zipping her lips and tossing the key. "Well, something happened, and I need a new suit." You tell her. "What, did you get in a bad fight? Is your old suit ruined?" She asks, concerned more about the suit than your well being. "No, the suit is fine. Um, you know how it's rare to have two powers?" You ask and she nods. "Well, I do. A new one appeared so now I need a suit to match it." You confess, and her eyes widen. "You have a new power? What is it?" She cries in shock and excitement. "Influence." You mumble.

"Influence. Wow, that's very rare. But, it is interesting. What kind of suit were you thinking?" She asks. "Maybe something violet? With a dark purple cape? And a headpiece, gloves and mask." You say and she nods. "I think I have an idea. Come back tomorrow morning and I'll have it ready." She replies. "Thank you, Margo. And you won't tell anyone?" "I promise. Your secret is safe with me." She smiles.

You go to the wig shop, picking up a beautiful violet one, long with soft curls. "Its perfect." You say to yourself.

The next morning you go back, ringing the bell again to be greeted and dragged to her workshop. She pushes you down into the plush armchair, tiptoeing excitedly over to the mannequin draped in a plain white sheet. "Are you ready?" She asks, practically bouncing up and down. You giggle and nod. She rips the sheet off revealing a skin tight suit, much like your old one, but with violet and purple undertones. A purple headband wraps around the head of the mannequin, long tails of silk waving in the back due to the fan. Its simple, but gorgeous, and you couldn't be happier. "Margo, you've outdone yourself, again. Thank you." You smile, pulling her into a tight hug. "How much do I owe you?" You ask, pulling your wallet out of your purse, but she puts a hand up.

"No no, darling. You know I haven't made you pay since Falco passed. You're my special client." She says. "Thank you, really." You sigh, hugging her again. She packs up the outfit and hands you the box. "I should get going, I've got big plans tonight." You say with a smirk and she nods. You step out the door and down to your waiting taxi when she calls out to you. "Oh, tell those handsome allies of yours to get their sweet asses back here soon, I need something good to look at." She shouts. You turn back and smile, the mention of those assholes causing anger to swell within you again. "Oh, I'll see them soon." You mumble to yourself.

You model your new outfit and wig in the mirror, the cape and headband flowing as you spin around. You slide on the levitation boots James had given you a few years ago, happy that they still fit. You pull on the black gloves that reach up to your elbows. You looked good, and felt good too. You were ready to make them pay.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, the cool streets bathed in the dim moonlight from the waxing crescent moon. Wind howls, your cape billowing behind you as you hover above the street, right across from the conference room you've grown so accustom to. "Heroes of Moonlight City, show yourselves!" You call through the bluetooth microphone hanging from your ear. Civilians have gathered in the street below you, some staring at you in shock and others looking expectantly at the glass doors.

The men file out of the building, Boss being last. Sparrow clicks his wings, soaring in the air to meet your level. You can see Boss squinting, and you laugh. "Stop trying to read my mind, Boss. You're pathetic." You chuckle and he straightens out. "Yes, mistress." He says, blank stare becoming all too familiar to you. "Who are you and what do you want?" He calls out. "My name is Mistress, and I want you to suffer." You smirk.

Sparrow flies towards you, but you stop him. "Stand down, Birdie, land and destroy your wings." He stops mid flight. "Yes, mistress." He says as he lands, taking off his gear and stomping on it until it's a pile of scrap metal. "What? No! My wings!" He cries, falling to his knees in horror.

You look down at Bolt, whose looking between you and Sparrow. "Bolt, go home and don't go back outside until the morning." You sigh. "Yes, mistress." He says, walking away. You watch him, your heart shattering with each step. As you're caught off guard, you gasp as your leg is barricaded in ice. You see Freeze standing there, teeth clenched and hands pointed at you. 'I can't melt the ice, then they'll know about my fire power and my identity will be blown' you think to yourself. "Freeze, freeze yourself." You say, turning towards the building behind you and kicking it, breaking the ice. When you turn back he's coated head to toe in ice.

"Speed Demon, run home to visit with your family." "Yes, mistress." He says, speeding away. Shift is up next, taking the form of a t-rex, teeth barred in front of you. "Oh, no, Shift. Turn into a kitten." You tell him, and he makes a strange growling noise before shrinking down. You land on the asphalt, walking to pick up his new small, furry form. "Kinesis, go home and take care of this kitty." You say, handing him over to the older male. "Yes, mistress." He says. You're already starting to get tired of that phrase.

With all of the other guys taken care of, you walk straight up to Boss. "What is it exactly that you want?" He asks, trying his best not to seem scared. "I want your alliance to fall. I want you to suffer. However, I also want power. So here's the deal, you will make me the leader of the alliance, you will not disobey me, well, technically you can't." You demand. "Yes, mistress." He says with a gulp.

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rokutouxei · 6 years

Text

before you go

touken ranbu kashuu kiyomitsu | slight kiyosani | 3471| [ao3]

the moon is a perfect sphere in the cloudless sky, the crickets’ cries a constant sound in the otherwise overwhelming silence. kashuu stands outside an inn. inside, some men are planning a fire.

this time, he enters in silence, slides the door open with barely a sound. the patrons nearest the entrance don’t seem to notice him. the door clicks shut. his heels make a steady clack-clack-clack on the wooden floors as he heads straight for the stairs. he has someplace else to go. up.

the stairs are slippery with blood. deep brown stained in maroon. kashuu tightens his hold around the hilt of him as the room comes to view, door ajar. he can see the light blue haori stark in a room of dead bodies, all black and red. okita souji, coughing into his hand. his other hand resting on the hilt of a fractured sword.

the floorboard creaks when kashuu’s foot presses onto it. he peers inside the room and it finally comes into view. himself. laid on the bloodied floor, headguard split in two, with his neck bent in an irregular angle, his own blue haori in tatters. broken.

the moment he steps inside the room, kashuu feels like he’s falling.

kashuu kiyomitsu finally wakes up to the stifling summer heat. he turns to one side to see yasusada deep asleep. he kicks off his blanket to one side into an ungraceful heap, before shuffling upright to head to the door. just the sensation of the sliding door giving way under his hand as it opens brings him straight back to the nightmare. it’s a good thing the humid breeze of air shakes him out of his trance. kashuu stumbles out of his room with a sigh.

he tiptoes to the kitchen for a glass of water, not knowing you can see him.

the first one in the shinsengumi to leave is horikawa. kashuu teases that the blue stripes in the garb given by the saniwa seem to suit him too nicely, resembling his own coat a little too well, but that’s only his way of saying he’ll miss the wakizashi. kashuu is the one who ties the garb around his companion’s back and makes him promise not to get lost again. “find your way back home,” kashuu says. horikawa promises to return stronger than he’s ever been.

to those who awaited his return nervously, it seemed like forever, but he does not take long; horikawa returns before the monsoon rolls in. true to his word; he’s faster, lighter on his feet, but also niftier, better at strategy. izuminokami proposes they switch earrings in celebration of his newfound strength. horikawa says izuminokami need not look too far out for his as well.

over a few bottles of sake, horikawa talks about the flow of time with a smile, says how unforgivingly quick it is; from the fire in hijikata’s eyes the first time he saw the wakizashi, to the last thing horikawa remembers, water. horikawa is now afraid of nothing. it makes kashuu proud.

and so the next who leaves is izuminokami. not one to be outdone, of course, by his beloved partner. the leaves of trees are as red as the silk of his clothes when he leaves. kashuu lets izuminokami steal all the food in his plate, not letting the uchigatana go until he’s promised to spar with him when he returns. “don’t get too strong,” kashuu jokes, to which izuminokami cackles and tells kashuu to watch out for him when he returns.

kashuu does. when he returns, the youthful glow in izuminokami’s eyes have faded into a mature glimmer. like how fiery autumn gives way to a subdued, elegant winter. he talks about hijikata with less blind faith and more deep respect now. the swing of his sword is stronger, but so, too, is his heart. the shinsengumi baby brother isn’t quite a baby anymore. when horikawa and izuminokami look eye-to-eye, they seem unstoppable.

much to the surprise of everyone, this time, izuminokami’s stories are filled with much less fervor for hijikata-san. instead, he talks about the age of the samurai; the tiny bits of it he’s lived through, what little of history he has had the opportunity to be a part of. he reflects over a different age, the only age he’s ever known. the age that had shaped him. izuminokami has come to terms with history; kashuu sees nothing but pride on him when he dons the haori on his shoulders.

nagasone leaves shortly after his brother, urashima, returns. he says it’s because he pledged to work even harder than an original. before kashuu can even open his mouth, nagasone roughly ruffles his hair before saying he’s leaving shinsengumi in kashuu’s hands. “how do i even say no to nagasone-san?” kashuu answers back; nagasone laughs heartily and pats his shoulder. kashuu is there to witness nagasone leave together with the howling wind of a snowstorm.

when he returns, the shinsengumi sword sit at the engawa overlooking the snow-covered garden, all attentively listening to the stories nagasone has to tell. kondou-san was like their father, the one man who protected them, guided them, and watched them grow. they cradle each story close to their heart. nagasone sings a drinking song, and tells them how lucky they and the rest of the shinsengumi are, to have been loved by a man like kondou-san. kashuu sees the confidence in how nagasone now holds himself a little differently, with a little more pride, because he knows kondou-san would have been proud of him; regardless of what kind of sword he is.

the winter leaves yasusada restless, says the silence is a little too loud for his liking, and he’s already gone up to ask for permission to leave before nagasone even finds his way back home. he doesn’t get sent off soon, at least not until the snow melts, because the citadel needs manpower, and it’s simply too busy. when he does leave, he makes kiyomitsu promise not to push himself too hard while he’s gone. “shouldn’t i be the one telling you that?” kiyomitsu asks, before putting on the wide-brimmed hat on top of yasusada’s head. yasusada only laughs before he steps away to disappear back into time.

the sakura tree had already long lost its blossoms when yasusada finally returns. kiyomitsu slaps his back a little too hard to be just friendly and complains how he took so long. yasusada’s hair is longer (“it’s so messy! look at all these split ends!” “i’m sorry, kiyomitsu…”) and his eyes have gotten a look that has made him seem much older. but he’s still the same old yasusada, kiyomitsu realizes, when right after announcing his arrival to the saniwa, he immedi away ately excitedly talks about his experience during training; as a student of tennen-rishin ryu, then as a member of the shinsengumi, then as an assistant in sendagaya—watching the rise and fall of okita souji, being there for him through it all.

the first night he’s home, kiyomitsu can’t sleep because it’s the first time someone’s rolled a futon next to his in a long while. he turns to his side and when he sees yasusada too is still awake, he asks: “didn’t you push yourself a little too hard on your training?” yasusada only smiles at him from under the sheet and says that was the last he would do for okita-kun, as a form of thanks for all the years that had passed, because now, he has someone else he wants to protect. a reason to live. kiyomitsu only mumbles an mhm in response, wondering who that might be.

kashuu wonders what stories he’ll tell if ever he leaves the citadel for training. what will he do out there—what things will he want to return to? what things will he want to relive again, to experience once more that will make him stronger?

if he had the chance to return in the arms of his previous master, could he make himself worth it this time around?

finally, after what seemed like an impossibly long trek, kiyomitsu gets to the kitchen without a hitch. he downs a glass of cold, cold water, relishing in the cool sensation that runs down his throat. outside, the hydrangeas are blooming in beautiful shades of blue and purple. most of the times when he wakes up from nightmares such as these, he wonders if it really was his fault, that day, at the very beginning of his end. if he had really been abandoned because he wasn’t strong enough.

today, he’s sure the answer is yes.

tomorrow, he’ll ask for your audience.

kiyomitsu is your citadel’s prized secretary. the very, very first sword warrior you ever had in your ranks. the first one sent to battle, the first one sent to repairs. the first one to join you in the smith. the one who has stood by your side this entire time. so when he asks for an audience so early in the morning, his prompt “there’s something i have to talk to you about” matched with his eyes sunken from a lack of sleep, you let the worry pool in your stomach as you usher him in your office.

he’s at his top form today, as he is any other day in the citadel. not a single flyaway hair, his nails polished evenly, his tasuki cleanly ribboned in the middle of his back. but there’s a wound on his lower lip from him biting too harshly down on it for too long. the urge to wrap him in your arms until he’s okay floods you. but this isn’t what kiyomitsu needs, and you know this.

“how can i help you today, kiyomitsu?” you ask, doing your best to keep your voice even. you hope nothing but loving concern is on your expression. kiyomitsu needn’t worry about you before himself right now.

“there’s something i want to ask you,” he says. it fills the space between the two of you.

you try not to make it obvious how worried you are. “sure, go ahead.”

“am i—” he begins, but his voice falters, gets caught in his throat—“am i strong enough?”

oh no.

worry instantly fills you as you scramble for reasons he’d think otherwise.

but first, you answer him. right from the bottom of your heart: “you’ve always been strong enough.” you want to go on a tangent and tell him you’ve seen him grow into who he currently is. want to show him his strengths. but this is not the time for this.

“hah, i doubt that,” he chuckles. you know he’s holding back from recounting every single time he’s gotten injured in battle, or failed in a sortie, or lost resources. you can feel the weight in his eyes. “but thank you, aruji. the flattery is appreciated.”

“i don’t do flattery,” you say. “is there something wrong? what is this about?”

kiyomitsu wonders where he should start. the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy? the nightmares that haunt him whenever the hydrangeas start to bloom? the worry that soon he’s going to be left behind once more? the feeling that he’ll never be strong enough at this rate?

when he doesn’t answer, you do. “i saw you last night,” you admit, “from my room, when you got out your room, for water.”

“i was just parched,” he tries to cop out. “it’s summer after all, and—”

you shake your head. “yasusada told me, you know. of your nightmares.”

that darned—

“he shouldn’t have. it’s nothing,” he quickly dismisses. he’s not weak, he says. it’s just some pesky nightmares, they’ll go away, they’ll—

you reach out from where you’re sitting and put your hand on his. “it’s not nothing,” you say. “you shouldn’t be having nightmares.”

“maybe i deserve them,” he offhandedly comments with a deadpan chuckle. he takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “they give me time to think. about my weaknesses. about the things i can fix. they’re not that bad.”

“not that bad?” you ask, pulling your hand away from his. “kiyomitsu. this is the third year this has been happening to you.”

his eyes narrow. were you underestimating him? “it doesn’t matter. i’m not here to be comfortable. i’m here to fight, i’m a touken danshi, i’m not supposed to be—”

you interrupt him with an embrace before he can continue with what you’re saying. “you’re so, so strong, kiyomitsu,” you start. “you’re not just a sword now, you’re a human too.” you press a hand against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. “strength doesn’t mean you have to be in pain all the time. you’re already strong as it is. whether it’s what you show—the sharpness of your blade, your cunning—or everything else that you hide for the sake of others. each part of you is strong and i am filled with pride to be able to see you become who you are right now. it has been my greatest honor.”

for a moment he is dumbstruck, and you catch how a faint pink glow dusts his cheeks and ears. it is only when he wraps his arms around you in response that you realize he’s shaking—is he crying?

“kiyomitsu,” you continue, “you don’t deserve those nightmares. i wish there was something i can do to help you stop having them. i’d take them all if i can, i—”

“you don’t need to,” kiyomitsu mumbles. his voice is shaking, too. “i just need to be stronger. i’m having nightmares because i know im not strong enough. i feel like this isn’t as strong as i can possibly be.”

“it isn’t,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him again, patting his head in a calm manner. “it isn’t, because i know this isn’t your limit. you’re very strong, and you can also be stronger.”

the question hangs in the air without being said. you won’t raise it until he asks it himself. leaving the present to deal with the past—on their own—is a very taxing process, very draining; but most importantly it is a personal choice.

then he voices it, and it sounds even more final than you’ve imagined.

“will you let me go out to training?”

you can’t deny him, not like this. not when he desperately needs it, not when he deserves it, not when he has to deal with his demons. but the moment the words come out of his mouth, your throat tightens and suddenly you can’t answer.

instead, you hug him even tighter, almost enough to bruise.

“if it’s no good, it’s fine,” he says against your shoulder, his face hidden from view. you wonder what’s painted on it—worry? discontent? “i understsand if it’s not worth it, i’ll just—”

“will you ever let me finish anything i have to say?” you tease. you pull away from him, his crying face coming into full view; face flushed, tear tracks down his eyes. you raise a hand to wipe them away. “it’s not you whose no good; it’s me.”

“that’s not true,” he says.

“well, it sort of is,” you counter. “i’m just a little scared, is all.”

“of what? i won’t change history. and i promise to come back.”

you nod. your eyes start to hurt with oncoming tears. “i know you will. it’s just that—you’ve been watching over me the entire time, from the very start. you’re my starter sword, after all. it’s just… i don’t know how i’ll do without you. i’m worried.”

kiyomitsu’s heart swells with love and pride. he pats you on the head gently before cradling your face in his hand. “i won’t be gone long,” he says, “and don’t worry about that, because i know you’ll do amazing.”

“you won’t know for sure.”

“i’ve known you for as long as you’ve known me,” he rebuts. “and i know that even in times of extreme stress, you’re able to do a good job smoothly. with or without me.”

“you don’t know that.”

“i do!” he says, laughing now. “can you stop trying to deny every compliment i say? how would you feel if i did that to you?”

“you did, though, earlier,” you answer back, this time smiling, too. you’re crying now, too, but it doesn’t matter, because this is kiyomitsu. “i guess like starter sword, like saniwa?”

he pulls you into another embrace, much tighter than earlier, filled with more assurance. “aruji.”

“yes, kiyomitsu?”

“i’ll be home soon. i won’t take long. and i’ll be watching over you from wherever i am,” he says.

“promise?”

“i promise,” he says. “so you be good and wait for me, okay?”

you nod. “i will.”

“and don’t cry when i leave… it’ll just make it harder to go!”

“i will, i will,” you laugh.

the two of you relish each other’s presence, finding comfort in your silences, sharing teary-eyed smiles.

the nightmares don’t elude him even on the night before he leaves. everything is too vivid to him still, when he wakes up. the perfect sphere of the moon. the hum of the crickets. the sticky summer breeze. the smell of blood on the walls.

but it doesn’t matter, because you’re the one fretting over him, putting his garb on him, double checking everything he has to bring. when you’re content, you push him out of his room to the garden, where everyone is waiting to send kiyomitsu off for training.

yasusada embraces kiyomitsu and makes him swear not to do anything reckless. izuminokami ruffles kiyomitsu’s hair (“did you just mess it up?! kanesada!!!” “i said i’m sorry, i’m sorry!!”) and tells him he better get really strong out there. nagasone says he’ll be watching over everyone while he’s not around. horikawa offers a high five and asks kiyomitsu to come back home safe. midare comes up to kiyomitsu and says that as the second sword in the citadel, he guesses he’ll have to take on kiyomitsu’s role as the cutest sword while he’s gone (“only while i’m gone though.” “of course, kashuu-san~”). tsurumaru teases him and says he better surprise everyone on how he’ll be like when he returns. the tantous—all of them—come up to wish kiyomitsu safe travels. monoyoshi hands him a four-leaf clover. iwatooshi carries him up on his shoulders for a moment. ishikirimaru and kousetsu bless him with a prayers.

he’s been here from the start; he knows everyone by heart, seen them grow into the strong swords they are today. all of them know how much they are all indebted to him. kiyomitsu is so loved in this citadel, and it shows.

but out of everyone in the citadel, the one kiyomitsu loves the most is you, so after everyone is done showering him with well-wishes, it is only the two of you who head to the machine that will throw him back into the past. he holds your hand gently in his as if you’ll break until you disappear from everyone else’s sight.

he wonders what kind of sights he’ll have to witness again in the past in order to get stronger. if he’ll have to see himself again, shattered into two, his sky blue haori drenched in red. if he’ll need to remember what it felt like to have hands moist with blood wrapped around his hilt.

finally, it is just the two of you, alone, in private. he places a hand on the machine before turning around to face you. just like you’ve promised him, you’re smiling, not a single tear in sight.

“take care out there, kiyomitsu.”

he smiles. “i’ll be back stronger and more deserving to protect you, aruji.”

“i’ll be waiting for you, then.”

you turn on the machine with a touch of your hand. but before kiyomitsu disappears into a ray of light, he pulls you into an embrace and whispers something in your ear. he presses a kiss to your cheek before stepping into the machine’s magic.

“ittekimasu,” he mouths.

“itterasshai,” you say back.

in a moment, kiyomitsu is gone, his last smile to you etched into your memory.

and as much as you already miss him, you know he’ll come back stronger and even braver, all your fears dissipate into the air. now, you’re just excited to meet him once again.

もっと可愛くなるから､俺を待っててね?

m o t t o k a w a i k u n a r u k a r a , o r e w o m a t t e t e n e ?

i ’ l l b e c o m e e v e n c u t e r , s o w a i t f o r m e o k a y ?

#touken ranbu #tkrb #kashuu kiyomitsu #kiwame #yay i made it in time!#fic #rating:T

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