#and knowing in hindsight that they were both in the closet makes it worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youcouldmakealife · 9 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (153-154)

The Blanket War.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

153. Wage(r)s of War

If Jared knew the blanket was going to turn into a whole thing, he probably would not have stolen it.

Scratch probably: Jared definitely wouldn’t have stolen it. Even though it wasn’t really stealing, since it was originally his, and he never told his parents they could give it away to someone else. That’s not theft, that’s like — rightful ownership. Jared is the rightful owner of the blanket.

But still.

Jared’s saying this when it’s just a thing and not even a Thing yet.

Especially since the Canucks put two and two together, and are now giving Jared copious amounts of shit for losing his blanket to an Oiler not once but twice.

“As if you had nothing to do with us losing those games,” Jared says.

In hindsight, he probably should not have said that to his goaltender, but he still thinks volunteering him for the children’s hospital Halloween trip is unfair.

I applauded Jared’s survival instinct last time, but it’s terrible and Jared’s lucky his penance is ‘cheer up children’ and not ‘be murdered by goaltender’, frankly.

“I know,” Jared says, and irritably adjusts his eye patch. He’s supposed to be colouring, but he can’t see properly with it on, and he keeps colouring outside the lines just a bit, which is infuriating. He can’t take it off, though, because the one time he did Gabe said he looked like a hipster French stereotype, and when Gabe insults you it’s hard not to take it to heart.

I wrote this after having personally experienced eye patch-hood post surgery the first. Definitely fucks with your field of vision and your depth perception, among other things. The cool thing is it makes you look like a pirate, though!

Jared knew he shouldn’t have listened to Bryce about the striped shirt being pirate-y.

Striped shirts are very dependent on accessorizing. Eye patch? Pirate. Beret? Old school Parisian stereotype.

Bryce brought out the sling for the hospital, over a lazy cowboy costume made entirely out of shit in Bryce’s closet from his Flames days. He hasn’t strictly needed to wear it for awhile, but the kids all gravitate to Bryce, asking about it. The third time a child under the age of six solemnly told Bryce to get better soon Jared had to excuse himself and find Dmitry until he was comfortably annoyed again.

Jared carefully talking around things so he doesn’t use the word ‘adorable’. And this is a smart AF move by Bryce, who understands that kids will want to talk to someone they perceive as similar to them in that way. He truly does love kids, and he gets them too. (Don’t say it, Jared.)

“Look, J,” Bryce says delightedly. “The kids all signed my sling.”

His sling is an absolute mess of Sharpie. Though frankly the signatures of children aren’t significantly worse than the signatures of hockey players, so it’s no worse than some casts that got signed today.

Jared grunts.

Adorable.

“Are you still mad about the stripes?” Bryce says.

Jared grunts again.

“I like your moustache,” Bryce says.

Two kids, both named Logan, were very insistent that pirates had to have moustaches, and he couldn’t think of a counterpoint, so now he has a moustache.

Jared, you fool, don't listen to the Logans, that's not pirates. A skinny pencil moustache stereotypically belongs to…

Now he looks like a dude who had a kid scribble all over his face instead of a French hipster, at least. He takes the eye patch off.

“Bonjour, Mathématiques,” Gabe says as he comes up behind them. “Très belle moustache.”

THE FRENCH!!!

Also shoutout to Gabe for translating Jared’s nickname for the occasion.

And however much it sucks for him, he knows it’s way worse for Bryce. He’ll never say it aloud, but he was kind of grateful when Gavin got injured and flew home halfway through the trip, because he came over to their place during games and kept Bryce company.

Jared appreciates Gavin’s sacrifice. Gavin not so much.

That had been Elaine’s job, but Jared’s pretty sure she handed over the duty to Gavin without an ounce of regret. Even she has limits. At least, Jared assumes she does? He’s never seen her reach them, but they have to exist.

Bryce’s DWI. That was her limit. She had never been angrier at Bryce than that day, and never will be again.

“Wait, is that Oilers game tape?” Bryce asks.

“If we lose this game Julius is going to keep holding my blanket hostage,” Jared says. “So we can’t lose.”

Bryce is a little concerned about his husband’s sanity right now.

“Babe,” Bryce says. “It’s not your blanket anymore, you know that, right? He’s not holding it hostage, he just has like, custody of it. It’s a bet blanket now.”

“It’s my bet blanket,” Jared says. “That I’m going to win. And refuse to give back, even if we lose.”

Bryce gives him an almost comically disappointed look. “That’s not how bets work, J.”

You can’t break the terms of the bet. That’s low. Bryce is judging you.

“It’s a bet blanket now,” Bryce says gently.

“I know it is,” Jared mutters. He would give it back if the Canucks lost. Probably. The important thing is to never lose to the Oilers again so that it isn’t relevant.

“Is this a weird thing you have to do by yourself?” Bryce asks. “Or can I watch the Oilers in the dark too?”

Bryce is truly such a great guy. How did Jared get so lucky.

“You should see who’s at the door,” Bryce says, in the worst casual voice ever.

“If you got me a singing valentine or some shit—“ Jared says. It’s nowhere near Valentine’s, but that’s hardly something that would stop Bryce.

Fair.

“Let me in!” comes from the hall, and Jared’s blood goes cold.

“Why is there a demon at our door?” Jared hisses.

Bryce has the audacity to roll his eyes and get up himself.

Do demons have to be invited in or is that just vampires?

“Yeah, a ninety minute flight is like, a crazy long trip,” Erin says, shoving a bag off one of the stools around the island in their kitchen before sitting down. Jared thinks that might be the first time someone’s sat there since the day they moved in. The couch is for eating when they’re not hosting, and they don’t really host — well, ever. Unless Gavin counts, but Jared has doubts. And Elaine’s Elaine.

“Oh sick, I was looking for that everywhere,” Bryce says.

They do often drink coffee at the island, but that’s a leaning on the counter sort of situation. The stools aren't actually all that comfortable, and rather than, oh, get other ones, they just sort of...avoid them.

Jared squints at her. “You’re just in Vancouver because Julius is.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Erin says. “And I should be ashamed of myself, considering the incredible welcome I’m receiving from you.”

Erin is experiencing such hospitality.

Bryce hipchecks his way past Jared to give Erin another hug. “Jared’s just jet lagged and grumpy,” he says. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

But unironically, in the case of Bryce. This is why he’s her favourite brother.

Jared will not quit glaring, but he does take a seat, after displacing a sweater that has probably been there since last spring.

“Hey, I was looking for that too,” Bryce says delightedly.

Bryce gets to see Erin AND recovers objects he thought were lost forever? Today’s so great.

“Yes please,” Erin says. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep looking at me like that, Jared.”

“Good,” Jared says, but hauls her in for a one-armed hug, releasing her before Bryce turns away from the fridge. The last thing Jared wants to do is give him the impression that inviting Erin to visit is acceptable behaviour.

Yeah, can’t show weakness by…letting your husband see you hug your sister?

“Oh man,” Erin says, somehow reading Jared’s mind, which he hates that she can still do. “Do you think I can meet Stephen while I’m here?”

“No,” Jared says flatly. He will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He fears he’ll learn firsthand how it feels to be a middle child if he does.

That’s exactly what Erin’s hoping for.

“I can ask Gabe if they’re free after the game tomorrow,” Bryce says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jared digs his fingers into Bryce’s knee under the table.

“I’m asking,” Bryce says, not even bothering to look injured.

It’s cute that you think you can stop him.

She’s presumably staying with Julius tonight, but the Oilers have to be flying out right after the game tomorrow, since they’ve got a matinee against the Golden Seals on Sunday. He’s unsure Bryce is willing to give up his sulking room before he returns to game shape. Or possibly ever. He likes a good sulk. Jared doesn’t even think he’s sulking in there all the time, has pivoted to watching shitty TV without Jared’s judgment and facetiming Maia. At least Jared hopes that’s what the ‘Bryce talking to a baby’ voice is about.

That is precisely what Bryce is using the sulking room for now. Bad TV and video chats. Also naps sometimes.

“Elaine insisted I stay with her,” Erin says. “We’re having a girl’s day on Sunday, then she’s taking me to the airport.”

Of course Elaine did. Of course they are.

Elaine always wanted a daughter too, she is as thrilled to spoil Erin as Bryce is.

Bryce looks up from his phone. “Can I come for girl’s day?”

“Duh,” Erin says.

“Sick,” Bryce says.

“I don’t want to come for girl’s day,” Jared says. “For the record.”

“We know,” Bryce says, over Erin’s snort.

Nobody even invited you.

154. The Spoils

“Halla,” Jared says. “We meet again.”

I do have some series where in media res isn’t out of place, but Jared isn’t one of them, so this is a bit of a shake up. I just really wanted a tight focus mano-a-mano standoff that is entirely undermined by the fact it’s over a fucking blanket.

“You better have brought the blanket,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “It made for very comfortable naps on the plane. It is a good blanket.”

“Your next plane nap is going to suck,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Julius says. “Or maybe it will be a victory nap.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Jared says. “Victory nap?”

“Want to talk trash in Finnish instead?” Julius asks.

First point goes to Halla.

“Are you guys almost done with that trash talking?” Rogers asks. “You’re kind of blocking the locker room.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and he and Julius scoot out of the way to let Rogers through.

Also it starting with a tight focus on them facing off means I can introduce details later, like the fact they’re standing right in front of the visitors room, blocking everybody.

“Nice to see you, Jared,” Rogers says.

“Yeah, you too, Darryl,” Jared says, accepting the shoulder clap from Rogers, the loose hug from Morris as he follows Rogers into the locker room.

Love you Roge, love you Benny.

“I’m gonna—“ Jared says, pausing while yet another Oiler nudges past them into the room.

How dare everyone undermine the dignity of this blanket fight by using the visitors room for its intended purpose.

“I have practice. Enjoy losing tonight.”

“No one enjoys losing,” Julius says.

“Obviously,” Jared says. “It’s a saying. It’s like—“

Julius blinks at him.

“It’s just a thing you say,” Jared says. “Precisely because nobody enjoys losing.”

Julius continues to blink at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Jared asks.

I love when Julius uses his natural poker face for evil.

“I told Coach your sister is in town,” Gabe says when Jared gets onto the ice, surprised he didn’t get yelled at for showing up to practice ten minutes late. Coach is fine if you run late, but only if you let him know in advance, and Jared’s side-trip was due to a slightly deranged whim when he saw Oilers leaving the ice after their own practice.

Slightly?

Also look at Gabe, making excuses for Jared (not lying though! He said only facts. Gabe draws the line at lying in most situations.)

“Had a meeting with some Oilers,” Jared says.

“You know, anyone else I’d assume that was a euphemism for catching up with old friends,” Gabe says. “But not you.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Gabe says after a moment.

Jared is aware. Still thankful, though.

Better to be known as ridiculous than as friendly, says Jared. Am I right?

(Julius is with him.)

“Julius,” Jared calls.

Julius pretends not to hear him.

I love that Jared has stooped to ‘pay attention to me!’.

No Erin. Jared guesses she doesn’t need to swarm the glass to see him, but he was curious what jersey she’d be wearing. Presumably Oilers, but Jared wouldn’t put it past her to wear a Matheson Oilers jersey to piss both him and Julius off.

I also love that Jared knows his sister just as well as she knows him. That is exactly what she’s wearing. Nobody knows who she's cheering for.

“I’m busy,” Julius says. “We already talked trash. Now I am warming up.”

Jared sputters. “I’m not done.”

Julius starts skating away. Backwards, to be extra annoying.

“I’m not done, Julius!” Jared says.

Julius waves goodbye, then turns around and skates over to the Julius Halla Fan Club by the net, grabbing a puck and flipping it to a kid holding a sign.

Another point to Halla.

Jared eyes the red line.

“Don’t do it, Math,” Gabe says, suddenly hovering at his shoulder, like he sensed trouble.

“Ugh,” Jared says, and goes to practice shooting until he isn’t so tempted to hip check Julius right into the Oilers bench.

Point to Markson.

“You’re welcome for the stupid blanket,” Ridley says when when Jared reaches him in the goalie appreciation line.

AKA the ‘hug your goalie line’.

Jared receives a text from Julius letting him know that Erin will be facilitating the blanket hand off, since the Oilers are headed straight to the airport. He’d prefer if it came directly from Julius, but post-game travel nights are what they are — the absolute worst, especially after losses — and that’s before you include the wrinkle of his girlfriend being in town. Jared isn’t petty enough to demand Julius carve out some of his very limited remaining time in Vancouver for the hand off. He probably would be, honestly, except he still remembers how hard it was for him and Bryce to work around competing hockey schedules.

Point for Matheson, but I refuse to indicate which.

“Sting a little to hand it over?” Jared asks smugly, taking the blanket from her. He squints at her outfit: no Canucks jersey, but no Oilers jersey either. A sweater Jared vaguely recognises as one Bryce got her for Christmas a few years back. Bryce clearly recognises it too — he looks pleased.

Erin’s no longer repping either side. Only Bryce’s.

“Dad owes me a dinner of my choice,” Erin says.

“Dad owes — of course he does,” Jared says.

“Some people don’t put their family first,” Erin says. “But I do, Jared. I do.”

“How would Julius feel if he knew you were betting against him?” Jared asks.

“He’s eaten dad’s food before,” Erin says with a shrug. “And I promised a cut of the spoils, obviously. I’m cashing in on a Battle of Alberta night. Julius wants salmon.”

Julius figures if he loses the game, he may as well get a good homecooked meal out of it.

“He knows, then,” Jared says.

Of course she didn’t accidentally give Jared leverage. She would never make such a rookie mistake.

Never underestimate the master.

“Is that Stephen?” Erin says, sitting straighter. “That’s Gabe, so that’s definitely Stephen.”

She has been waiting for this moment since the first time Jared referred to him as ‘the worst person I have ever met’ in a complimentary tone.

She stands up, smoothing her sweater out like she doesn’t want to appear wrinkled in Stephen’s presence. Which is the right call, honestly. Stephen is a very judgmental person.

She hopes to collaborate with Stephen in being mean to Jared, and first impressions are very important.

“Littlest Matheson,” Stephen says, as he arrives at the table. “We finally meet.”

“Jared’s tormentor,” Erin says. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about you.”

Stephen holds his arms out, and Erin walks right into them.

“Neither of you are huggers!” Jared says. “Like, at all!”

They’ll make an exception for co-conspirators.

He tries to make longsuffering eye contact with Gabe, but Gabe just grins back at him.

Stephen has also been waiting for this moment. Gabe is enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s like having another sister,” Stephen says over Erin’s head. “But not terrible because she’s not mine.”

He understands Gabe’s affection for his sisters a little better. Not WELL, but better.

Jared is going to meet Stephen’s sisters, and he is going to befriend them for the sole purpose of gaining blackmail material about Stephen, of which he’s sure there is plenty, and then Stephen will regret this day.

Jared keeping things in perspective while he silently plots his revenge.

But right now Jared appears to be the only one regretting this day. Everybody else appears to be having a great time.

I am included in everybody else.

“Stop hugging each other!” Jared says, then, “No, don’t — this is not a group hug moment, Erin! Stephen! Get off of me!”

The collaboration begins.

“Delete that footage,” Jared says, then, “Seriously, Bryce?”

“I’m just sending it to my mom,” Bryce protests.

So, reminder that this video makes it to social media, and that the ‘seriously, Bryce?’ is used as supporting evidence that Bryce and Jared are married, because Jared is using a 'you are exasperating me' voice that is not exactly bros.

Elaine appreciates the video very much.

“Everybody but Bryce, delete it,” Jared says, though he doesn’t have much hope he’ll be obeyed, and even less hope it won’t end up online somewhere. He’s sure that’s exactly the sort of thing the Canucks social media team would love to get their hands on. He’s sure that the more undignified he looks, the more they’d want it. And he suspects he looked extremely undignified.

Every single one of Jared’s assumptions is correct. Especially the last one.

Erin posts a few pictures that end up on the internet when she gets home — or, Jared guesses, the wider internet, not just Erin’s followers on Instagram.

Considering Erin is dating the Oilers star forward, sister of his former liney, and 'practically sister' of the Canucks star forward, naturally she has plenty of followers from the hockey world. And naturally people enjoy pictures of Jared looking like he’s suffering greatly while getting hugged by his sister and someone many misidentify as Julius.

“I don’t know who she was cheering for, but she bet on the Canucks,” Jared says, then internally winces, because with the way the internet twists everything, that’ll turn into some ‘Erin Matheson is a disloyal girlfriend’ storyline. Jared hates twitter. And crap, add a possible ‘player’s girlfriend is betting on hockey games!’, now that Jared’s thinking about it.

“Just a bet she had with my dad,” he adds hastily. If dad gets some ‘Don Matheson is a disloyal dad’ he deserves it.

Good on Jared catching that in time, because yeah, ‘disloyal girlfriend’ definitely would have been the takeaway. And disloyal dad is indeed deserved. Jared doesn’t remember his dad cheering for the Oilers when he was one.

Jared’s stupid interview gets a ton of likes, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blanket bet is a great storyline. They will both regret that.

Someone always tells him when something important happens, like the Erin and Bryce thing, and the Erin and Julius thing, and — Erin seems to be the common denominator in a lot of these.

Jared’s ignorance of his own beauty extending to all Mathesons.

Erin continues to wreak havoc by posting the video of Jared being attacked by her and Stephen the next day. Jared doesn’t know if she got it from Bryce, or Elaine, or one of the other Canucks is a traitor, but of course that gets a ton of likes too, because people on the internet also enjoy when Jared’s dignity is wounded, apparently.

It truly is enjoyable to watch Jared’s dignity suffer, can't blame 'em at all.

People also seem to think Stephen is Julius, even though he looks absolutely nothing like him, beyond also being blond and around the same height. Different build, different haircut, different everything. Also he literally says Stephen’s name in the video. Jared is so tired.

The internet has unfortunately made it quite evident just how many people go around life misinterpreting everything they see.

The sulking room is already occupied when Jared goes to use it. Bryce looks up from his phone when, expression suspiciously happy for the locale.

As I said earlier, it is now also used for watching bad TV, getting his fill of Maia (and Ashley), and naps.

“Say hi to Maia?” Bryce says, which explains everything, and Jared says some things to Maia that she surely doesn’t understand, like how big she’s gotten — it is insane how fast babies grow — and how she’s shaping up to be a Chaz mini-me, because it’s uncanny. He feels absurd the whole time, even though neither Bryce nor Ash laugh at him, though they’re both doing the thin lipped thing like they want to, but they recognise it will hurt his remaining pride.

Jared is using a baby voice. Both Bryce and Ashley know better than to alert him of that fact.

“You’re not sulking,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Maia.”

It is extremely hard to sulk when paying attention to Maia, actually. Jared temporarily forgot why he came in the first place.

Babies are great like that.

“But this is the sulking room,” Jared says.

“Did you need to sulk?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jared says.

Mom says it’s my turn with the sulking room.

“I swear I didn’t give it to her,” Bryce says.

He doesn’t need to tell Jared that. Not because Jared trusts him implicitly or anything — Erin is very good at manipulating Bryce into doing what she wants — but because he’s realised that Bryce was sitting at a completely different angle than the video was taken from. It was either Stevie or Dmitry. Jared suspects the latter for obvious reasons.

Why do you doubt Dmitry like this? What has he ever done to deserve this?

(Yes it was Dmitry.)

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Bryce says, then heads out of the room, returning after a minute carrying the blanket under his arm.

And he is correct.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jared says, then, “Come nap with me,” and the least sulky nap ever to happen in the sulking room is officially underway.

Julius was right: it is an excellent blanket for victory naps.

The spoils of victory.

#liveblogging the end

39 notes · View notes

thrndlngs · 3 years

Text

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character. also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties. ♡

"'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters ── which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship.

“shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department.

“we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning.

“──stop talking, it’s distracting me.”

your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter.

“they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

“three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

“──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

“we haven’t played that since── “

“yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.”

you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

“let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same.

it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight ── but there wasn’t really much you could do.

“two minutes.”

this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

“i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

“i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

“──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

“says the one whose sweating to death.”

“and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

“yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.”

he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.”

in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.”

“are you serious?”

“oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

“it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder.

“okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

“mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart.

“now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

“good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

“──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

“no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

“is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”

he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

“and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours ── regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him.

as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight?

“d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

“only because you have food.”

he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different.

so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

“i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well ── these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often.

“you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating.

“──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

“because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him ── he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

“if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

“a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.”

“don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you ──

you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you ── stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him.

yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it?

but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it ── despite the ache in his chest.

iv.

"we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

“pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different.

“try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

“make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should.

he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.”

“it better stay that way ‘toshi.”

he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none.

he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

“──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you.

you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

“you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.”

you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

#shinsou fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #mha drabble #mha imagine #shinsou tbt.#( this is so lame bc i wrote this at 1:43 am while at work JHADKJHDA )#╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ 𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐄 ┊ WRITINGS .

260 notes · View notes

soranis-sunshadow · 3 years

Text

Looking back

@cruelfeline wanted a snippet between Hordak and Glimmer where they contemplated on how much of a fuckup either of them is.

I took it as a prompt and I hope this little oneshot scratches that itch.

It was always better to go to a banquet than to host it, Glimmer thought to herself while making her way down the long hallway of the reclusive palace wing. If she felt at odds or tired or just not in the mood, all she had to do was signal Bow and he’d take her home. But as a host, she WAS home, there was nowhere else to go to. Besides, since she was the esteemed host, she couldn’t leave early. It would be in poor taste.

This year, the anniversary of the end of the war was hosted in Bright Moon and she had to find a secluded place in her own home to take a breather from all the commotion before she had to return to the party and smile and nod and… try not to feel like such an imposter.

She finally found her favorite overlook, the one where she came to sulk whenever her mother gave her a stern -and justified- talking to, the best view and the music of the party down in the main hall was muted. No sooner did she lay her hands upon the balustrade that she spotted movement to the periphery of her vision. It was another person she really didn’t want to interact with due to the sheer awkwardness: Hordak. He was sitting by himself in contemplation, looking on into the distance in the last light of the day.

She and he stood meters apart on the balcony in silence for a while. He seemed to look at peace while staring off into the sunset. She tried to do the same. Her maelstrom of thoughts made it difficult.

During the war, she had never met him face to face, all she knew was what other people said of him – both her own and other hordesmen that were captured and interrogated.

Their first meeting in the flesh had been memorable… for very terrible, nightmare inducing reasons. Even now, she couldn’t look at Hordak without seeing Prime discard his errant tool then threaten to destroy her world in a dulcet voice as if it were the most trite of things. It probably had been to that monster…

Hordak hadn’t been what she – an everyone else thought he was. What made it even more jarring, and unexpected, had been his eagerness to repent and atone following the war.

Glimmer had decreed that Prime’s little brothers were not at fault for what they had been made to do for their creator, all of them, Hordak included. She couldn’t in good conscience persecute any of them whilst knowing, intimately – unlike the other monarchs- where they came from and what had been done to them.

Hordak however, decided to be difficult, because of course he did.

He insisted that even had his actions been in the hopes of serving Prime, they had been his actions, his mistakes. He owned them, and he owed Etheria. He had decided- by himself - to rebuild the things he had a hand in destroying not out of a desperate bid for forgiveness but because it was what he had been convinced that it was the right, and the just thing to do.

It made it very awkward for her to interact with him… whenever she invited Entrapta to these events, he was always her plus one. Entrapta was a sore spot for Glimmer. She had decided that the Dryll princess would be the first one to be invited whenever Glimmer hosted any event. It was the least she owed her.

She had learned that Entrapta endangered herself to save her back when she had been abducted on Prime’s ship… a few weeks before that, Glimmer had argued with Adora and Bow to leave her on Beast Island for the time being. It was a shame that stung deeply. Entrapta had been a far better friend to her than she had been to Entrapta. To make matters worse, Entrapta seemed either oblivious or not to hold it against her. It made Glimmer’s guilt even worse. At times, she wished Entrapta HAD been angry, she wished the other princess would give her a piece of her mind, at least then, she’d be able to make it up to her.

Huh!

No wonder Hordak “punished” himself with reparations and reconstructions…She couldn't stop a heavy sigh from escaping her. It wasn't an invitation to talk but he seemed to take it as one since the noise startled him out of his contemplation and he slowly turned towards her.

“Good evening, your grace.” It was always a bit comical when one of Prime’s clones bowed to her, they would have to bend over comically low to match her height. Hordak didn’t. He merely bowed his head smoothly and lowered his ears to convey submission.

“Uh, hey.” How dignified of her. She wished she had half as much grace as her mother had. “Uuuh,-“ he looked at her with that blank face that had been conditioned into him. ‘Ugh, say something Glimmer, this doesn’t have to be this awkward. Make an effort, for Entrapta’s sake at least!’. “- lovely sunset, right?”

He blinked slowly then turned back to the vista. “Indeed.”

‘C’mon! Give me SOMETHING to work with here!’ She thought to herself. “What do you think of the party?” That had been a host thing to ask, it was appropriate and neutral right?

It wasn’t... The answer came in that calm, low, dignified and slightly husky voice of his, a voice that had cracked from screaming and had never recovered. His posture betrayed his unease. Hordak further stiffened at the question.

“It is,-“ he paused considering his words carefully “quite sumptuous, your grace.” He bowed again. It was clearly at least as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

This wasn’t helping… ‘Good job Glimmer!’ If it hadn’t been weird and both of them had enjoyed the companionable silence before, now she had made things awkward.

While considering what to say next, he saved her the effort by saying. “Your guests are enjoying themselves.” Was that a compliment? Was he trying to compliment her? She knew from former interactions with him that he had a very stiff and formal way of talking, very unlike his progenitor. Words fit poorly in his mouth. It was so curious how, despite having the same voice and the same face, almost… they sounded worlds apart. He held himself differently too, Prime had filled every space he was in, he owned every room he walked into. Hordak on the other hand seemed perpetually on eggshells. Was that why he was here by himself?

“You are my guest too.” She said to him, trying to sound warm and welcoming but it came out a bit defensive.

The unasked question hung between them in the dying light of the day.

He saved her from asking it once more. “My presence… makes some of your other guests uneasy, your grace. I did not wish to impose.”

“Impose? Nonsense!” She waved it off with a chuckle. “You and Entrapta are welcome here, I’ve expressly invited the both of you myself. There is no way you could ‘impose’ in any way!” Then it hit her… “Did anyone tell either of you that you were imposing? If they did, tell me who it was and I’ll have a chat with them.”

He huffed out a chuckle then turned towards her once more. A small, tentative smile made its way on his face. “No such thing your grace, the initiative was all mine.” The shared gaze was broken as he looked at his feet then back into the distance. “ I wished to prevent it from becoming an issue. Many of your kinsmen are weary of me, and for good reason. My actions on your world did not endear me to most of your kind.” It seems that guilt had brought them both on this overlook.

“I should name this ‘the shitty overlook!’ Hah!” She laughed. “Because everyone comes on this balcony to feel shitty.” He looked at her, one browridge raised in inquiry. “You’re here because of the whole conquest thing and I’m here because I’ a terrible friend.”

Glimmer continued. “We both did regrettable things during the war.” She too looked on into the distance, the line of bleeding orange light got thinner and thinner as night overtook it, a thin line of fiery hues reflected off the surface of the turbulent lake. Silence hung between them for a few minutes.

“You did what you thought was necessary, your grace.” Despite the curt tone, it was a reassurance. It was uncanny for Hordak of all people to be the one trying to comfort her.

“We both did. It still doesn’t make it feel right.” Both of their closets had skeletons cramped in them.

“It may not but, at the time, you saw no other way to do your duty.” He sighed deeply. “Hindsight is indeed, not a charitable beast your majesty, but it is unfair.” He clicked his claws on the balustrade. The motion was somewhat distracting. ” You know things now that you couldn’t have possibly known back then. Within the constraints of the time and the data available, you did the best that you could, the best that could be expected. You were a formidable opponent.” As sound as his logic was, it did little to assuage the anger she aimed at herself.

“And I had my friends take the fall for me because I thought it was necessary.” She sighed and hugged herself. “I was wrong, even back then but I didn’t want to admit it, I thought the ends justify the means. They don’t. They never do.”

“It’s easy to overthink the choices made when one is aware that there were other options, other paths that could have been taken.” He sounded, small and sad, his own demons haunting him.” The reality of it is that, in the moment, you may not have been aware of other possibilities and time had not been on your side. You decided to move forward down the only path you saw before you. The alternative would have been admitting defeat. Had you done so, you wouldn’t be here to second guess yourself. It was, in general, the right thing to do even if you are left with the consequences of your perceived momentary oversights. You have the privilege now, to make up for your mistakes – a privilege you wouldn’t have had should you have not done the things you did. “

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” She hadn’t known she needed it nor would she had ever asked for it and that’s exactly why the point had hit home. “She was right, you’re a good listener.”

He chuckled again, an animate chuckle that rippled through him as he shook his head and turned back to look at the lake. She made her way closer and took in the familiar view. Neither of them said anything after that.

They watched the stars appear on the night sky, reflecting off the surface of the lake, somewhat distorted. The ripples of the lake made their twinkling even brighter. The night was peaceful.

#glimmer #hordak #entrapdak #spop fanfic

102 notes · View notes

bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years

Text

Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party.

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited.

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.”

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #imagine #imagines #sam and colby imagines #sam and colby imagine #colby #fluff #fluff imagine #fluff imagines #colby brock x reader #sam and colby

238 notes · View notes

spacestationdaedalus · 3 years

Text

stay with me, my darling

Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."

"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth.

or: reminiscing, and hope for the future during the apocalypse

thank you @entitynumber5 for this prompt!! I love it and you to bits

ao3 link here!

...

There are moments, right before the nightmares and right after them, when Martin can sleep. There has to be space to breathe, between the fear and dread. How else will you really know what you've lost, know how afraid you are? Or maybe, even now, the fears are bound by the limits of human physiology, the nature of REM sleep and dreams. It's something Jon can't Know, but even if he could. It doesn't matter.

But there is something he could Know, if he wanted to. With Martin within arms reach in the bed next to him, Knowing if he was awake would be as easy as breathing. Maybe easier, now - a reflex, poised and ready just beneath the surface of his skin, just behind his eyes that don't blink as much as they used to.

He doesn't. He owes it to Martin. That sense of normalcy, however small.

Jon takes a breath, holding the compulsion at bay, locked tight in the back of his throat. He'd already slipped up, forced more than one answer out of Martin since they fled from London. Like hell he'll do it again.

"Are you asleep?"

It's no more than a whisper, ragged and sad sounding even to Jon's own ears. But it might as well be a scream compared to the muted terror outside, the solemn creaking of the boards beneath and around them.

It's quiet for a beat, then Martin shifts. He makes a little noise of coming to awareness - the same one he'd made every morning, when there were still mornings to wake up to. Jon didn't think it was possible to feel nostalgia for something that happened so recently. But the pang, the loss of soft morning sunlight and warm blankets and clumsy, sleep-mused hair and hellos sinks deep into his stomach, and he lowercase-k knows he's wrong.

"J'n?" Oh, but his voice still has that quality to it. When he's just woken up, unguarded, a smile when his eyes find Jon. The sound eases just a bit of the awful tightness in his chest. Not much, though, because Martin doesn't smile as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes. He fumbles for his glasses as he sits up, brow furrowed. Jon can't blame him.

"Is something wrong?" Technically a question, but not phrased like one. Martin’s voice matches Jon’s for pitch, quiet and soft.

Jon looks down at his hands, flexes his fingers. His mouth is dry. He feels guilty, for waking Martin up from the only rest he can get for something so silly . But it's hard to distinguish between shades of guilt these days, carved out of his chest and curled up where his lungs should be.

He almost says nevermind, go back to sleep, but that would be worse, waking him up for nothing. And Jon is nothing if not stubborn. Words are hard, but he gets them out.

"I was- I was thinking about the tape, that I...about what Tim said."

Martin sighs. It's not annoyed, or sad. Maybe fond? Jon isn't sure - you could be sure, you could pluck every thought from his head like grapes from a vine. The thing that only watches trills at the thought, buzzing anticipation and thirst filling his skull and he digs his fingernails into his palm until it hurts, stop stop stop-

"Jon?"

"Hm?" He comes back, with the extra volume and concern Martin adds to his name. Had he really drifted that easily, that far, that quickly?

Martin takes one of his hands, unfurling the fingers that he'd clenched. His nails leave crescent moons in the skin of his palm. Martin delicately runs a finger along them as they fade, and it tickles just enough to be both pleasant and distracting. "I said, the one at your birthday? The tape?"

Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."

"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth. "Jon-"

Jon shifts to face him. It's not a sudden movement, but it's lightning quick compared to his syrup-thick movements of the last few so-called-days. "I know, I know it's not- it's not healthy to dwell on it, on… It's just… there's so much I would, would tell myself if I could."

"Even if we couldn't avoid all of it. Maybe it could have been easier."

"Jon…"

"Martin, please ." It's the most emotion he's been able to get out of his voice since he stopped sobbing after the statement that got them here. It hurts. It hurts and he knows it's what he deserves.

Just let me have this , he wants to say, but can't bring himself to. He leans forward instead, just barely. Not for any reason other than his head is tired , but Martin pulls him further, touch gentle but firm. He wraps his arms around him, so easily, so Jon's head is resting on his shoulder, eyelashes brushing like butterflies against the crook of his neck.

"Alright, alright. It's okay."

Martin whispers into his hair, and for all Jon can See, he can’t imagine anything that would take the comfort of it away. They stay like that for a moment, a while. There’s a lot that Jon wants to say, and even though he started the conversation he doesn’t know where to begin. Everything is tangled like overgrown weeds in his mind, like boxes of cords with no purpose that sit in jumbled piles, wrapped around the things he’s trying not to Know and the things he wants to forget and the things that hurt to remember. But then Martin breaks the silence for him.

“For one thing, I wouldn’t…" Martin seems hesitant, like he's not sure he should say what he's about to say. "I wouldn't have let Biscuit into the archives.”

Jon stops. It's quiet for a moment, in a way he forgot it could be. Martin stills next to him, anticipating.

“Wh...what?”

Marin breathes out a small chuckle, almost with a nervous edge to it. “Y’know, the dog I let in? On my first day?”

Jon is something close to comfortable against Martin's shoulder. But he can't stop himself from pulling back far enough to see his face.

"You named the dog?”

“Oh,! No, that was on his nametag. Had a phone number too, that’s - that’s how I got him back to his owner."

I love you I love you I-

That might as well have been a decade ago. Jon can’t stop the quirk of lip, however small, at the ridiculousness of it. “I never knew that.”

Martin cocks his head, hint of a wry smile playing at his lips. "Well, yeah, it’s not like I was going to bring it up to you again. You looked like you were going to fire me on sight for weeks.” His face falls, slightly. “Although, I guess you wouldn’t have been able to, even back then."

Jon sighs, heavy as it's dragged out of his lungs. “I would have, though, if I could. All of you.”

The silence is thick, but not unbreakable. So Jon does just that.

"Maybe we could have ended up at a normal office job."

"What, like a...bank, or something?"

Jon smiles, wider, even though it feels like his face forgot how. Like riding a bike, maybe. "Yes, something… dreadfully boring."

"A boring job does sound pretty appealing."

"At least, them, I wouldn't have had to tell myself to stop pushing the whole, skeptic thing." Jon can't help but recall the conversation, in the storage closet with the man in front of him and what should have been certain death waiting outside. Even that seems so much simpler, now.

Martin makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. "Maybe I would have told myself to confront you sooner. A-about the statements, I mean. Could have had that whole-"

Martin deepens his voice in what Jon realizes is an imitation "- heart to heart thing sooner."

"I'm not sure if it would have gone over well.” Jon can't help but be honest. Old and new shame bubbles up in his throat, and he has to say something. "Martin, I'm- I'm sorry for the way I acted, back then. I was… god, I was such a prick to you. It wasn't fair, or- or right ."

Martin barely lets him finish before he's saying, "Yeah, you were pretty… prick-ish? I forgive you though. I don't really think about it much anymore, if it means anything.” He breathes out a quiet laugh. “It's kind of funny, actually. In hindsight."

Jon can't stop the look of disbelief. "Really."

Martin smiles. "I mean, yeah? And gosh , you should have heard the things I used to say to Tim and Sasha about you. It wasn't completely one sided."

That catches Jon's attention. "Oh?"

The look on Martin's face isn't quite regret, but it's close. " Any ways-"

"No no, Martin, please , I'd love to know.'' Jon is careful not to phrase it as a question. His voice is quiet, still, but coy. His curiosity is all his own and no one, nothing , else's. He revels in the feeling.

Their hands are entwined on the bed between them. Martin looks down at them as to not meet Jon's eye, but he's smiling, still. "I think I described you as a cactus with twice the spines and half the emotional capacity, once.”

Jon's laugh, soft and brittle as it is, surprises even himself.

Martin looks up at him, encouraged. "Heh- Tim got a kick out of that one."

Tim's laugh, faded like an old photograph in his mind. It hurts to remember, but it would hurt worse to forget. He wish he had that luxury for Sasha. The real Sasha, the stranger who was friends with Tim, friends with him . At least, he hoped she had been. She sounded so lovely.

But, back to Martin. "Yes, well, I can't say you're wrong about that."

Martin sucks in a breath, and Jon freezes under the possibility of upsetting him. But then.

" Oh , Jon- that’s the complete opposite of the truth."

Jon laughs, with less humor. "Martin-"

"No, no, let me finish." Martin takes one of Jon's hands, the burned one, in both of his. "You put up a great front, I'll admit it. But you care so much, even… even though things haven't been easy, or good, or… or fair. You never stopped caring, this whole time. It's obvious now, at least - at least, to me. Even if you don't always say it.”

"You care so, so much and it's - god , it's one of my favorite things about you, Jon."

Something about the way Martin says his name chisels something open in Jon's chest. And not for the first time. Being known, existing to someone else that actually wants him to. There's a reverence to it, the way Martin says it, that Jon knows he doesn't deserve. But he tries to move past that thought and let the sound warm him from the inside out.

Jon whispers Martin's name, quiet and strangled. He hopes it carries the same depth, the same love.

Martin keeps going. "And I - that's why this is so hard for you. I mean - well, of course it's hard, it's pretty fucking terrible, actually - but," Martin sighs. "I know that's why you want to blame yourself for all of this-"

Jon finds his voice, stronger. He's not sure where the sudden energy comes from, but it probably has to do with the knot that's made a home in his ribcage.

"It's not about want , Martin, it's- it's the truth. What else am I supposed to do? I ended the world -"

"Jonah fucking Magnus ended the world, Jon. Not you. He used you."

"I don't really see the difference."

The burst of energy leaves him, water spilling down a drain. This isn't the first time they've talked about this, and it probably won't be the last.

Martin sighs. "I know. But I'll keep telling you, as many times as it takes. Because it's true. And it- it hurts, seeing you like this."

Jon looks at Martin, really looks for the first time in too long. His eyes, tinged grey from his time in the Lonely, dark circles under his eyes, tight lines at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say, other than, "I love you."

"No, it's-" Martin shakes his head, just a bit. "I love you, too."

It's quiet for a long moment. Martin lays back down on the bed and gestures for Jon to follow him. Which is easy, for Jon to do. The bed isn't warm, but it isn't cold either, in the strange way that things are and aren't right now. But Martin is warm, Jon can feel, with their legs tangled together and foreheads touching.

Jon won't, can't sleep, but laying next to Martin still feels like rest. In a way.

"Martin." Jon doesn't know why he needs to say Martin's name. It's not like there's anyone else he could be talking to, with less than centimeters between them. But the thing he's about to say is so deeply important to him, and it feels like he needs to.

"I'm… glad," God, his vocabulary always escapes him when he has to speak out loud. Talk about his feelings. "That I got to spend time, with you. Time here."

They haven't left. The cabin still stands, doors and windows, squeaky hinges and leaky faucets intact. But it's not the same, never will be as far as Jon can tell. "The weeks that we had, before- I...I don't think I'm lying when I say it's the first time in a long time that I-"

Felt loved? Felt like a person, again?

"...was happy."

Martin smiles, but it shakes like a leaf in the wind. A tear slips from his eye, dripping slowly over the bridge of his nose.

"Me too."

Jon brushes a kiss, feather light between Martin's eyes, catching the tears and hopefully some, any tiny amount of the sorrow that lives in the lines of his face.

"I could have stayed here forever, like that. With- with you. Just…"

"Living?"

"Yes. Living."

It's not the first time Jon's treated himself to the thought, however far fetched, however foolish. A life, a normal, mundane life in the countryside. Maybe with boring jobs, but not a boring life. Not with Martin here. Not with Martin to wake up next to, to fall asleep with, to walk with to the village. Talking about nothing important but committing every detail to memory. That Martin prefers vanilla over chocolate, that he had a pet goldfish named Larry when he was seven, that he loves dandelions even though they're classified as a weed, who gets to decide what a weed is, anyway, right, Jon?

"The walk to the village is a bit much, but we could manage." Martin's voice is thick. "The shopkeeper already recognizes us."

The mention of a person outside their wooden refuge pulls knowledge unprompted from Jon's mind. He doesn't have the heart to tell Martin she's currently walking through endless identical corridors with identical doors leading nowhere. The lights above her flicker just so, and she swears she sees something out of the corner of her eye, but she turns and there's only off-white walls and beige doors and the sound of footsteps quickening in threatening cadence towards her-

Jon doesn't mean to drift again. But Martin's voice brings him back. Like it always will.

"Plus, we get to see good cows on the way, so it's worth it."

Jon pushes the thoughts away, and smiles. "I suppose you're right." After a breath, he goes on. "Less food to carry from the store if we have a garden."

"Jonathan Sims, a green thumb?"

Jon bristles at the not-quite accusation, but it doesn't quite reach his voice. Too much energy that he doesn't have. "Well, no, not yet. But I always thought it would be nice, to have a garden. I can learn."

"It would be." Martin slips into sincerity so easily. "I'm sure you would grow lovely vegetables."

"And spices, for cooking."

"Of course." Martin sighs, quiet, fond. "A man that can garden and cook, what could I possibly bring to the table?"

"Everything." Jon blurts out without thinking, and stands by it like a beach umbrella buried in the sand. "You're… you're better with your hands, than I am. Like, the door hinge you fixed when we first got here."

"That's not exactly master carpentry, Jon-"

"It doesn't need to be." Jon doesn't give him time to retort. "And your embroidery. It's- it's good, we'll hang it up on the walls and you can teach me how to do it."

Jon already learned embroidery once, technically, from his grandmother. But she had always grown impatient with his impatience, quick to scold him for fidgeting and rushing his stitches. Like it was an exam he was actively failing instead of something you do for fun. It wasn't all bad, not really, but Jon imagines relearning long-forgotten movements under Martin's hand and smile, and it makes him want to buy every spool of thread, every needle he can get his hands on.

"Of course." Martin replies. "We could put up other pictures, too. I've actually- I've, uh, always wanted to get into photography."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Not for any, real reason, I suppose. Just… seems like it would be fun."

I love you I love you I-

"That sounds like a reason to me."

They go on a bit longer, about pets ( at least one cat, and apparently a species of lizard that Martin is particularly fond of) and colors to paint the bedroom ( something bright but lively, a light blue, maybe) and mugs to buy from the second hand store ( Martin collects novelty mugs, and Jon files that away for later ). Jon knows it’s terrible of him, selfish to revel in this while the world suffers under the weight of its own choking fear.

Later, they'll talk again. A few times. Later, aching sorrow becomes burning anger and drive and they leave with the bags Martin's already packed. But for now, Jon holds Martin's face, and Martin wraps his arms around Jon's waist. Pulling him close, like a ship docked in harbor. And it feels safe.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma fics #my writing

47 notes · View notes

i-love-you-all · 3 years

Text

Brimstone has thoughts that he doesn’t control...

~1.4k words, mild violence, memories, hurt, implied death. (anything else? pm me and i’ll add them here.) Rough draft here, will edit then make a series on Ao3

What makes a friend a best friend?

Brimstone then didn’t know the answer, that much was for certain.

When he was young, it was all about who had the guts to go against him in a game of soccer, football, or hockey. The ones who competed, who played to win, who smiled as easily as he did in a world that did its best to push you down were his friends. But still, one by one, they lost their connection to him. Some moved away, others turned arrogant, and others still just turned on him. Were they even friends?

As he got older, he realized just how little he understood about relationships past the professional ones made between peers. Even when he joined the military at eighteen, he had trouble identifying friend from rival, and rival from enemy. Friendships were shallow and they didn’t give Brimstone any feeling of connection or deep trust.

That all changed the day he got assigned to clean the gun closet with Kay.

Up to this point, he had never met someone with a more innately friendly disposition than that man. And despite his aloof façade, Brimstone was readily accepted by Kay as a friend.

“Why are you so… friendly,” Brimstone asked him one day, feet hanging off the roof of the barracks. They snuck up here on nights where Brimstone couldn’t sleep.

“I used to have these long conversations with my grandpa.” Kay was staring off into the night sky, not really watching Brimstone who was studying him like he would get them out of drills the next day. “His philosophy in life was just… If you’re not sure, start off nice. Things were way more likely to go your way. And that no matter what judgements they made about me before speaking a word, a well said compliment could wash it all away.”

Brimstone nodded his head. “I think I was actually told the opposite. Don’t trust anyone unless they profit off your success.”

“Kind of a sadder way to live.”

Brimstone shrugged. “Helped me out in the end.”

Eventually, Brimstone found himself trusting and relying on Kay as he would on his sister or his father. He would gladly admit that it was easier that way, and through Kay’s eyes and actions, he could agree with him on the fact that having friends was much easier than toughing it out on your own. A day eventually came when he realized that Kay was basically his family at that point.

People said that he smiled more often those days. And that it was a start reminder of what went wrong when it stopped.

The war was something that no one saw coming. How could anyone have predicted that one day, a substance would arrive on earth that gave people actual superpowers? Just like that, he found himself on a precarious battlefield. They knew that they were just men. He and Kay were pinned down on the top floor of an office building, and their escape options were… deadly to put it lightly. One, they could try to take the stairs to the bottom floor, but with the building already on damaged foundations and leaned over, ready to topple any moment, Brimstone wasn’t sure if that was even an option. Still, it was better than option two: rappelling down the side of the building amidst a firefight. If even one person looked up at them, they’d be dead.

“End of the line for us.”

He didn’t even get a response. Well, not one in words. The room shook as something exploded behind them.

When he regained his vision and finally looked at his surroundings, he had another choice in front of him. On one side, a masked figure in a hoodie and sweats was literally glowing green as trails of smoke drifted from his fingers. The smell of dust and rubble filled his nostrils and Brim just knew that this was the one who caused all this damage. Had he been alone, had he never met Kay, this would’ve been simple… but…

Kay looked half conscious; his fingers dug into the cement floor blood dripping from the various scrapes he had suffered from the explosion. And Brimstone felt his heart skip a beat.

Deal with the radiant first.

That was the first thought. It wouldn’t matter if Brim could even get to Kay in time if the radiant was still there. He took a few shots at his target, only one hitting, before rolling behind cover. He almost felt the need to slap his hands over his ears when he heard the scream of fury come from the mystery person. Inhuman. That’s what the noise was.

He couldn’t stay on his feet though as another shockwave shook the unstable floor, and he heard cracking coming as well as the pained grunts of his best friend hanging on for his life. It only took a split second for Brimstone to locate then lunge at the radiant, knocking them off their feet. As he aimed to take a shot with his pistol though, the radiant quickly regained their bearings and hit the gun out of his hands. With superhuman strength, he was shoved to the side as another shockwave rolled out from the radiant… then another. The dark red liquid dripping down their side showed their weakness, but Brim was too unsteady to make it any worse.

And Kay…

The radiant fled, parkouring down the ruined buildings with no fear. With the threat gone, he rushed over to Kay, who was barely hanging onto one of the metal supports that was now exposed.

“Hold onto me,” Brimstone called out, trying to reach out to his friend. The hazel eyes looked back at him with so much fear that… that for a moment, Brim truly thought that this attempt was hopeless.

Not that it mattered when he reached down to grab ahold of that same beam and started trying to pull Kay up – at least so that he could pull himself up the rest of the way.

“Not enough,” Kay managed to say, after a failed attempt at grabbing something sturdier to hold onto. “You gotta go. This building isn’t gonna–”

They were cut off as the top of the building – their floor – creaked and groaned as it tilted further.

“No… No not like this.” Brimstone, once again, reached out for him. “Grab onto me.”

Had he been thinking clearer, which he had ample time to do in the decade since the incident, he would’ve come to the same conclusion to as Kay. It didn’t matter. If Kay grabbed onto Brimstone, he wasn’t strong enough at that moment to pull him up. It’d be more likely that they both tumbled over. If he didn’t tumble over due to the weight, one more shift in the building would’ve done it too. And should the impossible happen and he lift Kay up… well, they would both need to get to the ground floor, and Kay, who was already injured, had new gashes on his leg and side from his slide to the edge.

“You have to let go.” It didn’t make sense at the time. Because it wasn’t him holding the metal bar, but in hindsight, Kay was telling him in advance to move on.

“Brimstone!” A large pair of hands was wrapped around him and pulling him away from the cliff’s edge. He looked back into the one brown, one blue eye of Sova, who had his arms wrapped around him and was straining to keep him topside. He was holding onto – not Kay – but Kay/O.

“You have to let go,” the robot was saying in that vaguely familiar voice. “I’m just a machine. I can be rebuilt.”

“Let… go, Brimstone,” Sova said again, heels digging into the dirt. Kay/O wasn’t even holding onto Brimstone – it was the other way around.

“Remember to rebuild me,” Kay/O said, more directed at Sova than Brimstone. “You leave me for scrap, I’ll kill you.”

Sova chuckled and gave one last heave backwards. Brimstone let go of the machine and watched him fall.

“Are you ok, Brimstone? You lost focus,” Sova immediately started checking in with him.

Any other day and he would maybe tell this younger man about the dangers of making friends in the midst of a battle.

Today, he said, “I’m fine.”

#whumptober 2021 #no. 1 #you have to let go #valorant #valorant fanfiction #brimstone #Kay/O #kayo #hurt... just a lot of hurt hopefully #sova #at the end

16 notes · View notes

alyssaallyrion · 3 years

Text

How much of that did you hear? (Iruka x Kakashi)

Rating: T

Summary: In which Kakashi eavesdrops on a conversation and learns something he wasn't supposed to.

A/N:

- Written for KakaIru Month ( hosted by @kakairu-fest ) Day 17 Prompts: Drunk Confessions.

- - Drunk confessions prompt combined with Bewitchedbysparkles's request for "KakaIru, with "How much of that did you hear?""

ao3 link

The soft click of the window latch brings a satisfied smile to Kakashi’s face - finally. Sliding the window open, Kakashi glances around before slipping into the darkness of Iruka’s apartment. Quickly now, before he gets back.

It all started a few weeks ago, when Kakashi, a little too deep into his cups after a particularly difficult mission, decided to ask Guy for romantic advice, which, in hindsight, perhaps, was not his smartest decision.

“Guy,” Kakashi remembered saying, “If you were…interested in someone, how would you let them know?”

Guy looked up from his sake, suddenly serious, “Why, Kakashi? Has someone finally caught your eye?”

Yes, he thought.

“I’m just asking,” Kakashi said nonchalantly, resting his chin on his palm.

“I’d simply tell them of my heart’s most sincere affections,” Guy smiled at Kakashi, “There’s nothing to fear when the power of youth is on your side.”

Kakashi sighed – if he could “simply talk” to Iruka, he’d never be in this position in the first place. But Kakashi had never been good with feelings – or with words when it came to talking about those feelings. As far as Kakashi was concerned, facing multiple S-rank criminals was less terrifying than the way his heart threatened to burst out of his chest any time Iruka smiled at him.

No, this won’t do.

Kakashi’s own list of ideas was running rather thin. It seemed Iruka hadn’t figured out that turning in terrible mission reports and sitting in a tree outside his classroom window reading Icha Icha were Kakashi’s ways of showing interest. Let’s see if Guy has any other thoughts.

“And if you couldn’t tell them, how would you make your feelings known?”

Guy was quiet for a moment, pondering, then a bright smile returned to his face, “I would get them a heartfelt gift – something I know they’d love - which would reveal the depth of my affections.”

A gift? That Kakashi could do.

Kakashi smiled – with Iruka’s birthday coming up next month, this was the perfect time. There was only one problem – he had no idea what kind of gift Iruka would want to receive. That left Kakashi with a few choices, most obvious of which – at least to him – was to sneak into Iruka’s apartment and look around in hopes of finding clues to what Iruka liked.

Now, standing inside Iruka’s dark apartment, Kakashi glances around, studying his surroundings. The first thing Kakashi notices is just how cozy the space is – it’s clear Iruka put in a lot of effort into making his apartment a true home. There’s a scent of cinnamon in the air, warm and rich, matching quilts rest atop couch and armchairs in the living room, and the many potted plants standing upon the windowsills are clearly cared for very well. Unlike any plant that had the misfortune of finding itself in Kakashi’s own apartment.

Kakashi notes the few paintings on the walls – all clearly drawn by a child, likely Naruto, and lovingly framed by Iruka. A tall bookshelf next to the couch catches Kakashi’s attention, and he walks over to it. The middle shelf is empty, save for two photographs - in the first one, a ten-year-old Iruka is standing between his parents, smiling brightly at the camera, and, in the second one, an already adult Iruka is standing with Naruto, whose happy smile rivals his own. Kakashi’s heart clenches as he feels familiar guilt uncoil in his chest.

Naruto was the son of his sensei, and Kakashi knows that he should have been taking care of him all those years, yet he cannot bring himself to get close to the boy – instead, he watches from a distance.

But with Iruka in his life, Naruto should be alright.

Consumed by his thoughts, Kakashi doesn’t hear the voices outside the apartment door until it’s too late. The key turns in the lock, and Kakashi has only a split second to make a decision. Quickly, he returns the picture to the shelf, then glances around and darts to a door, which, as it turns out, leads to a tiny closet.

There isn’t enough space to stand comfortably between cleaning supplies and storage boxes, but Kakashi is hardly in any position to complain. He tries to stay as still as possible, conceals his chakra signature, and listens.

The apartment door finally opens.

“Oh, new plants?” he hears Anko’s voice, “Good addition – I must say, they make the room look quite cozy.”

“Thank you,” Iruka replies, then adds, “Please, make yourself at home – I’ll go to the kitchen and get us something to drink. What would you like?”

“Something strong,” Anko chuckles, and Kakashi hears her plop down on the couch.

By their voices, Kakashi can tell that both Iruka and Anko are very drunk – which is to be expected, since Kakashi picked this particular night to break into Iruka’s apartment specifically because he knew that Iruka, Kotetsu, Izumo, Anko, Genma, and Raido were headed to the “Broken Kunai” to celebrate Kotetsu and Izumo’s engagement.

The sound of steps followed by glass clanking against wood notifies Kakashi that Iruka has returned.

“Oh,” Anko says excitedly, “That’s some good stuff. Though I’m a little surprised – never pegged you for the type to drink something like this.”

“Double shifts at the Mission Desk three days in a row would do that to a person,” Iruka laughs, and Kakashi hears the sound of liquid being poured into cups.

“I can only imagine,” Anko replies.

Silence falls upon them for a moment. Kakashi shifts uncomfortably, trying to make as little noise as possible – his legs already start to feel stiff from leaning over the boxes at his feet – and hopes that Anko and Iruka’s late-night drinking session will be over soon.

“So,” Anko starts slowly, “About that thing I asked you at the bar…”

“Do you have to bring it up again?” Iruka sighs.

“Oh, come on, Iruka,” Anko says, “Don’t be like this. I always tell you everything.”

“You don’t have to always tell me everything,” Iruka chuckles, not unkindly.

“We are friends,” Anko protests, “And that’s what friends do. So, it’s only natural for me to want to know what’s going on in my friend’s romantic life.”

Kakashi leans closer to the door, straining to catch every word.

“You don’t have to ask in front of everyone,” Iruka says after a pause.

“Well, luckily, now it’s just the two of us, and you have no excuse,” Kakashi can almost hear Anko smirk, “So tell me – is there something going on between you and Kakashi? I’ve seen the way he stares at you – and how you smile at him when you think no one’s looking.”

Kakashi’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Nothing’s going on,” Iruka replies, and almost palpable disappointment in his voice sends Kakashi’s heart racing in his chest.

“But you want it to,” Anko nudges him on, “I know you do – the blush on your face doesn’t lie.”

Iruka is silent for a moment. Kakashi holds his breath and feels his heart pound in his head, waiting for Iruka to respond.

“Yes,” he says finally.

It feels as though the room spins around him, and Kakashi has to hold on to the wall to still himself. He can hardly believe his ears - Iruka likes him?

“Aha, I knew it! I knew you liked him!” Anko exclaims victoriously, then adds after a pause, “Although, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know what you see in him.”

Kakashi smirks at Anko’s words – it was a mystery to him too why anyone would want to date her, and, yet, it seemed she never had a shortage of admirers.

“I…I can’t explain it,” Iruka says, “It’s just - he makes me feel things in a way that no one else does. Seeing him smile under his mask and blush makes me so weak – I immediately want to take him out on a nice date and do anything to make him happy…”

Kakashi feels heat rise to his cheeks, and he can barely contain a smile.

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” Anko says teasingly, but Iruka just chuckles.

“But then,” he continues, “Sometimes he just riles me up with that awful attitude – and even worse penmanship when it comes to his reports – and all I want to do is to drag him out of the Mission Room, get on top of him, wrap my hands around his throat and ride him all night long.”

Kakashi’s head spins and, suddenly, it feels unbearably hot in the small closet. Iruka wants to…what? Heat spreads through Kakashi’s body, pooling in his lower stomach, making it hard to think clearly. His mind races, and the world around him suddenly shrinks to just one thought – Iruka, on top of him, doing exactly what he just promised. Kakashi would be lying if he said he’d never imagined himself with Iruka that way – but never before were the images so vivid, and never before did the fantasy feel so real.

“Eww, how filthy,” Anko laughs.

“You’ve told me worse things,” Iruka replies, “Besides, I have a feeling you’ve gotten me drunk precisely to hear something like that.”

“Ah, you wound me,” Anko chuckles, “But you might be on to something. How else could I get the prim and proper Academy sensei to talk about his dirty fantasies involving a certain jonin?”

“You are evil,” Iruka laughs.

“And you love me for it,” Anko replies easily.

Suddenly, Kakashi can hear the window slide open, and someone else enters the apartment. Quiet whispers follow, but he doesn’t try to make out any words – his mind is still preoccupied with conjuring up images of him and Iruka together. His blush deepens, familiar heat courses through his veins, and for a moment, Kakashi’s almost scared that the resounding beat of his heart may betray his hiding spot.

“Well,” Anko says after a moment, “Looks like it’s time for me to head out. Sorry to cut the evening short, but duty calls.”

“We could always continue tomorrow,” Iruka offers lightly, “It’s not like I can drink all this by myself.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Anko replies, and Kakashi can hear her climbing out the window.

With Anko gone, Kakashi realizes that Iruka will likely go to sleep soon. Then he can get out of here and try to find another way to figure out what to give Iruka for his birthday…

Distracted by his thoughts, Kakashi doesn’t even notice that he’s leaning against one of the shelves – until he sends a box standing there crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Before he can figure out what to do, the door to the closet flings open, and he sees Iruka standing in front of him, holding kunai in one hand.

“Kakashi-san,” he breathes out, stunned, “What are you doing here?”

Kakashi knows he needs to say something, anything, but all he can do is stare. Drunk Iruka looks so delightfully disheveled with his tousled hair, his flushed cheeks, and his swollen lips that all Kakashi can think of for the moment is how much he’d like to ravage him right then and there.

The silence stretches as Kakashi desperately scrambles to retain some semblance of rational thinking.

“I…uh…was just passing by,” he offers weakly.

As soon as the words leave his lips, Kakashi wants nothing more than for the ground beneath his feet to open and swallow him whole. That might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. It seems that even in his drunk state, Iruka knows that because a moment later, he bursts out laughing.

“That is the stupidest excuse I’ve ever received,” he manages to utter through his laughter.

Kakashi doesn’t argue.

Once Iruka’s done laughing, his face grows suddenly serious.

“I have to ask – how much of that did you hear?”

“Everything,” Kakashi says, resigned.

His heart drops in his chest – he knows Iruka has every right to be angry with him for eavesdropping on his private conversation. Did he just ruin everything? Iruka will probably never want to see him again after this… When Kakashi finally manages to meet Iruka’s gaze, he’s surprised – there is no anger in his eyes, only amusement.

“Oh my,” Iruka murmurs softly, and then a smile blooms on his lips, “Well, I suppose this makes it easier. So, what do you think – would you like to…”

Before Iruka could finish his sentence – before he could even think, Kakashi’s fingers reach for the zipper of his flak jacket. Kakashi’s face is aflame, and he’s never been more embarrassed and turned on in his life. He knows he shouldn’t – but after aching for Iruka’s touch for so long, he can hardly deny himself.

The confused expression on Iruka’s face makes Kakashi’s hand still.

“Huh?” Iruka says, lifting an eyebrow, “Kakashi-san, who do you take me for? I’m taking you on a date first.”

This man will be the death of him.

#kakashi hakate #iruka umino #kkir #kakairu #kakairu month 2021

23 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the mermay fills: 10 & 22 with indruck? 👁️👁️ (nsfw or sfw)

I went with ten (tattoos/piercings) first, since 22 will be part of another fill. I went with NSFW, and wrote this as a follow-up to my “Heat” fill from last year.

Indrid swims up and down the hall outside the palace infirmary. He’s far from the only one doing so; the reef serpent wreaked havoc through the city before the Chosen mers defeated it. He’s not even the only person waiting to see if Duck is alright.

“Have courage, Prince Indrid Cold!” Minerva, sporting a new gash on her face, clamps her hand down on his shoulder in what he knows is her version of a comforting gesture, “Duck Newton is the strongest Chosen after myself. He will pull through.” The blue of her tentacles flashes with pride.

“Besides” Ned, the castle mer who has, against all odds, become Indrid’s closest advisor, flicks his orange and silver tail “you informed us yourself there were no futures where our friend passed away.”

“I know.” Indrid takes a breath, intending to explain the tangled net of anxiety in his chest. All that comes out is another, “I know.”

Behind him, he hears two nurses murmuring that they’d better bump the prince’s consort up in the line, but before he can turn and order them not to, they’re gone.

It happened like this: Duck kept his word, began courting Indrid properly once the seer's heat passed, and Indrid reciprocated without hesitation. This caused a near scandal; yes, Duck was a Chosen and thus noble to a degree, but Indrid was a prince, and a prized one. Indrid pointed out that he rather liked someone who cared about his welfare, not just his happiness, and if they had an issue with that, that was their problem not his. And so the comments about Duck moved from to his face to behind his back, which he counted as good enough.

Duck found the whole consort business stressful, given that he’d forgone his Chosen destiny in favor of tending the kelp forests specifically to avoid that kind of fanfare and politics. Thus, they steered clear of the castle when they could, spending their time with their friends in town or in the sunken ship Duck called home.

When the serpent attacked their town, Duck discovered the limits of his rejecting his destiny, and joined the fight to save his home. Indrid is proud of him, even if his stomach churns whenever the futures shift and he has to see whether the strings of fate weave a grimmer outcome for the man he loves.

It’s well after moonrise when he’s allowed to see Duck. The other mer is half-asleep in his infirmary bed, a massive bandage on his side and one of his tentacles bitten down to a nub

“Hey darlin” The sleepy drawl is accompanied by the mer opening his arms.

Indrid carefully settles against the non-bandaged side of him, rests his head on his chest with a relieved sigh, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Or, well, mostly alright. You’re in one piece. Sort of. I, I’m not conveying this well.”

“I ain’t dead, given how today went I’m callin that a win. Besides, this’ll grow back in no time.” He wiggles the stub of his tentacle.

“Mmm” Indrid cuddles closer, purring softly as intact tentacles pet his tail and back.

“When’d you last sleep?” Duck murmurs, kissing the top of his head.

“Not since the attack started.”

“Seems to me we’re both due for some shut eye.”

Indrid nods, right before falling asleep and dreaming of strong tentacles and stronger arms.

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

“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” Duck studies the scar on his side, his bandages having permanently come off this morning.

“I suppose so. Though, if you’ve avoided so many other parts of Chosen protocol, I fail to see how skipping this one will make things worse.”

“I dunno, I kinda like this one. Used to strike me as macho bullshit, showin off how many battle scars you got. But now...makes me think of how when the forest gets trashed by a storm, or a huge-ass monster tearin through it, there’s a certain kind of pleasure that comes from watchin it heal, watchin it go from desolated and scarred to somethin beautiful.”

Indrid loves when he talks like this, smiles dreamily as Duck adds, “you could even design it for me. I’d like that.”

“I could do you one better; I could apply it as well. And since I foresee you asking yes, I do have the training to do so. Royal mers learn to tattoo themselves, due to rules about being touched by lower ranking mers that I judiciously ignored.”

“No kiddin” Duck grins, two tentacles coiling around Indrid’s tail, teasing the red stripe, “now that I’m healed up, gonna do all kinds of things to you to remind you why you ignored those rules in the first place.”

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

“Are you nervous?” Indrid finishes setting out his tools on the pristine table in his pristine chambers. He tends towards messiness in his habits, but when it comes to Duck’s health he’s cleaned the whole place by hand and with magic. Twice.

“Nah, I know I’m in good hands.” Even as he says this, a burst of anxious yellow moves up his tentacles.

“All the same, if you need a break at any point, let me know. And if the scar starts stinging or throbbing, tell me at once.”

“You got it, darlin.”

Indrid takes his time using a spell to transfer his design to Duck’s skin, double checking the placement before picking up the charm-powered tattoo gun. When finished, the tattoo will be a small forest of kelp, with the scar making up most of the body of the serpent swimming between the leaves. Six shades of green ink, three shades of brown, one shade of copper, and black for outlining, lay on the table, Indrid dipping into each of them in turn as he brings the image to life.

“Love watchin you draw” Duck sighs, then shudders, “sorry, gettin a hell of an adrenaline rush from the pain.”

“Just try to stay still. If you twitch or fidget too much, it will cause mistakes on my end.”

“Do my best.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just have to tie you down.” Indrid says breezily. The tentacle near him pulses purple. Desire. Interesting.

He’s most of the way through when Duck’s arms shake, his tentacles following suit, occasionally bumping Indrid’s tail or sides.. They’re small movements, all things considered, but in most futures they mean he has to re-do the entire last third of the tattoo.

“Nono, this won’t do at all.” He set’s the gun down, flitting across to the closet near his bed. A sea-grass rope waits, right where he left. There hasn’t been much call for it, Duck capable of restraining Indrid in a variety of ways all on his own.

“Now” Indrid bites off several lengths of rope, “since you cannot be still, I am going to tie your tentacles down. You’re to keep your hands where I put them, or I will tie them as well.”

Ducks tentacles are now deep, unflinching purple, “Holy fuck, ‘drid.”

“Just because I am generally submissive around you does not mean I’m not capable of giving orders.” Indrid smirks, tying the first two tentacles down.

“I, I know, it’s just you, uh, you, you never talk like this.” Duck’s eyes are wide, excited even, as they track Indrid’s circular path.

“I suppose you don’t hear me during advisory meetings, so this is a new experience for you.”

“Maybe I oughta start sittin in on ‘em.” Duck whines when Indrid kisses his cheek but refuses to stick around long enough for Duck to kiss him back.

“Perhaps. Right now, however, you are to sit still until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Uh huh.” Duck smiles, docile and sweet, and Indrid wonders why they never thought to try this before.

He returns to his work, inking colors into Duck’s skin, enjoying the intimacy of learning the familiar curves of his ribs and belly in new ways. At one point he notices Duck tensing and almost moving his hand, but the other mer catches it in time.

“Good boy.” Indrid purrs.

“Fuck.” Duck tips his head back, “how much longer?”

“About ten minutes more, I’d say. You can manage it my sweet, you’re doing so well already.”

Duck whimpers low in his throat as Indrid goes back to his work. Exactly ten minutes later, he puts a protective covering atop the tattoo and pushes his supply table aside.

“There, all done. You did wonderfully.”

“Great, now untie me.” Duck wriggles hopefully.

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “In a hurry, sweet one?”

“Yes” Duck holds out a hand, trying to coax him closer.

“Whatever for?” He replies airly, as if can’t sense the arousal pouring off his boyfriend in waves, “and stop moving so much, you’ll aggravate the tattoo.”

“‘Drid please” The folds between his front-most tentacles ripple as his cock starts emerging.

“Oh I see.” Indrid swims so they’re face to face, pinning Duck’s hands to the back of the chair as he leans into his space, “you want me to fuck you, is that it? You’re willing to risk pain to new scar tissue, even marring my lovingly done work, just to have your cock played with?”

“Holyfuckinshit, why is this the first time you’re talkin like this?” Duck bites his lip with a little moan as Indrid rubs their cheeks together.

“I don’t know. In hindsight, it seems so obvious; you’re my powerful, competent mate, you always take such wonderful care of me, but you want someone to take away that power from time to time, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Duck tips his chin up, hoping for a kiss, but Indrid floats backwards out of reach,

“What shall we do about that, hmm?” He swims a slow, tight circle around the other mer, staying just out of arms reach, “shall I keep you bound until the urge passes? No, that’s far too cruel for my beloved. Perhaps I should make you see to it yourself? But no, you might accidentally hurt yourself. Hmmm, what to do, what to do….” He taps his chin as Duck growls and whines, tentacles now straining against their bonds. Indrid knows Duck could snap them easily if he needed or wanted to. Which means he wants to remain at Indrid’s mercy for the time being.

“You do look wonderful like this. I didn’t even plan it this way, but how I tied you shows off most of your assets.” Indrid rubs the upper front of his tail, “now you’re getting me all wound up.”

“Good” Duck growls, tentacles swirling purple and pink.

“Yes it, ahnnn, it is rather good, isn’t it. After all, I have the perfect solution to the situation sitting right in front of me.”

Duck’s cock is fully out, it and the slit beneath it tempting Indrid to abandon his plan. He swims in front of the other mer, eyeing his cock approvingly, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Thank fuckOHfummmhp” Duck’s surprised moan turns to a laugh as Indrid, having zipped upwards in a flash, finishes shoving his cock into Duck’s mouth.”

“Yesss, ohyes, goodness I love doing this, you look so charming with your lips around my cock. Ah, ah, don’t you dare move your hands from the chair. This” he gives a sharper thrust, “is all I need to be satisfied.”

Duck moans louder, which Indrid takes as his cue to hold his head in place and fuck into his mouth with abandon.

“That’s it love, that’s it, oh I ought to have done this months ago, tied my big strong hero down and reminded him of hisAHAnnn, his duties as consort.”

“‘M ot a ero.”

Indrid looks imperiously down his nose at him, “It’s rude to contradict someone when they’re giving you what you want, my sweet. I guess I’ll need to render you further incapable of speech” He concentrates and extends his cock, a mechanism meant to ensure he can reproduce with mers of any size or genital configuration but that he uses only to make Duck groan with pleasure.

His orgasm is already racing towards him, as it always does when Duck lets him (or orders him to) fuck his throat, and he shuts his eyes, concentrating on tight heat and the happy, muffled grunts floating up to his ears.

“Just a little, nnnn, little more my sweet, let your prince ravish your throat a little longerOH, ohgods, Duck, sweetheart, yes.” He cums, a shudder rippling down his tail, and doesn’t pull out until Duck struggles to swallow the rest down. The other mer is still collecting his breath when Indrid wiggles down and pushes his tongue into his slit.

“Fuck!” Duck jerks hard enough to move the chair an inch to the right.

Indrid snickers, wraps both hands around Duck’s cock, stroking it hurriedly as he raises his head, “What do you say, beloved?”

“Th-thank you?” Duck cracks an eye open. Indrid nods, then dips his head back down to to suck and tongue at the senstive skin.

“Fuckme, ohfuck, ‘Drid, darlin’, this is fuckin incredible, gonna, gonna be such a good consort, do whatever you say, fuck you five fuckin times a day, just, FUCK, just promise we can do this again.”

“Muv ourse.” Indrid thrusts his tongue deeper, twisting his hands on his upstrokes. The fourth time he does, he pops up to suck on the head just in time to catch Duck’s cum in his mouth. He takes his time, sucking him clean with happy trills and moans while his boyfriend utters curses that would make sailors blush.

He pulls away to wipe his mouth, intending to start untying Duck. The futures show that won’t be necessary,

Snapsnapsnapsnap

The ropes break in pairs, rapid fire, and then Duck is on him, enveloping him in arms, tentacles, and love. He tries to press closer, then winces back, “owfuck, you’re right, the tattoo is real sore.”

“It’ll be that way for a few days. Your Chosen strength will help, but you should still rest when possible.”

“I dunno” Duck kisses him sweetly, then nips his lower lip, “you know how stubborn I can be. Might have to uh, tie me to the bed.”

“That, my love, can be arranged.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills #mermay

17 notes · View notes

buriednurbckyrd · 4 years

Text

The Breakup Box (1)

She pulled into the parking spot and turned off the car. She sat for a few moments with the keys in her hand, staring off into space. Three days ago she had left the compound excited and happy, and now she was back and it was all she could do not to cry. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel and took several deep breaths. All she wanted was her bed. She wished she had the power to teleport herself there instantly, skip the walk where she could run into any number of people. She clenched her hand around the keys, the sharp metal biting into her skin. Part of her wanted to find them, her two favorite people, and let them wrap her up in their arms. Cry out the rest of her tears and spill the whole humiliating tale. The other part was praying that they were still in Wakanda. They had been when she left. Even though they had been expected back during the weekend she still hoped that they had decided to extend their visit.

“Get up, you coward,” she muttered to herself. “You can't sit here forever.” She got out of the car and slung her weekend bag over her shoulder before hefting the box that had ridden beside her in the passenger seat. Pushing the door closed with her hip she made her way inside the building. The hallways were blessedly empty and she began to wonder if some luck was finally on her side. But the closer she got to the residential areas she realized there would be no reprieve for her. Back from Wakanda then, she thought. Steve and Bucky were clearly home, laughing and joking with Sam. All three of them were directly in her way, there was no chance of sneaking to her room without being seen. Steeling herself, she walked into the open living space.

“Y/N!” The super soldiers cried in unison with brilliant smiles.

“Hey guys.” She replied, trying to keep her voice even and calm. “Have a good trip?” Bucky frowned at her greeting. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “Hi Sam.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” Steve came around the couch. “Can I help you with your box?”

“Uh, Steve...” Sam looked at the box in her hands and her expression, things adding up for him. “Maybe we should just let Y/N go on to her room. She's probably tired from her trip.” She felt almost faint from relief.

“Yeah, I'm um. Pretty beat. Just gonna...” She nodded her head in the vague direction of her room. And then scuttled out of the room as quickly as she could manage. Steve watched her leave in puzzlement.

“What was that?” He glanced over at Sam. “She didn't even look at me.”

“Don't take it personal, man. She had the break up box. Obviously her weekend getaway with Mister Boring didn't go well.”

“Break up box?” Bucky looked confused. Sam sighed.

“You know, after a couple breaks up and you have to pack up the things you've left at your significant others place? The break up box.” He explained. Steve and Bucky shared a look.

“I thought everything was good between them.” Steve said. Sam didn't respond for a few moments, but Bucky noticed the subtle eye roll directed at Steve.

“I'm sure that's what she wanted to think, and everyone else too. It was only a matter of time if you ask me. That guy was a bowl of plain oatmeal.” He glanced over in the direction she had gone. “I'm only surprised that she didn't dump his ass.”

“Wait a minute, how do you know she didn't?” Bucky asked.

“Dude, weren't you like the most dangerous assassin in the world for seventy years? And some legendary lady's man before that? Not to mention the fact that the two of you stick to her like white on rice, following her around like lost little puppies.”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“A lot, actually. I know Shuri's fixed that stabby part of your stellar personality and the Casanova shtick is a thing of the past since I'm pretty sure the only bed you're heating up these days is Steve's.”

“Jesus, Sam.” Steve flushed tomato red.

“Fuck off.” Bucky growled.

“She's also like your best friend, right? Don't you know her at all?”

“All right, that's enough,” Steve stepped in before the two men could continue their bickering. “There's no reason to argue, we're all concerned.

“Just saying, it's not that difficult to figure out what happened if you follow the signs. Especially if you know how to read people,” he shot Bucky a frustrated look. “She was clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed.”

“And she's definitely been crying.” Steve said softly.

“Put that together with the fact that she was all jazzed about going to see that guy when she left. She expected some romance. And now she's back, upset, and carrying a sad little box of trinkets.”

“I still don't know how I'm supposed to figure all that out in a span of five minutes.” Bucky huffed.

“You're not,” Steve said before Sam could say something snide. “And you might be good at reading people, but that doesn't mean you're right. Any number of things could have happened.” He shot back up to his feet. “Anything could have happened. Something to her family. We should go check on her.” Sam picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

“I'm telling you, it's a break up. And if she wanted to talk about it she wouldn't have run off to her room.”

…

Y/N shut the box in her closet. She didn't have the emotional energy to even look at it, let alone go through it. She stood in front of her bed, tempted to just strip down, crawl under the blankets, and slip into the oblivion of sleep.

“No. Go wash your face and brush your damn teeth,” she scolded herself. “I refuse to be a tragic cliche.” She forced herself to take her time, focusing all her thoughts on the tasks at hand. It worked for a little while, until she was in her most comfortable pajamas laying in her bed. Then the thoughts came rushing back. All those bitter words. The accusations. She rolled over and buried her face in a pillow and groaned.

It had all been a disaster from the beginning. She tried to plan something fun and special and it had blown up in her face spectacularly. Worse, she should have seen it coming. Well, you know what they say about hindsight. A timid knock at her door interrupted her self pity.

“Y/N?” She sat up quickly when Steve called out. Her door cracked open. “Y/N we just wanted to check on you.” She looked over and saw both his and Bucky's worried faces.

“I'm fine.” She said tightly. “Was there anything else?” She felt terrible when they seemed to flinch at her cool tone.

“It's just…” Bucky bit his lip before pushing his way into her room. “Sam thinks you were dumped.” He cringed. “I mean...that came out wrong. We just want to make sure you're really okay.” Her eyes blazed with anger.

“I said I'm fine,” she snapped. “And no offense, but I don't really want to be around a happy, functional couple right now.” She turned away and stared at the wall.

“Y/N, sweetheart...” Steve took a few steps towards her bed.

“Seriously, I just want to be alone!” She yelled, and cursed herself when her voice cracked. “Leave me alone.” She whispered, choking back tears. There were a few moments of silence and then she heard the men retreat and shut her door with a quiet click.

The tears streamed down her cheeks now, she couldn't hold them back anymore. And even though she had ordered Bucky and Steve to leave her room, when she wrapped her arms around herself she couldn't help wishing they hadn't listened.

And that, she finally admitted to herself, was the root of most, if not all, of her current troubles.

***I’ve been wanting to write a poly relationship fic since I dabbled with Steve/Reader/Bucky in a previous work. I’d love and appreciate any comments/feedback as I work on this.

#Steve x Bucky #Steve x Reader x Bucky #Stucky x Reader #Reader insert #plus sized reader

116 notes · View notes

sympathy-for-thedamned · 3 years

Note

♥ - for your muse's feelings abt mine

There was once a point in time where I could have called you a friend...perhaps a time where I meant it. It's hard finding people I can see eye-to-eye with for multiple reasons. You like to keep it hidden, but you are every bit the cold businessman I am.

I once reveled in the fact that you were cold and willing to go through any length to protect that fortune of yours. I knew it was everything you treasured, everything you held close to you...years upon years of hard work and cold business deals.

It's why I decided to take it from you bit-by-bit and weaponize it against you through funding my organization. Nothing would make you feel worse.

After all, with all great wealth comes the shadows that billow from the closet. Whether it's your doing or that of your ancestors is not important. We both know there is no upright rich man.

In many ways, you succeeded where I had failed. If you walked into a room, people turned their heads and where humbled by your presence. If I did that, I was spit on and called a mad man. Perhaps I was in hindsight, but I was an articulate mad man. It must be nice for you to have so many chances and ways to be redeemed.

Taking accountability was always something of a weakness for you. You'd rather blame me for what you lack. The belief that Della had passed because I gave her information of the rocket's existence. Someone who was an adult with a brain in her head. That was a choice she made in a moment of rashness. That is her accountability.

In all of the madness and what you thought was "loss" I couldn't understand why you chose to cause chaos and go adventuring when you knew the consequences. When you've experienced them full force, but you're foolhardy, aren't you? At this point, you've acknowledged being impervious to peril.

It wouldn't be terrible if you had only involved yourself, but you made it your point to drag others into it. I have to wonder...how much blood do you truly have on your hands? How many tears stain the "good" name of McDuck?

You never cared to listen to reason. You were always stubborn and turned a blind eye to others. You would think with Della's alleged "passing" and all of the time you spent torn up over it that it would twist you mentally in some way.

People who throw everything to reckless abandon always hurt others. Even when its right in front of you, you pride exploration over consideration. Children are fragile and impressionable. Didn't you ever stop to think about how they're affected by this? It may fun for you to stare death in the eye, but do you honestly think children feel the same?

As much as I despise it, I can see why you admire Isabella Finch. There are some ways that you remind me of her...and that is NOT a compliment. But, what would you care? You only care about yourself and your riches, You never stopped to ask what MY damage was. Why I felt the way I did. Why we were antithesis of each other... and in my earlier days I may have done it. I might have considered that you were worth reopening my wounds for, if nothing else to make you understand what your adventuring does to people around you.

But, even in that moment you were as cold and unmoving as anyone else I've stood toe-to-toe with.

It's really not a wonder all you do is sit alone, secluded to yourself.

It's truly a pity you never stayed that way.

I could stand here and think about what could have been, but I have no time for whimsical pipe dreams.

#moneydiver #sorry this took so long to answer

3 notes · View notes

some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

Huwumi: "I think I'm in love with you and that scares the crap out of me."

Oh, Anon... I am so weak for soft, emotional confessions like this~!

"Avoidance is the approach of a coward," Father had once told her. It was one of the few pieces of advice he offered her after her Quirk presented and he deemed her a failure. She hadn't thought much about it back then. After all, she had no plans to go into Heroics so it seemed rather impractical of him to give. Especially since it was mere weeks after she'd announced her decision to go into education.

Hindsight, however, revealed that he was correct. And that she, Todoroki Fuyumi, was a damned coward.

She was a little embarrassed about it, if she were honest. She was almost 23 - a grown ass adult! - but she was still playing silly kid games like this. She wanted to blame her students in some small, immature way. When one spends most of the hours of the day interacting with and grading assignments completed by children who are just starting to grasp concepts like the toilet and reading words, one could arguably develop some tendencies gleaned from that age range. Like how her students tended to shy away from new things because they were scary. Typically in the form of one of the students acting up or attempting to derail a lesson to avoid the subject all together.

Which worked great for preschoolers with preschooler problems. Not so much for Fuyumi and her 5'8" of Winged Hero problem.

And a part of her knew she was being silly. It wasn't like Pro Hero Hawks - or Takami Keigo, as she addressed him in private - had done anything to earn the cold shoulder from her. Or, rather, not intentionally or even knowingly. It was just a her problem brought on by her own hang ups and fears. He really didn't deserve the treatment she was giving him and she knew that. And that knowledge only worked to further highlight why her fears were absolutely founded and why avoiding him was the right course of action.

It had all started out from a mutual physical attraction nearly a year prior. It was at one of those charity events where Pros went to rub elbows and grease palms and do other such things she'd been trained to look away from. And it wasn't like she hadn't seen him before. Hawks was a model when he wasn't working as a Pro, for heaven's sake! She'd seen him in magazines in various states of dress and camera filter effect. She'd seen him on the news, all red and gold, zipping to and fro to save civilians. She was aware he was an attractive guy but something about seeing him there, dressed to the nines and his hair slicked back, had certainly done something for her specifically.

And if she ended up spending a portion of that night ushered away from prying eyes with his tongue down her throat? Well, nobody else had to know.

Things continued like that between them; playing like they were teenagers hiding in broom closets all over again. And it was… honestly nice. He wasn't Fuyumi's first foray into relationships but things with Hawks felt different, hit different. The physical side of things were very good and she had no complaints there. A good portion of the people she had dated in the past had done so without any real sincerity. They were just interested in her because of her family ties to the Number Two Pro Hero and what being important to her could win them. After the fourth time someone asked her out for the express purpose of using her to fast track their own Heroics career, she decided to just circumvent the emotional side of things. She would stick rather tightly to friends-with-benefits arrangements to get that infernal itch scratched and then dip the moment a partner started trying to push for more.

But Hawks was different. He didn’t need her for any of that. He was the Number Two by his own merits and skill. He didn’t need to use her as a rung on that social ladder when he was already hovering right at the top.

But that didn’t mean the emotional side of things didn’t still terrify Fuyumi.

And slowly things were becoming less physical. Or, rather, he was seeking her out for more than just a quickie. It started as him walking her home from work every so often, when his shifts and days off lined up properly. It was… nice. He never talked about his own work day when she asked, but he would ask her about hers. He’d listen to her anecdotes about her students and the mayhem they enjoyed causing or the latest plot twist in the drama she was watching. He would hover around the Todoroki estate those days, stay for dinner and watch a few programs with her before leaving for the night. From there, it progressed to him taking her out for lunches or coffees when their days off lined up over the months to follow. They’d talk about this or that and it just felt so right, like she could just be herself and that was enough to keep him engaged with her.

But then he had offered her a smile, chin cupped in one hand and a look that was far too soft in his eyes, and declared, “See, this is the best expression on you. When you talk about something you really care about, your eyes light up and you talk a little faster. It’s cute.”

That exchange had her confronting her own feelings and, unsure of what to do with those epiphanies, she decided to run away. And that was two weeks ago.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” she chided herself as she gathered her things at the end of her day. She’d been able to ignore his texts and calls easily enough, and then been able to dodge him when he stopped by her work by convincing some of her peers to claim she was busy with something or had already left for the day. So far he hadn’t tried to come by the Todoroki estate but she was certain it was only a matter of time. He was well-versed with where she lived and the inner workings of the Todoroki home from their meet-ups. “Eventually you’ll have to talk to Hawks about it.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I’m flattered or concerned that I’ve been on your mind,” Fuyumi didn’t even bother trying to muffle the startled squeak she released as she whipped around to face the figure leaning heavily on the frame of her classroom door. He was still in his Hero uniform, even still sporting his visor, and his headphones hanging at his neck. A small part of her wished he’d been wearing them so that he didn’t hear her.

She took a deep breath to compose herself before standing up a little straighter. “Hawks,” she said, dipping her head politely. Perhaps if she aimed for being politely callous he’d just leave on his own accord. That way she could spare herself having to say anything condemning because saying things out loud would make them all far too real.

He stepped forward and she moved back, watching his movements carefully. She didn’t like that he was wearing his visor. It made it harder for her to read his mood. She had learned that his eyes tended to be the biggest give away to what he was really thinking at any given moment. It was incredibly subtle things she’d noticed - the slightest slackening of his upper lids when he was content, the slimming of his pupils when something displeased him - but she found it all incredibly enthralling. “Oh, so I’m Hawks now? Not Keigo?”

She opened her mouth to make some kind of smart retort back, like calling attention to the fact that he was still adorned in his Hero gear, but the words wouldn’t come. Her hands shifted grip at the edge of her desk behind her, trying to find something to ground her. “I need to get home and start on dinner before Father gets home,” she said, forcing the excuse out and having to resist wincing at how forced the words sounded.

He moved slowly towards her, like he was approaching a startled animal. Which, she realized, was a pretty fair assessment. If she wanted to make a teasing comparison based strictly on name alone, he was the hawk and she was the field mouse poised on a tree stump in a field. Once he was close enough he settled one hand beside hers on the desk and leaned closer to her. “Look, if I did something to piss you off, just tell me. Ghosting me doesn’t fix anything,” he said, a bite of irritation making his voice a bit harsher than usual.

Not that she blamed him.

“You didn’t,” she said evenly, leaning more heavily against her desk to put just a hair of extra space between them.

“So you’ve been ignoring me for no reason?”

“There’s a reason but it’s not-!” she cut herself off, scowling up at him for a second before fixing her glare on the floor. “It’s not a you thing. It’s a me thing.”

He growled quietly and it startled her enough to look up at him, taking in the frustration and hurt she could just barely make out. “Don’t give me that ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ bull! Just tell me the truth!” This was exactly what she’d been hoping to avoid. She didn’t want to hurt him. Underneath the bravado of the big, confident playboy, she’d seen he was a genuinely sweet guy. And she knew that, some day, she’d end up hurting him.

She’d hurt them both, but she could deal with breaking her own heart. No, what she dreaded was having to hurt him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she admitted, forcing herself not to flinch as she watched his body stiffen, “and that… that scares the Hell out of me.”

She was trembling after the words escaped her. She wasn’t sure why she’d let the truth out. Maybe to just rip the bandage off now? Just get it over with and embrace the pain sooner rather than later? She knew she had already started to as the silence between them stretched out and she let her gaze fall. This was it, she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. He’d tell her she was crazy and walk away and she’d be hurt for a while and she’d swear off exclusivity again. But then there’s a gloved hand cupping the side of her face and tilting her head up. She felt her shaking get worse as her eyes met his, visor removed, and saw nothing but what she could only call… relief? “What if you weren’t the only one who was scared of that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” she breathed as his thumb traced along her cheekbone.

“I’m not exactly versed in the way of relationships,” he laughed quietly, the tension slowly waning from his body. She felt herself start to relax and match him a bit more. “I mean, I wasn’t really raised in an environment where that kinda thing was… given a lot of focus. I’ve had a few other sexual partners, sure, but a committed relationship where it’s about more than that? Never. I never really wanted that until you, Fuyumi.”

She swallowed hard. “I'm not easy to be with,” she mumbled before she could stop herself, her voice cracking and trembling.

“Are you trying to persuade me to walk away? Because that isn’t going to work. I’m not one to just walk away from something once I’ve got my hooks in,” he said, amusement dripping from his words as he pulled her closer. His wings spread out and curled around them, too, as tucked her head under his chin and let them mutually rest against each other. “When you really do want me to go, I’ll go. But until then? You’ll just have to get used to having me around.”

She wanted to tell him he was wrong, because that was a silly thing to say, but she also knew how happy his words made her selfish heart. She knew how much she wanted to hear those words and have them be worth something more than hot air. For as much as she wanted to cling to him she also wanted to shove him away. Because good things never lasted for Fuyumi. Good things in her life were fickle; either leaving abruptly like her brother and mother, or being nothing but surface level like her past partners. For as much as she wanted something or someone good to be permanent, she knew it wasn’t.

She closed her eyes and let herself melt into his embrace, forcing her mind to shut down as her fingers curled in the material of his jacket.

Dear God did she want this to be the one good thing that didn’t fade.

#crumbles grumbles #Huwumi #my fics #God I'm just in a MOOD FOR SOFT SHIT LIKE THIS #Gonna have to crank out like 20 more Huwumi fics like this in near future #Also I altered the requested line just a *little bit*#Also also Hawks might be a little OOC in this?

41 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years

Text

rantipole (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: rantipole (v.) - to be wild and reckless

Word Count: 2.9k

You know him well – too well, maybe. Your mother said that about two years into your friendship, claiming you 'needed other friends,' which you never actually got despite her insistence. Watching him grow with you and never counting the days, wasting away your youth in all the best ways possible, it was hard to want more than that. Him and his long eyelashes, the dusting of the freckles across his cheekbones. That was special. That was yours. He was special. You were his; sometimes you wondered if he in his entirety belonged to you. Would you even deserve it if you did?

Unlike you, he had lots of friends. Not that he was very close with any of them; according to you, there were two very distinctive sides of him, and a third that was false. The third was the way you met him, acting a polite little Christian boy in front of his parents – you'd thought him so sweet and innocent. Then he opened his mouth and the bitter scent of alcohol scented filthy words that would taint Lucifer himself. That was the second side of him, the one he used in front of his classmates, the one the general world knew, the one that every girl fell for, the one every boy yearned to both hate and love. It took a long while before you discovered his first side, though, and it was one you were happy to never share. Thoughtful, with every remembered fact and logged memory that made up the image of you that he knew. He remembered the way you took your coffee, not that he put it to use very often, and he remembered your siblings and your pets, your favorite color and each joke you couldn't help but laugh at. It was sweet. He was sweet, but you'd never tell him that.

For the longest time you had no idea as to why he bothered to spend time with you. He had other people much more interesting, and your mother wondered the same thing – she knew of his reputation around school. The question dissipated after a few years, vanishing as fast as it had come. Some things simply were that way, and it just so happened he was built for you as you were built for him, matching for the sake of matching. Nothing else seemed important, certainly not your massive crush on him that started around the age of 15.

The two of you were rather different. It was probably why your mother was ever so dubious about your friendship, which, in hindsight looking back at your childhood, was a valid query. You were silent. You never raised your hand in class and your comments to the general populace consisted mainly of 'excuse me,' 'thank you,' and 'sorry.' He was sultry, outspoken at the worst of times and coy at the best, which you adored about him. Like a show only you two could ever know, you pretended around others, put up false personalities and never minded the comments on your stark friendship.

It was sometime in later high school years that he started drinking heavily. This fact isn't worth mentioning for any horrible reason; he did not become violent, he did not use harsh words, he did not change as a person. He did, however, most definitely become a frequent user, and while this fact by itself means very little it marks the point where, from your point of view, your relationship pulled a whole 180.

You could clearly remember the first time he got drunk in front of you, for better or worse (though, with your mental health in question, probably for worse). A school dance where some freshman laced the juice bowl with cheap, strong alcohol they'd gotten from their parents. The teachers never found out who it was, only that it had to be a freshman, which you and Merriel found hilarious. At the time, however, he fully indulged himself, swinging haphazardly from the metal drain pipes while you watched in unaltered silence. He'd sung, something you couldn't understand or bother yourself with attempting to recognize, and continued to do so for the next ten minutes. The second you tried to help him, reach your hand out to stop his dizzying swinging, your touch shocked him into some sick form of sobriety.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, tighter than he'd ever held you and pulled you far away from the drainpipes out back of the school. Trampling muddy feet through the hallways he led you to the janitors closet – a place the two of you frequented when up to mischief – pushed you inside, followed you, locked the door behind the two of you, and with that the light went out. You felt your back hit the wall behind you with little grace, a firm hand on your shoulder pushing you into it and forcing you to stay. Then his breath, hot and harsh against your skin, brushed up your neck, stopping right below your ear where he proceeded to bite at you, drawing the slightest amount of blood as you yelped quietly. His lips met yours and in an instant your heart burnt to ash, your mind running with a million thoughts and your body forcing a thousand actions out of you. You'd never done that before, never been touched like that, certainly not in such a passionate fashion as his. Desperate to feel your heat his hands ran up your shirt, grasping tight around your bare waist and pulling you closer.

That was six years ago. From that night onwards he never stopped, and the situation mutated into something you never saw happening at any point in your life. At least twice a week he would invite you to a night out (you always said yes), and usually in one of those evenings he would drink to blackout, pull you into a closet, and kiss you fiercer than any of your partners ever would.

Tonight is one of those nights. It hasn't happened yet but you can already see it on the horizon, growing closer with each shot he took, competing against a heavy-set man wearing a leather biker's vest. You sat at the bar, watching them sit across from each other and down their drinks. Fortunately for the both of you, the biker-man's friend decided to fund the expedition, which made Merriel lose what little self restraint he had.

After the tenth-or-so shot they're fully inebriated (it didn't really help that he'd had two beers before this), swaying in their seats as you just laugh, watching as they attempt to force down another. Five more and the biker passes out, Merriel shouting out his victory in a slurred voice. Around him the audience cheers, patting him on the back as he tries to stand, making the short way back to you.

"Impressed?" He asks, his tongue heavy in his mouth. You chuckle, shaking your head – he's taken more and been fine, not that he should've.

"Yes. Terribly impressed," is what you say instead. He grins wide, the expression melting as his gaze lingers on you, on your lips, as he bites at his lower lip and his eyes glaze over.

Reaching towards you his fingers wrap around your wrist, something you've grown to know as familiar, something that makes you both sick and excited. He pulls you off your stool, dragging you through the disordered crowd towards the back door of the bar. In an instant the cold air hits you, distant jazz music echoing in the empty alley filled with trash and mysterious fluids. Curling his fingers tighter around you he pushes you up against the brick wall, pressing his chest right against yours till the scent of his intoxication fills your head, dizzying your thoughts till his lips meld with yours. He's soft, he's always been soft but his actions say otherwise. He grips at your hair, tugging and biting at your lip, practically grinding into you as soft pants fall between you.

"God, I love you," he mutters, the words kissing themselves into you, shocking you into stillness.

"What?" You breath out, trying to stop his frantic hands searching your body. It's the first time he's said that.

"I want you to be mine, entirely," he admits, just barely leaving your space to say the words before he attempts to lean in again, which you respond to with pushing him away. Your mind is melting, and now not just at his touch – he's never said anything even remotely like that, not in any drunken make-out session he's initiated or in any holy, quiet space. He's not that kind of person, he doesn't say things like that.

"You're drunk," you say at last as he stares into your eyes. You should've said that sooner, six years sooner, but you were wrapped up in the secrecy, the pleasure. You should've said something sooner.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he mumbles, his accent growing thicker as he pulls you closer by the waist. You acquiesce, letting gentle kisses patter against your jawline and neck, against your lips and your temple. As your eyelids flutter shut from his touch, the evening dissipates into nothing as it always does.

In the morning, you wake up first, your hair a mess when you rise from your untidy bed. A glance to the side and half the sheets are off the bed, Merriel snoring on the floor with his limbs splayed out. Trying to keep your laugh quiet, you leave the room on tip toe, shutting the door behind you as you go to make breakfast. When he wakes up he sits at the table and you say nothing. He doesn't need to know what you heard last night, and you don't need confusion and chaos in your life.

Four days later he invites you to a party that his coworker is hosting at some sort of bar, a much nicer one than the last time he promises. Unfortunately, he alerts you of this occasion about an hour before it's supposed to start, making you rush through your clothing choices and styling. Halfway through finishing your hair he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the bathroom and rushing you outside where you grab a taxi in the rain.

"You can't just tell me when things are happening an hour before they're happening," you say in the car, fidgeting in your clothes and anxiously checking your hair in the rear view mirror.

"T' be fair, I didn't know it was happening. I jus' got a call from him," he explains with a shrug, feeling a whole lot more nonchalant than you felt, your hand clutched on your wallet.

Blue lights shine onto the wet pavement, bright lines striking against the rain as you open the car door, stepping outside. Merriel puts his hand on the small of your back, rushing you inside to avoid the rain. Once inside the touch ceases, not that you really notice – that's something he often does. The bar sat in the left corner of the large room, the blue tiles of the counter spanning a good amount of space, sitting opposite of the raised platform where a jazz band plays. In the hazy smoke from the many lit cigarettes you could see the dim blue lights, shadowing your skin and obscuring the specifics of everyone's faces.

"How could Pat afford a band?" You ask in a whisper, leaning in so only Merriel could hear you.

"I dunno, I don't think this is his joint, if y' know what I mean," he says, not turning to you, his eye caught on some girl ordering a Shirley temple at the bar.

"Go have fun," you say with a small chuckle, pushing him forward. He stumbles slightly but takes the steps toward her, and from there you look away, trying to interest yourself in the bass line of the melody swirling in the smoke.

For the most part you don't drink alcohol. If you ever got drunk with Merriel around you knew how it would turn out – you knew you'd wake up with regret, probably with him naked in your bed because for some reason when he's drunk he can't get enough of you. There was only one time you got drunk, and that was alone at home in high school, and the entire time you couldn't stop thinking about him. His mannerisms, the short and quick movements of his fingers when he's anxious, the way he sucks in a breath whenever he's in awe. At the time you couldn't get it out of your head, and now watching him flirt with the Shirley temple girl you find yourself so much like you were in high school. When his fingers drag over her face, pushing her black hair out of her face you almost break the coaster you'd been fiddling with. You promptly look away again.

Over the course of the night several people ask you to dance, the music picking up as the lights grow into a dizzying intensity, but you decline each time. Instead you just watch, you watch Merriel drift from girl to girl. His belt is tight around his hips, showing off his thin waist with the button down that bundles around his chest and arms, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. What started as neat, trimmed hair becomes messy and unkempt throughout his avid dancing. You're content to watch, or that's what you tell yourself – either way you remain unmoved from your seat, the pop in your hands fizzing away as it looses its cold. You don't bother to keep track of how many drinks Merriel has had either, since you can already tell from the way he sways on his feet and the slur in his accent.

Somewhere around midnight he approaches you, sitting in the chair beside yours. Resting his chin on his palm, he stares at you, absorbing your entirety, or something like that; it's a little hard to tell when his stare is discomforting. He's got wide eyes that look like he's gone into shell shock sometimes, an intensity you can very rarely stand. You certainly can't stand it this time, so you look back out into the crowd, pretending you can't feel him burning holes into your face.

"(Y/N)," he says, and you turn to him. After that he says nothing, just reaching for you, fingers brushing against your cheek just like how he brushed the hair away from the Shirley temple girl.

"You alright?" You ask in full awareness that no, he's not alright.

In full view of the crowd he leans in, kissing you before you could even process that he'd grown closer, moving soft and tender against you, yearning for your touch against his. You want to pull away, you feel sick when you think about how anyone could see, but your body thinks otherwise. Reaching for him you can feel your fingers wrapping around his wrist, feeling his pulse rushing against yours. He pulls you closer. You don't know how to say no when all you can do is love him better.

"People can see us," you finally say in a quiet voice, barely able to say the words before his lips meet yours once more.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"I dunno, I just thought..." he pulls away, never breaking eye contact as he leans back in his seat. "I thought you'd mind."

Usually when he drunk-kisses you he does it in private.

"I don't care if the world knows I love you," he says, the second time he's said that, and you're still in shock from the first time he said it so your stupor only grows worse. As you try to process his words he leans in again, his hand coming to the back of your head and forcing you closer, closer still, like you give him purpose, like a moment without you is a moment unworthy of living remembrance.

"You're drunk," you say in a stumble, unsure of what else to say.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he replies in a murmur. It's exactly what he said last time, and just like last time his hand moves to your waist and pulls you into his world of electrifying touch.

You say nothing in the morning.

This becomes the new routine – get drunk, confess your love, get 'rejected,' and forget in the morning. It repeats over and over again till you almost grow sick of it. He can't say anything when he's sober, and you don't trust that, so you never remind him and he never brings it up. You don't even know if he remembers. He probably doesn't, considering he never acts as though anything has changed, but you know he's smart. He bides his time, he's witty, and he's cunning – if he has something planned he's made sure you know nothing. It's a trait you admire and abhor.

Maybe one day you'll tell him. You'll tell him how you love his voice, the way he mumbles his words and the intensity he carries constantly, how he dresses and the way he walks. He'll know you adore him for everything he is, and yeah – he probably won't believe you. He'll probably say 'I don't deserve this.' He'll treat you like you're precious, like you're fragile and any false move will break your trust and ruin your relationship.

Maybe one day, you keep telling yourself, watching him dance with other people. Maybe one day he'll know you're his, that you've been his the entire time, that he never needed to lie or try so hard, that you simply liked him for who he is.

Who knows.

#snafu x reader #merriel snafu shelton #rami malek #the pacific #rami malek character #gender neutral reader

55 notes · View notes

naruthings · 5 years

Text

THE NEJITEN FANFICTION RECOMMENDATION MASTERLIST

oh, anon, the lack of nejiten fics thrive in the hearts of many… i may have similar experiences myself……………

but fear not, i have searched far and wide and i have returned and came back stronger than ever before!!! after re-reading every single nejiten fic i have on my favorites… handpicked the best ones and returned with even more fic recs!!! so ladies and gentlemen, i present to you, only THE BEST NEJITEN FICS YOU WILL READ ON FANFICTION DOT NET. HERE WE GO!!!

HALL OF FAME: ONE-SHOTS

THE BEST one-shots you will find on the site. Some are fluffy, some are sad, some will make you want to rip your heart out. But rest assured that without a doubt these fics are the absolute frivvy. These will not disappoint!

Tier 1: Spring — Here we appreciate the beauty of simplicity. Fics full of fluff and spunk that end in one and will make you end up feeling peppy and happy afterwards. A refreshing break from the complexities of life, short and sweet but nicely written, representing everything bright and new and blossoming, but most importantly, pure. So, friends, get your toothbrushes ready, because you are in for a sweet ride!

Tags: fluff, romance, humor, family, friendship

1. The Kissing Booth by BrownEyedHoneyBadger

— “ Lee was already reaching for a dollar inside his pocket. Mentally, Tenten began to scream. No. No. NO. This could not be happening. She should get up and run. Screw charity work. She was not kissing the guy whose eyebrows were furrier than the school mascot.”

Comments: A great start into the journey. NEJI IS SO GODDAMN SMOOTH. basically this fic is incredibly witty and genius. ugh!!

2. Psst! by Arkana

— “Lee finds out about Neji and Tenten’s relationship the hard way. The VERY hard way. “

Comments: I BUST MY ASS LAUGHING AT THIS ONE. I SWEAR THIS IS THE BEST, SWEETEST MOST IDIOTIC SHIT I HAVE EVER READ. PLS GIVE IT A GOOO

3. Conversations: Somniloquy by Mendori-chan

— “Neji. Your spit is warm.“

Comments: A storytelling all in dialogue. The perfect reenactment of something supposed to be short and sweet. I loved the dialogue and continue to love it!!

4. Godiva by Toboe Lonewolf

— “Neji had broken one of the most hallowed rules known to woman. ‘Thou shalt not steal her chocolate.’ Tenten’s going to make sure he never does it again. At least, not without her permission.”

Comments: just the fluffiest fluff out there!!

5. Screw Chivalry by Hearts and Stuff

— “Tenten didn’t want to do it. Really. But Neji shouldn’t have been such a butt.”

Comments: FUNNY AND HUMOROUS. I loved this so much! Has one of my favorite dialogue in any fic, really. PROBABLY REREAD THIS LIKE 100 TIMES IN 7TH GRADE

6. Hindsight by YamiPaladinofChaos

— “Sasuke and Tenten, on a date? Neji is not happy, not in the least. And of course, it’s all Naruto’s fault. No, really. It is.”

Comments: Okay, THIS SHIT WAS HILARIOUS. OH MY GOD. THANK U FOR THIS WONDERFUL AND FUNNY ASS FIC. kinda gets weird tho but i guess it’s part of the appeal.

7. I’m a Kunoichi, But by notesonlife

— “Tenten and Neji read a feminist book. And of course, trouble ensues, as Neji becomes increasingly aware that Tenten is currently, and may have always been, a girl.”

Comments: So, guys, notesonlife has always been one of my favorite authors early on my nejiten phase, and this is one of my favorites. please read their other stories as well!

8. The Problem with Hats by Aquarius Galuxy

— “Broken a/c, a tipped-over Weinermobile, and a girl who can’t seem to stop bugging him. It seems as if Neji’s day can’t get any worse than this.”

Comments: A sweet, well written fic by one of the writing senpais herself, @aquariusgaluxy ! I love both Neji and Tenten here so much!! NEJI IS SO FCKN CUTE HERE!! AND CHEEKY TENTEN!!!! AAA

9. Mission: Reverse Nejiten by Adelle-chan

— “Tired of all the failed attempts, Naruto uses Lee’s beliefs to get the two together. Or sort of.”

Comments: HOLY CRAP THIS WAS GREAT AND FUNNY AS HELL. Characterization is on point. This is my definition of a perfect naruto fic — where the other characters interact with the ship and the dynamic is great, like it’s part of the main story all along. i fucking love this one.

10. Truth Be Told by Mistress of Sarcasm

— “Hyuuga Neji falls for Tenten the day she almost broke his nose. Tenten doesn’t think of Hyuuga Neji as boyfriend material until an hour before he confesses.”

Comments: Holy crap! this was sweet as fuck! also one of the OG fics I want you all to read. Please give it a try!

11. Fifty Winks by Sandataba

— “Oversleeping is sometimes a good thing.”

Comments: Nice and Fluffy. shit u want to eat. I found the last part super cute!!!!! STILL think abt this fic from time to time.

12. Boxers by notesonlife

— “In which Tenten reorganizes Neji’s underwear drawer, and Neji decides to propose.”

Comments: OKAY, THE FLUFF IN THIS ONE WAS SIMPLY TOO MUCH. IT WAS TOO GOOD MAN. PERFECTION.

13. Rush Hour by Poisoned Scarlet

— “It was during one of those days; when the crowd was at it’s fullest, that he strolled into the shop and inadvertently humiliated her.”

Comments: Heehee. this one was cute.

14. Actions Speak Louder by Lotos-Eater

— “Short oneshot containing a dangerous amount of fluffiness. The surgeon general recommends you brush your teeth immediately after reading.”

Comments: HOLY FUCK. THIS ONE WAS SO, SO CUTE. ISTG THIS SHIT WAS. AAAAAAA. JUST PERFECT. *CHEF’S KISS* PERFECT.

15. Keeping Up Appearances by 716799

— “Them? Caught in the act? NEVER.”

Comments: okay, at first i was a little hesitant to add this fic but THOUGHT IT WAS THE PERFECT ENDING!! SO SWEET N FLUFFY!!!

MORE UNDER THE CUT!!

Tier 2: Summer — Stories serving as a reminder of our lazy, hazy days of summer — complete with all the thrumming romance, sexual tension, and drama that reflect easily so on those summery teenage memories. They’re sweet, spicy, sometimes heavy, but have all the ingredients you need for the perfect sunset fics. Read with passion! Let’s go!!

tags: romance, drama, lime, spicy

1. a memory stick filled with myspace friends by straw8erries

— “fake facebook dating: it’s really cute, she swears.”

Comments: Funny, spicy, a little heavy, but nonetheless hot, what other story to start off this tier? It’s a college AU , maybe not with the closure that you would expect from something like a summer romance, but it has these moments that shine.

2. Singing Sirens by 716799

— “Everything about this says that it’s not going to work. But Tenten has always specialised in disasters, and nothing in their world is a coincidence.”

Comments: Sooooooo hot. I love the goddamn dialogue, the characters feel so fresh and new but so true to heart at the same time. Please give it a try!

3. In Coffee City, We Borrowed Heaven by Aquarius Galuxy

— “It wasn’t as if he wanted to take this class, anyway. Reproductive Health 1101 was for people who couldn’t look up information on Google. Or someone who needed a science module to fit in his already-packed schedule. Hyuuga Neji belonged to the latter group of students, and he was in no mood to explain himself.“

Comments: As always, @aquariusgaluxy never fails. This was equally hot and equally clever, and you can’t help but with it were longer, but isn’t that the point??? sometimes ambiguity is also magical

4. Sixth Time’s the Charm by thedarkangel22

— "Gosh, Neji, where’s your sense of adventure, huh?” “I managed to lose it somewhere between the third and fourth time we were caught with your hand down my pants.” Where Tenten and Neji can’t seem to resist one another.

Comments: I remember reading this fic over and over again because I couldn’t get over how nicely written it was. Great plot, set up, dialogue, seeks excitement throughout the whole fic. Exhilarating. Pls read.

5. Revolver by Scintazzle

— “’You’d better not get in my way, incompetent novice.’ Tenten just got a new partner in crime. Unfortunately, he’d like nothing better than to work alone.”

Comments: Holy holy shitttttt, what is it with nejiten and agent cop AUs? They’re so goddamn hot. This one is no exception.

6. Recess by NessieGG

— “Tenten gets stuck on desk duty, but it’s a kind she’s not used to. 'Neji, I’m not going to have a make out session with you in a broom closet.'”

Comment: One comment: hehehehHHEHEHEHEHEHE

7. Eggnog by iflip4dolphins

— “She had slept with her worst enemy, and now she was trying to remember what had happened.”

Comments: OH MY GOD, this fic has such a good writing style. And such a great composition too. I just love everything about this fic. More love for this fic please. i super love it. I REREAD IT ALL THE TIME. IT’S LIKE MY GO-TO FOR PERFECT NEJITEN CHARACTERIZATION AND FLUFF. You will too!

8. Tension by Interim

— “Tension mounts when Tenten finds a surprise in her shower.”

Comments: YES. HDFGIHILHGIH.

9. I Swear I’m not Drunk Officer by fanfictioner22

— “The title says it all.”

Comments: THIS WAS FUNNY OK. and it had that spicy tinge to it that makes u wanna go mmmmf. MOTHERFUCKER!!

10. Airless by NessieGG

— “This was not the type of assignment that Team Gai specialized in. 'There’s something else you should know about the Grass nin…'”

Comments: OH MY GOD, this fic is all sorts of special! The drama, the tension…. the best resolution ever. written impeccably by the ever-talented nessiegg too. god i love this fic. it rlly has it all. v captivating!

11. In Men’s Clothing by voidforrent

— “It wasn’t that Neji didn’t find Tenten’s breasts attractive; he was just trying to be respectful.”

Comments: Oooowee, I remember not liking this fic the first time i read it. but as i grew older i realized HOW FUCKING HOT THIS FIC ACTUALLY IS. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. IT WILL MAKE YOU SWEAT!!

12. Racetrack to My Heart by Aquarius Galuxy

— “Ino takes Tenten to a blind date - except it’s not quite blind, and not quite what the latter expects.”

Comments: BRUH THIS FIC WAS HOT AND BRILLIANT. THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY. NEJI AND TENTEN ARE SO FUNNY HERE. YOU WILL NOT REGRET THIS!!!

Tier 3: Autumn — Stories with pain, stories with substance. Stories that have something to say, making our hearts hurt, breaking them. Stories that are subtle, with some sort of comfort in the air. Bittersweet. A lot to take in. Stories that speak to the mind and soul. Stories with words and feelings as vivid as the warm colors of autumn, as the seasons prepare for the occurrence of death, and the winter to come.

tags: drama, hurt/comfort, romance, angst

1. Little Feet Working the Machine by pusa-is-me

— “There is a reason why Team Gai is not sent on seduction missions.”

Comments: This is, I think, the perfect fic to describe this tier. Painful and subtle. Plays with your feelings. Raw & powerful. Again, one of the first few things I ever read about nejiten. still think abt it from time to time.

2. Christmas, 1944 by Giada Luna

— “Not all of the War Efforts were 'Over There.’ Tenten comes home froma long shift at the factory to an empty home, Bing crooning on the radio, and dreams of a Christmas with him back home.”

Comments: sad sad sad. then happy happy happy. cries and smiles. LOVED IT.

3. 13 Unmentionables by pusa-is-me

— “This is not a love story. At least not yet.”

Comments: OH MY GOD. OH MY FUCKING GOD. THIS FIC…. IT BROKE MY HEART, IT TORE ME TO PIECES. SOMETHING ABT IT JUST MAKES ME FUCKING ACHE. MAKES MY HEART THROB. GODDAMN. SO MUCH PAIN. IT’S SO FUCKING RAW.

4. Mindless Perversions of Love and Life by voidforrent

— “There were times when she couldn’t help but wonder why.”

Comments: (we’ve won, but at what cost?) :(

5. Birds by Snowshinobi

— “Birds fill his lungs, his throat, but still, not one reaches his mouth.”

Comments: Okay, okay. Tbh i rlly don’t know how to categorize this fic. did it break my heart? did it make me squeal? but something in my heart told me to categorize it as autumn. pls have fun because this is beautiful.

6. Certain the Journey by NessieGG

— “He made her understand that, to him, her love was absolutely worthless.”

Comments: Omg :(((( okay but this was beautiful as well.

7. fragmented dreams by Seynee

— “She has loved everything about him that hurts.”

Comments: so fucking beautiful. almost perfect. loved it.

8. Stitch my heart back together again by SaturnXK

— “There is nothing I don’t love about you, Tenten,” Neji says softly. And Tenten wants to cry because it isn’t true. There are too many things wrong with her, and Neji is a liar.

Comments: OH MY GOD, this one attacked me right in the heart. it just… please just read it. it’s so pretty.

9. Mine for the Night by syaoran no hime

— “For this whole night, she will close her eyes and pretend that he is hers, his glacial heart and all. For tomorrow, she can never have the same liberty again.”

Comments: AHAHAHAH i remember reading because of this one. this author is just so og and so good :’)

10. Since Spring by NessieGG

— “Neji is driven to the brink of his sanity when his teammate disappears and is given an option. 'I can use a technique that will allow you to forget every memory you have of Tenten.'”

Comments: raw. powerful. ugh. a lot of feelings in this one, wrapped under beautifully written strings.

11. Those Old Feelings Again by Poisoned Scarlet

— “It wasn’t that they weren’t aware of their attraction for one another… it was just that one was good at burying it, and the other was too stubborn to admit it.”

Comments: :( and then :)

12. Bergeron Falls by Goldberry

— “It’s been five days since they’ve seen the sun and everything is water.”

Comments: oh, thank god i recommended a goldberry fic or else i’d never be able to forgive myself. yes this is very beautiful as always :)

13. Lotus by memory’s marionette

— “Even if I now saw you only once, I would long for you through worlds, worlds.“ Because one life is not enough for love, and the past forever bleeds into the future.

Comments: SUCHHHH a beautiful fic. oh my god. i almost want to highlight this and show it to the world because that’s just how good it is. reincarnation done and written perfectly. i love love love this fic~~~

14. Right Before His Eyes by NessieGG

— “There has been a change in Tenten that Neji does not understand. 'You’re leaving the team.'”

Comments: classic nessiegg :)

15. Falling Flight by Toboe Lonewolf

— “When Tenten falls, she falls hard. And right now, she’s falling hard…for him.”

Comments: OKAY, well honestly, I WAS SO EXCITED TO FINALLY RECOMMEND THIS. i know this isn’t drana/angst but it just felt right for me to recommend this under autumn. plsplspls enjoy!!

Tier 4: Winter — The end of the year, the end of an era. Bonds strengthened and broken. Friendships were made. Read as the branches of winter fill up with snow, trees of knowledge that have been through the seasons, preparing to die with everything they have with them. Stories about growing up. Stories about family. The beginning and the end. This is their outcome.

tags: family, hurt/comfort, angst, romance, friendship, fluff. basically all the tags. if you’d notice they’re all growing up fics with exceptions to some but i think you’ll understand :) this tier is more assorted but the feels speak the same

1. She Was There by Ally1313

— “She was there. She was always there.”

Comments: I don’t know why, but something about this fic always makes me want to cry. It has a very special place in my heart. I first read this when I was 12, and I loved it so goddamn much. THIS FIC, IT CHANGED MY LIFE. IT INSPIRED ME TO LOVE NEJITEN MORE THAN EVER. SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ENJOY IT!! OH GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH. WHAT A GREAT WAY TO START OFF WINTER.

2. Chichue by keroRiBBIT

— "I’m nervous,” Neji said. Hizashi smiled at him, “There’s nothing to be nervous about.” “You said that before too.” “Have I ever been wrong?” Neji growing up in Hizashi’s care.

Comments: OH HIZASHI. THIS FIC IS THE CUTEST GODDAMN THING I HAVE EVER READ. LOVE ITTTTT

3. coda in d minor by metaphorically-blue

— “She doesn’t look like her father. /And children can’t recognize grief./”

Comments: this fic has been recommended to be by someone on tumblr before. needless to say, it broke my heart. a short angst break :’)

4. Fate by Silverlight

— “The first date, the first kiss, the first time he asked her to marry him.”

Comments: cute cute cute cute!!

5. 20truths: Neji and Tenten by Cyberwolf

— “The longest conversation the two have in school is when Tenten explains the advantage of titanium shurikens over plain steel ones to Neji, then wishes him luck in the target range.”

Comments: Of course, this winter growing-up-fic collection wouldn’t be complete without a 20truths!!

6. Only You by Byakuxhisa4eva

— “There are very few things he would ever deny her.“ Even at his cruelest, he had always been kind to her.”

Comments: okay, now this one is a classic :)

7. Shadows of the sun by withered

— “Death changes nothing, even when Neji is gone; Tenten is still trying to reach him.”

Comments: another short but necessary angst break :’)

8. A Series of Indecent Proposals by Pleasantries and the Aftermath

— “The first time he kissed her, she slapped him so hard, she left a welt.”

Comments: very very cute. they are just so. goddamn cute. very well written and nice characterization.

9. Drifting by Ariel32

— “They were drifting down a river, and the only thing that mattered was that they were driting together. You can’t help being in love.”

Comments: AAAAAAAAAAAAA this was so pretty!!!

10. Twenty Truths About Team Guy by RennaV

— “Twenty Truths about Team Guy the rest of Konoha doesn’t know. Mostly comedy and focusing on the relationships of the members of Team Guy. It does end kind of sadly. Sorry.”

Comments: OK THIS IS A BIG ONE. A BIGBIGBIG ONE. I REMEMBER reading this and wailing like a little baby. i really cried a lot. this one built up my heart and shattered it to pieces. beautiful.

11. Soul-Marks by fanfictioner22

— “The soulmate!AU Nejiten style.”

Comments: this one was so clever and thoughtful. so goddamn funny and full of substance. LOVED IT.

12. Irresistible by MyFallenAngel

— “The fact that Hyuuga Neji was irresistibly irresistible was undeniable.”

Comments: This was one of the fics I read earlier on, and it was SO CUTE. Everything was just so pure, so undeniably Nejiten. Please, give it a read!

13. Papercranes by Bloody Angels

— “The paper cranes have always been a part of her life and perhaps, they always will be.”

Comments: CAN YOU HEAR IT???!? MY HEART ROSE AND FELL. SO PRETTY. SO BEAUTIFUL!! broke it too. cried like a little bitch.

14. Blind by Midnight Insomniac

— “She is sixteen and in love.”

Comments: HNNNGGG THIS ONE RLLY STRUCK A CHORD IN MY HEART. THIS ONE ALWAYS STANDS OUT TO ME FOR SOME REASON. LOVE IT!!

15. Chance Encounters by Scintazzle

— “That humiliating moment where Tenten grabs the shoulder of a person who she thinks she knows, turns him around, and doesn’t recognize him. At all. And things just go downhill from there.”

Comments: CUTECUTECUTECUTE AAAAA

16. Severing Ties by fanfictioner22

— “Some ties are better severed and Tenten learns it the hard way.”

Comments: angst breakkkkk but it was v beautiful :’)

17. Truth Be Told by MistressofSarcasm

— “Hyuuga Neji falls for Tenten the day she almost broke his nose. Tenten doesn’t think of Hyuuga Neji as boyfriend material until an hour before he confesses.”

Comments: I REMEMBER THIS ONE. IT WAS SO CUTE. I LOVED NEJI AND TENTEN IN THIS. ONE OF MY PERSONAL FAVS :)

18. The Seasons by sotto.voce88

— “Love was never seasonal.”

Comments: v beautiful :)

19. Patchwork by NessieGG

— “When she thought he was sleeping, he saw her get scissors and snip off a section of the yellow sheet beneath their intertwined bodies.”

Comments: I remember always avoiding this fic no matter how much times it popped up on my feed. I remember it was because I was very scared of how heavy this fic would be. I was right. It’s too beautiful for words. I CRIED AGAIN. JESUS I RLLY CRIED WITH THIS ONE. Just really the perfect way to end this tier, please read Patchwork!! (classic nessiegg, always beautiful :(()

Okay, now that concludes my oneshots recommendations!! I get to breathe a little now :)) please read all of them. they really are the best of the best. Now moving on…

THE KONOHA INTERLUDE: OUTSIDE LOOKING IN

nejiten oneshots/ficlets written in the perspective of the konoha 13!! pls enjoy these for they are genius :)

1. The Lost Things by pusa-is-me

— “Where Shikamaru realizes that the Hyuuga Neji does know how to get jealous, and that for all her intelligence, Tenten was pretty oblivious.”

Comments: A little ShikaTen is always cute for me. I love shikamaru and love it when he appears in nejiten fanfictions because he of all people know how oblivious those two are to one another :))

2. No Competition Here by carved in the sand

— “You think your man has anything on mine?”

Comments: Pure crack-ish fluff and humor

3. Replacements by 716799

— “Nothing is ever as good as the real thing. (One day, she will ask him to henge.)”

Comments: o noessss…. but also AN ABSOLUTE MUST-READ. THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE NEJITEN FICS OF ALL TIME. i LOVE THIS SO GODDAMN MUCH AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL AS FUCK NOT TO MENTION GENIUS!!

4. Exchange by Wielder of Paperclips

— “In a short exchange of words, Shikamaru enlightens Tenten. “

Comments: ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVORITES. GOD I THINK ABOUT THIS FIC EVERY DAY. THE DIALOGUE IS SO CUTE AND SHIKA IS THE BEST!!

5. Princess by insert cliche

— “One of the biggest reasons why Uchiha Sasuke hates Hyuuga Neji is also the most unknown.”

Comments: vv cute!! a stoke of genius

6. Bad Dog, No Biscuit by Lotos-Eater

— “Or, Inuzuka Kiba’s Even Longer Day. Kiba is not quite the player he thinks he is. Will there be anyone to appreciate his animal magnetism and rugged charm?”

Comments: KIBA IS A GENIUS. I REALLY REALLY LIKE HIM AND I THINK THAT HE WAS WRITTEN REALLY WELL IN THIS FIC. PLS READ THIS ONE IT’S HILARIOUS.

7. Inner Light by NessieGG

— “She had heard the rumors. But she had never gone so far as to assume that they might be true.”

Comments: OMG. THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL. I really just like anything to do with Sakura. She’s so ugh here you really really feel her. Beautifulll

8. Sempiternal by saccharinely

— “In which she sends the letters left unsent. She needs closure. He gives it to her.”

Comments: A really beautiful SasuTen fic. Somehow it should be triggering but it all makes sense to me :)

HALL OF FAME: FICLETS

a.k.a.: stories that are too long to be oneshots but are too short to be actual fanfics. usually around 2-3 chapters but wouldn’t have been done any better :))

1. On Sex by Lotos-Eater

— “With titles like this, who needs summaries?”

Comments: Really, it seems shallow, but it’s truly one of the best-written, most beautiful and introspective things I have ever read. it really grew on me and I love it so goddamn much!! IM SERIOUS I RLLY LOVE THIS ONE ITS ONE OF MY GO-TOs

2. Goldilocks by a Different Name by Aquarius Galixy

— “Tenten discovers that someone has been living in her apartment when she goes away on long missions.”

Comments: vv cute fic with very witty dialogue :) neji is cute

3. Call Your Manager by Clementive

— “Tenten’s feelings for her English project partner are as complicated as his coffee order.”

Comments: another really cute fic. Tenten is a legend!!

4. Heatwave by Yahboohbeh

— “When she found her breath again it was ragged. Only one thought tore through her mind: Consume me. The Suna sun wasn’t the only reason their faces burned.”

Comments: very very hot n spicy like the title and caption suggesttttS

5. Perchance by KNO

— "Wow, what are the odds we’re both at the same party AGAIN?”

Comments: ONE OF MY FAVORITE NEJITEN FICS OF ALL TIME. i love this one so much. so witty and smart, especially all the expressions and dialogue. Super cute too!!

6. Four Conversations on the Subject of Flight by wildcatt

— “Flying is not as perfect as you imagine it to be, you know. Flying is just falling up.”

Comments: So fucking affecting all the time, I sweat. For some reason I always remember this fic when i think of nejiten :0 PLSPLS READ THIS ONE!!

7. Confessions by Cyberwolf

— “Tenten is trying to tell Neji something. He’s not quite getting it.”

Comments: THIS ONE WAS VERY VERY FUNNY AND CUTE. I LOVE ANYTHING WITH THE KONOHA 13. BRILLIANT!!

8. The Only Alliance by notesonlife

— “A black leather bound sketchbook binds her to him, and breaks her against him.”

Comments: THIS ONE WAS BEAUTIFUL. TRULY A HALL OF FAMER. SO MUCH SUBSTANCE AND ALWAYS STICKS WITH YOU. WRITTEN VERY PRETTILY. PLS READ!!!!!!!!

HALL OF FAME: ONE-SHOT COLLECTIONS

a recommendation panel of the best one-shot collections you will ever find on the site!! as if a single one-shot was enough… :”)

1. Vicissitude by KNO

— “A collection of drabbles and one shots. Neji and TenTen pairing. Contains regular appearances of other characters.”

Comments: THIS. THIS IS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE. EVERY frickn oneshot in here is a gem and i treasure all of them in my heart. genius, too. In here stems a lot of my favorite nejiten oneshots ever. PLEASE GIVE IT A TRY!!

2. The Path to Ashes by notesonlife

— “Neji says it’s their fate. Tenten shows him nothing is secure like that. NejiTen. 017: Naruto’s smirk reached ear to ear. “Next, whoever both gets twelve will kiss.”

3. One shots: Neji and Tenten by I-Heart-Hatake-Kakashi

— “100 Nejiten oneshots. Chapter 100 - Happy Birthday Neji!”

Comments: okay, when in your entire life do you get to say: “I WROTE 100 ONESHOTS FOR NEJITEN” ever???!?!? well, this author can! they actually wrote 100 nejiten oneshots and all of them were so unique and affecting and had this certain continuity to it that left me in tears when I finished.

4. Shades of Konoha: Dragon and Phoenix by Giada Luna

— “Series of oneshots featuring Neji and Tenten. Chapter 32: NejiTen Month 2019: Body/Cursed * They tell him he is born to bound - and he believes them.”

Comments: I have only recently discovered this collection and have been loving it so far. Props to Giada Luna for all the times I smiled bc of these!!

6. Right, Wrong and What Falls Between by Aquarius Galuxy

— “What is, what was, what may have been. (Part 34: Three feet away, Neji continues to read his papers, as if ignorant of what she’s doing.)”

Comments: ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVORITES. God I really love these. There are some real gems in this collection. Genius fics. PLEASE READ THIS ALONG WITH POSTCARDS. THEY ARE BOTH QUITE GENIUS.

7. Untouched by MakeYouSmile

— “Why are you doing this to me?“ Tenten asked quietly. Neji did not give her the pleasure of responding. "After all that’s happened, you’re still standing in the same place.” –A collection of Neji/Tenten shorts.

Comments: A lot of beautifully written Romance/Angst on this one. Really heavy n affecting!!

8. Perks and Pains by keroRiBBIT

— “There are pros and cons in every situation. Most of the time, one just outweighs the other. Ch. 3: A lover with such long hair. Perks: It comes in handy when you desperately want to hold on to something. Pains: It tends to get messy in the morning.”

Comments: SHORT BUT GENIUS. THIS SHIT WAS FUCKING HILARIOUS, TAKE MY WORD ON THIS. THE FIRST CHAPTER ALREADY HAD ME HOOKED. SERIOUSLY IT’S HILARIOUS AND GENIUS AND AURGHHH PLS JUST GO READ IT!!!

9. Careless Whispering by misspandalily

— “17: Neji, Tenten and Lee are fairies who run a catering business together. Mostly AU oneshots.”

Comments: VERY CUTE FIC COLLECTION by one of my closest nt authors!! pls give it a try!!

10. Lotus Blossoms and Other Musings by Yahboohbeh

— “Collection of one-shots. Part 28: Her eyes were nothing like his.”

Comments: Very sweet collection :))

HALL OF FAME: MULTICHAPTERED

okay, okay, i gotta admit, i’m not particularly the strongest in this department. yes, I am quite knowledgeable on nejiten one-shots, but unfortunately i have not read a lot of the longer ones. but the ones here… they’re really good. so with those words, i hope and trust that you will enjoy these :)

1. Manager and Other Side Jobs by Scintazzle

— “Accepting the shady job offer wasn’t really one of her best choices…but discovering she threw up on her future boss was even worse. Tenten’s new relationship brings a whole new meaning to complete and utter servitude.”

Comments: THIS FIC. I have so much feelings with this fic. Scintazzle’s writing is one of the few that I can actually follow through. Very interesting plot and a lot of sexual tension. !!!

2. Eyes Like Pale Thistle by Aquarius Galuxy

— “She crawled beneath his skin and questioned the way he saw life. Perhaps all he’d wanted, really, was a little bit of control.”

Comments: I REALLY REALLY LOVE THIS ONE. Was super hot but had a lot of substance and a lot to say. Had moments of brilliance that I really appreciate!

3. Neji Gaiden by Levi Ackerman

— “Inspired by recent omake - if Neji wants a gaiden, Neji will get a gaiden! This story chronicles Neji’s life with his team starting from their graduation from the Academy. Follows canon with extra details.”

Comments: NEJI GAIDEN! HOLY HOLY SHIT PLEASE READ THIS ONE. DEFINITELY A MUST-READ. Since it follows canon it really gives it more points because IT GETS NEJI AND TENTEN’S CHARACTERIZATION REALLY ON POINT. AND EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE WHICH IS SUPER CUTE. PLEASE OH GOD READ THIS ONE. IT’S QUITE GENIUS AND IS VERY WELL WRITTEN. the author really knows the characters she’s writing about and UGHHH JUST PLEASE. It’s a shame it isn’t finished tho, but otherwise IT’S WORTH IT!!

4. like paper dolls and little notes by Seynee

— ”It’s not that Tenten hates flying. In fact, she kind of likes it. Especially when she gets free cocktails. Especially when she’s sitting next to a handsome stranger. Especially when she gets to talk to him. This is going to be good.”

Comments: nawwww this one was a classic. really hesitant to finish this before but the ending is totally worth it. made me cryy :”)

5. The Fat and Pretty of Art School by Paper Lanterns and Yoghurt

— “We’ll laugh and we’ll sing (poorly) but whatever happens we’re in it together babe.”

Comments: OMG. I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. BASICALLY THE ULTIMATE HEADCANON TO THE NEJITEN HIJINKS. It’s super super cute and the characters are really on-point. had some really funny and endearing moments too. love Tenten’s friendship with shika and sasuke here. SUPER COOL YOU FEEL LIKE A COOL KID WHILE READING THIS.

6. Rapunzel by wildcatt

— “And she leads the blind prince home.”

Comments: It is quite short, but it is REALLY REALLY BEAUTIFUL. I WAS SOBBING, COMPLETELY IN TEARS during mass as I read this fic. Everything is written with so much heart and pain. pls give this one a try.

6. Complexities of Blackmail by Aquarius Galuxy

— “[Everything in the world is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.] Lieutenant Tenten finds herself caught in a web of blackmail when Lt Hyuuga Neji stumbles upon her doing what she shouldn’t have been. Mere rivalry between old teammates turns into something deeper, much to Tenten’s horror and bewilderment.”

Comments: Ohhhh, blackmail, blackmail, blackmail. Of course. This is the god of all nejiten fics. It’s so fucking beautiful. Every time I go back to this in every chapter is just something so beautiful and bewildering it warms my heart. DEFINITELY A MUST-READ. Blackmail just sticks. Left me as a sobbing mess at the end. Very raw and very powerful.

7. Crossing the Middle Line by Scintazzle

— “You know you’re screwed when your ex-girlfriend becomes your new secretary…and you’re falling in love with her all over again.”

Comments: OH MY GOd this FIC THIS FUCKING FIC. very hot. sweet n spicy. short and cute. quite hilarious at times. loved it!!

8. Right Kind of Wrong by Nokito-chan

— “She yanked him out of his comfort zone. He made her want things she tried to guard against. Somewhere in the middle … hell broke loose.”

Comments: OMG. THIS FIC WAS EVERYTHING. super hot as well and was a really fun time. tenten’s bond with konohamaru was really sweet :)

9. The Twelve Days of Christmas by Giada Luna

— A quirk of fate turns Tenten into a modern day Snow White and tosses her into the lives of the Huyga-Uzumaki family right at Christmas. However, she has her own problems, and not time for 'Prince Not-So-Charming’ or anything else to get in her way.”

Comments: a very cute and light read that is perfect for the seasons! giada is such a talented writer; her words flow and make sense. everything is as it should be :)

10. Scars and Stitches by pusa-is-me

— “A love triangle of Gai-stronomic proportions.”

Comments: THIS. THIS. I hate this fic. I love it to death. So much conflicting emotions here, but left me at tears as always. Really just one of the best nejiten fics i’ve ever read out there, and the perfect last recommendation. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. WHAT A WAY TO END THIS CHAPTER

CLOSING REMARKS

So that concludes my masterlist! What do you think? It was a long-term project I started in march? and have finally finished in time for the holidays!

I’m 100% sure that there are some brilliant fics I missed along the way, and I apologise if I haven’t added them. Please give me more recommendations so I may add them. And Please treasure all these fics as I have.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! I hope these keep you covered for the rest of your breaks :)

Pls also check out the authors here on tumblr for they are still active :)

AUTHOR TAG:

@iridescentirises @aquariusgaluxy @misspandalily @giada-luna @fanfictioner22 @zealousheart

#nejiten #nejixtenten #tentenxneji #neji #hyuga #tenten #neji tenten #I SPENT SO MUCH TIME THINKING ABOUT THESE

373 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 5 years

Text

Lover - Daryl Dixon

A/N: A Companion piece to Small Talk. For @ohmagawd-life

My heart’s been borrowed and your’s has been blue, all’s well that ends well to end up with you. - Lover, Taylor Swift

\\\

The Atlanta Camp

“It’s just the underneath bit.” You explained, holding out the razor for Daryl to take.

He looked skeptically between you and the blade, “Carol’s got short hair, ask her to cut it.”

You bit the inside of you lip nervously, trying to figure out how best to word what you wanted to say. In hindsight you’d only know Daryl a handful of weeks, if you really counted up the time since he and his brother arrived at camp. And in that amount of time you’d spoken to him maybe twice. Both times just asking a question about something menial and having him answer instead of Shane. “I like Carol a lot,” you began, inwardly cringing, “I just trust you more.”

“Ya trust me?” Daryl seemed surprised. “Ya don’t me from Adam.”

True. You knew only a handful of things about him and not enough to fully trust him not to slice your neck open but the undercut you’d gotten just before finding out the world was ending was growing out and bothering you every time you swiped your hand over it.

Besides, in all honest, ever since he and his brother had joined up with the camp you’d been trying to think of a good reason to talk to him. Sitting on the RV and watching him all day was starting to make you feel like a creep but every time you even thought about going over and chatting him up you felt your whole body go into shock. But Lori had given you her razor upon request and you decided it was now or never. Out of everyone here you would bet he had the steadiest hand and he didn’t seem homicidal.

“Will you shave it for me or not?” You stretched your hand further, waving the razor for him to take.

Daryl reached up, snatching it out of your hand and motioning for you to sit in front of him on the log he was occupying. He and his brother had set up camp with the rest of you but had kept themselves at a short distance, a way of saying they didn’t want to be part of whatever Kumbaya circle Shane was trying to coerce. You settled on to the log in front of him, your thighs brushing against his knees. He held his hand out and when you didn’t move his tapped your side.

“What?”

“Got a hair tie?”

“Right.” You nodded, getting flustered all of the sudden, “sure.” Well, not all of the sudden, you felt flustered around Daryl on a daily basis.

Daryl held the handle of the razor in his mouth while his hands gathered up your hair, combing through it and scratching just slightly at your scalp. When you were younger your mom used to do your hair all the time and it was something you missed dearly, the feeling of someone playing with your hair. He pushed on the back of your neck gently to get you to lean forward and then took the water bottle from his side, wetting his hand before running it over the short hairs that had grown in on your undercut.

“Oh, hold on!” You grabbed at the the hem of your shirt, pulling it off and laying it on the log in front of you. “There.”

It was only your back but Daryl’s whole face turned red, eyes wandering down the expanse of skin now on display to him. In his head he could hear Merle sharing some choice words about seeing you without a top on, even if the sports bra you were wearing covered everything.

“I don’t wanna get hair on my shirt...I hate when it pricks you.”

“Why’d ya cut yer hair like this?” He asked, the first gradual swipe of the razor tickling the nape of your neck. You bit your lip to keep from jerking at the action.

“Dunno.” You shrugged, “saw it on Pinterest and thought it was cute.”

“What’s that?”

“Pinterest?”

He hummed a yes.

“It’s like an app for people to post a bunch of crafty stuff...although if you go far enough down the Pinterest rabbit hole you can find porn too.” You laughed.

“Ya use it for that?” Daryl asked, face a bit flush though you couldn’t see it. Merle had told him once that any girl who admitted to liking porn was automatically a slut but he’d really never thought of you that way, you always seemed a little naive. Maybe even innocent was the word he wanted. Though the argument could be had that he didn’t know you all that well. Watching you half patrol/half sunbathe on Dale’s RV every day wasn’t exactly getting to know you.

“Sometimes,” you shrugged. “Mostly just classroom ideas, homemade soaps and shit, and the odd cookie recipe. Too bad we’re out here, I could’ve baked you something.”

“For what?” He asked. “I ain’t done anything.”

“Well that’s not true. Nobody else might admit it, too busy kissing Shane’s ass, but we’d surely have starved without you.”

Daryl hummed but didn’t reply. You couldn’t see it but his cheeks were red with embarrassment at being complimented.

“Guess I shouldn’t leave Merle out huh?” You asked. When you turned you head to look at Daryl he caught it, guiding you back to face forward and tapping the razor against the base of your neck.

“Won’t tell ‘em.” He promised, “now stay there or I’ll be slicing ya.”

“Sorry.”

Another swipe of the blade and you felt his free hand against your shoulder, thumb rubbing over a particularly sore muscle. “Ya got a knot here.” He mentioned, changing the subject for the sake of not saying something to embarrass himself.

“I think I pulled it when I was on that run with Glenn.” You explained. He knew which run you were talking about, it was a wonder you hadn’t dislocated your shoulder or worse. Both of you had been caught off guard by a closet you didn’t think to check and you’d almost had a bite taken out of you. “Hey, thanks again for doing this.”

“Didn’t give me much of a choice.” Daryl commented though he wouldn’t have refused.

“Well, I trust you the most to have a steady hand.” You explained. “Plus we haven’t really hung out with each other yet.”

“Not really the ‘hanging out’ type.” Daryl replied. “Ain’t gonna braid yer hair and gossip about shit.”

You smiled as you felt him brush the stray hairs off your neck and shoulders, blowing on your skin and raising goosebumps. “I don’t know,” you mused, “I’m having a pretty good time right now.”

“Ya want this back?” Daryl asked, holding out the razor for you and ignoring your comment.

“Yeah, Lori wanted to use it when I was done.” You took the razor back and slipped into your pocket, “something about shaving her legs.”

You hadn’t pulled your shirt back on yet and, in the interest of keeping you here just a tiny bit longer, Daryl ran his hand over the sore part of your shoulder again. “I can get rid a the knot if ya want?” The phrasing sounded awkward, he wasn’t quite sure how to ask if you would stay and if he could touch you and if you would spend more time with him.

“Okay,” you nodded, adjusting the way you were sitting so you were just a little closer to him. You closed your eyes, trying to take calming breathes that didn’t make you sound like you were having a panic attack as you felt his hands on you. His were definitely the hands of someone who did manual labour for a living. Hunting, working on cars, everything he seemed to be good at revolved around using his hands and you were definitely adding massages to the list. He knew how to work out a knot.

Daryl’s hands traveled away from the spot eventually, easing across your upper back and down to the base of your spine where a particularly painful muscle had you unable to sleep. He’d noticed you a couple times, sitting outside on the picnic bench while everyone was asleep. He’d been on watch the first night when you crept out of your tent.

“Is there a knot there?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

He pressed his fingers against the soft bit of extra fat that cling to your hips. Apocalypse be damned, you still couldn’t shake all the weight. “Right here.” He nodded.

“I was worried it was my sciatica or something serious.” You replied, ever the hypochondriac.

“It’s just a knot.”

“I can feel it all the way down my leg sometimes.”

Without thinking, cause if he had he would be horrified, Daryl slid his hand down from your back, brushing along the back of your thigh. “Down here?”

“Yeah, that’d be it.” You nodded, heat rising to your face.

“Might be a muscle ya pulled, same as yer shoulder.” He shrugged, hand returning to your back as he started kneading the flesh there. He could feel his left hand cramping but he ignored it, hesitant to give up the opportunity just to be this close to you. He could feel the warmth and softness of your skin beneath his hands and if he stopped now he was afraid he’d never get this chance again.

Hershel’s Farm

“All the houses had paths to the street, but the last house in the row had a path obviously more trampled than the others-“

“Ya know I can read right?” Daryl asked, sitting up a little more in the bed Hershel had given him for the night.

When Shane and Rick has half carried him into the farmhouse it had taken everything in you not to shove that stupid rifle down Andrea’s throat. To keep yourself from having a possible breakdown you’d offered to help Hershel in whatever way you could. And now that he was awake and eating you had continued to play nurse to Daryl, reading to him from one of Dale’s books while you both had dinner.

“I don’t know that.” You replied, smiling when he swatted at you. “Stop!”

“Don’t be smart with me, I almost died.”

“Thought you said it was nothing.” You mocked the southern twang of his voice as you spoke.

“It was,” he grinned, “till I shot myself with an arrow and Andrea tried ta kill me.”

“It’s her community service for the month.” You teased, laughing when he swatted you again. “Stop hitting me Dixon.” You crawled down the bed till you were as far away as possible.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Cause, come ‘ere.” He waved you towards him and you shook your head.

“What do you want?”

“I want ya ta come ‘ere.”

You stood up on the mattress, careful of stepping the wrong way and falling on him. You had once, at the CDC, you nabbed one of the bottles of jack and taken it to Daryl’s room in an attempt to spend some time with him. He was a hard person to read and you could practically feel him shutting down after Merle went missing, presumably dead.

Jacqui and Andrea has both told you that you were being desperate but you’d been trying to get Daryl to talk to you for weeks and you’d be damned if all that progress was going to be lost over Merle.

Once you were close enough to him that he could reach you Daryl grabbed your ankle, pulling you down, almost onto his lap.

“How many pain killers did Hershel give you?” You asked, smiling. You ran your fingers just below the gauze on his head, brushing some short pieces of hair behind his ear.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re being awfully sweet to me. Usually I gotta work hard for this much affection.” You commented.

“Sorry about that.” Daryl replied, unsure what else to say at the confession. He wasn’t an easy person to put up with and he knew it.

“That’s okay, it’s worth it.” You replied, kissing him on the bridge of his nose.

“What were ya reading anyway?”

“The Bourne Identity. My dad used to watch the movies all the time, he was quite the Matt Damon fan.”

Daryl tried to lean forward, groaning at the shock of pain that went through his side from stretching. You followed the stretch of his arm and crawled down the bed enough to reach the book you had been reading earlier.

“You’re gonna let me read to you?” You asked, smiling at him.

“Beats laying here alone.” Daryl shrugged, easing back to lay down.

“Ya know,” you started, leaning close to him again, “It’s good what you’re doing, for Carol. Trying to find Sophia.”

“Shane and Rick are doing the same.” He shrugged.

“No.” You shook your head and leaned even closer, pressing a kiss to his lips, “it’s more than that Daryl, you’re a good man.”

“Yer just saying that cause I’m letting ya read.”

You smiled, “is it working?”

“Read yer book.” He replied, face flushed red.

“It belonged to an Englishman who had come to Port Noir eight years before under circumstances no one understood or cared to; he was a doctor and the waterfront had need of a doctor-“

The Prison

“I feel like everyone is coupling up,” Karen mentioned, wiping sweat off her forehead as she stood at the fence with you and Sasha. “I mean, I’ve seen the way that new guy looks at you.”

“Who?” Sasha asked, “Bob?”

“Yeah. And your brother has been laying it on pretty thick lately.” Karen looked over at you as you stepped back from the fence, “you’re the only one besides Carol that doesn’t have someone trying to chase your skirt.”

“Her?” Sasha laughed, “she’s with Daryl.”

“I’m not with Daryl.” You laughed, “we’re just-“

“Your just always together. And you take the same night watches and you share a cell and so help anyone who tries to hold your attention when he’s even in eyesight because your mind is wandering.” Sasha laughed, “you’re doing it right now.”

“I am not!”

“Oh really, what are you thinking about?”

You felt your face heat up at her question and shook your head, “nothing.”

“Wait, wait, you and Dixon? Really?” Karen asked, eyes wide at the information. “How did I not know about this?”

“They try to keep it hush hush.” Sasha replied, “I had my suspicions and then I caught them in one of the empty corridors together.” She grinned and bumped your hip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, biting your lip to hide a smile.

Before Karen could reply your name was called. All three of you turned your heads to see Daryl standing there on the jail side of the fence. Sasha nudged you, knowing grin in place as you walked over to where he was standing, out of earshot from the two.

“Hey.”

“Yer on watch with me tonight.” Daryl said, glancing over your shoulder to where Sasha and Karen were watching you. “What’s with them?”

“Sasha told Karen we’re together.” You mentioned, looking back at them briefly.

Daryl was quiet for a minute, looking back to you and chewing anxiously on his thumb. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about Sasha telling people you were together, if that’s even what you were. He really wasn’t good at things like relationships.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Your fingers curled around the fence chain and Daryl brushed his knuckles against yours, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

“Yeah, see ya tonight.”

Alexandria

The shower curtain was pushed aside and you looked over, smiling as you stepped out from beneath the spray of warm water so that Daryl could fit in. The small bathroom in the basement had all the necessities required though the shower stall was the size of one that you might find in a locker room, hardly big enough for two.

Once he was in the shower the curtain was pulled shut again and before he could say anything you spit a mouthful of water at the wall just behind his head. “Would ya quit doing that.” He grumbled. He leaned back under the spray of water, ignoring your laughter.

“Lighten up.” You teased. As you reached passed him to grab the shampoo off the hanging shelf you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Before you could step away from him Daryl had his arm around you waist and he guiding you away from the water, toward the tiled wall behind you. “No! Daryl!” You squealed. Despite the warmth of the shower the tiles remained ice cold, especially when the temperature dropped like it had tonight. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but it was futile and in no time at all your bare back was pressed against the cold tile of the shower stall. “Oh my god it’s freezing! You jerk!”

“That’s what ya get, spitting at me all the time.” He shrugged. Daryl let you go, stepping back again and grinning as you crowded into his space, trying to regain some warmth after the cold shock.

“And here I was gonna be nice and wash your hair for you.” At the mention of the task Daryl grimaced and tried to get a look at the shampoo that had fallen to the ground in the scuffle.

“I don’t want any a that floral shit Tara brought back.” He replied.

Just last week he’d used the shampoo Tara found on a run. It’d been the only thing available but it smelled like vanilla and peonies and Daryl had bitched about the scent attracting bugs until you washed his hair out using the backyard hose and a bar of soap.

“Ya wouldn’t be laughing if ya was getting bit by green flies all day.” He’d grumbled when you had teased him over the ordeal.

Today, when he brought it up, you only rolled your eyes. “It’s not floral. Promise.” With a hand on his hip keep you steady you squatted down on the shower floor and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. A briefly precarious position, you left a kiss on his hip, just by your hand, before standing up and waving the bottle at him.

“Fine.”

“I said I’m not doing it anymore cause you were mean to me, remember? You gotta wash your own hair.” You pointed out.

If there was anything unexpected to be learned about Daryl it was that he liked when other people, or just you, the theory hadn’t been tested, washed his hair. He liked the feeling of your short nails scratching gently against his scalp as you massaged shampoo in to it and he even liked when you insisted on brushing his hair, though he enjoyed fighting you on it.

“Fine,” Daryl replied but when he reached for the shampoo you held it away from him. He rolled his eyes, you were full of empty threats. It was once a day you would tell him something in mock seriousness only to take it back moments later.

“Turn around.” You motioned spinning with your finger as if he needed the direction.

There was a long pause after he turned around and stepped back from the spray, crowding your space in the shower stall. Daryl turned just enough to see you, giving your thigh a light slap to get your attention. “We don’t got all night.”

“Sorry,” you met his eyes and smiled, “I was admiring the view.”

Daryl turned back around without a word, glad the water was so warm cause it made the red of his cheeks indiscernible from warmth to embarrassment. It wasn’t the first time you’d casually offered a compliment to him but he still got just as flustered. He felt you kiss the base of his neck and then you were running your hands through his hair, lathering shampoo on.

“Have you ever had lice?” You asked.

“Why?”

“I used to work in a school, kids used to get lice all the time. Just thought about it, don’t know why.” You shrugged. Sometimes little things like washing hair or reading a book reminded you of the life you led before this.

“Nah, ya gotta have clean hair for that.”

“Makes sense...pretty sure you’re allergic to soap.” You mused.

“I’m in the shower ain’t I?”

“Cause you wanna wash off or cause I’m in here and I’m naked?”

He turned fully, grinning as he stepped into the water and tilted his head to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He’d be perfectly fine out there in the woods, no fancy shit like showers and stoves and beds, but he also liked the attention you paid him far more than he’d care to admit. He didn’t care if it was here or sitting on the porch fully clothed, any attention he got from you was eagerly accepted.

“I’m good enough ta put up with ya.” Daryl replied. “With yer constant talkin’ and pestering me.”

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer so that you could kiss him. His hands went to your waist, keeping you steady on the wet tiles while he kissed you back. He was never really one for things like that before. Probably could have gone his whole life not kissing anybody. There was something entirely infectious about you though and Daryl had trouble going a whole day without at least one kiss.

He would settle for a kiss placed on his forehead or cheek when everyone else was around and you didn’t want to draw too much attention to the affection you had for him. But he was particularly fond of moments like this, when you were alone together.

“I love you too.” You finally replied, one more kiss and then you pulled away, “guess we should get out of the shower?”

Daryl hummed, turning to switch off the water as you stepped out of the small bathroom. The towels had been leftover from whoever originally intended on living in this house, mismatched beach towels in the basement while all the other bathrooms were coordinated. You didn’t mind, happy to be sequestered in the basement with Daryl instead of up on the second floor with Rick, Michonne, Carl, Judith, and Carol. Besides, you could deny that you enjoyed watching Daryl dry off with a fluffy striped towel meant to look like watermelon.

All the amenities still felt odd. Just the feel of warm water was something you weren’t used to. You wrapped your towel around yourself and hopped up to sit on the counter, watching as Daryl dried off.

“Hey,” you smiled when he looked over at you, pulling the towel off his head. “Come here.” You extended your leg, your foot brushing against his thigh.

“What?” He asked, “I’m getting dressed.”

“Come here.” You insisted.

He moved away from you, grabbing the pair of sweatpants that were hanging on the back of the door and pulling them on. Both of you had a habit of cluttering the hooks on the bathroom door with your pyjamas. He took your shorts and camisole down and tossed them to you, though you made no move to put them on. Still waiting for him to pay attention to you.

“Daryl,” you whined slightly, leaning forward so you could still see him from your place on the bathroom counter.

“What?” He stopped what he was doing, turning away from the bed he was clearing off to look at you.

“Come here.” You repeated.

“Why?” He asked, “what da ya want?”

“You. To come here.”

Daryl crosses the room into the bathroom and when he’s close enough you stretch your leg out again, hooking it around the back on his thigh and pulling him in. Once he’s up against the counter, in between your legs, you reach up, hands grasping his face and bringing him into another kiss. Not as sweet as the last one though just as loving. His hands slipped beneath the towel that was still wrapped around you, calloused fingers running over smooth skin as he pulled you closer to him.

When Rick was handing out room assignments in the two houses Daryl had requested the basement. At first you felt a bit conflicted about sleeping in a basement but as time in Alexandria passed you’d grown to appreciate the space. Once the basement door was close you felt almost like you were in your own little world, a feeling you’d been trying to grasp since you lost it after Hershel’s farm. It was a place just for the two of you without watchful eyes trying to gauge exactly what you were to each other.

“Hey, if I tell you a secret will you promise not to laugh at me?” You asked, brushing wet hair out of his eyes. Your voice was quiet as if someone might hear you. The thought was one you’d had for so long you could barely remember when you’d first started to think it, something deeper than love, more profound, something you had trouble grasping as a concept with words though you could feel it every time he was near you. Though you knew she didn’t mean it in a romantic sense, wasn’t it Emily Bronte who said ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’

He nodded, no quip at your expense to safeguard himself. Daryl wasn’t always good at picking up on other people’s emotions but he knew you weren’t joking around with him.

“I’ve been thinking about it, how to say it without feeling silly,” you held one of his hands in yours, running your thumb along the inside of his wrist in hopes of keeping your calm. As if his heartbeat was yours. “Sometimes I think, I’m glad that this happened, that you and Merle found our camp in Atlanta. Cause I think we’re-“ you trailed off, trying to find the words to it.

You closed your eyes when you felt Daryl kiss your forehead. “I know.” He replied. And you smiled, of course he knew. Why wouldn’t he? Hadn’t you been fashioned from his rib and he from yours, made for each other by some divine force? “Come on, I’m heading out with Aaron in the morning.”

“Okay.” You let him lead you to bed, forgoing the usual process of putting on pyjamas and simply climbing beneath the covers with him. You situated yourself just so, able to hear his heart beat beneath your ear, a dull thump in time with your own and you moved just enough to lay a kiss to his bare chest.

Just an excuse to write some cute Daryl fluff.

Taglist: : @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee @queenmissfit@marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @medievalfangirl @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cbarter@onemorebeautifulnightmare @born-in-19-96 @mainokutan @uh-i-think-its-frank @nikki082489 @qrangr @darkprincess1128-blog @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @angelophany @of-storms-and-sadness @chocolatealmondmillk @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist] @sabertooth-potato @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @meziah-48 @dietspriteaddict @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfiction #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

773 notes · View notes