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writingficsanddaydreams · 1 year

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Little Paintings

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: surely the extremely observant and powerful warlord of the sea won’t notice your little paintings all over his castle…

Content: pure fluff, with just a hint of romance. reader is written as autistic.

A/N: I recently watched a TikTok where somebody was painting cute little designs all around their house until their spouse noticed. It made me think of this idea. Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago. Enjoy!

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You like painting. Always have, always will.

However, you’re not sure if the fearsome Dracule Mihawk will appreciate it so much as you, not when you’re painting inside his crystal ware cabinet. Especially not when you didn’t bother to get his permission.

Not that you’ll stop.

If anything, it makes you determined to work quicker, nudging more of the delicate wine glasses aside to you can lean in and finish the adding paint strokes to the fine wood, creating a minuscule image of a little bottle in the back corner of the cabinet.

Is it silly for a fully grown adult to be doing this? Perhaps. Yet you can’t help but smile as you add the final touch to the tiny little label on the bottle, a small swirl of purple paint to match the label of the wine he shared with you yesterday.

Perfect.

When you extract yourself and carefully push the wine glasses back in place, the painting is completely hidden. You have just enough time to hustle back through the chilly castle halls and tuck your paints in your room before he returns inside from his sword practice.

He gives you quite the long look when you settle in the kitchen later that day, those piercing yellow eyes seeming to cut through your surface and see so deep. And though you feel your breath catch—as it often does around this formidable man—you force yourself to smile innocently.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I will be sailing out for supplies this afternoon,” he says after a long moment.

You nod and draw your knees to your chin. “Do you need me along?”

“No need for that.”

You sigh with relief, watching as he turns back to his cooking. You don’t dislike people, but you do prefer your solitude. You always have, ever since you were a child. It’s why you feel content to stay here now.

That, and how utterly delightful it is to watch him cook.

He’s terribly handsome when cooking, though you’re fairly sure the man would look handsome doing anything. His knife seem to blur as he cuts up the vegetables, then begins to prep the meat. When he reaches for the pans, his cross necklace shifting against his finely cut chest, your heart skips a beat.

Yet he simply grabs a pan and gets to work, seeming to not notice the tiny cross shaped sword painted just behind where the pots hang.

Really, it’s foolish of you to do this. Yes, art has always been a passion for you, but you are a guest here. A guest he has allowed to stay for some months, and a guest who has shared just enough casual, accidental touches that you hope it might become something more, but still a guest.

Still, you’re curious. Just how much can you paint before the great swordsman notices?

You’ve been at it for a week now, ever since you found the dusty little bottles of paint tucked away in a forgotten storeroom. You use every moment he’s out to sneak little paintings around the castle, none bigger than your thumb.

There’s the little map against the doorframe of your room, like the treasure map you were following before you stumbled on this island.

Then there’s the small ape painted onto one table leg in the dining hall, a far less fearsome version of the beasts that chased away your captain and crew when you all landed here. You recall how frustrated you were that they left you behind, a frustration that has long since faded now that you can count on the safety of Dracule Mihawk’s castle.

He walks past you now, a hand brushing briefly against your arm before he continues on to grab the spices across the kitchen.

Not an accident, surely. Nothing this man does is accidental.

That makes you think of the minuscule wanted poster you painted in the corner of your doorframe yesterday, in honor of the fear you first felt when you realized just who inhabited this place. Funny how frightened you were that first day. And the second day.

…and the third.

By the forth, however, you had figured out he likely wasn’t going to kill you.

By the fifth you’d determined that so long as you didn’t irritate him, he didn’t seem inclined to make you leave either. In fact, as days went on, you became fairly certain he didn’t mind your company.

Which is why you now play this foolish game of sneakily painting designs all around his castle.

You always considered yourself clever. Yet apparently all it takes are a few “accidental” touches and heavy looks for you to throw all your caution to the wind. Teasing a warlord, vandalizing his castle… such a perfect plan for long term survival.

Still, you do truly enjoy painting.

Your favorite are the flowers you painted along a small crack in the stones of the great hall, colored with a yellow that makes you think of his stunning eyes, the eyes that have over the last few months shifted from disinterest and disdain to… something else.

Something that makes you hope perhaps you won’t always be just a guest.

You’re not brave enough to make any moves yourself—never really have been when it comes to matters of the heart—but that won’t stop you from seeing just where these lingering glances and soft touches might eventually go.

Those same eyes stare at you again now as you make your way to the dining hall and pick at your food, separating the small bits of tomato from the rest of your meal. You bite back a smile as his gaze cuts down to your plate and he takes note of the rejected vegetable. Knowing him, he won’t use it in your meals again.

You honestly don’t know how a man so observant has not noticed your paintings yet.

“Do you need anything from the village?” Mihawk asks, startling you from your thoughts.

“I’m alright, I think,” you say. Given the nearest village is several islands away, you take a moment to think about it truly, but everything you need has been provided for you already. If anything, you’re far more comfortable here than you ever were with the crew you sailed alongside, a crew that only cared about you for your rough mapmaking skills—your least favorite thing to paint if you’re being honest—and were quick to abandon you when the first hint of danger appeared.

He nods and turns to his own plate. You try not to stare at the wall behind him, where you‘ve recently painted a tiny little figure sitting in a tiny little chair wearing a tiny black wide brimmed hat, hidden just at the base of the dining hall floorboards.

Trying not to giggle about it keeps you distracted through most of lunch.

“I’ll be off then,” Mihawk says as you both finish your meals, rising from the table.

“Be safe.”

Ah yes, because you need to tell the strongest swordsman in the world to be safe. You mentally kick yourself, but feel better when he offers you one of his rare almost smiles, even as he pauses by your chair.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says, that confidence that you’ve come to admire woven through every inch of his words. “I highly doubt there will be anyone to challenge me. Truly a shame. Oh, as a note…”

“Yes?”

Your breathe hitches as he reaches out, gently taking your hand and lifting it towards him. You’re hyper aware of how strong his grip is. So powerful, yet intentionally gentle. Of how piercing his gaze is, those eyes that are so hard to meet, even as they set your heart racing. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against it.

Oh.

When he lowers your hand, he’s… smiling. Not just that almost smirk, but a real smile. Your heart lurches again at the sight. When he speaks, it takes you a long moment to process his words around the pounding of your heart.

“The entry hall could use a few more flowers, perhaps, if you must paint all over the walls.”

Then he’s off, leaving you stunned where you sit. Your draw your hand close to yourself, staring at the skin he kissed.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but on the back of your hand is just the slightest smudge of dried purple paint from earlier.

As you run a finger along the paint, you find yourself hesitating. Then before you know it, you’ve risen from your chair and are hurrying to follow, to catch Mihawk before he leaves the castle.

Perhaps you need some supplies after all.

More paints. New brushes. A proper tray for mixing your colors… and maybe even a true kiss from the warlord you’ve fallen for.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece

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grave-z-boy · 5 months

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Nanami Kento x Male!reader

Paring: Nanami Kento x male!husband!reader

Summary: reader and Namami come home after over a year in a hospital.

Warning: relatively anti-climactic, everybody lives/nobody dies Au, post-shibuya incident, mentions of gojo and the first years, mentions of extended hospital stays, injury (to children and adults), and medically induced coma, short fic.

Word count: 1069

A/n: was I asked to write this? No, do I have 30+ request in my inbox, yes. Do I even write for jkk on a regular basis? No. And yet here we are.

The car ride home was deafeningly quiet. 15 months away from it made it feel…distant. You still went there, every other day or so, but you were never inside for more than ten minutes, you didn't eat or sleep there. Your books were untouched, your refrigerator was emptied months ago when you realized all the food had gone bad, your bed was still perfectly made, as he had made it that morning all those months ago.

You breathed in as you reached a familiar stop light. Tapping your finger against the steering wheel as you held it.

“Are you nervous?” was the first thing Nanami said since you left the hospital.

“A little.” you breathed out, “I wish I took better care of it- I know you loved it, now it's dusty and…sad.”

He let out a small laugh- the road was clear so you took a moment to glance at him, that beautiful smile, in spite of everything. You found yourself smiling too.

“It wasn't the house that I loved.”

His hand rested on top of yours on the middle console, his thumb running along the side of your hand for a moment before turning it over and locking your fingers together.

“Stop that..” you muttered, because that's what you were used to, affection and intimacy are hard in such a clinical setting. Especially in a hospital full of people with…traditional values.

He didn't stop, not letting go until you pulled into the driveway of your shared home, only to reach for you again when you got out of the car.

He's nervous, he's been nervous a lot in these 15 months, you couldn't blame him. Shibuya was…a lot. It's still completely blocked off, you are surprised the whole station hasn't been torn down due to the damage.

You knew it weighed heavily on his mind, not just about himself, but the first year- Gojo- everyone who got hurt that night. The hospital limited the amount of people who could visit him after having a room full of other patients crowd into his room- god, did he even know that happened? He was put in a medically induced coma on his first day there. People say that you can still be aware, but does he know just how much love was poured into his room that day? You remember Nobara’s face, covered in tears, trying her best to make the best out of a bad situation, she talked to him about matching eye patches of all things- she threw a fit when they made her leave.

Yuji only needed a few stitches, that didn't stop him from being there every day for nearly three months before he had to go back to school. He treated the room like his own personal space, a jacket thrown over the chair, homework scattered across the little portable table, food and drinks littering the place- it got so bad a nurse had to threaten him with a permanent ban. He kept the spotless.

Megumi didn't visit much, and when he did, it was with Gojo. The two of them were practically attached at the hip after Megumi’s stay at the hospital. A concussion- on top of several broken ribs and a pierced lung. He’s back at school now too, and Gojo is back to teaching.

Your hand shook slightly as you unlocked the door- you're nervous too, you were just here a couple of days ago, you shouldn't be this nervous, this was your house, everything was fine.

Opening the door to be met with nice, cold air- you blinked. Your air conditioner broke almost a year ago- after you left it running for almost a month with no break or no end in sight it crapped out on you, and now it was magically alive again.

You stepped into the house with caution. The air was clear, not even close to the dusty mess you'd left it. Any of the visible partials in the air were gone. The curtains were drawn and the sun shined in through every window. You walked further in. Passed the pristine living room and into the kitchen, where what could only be described as a mountain of gifts sitting on the counter.

“Ken, who was in our house?” you asked, stepping back.

“I asked Gojo to clean up before we left the hospital-” you groaned “-I didn't realize he would be so…gracious.”

You picked up a small pink gift bag from the bottom of the pile. The tag had Nobara’s name written on it, it wasn't her usual nice, practiced handwriting, it was off center a bit, and drooped down at the edge, but it was still distinctly her writing.

Reaching in, then pulling out a small cluster of black fabric. You unraveled it, revealing a black eye patch, with a dark red rose pattern on it.

“This is yours, from Nobara.”

He blinked before taking it. The one he wore now was stark white, given to him by the hospital. He slipped it off without a word- you never realized how quickly you’d grown used to his scars- once they finally healed that is. It was just…normal for you know.

He put the new eye patch on, and it honestly looked a million times better than the old one.

With a smile, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hand and pulling him towards you. You kissed his cheek, then his lips-only briefly- before saying, “It looks good.”

That made him smile, even if it was small.

You both decided that the gifts could wait until later. Heading upstairs for a well deserved nap.

Gojo actually sucked at making beds, but you could tell he tried his best- or he made his students do it, one or the other. It didn't matter either way, the comforter was untucked and you crawled into bed with your husband for the first time in over a year.

Your cheek pressed against his chest, you realized he was still wearing his jacket- and so were you. You let out a small huff of laughter but made you move to ask him to take it off or take off your own. You watched as his blinking slowed, then stopped completely, his arms wrapped loosely around you, as yours were around him. His deep breathing and the near rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you to sleep.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male y/n #nanami kento x male reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #✮ — z boy

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ladykailitha · 7 months

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Icarus Part 2

Hello! This story is coming along quite nicely. This part originally was part of the first chapter, but it got so long I split it up for Tumblr.

Dustin hyperfixates sooo hard in this. Eddie gets annoyed.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Dustin leapt to his feet and handed the magazine to Eddie. “I do have their first album. It’s really good. My favorite is “Brother”. It’s just so touching.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and nodded, forcing himself not to look at Robin just then.

He came back with his Walkman and a pair of speakers. He got it all set up and pressed play. Then while they were listening to the CD, he dashed back to his room.

“I haven’t gotten their second album yet,” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran back. Moments later he came out with a couple of rolled posters.

“I have more of their posters in my dormroom but I bought these a few months ago and haven’t put them up yet.”

He unrolled one of them and it was the album cover blown up large. It had four men in long hooded coats and masks. There was definitely a color theme for each of the members of the band. The drummer was all in black, the guitarist in red, the bassist in blue, and the lead singer in white.

“What’s with the masks?” Robin asked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder.

Dustin bounced up and down. “That’s part of their personas. They’re fallen angels. Well, and titan. The bassist is named after the titan of the night sky, Astraeus. But all the others are named after angels.”

Eddie winced at the poster. “They’re a little much, don’t you think?”

“Like there aren’t other metal bands wear makeup or masks before them,” Dustin said rolling his eyes.

Eddie wrinkled his nose. He did know. It was actually something that was really prevalent in the genre for awhile. He just thought it was gimmicky and took away from the actual music.

Music that was coming out of Dustin’s Walkman in beautiful waves. That brought Eddie up short. They were good. Like amazingly good. “Whoa.”

Dustin beamed. “I know, right?”

Steve made a twisted kind of frown. “I mean it’s great if you like that sort of thing.”

Dustin whirled on Steve like a viper sensing its dinner. “Just because you don’t like metal, Steve,” he huffed in derision, “doesn’t mean that you can just dismiss it.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and rolled his eyes.

Eddie snorted. “Nobody is dismissing anything, Dusty. In fact I would say that what Steve said was anything but dismissive.”

“I just don’t know why you don’t like metal,” Dustin replied with a heavy sigh. “I know that if you just listened to it, you would like it.”

This time the look Steve shared was with Robin. “I’ve listened to a lot of metal, remember? You’re the one that hacked my radio so that I couldn’t change it off the metal station.”

Dustin snorted. “Well at least Simon and Shane have taste.”

Simon Olsen and Shane Kendrick were two friends of Steve’s that had bonded over Corroded Coffin playing over the speakers of the coffee shop. Another thing that Dustin had insisted on. But Steve wasn’t about to tell Eddie that. Together with Spencer Peters, the four of them were almost as tight as the Corroded Coffin boys.

Eddie himself was conflicted about their relationship, if he was honest. Yeah, it was great that Steve had friends outside of the Party, but at same time, he suspected that at least one of them was gay or bisexual and he worried that they would swoop in and take Steve off the market before Eddie got up the courage.

That was a problem for future Eddie, present Eddie had to redirect Dustin before he began screaming at Steve all the reasons he should join the masses of fans for Corroded Coffin and now apparently The Fallen. Steve had a migraine and Dustin’s ranting would only make it worse.

Eddie smacked his shoulder. “Am I still taking you out with me in June to see your mom when I go visit Uncle Wayne?”

Dustin was happy to change tracks, and Steve mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Eddie.

“Yes! You have to take me,” Dustin insisted. “Ma got me tickets to see The Fallen in Indy while I’m there and I don’t want to miss it.”

“The band is going back on tour again so soon?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought they just got off a tour.”

“They did,” Dustin agreed. “But according to the press release, they said that they were trying to get as much hype for their current album as possible because music sales were down all over the place.”

Eddie nodded. He could see that. With a band as new as The Fallen, if they didn’t keep up the momentum they could lose a lot of fans between their first and second album. There was a reason a band’s second album is often called a ‘sophomore slump’ and if these guys wanted to avoid that, that meant touring nonstop for their second album.

He wished them well...provided they didn’t steal Dustin away from him and the guys. He turned to Steve. “So what are you and Robin going to be this summer? Anything fun?”

Robin scoffed. “No. They’ve got us back on tour, too. New management, they want us to shadow this band and basically make sure that everything they want is provided.”

Eddie and Dustin grimaced.

“That sucks!” Dustin huffed. “You guys just got home, why are they making you go so soon? Don’t they believe in breaks? Sheesh!”

Steve hugged him close. “I’m sorry, bud. I talked to your mom, though and she thinks that when you go back for the summer, she’s willing to let you apply for MIT for your masters.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up. “Wait, seriously?” Claudia had always been fearful that he would get into trouble, but she had seen how much work he had put into his school work and how much Steve didn’t need to be looking after the almost twenty year old.

Steve nodded. “Yup. That’s why she got you the tickets as a way to soothe her nerves a bit.”

Eddie looked over Dustin’s shoulder at Steve and they shared a sad smile. They would miss Dustin when he went out to Boston, but they knew he would shine out there. And that was worth more than all the stars in the sky.

Eddie left soon after, stating his own fatigue and even though Steve was sad to see him go, he wanted to sleep for the next three months. Dustin was staying over at his girlfriend’s that night which left him alone with Robin.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost ten and he looked up at Robin with his big puppy dog eyes and pouted.

She let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can go to bed. Provided you actually get a shower and brush your teeth. By that time it should be late enough for you to just crash.”

Steve sighed, but nodded his agreement. He got unsteadily to his feet and ambled over to his bedroom. Robin followed close behind.

She leaned against the door frame, watching Steve gather his things for his shower.

“So Dustin is a Fallen fan, huh,” she muttered.

Steve shrugged. “I guess so. This is the first of me hearing about it, so it must be new.”

She licked her lips. “And you aren’t worried?”

He stopped what he was doing and straightened up. “Why? Do you think there is a reason to be?”

Robin crossed her arms. “I mean his nickname growing up was ‘genius child’. It’s possible he could be a problem.”

Steve scoffed. “He’s also the one that harped on us being a couple for a few years there.”

She winced. She had even told him that she was gay and he still wouldn’t let it go. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

He walked over to the en suite bathroom and turned on the hot water. “I love that kid, but he has a few major blind spots when it comes to actual people.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “I’ll tighten up the defenses, but I think you’re right.”

“I am right some of the time,” Steve scoffed. “You do know that, don’t you?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I guess even a broken clock can be right twice a day.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at her and then began to strip. Robin just waved at him and wandered over to her side of the apartment. Well to call it that was an understatement on its sheer size. It would be better described as a penthouse.

It only had three bedrooms, but it had three bathrooms, a full sized kitchen, an actual dinning area, a living room. Steve’s studio was off to the side and always kept locked. It even had a god damned bio lock that only Robin and he could open.

He hated the secrecy and all the cloak and dagger bullshit but it was absolutely imperative.

But the room was massive and no one had clocked that as unusual. Steve sighed deeply. It was what it was and what it was, sucked.

****

To say that Eddie was annoyed was an understatement. The whole flight to Indy and the long drive to Hawkins was filled with nothing but talk about The Fallen and their latest album. It was shooting up the charts faster than Eddie could guess the Metallica song from a few hummed bars. Which was pretty damned fast.

Steve and Robin had already gone, so Eddie didn’t even have his favorite distraction when Dustin got on his latest hyperfixation.

Then the other shoe dropped when he pulled up to the Henderson’s driveway.

“You’re coming with me, right?” the little bastard asked, all pouty lip and puppy dog eyes.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to go with you?” Eddie huffed, more than little pissed the punk dared to ask.

Dustin rolled his eyes and started counting off on his fingers. “El and Mike won’t get in in time, Max and Lucas already have plans that night, her mom is getting married for the third time that day, and Will doesn’t like metal. He’s still a staunch alt rock fan.”

Eddie winced. And with Steve and Robin off to parts unknown, he really was Dustin’s last greatest hope. But he wasn’t going to give in that easy. He was going to make the butthead work for it. He crossed his arms and pouted.

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose, “I’m starting to wonder if Corroded Coffin is even on your radar anymore.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not true! Corroded Coffin is my number one. How could even suggest that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or chronologically?”

Dustin’s mouth closed with a snap. He ducked his head. “I haven’t stopped talking about The Fallen since you picked me up from Steve’s, huh?”

“Nope!”

He let out a slow breath. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m just so excited for this concert. According to Ma the tickets were really hard to get and now I don’t have anyone to go with me and I–” He sniffled.

“It’s just you know how you get with new things,” Eddie pointed out.

Dustin nodded. “I know. But I promise I still love Corroded Coffin. When are you guys going back into the studio?”

Eddie smiled for the first time that trip. “After I get back from visiting Wayne, I’ve got a couple songs already lined up for it.”

“And how many of those songs are about Steve?” Dustin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie cheeks colored a deep red. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go to that concert of yours and you don’t mention to anyone that I write songs about Steve, deal?”

Dustin tilted his head to side and looked up, tapping his lips thoughtfully. He stuck out his hand and Eddie shook it.

“Deal.”

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @y4r3luv

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #the fallen

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serejae · 4 months

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margaret

myung jaehyun x doodler!reader

syno; a pencil lead you to him now

a/n ; uncapitalization is intended, some kissing, inspired on our beloved summer besides the exes factor lol :-), enjoy

it was a late night, jaehyun wasn’t home yet and you couldn’t quite fall asleep yet. so you decided to kill two birds with one stone. ever since you were young you had a hobby of drawing, it was normal for you to get asked from people to draw them. unfortunately for them your drawings don’t focus on people but rather sights. as you organized your old drawings you came across a dusty folder hidden all the way in the back of your shelf, curious to see what it is you grab it and clear the dust off. the cover of the folder doesn’t go unnoticed with masking tape messily on it with the words “DO NOT OPEN. YOURE CRAZY.” written on top. you laugh to yourself slighty and take the risk going against your past self. when opening the folder a tiny pencil falls out and all the memories suddenly flash back. picking up the pencil, you immediately sit down and go through the folder.

it was almost 2 years ago. you were sketching in a cafe when you got distracted by your phone that you didn’t notice one of your pencils falling out of your pencil case. someone suddenly diverts your attention away from your phone. looking up you see the most (not even exaggerated) mesmerizing man, his lips turn up slight and he clears his throat “sorry for bothering you, but your pencil fell” he said with a slight blush on his face and reddish ears. you laugh slightly and thank him expecting that to be the end of your conversation but to your suprise he paused for a second thinking about what to say

“are you here alone?”

the wise answer wouldve been no, i mean you dont even know the guy

“yeah”

“can i sit?”

while reminiscing the moment you played with the pencil, the pencil was special, not only because it lead you to jaehyun but the steps it took to realize you loved him.

there were 2 drawings of jaehyun. the only drawings you ever drew of a person

drawing 1 .

its been 2 weeks since you met jaehyun. you both had been talking regularly and you hated it: not because you disliked him or anything but rather the opposite. you found yourself developing a

crush. :-/

as you sat at your table shaking your good pencil between your fingers staring at the blank paper that seems to be staring at you back. thats when you started imagining eyes, nose, lips, a face on the paper but not just anyones face. it was myung jaehyun’s. you never had the urge or willingness to draw a person but something inside your soul was telling you to. trying to push the thoughts back you starting thinking to yourself

“i don’t even remember his face accurately”

“its been 2 weeks pfft”

*ding*

pausing at the notification you flip your phone over and the screen illuminates.

myung jae !

**ONE NOTIFICATION **

“if your not too busy do you wanna ft?:p”

fuck.

before replying back (a obvious yes) you scramble your desk for the pencil he had handed you that day. the pencil was tiny, you kept it because you kept forgetting to throw it away but once you find it you reply with a

“sure”

cant seem too desperate right?

and as he calls you and the screens connect, your met with a familiar face and start doodling. focusing on his voice and you drew, you looked up every so often studying his face.

after finishing you date the corner and shove it in the back of your drawer.

drawing 2 .

your crazy.

its been 9 months since you first met jaehyun and it takes every muscle in you to not draw him. you can’t feed into your delusional or into the thought that you might have a crush on him. at this point its more then a stupid crush. you would say you just really really really like jaehyun but you guys werent even dating yet and thats the problem.

everyday for these past 9 months the two of you have become incredibly close, might i add a little too close.

all you could think about was him and normally in situations like this you would draw things you like to get your mind off of whatever you were stressed about which sadly wouldn’t work in this situation

as he was what you like and all you could think about.

after a hour on debating (3 minutes) you sigh and open your camera roll, opening the album “mjae<{3” your favorite photo of him, one you didnt even know you took but there was something different about the photo

his eyes.

theres no way he couldnt feel the same about you, right?

shut up.

you stopped the thoughts and started doodling, sketching all the details on his face. youve memorized his face probably more then your own now that you think about it.

adding the finishing touches and dating it, you back away from the paper and stare at it

how does he have you wrapped around his finger so well?

grabbing your phones you search variations of questions into google

“why cant i stop thinking of a guy”

“how to know if you like a guy”

“does my crush like me????” you made sure to find one made bv a guy to insure accuracy.

unfortunately the answers didnt help you

they all lead back to love

and thats when you realized

you don’t really like myung jaehyun

your inloveeeeeeee with myung jaehyun.

jumping onto your bed you scream into your pillow and go into a rage. scrambling around your room you find a folder, empty everything inside, get tape from your desk and aggressively put the tape on there. taking your marker you write “DO NOT OPEN. YOUR CRAZY.” you stuffed the current drawing in there as well dug in your drawer for the previous one. once inside you grab the pencil that started it all and put it inside too. then shoving it to the back of your shelf.

a year after meeting jaehyun thats when he finally asked you to be his partner, he had asked to meet in the same cafe you 2 had met. you arrived on time while jaehyun was a bit late, you didnt mind too much though. while waiting you scrolled on your phone when you suddenly heard a voice

“excuse me?

i think you dropped this.”

you look up confused and see a bouquet of flowers with a sticky note attached to it

“be my partner? (plz)” as well a silly drawing of you and jaehyun as cat and dog. looking up you see his familiar face that has a reddish tint

“of course.”

you hear the door open snapping you out of your thoughts

“baby? im home!”

“at my desk jae”

you hear him shuffe his way to your desk and kisses you on the head before looking at your desk

“oh look! its the pencil i gave back to you when we first met, you still have it?” he laughed, his eyes shift over to the two drawings on the table of no other then, him.

“woah…”

he said as he picked up the drawings seeing the dated marks

“these are amazing babe, but i thought you didnt draw people?”

you look down at the pencil and smile

oh you couldn’t wait to tell him the storied behind the drawings

you looked up at the sticky note on your wall before opening your mouth

“funny story…”

#serejae #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #boy next world #bnd #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #bnd jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #Spotify

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shalotttower · 8 months

Text

Fractalize (part 2)

Title: Fractalize Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: "You do this sometimes," he continues, tugging a bit harder. "When I ask a question and it takes you longer to respond. When we watch a movie, and I'm sure you stopped following at least twenty minutes ago." Word count: 2100+ Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female) Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating, morbid pondering, morbid imagery, psychological manipulation, intrusive thoughts, non-con touching, non-con kiss. I start thinking that sad is probably my favourite genre to write at this point. Part 1 Part 3 is in question. I have some drafts, but not sure if it'll become anything.

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Your mother always smelled of fresh linen and something powdery, like her face cream which you tried once in secret. The fragrance held you mesmerized, and when the jar accidentally dropped from your hand, shattering into pieces, it lingered everywhere: on the bathroom tiles, in the cracks and narrow space under the sink. Her silent disappointment was so overpowering that you cleaned the mess three times.

That scent clung to her knitting needles too when she sat with yarn on her lap. It made way into your mind place, waiting for the most inappropriate of moments to resurface: she would show you how to knit, loop after loop, and eventually you were able to create your own tiny scarf.

Hideous, that's what it was.

But also the first thing you ever knitted, so you cherished it, not caring for the holes and loose threads. She called it pretty, mothers do lie like that.

"I was thinking," Chrollo begins. Clean plates are stacked next to a dish rack, ready to be dried. You help him sometimes with this mundane chore out of boredom or a faint allusion to the life you had.

"Mm."

When you stand so close, his shoulder occasionally touches yours, and a lump forms in your throat, a very unimportant physical aspect of your being that you've stopped paying attention to long ago. You swallow it away, like every single morning before putting on the same shirt for the eighth day in a row.

Dry and repeat.

"Is there anything specific you'd like to do today?"

You pick up another plate. How odd. A few months ago this question would've made you ecstatic. Not that there was a real chance to sway Chrollo's plans, but it was a gesture, the pretence that your input mattered, and you took everything from it, until it started tasting stale. A shy kind of feeling, misplaced and fragile, would bloom in your chest, and prompt you say something soft, silly and naive: 'maybe we can have a picnic?', 'I'd like a carrot cake', 'yes, I want to watch that period drama for the hundredth time.'

And he would agree sometimes. Or suggest his alternative instead, which turned out more often than not to be less favorable, but you accepted it because what else was there? In-between the walls decorated with expensive paintings, books you already read three times, between Chrollo who listened intently to every word and a faint buzz of some high-end place, you chose to take whatever you could.

It doesn't bother you anymore, going or not going. Doing nothing or doing something. Being with him in a room or being alone, even though the last one is more compelling. The initial excitement that came with having small choices has passed. You think sometimes that if you took a knitting needle and sunk it deep into your chest, the surface around it would start crumbling and bare a hollow cavity with just ribs and dusty spaces.

Chrollo's suggestions are very thought out. Aimed to convince you that this arrangement isn't that bad after all, but also aimed to bring him something from it, be it sitting uncomfortably close to you on a sofa or holding your hand the entire walk. His presence is stifling in more ways than one, and you've been choking, choking, choking on it for so long, that finally all those cracks running across your insides started to feel liberating.

"No," you say. "Not really. Anything you want is fine."

Chrollo's been asking this more often lately. What you want to eat and what you want to do. Even whether you want to go out sometimes (with him, of course, never alone). Perhaps he's trying to figure any new preference you might have. Or a part of him can sense this deterioration that's slow to set in, but once it does - it stays.

"Dear," there's a tone in his voice. It's not worry per se. Chrollo doesn't worry for you, he worries for that little world of his, made of forced interactions, silk bed sheets and fake domesticity, which you're a part of, an intricate cog he can keep closely tucked to his side. Sheltered, protected, cared for - these words don't fit. So you use other instead, like imprisoned, kept, thing. He likes to have them, from trinkets he steals to human beings - you. Maybe it comes from years of owning nothing at all, having nothing at all, and now the allure of having much and more is like second skin.

You've heard stories about children abandoned to their own devices. Those who were left to roam the streets, scavenge through trash and fight other kids for a half-eaten sandwich or a can of beans. You wonder if he was like that, with messy hair, bony limbs and a desperate need to own something that no one could take.

Bit by bit you slip.

That tone means he's sensing it already, that bit by bit you're trying to leave him behind.

Chrollo always catches up with things easily. From the way he grips your arms, you wonder if that's what he did just now, caught up.

"Yes?"

The dishes are all done, clean and sparkling. The sink shines too, almost mocking you with its perfectness - there's nothing to do anymore. Your mind space of fake wooden floors and wide windows is waiting to be occupied, but it would feel wrong to retreat there so soon. Chrollo will ask questions, and if you're not able to keep up, he'll notice too. He slides both palms down your skin, squeezing a tad harder at the elbows; and so you stare into the sink.

His hands aren't soft at all. They're a little dry from soap, callused around fingertips. How effortless it would be for him to break your bones, one by one, starting from the wrist, but that won't happen; no, all that comes from him is words whispered in your ear, caresses and cruelty wrapped in kindness - it sounds poetic when phrased this way.

Your reflection stares back from the stainless metal. She doesn't look bad. Chrollo takes good care of her, makes sure she eats balanced meals and drinks enough water. She looks alright, with shiny hair and healthy nails.

The eyes is what doesn't match this picture of okay-ness. Not empty. Not vacant. Just frozen in time and very, very still.

Chrollo presses closer until his chest is touching her shoulder blades. You wonder if he considers it a victory, this silent compliance. It's not acceptance really, because that should be accompanied by a sense of peace or fulfillment and none of the two are currently present. It's not even resignation - that requires energy to acknowledge defeat.

If neither of those, what is it then?

"You've been awfully quiet today."

A drop of water falls from the tap and slides down the drain.

"The whole week in fact," his thumb strokes her stomach through the fabric. Slow circles, up and down. Chrollo enjoys physical closeness so much that it should be surprising for someone like him - reserved, calm and collected - to thrive on such things, but you suppose when it comes to her there's an exception.

"Not that I mind it, but if something's bothering you, you know that I'm always ready to listen."

There is something bothering you actually. Many things. You want your cat back. You want him gone, away, to see your mother again and bake with her. Eat fresh pastries while listening to old songs on the radio and talk about silly things or whatever she liked to ponder over before you were swept off your feet like in those old fairy tales. You want your phone and accounts unlocked so you could message friends. You miss your grandmother with her apron, the way she laughed at corny jokes and told stories about her youth. You want many things that Chrollo would never agree on - you're well aware of that, that's why you keep them safely tucked away and rotting.

You also want him to stop pressing against your back, and this is far easier to achieve. Slowly you untuck yourself from between his body and the counter, then turn around. He watches your face calmly like always, with this unblinking gaze full of strange fixation; there are small lines in the corners of his eyes, barely noticeable ones. You count them - six in total, three for each eye.

Then you blink.

"I don't think there is anything."

"Really," Chrollo hums, playing with the hem of your shirt, and you wonder if he knows something you're not aware of him knowing. "You've spoken less than ten sentences in two days, yet there's nothing bothering you. I must say I don't believe that."

So this is how it's going to start. This is how the conversation begins, and it'll flow from here until Chrollo finds what he's searching for.

"I've been paying close attention."

You don't doubt it.

"And what did you notice?"

"Nothing pleasant," his finger finds a loose thread and wraps it around. The pull is light, as if testing whether it'll prompt you to move closer into his space. "Quite concerning things actually."

You don't budge an inch.

"You do this sometimes," he continues. "When I ask a question and it takes you longer to respond. When we watch a movie, and I'm sure you stopped following at least twenty minutes ago. Or when you go over the same page until it's clear that I'm looking."

Chrollo's collarbone is a crisp line with a faint old scar; your attention skims over it to the sharp edges of his jaw. No smile today.

"And I wondered where you have been going."

He tugs a bit harder and the thread snaps.

It should've stunned you how fast everything crumbled - the imaginary wooden floors, Miss Whiskerton on your lap and the lizard, the wide windows - but no, it's surprisingly anti-climactic. Nothing breaks dramatically, just splits the middle, leaving you with cold kitchen tiles underneath your bare feet. You thought about this scenario - Chrollo cornering you, many times, and the words you would choose when he did, yet they fail to manifest and nothing fills the silence except a mute sensation of acknowledgement which settles over your head and shoulders. Your knees don't buckle. Your breath doesn't hitch, there is no shivering, and perhaps that's the most terrifying reaction of all.

So what, you think. And it's such a simple thought, plain and ordinary, so what.

Chrollo has his ways, but you have yours; they are slow and small, and squeeze you very tight. You can't comprehend this new expression on his face, haven't seen it before.

"My dear," he says in a quiet voice, so unlike his usual smooth, charming tone. "Broken thoughts and forlorn dreams can't fix what you want them to."

He taps your forehead, as if to engrave those words into the soft tissue of your brain. They slip away though, like running water.

"Wherever you choose to wander, there's not a single spot where I'm not right behind. Delusions don't suit you and it's simply sad to watch."

The kiss comes without warning; Chrollo doesn't bother to say anything else, just cups your face. It's warm and deep, a full-mouthed kiss that tastes faintly of tea you two drank during breakfast.

It's rot, you realize with a ten minute delay; and this slack mouth he's caressing isn't yours. There's a plant behind his shoulder, some small cactus with white needles sitting on a windowsill. The sunlight creates patterns on the glass, soft yellow circles and lines. They shift every passing second.

He's going to do this now, isn't he. Kiss you when you slip too deep as a way to break the pattern and remind that this is where you're supposed to be - with him. In the kitchen wearing a thin shirt above the knee, with cracks that spread across your insides, seeking for every small space they can fill. You'll grow older by his side, he'll bring you material pleasures to compensate for the lack of mental ones - books, clothes, jewelry, a pet if you decide to ask (you won't). Chrollo is going to kiss you often until age creeps onto your faces, and you'll watch each other turn old together.

The plant on the windowsill looks so dry.

"Dear."

He pulls back a few inches. You meet his eyes.

"Mm?"

You will let the rot dig under your nails and wait for it to eat away until his hands eventually become empty; rot is something to grab onto. It's slow to set, but spreads fast once does and never runs out of supply.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter fanfic #yandere #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

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mixelation · 7 months

Text

wait okay i DID fall asleep days ago when i said i would post about this and then was too busy to Blog. but here are some points on the tori/minato au

it is time travel late game plasticity!tori. so just assume she can basically do anything she wants with fuinjutsu (with sufficient time/resources) but she's not a ninja. instead she's just in ame midway through the third shinobi war one day. which SUCKS-- ame is a fucking mess and tori is essentially homeless and no one knows her. so tori's first idea is that she'll LEAVE ame, get to the coast, and then take a boat somewhere with no war. unfortunately this is means crossing through active ninja war zones

the Mood for tori in this is: imagine her muddy and damp at all times. she is floundering around the elemental nations mainly by attaching herself to other civilian groups trying to relocate and, when necessary, scamming ninja. her ability to take down ninja is all over the place, but if she tricks you into making the wrong move, you WILL end up stuck in an unbreakable barrier or dying horribly and she will take your things.

and then the mood for minato is: he's like 19-20, so he's young and more reckless with less direction than i usually write him. he is only JUST now getting an international reputation for hiraishin related shenanigans. he feels dusty and overworked all the time, but also he currently has no strong ties to konoha as a physical place (jiraiya and his genin teammates are rarely there due to war, he and kushina are buddies but not dating, and he hasn't been assigned team 7 yet). so basically he's loyal to konoha but he's not like.... eager to get back or anything. he's fine fucking around in weird corners of the world during his down time. he is basically a Nice Guy but he has no problem with murder as the quickest and easier solution.

the meetcute:

tori is good at what she does but her scams/lies/manipulations obviously don't always work, and failing to trick a ninja can end with dire consequences. she has 'died' a couple times, been imprisoned and moved by ninja and civilian groups AWAY from her goals and had to escape, etc

she is currently having a Very Bad Time. she's been captured by ninja and they're actively harassing/humiliating her. she doesn't have an opportunity to DO anything bout this so she is quite upset

minato shows up and murders the ninja. this has nothing to do with tori's presence-- it's his mission to clear enemies in the area.

minato doesn't care THAT much about helping random civilians who aren't even fire country, but he IS very good and smiling prettily and asking people if they're okay.

he asks tori if she has a safe place to go. she lies and says yes bc she doesn't want to find out what happens if the fucking YELLOW FLASH talks to her for longer than necessary.

but also she is. she is very flustered. she's not used to being saved with no strings attached. he's handsome and being kind to her. she's SO upset

they part ways. tori stomps off into the woods and she's COLD and LOST ALL HER SUPPLIES because she ran away before she could LOOT THE CORPSES.

and! the worst part is!! she keeps having idle fantasies about if she HAD said she needed help and minato? helping her?? WHY WOULD HE HELP HER. how would he 'help' her. she bets it would feel good

she INTENTIONALLY gets herself recaptured while she knows he's in the area just to be saved again. except this time she's a small group of people and he gives the same exact speech and offers help to everyone? he does not seem to recognize her even though she keeps thinking about him? tori NOT special???

tori: okay so he's psychological torturing me tori: guess i should.... kill him....? tori: only if we ever meet again though. tori: which we probably won't

so while this interaction will haunt tori for months, minato mostly forgets about it immediately. however there ARE mounting rumors that SOMEONE has a fuinjutsu master running around. it's unclear which village is responsible for it. jiraiya's investigations indicate it's probably a wandering-nin because the things this person is doing make no SENSE from a 'village at war' perspective, because he's following around tori's wildly inconsistent path of destruction. jiraiya only even cares because a few times she's been forced to leave behind active seals, and they're? insane looking???

so the sequence of events that ends up happening is:

minato is in the same area as tori, because he's helping hunt down this mysterious fuinjutsu user. he ends up chasing a bunch of ninja out of a civilian village because it is, in fact, more convenient to him if civilians like him and let him use their resources. he gives them the same speech he always does about are they okay and everyone is safe now. one of the villagers, a young woman, approaches him and is like "hey can you help with this weird ninja technique down by the river, it's killing the fish?" and minato is like "yeah sure" and he follows her down the river and voila! one of the weird seals he's looking for!

and then? somehow?? he ends up IN the river AND the river is fucking BOILING. he gets out because he can fucking teleport, but he hasn't been spamming his hiraishin as much as he will in the future and he ends up having to teleport pretty far away. he's decently injured because BOILING so he seeks medical attention and doesn't go back for a few days. but when he DOES the girl is gone and the villagers are like "oh yeah we have no idea who that was"

tori: hi sorry, you seem to have not noticed i'm the main character. die horribly, i guess

minato: i think the renegade fuinjutsu user is..... a random civilian? jiraiya: proposterous jiraiya: that makes no sense all of konoha leadership: nope, sounds wrong

so now it's minato's personal mission to refind tori, despite konoha leadership's orders to drop it, because he's 100% sure SHE is the mysterious fuinjutsu user. i don't think it would actually take him that long because he is a highly competent ninja and tori is tricksy but she's also... a walking disaster. (basically, she's good at getting herself out of immediate problems, but she's bad at long-term problems, so she does things like "flee before hiding evidence of insane fuinjutsu" and "gives her name as Cup Noodles to more than one person")

meanwhile, tori is wandering around backwater hot water country like, "i did it. i fixed my feelings on the yellow flash. u_u" and he shows up again like "hello!!!" and she's like "NO FUCK"

the problems minato immediately runs into are:

he doesn't actually have specific orders on what to DO about tori, on account of konoha thinking she has to be some sort of bad ass ninja. the game plan for the mysterious fuinjutsu master is basically just "identify and then report back" and he already did that

he COULD just drag her in and sit her down with a yamanaka, and then probably jiraiya would be like "huh, good work, kid" and he would get another accolade for excellent service he doesn't care about. but, consider: he wants to know WTF is up with her, how her seals work, and also how is she doing them if she's not a ninja

he figures out pretty quickly that they HAVE met before, twice, and she targeted him specifically to try and boil him alive. he's had ninja fixate on him before but.... the disconnect between tori's perceived threat and how close she got to boiling him alive is absurd

he's

he's kind of into it?

so the mood then is: tori is being casually stalked by the yellow flash because he just thinks she's neat. she's wildly conflicted about this because she enjoys his attention way too much, but also, she hates how he makes her feel. she hates that her life is 90% being uncomfortable and terrified of being randomly murdered, and she HATES how minato being around makes all of that go away. she hates that she likes fucking around with fuinjutsu with him. she starts doing stuff that will self-sabotage her own quest to LEAVE THE CONTINENT just to get his attention.

the get-together:

tori gets herself into hot water that makes her go "oh, hmm, i may have fucked up for good this time"

current scenario i'm imagining (some rotating needed): iwa is ALSO onto Insane Rando Fuinjutsu User running around, and they end up grabbing tori and moving her into like. an actual field prison for ninja, in a major iwa camp in one of the smaller countries. the rumor among the other captives (mostly konoha ninja) is that they'll be moved to iwa proper eventually, and tori is.... pretty sure she's actually fucked forever if she ends up in iwa

but! she has other prisoners! who are ninja! and she's like: "look, despite knowing i can do fuinjutsu, they don't seem to have the slightest idea HOW i've been doing it, because i can still make a blood seal whenever" and she gets to be an integral part of an escape plan!

but she gets left behind/immediately recaptured because no one ACTUALLY cares about her and helping her >:(

i might change this but ONE concept i have for how this pans out is that hiruzen's non-asuma child (konohamaru's parent) is one of the captives. so it's a VERY politically important captive who isn't necessarily very badass by themselves. so the mood is like "this person needs to be rescued, but they're not like some A-tier person who can rescue themselves," which is why minato himself gets sent in

tori, while she's being smacked around by iwa leadership for being a part of the escape attempt that lost them their most valuable captive, realizes that she did actually fuck up in attempting to escape, because she HAD a shot at Konoha rescuing her if she stuck with the other captives, but now those captives are free, and no one is coming for her

MEANWHILE, minato has connected witht he escaped konoha-nin and pieced together that tori was with them but they left her behind

minato: oh minato: BRB

and i've decided in THIS au, THIS is minato's "kills 1000+ Iwa-nin in one shot" moment

so he shows up, covered in blood, kills the guy who's been torturing her, and is like "tori, are you okay?" and it's his speech he gives everyone except he's not using his pretty smile she now KNOWS is fake and he's tenderly wiping blood off her face

and tori is just. SO fucking weak to this. you became the most lethal ninja in history? for h e r?! 🥺🥺🥺

and then they make out 😌

i'm not sure how the rest of the story goes. i think minato's preferred way forward would be for tori to go into konoha's employment, but i don't think she'd like that. but also she suddenly is less interested in leaving the continent so now she maybe has to fix some things?

tori: oh you have a genin team now? um unrelated but there is a cave near kannabi bridge with an old man you must kill minato: wh minato: why do you sound like like a wizard giving me a quest minato, a month later, finding Uchiha Madara in a cave: minato: minato: TORI WHAT THE FUCK

but anyway after that when she's like "we have to find a plant guy and kill him too" then minato is 100% on board because she is. some sort of witch?

also she lets him draws a hiraishin marker on her For Safety and he's weirdly horny about it

#fic: plasticity #tori/minato #for this one i liked synchronicity or complicity #TBH i'd like it if i had a NEW oc/si for this story but idk how to do it without losing several of my favorite aspects of this story #like i could make a kushina!SI who's a renegade fuinjutsu user but then you lose #the part where it's a ???? bonkers reveal and ALSO i feel like i'd have to address the destruction of uzushio #and ALSO with tori i don't have to do a lot of character work to explain why she thinks incredible violence is super romantic #asynchronicity

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13as07 · 6 months

Text

Elegant #1

(Shino Aburame)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to JUHiHUJi]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,502

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

It's a western theme wedding style cause I was lazy and didn't want to do research

Alcohol Use

———————————————————————

I let out another strained breath, glancing over my wedding dress in the body mirror again. What if Shino doesn't like the style? What if he's getting cold feet? What if he leaves me alone at the altar? What if -

"Wow," a voice says softly, drawing out the word. "You're so... beautiful." My sights jump up, glancing in the mirror to figure out who's behind me. Naruto's frame fills the mirror as he walks closer, settling behind me as his eyes jump over my dress. He's smiling ear to ear, with stars hanging in his eyes as he looks at me. "You're the second prettiest bride I've ever seen."

"Second?" I ask, smiling back at him.

"Ya, sorry but you can't beat out how pretty Hinata was at our wedding. She'll always hold that first place price."

I laugh at the love-struck newlywed. Hinata and Naruto got married two months ago, and I swear he still looks at her the way he did at their ceremony.

"Now, I know Sakura will drag me out by my ear if she catches me in here, the whole bad energy from seeing you - "

"That's only for the groom, Naruto. Groom's men aren't included in that," I correct, shifting around so we can face each other. My squadmate looks pretty nice when he gets dressed up, even if his hair is still messy and pointed every which way.

Naruto's cheeks dusty a slight pink as he rubs the back of his head. "Oh, right. Anyway, I remember the whole 'new, old, borrowed, blue' thing from my wedding. I don't know if you're doing that like Hinata did but I did bring you something blue just in case."

"I wasn't planning on it but I appreciate the thought, Naruto," I tell him, leaning forward to wrap my arms around him.

He wraps his arms around me too, being careful not to mess up my perfectly constructed look for my special day. "Anyway, you want to see my gift?"

"Yes, I do."

"Just so you know, this is fully from me. I did it - well Hinata stitched it - but it was fully my idea, all of it," Naruto rambles, digging through his pockets in search of my gift.

He tugs out a square cloth, the main color being a rich blue with the edges being his signature obnoxious orange color. Naruto holds it in front of me, letting the cloth tumble undone to its full size. It's no bigger than a napkin. In careful stitches is the quote 'Trust is knowing that when a squad mate pushes you, they're doing it because they care'.

"Naruto," I mumble, reaching forward to hold the ends of the cloth.

"Pretty nifty, huh? Hinata had a section of Neji's robe turned into a handkerchief, so I asked her to do the same with my old jacket. I figured you could pin it under your dress. If not that's cool too. Oh! And don't worry, Hinata cleaned the material like a bazillion times."

"Naruto," I call again, tears in my eyes as I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around his neck again. "You dumb gushy fox," I say with a smile and tears of appreciation.

"Do you not like it? Oh! Please don't cry, you're going to ruin your makeup," he rushes out, carefully slipping at the water that threatens to ruin the makeup I spent an hour on.

"I love it, Naruto," I tell him, smiling at him to send the point home. "You big goof. Would you pin it to my dress?" I ask, shifting my skirt around to figure out where I want it pinned.

"Of course! Let me go find a pin."

————————————

"Just some final touches," Sakura mumbles, running the makeup brush over my cheeks again. "Oh, and a few puffs of perfume," she says, jumping to her feet and rummaging around the table covered in different products.

"I can't wear perfume, you know that. It messes with Shino's kikaichus."

"So, you know how Shino has been queasy off and on the last couple of months?" She mumbles, now digging through her bag.

"Sakura," I utter, my tone warning because of the way our conversation is heading.

"Well, it's because Hinata and I have been testing different perfumes," She finishes, standing up with a small box in her hands.

"Sakura!"

"Oh calm down, it was only a handful of times and only a squirt or two every time. No Shinos and no kikaichus were harmed. Besides, it’s your wedding day. You should be wearing a new perfume to celebrate. It just so happens to be the only perfume that doesn't annoy or make your husband's parasites sick. Now come here and let me spray you down."

I roll my eyes at her but do get up from my spot. I twirl in a slow circle, letting Sakura coat me in the flower-scented perfume. "See? So much better, plus you can wear perfume more often since it doesn't mess with Shino."

"I guess so," I mutter, shaking my head at her. I swear Sakura never uses her brain outside of missions.

"Alright, I'll leave your fancy new scent here on the table," She says, making a show of putting it back in the box and leaving the box on the table. "We need to get going for your first look and such." Shino isn't much of an emotional man and is rarely emotional around other people, so we decided a private first look would be best.

She leads the way, my veil in her hold, held above her head so it doesn't drag on the ground as we head outside. "Wait here," she mutters after the short walk, stopping long enough to situate the clips of my veil into my hair.

Sakura slips away, leaving me to admire the cherry blossoms as she goes looking for my husband. I do just that, walking along the small path and toying with the heavy branches being weighed down by the weight of their blooms.

Enjoying the scenery helps with some of the anxiety surrounding today. I'm more than thrilled to spend the rest of my life with Shino, but it's still nerve-racking to think about all the things that could go wrong today, let alone the future.

"You don't always have to be such a lug!" Sakura's voice rings out after a few minutes, tugging my focus in the direction we came from earlier.

My best friend is dragging my very soon-to-be husband down the short path, a blindfold wrapped around his eyes to ensure he's not cheating. Shino looks nice, dressed fancy for once and his hair slicked back instead of loose and bushy like usual. "I do not see the point in doing this. I will see her when she walks down the aisle," he grumbles, slowly trudging after Sakura as she pulls him my way.

"I don't want you loosening your macho-ness because you burst into tears in front of everyone," I tease, causing his head to snap in the direction of my voice.

A group of his kikaichus slips out, eagerly flapping their way toward me. Some stay buzzing around me, with a few others clinging to different parts of my clothing. This has been a common thing during our relationship, Shino's bugs ditching him to investigate me or chew at a bit of my chakra. I freaked out the first time it happened but he insists they mean no harm and it helps him feel close to me. Since then, it's come to be something that calms me down, which I need with how loud my heartbeat seems to be.

"I would not and will not cry," he mumbles, stopping in the spot Sakura leaves him in.

"Lug," she murmurs before turning toward me. "I'm going to go make sure everything is settled. Once you two are done, send Shino in and come wait in the corridor, alright?"

"Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes."

With that, Sakura turns on her heels to head towards the waiting guests, leaving the two of us alone for the first time today. "You don't think you're going to cry when you see me?" I ask, reaching forward to toy with his sunglasses that Sakura slithered the blindfold under.

"No, I do not," he whispers, his hands sliding up to wrap around my arms, causing more of his kikaichus to spill out, coating both of our arms now.

I slowly slide my touch backward, taking my time to rest his glasses on his head before I tug at the knot keeping the cloth in place around his eyes. Once the cloth is loose, I take a step back, letting the material dangle from my fingertips.

Shino's eyes are squinted because of the setting sun. I knew they would be, but I want to see his whole reaction especially since this is something that won't happen again. His sight crawls around my body, falling down my dress like a waterfall before climbing back up my frame like a mountain. "Perhaps," he starts, voice cracking as he repeatedly blinks. "Perhaps, I was wrong."

Once the words are out, he breaks, tears rolling down his cheeks, chasing away the kikaichus that have been clinging to his face. Shino moves forward, enveloping me in his arms so he can hold me. "You look elegant, my Ladybug," he whispers into my hair, his little friends following their leader and knotting themselves in my locks.

When Shino pulls back, his focus shifts from me to helping his beetles untangle their legs, being careful not to mess up my hair and not to hurt his bugs. He spends the whole time trying to blink away the fresh tears forming in his eyes; he fails, forming water lines down his cheeks.

"Oh, Shino," I coo when he pulls the rest of the way apart from me. I cup his face, using my thumbs to brush away his tears. "You look very elegant too."

"Not as elegant as you, my dear," he mutters, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips.

————————————

I shift my dress again, making sure it's laid perfectly as I wait for Kakashi to join me. There's about ten minutes until I'm expected to walk down the aisle with my Sensei giving me away to my husband, to my Shino. My nerves have evened out since our time together under the cherry blossoms, leaving me filled with nothing but joy.

"There's my gorgeous daughter-in-law," Shibi's soft voice calls from behind me.

I turn a bit, making sure not to mess up my carefully laid-out dress and my thin veil settled on top of it. I decided on a royal-length veil, more so because that's what Shino wanted than me, but it is his wedding as well. If he wants me to wear a long veil that trails behind me, I don't mind.

"You look lovely," Shibi compliments again, making his way forward. He stops in front of me, careful hands cupping my cheeks. He tilts my head down, brushing a gentle kiss to my hairline. "You are beautiful. The most beautiful bride my son could ask for."

"Thank you," I mutter, tilting my head back up so I can look at my father-in-law. A soft smile is on his face as he looks down at me. This is one of the few times I've seen Shibi truly content, which only solidifies my decision to marry his son. Shibi is the smartest man I know, and if he agrees with my decision it must be the right one.

"I have a gift for you, a temporary one," he mutters, pulling away from me. "Since Shino and you decided to have a night wedding, I figured a little extra glow would be nice," Shibi tells me, throwing up a few hand signals.

Soft flapping fills the space, a small squirm of bugs following the command they were given. "What are you doing?" I ask, tilting my head backward, watching the bugs settle in a neat line along the hem of my veil.

"Watch," he orders, shifting his hand placement to send out another command.

The bugs shift their wings, a soft glow coming from them, decorating my veil with the soft yellow coloring. "Shibi!" I call in joy, lunging forward to catch him in a hug. "It's beautiful! Thank you."

"You're welcome," he utters, unclinging my arms from around him. Shibi isn't much of a touchy person, a trait his son inherited too. "After the ceremony, I'll need them back, of course."

"Of course," I echo, sending him another smile.

He nods his head, letting his hands fall back down to his sides. "I should get seated before the ceremony begins. I look forward to seeing you walk down the aisle," Shibi mutters, nodding his head once more before he slips around the corner, heading into the crowd that's eagerly waiting for me to enter.

I adjust my dress again, carefully toying with my veil so I don't hurt or knock off any of the lightening bugs clinging to it. I have a few moments of silence, giving my anxiety the chance to crawl into my rib cage again. After today, Shino and me will be bound together forever, until the end of our time.

"There you are," my Sensei calls, pulling me out of my head. "I didn't know you were done getting ready yet." He mutters, adjusting the pin-comb that's holding my veil in place. "You look like an angel."

"You don't look too bad yourself," I tease, glancing over Kakashi's put-together look. It's weird seeing my Sensei out of his usual outfit.

He rolls his eyes, letting out a disapproving hum. Despite the small banter, Kakashi still leans forward, resting the side of his head against mine with his arms loosely wrapped around me. "The lightning bugs are a nice touch," he whispers, squeezing me before he tugs himself away.

"They're a temporary gift from Shibi."

"Well, I have a permanent gift for you. Just don't tell the others, they might get jealous."

"Ya?" I ask, watching Sensei dig through his pockets, the familiar sound of our training bells filling the air when he tugs them out of his pocket.

Kakashi hums again, giving me a rare masked and closed-eyed smile. "Naruto gave you his gift already, yes?" He asks, clinking the bells so they'll ring again.

"Yes, he did," I answer, lifting a layer of my dress to show off the handkerchief Naruto pinned to my dress.

He nods again, bending down so he can kneel on the ground. Kakashi works carefully, unlike my clumsy squad mate. Sensei moves slowly, unpinning the handkerchief and laying it on his knee so he can wrap his bells around the pin before pinning both items under my dress again. "There, now you'll have all three of us attached to you during the night."

"When did you get all gushy?" I tease, shaking my leg a bit. You can't hear the bells around the fabric but I can feel their imprint against me.

"When Naruto got married, and again now. I'm sure it'll happen again when Sakura and Sasuke get married too," Kakashi answers, straightening up before taking his spot next to me. "Are you ready to do this?" He asks, prompting his arm out toward me.

"As ready as ever," I answer, clinging to the bend of his elbow.

"That's my girl," he mutters, poking his head around the corner to send Sakura the signal that we're ready.

————————————

Shino's hands cling to me for dear life, his social anxiety at an all-time high as he spins us in slow, small circles. His left-hand grips mine, his ring digging into my fingers, threatening to leave an imprint. His right-hand rests on my waist, clinging to the material of my dress. "I despise dancing," he mutters, focus flickering around the millions of eyes watching us have our first dance.

"I know."

"Everyone is watching us."

"I know."

"You are my wife now."

"You are my husband now," I echo, shifting forward, I loop my arms around his neck, laying his head on my shoulder. Shino gratefully takes the change, his arms tight around my waist and his nose buried into my neck.

We sway, still moving in slow circles around the dance floor. "I will not be dancing again tonight," he whispers into my neck, the feeling of his kikaichus exploring the new position, little legs tugging at the material of my dress.

"I know, I appreciate you doing this though."

"Of course, Ladybug."

Shino reluctantly pulls away from me as the song comes to an end, fresh tears raining on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask, hands jumping up to wipe away his tears before anyone else notices.

"Nothing, my dear," he answers, fingers wrapping around mine to pull them away from his face. "You... are perfect," he mutters, glancing around before quickly pressing a kiss to my fingertips. "Can we go sit now?"

"Yes we can," I murmur, smiling from ear to ear as my husband tugs me off the dance floor.

Cheers from the guests fill the room, a few of them jumping up from their spots to take up the dance floor as the next song starts. Kiba and Naruto are beaming from the head table, as are my bridesmaids; Sakura and Hinata. "Our baby is all grown up!" Kiba cheers, Hinata giggling and nodding in agreement.

"Be quiet," Shino mumbles, helping me into my chair before he sits down alongside me. Once we're situated, his hand messes with my dress, ruffling my layers in search of a small amount of skin on skin. "What's that?" He asks as his fingertips slide over the pinned presents from my squad mates, head tilting down to glance at the items.

"Bells from my Sensei and a handkerchief from Naruto," I answer, helping him move my dress out of the way.

He hums softly, fingertips digging into my knee as he clings to it. His thumb slides over my knee on repeat, a kikaichu or two crawling over his fingers, occasionally dipping down and crossing my knee. "You are perfect," he repeats, sending me a rare smile before turning to hell at Kiba again.

I smile to myself, soaking in the repeated compliment. "Well, Mrs. Aburame," Sakura teases, a huge smile on her face as well. "What does it feel like being officially married now?"

"Wonderful."

————————————

Sakura and I belt out jumbled lyrics of the song playing, the liquor in our system commanding our dancing with both of our wet blankets of partners watching. Sasuke and Shino are sat near each other, both men's full attention on us as we dance. "What do you think they're thinking right now?" She asks, her arms dangling over my shoulders as we move in beat with each other.

"Well, knowing Sasuke he's probably talking himself out of killing me and Shino might have one or two more songs in him before he gets clingy again."

Sakura lets out a loud cackle, the alcohol chipping away the bubbly cute persona she tries to maintain. Her laughter only increased when Shino starts heading our way. "You're wrong about Sasuke but it seems you were right about Shino."

"Right about what?" My husband asks, impatience in his voice as he stands next to us, both of us still swaying to the music.

"About you wanting my attention," I answer, pulling away from my friend to wrap Shino up in my arms.

"That is not what I want," he mutters, staying still as I squeeze him in my hold. "I wish for us to go home. I would like some alone time with my wife," Shino airs out the last word like he can't comprehend being able to use it.

"What kind of alone time?" I ask, sliding my hands up to toy with the ends of his hair, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

"Just... alone time," he whispers, a hint of pink dust on his cheeks. "Should I have it announced that the ceremony is over?"

"Have them announce the party is over in thirty minutes," I mutter back, letting my arms fall to his shoulders, leaning myself against my husband. I tip my head up, lips brushing against his ear as I speak. "If you can't wait thirty minutes I'd be more than happy to give you a little... support." I let a hum out, flickering my eyes down.

Shino's face is full red now, mouth gapping a bit. "That is not... we cannot... Ladybug," he stutters, as flustered with my straightforwardness as ever. "I am... that is something I have been excited about today, but that... that is an at-home activity."

"I know, I'm just teasing."

He lets out a sigh of relief, gently pulling me off of him. "Your mind is lacking the elegance the rest of you possess."

"I know."

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #shino oneshot #shino x reader #shino aburame oneshot #shino aburame x reader #shino aburame

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jackhues · 1 year

Text

the devil and the runaway! au - prologue

note: prologue's here, finally! hope you guys like it! remember to like, rb <3 (also my tags aren't working for some reason, so pls rb if you see this!!)

the devil and the runaway! au - navigation

add or remove yourself from my mafia! au taglist

I should’ve left Monaco when I had the chance.

You should’ve packed your bags months ago and fled to another country — Hell, you should’ve fled across the world. Somewhere in South America perhaps. You knew enough languages to live comfortably in quite a few of the countries, didn’t you? Nico would be a little upset, but he would adjust quickly.

I should’ve left Monaco, you thought again, your eyes on the large figure falling to his knees, then the ground.

“Nice shot,” a raspy voice near your feet spoke.

Your hands shook violently, but you still weren’t able to let go of the gun.

“I don’t even know how to shoot this thing,” your voice was shakier than your hands.

“Yeah, well, I’d say you did alright,” Charles Leclerc, the Devil himself, spoke, propping himself up slightly to see who you’d just shot. He looked back up at you, “Darling, I’m gonna need you to call someone for me.”

“The police?”

Charles barked out a laugh, before abruptly hissing and grabbing his abdomen. “That’s funny, but I can’t laugh because it hurts. No, you’re calling someone else.” He gave you a pointed look, “Someone who can help a little more than the police in this situation.”

“I left my phone inside,” you whispered, your fingers still gripping the gun.

“You wouldn’t be able to call with that anyways,” Leclerc continued, sucking a breath through his teeth and laying back on the gravel sidewalk.

The moon lit up your dusty street, just enough for you to make out the dark outline of liquid pooling beneath him.

“You were shot,” you muttered, staring at the blood. There was a lot of it.

“Yes, that’s why I ended up collapsing and dropping my gun in your hands,” he said, as if this interaction were an everyday occurrence. For him, it might’ve been. “Now, if you could just reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and call someone for me.”

“One of… one of your people?” you asked, still rooted at your spot.

Despite the bloodloss, you could see Charles Leclerc roll his eyes. “Yes, one of my people, as you so eloquently put it. Now, if you could snap out of whatever trance you’re in, I would appreciate it. You shot someone, maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s not. No one knows. But I’m not dead yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. So you can either call one of my people or keep pressure on the wound while I call.”

You blinked, part of you surprised that he’d managed to get that many words out despite the fact that he lost more blood than he should’ve.

“I’ll call,” you decided, going through his pocket and grabbing his phone. The gun remained glued to your other hand.

“The password is five-four-six-two,” he grunted, doing his best to stay awake. He misread the look on your face, “I change it multiple times a day, you won’t be getting anything from knowing that.”

Despite the situation, you rolled your eyes, unlocking the phone.

“Go to contacts, call Lorenzo,” he grunted, his breathing coming heavier now. “Make sure you say blue ribbon the second he picks up.”

“Why?” you asked on instinct, searching up the name.

Charles decided to indulge you this once, “Because otherwise, you’ll have a whole lot of my people coming in, looking for a fight.”

You gulped, turning away from those blue-green eyes, and clicked the contact Lorenzo. There was no picture, no extra information to tell you who the hell you were going to be calling.

“Is this it?” you asked, turning the screen so Charles could see.

“Yeah, call him,” he told you. “And make sure you say—”

“—Blue ribbon,” you said the second someone picked up.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Who is this?”

“Charles Leclerc has been shot,” you ignored the question. “He’s out here on the street, bleeding, and he told me to call you.”

You heard frantic shuffling on the other end of the line, someone barking out orders, a car starting.

“Tell me everything.”

You told Lorenzo what had happened that night: you stepped out of your cafe/home to throw out the garbage, a figure practically ran into you while you were locking the door. Stumbling, he’d put a gun in your hands, before collapsing to the ground. Another figure followed closely behind, holding a gun in the air, aiming in your and Charles’ direction. Instinct took over, and you held the gun in the man’s direction, pressing the trigger. The man fell over, and hadn’t moved since then.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” you told Lorenzo, eyeing the pool of blood beneath Charles. It was getting a lot larger than you’d like.

“We’ll take care of it,” Lorenzo promised.

As if on cue, a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of you, the passenger door opening before the car even stopped.

You watched the olive skinned man step out, phone pressed to his ear. He gave you a quick glance, nodding, before pocketing the phone.

The disconnect tone blared in your ear from Charles' phone.

Lorenzo Leclerc, the oldest of the three Leclerc brothers. Even though he was the oldest of the Brotherband, rumour was that he was too soft to lead. He never missed any of his shots, but he never raised a gun unless he was protecting his family. The role of the Devil was passed on to Charles by Lorenzo himself.

You stood awkwardly as Lorenzo knelt next to Charles, whispering in rapid French.

Even if you’d been in Monaco for nearly three years now, you didn’t speak French well enough to understand half of what they were saying.

You diverted your attention as the driver side door opened, depositing a dark skinned man in braids. You barely had time to register his profile before he raised a gun towards you, still walking closer.

“What the hell?” you shouted, your hands raised as you moved backwards.

“What’s your name?” The man said, still making his way towards you.

“Y/N Meadows,” you answered, eager to get the gun aimed away from you.

The man hesitated for a second, but continued forward.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“Drop the gun,” the man said, his own still pointed at you.

You looked at the gun in your hand, forgetting you were holding it. You placed it on the ground, your hands once again raised. Your fingers missed the feeling of being wrapped around it already.

The man took another step forward, and you took another step backwards. The door to your shop dug into your back, telling you there was no place to go.

The dark skinned man kept moving forward, taking his time as if he enjoyed seeing you look for an escape. The key was still in the lock, but even if you managed to get inside, there was nowhere to go. The Ferras would catch you if they wanted you, and the Brotherband that leads them… well you hoped Charles wouldn’t end you.

Your eyes shut on instinct once the barrel of the gun was pressed to your forehead. One shot, straight in the center, and you’d be dead.

“Lewis,” Charles muttered from his spot on the floor. “Leave her alone, she shot the man who shot me.”

Lorenzo was on the phone again, still kneeling next to the injured Charles. You weren’t sure how much he saw or heard, but you were more than glad he intervened.

‘Lewis’ gave you a once over, speaking over his shoulder to Charles in an English accent. “You sure it was her? You’re not delirious or anything, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Charles responded, flipping him off. “Go call Arthur and tell him to stop freaking out. After that, make sure you take care of the body down the street. The one she shot.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Lewis muttered, pocketing his gun.

You remained tense as Lewis moved back into the car, pulling out his phone and calling ‘Arthur’.

Arthur Leclerc, The third and youngest of the Brotherband. He was still a Prema boy, one who’d come by your cat cafe quite a few times. Whiskers, who was notably the most hostile cat, seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company. You never knew what to think of the youngest, so you tried not to think of him at all.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Lorenzo said, addressing you for the first time ever. “We need to bring our medic here. Is there a couch or something in there we can use?”

You looked back at your cafe doors, realizing for a second how little these boys knew you. Granted, you knew little about them too. You knew you shouldn’t invite them, especially not while Nico was sleeping.

Despite every instinct telling you to turn them away, you knew Lorenzo had a gun on him. Considering it was his brother’s life on the line, he could always shoot you, then go in anyways. Asking was his way of extending an olive branch in your direction.

Who’d watch Nico then?

“I’ve got a second room and bed if you’re willing to carry him up a couple stairs,” you offered. “The room’s soundproofed, and you’re less likely to wake the cats.”

“Lead the way,” he motioned, slinging his younger brother over his shoulders.

Charles groaned, adjusting himself over Lorenzo’s shoulders. You watched the pool of blood, looking away as you realized it was much bigger than you thought.

“Someone will clean it up,” Lorenzo told you, catching the way you looked at the blood.

You nodded, unlocking the cafe door, and leading two of the Leclercs to the guest bedroom. You opened the door, moving aside to let Lorenzo deposit his younger brother on the bed.

“You should probably put a sign out,” Lorenzo told you. “The cafe’s opening late tomorrow. In the afternoon. We’ll be gone by then.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Running a business was hard, especially when you had two mouths to feed… but opposing the oldest Leclerc could mean death. Just because Lorenzo didn’t shoot, doesn’t mean he has a problem against sending someone else in his stead.

You settled on a nod, stepping out of the room and writing out a note to stick on the door of the cafe. You texted your baristas, letting them know as well. Although, it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure quite a few of them would be upset with you in the morning.

With a sigh, you looked out the cafe doors, noticing that the pool of Charles Leclerc’s blood was gone. As was the garbage bag you were supposed to throw out. You didn’t know how they did it, and you didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to be associated with the Ferras, or the Brotherband — or any other gang for that matter.

A little too late for that now, you supposed.

Shaking your head to yourself, you climbed back upstairs, past the guest bedroom. After the events of the night, you just wanted to curl up into bed next to your son, hold him close and assure yourself you’d be fine. Maybe you could move to Argentina, or even Brazil.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop on the boys as you walked past the guest bedroom, but the door was open, and they were arguing a little too loudly.

“He’s gone, though,” you recognized Lewis’ English accent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but he’s gone.”

“Charles, are you sure there was someone?” Lorenzo asked, his tone making it sound like they were well into the argument. “Like there was someone there and you know he fell to the ground?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Charles’ voice was steely. “She shot him, and he dropped. I’m pretty sure he was dead.”

“I didn’t see anybody,” Lewis said. “I was in the car, talking to Arthur the whole time. If someone came in and moved the body, we’d know.”

You held your breath, along with everyone else in that room.

It was the Devil who spoke, “How the hell does a man just disappear like that?”

#the devil and the runaway! au #naqia's au's!#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fics #charles leclerc mafia #mafia!f1 #mafia!charles leclerc #charles leclerc mafia au #mafia!au #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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roguekhajiit · 6 months

Text

TW: Transphobia

I had my first ever encounter with a transphobic member of the LGBTQ community this week.

At work on Monday, I overheard some co-workers discussing Transgender Day of Visibility and how President Biden issued a statement acknowledging Trans Day. Since it just so happened to occur on the same day as Easter this year, my very close-minded co-workers took that and Biden's statement as evidence that Trans people are trying to take over Easter!

Now, I consider myself to be Non-binary (specifically Demi-girl/Agender), but I tend to fly under the radar, which is very helpful since I live in a very, very red state. It doesn't hurt that my normal sense of personal style is very casual and all black. So, I can wear traditionally "men's" pants, and no one pays much attention to me, which is the way I prefer it. I hate anything that draws attention to myself.

So, I bit my tongue and hyperfocused on my work. Then, when I went home, the non-binary gremlin in me just couldn't be contained anymore; I opened Reddit and made a post about how no one is going around trying to steal stolen holidays.

Now, I was fully anticipating pissed off Christians to rain their uninhibited fake outrage down onto the comment section (which happened) but I wasn't anticipating a self-identified 60 yr old gay man to come into my comments saying things like, "Why would you put a Trans holiday anywhere near a religious holiday knowing every seven years it's gonna land on said holiday" and "As a gay man I believe that the one part of our community is stifling the rest of us."

Tell me you're transphobic without telling me you're transphobic.

Now, since I can't just ignore the sheer inaccuracy of his math; according to Google from 2001 to 2100, Easter will only land on March 31st 5 times. Five times in an entire century. The last time Easter was on March 31st, it was 2013. So, 11 years ago, or over a decade ago. No one gave a shit in 2013 that Easter and Trans Day were on the same day. But let the president acknowledge it in a statement and everyone loses their fucking minds.

So, why would you avoid celebrating something important in your life on the off chance that it might coincide with someone's religious holiday? Of course, you wouldn't. If your birthday is on Christmas, do you no longer have a birthday?

"Next, why wouldn't you place it in the month of pride then each day of pride month could have a different day celebrating each letter of the lbgtq+ community."

Yes, that is what Pride Month is for, celebrating the diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. But are you gay only in June?

But sadly, even some in our diverse community isolate and vilify trans individuals just like what this old gay dinosaur is doing. For 15 years, a vast majority didn't know or even give a shit that Trans Day existed. That is until a president acknowledged it.

"May I point out there's no gay holidays that coincide with Yom kipper or Ramadan."

True, Yom Kippur and Ramadan don't coincide with any "gay holidays," but Shavout is directly in the middle of Pride Month. Any outrage there?

"So just piss off the Christian's so they have one more thing to hate us for. I find many in our community asking for acceptance while giving none, just my opinion and nothing more."

How very accepting of you to say, my lord.

"Maybe it's time we all in the gay community and cis people give the whole year to the Trans community."

But they aren't asking for the year, or even a month. They just want one day that is their own. And even members of our own LGBTQ+ community can't even give them that.

"I'm gay so I can't be transphobic."

Your statements say otherwise. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you are absolved of your transphobia.

Perhaps it's time we stop placating these dusty ass old gay dinosaurs and call them out on their hateful thinking. Their "I got mine" attitude only harms our communities. Just because you won the fight for same sex marriage doesn't mean you're safe. The fight for equality is never-ending.

More and more of us are having our rights stripped away right before our very eyes. Roe v. Wade has already been overturned, and they aren't going to stop there. They never planned to stop there. They are very methodically chipping away at our rights. Right now, they are focusing their efforts on the trans community, slowly outlawing their very existence. And while they have you distracted by that, they are quietly overturning same sex marriage laws. Your rights aren't safe and never will be safe as long as we have members in our communities who subscribe to this kind of thinking.

#trans community #trans day of visibility #transgender #trans rights #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbt #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+#lgbtqplus #transphobes #reddit #nonbinary #demigirl #demisexual #agender

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mncxbe · 1 year

Note

Please Ignore this if you aren't taking requests rn, but I had an Idea, Like how would Fukuzawa, Oda, etc react if you would accidentally call them Dad? If you want you can add other characters by accidentally calling them brother or sister :3 (omg imagine Yosano)

Omg yes that's so good. Sorry it took so long to write this piece I'm currently a bit busy at work but I finally managed. I hope you like it♡

4:05

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑶𝒅𝒂, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

he is so so surprised when you accidently call him "dad"

oh boy he tries to keep it cool to keep up appearances, but as soon as he's alone he smiles so much

he's so happy that you see him like that

will remember your words for longer than you expected

A wave of fear washed over you when Dazai informed you that the president has just summoned you in his office. It wasn't like you did anything bad, yet you couldn't help but wonder why he wanted to see you.

"Mr. President?" you asked in a hushed voice as you stepped into his office with your head bowed. "You wanted to see me."

"Ah, Y/N, yes. Please take a seat" said the silver haired man as he motioned you towards a cushioned pillow on the ground. "Would you like some tea?"

You mumbled a small 'mhm' before sitting on the mat. "So why did you want to see me, sir? Did I do something?"

Your tried to hide your anxiety but the tone of your voice betrayed you. Fukuzawa lifted his gaze from the tea he was pouring, his ocean eyes narrowing at you.

"Why would you assume you did something wrong?" he inquired.

"Well..." you stuttered "You don't usually ask me to come to your office so I figured that I messed something up."

A heavy silence fell between the two of you; you could even hear your own racing heartbeat. But then Fukuzawa's lips curled into a gentle smile.

"Oh, Y/N. I just wanted to congratulate you for doing such a great job. Your work is invaluable to our organization and I wanted to personally thank you for your contribution."

The relief you felt upon hearing his praise could hardly be put into words; your lips stretched into a gleeful smile as you bowed your head.

"Thank you sir. I'm honoured to be a member of this agency and I really cannot express how happy I am that my hard work pays off, dad. I promise I won't disappoint you and-"

The look of surprise on Fukuzawa's face made you stop in dead in your tracks. What was wrong? You asked yourself as you went over your speech in your mind. And then you realized that you had just called him dad.

"Oh God I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think when I said that"

Fukuzawa's expression softened as he handed you your cup of tea; steam curling on its surface like grape vines.

"Don't worry about it" he said reassuringly "I don't mind it."

The two of you quietly sipped your sweet tea before he let you return to work. After you shut the door, Fukuzawa finally allowed himself to externalize the sheer amount of happiness he felt. There was nothing he loved more than being able to take care of the Agency's members, and the fact that you considered him a father figure was proof that he was doing a good job.

𝑶𝒅𝒂

he smiles so gently♡

if you get embarassed he pets your head and reassures you that it's alright

Oda's really proud of himself; from then on he always brings you curry at work

It was only eight months ago that the Port Mafia decided to recruit you as an assistant. Your job was pretty basic: compling reports for different missions and sorting paperwork but you loved it since it allowed you to meet almost all higher ups in the organization.

This is how you ended up getting acquainted with Oda. Although he was around seven years older than you, he was surprisingly high spirited and young at heart and unlike other members of the Mafia he was always kind to you. Oda would often swing by the dusty underground room that acted as your office and ask how you day was, bringing you snacks and tea.

After a few months his visits became something natural and at times, when you were absorbed in your work, you didn't fully acknowledge his presence.

"Hi, Y/N. How's your day going?" asked the brunette as he shut the wooden door, causing a cloud of dust to rise from the floor.

"Jesus" he coughed "You really need to clean this place one day"

"Yea, I know. I just cannot find a damn broom in this entire building. Oh and I'm good thanks for asking. What about you?" you replied, typing away on your laptop. The keys on the computer board clicked faintly as you quickly ran your digits over them.

Your comment made Oda chuckle lightly "Well, my day's fine too. I'm gonna go on a mission later but I wanted to bring you lunch first" he said as he placed a cardboard box on your desk.

"Oh, thanks dad" you babbled out, still not taking your eyes off of the glowing screen.

It was only when the man let out a hoarse laughter that you actually snapped out of your trance.

"Did you just call me dad?" he asked in a playful voice, causing your face to heat up.

"Uh... Did I? I guess I did" you said in attempt to play it off. "Do you mind it?"

"Of course not, Y/N. It's really nice to know that you see me as a father figure."

For a few seconds your gaze held his and you could see the joy sparkling in his eyes; he was giddy, like a kid in a candy store.

The wholesome moment was however abruptly interrupted by a blink; you had just received another e mail from your boss, asking you to go over some old documents from the archive.

"Uuh this work just never ends!" you cried out, throwing your hands in the air in a desperate gesture.

Oda only chuckled at your outburst, his smile widening. "Well then I'll leave you to it, but don't forget to eat something too"

"I won't. Thanks Oda and good luck on the mission"

The man lazily waved at you before stepping out of the room, a gentle smile making its way to his lips. She called me dad. He kept chanting those words to himself throughout the whole day, his heart swelling with unbounded pride and joy.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

sweet baby, he already knew that you saw him as a brother, but actually calling him that makes him smile so much

he pinches your cheeks till they're red, good luck getting rid of him now

as someone who never actually had a family until he met Fukuzawa, having someone else see him as an older brother is such an honour

from then on, Ranpo shares more of his sweets with you

You've been working at the Detective Agency for a couple of months now and Ranpo was your mentor. He had found you one day at a crime scene, hovering over the body with an inquisitive look on your face.

"Sirs, it may look like this man committed suicide but based on the angle the blade was tilted at I can rule it a homicide. There's no way he could've held the knife like that" you announced confidently as one of the police officers dragged you away from the corpse.

You were hectically swinging your arms and legs in attempt to free yourself. "I'm telling you, it wasn't suicide. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Shut up, brat" spat the vexed policeman as he showed you past the yellow tape that restricted the perimeter. "You better not cross the line again unless you wanna end up in jail. This is your last warning" he said before walking away from you.

You huffed in annoyance, turning on your heels when you suddenly bumped into the young detective.

"You're quite observant, young lady" he said in his usual jovial voice. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Seventeen..." you mumbled, your eyes narrowing at him "And who are you?"

The young man chuckled as a wide smile made its way to his lips. "I'm Ranpo Edogawa, the world greatest detective. And you, miss, are in great luck. I want to rectruit you as my apprentice."

From then on you accompanied Ranpo to crime scenes and solved countless cases together, the friendship between you growing stronger by the day.

One Monday evening as you returned to the office from a crime site, you enthusiastically pulled Ranpo in for a hug.

"Thanks, nii-chan. This was my biggest case so far and I couldn't have solved it without you." you beamed.

For a brief moment the detective was awestruck; he was accustomed to your sudden affections, but it was the first time you've ever called him big bro.

As if sensing his bewilderment you quickly pulled away from him, a deep shade of pink tinting your cheeks as you fumbled for words.

"I'm sorry Ranpo I don't know why I said that."

The detective regained his composure, flashing you his signature smirk "Hey, hey don't worry, Y/N" he said gently as he caressed the crown of your head. "You can always count on your big bro. Let's go get some sweets now, ok? My treat."

You nodded eagerly and began walking towards the closest convenience store; Ranpo stood behind, his emerald eyes following your movements. A warm feeling, which was most likely a blend of love and pride, bloomed in his chest as he watched you open the glassy door of the shop.

"You coming?" you yelled at him in attempt to cover the sound of the incoming traffic and he quickly followed you. The door closed behind him with a thud as you entered the shop.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she blushes so much but she's so happy

much like Ranpo she's deeply moved when she hears your words

expect her to take you on more shopping sprees

"Keep up, Y/N. We still have a few more shops to check out" said the woman with a wide grin on her face as she entered yet another store.

It was the beginning of summer and almost all boutiques had clothes on sale, which meant that your colleague ought to take you on one of her infamous shopping sprees. Since you only started your job only a few months ago, you couldn't afford most of the ellegant garments displayed in the shop windows, so you simply resolved to carrying around Yosano's bags.

"Naa girly wait for me" you whined as you struggled to balance the shiny box Yosano just handed you.

The woman, seemingly ignoring your complaints, walked to a nearby mannequin and scanned the dress it was wearing with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me, Y/N. Do you like this?" she asked in a contemplative voice.

You considered the dress for a moment before speaking; it was truly gorgeous, a black piece adorned with intricate purple and pink patters which looked like curls of smoke.

"It's very beautiful, Akiko. You'd look great in it."

Your friend sighed, her head dropping to the side as her violet eyes met yours "That wasn't the question, Y/N. I asked if you like it."

You were taken aback by her blunt words but quickly nodded, earning a smile from the woman.

"Good. Then try it on" she said, taking a clothes hanger from a nearby rack.

You didn't bother to hide your excitement as you rushed to the changing rooms and slipped into the dress; and it fit you like a glove, perfectly hugging all your curves. With excitement burning in your eyes, you stepped out of the dressing room.

"Soo what do you think?" you asked your friend, performing a twirl.

"Oyy you look so hot girl" she cheered "Wear this to the next event we go to and you'll sweep everyone off their feet."

"I highly doubt that" you giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Plus I can't afford it anyway"

"Nonsense! I'm buying it for you" announced the woman with a proud smile on her face.

"But I can't accept it, Aki. It's way too-"

Yosano cut you short with a swift motion of her hand "Then consider it a birthday gift. You're turning 20 next month right?"

An ecstatic smile made it's way to your lips as you hugged her. "Thanks, nee chan" you whispered, your arms snaking around her neck.

Upon hearing your words Yosano's face turned a light shade of pink but she wasted no time to slip her hands around your torso, pulling you closer to her. Happiness bubbled up inside her when she felt you giggle agaist her shoulder.

"Anytime, Y/N" she smiled back

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #yosano akiko #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #oda bsd #oda x reader #bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa #bungou stray dogs ranpo

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roosterforme · 2 years

Text

The Deployment Diaries Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes you to the cemetery where his parents are buried. It's bittersweet, but he gets to introduce you to them as their future daughter-in-law.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff and swearing

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

You didn't think you would ever stop smiling. You were shocked and surprised and happier than you could have ever imagined.

Covered in dust and surrounded by boxes, you sat straddling Bradley's thighs as he sat back against the wall of the storage unit, mirroring your grin with his own as his hands caressed your back.

"Roo," you whispered, pressing your lips to his over and over again and running your fingers through his hair. "You're my fiancé."

He smiled against your lips. "Say that again, Sweetheart." His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you snug against him as his hands crept under your shirt. He nipped your lips, always so needy for you.

"You're my fiancé! We're going to get married," you told him, and the words sounded so surreal.

"Keep saying it," he told you, running his fingers along your lower back.

"I'm going to be your wife!"

Bradley ran his lips along your neck and moaned. "That's the sexiest thing I have ever heard." He kissed his way up your neck to your mouth. "I'll never get tired of hearing that."

You giggled and held his face in your hands. You couldn't stop looking at the beautiful ring. Your beautiful ring. It had once belonged to Carole Bradshaw, a woman who lived in your mind like a legend, or some sort of mythical princess.

But Bradley never took his eyes off you. "That ring fits you perfectly."

You smiled. "It really does."

"And it looks perfect on your hand."

"I love it."

Bradley smiled and caressed your legs through your yoga pants. "She made me promise to keep it. I didn't want to. I wanted to bury her with it, but she wouldn't let me. She told me I would need it for my wife someday. I can't believe she was right. I've been trying to get here to pick up the ring for months, Baby Girl. And I couldn't wait another minute to give it to you."

You curled up against his chest and breathed him in. "This was perfect, Roo. This was so fucking perfect."

"Should we call you parents?" he asked softly.

"Yes!" you gasped, scrambling to get your phone out of your pocket. "They are going to be as shocked as I am!"

Bradley just chuckled as you unlocked your phone. "Nah. I already talked to your dad about it."

Your hand froze over your phone screen as you looked up at him. "You did?! When?"

"When we went to visit them for Christmas."

"Are you serious? That was like seven months ago! You've been thinking about this for seven months?" You were so shocked, you set your phone down and gaped at him. He nodded and gazed at you with those lovesick puppy eyes.

"I've been thinking about it longer than that. I've been thinking about it since the beginning."

"The beginning?" you whispered. But you knew deep inside he had always been yours, as long as you wanted him.

"Yes, Baby Girl," he replied and rolled you onto your back on the dusty floor. You smiled as he settled between your legs, and you made out with him for what seemed like a very long time.

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

Bradley couldn't stop kissing you. He kissed your left hand and the ring on your finger while he drove. You finally managed to call your parents, and he couldn't stop laughing as your mom and dad both screamed Congratulations into the phone. You had to cut your mom short, as she was already asking about wedding planning when Bradley pulled up to the entrance of the cemetery.

As far as he was concerned, he would marry you today, covered in dust from the storage unit. The details did not matter much to him, and he let you know that as you hung up the phone with the promise of calling your parents back soon.

"We don't need to plan anything fancy if you don't want to, Sweetheart. We can go to Maryland when you're ready and get married there. Just don't make me wait too long, okay?" he asked softly as he parked the horrible rental car near the gravesites.

Bradley took your hand after you grabbed your backpack off of the back seat, and he led you silently down a winding path to where his parents were buried. Once you saw both headstones and read them, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tight.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you whispered against his neck.

Bradley kissed your messy hair. "I'm sure they are absolutely shocked at the moment that I brought my future wife to meet them," he said with a chuckle.

"I doubt they are shocked, Roo. You're the most lovable person I've ever known," you replied with a kiss to his lips. Then you turned away from him and went to sit in the grass, facing both headstones with your backpack in your lap. Bradley watched you rummage around for a few seconds before you pulled out two envelopes and some silk flowers.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down next to you.

You handed him two bundles of red and yellow flowers tied with white ribbons. "I have flowers for them. Artificial ones, but I figured they would last longer. And I wrote them each a note." You set your backpack to your other side, and Bradley felt tears in his eyes. The engagement ring caught a ray of sunlight and glittered as you showed him envelopes that had Carole and Nick written in your handwriting.

Bradley pulled you onto his lap and held you, most likely smashing the silk flowers. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing your hair over and over.

"For what?" you asked softly.

"For being you. I don't know, Baby Girl," he said as he let some tears fall into your hair. "You make everything better and easier."

He held you for a while until his breathing evened out again, and then he situated you on his lap, so you were facing the headstones again. "Mom, Dad, meet your future daughter-in-law."

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

You sat with Bradley and talked to and about his parents for a long time. You learned a lot more about them as Bradley spoke, and he answered all of your questions as well as he could. When Bradley's stomach started growling, you set the notes down under the bouquets and you both stood. On the walk back to the car, Bradley asked you what you had written in the notes.

"I just told them how much I love you and let them know I'll take care of you," you said with a smile.

You ordered sandwiches from a deli while Bradley went next door to buy some sturdy shipping boxes and packing tape. Then you made your way back to the storage unit in the afternoon heat to eat and start packing things up.

Bradley sorted through everything with you, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. You held up items and he told you keep or donate, placing kisses on your neck and shoulders as you went.

"More Hawaiian shirts!" you squealed when you came to the box he pushed aside earlier. "Definitely all keepers. Let's take them home in the suitcase so nothing happens to them."

"I agree," he said, taking them and neatly folding them. "We'll take them and some of the photos back with us. Everything else we can ask Brenda to mail to us."

"And all of that hideous furniture that belonged to your grandparents can get donated. Sorry, not sorry." Bradley was delighted that you agreed with him about that.

Once the rental car was loaded up with everything you wanted to keep, including Carole's wedding dress which was packed neatly in a box, Bradley drove you to the hotel.

Once inside the elevator, you climbed into his arms and started kissing him. He carried you blindly down the hallway with his lips on yours, fighting with the key card and the suitcase once he located the correct room.

"I want to have sex with my husband-to-be," you whispered as he set you down and literally threw your bags into the room. You watched him throw the suitcase inside and said, "Damn, Roo. You're worse than the TSA."

But his lips were on yours again as he scooped you up. "Gonna carry you over the threshold, and then I'll give you anything you want, Sweetheart."

You giggled. "I don't think the threshold thing matters until we are actually married," you whispered before peppering kisses along his neck.

"No harm in practicing," he groaned, carrying you swiftly inside and kicking the door closed. He set you down once more and started undressing you, your discarded clothing ending up all over the floor. "Now tell me what you want, Sweetheart. I'll give you anything you want. Always."

Moaning for him, you pulled him into the bathroom and rubbed your naked body all over him. "Get undressed, Roo," you whispered. You did your best to keep kissing him while he was peeling his clothing off, but then you broke away to turn the shower on.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered, "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

You coaxed him into the shower with you. "Well, I'm not going anywhere, Roo," you said with a smile, holding up your hand with the ring. "So I guess I'll just keep on happening to you over and over again."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you hard against him. "That's all I want," he murmured against your cheek and your neck as the water washed away all the dust and grime from both of your bodies. His lips connected with yours as he took your left hand in his right one, running his thumb across your ring. "I was made to be with you, Baby Girl." You moaned and pulled his lips back to yours. "It just makes so much sense," he told you between kisses.

You could feel his hard length against the soft skin of your belly, and you caressed him as he made love to your mouth with his. He pushed you back against the wall, teasing your breasts with his hands before letting them trail up into your messy hair.

"I love you, Roo," you told him, earning a look of adoration. His chocolatey brown eyes explored your face as you ran your hand along the scars on his neck and cheek. Then you turned to face the tiled wall, pressing your butt back against him. Bradley leaned into you, smashing your breasts to the cold tile. He took both of your hands, pressed your palms flat against the wall, and placed kiss after sweet kiss to the ring on your left hand.

"Roo," you moaned as you turned your head to watch his lips connect with your hand and wrist, his mustache brushing against the diamonds.

He covered your left hand with his, fingers splayed with yours, pressing you against the wall. His right hand glided over your wet body, touching you as the steamy water cascaded over you both.

"Roo, please," you hissed when his fingers found your clit. Your head tipped back against his shoulder.

His fingers dipped inside you. "You're so wet for me, Baby Girl."

"You always make me like this," you whined, rocking your hips back against him. He always did this to you, made you needy beyond belief. You'd never given yourself so completely to a man before him. You never wanted anyone else.

His mouth worked against your neck. "I'm gonna be such a good husband to you. Always take care of you. Always give you what you want," he promised, nudging your legs apart with his knee, his right hand reaching down to tease your pussy from behind before thrusting into you.

Bradley fucked you with the promise of tomorrow on his lips. He made you come as he gripped your left hand and the ring he had just given you. And then he came with your name on his delicious tongue and his hand caressing yours.

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

Bradley could not stop touching your hand where you were wearing your ring. That ring had always provided him so much comfort in his life when he was a kid, and it was doing that and more for him now too. Every time he kissed your fingers, you giggled.

"Let's get married tomorrow," he kept saying, and you smiled at him every time.

"Do you really want to?" you asked him while he was in a delirious state of bliss as you washed his hair in the shower post sex. "I mean... we could?"

He opened his eyes and looked at you as he shook his head. "No way. You deserve to have your parents there. Hell, I want your parents there, Sweetheart."

"You're right," you agreed, kneading his scalp just like you always did, making him groan. "But our layover on Sunday is in Vegas... just saying... I wouldn't be opposed to Elvis marrying us. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches and champagne?"

"You're a fucking dream. You know that, right? Like, better than anyone else who exists. So much better than everyone else, it's not even fair."

When you smiled up at him like you were doing right now, he knew he would do anything for you. For his fucking wife to be. So he dried you off, wrapped you in a fluffy robe and carried you to bed.

"Are you hungry?" he asked you as he pulled on clean underwear and jeans.

"Kind of. Why are you getting dressed?" you asked, reaching out to him with grabby hands. "I thought we were going to cuddle."

"We will," he promised, kissing your nose. "But I'm going to pick up a pizza unless you want something different. I'm starving, and I'll need energy to make love to my fiancée all night."

You giggled and let yourself topple back against the pillows, the robe riding up your thighs. "Pizza sounds yummy," you said, watching him as he paused with his shirt half buttoned. Now he was distracted by your pretty pussy on display for him.

He grinned at you as he put one knee on the bed. "Pizza can wait a little longer," he whispered as he crawled up the bed and pushed the robe up to your waist. "This looks yummier. And I am starving." You bit your lip and eased your legs further apart for him, and he immediately buried his face in your wetness.

Bradley ate your pussy, his mustache glistening as he licked and sucked. Your hands were in his damp hair, tugging him to the exact spot you needed him. "Oh, Bradley," you whined, moving your hips back and forth so his nose bumped your clit over and over again. He grabbed the backs of your thighs and spread you open further.

"So pretty," he whispered, kissing you all around your thighs and lower belly. He shoved two fingers inside you, and you cried out. "God, I love this pussy," he said before licking broad, lingering stripes across your clit. You were crying out in earnest now, squeezing around his index and middle fingers. "Can't wait to call you my wife."

After that, you just lay on the bed, moaning his name, completely fucked out, diamond ring sparkling in the lamplight. He gently kissed your legs before leaning over your body to kiss your lips. He felt your tongue dart out to taste yourself on him.

He moaned against your lips. "I'll be back soon with some food, Baby Girl. You need anything else while I'm out?"

You shook your head, your eyes still closed. A smile danced along your lips as you whispered, "Just come right back. I still want you to snuggle with me."

"I will," he promised before placing loud, sloppy kisses all over your face and neck. You were still laughing as he closed the hotel room door behind him.

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

After Bradley left, you sprawled out across the bed on your stomach, staring at your ring. "It's beautiful," you whispered. You let your mind drift, thinking about where you might want to marry Rooster and who you would invite. The guest list would be quite short. No more than twenty people, unless Bradley would want to invite his extended cousins. You hadn't been kidding; you would marry Bradley tomorrow if he said that was what he truly wanted.

You closed your eyes, and it wasn't hard to imagine Nick buying this ring for Carole. You thought about everything you had learned about them. You only knew their love through Bradley, but you loved him so much, you knew they must have been wonderful too. You felt tears in your eyes. You let yourself feel sad that you would never get to have in-laws. You'd never get to know Nick and Carole except through their son.

You wiped away some tears just as Bradley arrived back with a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He ran over to the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked, setting everything on the floor.

More tears fell as you shook your head, "I was just thinking about your parents. I wish I could have met them." You sniffed as he collected you into his arms.

"I thought maybe you already changed your mind about marrying me," he whispered against your ear with a chuckle.

"No!" you told him as you swiped at more tears. "Never."

"Let's snuggle and eat some pizza. And I'll tell you more about Carole and Nick," Bradley told you as he got situated on the bed with you sitting back against his chest. "I like talking about them when I miss them. It helps."

So you relaxed back against his body as you nibbled on a slice of pizza, the vibrations of his raspy voice soothing you. And then you shared the bottle of chilled champagne that Bradley bought, pressing your lips to his between sips with more frequency until you told him you needed him again.

He loved you all night long, just grinning every time you reached for him again. "Whatever you want, Baby Girl," became his motto, and you decided you could certainly get used to this. You could certainly get used to having him as your husband.

You were both pretty exhausted by the time you got to Brenda's house the following afternoon. Bradley had his hand at the small of your back, smoothing the fabric of your pretty sundress while he introduced you as his fiancée.

When Brenda shrieked and pulled you in for a hug, you laughed and let her squeeze you. She examined Carole's ring on your finger and hugged you again. Bradley smiled and introduced you to everyone else as well, all of whom were lovely and so happy for you.

Brenda served dinner and drinks, and it made you feel good to meet some of the people who had known Bradley his entire life. And then Brenda promised to mail the shipping boxes to you on Monday. When Bradley tried to give her cash to pay for it, she insisted it would be an early wedding gift from her.

On Sunday, you asked Bradley if you could stop at the cemetery again. You ended up stretched out in the grass with him, sharing even more of your secrets and learning more of his. That's how it always was with Bradley. Everything came so naturally, you couldn't believe you tried to fight this feeling in the beginning. But you seemed to have no fight left in you when it came to him now. You loved being with him. You loved how he made you feel.

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

After the long flights back to San Diego on Sunday evening, Bradley was happy to be back home with you. Bob had dropped Tramp off after dinnertime, so the pup was already waiting for you both.

"Mommy and daddy are getting married," he told Tramp over and over as the dog licked both of your faces. "Gonna get you some human siblings soon, too."

You kissed Bradley's lips, and he watched you take your engagement ring off of your finger as you walked to the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" he asked, setting Tramp down and following you.

"Getting ready for bed, Roo. It's late, and tomorrow's your first day back at work," you reminded him.

"But why are you taking your ring off?" he asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

You just grinned at him as you set it on your nightstand. "So we can give everyone a proper surprise tomorrow night. Let's get everyone to meet us at the Hard Deck to celebrate your first day back at work since your injury." You turned in his arms and rested your cheek against his chest.

Bradley smiled and kissed the top of your head. "And then we can tell them we're getting married? Surprise them all?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist. "We can celebrate both of those things."

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

As soon as Bradley got to sit in his F/A-18 the following morning, he sighed in relief. The past month of being grounded had been unbearable at times. You were the only thing that got him through it. He ran his gloved hands over all of the controls, preparing for a clean take off.

And when he wore his flight suit home and saw your eyes light up when he walked in the front door, he pulled you against him for a kiss. You were wearing your ring again which made him simultaneously lovesick and horny. He kissed your hand and ran his thumb over the diamonds as you started to undress him.

"Everyone meeting us at the Hard Deck later?" you asked as your hand met the bare skin of his chest.

"Yeah. How about Cam and Maria?"

"They'll be there, ready to celebrate your healed injuries."

"Excellent," Bradley whispered as you led him to the couch. "Now let me celebrate you."

He sat down with his flight suit and underwear around his ankles, socks and boots still on, and watched you undress in front of him. With each bit of your uniform you dropped to the floor, Bradley grew harder. As you straddled his thighs and teased yourself with the tip of him, his cock jumped in your hand.

"Someone's eager," you whispered, slipping your wet pussy down around him.

"Always eager for you." He held your hips and ass in his big palms as you rode him, your tits brushing his tongue and mustache every time you slid along his length.

Bradley pulled your nipple into his mouth and teased you with his tongue. You moaned and held his head to your breasts. "You feel so fucking good, Baby Girl," he whispered, grinding his hips up to meet yours and teasing your other nipple. "Always so good."

You rode him until you came, squeezing his cock and drawing out his own orgasm. Then Bradley watched you pull your underwear on, and the idea of that cream pie inside you was going to stay with him for the rest of the night.

"I'm going to make you Marry Me Rooster for dinner," you said with a laugh as you slipped your bra into place. "Seems appropriate now."

He smiled as he stood and started to collect his flight suit. "Yeah, I'm gonna marry you. I was hooked by the first time you made that for me."

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

You and Bradley arrived at the Hard Deck right after dinner. "You ready?" he asked, and you nodded with a smile. You jumped down from the Bronco and he took your left hand in his right one, leading you across the parking lot.

"I'm so excited," you told him, and you both shared the kind of smile that you knew would be stuck on your face for the rest of the night.

"Nat's gonna cry," Bradley told you as you walked across the deck and through the doors into the noisy bar. "And so will Mav."

"You really think so?" you asked him and you both strolled toward the pool table where most of your friends had gathered.

"There he is! Lieutenant Commander Rooster," Jake called out to Bradley. "And his face finally looks normal again. Not good or anything, but normal."

"Thanks a lot, Bagman," Bradley replied, but his smile was still stuck on his face.

"You had a good first day back?" Bob asked as he snacked on some peanuts. But Phoenix was eyeing you and Bradley with suspicion, her eyes even darting to where he was rubbing the pad of his thumb along your ring. Her gaze flew up to meet yours. She knew the two of you had gone away for the weekend, and now she was smiling too.

"Yeah. Being grounded sucked," Bradley said loudly, and now Cam and Maria were heading over as well. "The only good part was," Bradley announced, kissing your cheek, "Getting to spend so much time with my wife-to-be."

You laughed and held up your hand, and a chorus of cheers erupted in your own private corner of the bar. "It's about damn time!" Phoenix yelled, jumping up and down and spilling her drink everywhere.

You felt yourself being hugged and congratulated, and you watched as Maverick appeared and pulled Bradley into a hug as well. He had been right, there were tears in Mav's eyes as well as Phoenix's.

Jake pulled you in for a tight hug, and now you were crying a little bit too. "Congratulations, Angel. I knew he'd love you forever," he whispered in your ear. Then he pulled back and loudly told you, "It's probably a good thing you didn't go out with me. I would have ruined you for Bradshaw."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the cocky grin on his face. "Thanks for being sweet, Jake," you said, earning a kiss on your cheek.

Bradley shared a hug with Jake before Nat tearfully wrapped her arms around his waist. "Bradley, can I be your best maid? Or woman of honor? I don't know what it's called, but I love you so much, Soul Sister."

"Of course, Nat," he told her, smiling at you as you got hugs from Cam and Maria.

Then Penny announced, "Champagne for everyone!" and the bar erupted in a loud toast. Bradley held you snug against him, running his hands along your back and kissing you while everyone cheered.

He never stopped touching you, even as you sipped on identical beer bottles and showed your ring off to everyone who asked to see it. He never stopped kissing you for more than a minute, seemingly unable to be away from you right now. And that was okay with you, because you wanted him by your side.

"Any wedding plans yet?" Maverick asked, thumping Bradley on the shoulder.

"Not yet," you replied. "But hopefully this year?"

Bradley looked at you with narrowed eyes. "Definitely this year. And I already have some very strong opinions about the honeymoon," he whispered, just for you. "How about two weeks, Hawaii, me and you and nonstop sex?"

You blushed and pressed your lips together as his mustache brushed your neck. "You just want an excuse to wear all of your shirts in their natural habitat."

"No. I want an excuse to be undressed with my wife for as many days as possible. Now let me play you a song, and then we can go home so I can love you."

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

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718 notes · View notes

meatonfork · 2 years

Text

A Change

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim; grim x oc

warnings: none

summary: maybe visiting your apartment actually had some benefits aside from the impending loneliness

————————————————————————————————————————

they’d noticed a change.

you had finally decided to go home after a mission. there was no point in you even renting the apartment out if you never even went to it.

it was dusty and cold. the heat was off due to you never stepping foot in the place for months. the bare minimum of furniture accompanied by a lack of items that claimed someone did in fact live there.

setting grocery bags on the counter, you huffed out a sigh. your eyes drifted over the liminal space, feet trudging to the light switch. spoon sat on the counter, gnawing at the plastic bags.

a buzz on the counter called your attention to your phone sat face down on the smooth surface.

opening it, you were met with a message.

you doin good kid?

soap.

yeah! all good, bud. thanks xx

and you left it at that.

you could lie over text; it was easier. they couldn’t see your tells, or the way you tensed a bit before throwing on your best smile.

it was hard. coming back to an empty apartment when your squad, aside from simon, all had someone to go home to. you felt guilty for leaving ghost there alone, but you knew you needed to tend to your own apartment.

you leaned your elbows on the counter, head in your hands. it felt wrong. tears welled in your eyes, the sting being all too familiar. you could feel your cheeks heating up. you missed having someone to go home to. you missed your siblings. sometimes, you even missed your awful parents, because at least they were there.

maybe i should’ve asked price to go home with him instead.

the tears traveled down the apple of your cheeks and down your neck, getting lost beneath the fabric of your shirt.

shaking your head as if to push away the thought, you wiped the tears and you started unpacking the grocery bags. you didn’t buy much, just enough to make due on your leave. you probably wouldn’t be back in a few months anyway, it didn’t really matter. but, when you inevitably did come back, you didn’t want rotting food in your pantry.

putting the plastics bags into a little cubby, a knock sounded at the door. it was soft, but it had purpose behind it.

your back tensed, no one knew where you lived. none of your boys knew, and it was for a reason. you feared they would hover. and that was the last thing you’d needed. sometimes, you needed time alone.

on high alert, you moved towards the door. slow steps lead you to the frame, and you shifted to look through the peephole.

confusion clouded your mind as you saw a girl on the other side. she wasn’t particularly tall, but she was still taller than you. dark hair with curtains bangs hiding a bit of her face, and round glasses sat upon her nose.

with your head cocked to the side, you opened the door a crack.

“uh.. hi? can i help you?” you cleared your throat. she was pretty. dark brown, peach blossom shaped eyes looked back at you.

“yeah! i just moved in a couple months ago, and i’ve never seen you before. do you live here?” she offered a small smile, shifting on both feet.

it clicked. you actually had neighbors. you always assumed you did, but never went out of your way to meet them.

hiding your shock, you answered, “oh! uh, yes. i do. i’ve just been at work. i haven’t really had the time to come back i guess. i kinda just stay there instead of coming back.”

“well, that seems like a tough job. it’s nice to meet my absent neighbor. i’m mei, by the way!” she smiled and stuck her hand out.

grasping her hand in your smaller one, you gave it light but firm shake.

“you too, mei. don’t get used to seeing me around.” you offered a sad smile, eyes during just a tad bit down. “i’ll be gone again soon.”

“oh! uh, okay! i better get back. my cat is probably wondering where i went. see you around, neighbor!”

“yeah. see you around, mei.”

and with that, you shut the door softly.

a soft meow from behind you pulled a small gasp from your mouth.

“spoon! you scared me.” you laughed out.

spoon sat there, staring you down.

“what? i didn’t even do anything. i just told her the truth.” an exasperated sigh left your lips at the realization of talking to you kitten. “whatever, man.”

———

it was two days later, lounging on your couch and finishing off a report you had to drop off in a few days, that another soft yet firm knock at your door sounded through the apartment.

you opened the door quicker this time, assuming it was maintenance or an odd solicitor.

“oh! hey, mei.” you smiled.

“hey! i know this is weird, but i was wondering if i could use your bathroom? they shut the water off to my apartment because a pipe broke in the kitchen.” she was in comfy clothes. sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of converse.

“oh. um, sure. come on in. sorry, it’s pretty boring. again, i’m never really here.” you side stepped, and let her in.

“it’s okay. i don’t mind. thanks so much!” she shuffled passed you, and you pointed out the bathroom to her. thank god you stocked the bathroom, or that would’ve been awkward.

you followed behind her when she stopped.

“you okay?” your head tilted as your eyes focused on the back of her hair that was thrown up in a bun, similarly to yours.

“what’s this?” she pointed out the report splayed across the coffee table.

“oh, just work stuff.” you chuckled before turning to put it all in the manila folder.

“still working on your time off? man, your job sucks.” she laughed before making her way to the bathroom.

you sighed, looking to spoon who now sat in your seat.

you decided to make some tea while waiting for mei to come out of the bathroom.

a squeal behind you made you jump, twirling to look back.

“what!” your heart was racing. being on edge constantly was not helping you in the slightest.

“your cat is so cute! oh my goodness!” you watched as she reached her hand out to the small void sitting in your couch.

“oh, spoon? yeah, she’s something else haha.” your heart calmed, a hand over it as if it to still it.

“she’s very cute. i like the name too.” she peered over at you while still petting the kitten.

“i found her at work, decided to keep her with me. everyone back there loves her.”

“i can see why. very, very cute.” she smiled up at you from her crouched stance, before standing and making her way to the door. “thanks for letting me use the bathroom, i’ll be out of your hair now.”

“yeah, not a problem. have a good day, mei!”

“you too, neighbor.”

and she was gone.

as the rest of the month dragged on, you found that either of you would invite the other over for a movie night almost every other night.

you didn’t like to be alone in an empty apartment, and mei enjoyed having you around.

in time, you found that you enjoyed having mei around too.

she helped you redecorate your apartment. a nicer couch, a new rug, a cat tree for spoon. even wall art, which you never even thought to buy- because why? but what mei said was set in stone, and you put it up anyway.

telling mei you had to go back to work for a while was bittersweet. you missed your boys, they were your family. but, god, you would miss mei.

she was a breath of fresh air when you desperately needed it. like when you go swimming in the deep end of the pool, but you didn’t take a deep enough breath.

———

they noticed the change. the month you were gone had changed you. it wasn’t very noticeable, unless they knew that they were supposed to be looking for it.

ghost noticed first. but seeing as he was your best friend, it was expected.

gaz and price fell in quickly, noticing the slight pep in your step.

and finally, soap was queued in when you laughed lighter and you smiled more.

it was a nice change.

you had also become more careful during missions.

it’s not that you weren’t alert and on edge before, but now it was heightened. you were constantly checking over your shoulder. even on base. you made sure to get hurt less often.

you would still take a bullet or a stab wound for your boys, no hesitation. but, it was almost as if you had a new push for a will to live. to be okay.

that was, until a particular mission where you almost lost your life.

laswell had put your team on a human trafficking task.

“take them all down.” was all she said. and you were damned if you didn’t.

that was how you found yourself watching your lieutenant in a knife fight, his gun thrown to the ground. you were across the street, lining up for the shot, but ghost’s back was to you. you couldn’t get the target without shooting your best friend first. and you absolutely were not doing that.

you were about to inform your captain of your predicament, moments frantic, when i red dot appearing on ghost’s back paused your movements.

you didn’t even think, mind going a million miles an hour. you just ran.

a gun shot rang out, your body falling to the ground as a cry left your mouth. a blinding white pain burst through your chest.

you groaned as you fell in the dirt, blood pooling around your body.

“oh, fuck.”

“grim! what the fuck, kid. we need medical!” your body was flipped around and a pressure was put on your chest, just below your heart.

opening your eyes, you saw a skull staring back at you.

“hey, kid. keep your eyes open for me, yeah? why the fuck did you do that?” he grunted as he put more pressure on your chest.

you groaned, quickly sucking in breath as he applied more pressure, “couldn’t let you get shot, l.t.”

“i was fine. we need medical, now!”

you couldn’t hear very well, the blood loss making you tired. you wanted to take a nap.

“kid. hey, grim. eyes open. c’mon, kid.” he lightly slapped your face, but you could barely register the dull pats on your cheek.

———

a beeping to your left slowly got louder as you gained consciousness.

your eyes started to softly flutter open, only for them to close upon bright lights blinding you.

soft groans left your lips as your finally opened your eyes, squinting until you adjusted.

“what the fuck was that.”

you startled, looking at the giant sitting to your left.

“what? what was what?” your throat was dry, voice strained. water was thrust into your view and you took it shakily. gulping down the water, you looked back to the lieutenant.

“i was fine, grim. why the fuck did you do that.” he crossed his arms, eyes boring into yours.

“you were going to get shot! on top of that, there was someone right next to you. what the hell was i supposed to do? just let you die? i can’t just sit and let that happen to my best friend.” you glared right back at him, not daring to move your upper body in anticipation of the pain that would follow.

“and now you’re shot.”

“yeah, but i ain’t dead. you would’ve been. i’d do it again, l.t.”

“don’t. don’t do it again. you’re being sent home for a bit to rest. not my decision, by the way. it’s price’s.” he sighed as he lent forward, elbows resting on your bed.

you picked at the fabric of the blanket that sat on your hips.

“i figured. taking a bullet to the chest isn’t prime condition to continue, yeah?” you looked back up to him.

he nodded and leaned back, “yeah, kid. glad you’re alright.” he stood and ruffled your hair.

“me too, simon.”

———

being home wasn’t as fun as you remembered.

the reason?

the guys had found your address. someone had to drive you home. that someone being soap. lovely, soap. he was now your number one enemy.

they were hovering, and you’d yet to see mei.

your lack of quiet time was taking a toll on you.

the four men currently sat in your living room, taking up the floor as you sat on the couch with your feet in simon’s lap, his hands holding onto your shins.

“you guys, i’m fine. i really don’t need you all here.” you rolled your eyes as they all turned to look at you.

“kid, you can barely walk, hmm?” price looked down at you, setting a cup of tea in your hands.

“yeah. and you look like shit, someone needs ta take care of ya.” soap chuckled, looking up at you from the floor. gaz chuckled as soap looked at him.

“no. no, i really don’t. you just wanted to know where i live and pester me. don’t act like the hero here, suds.”

“suds?? you just call me suds? yeah, i ain’t leavin’ for a bit.”

a groan sounded from you as you leaned your head back into the arm of the couch.

you were about to retaliate, when a knock sounded from the door. a soft, yet firm knock. mei.

everyone froze before you sat up, slowly making your way to your feet.

“no, i’ll get it. sit your ass down, and don’t move.” gaz jumped from the floor, pointing you down.

you threw your hands up in surrender and shook your head.

the click of the door opening sounded before gaz spoke out, “hello? can i help you?”

“oh my gosh, hello! um, is q here? they told me they were home, but i can come back at another time…” mei’s voice drifted through the room.

“you’re good! let her in, kyle!” you yelled back.

you heard shuffling before mei stood in front of you.

“hey, q! oh my god, what happened to you? and who are these men?” her eyes drifted over your small figure, wearing only a sports bra, showing off the gauze that had small blotches of blood on your chest.

“i’m okay! these are my coworkers. i won’t be going back to work for a bit.” you laughed a bit.

mei never knew what you did, but she’s already meeting your team. and it was 100% out of your control.

“q? what does ‘q’ mean, grim?” soap tilted his head as he looked to you.

“what the hell does ‘grim’ mean, love?” mei looked to you from next to simon.

you groaned, sitting up a bit. simon helping by reaching over and placing a hand on your arm. you nodded at him in thanks.

“i’m in the military, hun. grim is a callsign. these are the guys in my squad. i, uh, got shot.” you looked to her. she didn’t move, letting it sink in. the guys had gone quiet.

you hadn’t told her? who even is she?

“and ‘q’ is what mei calls me.” you looked over to soap.

“who is mei?” price looked between you and the asian girl standing at the end of your couch.

“mei is my girlfriend.”

it was silent. an awkward smile over took your face, “surprise!”

“mei, this is simon, john, kyle, and johnny. guys, this is mei.” you pointed everyone out. small waves and smiles was exchanged.

“how did you get shot?” mei questioned as she shuffled her feet.

“oh… um, simon was about to get shot. i took the bullet for him.” you looked between the two.

mei and simon looked at each other before she smacked him upside the head.

“oh my god! mei, what the fuck?” your eyes widened as you leaned forward.

“you’re supposed to be watching them! you’re their team!” she raised her voice at your lieutenant.

everyone’s widened, watching the exchange. until gaz burst out with laughter.

simon cleared his throat, “mm yeah. i am. cant really do that when they push me out the way of a bullet, though. can i?” his stare moved to you.

a blush rose on your cheeks, “that was definitely, 100% my fault, mei. i already got my ass chewed for it, too. don’t worry. i’m fine. and i’ll continue to be fine.”

“you better. move over, hulk.” mei stepped over simon’s legs, making to sit between you two. her arm wound around your back, pulling you to her side.

“oh my god, i love her already.” soap howled with laughter as simon sat still. stunned from mei’s shove.

“me too.”

———

it took a few days, but everyone left. and you only had mei looking over you. you two hadn’t talked too much about your profession and injuries since the team were looming around.

“hey, q? can we talk about this?” you paused the movie as she pointed to the gauze wrapped around your chest. her eyes were watering, and her hands held a slight shake.

“hmm? hun, im okay, really!” you held your hands out for her. she moved forward, head resting on your stomach.

“i’m okay, i promise.” you ran your hands through her long brown hair. she squeezed your stomach as she sniffled, spoon sitting on the back of her legs.

tears welled in your own eyes. a sniffle left your nose and mei looked up.

“babe, why are you crying?”

“i’m sorry.” you whispered back.

“don’t be, hun. it’s okay. like you said, you’re okay. hmm?” she settled back in your lap, fingers running up and down your thighs.

maybe coming home really wasn’t that bad. you finally had someone to come home to. you could leave the heat on, and mei would watch spoon for you- if you didn’t take her back to base. you could grocery shop for more than one person now.

and she may not be your blood family, who missed so much, but she was found family. just like your boys, who loved you unconditionally. no longer having to feel guilty for moving on, and doing it on your own.

the place you called home finally had a purpose, and warmed your heart.

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: i did it! it’s done :) i really hope you enjoyed it!!

1K notes · View notes

calaisreno · 1 year

Text

Trying It Out

May 20 Prompt: Experiment

“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind.

John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”

Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”

This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—

“You have a date.”

“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”

“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”

John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”

“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”

“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”

“What have you done with your hair?”

“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”

Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”

John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.”

Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.

He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.

John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds.

At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso.

“Nice shirt,” he ventures.

“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing.

Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink.

“It’s a good colour on you.”

John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks.

Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.

And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man.

The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink.

Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with.

He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock.

And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been.

Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?

Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John.

And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot!

“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.

John comes along.

It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed.

Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it.

“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne.

“Just meeting some friends,” John says.

It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one.

“Wanna come with me?”

Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies.

“Me?”

John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case.

“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug.

He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair.

“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”

“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”

Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”

And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”

John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!”

“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”

John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”

“An experiment?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”

Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”

“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”

“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss.

Flash Fiction / 1264 words

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear

#flashfiction #johnlock #bbc sherlock #may 2023 prompts

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acefantasyy · 1 year

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Thoughts on Vash seeking out physical touch pls?

Like his eyes trailing over your waist as he imagines how you’d feel in his hands, the weight of you perhaps comforting.. or how your breath would feel against his skin, how warm you’d be, etc

✦- Vash x gn. reader

✦cw. none that I can think of, just some touch starved content

✦note. I'm so mentally ill over him, I love him to bits an piece the thoughts are endless with this I swear!! 98 vash was in my mind when I wrote this but it could be perceived as 23 vash as well. Thank you for the request chris!! I had lots of fun writing it

✦word count- 1k

••

•There is without a doubt that he is so unbelievably touch starved, he’s been around for such a long time and has been on the run which obviously has left little to no room for him to become close to someone on a level close to romanticity. Well at least that was the case until he met you, a kind soul that didn’t think he was all the rotten things that were being spoken about him and wasn’t afraid to voice it when those harsh words got into the blonde’s head. That had been months ago now since his first meeting with you and when worse came to turn you set out beside him on his travels to the next towns he walked towards despite his multiple attempts to get you to not travel with him.

•And with those travels sometimes came cheap shared inn rooms and shared beds after the two of you continuously fought over who got the bed but disagreeing when the other said they would take the floor and use their sleeping bag. Those nights left the blonde wide awake from the proximity of both your bodies, but mainly the gentle breath’s he felt hit him while you slept and the way your hand would reach out to take hold of his own in the midst of slumber and gently stroke his knuckles with your thumb. Days after that those moments replay endlessly in his mind wondering what it could possibly feel like to hold you in his grasp while the two of you slept peacefully in another rickety hotel bed. He’d aimlessly wondered if you had ever shared his same thoughts too after a long tiring trip across the blazing desert to the next closest town, the constant light brush of your hand against his keeping the endearing thoughts running rampant in his frazzled brain.

•Vash’s thoughts are soon answered though when late one night when the two of you were in separate rooms for safety reason after a particularly dangerous situation involving a group of very angry gunman that tried to use you as leverage to get him to give himself up, your tired form slinking into his room in the dead of night and gently nudging him awake, asking if it was okay if you stayed with him instead of being alone. There’s an instant yes from him before he moves over and holds the dusty comforter up for you to crawl in beside him, your arms instantly wrapping around his middle in a bone crushing hug while you buried your face into his shirt leaving the blonde to keep his hands in the air not knowing what to do with them until you quietly tell him to hold you, which he gladly does, an arm wrapping around you in a gently embrace while the other slowly brushed through the back of your hair in attempt to calm you down the best he could.

•There’s no questions asked after that night from either of you and no more fighting over the bed, you now wordlessly wrapping his arms around you when the two of you laid down at night to sleep. During the nights spent under the stars your usual two sleeping bags are now joined together as one giant one to keep the cold out so you two would stay warmer but in all honesty you both had it in your minds that the real reason was because you didn’t want to sleep without the other. Vash admittingly tells you that he really enjoys being able to hold you close when the two of you sleep because it brings him a strong sense of comfort that he hasn’t really felt before and that he knows that you’d be safe in his arms while you slept the night away.

•At some point down the road the two of you eventually become an item after a very very long talk late one night about what being in a relationship with vash would be like to him, how it was much different from what the two of you had going on before and what it could possibly lead to in the future. And from that Vash finally tells you the truth about him and the reason why he was on the run and had such a high bounty, it leaves you a little stunned but nonetheless you tell him that it doesn’t change at all how you feel about him and you reassure him for however long it takes, you having him lay on you while you give him heartfelt affirmations all the while you run your fingers through his blonde hair and leave kisses along the crown of his head. He ends up drifting asleep to the sound of your heartbeat that night, the rhythmic thumps sounding like a ever so sweet lullaby to his ears.

•During the blonde’s darkest moments when everything seems to have gone worse for turn, the nights where he would spend long hours in the bathroom so as not to bother you, they are now spent in your arms on a rickety inn bed. When he voices to you that he feels as if nothing around him is real and that he doesn’t deserve the kindness that he’s received, you're there to ground him in the best way that you can, carefully pressing your weight onto him as you lay on his chest and tell him that everything is in fact real and that he deserves every bit of kindness that is given to him. You let him soak your night shirt in tears that he’s had to keep hidden for so long, and when sobs begin to wrack his body that he can no longer keep silent you press soft kisses to the apples of his cheeks and wipe away his tears with your thumbs. The press of your lips brings him a sense of calm, the plush warm softness making him sigh as his eyelashes flutter to a close.

✦tags. -

#ʚ. —𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 #trigun x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader

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