#hm... many of my characters keep people at arm's length... this is... something I will ponder over later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fairy-writes · 3 years ago

Note

Can i request Vanitas and Dazai and Chuuya with a reader that confesses to them, but attempts to leave right after because she'd convinced herself he wouldn't feel the same? (He does though, it could also be GN if you don't wanna write for a female reader.)

UNREQUITED

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Requester: Anonymous

Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Vanitas x Reader

Dazai Osamu x Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Genre(s): Fluff, mild angst

Request: Can I request Vanitas, Dazai, and Chuuya with a reader who confesses to them but attempts to leave right after because she'd convinced herself he wouldn't feel the same? (He does, though, it could also be GN if you don't want to write for a female reader.)

Hello lovely! This was definitely a challenge, haha. Dazai and Vanitas are such complicated and complex characters, and I love them dearly! (Chuuya too, he’s my favorite BSD character atm). Also! I’ll keep this GN since I try to include as many people in my writing as possible :) I hope you enjoy!

*warning for possible OOC-ness cause I’m rubbish at fluff*

BUCKLE UP CAUSE THIS IS A LONG BOY

__________________________________________________________________________

Vanitas:

Confessing is an accident, really.

You, Vanitas, Noé, and Murr are all on the train, traveling towards your destination where Dante said a vampire needed help.

You can’t get the thought that you need to confess to him before it’s too late.

You had heard about the whole situation with Vanitas and Jeanne during their trip to defeat the Beast of Gévaudan. You knew she liked him.

Jealously was quickly stamped down. You couldn’t afford to get jealous, not at a time like this.

Plus, if it came down to a fight for his affection, Jeanne would most certainly win.

If Vanitas had any feelings towards any of you, that is.

You seriously doubted he did. Towards you, at least. Towards Jeanne? It was no doubt. She was strong, fearless, selfless, driven, everything you felt you weren’t.

You were just a simple human doctor who helped patch up Vanitas and Noé when they were reckless and stupid.

Vanitas hadn’t even wanted you around in the first place. Noé had to convince him to bring you along when you had initially patched them up after finding them bleeding out in an alleyway.

Part of you wanted to believe he was your friend now, but he still kept you at arm's length, never speaking to you unless he absolutely had to.

“Vanitas?” This was it.

You were doing it.

You were going to confess.

You had to.

“Hm?” He didn’t even look at you from his spot by the window. Noé was passed out with Murr curled on his lap.

“Can I tell you something?” You asked, and he finally glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow in question. He didn’t say anything.

You take a deep breath and blurt out what you have been keeping inside for so long.

“I like you!”

The silence is deafening, and you regret it immediately.

Vanitas is staring at you, face unreadable, those blue eyes unblinking.

You stand and step out of the compartment of your train car, muttering something about having to use the restroom.

What a fool you were! Of course, he wouldn’t like you back!

You promptly locked yourself in the bathroom and sat on the toilet to cry.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s occupied.” You called out, hoping to discourage any unwanted visitors.

“I figured, can you come out?”

Crap.

Vanitas.

You hastily stand and brush off the seat of your trousers to open the door. Not all the way, just enough to peek out at the young man.

He is refusing to look at you again, but you can see the faint pink beginnings of blush high on his cheekbones. Is he embarrassed? But why?

You open the door slightly more, and he finally looks you square in the eye.

“Why are you here?” You croak, voice hoarse from crying.

Vanitas rubs at the back of his neck and stares down at his toes, his other hand coming to cover his mouth as he mumbles something.

“What?” You can’t quite hear him. His blush only deepens, and he hunches his shoulders slightly. Luckily the train hallway is empty, leaving the two of you alone outside the restrooms.

Less than ideal.

“I like you back.” He finally spits it out, hand moving away from his face, and you hesitate, frowning.

Surely he was lying.

He didn’t mean it did he?

“Did Noé put you up to this? Why would you like me?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Vanitas cringes but shakes his head.

“He didn’t put me up to it. So I came here myself.”

“Why?” Part of you is hurt. He was known for being a jokester but lying to you like this? This was going too far.

You tell him as much, and he grimaces,

“I genuinely like you. That’s why I came here. To talk to you about it.” He said curtly, keeping his tone clipped but not unkind. It was odd for him. Was he sick?

Vanitas notices the look on your face and sighs,

“Would I lie about this?” He asks, and you shrug,

“I don’t know, would you? You lie about a lot of other things.” You say and notice his expression fall. Your heart hurts, but you have to be sure. You have to be sure he isn’t lying and that he genuinely means it.

Vanitas reaches forward and takes ahold of your hand, bringing it up to press a gentle kiss to the knuckles.

“I promise I’m not lying about this.”

If Noé notices you holding hands when you return to your seats, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply looks out the moving train window with a smile.

Dazai Osamu:

It’s after a day at the ADA when you decide to confess.

The office is empty. You had asked Dazai to stay after for a few moments so you could talk in private.

He stands in front of you, hands in his pockets, curly hair rustling in the slight breeze from the open window.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked, and you fidgeted, playing with the hem of your shirt and staring at your feet.

Were you ready for this?

Were you ready to confess?

You found yourself talking before you could stop yourself.

“I really like you, Dazai, like a lot. I—”

“I know.” He cut you off with a simple phrase. You kept your eyes averted. He knew? But you had been so secretive!

“Y—you know? How?” You stammer, and he shrugs, looking nonchalant as always.

“You were pretty obvious. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I was wondering when you'd gather the courage to tell me.” He says so calmly, and you freeze. So he knew this whole time and never said anything?

Anger began to bubble deep in your belly. He knew. He let you stew in your embarrassment, and Never. Said. Anything

Abruptly you turned and fled.

It was obvious Dazai didn’t feel the same way.

What hurt the most was that he didn’t chase after you. Leaving you and your broken heart in pieces.

You trudge to the ADA for work the next day, dreading seeing the man of your broken affection. But, you had to show up for work, or Kunikida would break down your door and drag you there himself.

You could be professional, right? Right, you had to be. You were an adult.

No one is there when you arrive, save for Fukuzawa in his office.

This was how it usually went.

You were always punctual and the first one to the office building.

As opposed to Dazai, who was always late if he showed up at all.

But surprisingly, there was someone else at their desk when you arrived. You recognized that head of curly brown hair and that trench coat anywhere.

It was Dazai.

What was he doing here? Weren’t you JUST musing about how he was always late?

Uh oh.

He spotted you.

Dazai stood and made his way over to you. You, in return, spun on your heel and hurried back towards the door.

You could skip work today, call in sick, or something. Kunikida would have to deal with it.

Your key fumbled in the lock, and you cursed. You could hear Dazai’s dress shoes clacking closer and closer across the hardwood floor.

He grabs your shoulder and spins you around, tilting your chin with a thumb and forefinger and making you stare him in the face. You couldn’t escape now, not with your back backed up against the door.

He leans in close. Just what was he doing? Was he going to—no, he wouldn’t do that. Right?

Your noses brush, and suddenly, it becomes all too real. He was too close.

You try and push him away, but it’s like trying to push an iron wall.

“You never let me reply yesterday.” He says softly, almost too softly. Why was he being so gentle? He was never this careful, at least not when it didn’t matter.

“I—” You can’t even get a sentence out, nervous about having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face and smell the mint of his toothpaste, cologne, and natural musk.

He leans even closer, and your noses brush, even more, lips a hairsbreadth away from touching.

Was this really happening?

Did you want this?

You barely had to think about that question. But, of course, you did. You had been fantasizing about this since you met Dazai all those years ago when he first joined the ADA.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you drop your work bag and cradle Dazai’s jawline, pressing forward in a featherlight kiss.

Chuuya Nakahara:

You confess over a drink.

The two of you are in Chuuya’s apartment after a long day of Port Mafia assignments. Just chatting amongst friends after work. This usually happened on Fridays and Saturdays after work, and the two of you would just catch up.

You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine to gather the courage to talk to him about your feelings, something you have put off for literal years.

You had initially joined the Port Mafia when Chuuya had, following him out of the Sheep’s grasp and into the Mafia’s. You quickly rose through the ranks and became something of a secretary for Mori, given your ability to quickly absorb large quantities of information and also handle Elise easily.

ANYWAY, I’m getting off track

You have a couple of drinks of wine since wine is all Chuuya really has in his alcohol cabinet.

He doesn’t like tequila, whiskey is forbidden from being talked about in his household, and vodka is straight nasty to him.

Chuuya isn’t entirely wasted yet (he’s a lightweight according to his wiki), but he’s getting close, so you gotta do it quick.

“Chuuya?”

“Ha?”

You blurt out a hasty “I love you.” and very nearly leave right then and there.

Chuuya looks at you through his lashes, a flush high on his cheeks from the alcohol, and bursts out laughing.

“You really are wasted, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks are burning as you stand to leave, thoroughly embarrassed. You ignore his calls of your name as you grab your work bag and coat and begin to head towards the front door.

Why would he feel the same?

Chuuya was a workaholic through and through and would probably marry his work if he could.

Tears fill your eyes, making your vision watery and hard to see as you start to lace up your shoes in the genkan of his apartment. You needed to get out of there soon before you broke down completely.

A hand grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet, spinning you around effortlessly, and you come face to face with Chuuya, hat askew, and the top few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned.

He’s still flushed a pretty pink, but it’s more pronounced now, and you realize he’s blushing from embarrassment.

Embarrassment from what? Your confession?

The very thought makes a stab at your heart. But, of course, he would be embarrassed. You two had been friends for nearly a decade, and here you were ruining it.

He probably pitied you.

That thought made you angry.

No, you wouldn’t be pitied. You built your career by yourself. You could get by without him!

Quickly pulling your arm from his grasp, you turned to leave once again.

But this time, his hand caught yours, almost surprisingly gently, given he was intoxicated.

“Don’t leave.” He said quietly, pulling you up and out of the genkan, so you stood toe to toe with him, not caring that you had your outdoor shoes on and was getting his rug dirty.

“Did you mean it?” He asks, and you pause,

“That I loved you?” He nods, uncharacteristically silent.

A few moments of silence go by before you gently pull your hand out of his,

“I have to go.” You say softly, but he cuts off whatever you were going to say next,

“Can I kiss you?”

Wait.

What?

He noticed your brain stalling and repeated his question, then repeated it a third time (this time a bit more flustered) when you still didn’t respond.

Eventually, you come around, and your ears begin to burn. You feel like steam is coming out of your ears.

You stammer and stutter for what seems like an embarrassing amount of time before you eventually stutter out a hesitant “Yes?”

His face changes, and he asks if you're sure, that he doesn’t want to push you, that he—

This time you interrupt him with a bold leap of courage and press a kiss to his cheek.

Now you’re both embarrassed and flustered, but it’s admittedly entertaining that he’s the one flushed pink. Whether it’s from emotions or alcohol, you can’t tell.

Perhaps it’s both.

“Can I take you out for dinner?” He blurts, and you frown, embarrassment forgotten.

“Chuuya, it’s like 11 PM.” He grabs your hand and grins that trademark grin of his,

“I know a great place a few minutes from here by motorcycle. What do you say?” He asks, and now you smile, heart fluttering,

“I’d love that.”

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Text

Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

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andreafmn · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 5

xWord Count: 3,374

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 5/?

A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

<- Previous | Next ->

Chapter 5

I woke up to a heavy and warm wight around my waist. As my mind started registering the scene around me, I noticed the soft snores that were filling the room, the strong smell of cologne, the rough skin encircling me, the chest in front of me that raised and fell at a slow pace. At some point during the night, Derek must have crawled into bed, and I couldn’t say that I minded.

He looked peaceful when he slept. No supernatural problems, no feuds, no hunters, just peace. My hand unconsciously landed on his cheek, softly stroking his cheek. Still succumbed to slumber, he leaned into the touch, nuzzling his head onto my hand like a puppy. I wish this could be the way it always was, but now that I knew the reality of the world we were in, there was no chance it would ever stay this way.

Deciding to let him sleep longer, I tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen where breakfast had already been prepared. I looked around and noticed that their car keys were gone, which meant they had left early in the morning to do whatever it was that they always did. I greeted Brody who had trotted my way from the living room, and filled his dog bowl, adding a few tasty treats. While I served two plates, I put the coffee machine to run, ensuring the freshest pot for the morning. I looked around for a tray to take the breakfast upstairs in case my parents came back at any moment, eating my food as the coffee brewed. Placing some cream and sugars on the tray, I made my way back to the bedroom where Derek was starting to wake up, Brody following behind.

“Morning, sour wolf.” I softly pushed open the door, the tray in front of me. Derek was rubbing the night from his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. Upon seeing the man, Brody jumped on the bed greeting him with slobbery kissed. Derek laughed and petted his head as he laid at the foot of the bed.

“Morning,” he yawned. “Whatcha got there?”

“Some eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Also, some coffee.” He took the tray from my hands and set it on the bed. Taking one of the coffee cups, I sat over on my desk to work on the homework I had left pile during the week. Derek grabbed the plate and came to stand behind me, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder.”

“What are you doing?” He inquired, downing the food from the plate quickly.

“Homework. You know, the thing people my age have to do to be able to graduate from high school with good grades.” I looked to the side, my heart beating faster noticing the closeness of our faces. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know much about that.”

“I’ll have you know I was a good enough student.”

“Emphasis on good enough.” I booped his nose with my pen and continued my work. “When you’re done you should head home, don’t want my parents catching you here just in case.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything.” He sipped his coffee and sat down on the bed, Brody laying his head on his lap. I turned my chair and faced him, a laugh escaping my lips.

“I think you’re forgetting who you are and who my family is. Apart from that, I don’t think my dad will particularly enjoy the fact that a 21-year-old werewolf is in his teenage daughter’s bedroom, alone.” I grinned. “But suit yourself. I’d love to see how it will play out.”

“Alright, but can I at least take you out some time this week?” My heartbeat quickened, the sound loud enough for me to hear. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” I grinned.

“I kind of need an answer,” he pressed. A grin played on his lips by the point he had stood and rested his hands on the arms of the chair.

“How about, I’ll let you know?”

“I’ll take it,” he smiled. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting.” He kissed my cheek and grabbed his jacket to head towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home?”

“Not through the door you’re not.” The dumbfounded look on his face was hilarious. “what would I do if my parents walked in.”

“I’m fast, you know. Like supernaturally fast.”

“Mm, I’ve seen you. Not fast enough.”

“Fine,” he surrendered. “Keep watch of your phone.”

“I will,” I smiled. He took a step back and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Brody got alerted by the sudden move and jumped off the bed to bark at the window, standing on his hind legs to prop his eye out. I joined his side and saw Derek standing normally in my backyard as if he hadn’t just jumped out of a two-story window. He waved and I waved back as he became a blur, vanishing before my very eyes.

I slumped down on my bed and ran my hands over my face. What was I doing? There were so many things that were pit against us. My 18th birthday was still a little less than a year away, he had something going on with Erica, my family and he are natural-born enemies, we are currently under the terror of a reptilian shapeshifting Jackson, and that was just scratching the surface. I couldn’t scrutinize why he would ask me out too much, it was probably not even in a romantic way. It could just well be that he wanted to keep an eye on me since I was new to this whole werewolf, Kanima, hunter thing.

A couple of hours went by where I took Brody out for a walk, finished what was left of my homework, and started watching a movie when my phone went off.

“Hey, I heard the good news! You’re staying in town.”

“Hey, Allison. Yeah, it looks that way.”

“Well then, I believe you owe some people an apology.”

“What could you possibly mean?” I scoffed. But she was right, as hard as it was to admit.

“Don’t act dumb, (Y/N). You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t like it when you’re right,” I sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

“I could invite them over to your house and you could apologize to them. They never object to free pizza.”

I was glad. Instead of sulking on the 'he likes me, he likes me not' nonsense, I prepared the house for Allison and her friends, the people I hope to win over. One by one they arrived at my doorstep. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison. I had put out some snacks and the pizza I had bought. Scott and Stiles were not shy about their hunger as they dove in right away.

"So, what's the purpose of this meeting?" Lydia asked, her usual cocky attitude on full show.

"Uh, well, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch these past few weeks."

"Hm, understatement of the century." Stiles chuckled with his mouth full.

"Actually, she can be 1,000 times worse. That was just level 1 bitchiness."

"Point taken. But why would you apologize? We get it you don't want to be our friend."

"That's not it, it's just... ugh... Look, it’s honestly a very long story, but moving around it’s hard to cut ties and start over for so long. After a while it’s easier to builds walls up and maintain everyone at arm’s length." They all stared at me. Hopefully I was getting through to them. "But this time I'm changing that. I want to be your friend and that's why I'm apologizing."

"Well, I don't know about the other guys, but I've always considered you my friend. I mean, I've considered Lydia my friend and she hates me."

"Oh, please, Stiles. I don't hate you, you're just, um.... special."

"I'll take it."

"We understand. And of course you're our friend, (Y/N). You were just too stubborn to notice." Scott smiled at me. "Now, is there more pizza?"

"How the hell did you two boys just finish two boxes of pizza?"

"We're growing?" Stiles said with his mouth full.

"Barely," Allison mumbled.

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"That's the point, Scott."

The whole room laughed and continued to enjoy a very pleasant afternoon. It felt weird to finally feel like I belonged somewhere; that there were people around me that cared for me despite my flaws. As I looked around the faces of the group that had welcomed me with open arms, I couldn’t help but feel that someone was missing; the person that had first accepted me.

The clock had hit 4 o’clock when the last piece of food was gone, and the gang had gone home. After cleaning up, I decided it was time to call Isaac. I didn’t like the person he had become after the bite. But I couldn’t say I didn’t understand. He felt confident, strong, but he was using the wrong outlet. Just like I was.

“So, you’re finally talking to me,” Isaac chuckled, a cocky tone to his voice.

“Only if you’re done being a douche.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you turned into a werewolf you’ve been nothing short of unbearable with your cocky behavior and holier-than-thou attitude.” I could hear him shifting on the other line, the news taking him aback. It seems Derek hadn’t told his pack that I knew everything.

“H-how… who told you?”

“Derek, your alpha. He told me everything the other day. I know all about werewolves, kanimas, hunters, pack, blah, blah, blah. But none of that excuses your behavior,’’ I sighed. “So, are you done being a dick?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “Can I see you?”

“Sure. Why don’t we go grab a bite? I’ll pick you up.”

“Alright!” He sounded excited. “I’ll text you the address.”

After hanging up I decided to take a quick shower before leaving. I threw on a white t-shirt and jeans and paired them with my leather jacket. As I tied my boots, I reached for the keys of my dad’s Chevrolet Suburban. Hopefully, I didn’t crash. In the car, I typed in the address Isaac had sent me. It was an industrial loft not too far from my own home. I honked my horn to notify Isaac I was there as well as sent a text.

“Are you stalking me now?”

I jumped at the sound of Derek’s voice and the knock he left on my window. . He appeared like a ghost and leaned on my door. “I could say the same about you. I’ve never been here before.”

“I live here,” he laughed, pointing at the building. “It’s my loft.”

“I’m here to pick up Isaac,” I said sheepishly. “So, he’s been staying with you. I thought you live in the woods.”

“It’s my family’s house and it’s under my ownership, but it’s not under livable conditions. And, yes, Isaac has been staying with me.”

“Hey, Derek.” Isaac finally emerged from the doors and jogged up to my car, patting Derek on the back. The man’s expression rapidly changed as soon as Isaac joined the conversation. The playful smile he wore had been replaced by a menacing scowl. “We’re going out for a while. I’ll see you later.”

We said goodbye and as I drove off, I stared at Derek. His body was tense, and his jaw was clenched. He was angry, but I didn’t know why. When we were alone, he was a completely different person than what he showed to others. There was this terrifying façade that was impenetrable by everyone else, yet he was a completely different person with me; he was an Alpha to the others, but he was just Derek to me.

I parked the car at a small burger joint Isaac directed me to. It wasn’t too full, so our food came out quickly. We sat at a table in the back, far from any prying ears.

“So, what did you mean about this cocky attitude?” He popped a french fry into his mouth, playing around with his food. “You seemed quite mad about it. Mad enough that you avoided me for some time.”

“Ever since you transformed you’ve been carrying yourself like you’re above everyone, you don’t even bother to be respectful of teachers or anyone for that matter. I miss the old Isaac.”

“You mean the pushover wimpy kid?” He scoffed. “I can’t say the same.”

“That’s not what I meant.” My hand reached out to his clenched fist and his hold softened. “You were nice and respectful, and knew how to treat others because you knew how it felt to be mistreated. Of course, you could have done with more confidence, but that’s not what this is. It’s almost as if you’re turning into Jackson, heaven forbid.”

His eyes softened and I knew I was getting through the wall he had built up.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It's just… this is the first time in my life that I have felt powerful, like nothing and no one can touch me. I've dealt with so much shit that I thought I deserved to act like that," he sighed. "Can you ever forgive me?"

“You’re practically my best friend, how could I not?”

“Thanks.” He gave me a smile that I happily reciprocated. For the first time in a while, I was seeing the Isaac I had met some time ago. “So, what is it that you needed to speak to me so eagerly.”

“Remember how I mentioned that I would be moving at the end of the year so you shouldn’t get attached?” He nodded. “Well, it seems you’re gonna have to put up with me for a long time. Beacon Hills is now my home.”

“What?! That’s great!” He exclaimed a little too loud. Heads turned towards us and Isaac tried to hide his blush. “Does that mean we can truly be friends now? Not just study partners or casual conversation acquaintances?”

“Yes, Isaac. That’s exactly what that means,” I laughed. His face had lit up as the hard mask he wore finally broke apart. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened the night that I picked you up? It was such a weird night.”

His whole demeanor changed, clearly a sore subject to talk about. "If Derek told you what we are I presume he told you about everything else." I nodded. "The Kanima. It killed my father. We, um, had gotten into a fight and I ran out. It seems he went out looking for me but didn't get to me. I found him dead in his car, but I ran and called you."

" Isaac, why didn't you tell me? I mean, I know why you didn't tell me, but something; you should have told me something.” I looked into his eyes, worry evident in them. He had gone through such a traumatic event basically by himself. “Is that why the police were looking for you?"

He nodded. "They thought I had something to do with his murder because of something Jackson said. He was unfortunately my neighbor and had seen me running out of the house, but there were no tracks leading to me. I'm not a fugitive anymore." He smiled softly.

“I’m glad, Isaac, really. And I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve had to endure alone for all these years. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). At least that part of my life is over.”

“Now we just have to get that damn Kanima and get on with our lives.” We laughed.

Before we knew it, the sky outside had turned dark, signaling the arrival of the night. The car ride back was filled with mindless chitchat and soft background music. It had been a long few days and exhaustion was evident in both of us. Soon enough, the grey building had come into view.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Isaac leaned into the open window of the driver’s side.

“I think I’m just gonna head on home. I’m a bit tired and we have school tomorrow.” I smiled. “But, I’ll take you up on the offer someday.”

“Isaac, good to see you’re back,” Derek announced himself, his two betas following behind. “You’re late for training.”

“Sorry, Derek. Time slipped away.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” His voice was commanding and a bit intimidating. I could see why everyone around me feared him. “Go with Erica and Boyd. Get started.”

'‘Bye, (Y/N). I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled and nodded, trying my best to comfort him.

“See you.” Derek stood back as we both watched the three figures disappear into the building. His chest moved, heaving, and he reeked of jealousy. “What’s your problem?”

“What?” Did he truly believe I was that oblivious? “I just…”

“You’re acting like a prissy child, Derek. You knew where Isaac was, who he was with, and that there was a possibility that he would come back late. There’s no need to grill him that hard.”

“He’s old enough to manage his time correctly, (Y/N). He needs to learn discipline. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Clearly, that’s not what’s happening here,’’ I laughed dryly. “Look, pardon the metaphor, but this whole alpha male act is gonna get very tiring, very quickly. If this is how you’re gonna be, don’t bother on scheduling that date this week.”

“Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I swear this has nothing to do with you. There are certain rules that we have to abide by, a different life. It’s complicated.”

“You’re not making any sense, Derek.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Yesterday we said no secrets, Derek. What changed in the hours that have passed?”

“Nothing’s changed. I’m sorry if I seemed too harsh on Isaac, but I have to be. They’re young and reckless, and it’s my job to make sure they stay safe. No matter the cost.” He ran his hands across his face as he let out a loud sigh. “Why don’t we just keep the supernatural and our personal lives apart.”

“We can try that for a while, but they’re bound to intersect at some point.”

“I know, but…”

“Let’s play it your way and see how it goes, okay? And lay off Isaac and the others? They are just kids.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled softly. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“If I remember.”

I backed the car up and sped back to my house. When I opened the garage, my father was sitting on the spot where the car usually went. I had forgotten to tell them I would be gone, and my phone’s battery had died a while back. I was in so much trouble.

“Good to know you’re alive, darling daughter.” The sarcasm spewed from my father’s mouth, and it stung.

“I’m so sorry. I went out with a friend and my phone died. And I know I forgot to say I was leaving the house, but I rarely do that, so please forgive me.”

“Calm down, (Y/N),” he laughed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t answering your phone, so we got worried. But remember, there’s a tracker on the car. We figured you were out. And I’m glad to hear you have a friend. It’s about time.”

“Thanks, dad.” He wrapped me in a hug and patted my head. If he knew who my friends were I’m sure he wouldn’t feel the same way. “But, if you knew where I was, what was this whole scary setup? I for sure thought you were going to kill me.”

“Nothing like that, honey. But your mother and I have something we have to talk to you about.”

“What is it? You can’t take back that we are staying.”

“It’s not that, but it is serious. Let’s go, your mom is waiting in the kitchen.”

My heart was beating at a rapid pace, a million thoughts running through my head. Although, at the bottom of my heart I knew what this talk was going to be about.

Tag List: @hellowinterlane @lokisgoddesofpower @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @malar-region

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kokororyuu · 4 years ago

Text

miles apart [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: “you’re going to die,” “i know,” “you’re dying,” “i know, levi, i’m sorry,”

warnings ⚠️: major character death(s), SPOILERS up to season three, slight suggestive themes (its brief!!), brief description of gore

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: no, because,,, this was my first levi fanfic, and i’m immensely proud of it ‼️ if we ignore the “suggestive” part 😩😩 anyway, have fun reading, lovebugs <33

PART TWO: once more

whatever just happened, had happened too fast, and now both you and levi were laying side by side, miles apart from everyone else and the chaos that caused this whole mess in the first place.

you’re both injured bad from the war, and the stench of blood, both humans and titans alike, lays thick in the air. you find yourself nearly suffocating in it as you cough up what seems to be more blood, it’s metallic taste coating your lips and tongue in red.

you can barely feel your arms and legs, and you’re pretty sure they’re either broken or torn off from the fight. you pull your heavy lids open and stare blearily at the night sky, how many hours had passed since you two had been laying here like this?

you turn your head slowly, hearing the multiple cracks your joints made in the effort as your eyes trailed to levi’s face. he’s still in the same position, facing the sky with empty, soulless eyes. you reckon he was pondering something, how long were we gonna stay here? when will someone arrive to help us?

“levi?” you croak out, and he lets out a little rumble of acknowledgement. “are you okay?” what a stupid question... with how levi is, he definitely isn’t, but he was sure to make it seem like he was. he nods to the best of his ability, though he isn’t faring much better than you. gashes that gush with blood cut across his body in what seems to be parallel and equal in length, claws, of some sort, you assume. “good,” you whisper so softly that he almost doesn’t catch the murmured word.

your life seems to be flashing before your eyes quite slowly for the amount of time you’ve spent here bleeding out beside the man.

you recall the first time you caught him off guard.

it was a complete accident. as a member of levi’s squadron, you worked under him as a subordinate and did as he said, after all, he had chosen you to be on his team, and you put as much trust in him as he did in you.

you were bringing him some tea after you had dropped off a huge stack of paperwork in his office. you knew he needed it, after all, it had only been a few days after your most recent expedition and paperwork was a bore if you ever knew one.

a simple teapot and cup of black tea rested on the tray in your hands as you made your way from the kitchen to his office, acknowledging a few cadets that would respectfully greet you before going on their way. when you had finally made it to his door, you knocked gently before waiting for his usual question of your name and reason for entering.

a few seconds, maybe minutes passed, and you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, but you hadn’t want the tea to go to waste, so you hesitantly pushed the door open with your foot, entering the sparkling clean room with tray in hand.

“captain levi?” you nearly bit your tongue (oluo would have laughed in your face if you did before biting down on his own) and froze with your head peeking inside the room at the sight of the man leaning his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his usual frown wiped off his face.

it had you in a wonder, surprised that even humanity’s strongest (and grouchiest) soldier could have a face as calm as the one on his as he slept. you stepped as quietly as you could toward his desk, setting the tea down with care before you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

your eyes traveled up the scarred and rough hand, up the toned arm, and looked straight into narrowed grey eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“got you tea, captain,” your nerves were calm now, and you spoke with a grin, “thought you would need it with all the paperwork commander tosses at you,”

levi’s hand lingered on your wrist a little longer before he pulled away and carried the steaming cup to his lips in his strange cup hold that you’ve tried to mimic yet still can’t get right. he drank a little, his face ever so stoic. “tastes like shit, brat,” he said, though he made no move to drop the cup back into the tray and continued to sip away at the red orange liquid.

“thought you’d say that,” you turned to leave after saluting him, your hand wrapping around the doorknob before a mischievous impulse lit in you once more, “you know, captain,” he didn’t even glance up from the papers on his desk. “you look cute when you’re sleeping,” his gaze snapped up at that, and he was about to chew you out for making the comment, but to his dismay, you were already gone, having gotten the amusing response from him that you wanted.

there were many times after that where you’d make a little comment here and there, only to get an icy glare and a click of the tongue from levi, which wasn’t a problem to you at all, if anything, you found it the best part. the way he’d scowl at you and turn away, only to let you get away with it the very next day. it was like a little game the two of you would play, and you were winning if eye rolls, embarrassed blushes hidden behind callused hands, and, “tch,”’s counted as prizes.

you would’ve never thought he’d bite back, especially this far into the game.

“captain levi~!” you drew out his name with a little hop in your step. he didn’t stop walking, if anything, his pace sped up as he tried to leave you in the hallway. “captain!” you groaned childishly and ran after him. he turned the corner and into his office, leaving the door ajar. you grinned, it seemed he knew well enough you wouldn’t stop for a closed door. you opened it as soon as your hand touched the cool wood, and sang out, “levi~” you saw him standing by his desk and looking down at the papers that littered it. “i’ve got another joke for you—”

“—if you keep this up, i might actually get angry,” you halted in your tracks and clamped your mouth shut, angry? oh no, you weren’t trying to make him angry, only annoy him if anything. you knew, everyone knew to not get on levi’s bad side, and after seeing the man kick the titan shifter boy from the 104th cadets merciless, it’d be terribly stupid of you to try and anger him.

he dragged his fingertips across the tabletop and looked up through hooded eyes, “might even punish you,” you were stuck in a stupor at his words and how they obviously had implications for something else.

“but i guess you’d like that, hm? i wouldn’t want give you that satisfaction,” he seemed pleased with the way your cheeks flamed up and your jaw stayed dropped in shock. after he grabbed whatever he needed from his desk, he walked by you with a sly quirk of his lips, dragging a hand up to close your agape mouth. “close the door after you leave,” he called out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

from there on, your relationship had changed drastically. this game now had two players, and that new addition was the original target of the game himself. the teasing and playful jokes continued on for days, weeks, and you were having so much fun that you barely realized how much some people were noticing, including a certain bespectacled one.

“hey, hange!” you plopped next to them as you watched them fiddle with a little gadget. “what’s this?” you eyed curiously as hange laughed.

“my new creation! i’m trying to make something erwin asked for to help with his arm. you nodded, understanding immediately. the commander had lost his arm when the scouts went to save eren from a kidnapping. there was a few moments of silence before hange asked, “so… you and levi?”

you opened your mouth to retort but they beat you to it, “don’t deny it! even eren can tell, and he’s as dense as a rock!” you cowered from their accusing finger before huffing out a sigh.

“you know it doesn’t work like that, hange,” the mood dampened with your honest but hurtful words. you were right, it didn’t. with a world of titans and destruction, war like this, there would never be a second of peace, of life, of freedom. you could be alive and happy one day and then die and suddenly gone forever the next. and with levi being an ackerman, he was bound to survive longer than you, you just didn’t want to cause him more unnecessary pain.

hange hummed under their breath, “you’re right, but if it were me, i’d rather die knowing i had the chance and took it, than die letting it slip between my fingers,” they continued to tinker with the gadget as you pondered quietly on their words. they were right, but so were you, and now it was just up to the risk both sides were willing to take. what would happen if you ever confessed these buried feelings of yours to your terribly stoic captain?

in the end, you never said anything, at all. the two of you stayed at this sort of flirting and joking around type state. it was comfortable, you concluded, though you had to be honest, there were a few close calls where you felt you blushed too much, said too much, or gasped a little too loud when his touch lingered on you for too long.

you hadn’t said a word about your feelings for the man, and neither did he.

levi didn’t know when his heart had decided to let you in.

it was probably after erwin had passed away on a roof of a building with a gaping hole in his side that colored his cape and the white bandages around his abdomen red.

he brought his body back for a proper burial, but even then, levi couldn’t cry, nor let a single tear slip down his cheek. for a few weeks, even if he seemed put together, there was a heavy feeling that resided in his chest. no matter if he tried to sleep it away or drown himself in paperwork, it never left him.

it had been a rough night. there were complications with the imports from a faraway town in sina, and while hange was busy with things as the newly appointed commander, levi had to deal with the papers that came with the conflict.

he didn’t know how long he had been sitting before the fireplace in the mess hall, scratching away at the parchment under the warmth of the flickering fire that casted a warm orange hue around the room.

he clicked his tongue as another wave of aches hit his head before rubbing at his temples. erwin would’ve been better at handling this shit… his brow furrowed at his thoughts, you know better than that, there’s no bringing him back, you made the choice, levi.

levi didn’t regret his choice, but he had guessed the heavy presence of death had just stuck with him a little tighter this time around. it was fine, it would pass, at least, that was what he told himself.

during his turmoil, you had entered the mess hall as quietly as you could, “captain levi?” he looked up from the papers and pulled his hand away from his face with a quirked brow. “i brought you tea,” you spoke softly as to not agitate him any further. “i hope it tastes better than last time, i practiced,” you sent him a lopsided smile that you hoped would ease his frown, but instead, it brought the opposite.

the lines on his face became deeper as he scowled, “i don’t have time right now,” and the grumble of your name right after sounded harsh on both yours and even his ears. it was now your turn to pout. you definitely weren’t trying to mess around with him right now, not with all the stress and the recent death of one of his closest friends.

you sat there across from him at the table in silence for a few moments as he penned the paper. what could make him feel better? you thought quietly to yourself, your eyes raking over levi in search of something, any indicator to help him. a sudden idea popped in your head as you stood, making your way to stand behind him as you watched his eyes never leave the documents. “what are you doing?”

you reached over and plucked the pen from his hand, placing it down on the table and ignoring his glare, “just relax, levi, i’m gonna try and sort out these tense ass muscles of yours,” as soon as the words popped out of your mouth, your hands began to press into his shoulders, eliciting a little sound of surprise from levi. he almost immediately tensed back up at the foreign feeling but relaxed to the best of his abilities after a few pointed words from you.

“i’m not just here to get you tea, you know?” you worked out a knot in his neck, watching as his head lolled to the side to give you more room to work. “i had the same training as you, and i know how to handle paperwork, you could always ask if you need the help,” he hummed at your offer, and you only chuckled before getting back to his tense muscles.

levi let himself relax, more so than he probably ever had. your hands made their way up the base of his neck, and he let out a little sigh. he didn’t think this would feel this good, and he was considering what he could do to pay you back before realizing. what was the need to? you were doing the work of a subordinate for a superior, there was no need for him to treat you to anything.

but there was something that made levi realize that it wasn’t true, no matter how much every fiber in his body wanted to reject the idea. you were different, in your own weird way, and he couldn’t place his finger on it yet, but he decided he’d find out along the way.

“alright, you can work with me starting tomorrow, meet me here after dinner. if you’re late, i’m not letting you help again,” you smiled victoriously and pat his shoulders to signify you were done massaging them.

“alright then! see you tomorrow, captain,” you saluted him and shuffled out of the mess hall to leave him to his work.

the man held back a chuckle, sipping on the now lukewarm tea by his side. he had to admit, you were getting better at brewing his favorite drink.

levi’s heart felt a little lighter that night.

the two of you were almost impossibly closer after that. early mornings were spent with hange at important meetings and gatherings, most of the days were spent listening to hange rant about titans and ridiculous (but hilarious) and sometimes even useful plans, and late nights would be spent on paperwork and idle chatter by the warm fireplace in the mess hall.

the two of you would talk about nothing and everything, sometimes levi letting you talk his ear off as he added comments here and there or choosing to bask in each other’s silence as the flames beside you two crackled.

there were nights you fell asleep at the table, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one levi refused to share with you the night before around your shoulders that smelled of fresh laundry and lemons.

levi remembered all these little moments, including the time he had to yank a paper from under your arm to save it from your impending drool, or the multiple times he draped his cotton blanket over you and pulled it around your shoulders, his hands hesitating to pick off the dust that had resided on your cheek before gently brushing it off you and holding his breath when you’d twitch or move from his touch.

he still couldn’t really understand how it happened really, but spending time with you made him realize how much he liked the way you smiled at him no matter how annoyed he was with you, and the way you talked to him like he wasn’t humanity’s strongest soldier.

he felt normal, and strangely free.

and for some reason, he felt that if you ever disappeared from his sight, he’d lose this light feeling in his chest that outshined the bitter emotions he was always burdened with.

he didn’t want to lose you.

levi huffs, trying to control his unsteady breathing. there’s a feeling of discomfort that settles in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s from just the cuts and bruises he obtained from the crash. you’re treating him like he’s fragile, like glass, and he hates it, sure, he’s broken, even he knows that, but he hates it.

humanity’s strongest soldier… he scoffs internally at himself, well, he feels pretty pathetic at the moment. he then outwardly scowls, gripping onto the pants of his torn uniform.

“you’re going to die,” he doesn’t mean for his words to sound so sharp, and he’s sure that his tone hurts you more than the gashes that litter your torso.

“i know,” he’s right, it hurts, and they seem to cut deeper than your wounds, as if someone struck your heart with a knife and twisted the blade.

his voice nearly breaks when he says this, but he stays... strong, “you’re dying,”

“i know, levi. i’m sorry,”

you know this man has been through so much, too much. he lost too many, has seen too much, he’s been through so many tragedies, and you still haven’t seen him cry, not once, and not now as you lay beside him, shivering and keeping your eyes open enough to watch him glare up at the night sky.

one last attempt, you think to yourself. you need to get his attention before it’s too late, before you fade away and disappear, but you can already feel your conscious slipping through your fingertips and your eyes drooping.

“levi…” your voice sounds pained when he stays turnt away from you and looks up at the moon, “i’m proud of you,” levi’s heart squeezes and so does his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear your soft voice right now, nor look at your mangled body, or hear the shouts of soldiers swinging around on their odm gear or the battle cries as they slice into titans’ napes.

you bite back a cry at his act of ignorance to your pleas for him to just look at you, and fall silent as your energy drains along with the blood that comes from you and him and soak into the earth. you meant those words, you mean what you said, and you beg him with your eyes focused on his high cheekbones to just spare you a glance while his stay glued to the twinkling stars.

it becomes so quiet, that levi begins to think you’ve already kicked the bucket with how he can barely hear your breathing.

he’s already preparing himself to do what he usually does, steel himself against the terrible emotions of survivor’s guilt and sorrow. every time he feels the twinge of depression and desperation creep up and wrap itself around his heart, he escapes to his mind, the logical part of him. the part that keeps him miles apart from everything, distance, safety.

he does it so much that you know, and you can tell he’s doing it right now with how tense his brow is and how the nails of the hand which lays between you digs into his palm. he’s closing himself off again, even after all these years you’ve spent together as comrades, partners in crimes, and what you hope was as friends.

you try to distract yourself some more, with anything really, the way his hair, though covered in blood seems to flow seamlessly to the sides of his head, revealing his undercut, and his eyes that stare silently into the endless blue sky, or the familiar smell of citrus and fresh laundry that you get from him even with the layers of smoke that are wafting from the ongoing battle burning your lungs or the smell of blood still seeping out from the both of you.

you want to hold onto the lingering hope that he’ll turn to you and at least say one last goodbye, or say those unspoken feelings he’s always hidden behind cool grey eyes, but he doesn’t say a word.

time is running out, and you need to say this, say this before you leave him like everyone else. levi’s fingers twitch when he hears you take in a sudden breath, your voice coming out quiet, weak, frail.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” levi’s eyes open, and his head snaps toward you, and he regrets it, so bad. he manages to catch the exact moment the light, the life, fades from your very eyes he always thought were so gorgeous.

he’s lost his light.

you’re gone.

levi feels this terrible grip on his heart that makes him lose his breath and his head pound worse than it already is, and he chokes on the blood that gushes from his lips. his hand reaches out to you weakly, his arms, losing their strength, and he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open.

he almost can’t bring himself to do it, but he leans forward to press a shaky and hesitant kiss on the top of your head that he hopes conveys all the unsaid confessions he could’ve showered you with before your passing. his lips are warm, while your body turns pale and blue, and he finds it ironic how someone as kind and bright as you now seems dull in comparison to him.

as unshed tears pool at the corners of his eyes, your lifeless ones bore into his for the last time before he pushes them close with a touch of his hands over your eyes.

his heart, it hurts so bad, more than it ever has, and no matter how much he tries to push down the lump in his throat or the burning of his eyes and heart, it persists. he slowly falls back into his previous position, your corpse beside him losing its warmth and his steel grey eyes facing the moon once more.

the fuzzy lines around the full moon start to blur as he blinks a few times, the hues of white mixing with the blue of the sky, “it is…”

and finally, he lets himself cry.

explanations

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

this is a more poetic way to say “i love you” in japanese :D

“it is...”

this is essentially “i love you too” in reply to “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot #levi aot #aot imagines #snk fanfiction #snk levi #snk #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #angst #attack on titan #major character death #angst with a sad ending #angst with fluff #fluff

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whisperingrockers · 5 years ago

Note

would u. i dunno. perhaps articulate some thots on toh infinity train au 😳 if u can

HM. i will do my best. but...i dont really know how to organize my thoughts. i guess i should probably just start with the characters and go from there, huh. also in this particular au these characters don’t actually take the place of tulip, lake, jesse, grace, etc- i think they’re all just there under different circumstances.

Luz

okay so we’ll start with Luz because. she’s the main character, y’know. very important. i think the catalyst that brings her to the train is her mother signing her up for Reality Check summer camp because as a creative it’s just! disheartening to have someone you love tell you that you’re not going to make it in this world if you don’t conform to what everyone else wants. so of course when a huge mysterious locomotive suddenly pulls up to the bus stop you KNOW luz gets on, no hesitation. after all, isn’t that something right out of a sci-fi adventure novel?

unlike tulip, luz is THRILLED to find herself on some unknowable train where each car is a new adventure just waiting to happen, where there are always new friends to make, new places to see, and tons of puzzles to solve? she’s made to feel like the protagonist right out one of her fave animes.

also, really important to note that her number is probably tied to how she relates to the other passengers on the train. i feel like there’s an overarching theme in the show about how luz is going through a lot of firsts when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially friendships, so i wanted to keep that going in this au- i imagine her number goes up when she finds her friends tapes and convinces them to watch with her because this is obviously the easiest and most straightforward way to get to know them! (luz poppin that bad boy into a vcr player: this mama is ready for trauma!)

realized how wordy this is going to be LOL

Eda

hough so this is a human au also (i assume? infinity train world really do be existing in some limbo state of reality where your reflection can just up and ditch you). i see her as a jack of all trades, master of none type, with a lean towards perfumes and handmade soaps that she sells at fairs or farmers markets and also pickpocketing. i think she sees something that reminds her of the life she used to have/would have had before lilith [redacted because i do not know what she DID yet but on GOD we will have canon continuity] and that drives her to get on the next train headed anywhere.

her number is tied to how much she allows herself to open up; the more she uses her salesman cover to keep others at arms length, the higher her number goes, which is why it’s so important for her to team up with King and Luz; they help her open up and be more honest with herself.

King

king is actually a denizen of the train in this au; i love him too much to turn him into a real ass dog, so i wont. eda meets him in a car full of plush toys, which he refers to lovingly as his army of the damned. i almost want to hold off on writing up any more for him because i know there’s more to king’s character than meets the eye. still torn between eda trying to bring him off the train with her or having him realize that the whole TRAIN is HIS KINGDOM, and all its passengers loyal peons who need their mighty rulers HELP, for without him they would PERISH.

for now though eda sees him and is immediately like get over here (reaching emoji)

Willow

willow is a tough one for me because in all honesty having your longtime friend tell you out of the blue that they can’t be friends with you anymore would be enough to send me packing to the train, but with willow i think it’s less about amity and more about how the fallout between them affects her social and academic success. the frustration reaches a tipping point that has her running out of the classroom and finding the train.

and yes, willow is a very sensible, bright girl, but she was also SO ready to trick the principle and steal from the emperor for her friend so i don’t think getting on a mystery train is wholly out of the question for her, y’know?

There’s a lot about repression in the way willow deals with things generally, so her number is tied to passivity. the more she allows others to infringe on her personal boundaries to keep them placated, the higher her number goes. when she stands up for herself to others (sometimes even her friends!) the number goes up. willow x agency and clear limitations is my otp

Gus

gus was actually a SUPER easy one for me we know so much about him from the episodes he’s been in; he’s an overachiever, he’s passionate about what he loves, he’s a natural showman, and he is constantly pushing himself to be the best that he can be, all the time. the hustle doesn’t STOP for gus, and i...i...(tears up)

anyways, i think the thing that draws him to the train is getting suddenly ousted from the club he formed at school. he’s young, and having everyone you had assumed were your friends turn their back on you and throw you out of the space that you CREATED FOR THEM would be shocking to anyone, but it broke gus’ heart clean in two. after he’d picked his bag and himself up off the hallway floor, he’d left the building in a daze, not even realizing as he boarded the train door that had suddenly opened up in front of him until it was too late.

i’m actually going to go so far as to say that gus would likely be the one MOST interested in the truth of the train- he’d be asking the tough questions, like what is the purpose of the train? who made it and its technology? where does it exist that it can be both at his school and also speeding across a barren desert landscape at the same time? How does it create sentient lifeforms? the train helps him discover a new passion; journalism. he finds a journal that speaks to him as a friend and advisor in one of the trains, and he takes careful note of everything that happens to and around him. by the time he meets up with willow, he’s got so many ideas and theories that the other girl would have never thought to consider until that very moment.

idk what his number relates to because he’s perfect the way he is but if i had to take a shot in the dark it probably has something to do with finding somewhere he feels he can belong, as well as being able to mourn and let go of the people he’d considered his friends before he’d gotten on the train.

sorry this is so long i just have a lot of . gus feelings.

Amity ( + Edric + Emira )

lumping these whites together

okay so nobody wants to hear me talk about blight angst there are 800 posts about blight angst, so long story short the three siblings run away, get into an argument with each other, amity ditches them for the train while they’re asleep, and the twins panic and chase after her, determined to find her because in the end they’re all they’ve got.

‘next stop: amity blight’

i think it’d be a cool journey to see the three of them going from ‘we need to be together out of necessity’ to ‘we need to be together because we love each other, and that genuine support structure will pull us through when everything else fails.’ but in order for that to happen they all have to have their own journey, so at some point edric and emira finally get into a spat and that’s enough to get edric and emira stuck on opposite ends of a retracting bridge. send that mans to the BACK of the train.

emira: my greatest fear is being stuck with edric forever emira: (gets separated from edric) emira: haha wait please say psyche

amity’s number is definitely tied to her fear of failure, of not being enough for the people she holds closest to her- in this case her siblings, and then lilith, and then luz when they finally meet. when she acts without concern for what the people around her think and when she sticks up for what she knows is right, even when the majority is against her, her number goes down.

for ed and em im...i don’t want to think about their feelings because they’re supposed to be clowns but i am forced to consider that they may be jealous of their sisters independence. also separating them means they both have to take responsibility for all their own actions and choices, which is probably pretty new for the twins.

Lilith

im out of energy actually znzzzsnsz uh. estranged sister who sees something that reminds her of the relationship she used to have and she’s not actually as over it as she thought so the train....she..hghrg

#toh #the owl house

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icecream-and-gadreel · 5 years ago

Text

Fever (NSFW)

Summary: After being tasked to watch Gadreel for the night, you find that the ratty motel you're both sharing doesn't have a heater. It's a terribly frigid winter night, and your only source of heat seems to be the ex-angel.

Pairing: human!Gadreelxreader

Other characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, size kink, getting caught, PWP

Word count: 2200+

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. You don't know how long this simple fic took me, y'all. But I did it, pals, I DID IT! (p.s. as a Minnesotan, I have a right to hate my state bahaha enjoy!)

“They only had one double,” Dean says, holding out a set of keys to you. "Gad's gettin' the couch." Huffing, you snatch the keys from him, nodding.

“Whatever,” you say, adjusting your duffle bag over your shoulder. Dean stares at you silently, and you purse your lips, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Well, see you tomorrow –”

“Gad's off-limits,” Dean blurts. Your eyebrows shoot up, words lost to you. “I'm serious. I see how you look at 'em. It's not happening.”

“I could've sworn that I'm a grown-ass woman –”

“Yeah well, he still took Sam's body for a joyride. Until we can trust 'em, keep it in your pants,” he grumbles, eyes training on something behind you. You turn as Gadreel pulls your duffle bag from your shoulder, smiling. He smiles in return, nodding to the door. Your smile fades as you watch the snowfall, cursing under your breath. Taking a deep breath, you sprint out of the check-in booth, running to your room with your room key drawn. Why the hell didn't you bring a jacket?!

“Shit,” you hiss, rushing into the motel room and rubbing your arms with a shiver. You look over your shoulder, clenching your jaw. Gadreel slowly makes his way to the room, rummaging through your duffle bag. “Hey,” you say, stiffening as a freezing breeze chills at your skin. He pauses in the threshold, continuing to rummage through the bag. “Dude,” you grunt, teeth chattering. He hums in response, remaining still in his place.

“Yes?”

“Get in here!” you snap, making him look up at you. “I-it's freezing,” you say as you grab his forearm.

“Right, you don't like the cold. I apologize,” Gadreel says, smiling sweetly and allowing you to lead him in. No matter how much time goes by, you'll never get used to these mid-western winters. Plopping down on the bed, you wrap the stiff motel blanket around yourself, trying to stop yourself from shaking. “I thought my blade was in your bag...”

“I-I didn't s-see it,” you say, rubbing your hands together frantically as you lay on your side.

This is how you die.

Not by vampires, or curses, or any other thing you face every week. No, a brisk Minnesota winter is the thing that takes you out. Who the hell moves here on purpose?! You scan your eyes around the room for a heater, cursing under your breath. Next time, you're going to a place with proper god damn insulation.

Gadreel pulls his leather jacket off, shooting you a sympathetic look. You return his look with a glare, lips poked out in a pout. “How are you not freezing?”

“I'm generally quite hot,” he mumbles, rubbing his nape. You glance up at him, nodding to yourself. Yeah, he is. You inadvertently trail your eyes over his form, quickly turning your eyes away when he looks at you. This is basically babysitting. You watch him when the Winchester's can't be bothered. Only watching, nothing more. You repeat this in your mind over and over, willing yourself to stop ogling him. Setting down the duffle bag, Gadreel sits down next to you, resting a hand on your calf. You look down at him, furrowing your brow. Heat radiates off of him like a furnace, and your body stops shivering almost instantly.

“Shit, you weren't lying,” you chuckle, rubbing your thighs together. “Holy crap, this is so much better.”

“Well, in that case.” Smiling, he lays behind you, and you stiffen, heat rushing to your cheeks. “How is this?” he asks. You nod silently, cursing Dean's voice in your head. Be responsible. Be smart. Keep your distance. You roll your eyes at the thought of his and Sam's disappointment, allowing your eyes to bat shut. Gadreel drapes an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close. The gentle rising and falling of his chest makes your body relax further, and soon, you're slumped against him, slipping into a peaceful sleep.

…....

Your eyes snap open abruptly, a deep frown on your face. You shift in your place, halting when you feel warm, solid muscle against your back. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with Gadreel's sleeping face.

Shit.

You try to retrace the night. It was cold as fuck. Gadreel, on the other hand, was warm. Ah, right. You passed out. To be fair, coming back from being chased by a pack of werewolves would leave anyone exhausted. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself. As you silently recount the night, the cause for you waking up becomes blatantly apparent. Something hard is poking into your back. Huffing, you elbow him. “Hey, move your angel blade,” you whisper. He stirs, pulls you closer, and goes back to his rhythmic breathing, making it poke you harder. “Jesus,” you grumble, reaching back and feeling around. When you finally find whatever the hell it is that's stabbing into you, you grip it tightly. To your surprise, Gadreel lets out a startled moan, quickly pulling out of your grasp and sitting up. You stay frozen in your place, heart pounding.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sleepily, rubbing his eye. “I'm still adjusting to my human body,” he adds.

Warm, throbbing, and thick. You somehow managed to memorize the feel of his shaft within the one second you gripped it. Heat builds in your core, and you curse yourself, trying to keep your mind from drifting to non-platonic places. “I-it's ok...sorry I grabbed...your...” You let your voice trail away, wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as you remember the feeling of it once more. The bed creaks underneath his weight, and you frown, turning to him. “Where you going?” you ask, frowning deeper when he gestures to the small armchair in the corner. “But it's still freezing in here!” you blurt, cursing the whine in your voice. Gadreel scratches his arm, shifting in his place. “Please?” you add. With this, he's climbing back into the bed, lying flat on his back. Even in the dark, you can see the petrified look on his face. Before you can speak, he's turning to you.

“I don't want to disrespect you,” he says, eyes shifting rapidly. “It won't happen again.”

You shake your head, looking at him over your shoulder. “It's not disrespectful, it's natural,” you say. Gadreel goes silent, an impossible to read expression crossing his face. Finally, after many moments, he looks at you, furrowing his brow.

“So, it's ok that I'm aroused by you?” he asks, making your throat run dry. You stutter over unformed sentences, a million thoughts rushing through your head. Reluctantly, you nod, biting your lip. “Then I shouldn't feel ashamed?”

“Hell no, you're blessed,” you say, laughing awkwardly. Gadreel leans up on his elbows, and you turn to face him, heart pounding in your chest.

“Blessed?”

“Yeah it's...big,” you say, gesturing to the air. “And a lot of people...like big dicks,” you add. He nods, eyes locked on his crotch. By the grace of God, you manage to keep your eyes on his face.

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head. You open your mouth to talk, trying to figure out which moment in life led you to explaining what a size kink is to an angel.

“Because it feels good – or looks good – or I guess people like the feeling of being full,” you say, squeezing your thighs together. He hums, trailing his eyes over your form.

“Do you like them big, Y/N?” he asks, his voice deep and purring. You stare at him silently, giving him a reluctant nod with a shuddered breath. “Hm.” Gadreel leans over you, grazing his fingers along your cheek with wide and wondering eyes. He takes you in, feature by feature as if he's trying to memorize your face.

It's hard to say who initiated it.

One moment, you're both silently asking 'Is this ok?', and the next, you're pressed against each other, sharing hungered kisses as you both grab greedily at each other. He pushes between your thighs, his hard cock twitching against your core as you roll your hips up against him. Running your fingers through his hair, you pull him impossibly close, tongue pushing into his mouth as you deepen the kiss. God, he's perfect. His scent, his warmth, the feeling of his weight on top of you. It's all driving you insane. Gadreel pulls out of the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, hands running under your shirt, and palming at your breasts. You make quick work of unhooking your bra, sucking in a breath as he presses his mouth over your nipple, his tongue swirling and his free hand kneading your other breast. He leans up on his knees, unbuttoning his jeans with his eyes locked on you. You're slack-jawed by the time he frees his length.

It's monstrous.

Thick and long, with a single vein running down the side. You wonder to yourself if it would fit in your mouth, let alone your sex. Your juices coat your panties, relieving any doubt in your mind. Gadreel strokes his cock lazily in his hand, running his tongue along his lips.

“Maybe you should take those off,” he says teasingly, gesturing to your jeans. You shake out of your trance, pulling your jeans and panties down your thighs. Immediately, the chill of the room tingles at your skin, and you pull him down against you, gaining a startled grunt.

“Still freezing,” you say, gaining a chuckle in return. Gadreel wraps your legs around his waist, eyebrows shooting up as his length slides against your slit.

“You're already this wet for me, Y/N?” he breathes, slipping his cock between your folds, eyes dark with lust. You respond with a kiss, nibbling at his lip and rolling your hips. You moan as the head of his cock slides back and forth over your clit, squeaking as he finally finds your entrance.

As the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance, you let out a squeak, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Holy shit,” you breathe, clenching your walls as the head of his cock pushes into you.

He pauses, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. “I won't hurt you,” he whispers, pressing another gentle kiss against your lips as he pushes in deeper. Inch by inch, he stretches you out further than you've ever been stretched, and soon only incoherent sounds come from you. He doesn't try to hide his pleasure. No, instead he curses and moans your name, mouth gaped in pleasure as he's engulfed in your warmth. He gives you a short thrust, gently caressing your cheek before finding a steady rhythm. You wrap your arms around his neck, thighs clenching around his waist as he slowly fucks into you.

“Nngh – you're so tight,” he moans, fingers digging into your thighs as he quickens his pace. You cry out, body arching up as his hips smack against you. His thunderous thrusts shake the bed, smacking against the wall with each movement. It's only at this moment that it dawns upon you: Sam and Dean are in the room next over.

“Wait,” you squeak, bracing his arms. He stops immediately, cradling your face with a look of concern. “Th-they might...hear,” you whisper, nodding to the wall. He hums, gently placing a hand over your mouth.

“Problem solved,” Gadreel says, smacking his hips forward. Soon, he's back to his previous pace, his cock slamming into you as pleasure overtakes him. Your moans are trapped in your chest, eyes rolling back in pleasure as your edge quickly approaches. “Y/N – fuck –” He cuts himself off with a guttural groan, eyes squeezed shut tight. Your walls clench around him as your orgasm finally takes over. Arching off the bed, you drag your nails down his arms, screaming in pleasure as he continues fucking into you. Gadreel replaces his hand with his lips, swallowing your moans as you ride out your release. The moment is cut short by the door being kicked in. You stare in horror as Sam and Dean rush in, guns drawn. Gadreel leaps away from you, eyes wide.

“You ok – holy shit!” Dean squeaks, immediately shielding his eyes and stumbling back. Sam follows suit, closing his eyes and turning away from you. “Sorry – fuck – Jesus –”

“Out!” you scream, making the Winchester's rush out of the room.

–

The night ended as quickly as it began. You both were a little too scarred to keep going, so you decided that cuddling would have to suffice.

You walk stiffly to your car, avoiding Dean's burning glare and fishing out your keys. Even on a bright sunny day, it's bone-chilling. You shiver as you slide into your car, rubbing your hands together with a groan. “Fuck this state,” you growl, flinching as your passenger door is flung open. Gadreel sets your duffle bag in the passenger seat, leaning down and offering you a smile. “Shit, th-thanks,” you say, pushing your key into the ignition. He nods, staring at you silently as you start your car. You meet his gaze, smiling sheepishly. “Last night was...amazing,” you say, flicking your eyes away from him.

“Next time will be better,” he says, shooting you a wink before slamming the door shut. You watch as he walks to the Impala, biting your lip.

“Until then,” you mumble under your breath, grinning and pulling out of the parking lot.

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

#gadreelxreader #supernatural #spn #gadreel fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfictipn #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #gadreel #Oh gadreel #just being all sweet #having a big ol' dick #understanding CONSENT my dear man #beautiful boy #I love you

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mistaeq · 5 years ago

Text

Guido Mista: Just For Fun?

TW // nsfw content !!

Sssooo... this had to be a fic due on Mista's birthday, but I got killed by work and assignments and stuff, and could never manage to finish, but tonight I took a little time and concentrated on it properly before it was really TOO late. Enjoy~ ^_^

Guido Mista having a SPICY time with a neutral!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.04k

It felt so good. Damn, it felt so good. You weren't even sure there was love for you, by his side. But you wouldn't have stopped him for any reason. The gunslinger had come to you to tell you about Bucciarati's orders for the day. You had to show up at Passione's headquarters in a couple of hours, so, just for the sake of not getting bored in the meantime, you invited Mista in your house to have a chat. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, the two of you seemed to have other plans in mind.

The things about the man exploring your body with his gaze, wasn't new to you. You'd been noticing this before, at work, outside, and in general. And it wasn't like you weren't interested in Mista's attention, you just couldn't help but thinking that having relationships with colleagues wasn't the best choice you could make. Little did it matter in that moment, realizing the two of you would have had to make up a believable excuse for your late arrival at Passione's headquarters.

"G-Guido!" bringing your thoughts cruelly back to the present, the gunslinger thrusted inside of your spent hole for one last time, without either of you coming. It had been a strong thrust, without mincing words, not slow and definitely not gentle, rough enough to hear you raise your voice for him. You just liked this thing about Mista being so mercilessly rough, and you couldn't tell you weren't expecting something like this from a man like him. You had stayed still until you felt his shaft come out of your sensitive body. And despite that, you had remained folded on the bed, because you knew him, Guido Mista would have never let you in peace so easily. Oh, he still had so much to do, with your body, after so much time of waiting and pushing it back.

Just in general, he liked to insist and keep going, starting from the most absurd and almost useless things, in any situation, like telling everyone about the fact that Narancia - he had told about it at least five times, once for every Bucciarati Gang member, him and Narancia excluded - had once scared him late at night during a sleepover by his house. The truth is, if we really want to keep a solid and actual comparison, that Mista guy's brains almost worked like his good companion's, Narancia. He probably soaked up some parts of his behavior, too. The most messed up ones, if I'm allowed to say that.

A kind of soul of the party, without them the boredom used to make itself easy to be felt, or in any case it made his absence noticed when nobody laughed or joked, but sexually speaking, to stay in the italian area, there is a valid and comparison with the loud mess you can find in Naples's markets and squares, too. People screaming, people yelling, someone laughing and a neverending music you don't even know where to locate. Oh, and food. Plenty of food. Don't ask an italian to skip a meal, folks. You were now being Guido's three course meal, rather than a snack.

You felt yourself being touched in a way that was anything but chaste by the strong hands of the curly, dark haired boy. It was the representation of a proper Gold Experience, to finally see the hair hidden under that hat of his, and you had to admit that sinking a hand inside of it was amazing. Plus, it perfectly represented his explosive personality. Mista's eighteen years of age - by now - surely influenced his amount of stamina and strength, he had arms that deserved the respect for which they had been designated by his genetic make-up, evidently. As if some foreplay and ministrations were necessary, after the previous hellish - or perhaps heavenly - hour in which nothing else had happened, other than the young italian roughly and ferociously pushing his length into your body, you felt his long and calloused fingers enter your needy hole, not so much time to waste and not many premises to make. Oh good lord.

"Guido..." your soft voice moaned, bending your head forward, then forced to pull it back up when you arched your back due to the sudden but perfect points that the boy's experienced fingers dared to touch.

"Right here...? You want it right here?" he teased. Oh, he had fun teasing. All the gunslinger wanted was to hear you beg for him to give you the pleasure you needed, and he knew where to touch to get you ruined for him. His fingertips grazed against a special spot, once, twice, and he laughed it over, looking at you curling up your fingers everytime, little moans coming out of your throat, your hands gripping on the bedsheets. "Damn tesoro, you're so sensitive..." he said in his hateful, proud, signature mocking tone.

"...O-Oh my god, Guido... this might be the third time you do it... right there..." but that sentence did not last long, considering the gunslinger's intentions, who bent down to use his experienced tongue where before only his fingers were. Fuck that guy and his stupid attitude. Fuck his behavior, fuck his warm tongue, penetrating your needy hole along with his fingers, leaving you speechless and breathless every second more. At least a dozen times, surely, you insulted him, cursing and groaning under the wet and beautiful contact of the boy's lips and tongue as they worked on you. You would have lied, if you said you hadn't dreamt of this before.

Given the position you were now in, when you were too quiet or too noisy for your dirty lover's liking, the size of Mista's hands came in handy, to spank you and startle you enough to react and oblige to his will. He wasn't very gentle, as a sexual character. Let's say that he enjoyed leaving his masterpieces incomplete. Like that orgasm of yours which was very little time apart from exploding, for example. When he withdrew his hands and tongue drom you, you couldn't hold back from complaining... probably too much for the man's liking. "F-Fuck! I was so damn close..." you squealed, disappointed, and let your tongue speak for yourself, shivering because of the current emptiness of your hole. "Why have I chosen to have sex with you... I could have paid someone from the street... or maybe a colleague of yours... hm?"

You had gone too far. At those words, you felt Guido grab your hair in a tight grip. Not too much to seriously hurt you, but enough to fuel your arousal even more. You can't say you haven't obtained exactly what you were looking for. "Excuse me, or better... excuse you, do you mind repeating what you just said, cara/o?" Damn, that turned you on so much. Obey him. Just obey him. You thought, until the brat part of you took over.

"N-no... I ..." you slightly turned towards him, and unexpected as it was, but incredibly hot, his member was right in front of the tip of your nose, right now. You stared at it, bouncing in front of you. Average length, but interesting girth, nothing to say. A good one. You wouldn't have minded to choke on it. "Nothing... I said nothing."

"Nuh-uh, I heard you, little fucker." he pulled you closer to him, his leaking tip now grazing on your cheek, leaving a slightly humid trail behind it. Mista's grip on your hair tightened. "Repeat for me, will you...?" he cooed, faking a soft and calm tone of his voice. Then, he clenched his teeth. "What could you do, you said?" For a split second, you thought about how Bruno was probably waiting for you at Passione's headquarters, and there you were instead, with Mista's cock hanging in front of your face.

"Nothing. I couldn't do anything..."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." with a further squeeze he made you moan and cry out, taking the opportunity to push his leaking member into your mouth. You felt yourself suffocate, Mista had no small one at all, to be completely honest, he was far from it. And you madly liked him, not only for that, also as a person. On a psychological and personal level. Nice, funny, serious when needed - maybe-, and absolutely beautiful. How many people would have sold their soul to the devil, to spend a single night with Naples's forbidden dream - or at least he said so. He probably made it up for his own self-esteem -? He also tasted good, to be honest. Details like those were important, too.

You soon understood that the only way to not to feel too bad with his strength and stamina, was to go along with his desires seriously, and thanks to this little thought that for an hour now had been helping you with Guido's sexual cravings, you brought a hand to the man's member, to help with your hands your work on him. You saw him start to move his hips towards your mouth and back, that choking sensation intensified even more due to the fact that Mista's hips thrusted forward as you bent down on him, yet as much as your eyes could water and tear up, the man's proud moans only hinted at how much it actually excited him, to see you struggle and choke on his length. "Dammit... don't give me those teary eyes... I'm gonna fucking cum." And, deep down, it was a good fuel to your own arousal. But you wouldn't have dared to tell Guido, or you would have made him brag for ages about it.

His movements got to a sudden halt, when the gunslinger reached his high, in the depth of your throat, as his own breath hitched with yours. "Fuck, y/n...!" It was very deep, and due to the choking sensation, your soft face already had two hot, heavy and salty tears running down your cheeks, not really from pain but from exertion, that guttural effort you usually make when you have to throw up, when you yawn and when you cough. Every action that, even if minimal, brings the eyes to that moist, thing layer that, straining even more those feelings, makes it become tiring and uncontrollable tears. You felt Mista's warm cum run down your throat. Still, you took the chance to taste it properly. It was so good. Another thing you wouldn't have told Guido.

It was a different sensation, compared to when you swallowed it down yourself. Or at least it was, in other experiences you had, but you were wondering if it wasn't Guido's presence, making you feel in some sorts of ways. Anyways, by swallowing down yourself, you were fast enough to not to feel the need to cough. But this way, the warm fluid flowed dramatically slowly, along the walls of your throat, down, while you only wondered when you would stop feeling it moving in your lower neck and upper chest. The satisfied look on Mista's face, who was now approaching you again, after having pulled his member out of your tender mouth, spoke by itself, and said a few simple and easily interpretable words on the line of "You will feel this warmth also somewhere else, soon." and perhaps you weren't even really complaining about it.

Even if you hoped for it to not to be that intense and strong. Too bad it would have been such, but Mista knew what he was doing, so you just chose to let him do his thing to you. "...If you do want it, it is." oh. The fact that he made sure you were still agreeing to it, caused a weird warmth to pop up in your chest. Dominant Guido was a good Guido, but respectful Guido was the best version of him. You just smiled, and quickly nodded. Of course you wanted more. You felt your legs get grabbed and opened by strong and calloused hands, you were still ready and sensitive for him, despite all the times you had come for him that evening. And despite all the times he had denied you an orgasm.

He slipped his hard length inside of you without hurting your sensitive hole too much, or maybe it was just you who were already too used to keeping that damned neapolitan inside of your body, for that night. And you thanked God for it, otherwise it would have been quite painful. A beautiful pain, in any case. First thrust, Mista groaned very loudly, clenching his teeth. One day you'll complain to him, about the fact that he'll be expecting too much time from you to dedicate to having sex. "But you can stretch your muscles like this," he'll insist, looking for a bright side or a diversionary way to respond to your grip on him against the wall. You held on the bedsheets and bit your lower lip, keeping a moan from coming out.

Second thrust, even stronger. You began to even pull on the bedheets because of the gunslinger's cock, grazing just on the right spots, the spots only him could brag about being able to find so quickly. Maybe you would have ruined or ripped your own bedsheets. Just maybe. Worse than that time when Narancia and him had decided to become the funny people of the situation, and by folding and shredding Pannacotta's bedsheets, they made some table doilies. Afterwards, Fugo didn't really want to punish them too much, to be honest. Just enough to cause the two of them three or four displaced fractures, but obviously Bruno and Leone wouldn't let him do that either.

Third thrust, Guido had started seriously moaning on his own breathy groans. He sounded like he had started to chuckle on his own voice, and that... well, that was kinda hot. "How... How do you keep on being so tight after all of this... you're just like I dreamt... or even better, I say..." you felt your arousal reach the stars, when you realized Mista had been dreaming of you. Well, you would have lied if you told him you hadn't been dreaming of him as well. But all you could do in that moment, was moan and chuckle with him. He was such a funny man, after all. You thought of that time when, together with Giorno, he had well thought about ordering a dick-shaped pizza for Abbacchio's birthday, the package labeled "For a pissing goth". How were you thinking of this while having sex? Oh my god.

Fourth thrust. You were now trembling, along with moaning. "Fuck, Guido... just like that..." you begged, clenching your teeth and not only. "Make me cum, please..." He was being so damn strong, Mista, in that moment, but thinking about that little, big, funny part of his personality, from the vicissitudes with the Gang - although he almost never admitted to be guilty of those - to his iconic tetraphobia, the fear of number four. This is why, he was pretty fast to thrust inside of you an essential fifth time. And the thrusts that appeared so strong at first, seemed now softer, slower. Slower. And frenzied, because of his own climax approaching him.

"Y-Y/n... cum now...! Fuck... cum for me." How could you even think about resisting to it? You let go and rode your high, followed by him. Witnessing such an intense pleasure and feeling of being filled in such a good way from the neapolitan gunslinger, your body trembled and shivered, your hands scratched and caressed the perfect and imperfect skin of the shoulders of Guido Mista, who, filling you with what was left of his tiredness, he let go and collapsed on your sweaty body. "Thank you... damn... thank you." in that moment, you really hoped he hadn't just took an occasion to have sex or to empty his balls. But your fear disappeared when he lay his head on your chest and let you sink a hand into his dark curls, which were sticking to his sweaty face.

For a while, you stayed there, hoping he wouldn't drift asleep. You wanted to understand what all of that meant for him. Because it genuinely meant a lot for you. You had been waiting for that. All you had to understand was if Guido had been dreaming of you to just get a piece of your ass or a piece of your heart. "Bruno's waiting for us, Mista..." you whispered, but your body language fooled you. Your voice sounded like you wanted to get up and get to Passione's Headquarters, but your legs wrapped around the man's waist told another story.

"I don't really care, if I really have to be honest." the gunslinger mumbled, with a sleepy voice. "I'd go there to just look like a mess. I can't possibly focus on anything else, after a good lovemaking." oh you liked the sound of that. You giggled, that was a hilarious answer, but mostly you chuckled out of joy.

"Lovemaking, huh..." you repeated, stroking his soft, curly hair once more. "So it meant something to you." at your words, you saw Mista's eyes widen and his head get up from your chest. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I... I was lowkey scared you just wanted to get a good time with my ass and let go."

"Me? Just get a good time with your ass?" he pretended to be deeply offended and pouted, making you giggle again. You didn't even mean to express that much joy, but you just felt your heart replenish with feelings. "Who do you think I am? I'm a gentiluomo, I'd never just use a babe like you for sex and nothing more. I'm... a responsible man and shit." yeah, that's just the answer a responsible man would give. But you were satisfied and happy. And amused.

"You know what, Guido... let's just stay here and rest. Bruno can wait." Maybe it was too early to talk about proper love, but you would have had a lot of time, to talk about it.

That is, if Bruno doesn't kill the two of you first.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part five #vento aureo #guido mista #mista x reader #jojo fic

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curiousconch · 5 years ago

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Two Old Friends

Chapter 3 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU).

Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter Synopsis: As Bryce takes Heather in, a facade that he has blocked out for several months begins to disintegrate.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.3k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: None for this chapter, it's pure fluff! (Yay!)

Author’s Notes: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I was listening to Maybe this Time on repeat when I wrote this chapter, I think that song encapsulates it perfectly.

8 months ago

Bryce Lahela was stoked to have been assigned the Ed Farrugia case. He dreamt up of an opportunity like this ever since he graduated top of class from Stanford Law School. It wasn't out of self-ambition, it was part of his grand plan - to go opposite the direction of his white-collar criminal parents.

At first, Bryce's parents was overjoyed when he told them he's pursuing a law degree. It never occurred to them that it was all part of his scheme.

He soldiered on through law school, bagging an internship in the San Francisco DA. When his efforts to build his network provided an opportunity in Boston, he didn't hesitate to pack up his bags and fly across the country, farther away from Hawaii than ever. It was a big risk, but it eventually paid off given how his career imploded once he got the job.

But perhaps the most memorable experience was when he told his parents that he was to become Boston's newest ADA. They were nothing but furious, there were no counting the amount of expletives he heard that day.

No turning back, mom and dad.

The timing to tell them couldn't be more perfect, because it was only a week after they turned over his trust fund, a "graduation gift". He knew it was just a bribe for him to do the dirty legal work to keep them away from prison for free.

After toiling for so many years, he was more than ready to abandon his past behind and start his life over. More than it was revenge, it was Bryce's sweet and merciful justice. No more crosses behind his back, marking him as his parents' criminal son.

That wasn't his reality anymore. So he focused on work and did his best to shine. And shine he did. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was no longer a criminal. In an ironic twist of fate, he was the one putting people behind bars. And he relished in every win.

However, being the Chief DA's golden boy wasn't providing him the opportunity to build new friendships. Although he tried to make friends with his colleagues, he began to be seen as a threat. So for the first year in the big city, he spent his free time partying hard. With his quick rise to fame, everyone wanted a taste of the majestic Bryce Lahela. He didn't hesitate to throw himself into the throng.

And in that fateful sunny morning, he felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. He built the foundations of the State versus Perry case over the weekend, not even taking a single drop of alcohol. With the help of Agent Aveiro, he collected mountains of evidence for his breakthrough day at court. He knew his case was airtight. Today, he plans to put the cherry on top.

Pulling off his sunglasses and tightening his slick striped blue tie, he grabbed his suitcase from the passenger seat and got out of his car.

He strode into Edenbrook Hospital with confidence, getting glances from several attendings and nurses as he walked the hallways. He smirked at each of them back, wondering which one he should make of a mission after he wraps up this case. God, these doctors are hot, he thought, as he slid into one of the elevators. He punched 7, and the button lighted up.

Once he arrived at the right floor, he followed the directions pasted on the walls and eventually found the diagnostics team's office. As he neared the sliding glass doors, he heard an exchange of voices in rapid succession, as if they were discussing something important. As he raised his gaze through the glass, he saw two female doctors and two males. His eyes automatically landed to the young brunette, whose hand is on her waist as she listened intently as the others debated.

His brow quirked a little, a fit of curiosity fleeted through him. She was prettier in personal. Television didn't do her justice.

Immediately shaking off the unnerving attraction, he tapped gently on the glass door. All doctors turned to him. One of the male doctors with piercing blue eyes let him in, he later found out that he was the world-renowned diagnostician, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, the head of the team.

"ADA Bryce Lahela, I'm here for Dr. Heather Song?" he walked into the room exuding confidence, burying the distracted innuendos he was currently having.

In response, she moved forward and offered her hand, smiling brightly at him. "Dr. Heather Song, at your service. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Oh, I bet you do.

He answered mentally, stepping closer to look at her soft features. He took her hand and shook it, returning the warm welcome with a smug look in his face. He couldn't stop thinking about her ever since.

He spent almost the whole day with her, going through her testimony in detail. She spoke in a very confident manner, ascertaining every small observation she made about Travis Perry, and how he raised her suspicions. She also walked him through how she confirmed her theories, and how she decided to report this to the hospital's chief. He was amazed with the way how she mapped out every step, and acknowledged how her actions made the case straightforward and uncomplicated. Certainly controversial and sensational, given that it was involving one of Massachusetts' senators. But getting up close and personal with her that day made him realize that like him, she was at the top of her game.

She was professional and insightful. Bryce was also impressed with how she carried herself. Graceful and poised, yet fierce and tenacious. There were a lot of times that he thought he was hearing himself in the way she talked. And for that reason, he like spending time with her.

Over the course of the next few months, he spent more time with her. It was the perfect opportunity to keep in touch, as she was the star witness after all.

Beyond work, it was easy for him to befriend her. She was warm and open, sensitive and caring. Eventually, she introduced him to her exclusive group of doctors, who readily welcome him.

But he admired her more when she made it her mission to help him with his runaway sister. She went out of her way to spend time with her, bridging the gap between the siblings.

That was when he irreversibly opened up to her, telling her about his past. Making her see through him, who he really was.

And the way that she embraced it without inhibitions was a breathe of fresh air. He never knew he needed someone like her in his life, the one thing to complete his do-over.

It didn't take much for him to he admit to himself that he adored Heather. He felt a deep connection to her, something he never felt for someone else.

But in a sudden turn of events, the hopefulness he had turned out to be just a mere figment of his imagination.

He learned about her relationship with Rafael. Once he saw the way she looked at him, he knew it was time to draw the line.

Ever since, that was all he thought it would be between them - an unexplored and faraway frontier.

Gradually, his presence in her life became nothing more but group hangouts in the form of brunches or night outs in Donahues. He learned to withdraw whenever she and Rafael was around, cautious to not let others know about the way he felt. He himself went back to his string of one night stands.

He kept her at arm's length, repeating to himself that he was contented with the friendship that they had. Yet when he was finally learning to ease her out of his mind, she came crashing back in.

***

Present Day

With warm bowls of noodles in front of them, they caught up with each other's life. Bryce poured them both a glass of white wine to chase down the saltiness off of their taste buds.

"Hm, this certainly is an upgrade from that cheap bottle you had the last time," her mocking voice freed him from his thoughts. He grinned at her, leaning towards her.

"Oooh, I'm not liking your arrogance. Being junior fellow got in your head already?" he teased her, sipping from his own glass. "Has all of your student loans been paid off so you have spare money to buy your own fancy wine?"

"Certainly not. I think you're the one getting ahead of yourself, hotshot. That plaque hit you in the head and made you forgot that you're a just a noob?" Heather quipped back, her index finger pointing to the square-shaped glass on one of the living room shelves.

"Psh. It's not like my colleagues skip a day to remind me of 'my place'," his one hand mimicked air quotes, feigning a look of disgust, invoking a genuine laughter from her, her skin illuminated by the late afternoon sun as she glowed in delight.

They went at it as they ate, exchanging insulting banters, trying to one up each other as they went. It was just the way they were, at ease. Two old friends who loved their careers first, always putting their self in second place.

It was the first time in months that they were together alone, Bryce realized now how much he missed spending time with her.

He didn't want to spoil the mood, but he couldn't shake off his interest on what went down between Rafael and her. He waited a few more moments as they settled into a comfortable silence, running out of casual jokes to throw at the other. He drew a deep breathe, taking up the courage he needed to raise the sore subject.

"So, you and Raf huh?"

He saw her flinch and his heart irked a little. Her hand shivered as she set down the empty glass and grabbed the bottle of wine to refill it.

"He wasn't what I thought he was," she swirled the contents of her glass once it was full, looking distracted. "Apparently, it only took him less than a month to reveal his true self." Bryce nodded opposite her, as she shrugged casually. He saw her bite her lower lip, and instantly felt the hurt she was going through.

Without second thoughts, he approached her and opened his arms, inviting her in.

After a few excruciating seconds of hesitation, she finally leaned in and received his embrace, tears falling. She didn't think there was any left, but Bryce's offer of solace was a comfort she didn't think she needed. Her dams of pain overflowed once again, and with the horrible scare that happened this morning, her resolve to put up a brave face in front of everyone crumbled.

"You know I'll always be here for you, Heath," he whispered to her, his senses being flooded by the familiar jasmine scent of her perfume.

"I know, thank you for that," she replied in a hushed voice. "I'm just... just tired of it all, Bryce, I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. I got you."

He just held her, wishing so hard that one embrace can take all of her fears away. He closed his eyes, letting his beating heart speak for the rest of his unspoken emotions.

He tried to soothe her as he brushed her hair, rubbing the palm of his hand on her shuddering back. His grip tightened with her every sigh, pulling her ever closer.

For the first time in months of keeping his distance, the feelings he had for her, those he tried to bury deep within his heart, started to resurface. He was feeling the way he felt way back then.

In between her deep sighs and sobs, a flood of regrets raced through his mind. His chest constricted, as his thoughts lingered on what could have been.

If I hadn't left her alone. If I just fought for her the first time. If I just have been brave enough to let her know...

But he knew he couldn't what already happened define what should be and what it will be. Just like he dealt with his past, Bryce knew that with enough willpower, he can turn it all around.

He focused forward. A rush of possibilities, a promise of a future, it overwhelmed him.

Maybe this time, it'll be more. She's free now. Maybe now is a better time than before. Maybe now, it won't have to end. Maybe this time, he wouldn't need to let her go.

His heart burned with a fiery resolve and determination.

That late afternoon, when the setting sun's light began to shine upon his face, he decided.

Even the smallest of maybes was more than enough for him. Bryce was willing to risk it for her.

TAGS: @choicesficwriterscreations @ramsey-lahela

@eleanorbloom - I hope I'm doing Bryce justice 😬

#open heart #open heart 2 #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #rafael aveiro #rafael aveiro x mc #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #choices

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criminally--reid · 5 years ago

Text

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :|

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines, but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day.

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance.

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in.

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something.

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation.

"I take it you remember me?"

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough.

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me."

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss."

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you.

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books.

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?"

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?"

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter.

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper.

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-"

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding."

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly.

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them."

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?"

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer."

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too.

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years."

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?"

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off.

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?"

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you."

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-"

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too.

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something."

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink.

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker.

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something."

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?"

"Café Negra-"

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?"

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?"

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?"

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop.

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away.

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same.

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished.

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways.

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his.

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end.

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact.

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper.

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears.

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.”

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?”

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax.

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction.

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?”

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat.

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?”

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #gay #mlm #x reader #self insert fanfic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #cm #smut #fluff #spencer reid x reader #🕯anon

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yetanotherfanficblog · 5 years ago

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PANGLOSSIAN

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Pyotyr Ilych (Male Duskwight Elezen WoL OC), Aymeric de Borel. Aymeric/Male WoL.

Rating/Warnings: T (Sexual Situations)

Summary: The Warrior of Light settles into domestic life at his husband's mansion in Ishgard. Set in an imagined peaceful era post-Shadowbringers, but spoilers only really apply up through the end of Heavensward. Written for Prompt #18 of FFXIV Write 2020.

---

The first time Pyotyr had insisted on cooking for himself at the Borel Mansion, his husband was slightly confused, but supportive and intrigued, and his husband's servants ran the gamut from scandalized to absolutely beside themselves with laughter to very excited to have an evening off. Pyotyr however, insisted he was serious to any doubters, saying, "Noble by Adoption and Marriage or not, I'm still just a common country doctor at heart! I've cooked my own meals, done my own laundry, and made my own way for decades, and I can't just quit all that right off, now, can I?"

Thus, on this particular day, for far from the first time, Pyotyr Ilych had once again shooed his husband's servants from the kitchen, and immediately taken to bustling about, stoking a fire, and gathering various spices and foodstuffs from various cabinets and cupboards. And thus, by the time Aymeric returned from the House of Lords, he found him there. Apparently content to watch, he leaned against the doorframe to see the cook in action.

Pyotyr, in the meantime, flitted from place to place, absorbed in his culinary dance. After chopping up a few stalks of celery and a large, yellow onion, he leaned up over the counter to pluck a few springs of thyme and a few bay leaves from the herb rack overhead, before finally turning to the cauldron hanging over the stove to fish out some browned meat and dump in the onions and a few bulbs of garlic into the pot instead.

From helping his mother prepare dinner at their old seaside shack, to mess duty on board the Pomona, to scrounging dinner for himself and his daughters almost every night for years, Pyotyr had found that he enjoyed the rhythm of the kitchen, and the poetry of the product of the labor: disparate ingredients, mixed just right, to create something predictable,yet slightly different every time, a wonder of taste and discovery, the ultimate alchemy.

As the wondrous smell of garlic and onion began to fill the kitchen, he finished his preparation: Meat went back in the pot, a bowl of tomatoes he'd crushed earlier poured on top of that, the rest of the vegetables and a bit of water and a pour from a jug of cooking wine after that, then the thyme and bay leaves (He'd already added salt and pepper to the meat earlier, of course - Ishgard might prefer their salt in rocks, but Limsa knew to add it to the dish!), check the fire, lean back against the counter, wipe your brow, and await the fruit of your labors.

It was only then, as Pyotyr beamed at the bubbling pot in satisfaction, that Aymeric rose off the doorframe and stepped into the kitchen. Pyotyr looked over, eyes slightly wide in surprise, and quickly strode the length of the kitchen to wrap his arms around Aymeric and bestow a kiss on his cheek.

"Aymeric," he said, warmth and happiness in his voice and his face alike, "I'm sorry I didn't see you there earlier! Welcome home, my dear."

"'Tis good to be home, Pyotyr," Aymeric said in return, arms around his husband's waist, forehead pressed to his forehead for a moment, "And think nothing of it. 'Twas I who hung back to watch you work rather than announce myself. Whether on the Battlefield or in the Kitchen, I am always awestruck and transfixed to watch you in your element."

"Flatterer..." Pyotyr answered, his voice a murmur, his cheeks blushing as he wrapped his arms around his husband's neck. They stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying being close to each other again after a long day.

"So," Aymeric broke the silence first, "How was the Scholasticate?"

"Oh!" Pyotyr said, lighting up with a smile, "It was wonderful! There was a young lady from the Brume who came to sign up today. She attended my first lecture, and she had so many interesting, piercing questions about Arcane Rune theory! I've already given her a reading list and she sounded so eager to dive into it. I am so glad you expanded the scholasticate and opened it up to everyone. There are so many bright minds among the common folk that will get chances they might never have had."

Aymeric smiled back, "I'm glad to hear it. These years of peace will only last if we allow all of Ishgard's children to partake of its fruits. The noble houses have hoarded too much for too long."

"It always cheers me to hear you speak so, my ravishing revolutionary," Pyotyr laid his head on Aymeric's shoulder for a moment, "And speaking of, the House of Lords didn't given you too much trouble today, I hope?"

"Dzemael is up to their usual complaints," Aymeric said, "but it is nothing I can't handle. I think even Durendaire is finally coming around to the new ways, and the reconstruction bill the Commons put forth is so airtight, I don't think even Dzemael will be able to vote against it in good faith."

Pyotyr chuckled, "Hm. I'm sure they received some wonderful guidance and advice, to write such an airtight document."

Aymeric looked innocent, "Well, if the common machinists at Skysteel Manufactory heard some things from Sir Stephanivien, and Hilda happened to overhear my discussion with Lucia regarding the Dzmael's complaints regarding the taxes on Falcon's Nest, I can't say what they might have done with that information..."

Pyotyr blinked innocently, "Oh, the things people will do with idle chatter indeed."

After another beat, Pyotyr kissed his husband's cheek one more time,

"Thank you," He murmured into his ear, softly, lowly.

"Thank you? For what?"

"For this. For everything. After so many years of struggle, to think that I'm here, in the arms of the man I love, in the house we live in together, with nothing spread out before us but lives to build together and a hard fought peace to enjoy. I do not know what the future may bring, but right now, I cannot imagine a more perfect world."

"I am glad," Aymeric said, "For I feel the same. But come, am I right in thinking the stew will keep on its own for a while?"

"It will," Pyotyr said, his voice a murmur as he hung happily off his husband, "Why?"

Aymeric began to walk, his steps guiding Pyotyr back toward a nearby table, then, leaning back, back over the table. Finally, Aymeric answered him.;

"Because," he said, "That just means I shall have to sate my hunger in other ways for now."

Pyotyr blushed and chuckled, reaching up to undo the first button on his shirt collar, "I take it back, what I said earlier. NOW it's perfect."

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #aymeric de borel #aymeric #aymeric-x-male-wol #aymeric-x-wol #ffxivwrite #fanfic

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ibijau · 5 years ago

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Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Things do not go as planned in Nightless City. Lan Wangji worries. Nie Huaisang plots.

warning for some violence (canon typical levels I’d say?)

Nightless City had never been Lan Wangji’s favourite place to travel to, but after years of abandonment, it had become truly ghoulish. In certain places, the lingering resentment was so strong it became nearly impossible to breathe. In the bitter wind, Lan Wangji thought he could still hear the shrill notes of Chenqing playing a deadly melody. In every shadow, he half saw the shape of Wei Wuxian, fractured by too many losses, on the verge of shattering beyond repair, taking hundreds down with him.

Lan Wangji could have happily lived to immortality and never set foot again in this cursed city. It must have shown. Several times, Nie Huaisang tried to order him away, saying he was perfectly capable of handling his brother’s body, even if Nie Mingjue really had turned into a fierce corpse and needed to be subdued.

“I’m not much of a cultivator, but even I can take care of a fierce corpse,” he boasted again and again with an empty smile. “Go wait for me in the nearest town, Wangji. It’s a family problem anyway, and I’ve made you help enough already.”

“We’re family,” Lan Wangji said at last, when he grew tired of his husband trying to send him away.

After this, Nie Huaisang grew quiet and stopped insisting that he could do this alone.

It wasn’t until they arrived to the spot marked on the map that Lan Wangji understood where, exactly, his brother-in-law’s remains had been hidden. He felt nauseous at being once more in front of Wen Ruohan’s palace, where the remains of the Wen siblings had been scattered to the winds, Wei Wuxian’s last friends, the last people he had cared about.

The place where the entire cultivation had united together, just as tightly as they had during the Sunshot Campaign, and announced that they had decided who their next enemy would be. The place where Wei Wuxian’s death had been decided, where he had lost what little he still had and snapped over the bloodied corpse of his sister. The place where…

“Hey, stay with me,” Nie Huaisang called to him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling lightly, the way A-Yuan did sometimes. “So, this is the right place, uh? Heavens, it looks even worse than in my memories. Remember that archery contest, at that last conference the Wens held? Damn, I remember the party after, it was so awful. The alcohol was so cheap. Talk about disrespecting your guests! Ah, not that it’d matter to you, of course. I wonder how the tea was?”

“Bad,” Lan Wangji managed to answer, taking one shaky breath after another. “Cheap.”

“I knew it! And the food was awful as well. There was that weird dessert… did you have any of the desserts?”

Lan Wangji dived under more recents memories and tried to remember that conference. It felt a lifetime ago. It was, in a way. They had all been different before the war. Sometimes, it all felt like a dream. And in that dream, he could not remember whether he’d eaten the dreadful desserts Nie Huaisang apparently recalled with such clarity. Thinking about it helped a little, though, forcing him to focus on something other than his last visit to Nightless City.

“No desserts,” he still said, since that seemed likely. He took a deep breath. Now was not the moment to break. He could do that later, when they had recovered Nie Mingue’s body and Nie Huaisang no longer needed his help. “Give me a moment. Then I will see if his soul can be reached.”

“Should I be silent, or keep talking?”

“Hm. Tell me more about the desserts,” Lan Wangji ordered, looking around for a place where he might sit without covering himself in filth.

With Nie Huaisang still clinging to his sleeve, he found a spot at last, not far from where his brother and the other sect leaders had stood to… but no. Lan Wangji pushed away that memory, and forced himself to listen to Nie Huaisang’s graphic description of what he claimed were the worst tanghulu he’d ever eaten in his life. The mindless chatter only stopped when he took out his guqin and played a few notes, bringing him if not peace, then at least clarity.

"I will try Inquiry," he announced.

"You think it will work on Da-ge?"

"No," Lan Wangji admitted, and immediately something crumbled in Nie Huaisang. "There are other spirits lingering here. One might help."

Lan Wangji played the notes that commanded souls to come talk to him. In an instant he found himself surrounded with the screams and rage of all those who had perished in this cursed city. Several ceremonies had been performed to put them to rest, but with so many having died, and in such a violent manner, it had not yet been enough to calm them.

In vain, Lan Wangji tried to call forth the soul of Nie Mingjue. All that brought him was a dissonant mass of spirits trying to seize his guqin, either praising or cursing his brother-in-law for his actions in Nightless City. Lan Wangji played a few more notes to calm them before trying a different question. Had they seen Jin Guangyao come to this place in the past year?

Less spirits rushed to him this time, and Lan Wangji was able to select the strongest one among them to answer, one single word.

Yes.

The spirit, a fallen Nie disciple, had trained alongside Jin Guangyao during his time in Qinghe Nie and thus knew him very well. He had no doubt that it was him, having caught a glimpse of his face. After further interrogation, it revealed that Jin Guangyao had come there to bury something, and it was able to give the precise location, hidden under a large paving stone. Lan Wangji thanked the spirit, promised to see what could be done about another calming ceremony, and turned to his husband to share the news.

"Let me guess, he hid Da-ge's body under the spot where they took the oath, didn't he?"

"Hm."

"Theatrical bastard," Nie Huaisang hissed. "Wangji, if you want, I'll handle the rest alone. I can manage."

Lan Wangji shook his head.

"A fierce corpse is not a person. What we find might attack you."

"But still…"

"I won't let A-Yuan be orphaned again."

That cut short to all of Nie Huaisang’s protests, as Lan Wangji expected it would.

Together, and with both of them equally uneasy though for different reasons, they went to the spot indicated by the spirit. It was barely visible if one did not look for it, but among the paving stones there was one that appeared to have been unsealed.

Without saying it, Lan Wangji knew that Nie Huaisang and him were thinking the same thing: that stone did not look large enough to cover a body, let alone that of a man as tall as Nie Mingjue. Still they knelt on the ground and got to work, carefully lifting the stone, then digging the soil under until they found a box.

That box itself was nothing special. It was made of black wood and carried no particular mark. And yet powerful dark energies surrounded it, barely contained by a great number of peculiar talismans drawn in blood.

"I've never seen those talismans before," Nie Huaisang commented in a weak voice, clearly trying to ignore the more glaring issue. That box that was little more than the length of Lan Wangji's arm.

"I have," Lan Wangji announced, though he could not quite remember where he might have seen them. "It will come to me."

Nie Huaisang nodded weakly. He brought one hand toward the box, as if to brush his fingers against the wood, but stopped short of touching it.

"Wangji… That box… It's really too small, isn't it?" he whispered. “Do you think… do you think he cremated him?”

“Hm.”

It was a likely possibility. It would have eliminated any traces of the crime, and made it far more difficult to summon Nie Mingjue’s soul to testify regarding his own death.

It would definitely have required an accomplice though, because the fierce corpse of such a man would not have allowed itself to be destroyed so easily, and Jin Guangyao’s cultivation was what it was. Besides, the talismans on the box did not look like ordinary ones. There were few methods that called for the characters to be drawn in blood, and currently the most famous one was Wei Wuxian’s demonic path. Considering that Lanling Jin had been the one to get its hands on most of Wei Wuxian’s notes, that they had infamously hired a person such as Xue Yang to make sense of those…

“That talisman, isn’t it different from the others?” Nie Huaisang suddenly pointed out. “Look, it has one stroke less than the others.”

Before Lan Wangji could stop him, Nie Huaisang reached for the faulty talisman. As soon as he touched the paper it consumed itself, allowing an intense burst of resentful energy to be released from the box. Nie Huaisang cried out in surprise or pain, while Lan Wangji, acting on sheer instinct, jumped to his feet and drew his sword. Before Bichen was fully out of its sheath, the box’s lid was shattered as a lone arm burst out of its confinement.

In the split second it took Lan Wangji to comprehend what was happening, the arm launched itself at Nie Huaisang’s throat since he was closest, and alternated between trying to strangle him and clawing at his skin. It did not stop its assault until Lan Wangji slashed at it with his sword, distracting it from its victim. For a moment the arm, as if enraged, tried to attack Lan Wangji, blindly clawing in his direction and narrowly avoiding being cut to pieces by Bichen. Quickly though, it lost interest in that fight. Twice Lan Wangji managed to stop it, but in the end the arm avoided his attacks and returned to assault Nie Huaisang who was still kneeling on the ground, trying to stop the gashes on his throat from bleeding out.

Nie Huaisang screamed in terror and pain when that ghoulish arm seized his own, digging its claws into his flesh.

The arm was not merely tearing at him now, but instead dug its fingers into the skin of Nie Huaisang as if it sought to get under it. With each passing second, the poor man fought a little more weakly, his skin growing paler until Lan Wangji took his guqin again and hurriedly played a song to calm the arm. It took effort, and a few tries, but after a few minutes he managed to pacify the arm. It fell to the ground, as did Nie Huaisang, pale and whimpering in pain but still alive.

Keeping an eye on the now immobile arm, Lan Wangji hurried to Nie Huaisang’s side and used every bit of spiritual energy he could spare to stop the bleeding. Even when he was done, Nie Huaisang would not stop trembling and crying.

When his eyes fell on the arm, he screamed in rage and horror, the noises resonating in those vast, empty spaces.

“I have to get him back,” Nie Huaisang hissed in a broken voice when he calmed down. “And then I’m killing every single Jin in Lanling.”

“You won’t.”

“I certainly want to! They butchered him! No, not even butchered,” He corrected with a hysterical laugh. “Butchering, that calls for skill. I could cut a body better than that and I will when I get my hands on Guangyao! I’ll dig up his mother and father and show him how it’s done, I will...”

“Huaisang, calm down.”

“My brother! They took my brother and did this to him, and you want me to calm down? If it were Xichen, if it were A-Yuan, would you be calm? I’ll make them pay! Every single one of them, I’ll make them pay!”

Unsure what to do when faced with such desperate rage, Lan Wangji forced himself to put a hand on his husband’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. His hand was slapped away. Nie Huaisang had too little strength left at the moment for it to sting, but the message was clear. Comfort, for now, was not welcome.

Instead, Lan Wangji turned his attention back to the box and, having seen its content, he realised where he had seen those talismans before. They were eerily similar to those Wei Wuxian had used to contain Wen Ning before his conscience was returned to him. They were not quite as neat as the ones he had seen during his brief visit to the Burial Mounds, and if anything, they seemed to have been traced by someone who had only the vaguest idea of the proper way to write characters, but they were still the same ones.

“Demonic cultivation,” he announced to Nie Huaisang, hoping to distract him from his rage. “To contain and conceal.”

Nie Huaisang did not answer, his eyes fixed on the arm. He reached out for it and, with some hesitation, picked it up to hold it against his chest, cradling it as if it were a child.

“We can try the spell again,” Lan Wangji offered. “We might find the rest of him. Even if we do not, this is proof something evil was done to him.”

“He got rid of Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, tightening his hold on his brother’s arm.

“Hm?”

“Guangyao. He got rid of Xue Yang. You say this is demonic cultivation, and Xue Yang was the only person they’d found who was able to make sense of Wei Wuxian’s work. He wasn’t purging his sect and starting anew, he was getting rid of witnesses.”

“It is still proof.”

Nie Huaisang laughed. “Proof of what? The spell we used to find it is a secret Nie technique, it’d be easy to say we lied about its effects, or that I tricked you and used you for my nefarious plans. This arm could be anyone’s. I know it is my brother’s, I know it, but it’ll be my word against Guangyao’s. People don’t like him, but I think they like me even less.”

An unfair statement, in Lan Wangji’s opinion. Lan Xichen believed and trusted them. Jiang Wanying probably had more sympathy for and trust in Nie Huaisang than in his brother-in-law’s half brother who had just usurped his nephew’s inheritance. The older Madam Jin might share that sentiment.

But all that, of course, was on a personal level. Lan Wangji was starting to accept that natural inclination, and things as unquantifiable as honesty and truth, did not matter as much as his sect’s rules had led him to believe.

“We find the rest of his body,” Lan Wangji insisted. “When we are away from this place, I will try Inquiry again. We will find proof.”

Nie Huaisang appeared unconvinced by that promise, for which Lan Wangji could not blame him. After a shock such as this, hope would have been difficult to muster even for a man not already as close to despair as Nie Huaisang was.

They left Nightless City after carefully replacing the paving stone where it belonged and taking great pains to hide that it had been moved. The box they took with them, so they could inspect it later at their leisure to look for clues. The arm, of course, came as well.

It took Lan Wangji great efforts to persuade Nie Huaisang to put the arm back in its box, and to put that box in a qiankun bag so it would be easier to transport. Even then, Nie Huaisang insisted to be the one to carry it, clinging to it as tightly as he had done with the arm itself.

Nie Huaisang did not speak on their way out of the city. He did not speak when they stopped for the night at a small, struggling inn that still survived on the outskirts of Nightless City. He did not speak when Lan Wangji used the different Nie spells he had been taught in a fruitless attempt to locate the rest of the body. The rest of Nie Mingjue must have been better sealed. If not for that mistake with one of the talismans, it was likely that they would never have found even this much.

As promised, Lan Wangji attempted to play Inquiry for the arm. It was all in vain, and Nie Huaisang remained eerily silent. The only sound he made all evening happened when the arm, which had stood perfectly still so far, started moving its fingers of its own accord and appeared to point in his direction. Nie Huaisang cried out and nearly fell down in fear, but before anything could happen Lan Wangji quickly calmed the arm once more, this time putting more power into it so that hopefully it would not trouble them again until the next evening.

When Nie Huaisang went to bed, he took with him the qiankun bag, as if scared that someone might take his brother from him again. In the morning, he looked somehow more tired than when he had gone to sleep, and remained uncharacteristically quiet.

That silence remained as they made their way to the Cloud Recesses where they needed to see Lan Xichen and announce that their plan was not going quite as smoothly as they had all expected. It was unsettling to see Nie Huaisang so quiet when Lan Wangji had never known him as anything but loud and animated both at the heights of his joy and in the depths of his pain. And yet, Lan Wangji did not know how to comfort his friend. All he could do was offer his presence, and be ready to help, should it be asked.

When they arrived in the Cloud Recesses, their first stop was to pick up their son. There was no shyness this time, but a lot of tears as A-Yuan left Hou Tianjian's side and ran into his father’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck nearly tight enough to choke him. It was good, after those difficult weeks, to be home and have his son with him again. Nightless City had reminded him bitterly of his errors, but at least A-Yuan was proof that he had not entirely failed Wei Wuxian.

When A-Yuan noticed that Nie Huaisang was there as well, he made it clear that he wanted to be in the other man’s arms now. Nie Huaisang indulged him but made a great show of complaining and lamenting that the little boy was starting to get too heavy for him. A-Yuan appeared very amused by those protests, but grew serious when his eyes fell on Nie Huaisang’s neck where he still bore marks of the arm's attack.

“Nie-ge is hurt?”

Nie Huaisang laughed awkwardly, and balanced A-Yuan against his hip so he could free one hand and pull his collar tighter against his skin.

“That's nothing,” he said with a too wide smile. “Your Nie-ge is clumsy and fell into some bushes. Let's not talk about it, right? It's very embarrassing for poor Nie-ge.”

“Does it hurt?” A-Yuan insisted, reaching out towards some of the scabs that couldn't quite be covered by the fabric. Nie Huaisang grasped his wrist and stopped him before he could touch.

“The worst wound is to my pride,” he replied with false assurance. “A-Yuan, I love you but you're too heavy. Go back with your dad now.”

“Nie-ge looks tired,” A-Yuan commented as he was handed back to Lan Wangji. “Did Nie-ge and Father work a lot?”

What little cheerfulness Nie Huaisang had managed to muster thus far appeared on the verge of collapsing, and so Lan Wangji took it upon himself to come to his rescue.

“We were busy,” he explained. “We flew from very far and for many days. It can be tiring.”

None of it was a lie, even if it was far from the entire truth. It seemed to satisfy A-Yuan who even took it as his chance to ask whether he too would soon learn to fly on his sword. Lan Wangji thanked Hou Tianjian for her help, gave in to her request that Lan Jingyi come play in the Jingshi someday, and then the three of them left together. The rest of the day passed not unpleasantly, with A-Yuan detailing everything he had done since Lan Wangji had last seen him. It was painful to know that he had missed several weeks of his son's life, but A-Yuan did not appear to resent his absence too much this time. Somehow, that made it worse, as if the child had just grown to accept that it was normal for him to be left behind.

As the bell of curfew rang, there was a knock on the Jingshi's door. Lan Wangji, after checking that A-Yuan had truly fallen asleep, went to welcome his visitor. It was no surprise to find his brother on his doorstep. In truth, they probably should have gone to see him as soon as they had arrived in Cloud Recesses, but without ever saying it, Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji had agreed that being with A-Yuan was more important. Their quest had met little success, but their son needed to know they hadn't abandoned him.

Lan Xichen took one look at the both of them, and his face hardened.

“I gather that things did not go as we had hoped?”

Nie Huaisang, who had been sitting at the table, a fan in one hand and a book in the other, flinched at the question. He dropped the book and immediately grasped to the qiakun bag that he still refused to be parted from, except for when Lan Wangji was forced to calm the resentful arm it contained.

“The situation is more complicated than expected,” Lan Wangji stated, inviting his brother to sit before launching himself into a short explanation of what had happened, wanting to spare Nie Huaisang from having to recount those events. Even just hearing an account of what had happened seemed nearly too much for his husband who grew paler and more closed off as the explanation reached its end.

Lan Xichen hardly fared any better.

“I cannot believe Jin Guangyao would go so far,” he whispered in a trembling voice. “Doing something so horrific to a man he once called his brother...”

Sitting next to him, Lan Wangji patted his brother's shoulder. After days of dealing with Nie Huaisang's worsening mood, it was almost shocking when the comforting gesture was not rejected.

“Maybe we can act even with this alone,” Lan Xichen suggested with a sigh. “It is not the strongest case we could be making, but...”

“I am not taking risks,” Nie Huaisang hissed, grasping his fan tightly. “This isn't enough proof. I cannot... I will not take the risk of accusing him now. He'll just find some new lies to throw around and look for ways to destroy the rest of Da-ge's body and then he'll have won. I can let him gloat a little longer with his perfect sect, his perfect wife and his perfect son. I'm patient. I'll find my brother's body, and that will be proof, and then nothing will stop me from avenging Da-ge.”

“Huaisang, it might take a long time,” Lan Xichen objected. “And you will have to interact with him frequently. Can you manage that?”

“Of course. Er-ge should know better than anyone that I'm quite good at not showing when things affect me.”

There was something nearly cruel to Nie Huaisang's smile as he said that, and he appeared to enjoy the way Lan Xichen tensed at the veiled accusation.

“We must use that other corpse finding spell,” Lan Wangji intervened to ease the tension and get them back on track. “If Huaisang is willing to teach me, I will go to Qinghe with A-Yuan and...”

“That won't be necessary,” Nie Huaisang cut him. “Not yet, anyway. That last spell is... cumbersome, it requires a lot of preparation and certain... elements to be gathered.” He snickered. “Actually, that spell is almost outright demonic cultivation, if I'm honest. I'd rather you not be there as I get it started, although I will need your high cultivation to really get it going when the time comes. But until then, I'd prefer if you stayed in the Cloud Recesses. It's A-Yuan's home, and yours as well.”

“You should not be left alone,” Lan Wangji objected.

Nie Huaisang shrugged, but did not try to deny that statement. That only served to worry Lan Wangji even further and judging by the look on his face, Lan Xichen felt similarly.

“Huaisang, we are on your side,” he said softly, reaching out to take his brother-in-law's hand. “Let us help you.”

Lan Xichen's hand was slapped away.

“This isn't your problem. Da-ge was my brother, my family, my responsibility,” Nie Huaisang snapped, before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to smile as he fanned himself. “I hope that didn't sound ungrateful. I am so, so thankful for your help, especially Wangji. But I have asked so much already, and this spell... it really is too much, considering Lan rules. I'd rather not bother you with the details, since they would displease you. Honestly, they displease me as well, and I know Da-ge disliked this spell, as did our father. But sometimes, there is no choice, is there?” Nie Huaisang chuckled lightly, his smile turning vicious again. “It's not like I can grab San-ge or Xue Yang and shake them until they tell me what they did to my brother.”

“Some of the purged demonic cultivators have been exiled, not killed,” Lan Xichen remarked. “Perhaps one of them might know something. Mo Xuanyu lives not far from Gusu, I could visit him.”

Nie Huaisang appeared to give that idea some thought, his fan stilling in his hand.

“Anyone who knew anything useful will have been killed,” he eventually remarked, hiding behind his fan. “And San-ge always said Mo Xuanyu was an idiot, so I'd be surprised if he had really dealt with any demonic cultivation. More likely, it's just a convenient excuse to get rid of another candidate to leadership of Lanling Jin. I'm ready to bet that stupid kid has been accused of every crime under the sun in Carp Tower. It is useless for Er-ge to go meet him, he will not have anything interesting to tell us. No, the spell is our only chance. It will find Da-ge... in time.”

Lan Xichen nodded, but appeared disappointed that his attempt to help had been so quickly rejected. Considering how little else he could do due to his position and the guilt he held regarding his part in the murder, Lan Wangji imagined his brother would have been glad to do anything to help in any way. Ultimately though, Nie Huaisang was right: Nie Mingjue had been his brother, and it was his duty to avenge him. They could offer their help, but he had to accept it.

Besides, although Lan Wangji was asked to continue living in the Cloud Recesses, so far Nie Huaisang had said nothing against visiting Qinghe. Even if he later objected to the idea, Lan Wangji would simply ignore him and go anyway. A-Yuan would surely start missing his Nie-ge too much otherwise, and Nie Huaisang loved the boy so much that he would not be able to protest once they were there.

Lan Wangji had made mistakes in the past, but he would not allow another friend of his to self destroy in the name of righteousness.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #burn it down au #jau writes #this is another long chapter oops #but hey on the plus side we're definitely getting closer to wwx's return #which all things considered is only mildly to be counted as good news

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izaswritings · 5 years ago

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all that’s left in the world | chapter five

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: references to past canonical character death, self-esteem issues, vague descriptions of an apocalyptic event (Shinjuku at the moment of Inversion, etc), and Joshua, again. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

part five: joshua

Joshua opens his eyes to a wasteland.

Beside him Shiki Misaki has fallen to her knees in the dust and dirt, hacking up half a lung; Joshua politely gives her a moment to collect herself like the very considerate and understanding person he is, and steps forward, scanning their surroundings with a frown. Empty streets filled with white dust that clings to his hand like snow; the air smells of nothing, devoid even of the stench of smoke. A low fog has settled over the city, so gray and dense it could be mistaken for a storm, the buildings vacant shells and the roads worn smooth and featureless. It’s more than a ghost town—it’s a city hollowed, its heart destroyed, and Joshua frowns momentarily, picking up his phone, fiddling with the settings.

For the first time, no call goes through. “Interesting,” Joshua decides, and tugs at one lock of hair, twining the strand around his finger.

“W-what is?” Shiki asks, and Joshua tilts his head and snaps his phone closed. Her breath catches. Ah, she’s noticed the city. “Where are we?”

“Shinjuku, I believe,” Joshua says, and even though he’d guessed as much the sight makes him frown, disgruntled. Joshua’s always liked a good Game, but this one promises to try his patience. “Well. What’s left of it, anyway.”

Her eyes scan the wasteland, expression faltering. “That’s impossible,” she says, though she seems half-convinced already. Quick to adapt, isn’t she? Maybe this partnership 2.0 won’t be so boring after all. “That’s... how could this be Shinjuku?”

“Inversion,” Joshua sighs, and when Shiki’s brow furrows at the term he giggles and waves his hand. “A UG phrase. The RG and UG have merged here. The planes have gotten all tangled together—too many frequencies at once.” And, actually, liable to give Joshua a headache. He misses Shibuya’s song already. Ironic, considering his plans for it just last month. “Noise manifest in the RG, reality gets unstable...”

She’s pale. “And this is where Neku is?”

“Mm-hmm.” Joshua shrugs. “Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...” Joshua blinks at her, but Shiki has already stepped away, looking up and down the empty street. “I don’t understand. Where are all the people? And the stores...” She peers into a shop window and blinks fast. “Huh?”

“Oh?” Joshua steps up beside her, peering through the window, and then leans back, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised. “My, my. That’s certainly something.”

The shop is empty. Not just devoid of people, but of anything—the mannequins stripped featureless and bare, even the fake features wiped away. The hangers hold nothing. The stands are empty. Even the picture frames on the wall, the art and decor put up just for flavor, have become hollow, the frames undecorated, the pictures turned to white noise.

Joshua lifts his hand, curious, and presses it against the glass. Against the blank slate of the store, he and Shiki and the colors they wear seem almost like a spotlight. Shinjuku is grey and cold around them, featureless and repetitive. Scrubbed clean of any life at all.

Joshua takes his hand back, frowning outright now. “Hm.”

“That’s so creepy,” Shiki says, drawing back a step. She shivers. “It’s like... anything that would have stood out, or anything that would have meant something...”

“A clean slate,” Joshua agrees, and rests his chin in his hand, thoughtful.

Shiki looks away, apparently unable to keep looking into the empty shop for long. “Is this... normal?” she asks, squinting up at the sky, like if she tries hard enough she’ll be able to see the sun. “For, uh... Inversions?”

Joshua giggles. “I have no idea.” It’d be a delightful mystery, if the situation weren’t so dire. He sobers. “This is the first time I’ve seen it myself. Though, I will admit...” He casts a glance at the sky, too. His eyes narrow. For a moment, there in the clouds... hm. “This doesn’t quite match up with the stories I’ve heard.”

“Creepy,” Shiki repeats.

“Quite.”

She rubs at her arms. “...Let’s go look for Neku.”

Ah, yes. Neku.

Joshua looks back at the shop, no longer smiling. His reflection in the display glass is pale and dim, faintly opaque. As if he isn’t quite there at all. He rubs at his arm, and wonders what Shiki would say if he told her Composers weren’t meant to stay outside of Their city.

Well, what’s done is done—he’s agreed to this, after all, and her reaction probably won’t be all that entertaining. Shiki Misaki, Joshua thinks, is too accepting. Adaptable to an annoying degree. At least Neku had a few moments of wanting to strangle someone before he compromised.

How funny, he thinks. The memory almost makes him want to smile, except he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

In the dusty glass of the shop window, his own expression looks strange to him. Joshua turns away. He shakes his head and tugs at one bang, then drops his hand and sighs. “Yes,” he says, light. “Works for me. Lead the way, dear.”

She frowns at him, and he smiles back at her uncertain side-eye. And as Shiki picks her way across the city, and Joshua trails after her, he curls his hands to a careful fist, feeling the quiet tremor in his fingers with every step away from Shibuya, and cheerfully pretends that it hasn’t started after all.

It doesn’t take long for the first problem to rear its head. Ten minutes into the Game, Joshua and Shiki encounter their first Noise—and unlike how Noise are supposed to act, this one attacks on sight.

Joshua would suspect Taboo Noise, but no: normal Noise, just ten times more bloodthirsty. Shinjuku is getting more bothersome by the minute.

It takes a moment for them to work together—Joshua is back to summoning beams of light from his cellphone; Shiki apparently likes using her stuffed animal to rip the opposing side to shreds—but in the end, they sync up rather well, if Joshua is any judge. The Noise are nothing but static by the end. Joshua is half-way pleased. He’s missed this.

Shiki doesn’t look nearly so happy, however. At the end of their most recent battle, she kneels in the dust with the cat toy in her lap, staring down at it almost despondently. Joshua weighs his options, sighs, and goes to stand over her shoulder.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“Maybe.” She opens her hands, glumly; Joshua looks down and tilts his head. “I forgot. Mr. Mew has a ripped seam. He’s fine for me to carry him, but...”

On second look... Joshua can see it. He presses his lips. “I hope you don’t expect me to do all the work,” he warns, coolly. “I hate working up a sweat, and this endeavor was your idea, Shiki.”

If she’s bothered by the over-familiar use of her first name, it barely even seems to register. Then again, she did offer. “Maybe I could stitch him up?” she wonders. “But I don’t have the right thread... I was going to buy some tomorrow...”

Joshua frowns at her, but Shiki isn’t even looking at him, mumbling under her breath. After a moment, he sighs—and reaches out, picking away one of the pins she’s clipped to her cardigan. He turns it in his hands, thoughtful. “Do you have any idea how you control him?”

She glances at him, startled, then looks uncertain. “Eh...”

He giggles, and flashes the pin at her. “Groove Pawn,” he tells her. “It’s a form of psychokinesis. You didn’t know?”

“Really?” She glances at the stuffed toy in her hands. “It always felt more like Mr. Mew was just doing his own thing.”

Interesting. “Maybe so, but without you to provide guidance, it wouldn’t be nearly as effective. It could be that your familiarity with the medium creates a stronger control of it... less direct commands, and more obeying of the implied commands—what you know you need?” Joshua tugs at his hair. “Hmm. You made him, yes?”

“Mr. Mew?” She hugs the stuffed animal to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

Joshua’s getting an idea. He smiles. “And your clothes?”

“I made those too, but why...?” She trails off, eyes widening. “You think—?”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

She studies her sleeves, frowning slightly, considering. “I don’t know...”

“Try it,” Joshua cajoles. “Your pins will work here. The one nice thing about the merge between planes is that the Noise frequency isn’t needed to activate the pins. Lucky you.” Which is perhaps the only advantage they have in all this. But, regardless.

Shiki looks uncertain, but one last glance at Mr. Mew and her jaw firms. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” She rises to her feet, hand outstretched, and takes a breath. “Here goes!”

Silence. Nothing happens.

Joshua spins a strand of hair between his fingers. “...Have you considered—”

Thread cuts through the air like a whistling blade. Shiki screams.

Joshua, for his part, blinks over at what used to be a wall, and whistles through his teeth. “Wow,” he says, honestly impressed. “That’s going to be incredibly useful. Nice to see that you can pull your own weight after all, hm?”

Shiki doesn’t appear to be listening, but then, that’s little surprise. Her cardigan has been unraveled up to her elbow; the loose thread of the sleeve has reached long past its actual length and cut apart the air, slipping through stone like a hot knife through ice.

It’s like a net, Joshua thinks, and circles her, intrigued. It really is something. If she concentrates the threads, and focuses the force onto one impact point, she could cut right through the core of a larger Noise. Even the net of thread could cut apart quite a few of the smaller Noise, too... my, he thinks. Could she catch one? Fascinating.

His musing gets cut off by the loud, creaking groan of breaking stone. Shiki’s eyes go wide. Joshua looks up, startled, and steps back just in time to avoid a bit of rubble falling on his foot, as the building Shiki hit creaks, tilts, sways, and then ultimately tips back and falls apart into a burst of dust and debris.

Silence. Joshua stares. The building just behind the first, now walled off with ruin, also creaks, and then caves inward with a crash.

“Oh my god,” Shiki says, eyes wide and horrified behind her glasses. “Is that okay!?”

“…It’s fine,” Joshua says. A beat. He considers the rubble. “Well, maybe.”

There’s another pause, almost thoughtful. A wall on a third building goes loose and spills out onto the road. In the distance there is the sound of falling rocks. A small pebble rolls from the pile, taps Shiki’s shoe, and then falls sadly on its side.

Shiki covers her face.

“Useful, anyhow,” Joshua decides.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” Shiki sighs, rubbing at her face. Then she lifts up her head— and at last seems to get a full look at her unraveled cardigan, because she blanches, and holds out her arms in horror. “Oh, no, my sleeve! I spent days on this!”

“I’m sure you can put it back.”

“Oh, you think?” She takes a breath, focusing again, and Joshua watches with interest as the thread pries loose from the rubble pile, pooling together and re-weaving back into the cardigan. Shiki peeks one eye open. “Did it work?” Pause. “It worked!”

Joshua claps for her. “Well done.”

She beams, then seems to remember who she’s smiling at and visibly falters. Joshua giggles at her. What a face!

“Um, thanks.”

“No problem at all.”

She tucks the stuffed cat in her arms, hugging it close as if in comfort, staring down at the ground. She bites her lip, then shakes her head and exhales hard. “I… never mind. I guess we should keep moving.”

He gestures. She looks at him for a very long moment, then nods and takes the lead, walking down into a small back-alley street.

Joshua follows leisurely behind her, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his phone. He tries to place another call, but isn’t surprised when it fails once again. Well, he’s glad to still have the camera, at least, though he’ll have to be careful of its use. If he could find Shinjuku’s Room of Reckoning… though unfortunately, he has no idea where the Composer of Shinjuku might be located.

Hm.

He fiddles with it some more, as they walk, and the rest of the day passes by in routine—travel, fight the Noise that converge on them, move on. Joshua gets more in-tune with this new partner, and finds to some delight that their attacks mix well. Shiki is focused, direct, and methodical, as expected of her talent as a seamstress; she attacks her enemies one hit at a time until it falls, and then moves on to the next. Matched with Joshua’s habit of just blasting a general area and catching as many Noise as possible in the light, it covers a lot of ground. He flattens the ones he can without frying his phone—and she, in turn, picks off the stragglers.

After one such battle, Joshua touches to the ground and turns to smile at her, far more genuinely than before. He can say this for Shiki Misaki— in addition to being a living wrench in the works of Joshua’s plan, she’s also just a genuinely talented Player.

“This might just work,” he tells her, cheery, and toes a line in the soft dusting of ash lining Shinjuku’s streets. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts.”

She glances back at him, looking more confused than offended. “Then... why did you agree?”

“Hm.” Joshua tilts his head. “Why indeed?”

Silence, for a moment. Shiki’s expression flattens a little. “Okay. So you’re not going to tell me.”

It’s a little cruel, maybe, but this girl’s already thrown the first stone, back in the Shibuya River; really, this should be expected. “What makes you think you deserve the answer?”

His word choice is deliberate, and Shiki, of all people, sensitive enough to catch the subtext—her steps stutter, and she tugs the stuffed cat closer. “I... I didn’t mean it like that.” She eyes him again. Her fingers tighten. “You’re rude.”

He shrugs. “It’s an honest question. Really, Shiki, you haven’t changed much at all, have you?” He eyes her. “Wanting recognition is all well and good, but don’t go expecting it from me.”

She falters, steps stuttering in the dust. Joshua keeps walking, humming lightly. She doesn’t follow. He turns around. “We don’t have much time to waste,” he chides. “If you could, Shiki...?”

“How did you know that?” Her voice is tight. “How did you—”

“Composer,” he reminds her. “It’s my Game. I put in the entry fee requirement in the first place, you know.” Not for the reasons she probably thinks, but then, Joshua’s never claimed to teach kind lessons. “And you were Neku—my proxy’s—partner. Of course I kept an eye out.”

“Of course,” she echoes, a little hollowly. “So—so you know...”

That she is jealous? That she wants to be more than herself? That Shiki Misaki wants to be popular, and important, and at the center of it all? That she wants so much for herself she came to seethe at others who she thought stood above her?

Joshua knows a lot of things people wish he didn’t know.

“I do, yes.” He considers her, and sighs a little. She’s stepped on his toes, so to speak, but Joshua can relent where need be. “If it’s any consolation, you have changed.” Neku’s choice hadn’t been the only factor influencing Joshua’s unintended change of heart regarding Shibuya, though Joshua is never going to admit that out loud. “If this Game had an entry fee, yours would no longer be yourself.”

Green is a good color for Shiki Misaki. She’s still envious, even now. But it doesn’t fester in her anymore. She has come to learn her own strengths, started to realize her own Imagination— the value of herself. And Joshua will never, ever say it aloud, but he can admire that, a little. If all the world is secret gardens, then hers is finally growing again, no longer crushed beneath her own heel.

Shiki looks down like she can’t decide whether to be happy or offended about his words. Joshua shrugs and turns away. “It would probably be that ‘friend’ of yours,” he continues knowingly, and grins, a little wry. “Or maybe Neku?” The idea of Coco’s plot getting upended by something as a simple as an entry fee makes him snicker. “What a plot twist that would be, hm?”

“W-what?” And then her head snaps up, eyes wide behind the lens. “Wait, oh my gosh—entry fees— I completely forgot—” She stops, and visibly rewinds the conversation in her head. “There isn’t one?”

“Thankfully.” People really aren’t meant to play the Game more than once; Joshua shudders to think how much of Shibuya would have vanished if Neku’s fee had been taken again. “It’s more than the RG and UG merge. Whatever Game we’re playing...”

Shiki looks stunned. “There’s no Reapers.”

“Did you just notice? Well, anyway. That’s right. No Reapers, no walls, no mission mail...” Joshua frowns a little. “I’m... a little uncertain if anyone’s in charge of this Game at all.”

“What about that Reaper girl? Coco?”

“Let me reword. No one official, at any rate.” He leaves it at that, but deep down, Joshua can’t deny he’s getting uneasy. There is too much off—too much lack. A Composer encroaching on another’s territory is a heinous crime, and bringing an illegal Player with him? Even with his powers limited by sheer virtue of being outside Shibuya, that should have warranted some interaction, if nothing else. But no— instead they have been walking undisturbed, the city silent as a grave.

The Music gone.

It’s as if there is no Composer at all, Joshua thinks, but then—how is that possible? If the Composer were killed, both power and title would transfer to the killer; if the Composer were captured... well, the city still wouldn’t be like this. The power would live on and the Music continue. But this... what has happened to Shinjuku...

For once, Joshua can honestly admit he has no idea what’s going on. It’s kind of annoying.

“Either way,” Joshua says, with finality. “It’s not for you to know.” He smiles at her. “May we get moving again?”

And just like that, her hackles are back up. Sigh. “I’m just trying to be nice!” she snaps back, fierce. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it.” Her voice lowers. “You’re as bad as Neku was. We’re partners.”

“That’s a bit rude,” Joshua says, amused.

“Still. We made a pact. You could at least act like it. We have to work together!”

Joshua stares at her, a little disgruntled; Shiki crosses her arms and tilts up her chin and glares right back. For a moment Joshua considers pushing the issue, or perhaps ignoring her and continuing on anyway... and then, just as quickly, his annoyance fades, dull and tired. Joshua looks away first.

Shiki Misaki, Neku’s first partner in the game. Neku has learned a lot from her. And Joshua, though he is still only just able to admit this to himself, has learned from Neku in turn.

Joshua sighs heavily, the sound as loud as he can make it, and lifts a hand to his hair, tugging at the strands. “Oh, fine,” he says, only a little sullen, because he has learned something from his time playing his own Game and to pretend otherwise is probably beneath him, or something. “If you really want to know, I’m beginning to suspect this Game doesn’t have a Composer at all.”

Shiki looks a little stunned. Possibly she never expected him to admit anything; Joshua tries not to feel too offended about that. After all, if this were a month ago, she’d be right. (If this were a month ago, he wouldn’t have accepted her deal in the first place— but that’s not important either.) “Oh,” she says. “...Oh. Someone—someone killed Shinjuku’s Composer?”

Joshua clicks his tongue. “Not quite,” he says. “Killing the Composer wouldn’t cause an Inversion. Neither,” he adds when Shiki opens her mouth, “would kidnapping, or anything else of the like. This city has no Music. It’s silent. It is…” And this Joshua doesn’t like to admit, because the very idea is enough to make his skin crawl, but it’s the truth: “It’s as if it has no Imagination at all.”

“Um,” Shiki says. “Which is... bad?”

“You remember that storefront?” he asks her. “Yes, it’s bad. Imagination is what the entire UG runs on.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Exactly.” He huffs, irritated. “Unfortunately, whatever happened, I’m rather in the dark. This event has very thoroughly erased any clues left behind.”

Shiki frowns, looking thoughtful. “Is there a place for Shinjuku like there was for Shibuya? A river?”

“Of sorts. I don’t know where it is, though.” Unfortunately. Joshua likes mysteries, actually, but it’s a bit more fun when there’s actual clues to follow.

“I remember the Noise around the river were pretty strong. The station underpass in general, too. Like they were just drawn there…” Shiki holds the stuffed cat in both hands, looking down at it. It’s almost as if she expects the cat to talk back to her; Joshua stifles a grin. “I wonder if we could ride on them.”

Joshua blinks. Backtracks. “On. The Noise?”

She looks a little red, but shrugs. “I mean, could we?”

He almost laughs, but then he makes the mistake of thinking about it. With the thread… and, well, Joshua understands the Noise better than anyone else, so…

There’s a long pause. Joshua looks over to the Noise, far off down the street. He thinks about it some more. And it is with great regret when he says, at last: “Mm. Better not.”

Mr. H would never let him live it down. Also, less importantly, “While stronger Noise tend to gather around the Composer’s place, it’s not exactly a homing beacon. It won’t lead us to the Composer.”

Disappointing, though.

Shiki hums, but seems to accept that, tapping her finger to her chin. “Then maybe...” She trails off, brow furrowing. “If not the Composer, we could find where it all centered? Like the Inversion? It had to start somewhere, right...?”

She sounds uncertain, but Joshua straightens up. He’s not entirely sure the issue of Shinjuku’s Composer and the Inversion are so directly linked, but if one mystery can’t be solved, it stands to reason they should move on to the next. “It must have.” He tilts his head, then grins. “Ah-ha. I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Joshua is already on his phone, flipping through the settings. When she approaches, he generously doesn’t shoo her off. “Here,” he says, and tilts the screen to her. The idea has emboldened him; his foot taps lightly on the ground. Finally, a place to start. He has no doubt they’ll run into Neku on the way there, if he gets this right. Neku usually finds himself in the center of a disaster. “A while back I had a few... adjustments made to my phone. I never did remove them. This camera can take pictures of the past.” He waves the phone at her, grinning outright now. “Pick a direction, dear.”

Behind her glasses, Shiki’s eyes are wide. She claps her hands in front of her face. “Oh! So if the Inversion started somewhere, we can see what direction it came from?”

Her excitement is rather charming. Neku never got nearly as involved in the everyday mysteries as Joshua did; this response feels pretty gratifying, honestly. “Exactly! I’m impressed.”

She giggles, a little. “This is so exciting. I feel like I’m in a detective movie.” She spins on her heel, stuffed cat swinging from one hand, finger tapping her chin. She points down a random street, a once-main road turned hollow. “How about there?”

“As good a place to start as any, I suppose.” Joshua snaps the photo—he already knows the time they need, thankfully. Shiki leans over his shoulder; Joshua eyes her briefly, then sighs and lets it go. He opens the photo.

Oh, how fun. White light, the buildings crumbling, terrified people beginning to fade out... but it is vague, source-less, and impossible to tell the direction from which it’s coming from.

Shiki blinks at it, though, her eyes flicking from photo to the ruins and back again. “Oh, I know that building! Isetan department store… I went with Eri once.” She frowns a little. “Hmm. So we’re near the station?”

“Valuable info, but not quite what we were looking for… Well, two more photos left.” Joshua tilts the camera. “Choose wisely.”

“Uh... well, if we’re near the station, um, maybe the government building? Oh, where was it…” Shiki squints down a street. “There?”

Joshua snaps the photo, then sighs. Shiki frowns too. He’ll give her this much: she’d been right about the direction; he can see the tip of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and even some of Park Tower, but beyond the vague reddish light and screaming people, nothing indicates the epicenter of the event. Tsk.

“Last one,” Shiki checks, and at Joshua’s nod, worries at her lip. “Hm...”

Joshua considers it. His finger taps against the case. After a moment, his eyes flicker up. He’s never known Shinjuku too well, even when he was alive; he’d stayed in Shibuya most of his life, and then the entirety of his afterlife. “Have you been to Shinjuku before?”

“Well... once or twice. Not as often as Shibuya. Uh, mainly around the station. Why?”

He frowns at the screen, not really seeing it. “Can you guess where the center of the city might be?”

“That’s...” She trails off. Her brow furrows. “Um. Maybe? One second.” She takes a deep breath. “Er... where’s Shibuya from here?”

This, Joshua could answer in his sleep. He is so aware of the city it nearly dizzies him; he smiles to hide the sudden tremor in his arms. Ah, it really does set in quick, doesn’t it?

“To our right,” Joshua says lightly, and cheerfully ignores the headache spiking behind his eyes.

“Okay.” She bites her lip. “Then... from there, to... and then turn left... by Golden Gai, maybe…?” She trails her eyes across the ruined landscape and finally settles for a direction slightly north-east from them. “There? I think. It’s hard to tell, with the buildings all... you know.”

“That’s good enough,” Joshua decides. He lines up the image. Then he pauses. For a moment he frowns. And then, not entirely sure why, he lifts the camera, taking in not just the street and the buildings but also the sky, high above.

He takes the shot.

His fingers tighten. His smile widens, but there’s no joy in it at all. “Bingo.”

“Yes!” She looks at the photo. Her eyes go wide. “...What?”

The photo is exactly what they need, but neither is it a welcome sight. The distant high-rise of the buildings is turning to dust and ash. People are cowering in the streets, covering their heads. A pale white light, tinged faintly bloody with red, shines out through all the streets with a piercing glow.

And high above, settled in the sky like a brand, the Reaper’s skull bears down on the city, blood red and burning bright.

“Interesting,” Joshua murmurs, and thumbs the phone off. “I believe we just got our first clue.”

Shiki bites her lip, then seems to shake herself. “We know where to start looking, now. So that’s good.” She brightens, a little. “And Neku’s sure to be there! He gets in too much trouble not to find it himself.” She’s smiling outright now, and pumps a fist to the air, triumphant, turning to Joshua with delight. “We did it!”

He giggles at her enthusiasm, and her smile falters, falling awkward and flat. Her eyes catch on his face and she seems to remember who she’s talking to for the first time. Her smile fades. Her fist lowers.

Joshua considers her, shrugs, and turns away to mess with his phone. His hands are still annoyingly shaky from earlier. He doesn’t speak. Shiki doesn’t say anything either. The silence stretches.

When it’s clear she’s not going to break, Joshua sighs again and closes his phone, looking down at the case briefly before tucking it back into his pocket. “You really don’t like me, do you?” Joshua muses, and tucks his hands in his pockets. “What stories Neku must have told you, I wonder.”

“He told me enough.” Her voice is quiet again. “But you already knew about that.”

He hums, not really answering. Another silence. This time, Shiki looks away.

“I can’t forgive you,” she announces, apropos of nothing, eyes on her stuffed animal. She hugs it close. “Which sounds silly, doesn’t it? Considering you never did anything to me. But even if Neku does forgive you, one day, I don’t think I ever will.” Joshua keeps his eyes on the skyline, and half an eye on her; he sees her fingers tighten. “I don’t know why you did it, and even if I did, I don’t think I really care.”

Something hardens in her voice. Joshua waits, patiently, for her to finish. “Your point?” he prompts.

Her jaw clenches, and for the first time she seems truly angry with him. “You hurt Neku. You hurt him— a lot. I remember that much. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. You did that.” I’m aware, Joshua thinks. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, now. “And you hurt him after it was over, too.”

Joshua frowns, briefly, the barest flicker of an expression, and Shiki looks up and smiles at the sight, an expression that is half-hearted and small and not very happy at all. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t know about that one. Neku doesn’t either, I don’t think. But he— he wanted to see you again, you know? No matter my feelings on it, that’s still true. Maybe he just wanted to hit you, or yell at you—um, maybe he just wanted answers?” She shrugs. “Maybe all three. But he did want to see you again. Whenever we meet up, he’s always getting distracted, looking for someone else. And I’m not stupid. I can guess.”

He has stayed silent thus far out of some amused hope of getting this out of her system; now Joshua is regretting that. There is something ashy on his tongue, settled cold in his throat. He takes a thin breath and exhales it slowly, like a test.

“You never came,” Shiki says, simply, a little harder. She’s looking at him, Joshua can tell, but he keeps his gaze turned away, fixed on the sky. “Maybe you meant that as a kindness? I don’t know. That doesn’t really matter either. Because it hurt him either way.”

Another pause. Joshua closes his eyes, opens them, and then finally looks back at her. She glares at him—not angry anymore, not really, just stubborn, stiff and holding her ground. He considers her.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Shiki says, at last, reluctantly. Joshua raises an eyebrow at her. She huffs. “Which kind of makes it worse, maybe. But I don’t. Neku doesn’t either, otherwise he wouldn’t be trying so hard.” Her chin lifts, determined. “You probably aren’t sorry for what happened. You’ll probably never say it; it’s not really my business. But Neku’s trying. I don’t know why, but he is—and you know, if nothing else, you could stand to try too.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything. She’s caught him off-guard with this—of all things, this is not what he was expecting her to say. And maybe that is Joshua’s fault. Hasn’t he learned this lesson already? Isn’t that why Shibuya’s still standing? They lost the Game, all of them, Neku and Shiki and the Bito siblings; they lost the game, but they had changed his mind. They had surprised him. They had changed him in turn too, even if Joshua still doesn’t quite know how to admit it.

“Just a thought,” Shiki says, hotly, and this time she’s the one to turn away. “I don’t know if you even… N-never mind. This was stupid, I told myself I wouldn’t— let’s just go.”

How silly. All of his little asides, and yet this is what riles her up. It probably shouldn’t surprise him. She’s broken into a Reaper’s Game just for the chance to help; likely Joshua should have seen this coming. It’s still annoying, though. Why has he agreed to this again?

But he doesn’t move. He feels weary, and strangely drained, and he pinches at the bridge of his nose with a quiet exhale. Hah. He could say he’s still not sure why, but then, that would be lying, wouldn’t it? And while Joshua is rather good at lying to himself, he prefers not to make a habit of it.

He thinks, once, he would have been angry at this. He’s not sure what to make of the fact he’s not. He’s not sure what to say at all, actually—and isn’t that funny? That doesn’t happen often either.

Mostly he just feels tired.

Joshua watches Shiki walk away, and lingers there, at the edge of the sidewalk. His gaze draws back, turning away toward Shibuya; he looks past the ruined buildings to the streets that are His and His alone. He taps his fingers against his thigh. Trying, he thinks.

But there is no time. And so Joshua pulls his gaze away, and leaves Shibuya and his thoughts behind him.

#twewy #the world ends with you #joshua kiryu #yoshiya kiryu #shiki misaki #neku sakuraba #joshneku #twewy fic #iza fanfic #fic: all that's left in the world

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melinaajamie · 4 years ago

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35 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Thanks @bachint for tagging me! I’ll try to provide you with the best answers I can come up with ^^

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!) Probably three stars, maybe four? Yeah, four. I know it seems arrogant but aside from the occasional “OMG EVERYTHING I WRITE IS CRAP!” that ever writer experiences from time to time, I usually like what I’m writing and especially how I write ^^

2. Why do you write fanfiction? Bc I love exploring the universes and characters I love further. Ehy accept the canon as it is? ;D

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? Puuh, that’s a hard one? Maybe that I like to kill a bunch of characters? :D Naah, it’s probably the length of what I write. Once I get started I can’t seem to stop.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you? Since I study literature and read a bunch of books for it, absolutely. It can be any book from any author I read. But Arthur Conan Doyle inspires me a lot, Simon Beckett and Paulo Coelho.

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? My Professor Layton fanfic “The Cogs of Time” ^^

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily? The start. I hear a lot of people say this is the hardest and in some ways I agree with them. But I usually just start writing and go with the flow. Or I immediately have the beginning of a story/chapter in my mind once I start thinking about it.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most? Writing believable dialogue between parents and their kids. I’m fine as long as the kids are little (let’s say up to 8, maybe 10), but then I’m stumped.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write? Like in general or specific characters? I can write any characters as long as they are not parents. Then I have a bit of a problem.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write? Ah. Okay. Tying in with (7) here, parents (:

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for? To write for? Hm... probably adventure, crime fiction/detective fiction and Young Adult? I don’t know, I like a quite realistic approach that can and will take a dark turn.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most? About the world. About what’s wrong. About relationships that took a wrong turn, about things that are almost right, about figure skating (big fan!), about growing up, about changing.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about. Currently, I’m absolutely excited about my Layton Brothers; Mystery Room fanfic “A Game of Murder”! I’m SO close to the ending and I can’t wait to solve the murder and finally reveal the killer! Everyone will hate me XD

13. First fandom you ever wrote for? Disney’s “Frozen”

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for? That changes according to my current obsession. At the moment, my favourite fandoms are Professor Layton and Pokemon.

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for? Weird in what way? I don’t believe in that concept, sorry :)

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)? Does murdering characters I and the audience love count? Then it’s that XD

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for. Probably more of a genre but romance. If romance is the main plot/trope I’m off. If it is a sub plot that’s interesting AND supports the story in some way, I will take a look.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written? Probably also “Cogs of Time”. So much death in the end that no one expected, so much heartbreak. I admit, I indeed was a bit of an asshole with that last chapter XD

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between? I like giving the canon a little twist and AUs ^^

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff? Gen. If it’s shippy, then it’s usually just something short. Like I said, I’m not one for romance.

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!) That also depends on my current obsession. At the moment, that would be LayClaire and Lemmy (both romantic, both Professor Layton) and Lucifendi (platonic and romantic, Layton Brothers; Mystery Room). And any Pokemon couple for friendship ^^

22. Do you listen to anything while you write? MUSIC! Always!!

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? independent ideas. But I often find myself including a line I’ve read as a prompt somewhere or making it the theme of a chapter.

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works? Multi-chapter works.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic?Tell us about them! I have dreamt about my fics being movies or TV series, but spin-offs? If I want a spin-off I write it :D

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try? So far, nope. As Margaret Atwood once said, “The paper basket is your friend. It was invented for you by God.”

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received? Someone saying I made their day with my writing :) I love to make people happy!”

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing? It does hurt but I know people want to help so I try to be open to it and look back into the part that was given critic.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out? I always do that when I have to write interaction between parents and older children. I always feel like it’s very stiff but my friends say it’s okay. Well.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst? MERCILESS ANGST ALL THE WAY.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them! Yep! I once created a Professor Layton OC whom was the dead (well, we never really got to know if she was indeed dead, she has just vanished) daughter of a character. She was instead just kidnapped by the criminal organisation her father was fighting and trained to be one of their soldiers. I never write the fanfic but it never left my mind. Might do that one day :)

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. “Let’s play my favourite game. A game of murder.”

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process? That I put as much effort in as I can to make it as good as possible fir you guys!! And that I usually do a lot of research and put the most effort into the tiniest things to make it realistic and add another layer to make it a shade darker ;D

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. I’m really proud of this but it’s not a fanfic. I hope that’s okay. I can’t really think of one thing that I’m proud of bc there are many. It’ from the book I’m currently writing.

He let go of him so suddenly that the cold hit him like a brick. Mikhail gasped for air, needed a few seconds until he could open his eyes again. The view was heaven-sent. Vasja was standing above him, the gaze of his icy blue eyes troubled yet so piercing and captivating that Mikhail found himself sitting up without another thought as if someone had turned him into a puppet. At times, he felt as if Vasja was the great puppet master who made Mikhail’s entire world dance as he liked. And he loved dancing for Vasja. The gaze of his icy blue eyes contrasted with his ruby red hair which surrounded his face like a bloody halo; it made his snow white skin glow even more. He remembered the feeling of Vasja’s hair between his fingers, as soft as velvet, as clouds, as a mild breeze o fair on one oft he first days of spring. He reached out for Vasja but he was quick to grab the boy’s hands and place them low on his stomach. A shudder ran down Mikhail’s spine when he felt Vasja’s finger travel across his arms until they cupped his face. He lifted it so Mikhail had to look at him. „You know the rules, right, Micky?“

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! Like, it’s so amazing?? You get millions of words for FREE and the authors don’t get ANYTHING but STILL we have this amazing community who keeps writing and reading and commenting... It’s just AWESOME!! I’m so glad I discovered fanfiction bc the community is so awesome and I always wanted to give some canons a good twist or just think of new things with characters I love!!

#fanfiction #fanfic #The Cogs of Time #professor layton #layton brothers mystery room #ao3 #i got tagged #35 questions for fanfic writers #writing #my writing #writer

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