#I couldn’t see cause I originally did it on white background
Text
A Quarter-life Crisis
Synopsis: Higuruma takes some time to think with the aide of his ex-wife.
Author's note: Hey guys! I shared a bit of this fic awhile ago so here is the completed version. Feedback is always welcomed. Enjoy!
Warnings: brief reference to suicidal imagery, mental health struggles, divorce
Original Post
Hiromi had never thought of himself as a defender of justice, moreso a man with the inability to leave things alone, the need to pursue the truth.
This persistence had finally managed to work against him
When the judge announced a guilty verdict for his client, he made eye contact with Hiromi, giving him the withering stare of betrayal. It burrowed into his gut, stabbing him and taking him out of himself for a moment. All of a sudden everything faded into the background as his body took control, a swelling feeling pounding in his chest. He got up from his seat and stalked over to the bench. With a shaky hand he grasped the gavel and lifted it over his head.
Bang.
Then he lifted it again.
BANG.
Then again.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Everyone stared in startled confusion, unsure of what he was doing.
Shimizu, his associate, rushed over to where he stood with a worried look on her face.
“Mr. Higuruma?” she asked.
But he wasn’t there. He was long gone.
“Everyone come back. We’re having a retrial.”
The older judge furrowed his brow in annoyance.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“You're a joke,” he retorted.
The judge’s face turned red in anger.
“Mr. Higuruma. If you don’t collect yourself I’ll hold you in contempt.”
Hiromi gripped the gavel in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.
Without a warning he hurled the gavel at the window, shattering it in one fell swoop.
~
“Listen Higuruma, it’s nothing personal. We just need you to take a few days so we can clear the air.”
“I want a return date,” he insisted.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you that. Get your things. Go home. Rest. We’ll be in touch.”
~
Hiromi was on vacation.
At least, that was his office's official statement.
In actuality, he was waiting to see if he still had a job after his small incident in court.
Small being the understatement of the century.
Hiromi had been wallowing, mostly sleeping. The only light in his small apartment was from the television, replaying the same three movies over and over again.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table and he reached out to grab it, squinting to read the name.
(Name).
~
He arrived at your apartment at around eight.
When you opened the door a sense of relief washed over him, something he hadn’t felt since his ‘break’ started.
“Hey stranger,” you warmly greeted.
He couldn’t help but smile. “Hey.”
~
“I knew the second we got divorced your life would take a nosedive,” you prodded.
“And I knew your life would get infinitely better,” Higuruma retorted.
You led him to the couch and made your way over to the liquor cabinet to fix him something.
“Whiskey?” you asked.
“Please.”
You poured some for him and yourself, pressing the glass into his hand and joining him.
He took a moment to observe your apartment. Spacious and decorated with luxurious furniture. It made his place look like a broom closet.
“So should we drink until we forget why you're here or would you rather talk?” you asked.
Hiromi looked down at his whiskey glass. “It’s been about two weeks since I’ve actually spoken to another human being so I’m not sure how great of a conversationalist I’d be.”
You set your whiskey glass down on the coffee table and crossed your arms, wrinkling your silk pajamas and matching robe.
“We really don’t need to talk Hiromi, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
How did you see him? How did everyone else see him? Some nutcase that had thrown his career away, holed up in his apartment, sprawled out in a bathtub with his wrists slit, still in the suit?
God how morbid.
But the situation he found himself in had caused his mind to go to some dark places.
“I appreciate it (Name). Really. How did you find out?”
“Everyone’s talking about it.”
Of course.
The legal world was abuzz with the news of an exemplary public defender who took a stand in the courtroom. At least, that’s what one of the headlines read.
“Of course. That was a stupid question.”
“I couldn’t believe it. What on earth possessed you?”
Hiromi knocked back his whiskey and set the empty glass on the table next to yours.
“I honestly have no idea. It was like…losing control of myself for a second.”
“Any word from the court yet?”
He shook his head. “It’s been almost two weeks. I just wish they’d get it over with already.”
“You really think they’ll take away your license?”
“Well I insulted a judge, damaged federal property, do you have any vodka?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have just accepted it and moved on.
You smirked. “You know you’ve never been able to move on from an unsolved problem.”
“I got a divorce didn’t I?”
You chuckled. “Well you could always do improv comedy.”
Your phone buzzed and you retrieved it to see who it was.
“It’s the office. Do you mind?” you asked.
He shook his head. “Go ahead.”
“Hey Kento.”
You got up and headed into the kitchen to continue the conversation.
While you chatted, Hiromi's attention was caught by an old photo of you on the mantle over the fireplace. He recognized it instantly, having taken the picture himself. It was from your second date where the two of you had gone to the beach. He remembered chasing you into the surf, nearly stepping on a washed up jellyfish. The photo was of you looking back at him, a smile frozen on your face.
All of a sudden he felt a little uncomfortable being here. The two of you had a past, you had been married, then divorced. Was it even possible for you to be friends after that?
You interrupted his train of thought, reentering the room.
“Sorry about that. We're negotiating this contract and the client’s convinced that if we're not working around the clock the deal will fall through.”
He stood up.
“Then maybe I should go.”
You shook your head. “Don’t be silly.”
“No (Name). I mean…I don’t think this is appropriate.”
You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What isn’t appropriate?”
“This. Us. Shit. This isn’t weird for you? Us hanging out.”
“No,” you simply answered. “Is it weird for you?”
No. It had been as easy as reciting the alphabet. But it scared him, and he didn’t want to drag you back into his increasingly fucked up world. Not when you were doing so well.
“No,” he uncertainly answered. “It’s normal.”
“And being normal with me is a readjustment?” you concluded.
He sighed in defeat.
You took a step towards him. “Hiromi. I understand that our relationship is different from what it used to be. But I’m always here for you if you need someone to talk to.”
“But you don’t have to be, is what I’m trying to say.”
“I want to be,” you assured him.
And just like that he was readjusted.
~
After Hiromi had calmed down you ordered Chinese takeout and put on The Graduate.
“I thought you said this movie is pretentious.”
“It is but it’s easy to enjoy when you're not watching it with a pretentious person,” you retorted.
“Just for that I’m taking the last soup dumpling.”
~
The movie wrapped up with Benjamin and Elaine running away together. Joyously laughing as the bus drove off, only to slowly realize the massive mistake they had made.
As Simon and Garfunkel played them off Hiromi asked a question.
“Why didn’t it work out?”
“They were young and stupid,” you concluded.
“No, us,” he clarified.
You stabbed the fried rice with your chopstick. “For the exact same reason. We were still in school, convinced we’d make a difference, too naive to think out the long term.”
“And this is it?” he asked.
You sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
You set the takeout box on the coffee table next to your empty scotch glasses and faced your ex husband.
“Do you think if we had met later in life, things would be different?”
“I’m not sure,” he truthfully answered. “We always wanted different things so maybe not.”
He cleared his throat, not sure if he should continue. “But even if it didn’t work out. I still don’t regret being with you.”
You gave him a soft smile. “Neither do I.”
He leaned back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling. “(Name). I have no idea what I’m going to do. Even if they let me keep practicing I can’t keep going like this.”
It was draining him. At this rate he wouldn’t even make it to forty.
“Maybe, a change of environment?” you suggested.
He lifted his head to look at you. “My firm has a pretty big dedication to pro bono work. You could still do what you're doing on the side with more funds and a lighter workload.”
Working in private corporate law? It was almost impossible to imagine himself with a secretary and expensive lunch meetings.
Before he could respond you spoke again. “I know how you feel about private interests and you will have to see those types of things up close. But promise me you’ll think about it.”
After a moment an earth shattering realization hit him.
Damn. He was falling for you again. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
For the first time in his life he wasn’t sure about anything.
“Yes, I’ll definitely think about it.”
~
Hiromi got home at around two in the morning.
You had offered to let him stay in your guest bedroom but he had politely declined, afraid of what the two of you under one roof could lead to.
He was about to collapse into bed when his phone rang.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hiromi?” Shimizu answered on the other end. “Thank goodness you're awake.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”
“I was working late at the office when I got the fax. Some interns messed up so it came in later than it should have.”
“What?”
“You’ll have to meet with hr but your back. They’re letting you keep your license.”
“...Really?”
“Your record worked in your favor. And who else would work as hard as you do for such crappy pay?”
Shimizu didn’t get a response back.
“Hiromi?”
“That’s great. Really…but I need some time to think.”
“About what?”
“What’s best for me.”
Your smile came back to him.
He had a lot to figure out.
It was a little late in life for him to be thinking about new jobs and new relationships. Maybe he was being rash. But he didn’t care.
Better late than never.
~
The End.
Taglist: @lynn-edits
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shattered Elysium is a 18+ Rated IF— coded within CScript— that combines fantasy elements within the modern world. Your new journey awaits you, Harbinger.
Setting(s): Proelium (Immortal Realm) || Briar Glen, Washington || Seattle, Washington.
Genre(s): High Fantasy, Romance, Thriller, Action, Drama, and Dark Themes.
Warning(s): This story is rated 18+ for depictions of death, violence, blood, gore, profanity, sexual themes, dark themes, and mentions of torture.
DEMO (TBA)
Harbinger…
It was a word, a darkly whispered title, that haunted your dreams at night. Images— that seemed almost tangible enough to be called memories— filling your mind, but it only ever caused more confusion once you awoke.
After all there was no way in hell you were the Right Hand to an ethereal being that was older than you could ever imagine.
You weren’t ever anyone of note— even being a Detective in the Briar Glen Police Department— always passing through life on the aftershocks of those around you. You couldn’t imagine, least of all see yourself being, someone of such importance.
Dreams of sweet smelling meadows, bell-like laughter, and the overwhelming feeling of safety quickly turn to nightmares of snarling beasts; whose burning red eyes promise nothing but death. The change, while horrifying in its intensity, was chalked up to nothing but your brain ruining a good thing— as it usually did.
That is until bodies start piling up within Briar Glen— bodies that have been torn to shreds by an animal that could never be from the forests surrounding your sleepy town.
It was only when you saw the symbol— carved into the hand of the latest victim— that you truly realize that your dreams, your nightmares, weren’t what they originally appeared to be.
They were warnings of what is to come.
Play as an MC that has no idea about the life they used to have. Will you be able to become the Harbinger once more? Or will your new form hinder who you’ve always been?
Customizable MC: name, gender, sexuality, appearance, hobbies (some), and skills.
Fight the incoming darkness that not only threatens the people of Briar Glen but the world as you know it.
Reincarnation is a fickle thing— will you be able to manage the intricacies of it?
Romance 1 of 6 ROs! (Some of which will be marked with a red flag symbol as a forewarning to you all.)
Will you be able to put together the pieces of your past life? What happened to you? Or will everything shatter before you’re ever able to grasp the pieces of those memories?
Be ready, Harbinger. You’ll need every weapon in your arsenal if you wish to survive.
Aelius [M] - The Lord 🚩
1000+ [6’6” | Slate Gray Eyes | Onyx Black Hair]
The God of the Sun— and all that falls under such a domain— and one of your old Commanders. While he’s much softer than his sister— there’s still a dangerous aura lurking just beneath his sparkling smile. Every time you grow near you’re reminded of Icarus and how he, much like you, flew way too close to the sun.
“I’ve missed you, my dear Harbinger. I don’t think I’ll be able to let you slip through my fingers again.”
Céline [F] - The Lady 🚩
1000+ [6’4” | Crystalline Blue-Green Eyes | Golden White Hair]
The Goddess of the Moon— and all that falls under such a domain— and one of your old Commanders. With a cold air, stoic persona, and unwavering confidence, the Goddess isn’t someone that’s easy to get close to. You, however, always caused a soft spot to form in the wall of ice that surrounds her heart.
“Dearest Harbinger… did you really think that Death would stop me from finding you again? I’d tear this world apart if it meant keeping you, surely you know that.”
Gabriel [M] - The Warrior
500+ [6’0” | Hazel Eyes | Light Brown Hair]
A man that’s forever stood in the background of Céline. Forever at her side, doing whatever she commanded, without wavering. Silence is the solitude that he knows and understands. Will you ever be able to get him to break it? Will you find the man that’s hidden behind years of duty? Find a person behind the warrior?
“My life will always belong to Céline, Harbinger…. My heart, however? Will always belong to you if you’ll have it.”
Natasha [F] - The Guardian
500+ [5’4” | Forest Green Eyes | Golden Brown Hair]
Just as Gabriel was forever by Celine’s side, Natasha was rarely ever away from Aelius. With kind eyes, a gentle smile and demeanor, you’d never expect that she’d be considered one of the most dangerous amongst his army— following his orders with a ruthless precision. Will you help her find something worth living for besides her duty to Aelius?
“You’ve let me see many things clearly, Harbinger. For that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough. I hope my love, and my devotion, will be a good start.”
Gray/Grace [M/F] - The Partner
32 [5’8” | Light Brown Eyes | Dark Brown Hair]
The one person that seems like a calming anchor within the hellish whirlwind that has become your life. Your best friend, and the only person that’s ever truly believed in you, doesn’t truly understand what it is that you’re doing— or fighting against— but they’d never hesitate in backing you up. Will something more grow between you both because of it?
“Loving you… it just feels right. Like I finally know how to stand on solid ground again.”
Damien/Diana [M/F] - The Criminal 🚩
33 [5’11” | Sapphire Blue Eyes | Dark Auburn Hair]
Granted employing the help of an elusive criminal— although they’ve never actually been caught— isn’t your smartest idea, but when you need to get into the criminal underbelly of Briar Glen there’s no one better you can think of. With a flirtatious smile, cocky attitude, and penchant for violence, you’re certainly going to have your hands full with them. Will you end up getting something else from your time together too?
“At first I wasn’t sure you were worth my time. In fact I was close to killing you, but I’m glad that I didn’t. I quite like you, Detective. More than I have ever liked anyone. You should feel lucky.”
580 notes
·
View notes
Text
@tbb-appreciation-week DAY 3: TECH (09/05) — Everybody Lives AU | Reunion | "Please, talk to me."
characters and relationships: Tech, Omega, Crosshair, Hunter, (Wrecker and Echo are mostly background)
warnings: mentions of blood, head wound, trapped down a crevasse, Tech falls but not like That dw, one (1) Star Wars swear word
read on AO3
“Tech. Tech!”
He opened his eyes carefully at the call of his name, blinked something warm and sticky away from where it was slowly trickling over his temple and into his face. Raised a hand to wipe at it, and it came away red. “This is… not optimal.”
“Understatement of the kriffing century.” Omega’s voice floated down from somewhere above, and he started to tilt his head to look at her- OW. No, that hurt too much, so he stopped and carefully tilted it back to the original position.
“I believe Echo would say, ‘Language’,” he said instead, wiping his bloody hand on his trousers.
“Yeah, well Echo’s not here right now. Are you okay, Tech?”
“I am still alive. What happened?”
“One moment we were crossing the ice, and I looked away, and the next second there was this huge CRACK, and when I looked back you were gone and I looked down the crevice and saw you bleeding.” The words came out in a rush, like she’d taken a huge breath and let it all out at once. “You were out for almost ten minutes.”
“Wonderful,” Tech said flatly.
Something dripped into his eyes, and he wiped at them again, smearing more blood over his gloves. He winced at the momentary burst of pain it caused, white spots dancing in his vision as he closed his eyes. That head wound was starting to get more and more impractical, not to mention the potential brain damage if he’d hit his head too hard. He heard shifting and scraping above him, and he looked to see a shadow move from one side of him to the other, casting a layer of blue-gray on the ice to his left.
“I commed Hunter a few minutes ago. They should all be here by now.” Omega’s voice started to take on a note of worry, and Tech forced away the floating spots in his vision to think about the distance between their location and the Marauder, Hunter’s estimated speed, and the time it should take for his older brother to get there. “Wrecker also said to keep you talking and awake, because you might have a concussion.”
“They should be here momentarily, barring any interceptions,” Tech reassured her.
“I said I didn’t think keeping you talking would be a problem because. You do talk a lot. Crosshair said it was your toxic trait, whatever that means.” She carried on like she hadn’t heard him. “Maybe he meant one day you’ll talk so much that a bounty hunter will poison you for it.”
“That’s… not what it means.” Tech frowned, then explained the true meaning of the phrase to her.
Omega paused for a while. “Ohh. That makes more sense.”
“I thought so, as well.” Tech felt his eyelids drooping, fought against it and straightened against the canyon walls.
“Tech?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you still awake?”
“I would not be able to answer you if I was.”
“I know.” Omega was often puzzling to Tech, what with her random bouts of childish whimsy, but by now he thought he would find it even stranger if she were to suddenly lose them.
He heard pounding, then the sounds of something scuffing against the ice, then Wrecker’s voice boomed down into the crevice. “Hey, Tech! You down there?”
“Yes. Did Omega not tell you?”
“She did. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Wrecker often had a habit of doing illogical things for the sake comfort, but then, they all did once in a while. Tech couldn’t help a dazed smile at the thought of his brother listening to hear him from the top of the crevice.
“Tech? Tech!” Hunter’s voice now, sharp with concern, a bigger shadow hovering on his right compared to Omega’s on his left. Tech pulled himself back into alertness to reply.
“I am… still awake.”
“Just hold tight. We’re gonna get you out of there.” He heard Hunter direct the others to make a setup of ropes and pulleys, with Omega keeping up a constant stream of grounding chatter, to which Tech replied less and less.
“Tech. Tech!” That was Crosshair, raising his voice and leaning dangerously over the edge, Tech could see now as he looked up through a haze. “For kark’s sake, talk to me.”
“I thought talking too much was my… toxic trait,” Tech mumbled.
“Not now it isn’t.” The voice was suddenly closer, and he opened his eyes to see Crosshair hovering over him, suspended from a grapple line. “You look horrible.”
“Thank you.”
Crosshair snorted, hooking a second line to Tech’s belt. “You’re welcome.” He called up to the others, and Tech rose towards the bright glow of the ice.
#swift writes#swift creates#tbbaw2023#Tech#Tbb tech#Tech tbb#Day 3#Star Wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#star wars fic#Injuries#blood#head wound#platonic#siblings#Star Wars#The bad batch#tbb fanfic#tbb fanfiction#the bad batch fanfic#tbb#“Please talk to me.”#angst#trapped
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
The White Ravens - Fight Scene Chapter (ง'̀-'́)ง
This is the first chapter I’ve written for my original story, but it’s taking place somewhere in the middle of the plot. 🥊
Background info before we get started so you’re not entirely clueless:
Zoya is the main character. 🎸
This occurs before my two girlies in their duo, indie-rock band become girlfriends (Zoya and Eleanor).
Lilith (little, bullying, bitchy antagonist) is part of a duo pop band. She competes fiercely in the local music industry against ‘The White Ravens’.
All characters here are 17ish.
Setting: Large high school courtyard in London, late 1980? 🇬🇧
Warnings: blood, physical violence (ofc), swearing (thanks Zoya xxx), stab injury, mention of drugs.
Enjoy!
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“Admit it.”
Silent. Lilith went silent. For one in her life, she had nothing to say.
Zoya breathed heavily as she towered over the blond teen, her knuckles going white as she gripped at the collar of Lilith’s shirt. Her heatbeat pounded in her ears.
“Admit it.” Zoya repeated through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, okay,” Lilith’s voice was feeble under false confidence, “ I stole your cassette.”
Zoya’s hand clutched tighter. “Admit everything.”
“I- I copied your music sample. I published it… as my own. I’m making $1000 a week because of it,” Lilith spoke while trying to maintain eye contact, “There, I said it.”
Zoya’s glare forced Lilith to spill. “Oh, and I did start that rumour about you and the um… drugs.”
Zoya finally got it. A full confession.
It was deisel poured into a pit of fire. Zoya’s grey eyes - usually vibrant and steady - now soiled with blind fury and bloodlust.
A crowd had already gathered. A few peers watched with concern. Most students considered running to get a teacher, then dismissed it at the thought of missing the start of the fight.
Zoya tried to control the flames, but Lilith was a professional arsonist and Zoya couldn’t surpress any longer.
She had already started. In a swift motion, her fist smashed against Lilith’s solar plexus. It sent her stumbling back, gasping for air. Her jaw dropped with disbelief.
Lilith looked at Zoya with eyes that spoke murder. She sprinted towards Zoya, swinging foolishly, but Zoya blocked and dodged.
Lilith loved how her face looked. So Zoya decided to ruin it.
Every punch from Zoya bespoke strength. Although she acted uncontrollably, a small part of her brain told her not to overdo it.
She didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of manslaugher.
“Tired already?” Zoya growled as Lilith panted.
The once cocky and arrogant teen had been reduced to a small, frail girl. Her hair was out of place, makeup smudged, sweat trickled from her forehead. Blood poured from her nose. Bruises had started to form. Her lip swelled.
The crowd yelled and cheered. Some chanted Zoya’s name.
Others looked with horror.
Then Zoya slapped Lilith across the face. Lilith, on her knees and wide-eyed, looked like a child who was getting punished.
Zoya had slapped her. It was as if Zoya told her “I’m superior, and you know it. Everybody knows it.”
The reaction from Lilith caused Zoya to smirked derisively. Lilith couldn’t handle it.
Zoya was caught off guard when tackled by Lilith. She was shoved, landing harshly on her hip. Zoya landed a few extra punches on Lilith’s face because of it. After a short scurrying of feet and flinging of hands, Lilith herself ended up immobile, both arms pinned behind her.
Zoya begun pushing the blonde’s arm in an odd angle, slowly putting more weight on it. Lilith eyes watered as she shouted. The terror and agony on Lilith’s face was foreign.
“Stop, please. Just stop.” She sobbed.
“Stop?” Zoya scoffed. “Please. I haven’t even dislocated your shoulder yet.” The words came out eerily. Her eyes bore holes into the girl. Zoya, fueled by the endless torment Lilith had put her through, was blinded. However. there was still someone who could help her to see.
A familiar voice from the distance grew louder. It was a voice Zoya’s brain would not and could not block out.
“Where is - hey, let me through! Zoya!”
Eleanor pushed her way through the crowd and stood puffing. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.
“Jesus Christ. Zoya, what are you doing?”
Zoya spoke softly, her large, muscular build still pushing Lilith’s arm. It was strange, and she was scolding a second ago. Almost like she was suddenly tired. “Stay out of this, Eleanor.”
Eleanor shouldn’t be seeing this. This is too much. She wanted Eleanor to leave.
Zoya did not look up to meet Eleanor’s gaze, for she knew the influence it would have on her. Zoya would immediately follow whatever instructions she gave out. So instead she focused on the girl below her and whispered again.
“Listen carefully, you cretin. If you keep pissing me off, I’ll have to-“
Shunk!
The rest of her words were sputtered. There were gasps from the crowd. Everyone stoped moving and time slowed.
Zoya felt as if she had been pushed into icy water. Has she been punched? No, it wasn’t possible. Lilith didn’t have the strength for something like this. She tried to comprehend the weird feeling in her stomach.
But then Eleanor cried out.
She rushed to Zoya, looking distressed and cursing under her breath. “Somebody get a teacher.”
Shit, Zoya thought, recalling the time when she almost ran over a puppy on the road and Eleanor foul-mouthed like a sailor.
It’s never good when Eleanor swears.
Something warm trickled down Zoya’s lower side. Still kneeling, she reached towards the dampness. Her fingers were met with a sticky liquid as well as something cold and metal-like. Zoya glanced down and found a pair of scissors embedded deeply into the side of her abdomen.
Lilith stared, horrified, scrambling to get to her feet. She hurried off, and a few boys sprinted after her.
“That bitch,” Zoya grunted, still kneeling, “she made me stain my school uniform.”
Blood bloomed on her shirt like dark ink on paper.
The floor beneath her swayed as her vision clouded. She shook her head to clear it.
She tried standing.
It worked.
But it felt like she was on a boat.
She tried walking.
Where to? She had no idea. She just wanted to walk away, away from the eyes drilling into her.
Eleanor gently grabbed her arm. “Zoya, I need you to lay down. I’m going to have to put pressure on it.” Her voice was doused in worry but it didn’t wobble.
“I’m fine, I’ve got it.” Zoya croaked, clutching to her side feebly. She tried a smile but it was more of a grimace, her body protesting for every movement she attempted.
Walking didn’t work.
She took a couple of steps and started tumbling forwards.
Eleanor caught her in her arms with enormous effort and placed Zoya on her back.
El pushed down on the the wound with her own school jumper she swiftly took off, trying hard not to move the embedded scissors whist it’s points were possibly prodding organs. Blood seeped through the dark fabric and stained her fingers.
Zoya wanted to apologise for the grime but she couldn’t find her words.
Sure, Zoya's been injured before. She's fallen from trees and skateboards. She's broken a couple of bones and gotten nasty cuts. But being stabbed in front of schoolmates takes the cake. She couldn’t shake this one off.
The dull throbbing increased and turned into an excruciating sensation. It was too much. Her eye brows furrowed. Zoya’s brave facade was cracking, and the embarrassment of being so hurt only made it worse.
She was scared.
Eleanor ordered her, voice stern, “Zoya, keep listening to my voice. Keep your eyes open, medics are coming. They’re going to patch you up.”
All Zoya could reply with were restrained nods.
Eleanor’s voice was the lifeline Zoya clung to. Her touch was firm as she pressed down on the wound, the pressure brining both pain and relief at the same time. Zoya’s fingers twitched as she tried to hold Eleanor’s bloodied hand, a wordless plea for support.
“I’ve got you, Zoya,” Eleanor’s voice was a steady anchor. Zoya’s frantic eyes met Eleanor’s gaze, finding comfort in their familiarity of blue and green.
Zoya held onto Eleanor until she couldn’t no longer. Her cold grasp went slack.
Images flickered as her mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Classmates, teachers, police, paramedics. People looking down at her, trying to talk to her.
She sunk deeper and deeper into the icy water as sound begun to fade. Her emotions sputtered to a stop. Soon all was peaceful and quiet, darkness overlapped.
Zoya could rest easy knowing Lilith’s nose would never be straight again.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Thanks for reading!
I understand how difficult it is for original writing to get attention, but I've been thinking about this story for too long and it suffocates out all my other writing ideas. These girls have all my heart ;)
(I should really write some fluff now)
How was it?
Please let me know what you think, or if you found any errors/areas that need improving. I'd really appreciate it!
#writing#original writing#creative writing#original story#my ocs <3#angst#hurt/comfort#writeblr#high school#lovers#teens#reading#whump writing#The White Ravens#Eleanoya#two gay girls in an indie rock band#writers on tumblr#england#sorry Zoya but there’s nothing like breaking your strongest character when they’re at their best#fictional characters#fictional band#Zoya Hoveski#Zoya is hot#Eleanor Beausoleil#long reads#original character
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Original Writing - Fight Scene Chapter (ง'̀-'́)ง
This is the first chapter I’ve written for my story, ‘The White Ravens’, but it’s taking place in the middle of the plot. I still have to write the beginning and end because I’m that person to plan in my brain and never actually write 😅
Background info:
This occurs before my two girlies in their duo, indie-rock band become girlfriends (Zoya and Eleanor).
Zoya is the main character 🎸
Lilith (little, bullying, bitchy antagonist) is part of a duo pop band. She competes fiercely in the local music industry against Zoya and Eleanor.
All characters here are around 17.
Setting: Large high school courtyard in London, late 1980? 🇬🇧
Warnings: blood, physical violence (ofc), swearing (thanks Zoya xxx), stab injury, mention of drugs
Enjoy!
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“Admit it.”
Silent. Lilith went silent. For one in her life, she had nothing to say.
Zoya breathed heavily as she towered over the blond teen, her knuckles going white as she gripped at the collar of Lilith’s shirt. Her heatbeat pounded in her ears.
“Admit it.” Zoya repeated through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, okay,” Lilith’s voice was feeble under false confidence, “ I stole your cassette.”
Zoya’s hand clutched tighter. “Admit everything.”
“I copied your music sample. I published it… as my own. I’m making $1000 a week because of it,” Lilith spoke while trying to maintain eye contact, “There, I said it.”
Zoya’s glare forced Lilith to spill. “Oh, and I did start that rumour about you and the um… drugs.”
Zoya finally got it. A full confession.
It was deisel poured into a pit of fire. Zoya’s grey eyes - usually vibrant and steady - now soiled with blind fury and bloodlust.
A crowd had already gathered. A few peers watched with concern. Most students considered running to get a teacher, then dismissed it at the thought of missing the start of the fight.
Zoya tried to control the flames, but Lilith was a professional arsonist and Zoya couldn’t surpress any longer.
She had already started. In a swift motion, her fist smashed against Lilith’s solar plexus. It sent her stumbling back, gasping for air. Her jaw dropped with disbelief.
Lilith looked at Zoya with eyes that spoke murder. She sprinted towards Zoya, swinging foolishly, but Zoya blocked and dodged.
Lilith loved how her face looked. So Zoya decided to ruin it.
Every punch from Zoya bespoke strength. Although she acted uncontrollably, a small part of her brain told her not to overdo it.
She didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of manslaugher.
“Tired already?” Zoya growled as Lilith panted.
The once cocky and arrogant teen had been reduced to a small, frail girl. Her hair was out of place, makeup smudged, sweat trickled from her forehead. Blood poured from her nose. Bruises had started to form. Her lip swelled.
The crowd yelled and cheered. Some chanted Zoya’s name.
Others looked with horror.
Then Zoya slapped Lilith across the face. Lilith, on her knees and wide-eyed, looked like a child who was getting punished.
Zoya had slapped her. It was as if Zoya told her ‘I’m superior, and you know it. Everybody knows it.’
The reaction from Lilith caused Zoya to smirked derisively. Lilith couldn’t handle it.
Zoya was caught off guard when tackled by Lilith. She was shoved, landing harshly on her hip. Zoya landed a few extra punches on Lilith’s face because of it. After a short scurrying of feet and flinging of hands, Lilith herself ended up immobile, both arms pinned behind her.
Zoya begun pushing the blonde’s arm in an odd angle, slowly putting more weight on it. Lilith eyes watered as she shouted. The terror and agony on Lilith’s face was foreign.
“Stop, please. Just stop.” She sobbed.
“Stop?” Zoya scoffed. “Please. I haven’t even dislocated your shoulder yet.” The words came out eerily. Zoya, fueled by the endless torment Lilith had put her through, was blinded. However. there was still someone who could help her to see.
A familiar voice from the distance grew louder. It was a voice Zoya’s brain would not and could not block out.
“Where is - hey, let me through! Zoya!”
Eleanor pushed her way through the crowd and stood puffing. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.
“Jesus Christ. Zoya, what are you doing?”
Zoya spoke softly, her large, muscular build still pushing Lilith’s arm. It was strange, and she was scolding a second ago. Almost like she was suddenly tired. “Stay out of this, Eleanor.”
Eleanor shouldn’t be seeing this. This is too much. She wanted Eleanor to leave.
Zoya did not look up to meet Eleanor’s gaze, for she knew the influence it would have on her. Zoya would immediately follow whatever instructions she gave out. So instead she focused on the girl below her and whispered again.
“Listen carefully, you cretin. If you keep pissing me off, I’ll-“
Shunk!
The rest of her words were sputtered. There were gasps from the crowd. Everyone stoped moving and time slowed.
Zoya felt as if she had been pushed into icy water. Has she been punched? No, it wasn’t possible. Lilith didn’t have the strength for something like this. She tried to comprehend the weird feeling in her stomach.
But then Eleanor cried out.
She rushed to Zoya, looking distressed and cursing under her breath. “Somebody get a teacher.”
Shit, Zoya thought, recalling the time when she almost ran over a puppy on the road and Eleanor foul-mouthed like a sailor.
It’s never good when Eleanor swears.
Something warm trickled down Zoya’s lower side. Still kneeling, she reached towards the dampness. Her fingers were met with a sticky liquid as well as something cold and metal-like. Zoya glanced down and found a pair of scissors embedded deeply into the side of her abdomen.
Lilith stared, horrified, scrambling to get to her feet. She hurried off, and a few boys sprinted after her.
“That bitch,” Zoya grunted, still kneeling, “she made me stain my school uniform.”
Blood bloomed on her shirt like dark ink on paper.
The floor beneath her swayed as her vision clouded. She shook her head to clear it.
She tried standing.
It worked.
But it felt like she was on a boat.
She tried walking.
Where to? She had no idea. She just wanted to walk away, away from the eyes drilling into her.
Eleanor gently grabbed her arm. “Zoya, I need you to lay down. I’m going to have to put pressure on it.” Her voice was doused in worry but it didn’t wobble.
“I’m fine, I’ve got it.” Zoya croaked, clutching to her side feebly. She tried a smile but it was more of a grimace, her body protesting for every movement she attempted.
Walking didn’t work.
She took a couple of steps and started tumbling forwards.
Eleanor caught her in her arms with enormous effort and placed Zoya on her back.
El pushed down on the the wound with her own school jumper she swiftly took off, trying hard not to move the embedded scissors whist it’s points were possibly prodding organs. Blood seeped through the dark fabric and stained her fingers.
Zoya wanted to apologise for the grime but she couldn’t find her words.
Sure, Zoya's been injured before. She's fallen from trees and skateboards. She's broken a couple of bones and gotten nasty cuts. But being stabbed in front of schoolmates takes the cake. She couldn’t shake this one off.
The dull throbbing increased and turned into an excruciating sensation. It was too much. Her eye brows furrowed. Zoya’s brave facade was cracking, and the embarrassment of being so hurt only made it worse.
She was scared.
Eleanor ordered her, voice stern, “Zoya, keep listening to my voice. Keep your eyes open, medics are coming. They’re going to patch you up.”
All Zoya could reply with were restrained nods.
Eleanor’s voice was the lifeline Zoya clung to. Her touch was firm as she pressed down on the wound, the pressure brining both pain and relief at the same time. Zoya’s fingers twitched as she tried to hold Eleanor’s bloodied hand, a wordless plea for support.
“I’ve got you, Zoya,” Eleanor’s voice was a steady anchor. Zoya’s frantic eyes met Eleanor’s gaze, finding comfort in their familiarity of blue and green.
Zoya held onto Eleanor until she couldn’t no longer. Her cold grasp went slack.
Images flickered as her mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Classmates, teachers, police, paramedics. People looking down at her, trying to talk to her.
She sunk deeper and deeper into the icy water as sound begun to fade. Her emotions sputtered to a stop. Soon all was peaceful and quiet, darkness overlapped.
Zoya could rest easy knowing Lilith’s nose would never be straight again.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Thank you for reading!
I understand how difficult it is for original writing to get attention, but I just can’t get into the habit of writing fanfic again. I’ve been thinking about this story for too long and it suffocates out all my other writing ideas. These girls have all my heart ;)
(I should really write some fluff now)
Please let me know what you think, or if you found any areas that need improving. I’d really appreciate it!
#writing#original writing#wlw#creative writing#original story#angst#hurt/comfort#writeblr#fight scene#oc#high school#lovers#teens#reading#injury#whump#Eleanoya#indie rock#writers on tumblr#england#punch up#Sorry Zoya but there’s nothing like breaking your strongest character when they’re at their best#what do I tag? everything?#fictional characters#fictional band#Zoya Hoveski#Zoya is hot#Eleanor Beautifif#two gay girls in a indie-rock band#The White Ravens
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
More Myself Than I Am - Chapter II
Chapter 2/?
Wordcount 3,5k
Title A Good Guy
Fandom Bungo Stray Dogs
Pairing Ryuunosuke Akutagawa X reader
Previous chapter
1
Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛
Warning (s): brief mention of panic attack in a public space
Tagging @lasidollily @darling-imobsessed (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)
N. A.: So he's finally among us! Yay! I hope I haven't failed in giving Akutagawa a proper introduction, though this story is simple, direct if compared to other stuff I've wrote before. In this one I want to concentrate in the facts above everything, without leaving the passionate trait of my personal style aside though. Since there's some mystery included, things and people will be introduced little by little, maybe not with the same richness of details from other stories of mine, but just enough to make them important to the whole.
Also, about their names: I know, I KNOW the BSD Japanese characters have the names of Japanese writers, but there's a reason why I chose non Japanese names for my original characters, as you will see.
Anyways I hope you enjoy this new chapter :)
While you cleaned the tables, you were silently thanking the calmness inside the bakery at the last hours of that day: most of the costumers already left, and the few ones still there were preparing to go.
Your boss and your team mates didn’t make any comments, but they sensed you weren’t in the mood for conversations. Two days passed since Virginia’s last crisis and you were still embarrassed for suddenly requesting a day off in order to stay with her. Since things were complicated those days because of the employee on vacation, you knew you were granted with a big favor – but you didn’t like how it felt: most of your colleagues were familiar with your situation and even understood it, but it was always a reason for tension, at least on your side. When those episodes happened, you would always try to compensate working twice as hard and not causing any problems, but that didn’t contribute much to your relief.
On the other side of the street, the sun was almost gone behind the buildings; as you saw it through the glass wall, the redness of its last rays would spread as a vivid background to the rosy, thick clouds above. People were now going back to their homes, some of them entering to buy treats for their children or for themselves, then leaving quickly.
That day left a strange feeling in you, not only for the already mentioned reasons, but for something else. Everything was the same, of course, but you couldn’t shake the idea that something was missing. Were you forgetting to do some tasks or anything?
You were finishing the cleaning session before the end of the shift now, and were back to the thoughts about your sister. While you stood with her the other day, you noticed some strange marks on her skin, like the ones one gain when they bump into the furniture or such. You were going to ask her about it, but other matters kept you occupied and you forgot the fact, only recalling it now. Did she talk about it to the doctor at some point? This could explain why he prescribed a medicine that worked for physical pain… You sighed. Your head has been so noisy those days that from time to time you had to stop it before you got paranoid.
The sound of the front door being opened pulled you out of these thoughts. When you turned to it and saw who was coming in, a silence took over your mind and your surroundings as well, for you understood where that sensation of lacking something was coming from.
You still haven’t seen him today.
Through the door passed a young man dressed in a black coat with high collar, having a white jabot around his neck and frills of the same color covering his wrists, setting off the natural paleness of his skin, only visible on his hands and face, this latter framed by his short, dark hair that ended in thin, greyish locks on each side. Grey was also the color of his eyes, above which he had a pair of light eyebrows, almost absent; his thin lips, as pale as the rest of the skin, only emphasized the serene dignity in his posture.
In fact, it was a curious appearance: one could say he was a hero who escaped from the pages of a gothic novel, but his modern hairstyle would leave no doubts about his true place and time. When he entered the bakery, some people glanced toward him, but the not so friendly look with which they were received was a quiet sign for them to go back to their own business.
When he closed the door behind his back, his gaze passed through the place and stopped on you; your cheeks burned and you were forced to look down to the table.
You continued to work while hearing his slow steps toward it, only raising your face when he spoke to you.
– Evening, y/n-san – he nodded.
You replied accordingly.
– Evening, Akutagawa-kun.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was his name. He used to come earlier and spend some time on the same table – that one you were cleaning right now – enjoying his own company with a cup of tea and a treat while observing the people outside.
You still remember, it took weeks of frequent visits until you discovered your respective names. You also found out he was one year younger than you and had a sister; you even suggested him to bring the girl one day, but until that moment he only appeared alone.
Despite his reserved manners, he was the one who first introduced himself. It was funny, now that you thought of it: since his first day there, he took the initiative in every interaction between you, from asking to be served by you to engaging in conversations that would only last until the second or third question and answer. However, months have passed and he still maintained the formalities of the beginning. If you were asked about the reason behind his preference for your services, you would say you hadn’t the slightest idea, but since no harm came from this strange friendship you just followed the etiquette and gave him the good treatment a loyal costumer deserved.
You asked what he was going to have this time and he replied he wanted the same, except for a bottle of water instead of the usual tea. You were about to offer him the table, but he explained he wouldn’t stay that time and asked for a plastic bag to keep the order. You arranged everything and gave it to him.
After thanking you for this small gentleness, he found appropriate to exchange a few words with you before heading to the exit...
But the way he did it made your eyes widen a bit.
– You didn’t show up yesterday.
Though there was politeness in his tone, you couldn’t help sensing a demanding trait in it. What an uncommon way to express preoccupation, you thought to yourself.
Still, you told him the truth.
– My sister had a crisis, so I took the day off to take care of her.
– I see – he replied – I hope she’s feeling better now.
You smiled.
– She does. Thank you.
– Did you call the doctor?
– Yes – your fingers clenched around the cloth you were using to clean the table – He prescribed some medicine, which she’s going to take for this entire week.
Akutagawa was the person who gave you the doctor’s number. There was this day when you came to work moments after helping Virginia with a crisis and tried to concentrate on your tasks as best as possible, but your uneasiness didn’t go unnoticed by him. When you told him what happened, he gave you a small card with the doctor’s name and phone and told you to introduce yourself mentioning his name in case you needed his services.
When Virginia panicked again, you were in the middle of a street, with no apparent source of stress or triggering elements around. The first thing you remembered was the card.
This was the conversation you had on the phone:
– Hello?
– Hello? Is this Dr. Ougai’s number?
– Yes. Who is it?
– I’m y/n s/n. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke gave me your number. He’s a client of mine. I have my sister with me and she’s having a panic crisis. We’re far from home now… can you please come and help us?
– Of course. Tell me the address and how she’s feeling now.
You gave him the requested information and stood with Virginia until he arrived.
You always thought you haven’t appropriately thanked your costumer for such favor, so you took the opportunity now.
– It was too gentle from your part to indicate him – you commented – He’s been helping us a lot these months.
Akutagawa didn’t give you a verbal response, but nodded in acknowledgment. He was about to leave, but still had a request.
– May I ask how long you will stay before your shift ends?
You were a bit surprised, but didn’t refuse to answer.
– A few minutes. We're already finishing here.
– Would you mind if I walk you home? – and, as if justifying his request in face of your surprise, – I've heard that some delinquents have been seen around lately. It is already getting dark. It might be dangerous to walk alone.
You didn’t make any effort to disguise your feelings when you sensed the warmth raising to your cheeks: that was the first time he suggested anything outside the bakery. It was curious, even funny, how things worked with him: his quietness could be taken for shyness by someone who is not familiar with him, but once you established some bond, his honest, direct manners would show, and you would end up understanding that he was far from shy. Akutagawa’s line of action was a counterpoint to your own hesitating nature, and despite not having him as an intimate friend, you found some sort of comfort whenever you interacted with him, as if the daily stress, the countless minutiae around which you were often trapped had no importance when you spoke to each other.
And as a sign of respect for this feeling, you could only give him a positive answer.
– It would be good to have company.
It was then decided that you would organize your things while he waited for you in the bookstore on the same street.
***
When you entered the store, you went through the shelves looking for him, but he was nowhere at sight.
You passed by a shelve with classics, still looking around, until a book caught your attention and you stopped to take a look at it. It was indeed a beautiful work: a reddish-brown hard cover decorated with a delicate floral pattern on the edges and the spine; the title, carved in golden lettering, shared the front with an oval illustration of a countryside landscape, with the silhouettes of a young couple under a tree and a mansion on the top of a hill in the background.
You were so fascinated with the volume that you almost forgot why you were there…
But you were soon reminded.
– Wuthering Heights. Hm.
You startled a bit when you heard him mumbling over your shoulder, but smiled at the fact that he was familiar with the title.
– It is the best and the worst book I’ve ever read in my life – you commented without taking your eyes off the cover – It’s a beautiful story about terrible people. But can we say we’re better than them?
Akutagawa seemed to think of this.
– Sometimes I’m tempted to think we’re worse.
Despite being familiarized to his steady speech, you weren’t expecting such comeback: that was the tone of someone who knew what they were talking about. Was he referring to himself, or to some people he met? If you were a closer friend to him, you’d certainly ask, but you had to keep silence about it out of respect for the circumstances.
You spent a moment looking at the cover, then turned to see the back. You found the price tag... and swallowed.
– I really wanted to buy this edition, but I guess I’ll leave it to another day – you put it back on its place on the shelve – Shall we?
He nodded, not without a last look at the book, and followed you outside.
***
There was less movement on the sidewalks now. The sky was yet to be covered by the blackness of night, but the streetlights were already working: under them, some workers were still heading home, and the sellers were saying goodbye to their last clients before pinning the closed signs on their doors. The streets would be darker and quieter if it wasn’t for the traffic; at some point, a horn was heard, followed by loud swearing: an accident almost happened, but soon the cars moved away from each other and the case was forgotten. You were still looking at the street when a cat appeared out of nowhere and crossed your way, disappearing into an alley; you stopped right before stumbling in the animal, then chuckled at your own distraction.
None of this were new to you. That was what you would find in all the evenings after leaving the bakery. Your eyes were so used to those things that they were no longer seen by them. That time was different only because you were not alone: the quiet presence of Akutagawa somehow changed your impression of everything, as someone who introduces a stranger to their personal space, allowing him to discover a part of their daily life that though had moderate importance, would help to understand who they were outside their usual meeting point.
You didn’t talk much, yet there was no embarrassment between you. Instead of the expected strangeness of a first encounter in a new environment, there was curiosity: why did he choose to walk you home that day and not before? Was he expecting something? Should you ask him about it? Well, truth is that a conversation that starts with such questions would be rather annoying, so you soon left them aside.
At first, you limited your sentences to indicate the directions you should take, while he would make simple, brief questions about the places you were passing by.
– So… you always take this very path to come and go?
– Most of the times, yes. I change it once or twice a week, when I need to go to a store or have other appointments.
– It’s quite a walk.
– I agree. But I don’t have many opportunities to work out, so I walk as much as I can – and after a moment in silence, – Sometimes, when I am too tired, I take the bus and reach home in five minutes or less. But, if I’m being honest, walking alone through these streets is my way to rest.
Akutagawa didn’t reply to that, less because he didn’t know what to say than because there was nothing to add. You didn’t mind it: part of the comfort you felt in his company came from the fact that you both recognized your inability in making small talk, even if you’ve never said a word to each other about it.
At some moment, you heard him cough. He reached for the water bottle right after. You waited until he put it back in the bag to say something.
– Your health seemed okay in the previous days.
Contrary to the expectations, he showed no irritation towards the subject.
– These good periods happen from time to time, but my condition is chronic. It is a consequence from the environment in which I spent part of my childhood.
You didn’t ask for details nor questioned where he used to live. Wherever this place was or how long he had to live in it, it didn’t matter now; all he could do was to take care of what remained form his health now, even if it was little. That was something you sort of respected in him, too: the practical treatment he would give to most of the things. In one of his first visits to the bakery, he had a coughing crisis while you were serving him; the first thing you did was to offer him a glass of water, which he accepted, and since then you would bring water alongside his orders, unless when he said it wasn’t necessary.
You crossed a street and recognized the top of your building ahead.
– We’re almost reaching my home – you indicated the building – It’s in the next corner.
You were approaching the entry when you saw a group standing on the sidewalk, engaged in a cheerful conversation: the first, a girl with curly, brown hair, wearing an elegant dress with flowing skirt, had her arm entwined with a young man’s, a bit older than her; the man, a blonde, tall individual with a large smile and a high pitch tone, was now occupied in telling some funny story to her and to the second girl, a brunette creature with her hair tied in a high bun and dark blue clothing.
You recognized your sisters and Virginia’s boyfriend, Arthur.
The three interrupted the chatting and greeted you with gentleness, but were a bit surprised to see you had company.
You made the introductions.
– Guys, this is Akutagawa Ryunosuke. He’s a client at the bakery. Today he offered himself to make me company on my way home.
Arthur said a low “Evening” to the other man and the girls gave him modest smiles. Akutagawa nodded at them.
You turned to him.
– Akutagawa-kun, these are my sisters, Virginia and Frances, and this is Arthur, Virginia’s boyfriend.
Arthur opened his largest smile and was the first to speak after the formalities.
– Hey, y/n-chan! Virginia-chan needs to cheer up a bit, so we’re heading to that new restaurant at … Street. Wanna join us? – and turning to your partner – The gentleman can come if he wishes, too!
Akutagawa’s gaze turned to you, waiting for you to reply first, which you did.
– I’m sorry, Arthur, but I’m tired. We had one less member in our team today so I had to work twice as hard – and adding a smile to compensate the group’s frustration, – You three, go and have fun!
As you imagined he would do, Akutagawa made his decision according to your own.
– Thank you for the invitation, but I have my own appointments as well. Goodnight – and turning to you – See you, y/n-san.
You smiled in response.
– See you. Get better.
He mumbled a “Thank you” and left with steady steps. There was a second of silence after that and, before you could find an excuse to enter the building, the conversation continued.
– You have such a lovely clientele, my sister-in-law – Arthur commented, raising his eyebrow in a manner that didn’t please you at all – But I bet he’s a good guy. There are a few who do small favors like this to a girl they barely know nowadays.
You wouldn’t describe your own connection with Akutagawa that way. It was true that you weren’t the closest friends, but you weren’t strangers to each other as Arthur suggested. In any case, you sensed it would be useless to try and explain this to him or to your sisters, so you decided to not reply to that.
You were about to pass to the front door and end the talking, but you couldn’t ignore when Frances added a comment that was certainly lingering in her tongue since your client turned his back on the group.
– Maybe he enjoys acting like he’s in the wrong century, Arthur. Didn’t you see those clothes? – she chuckled – Who are you to judge?
Arthur shrugged, oblivious to her cunning tone.
– And who said I’m being judgmental? I’m just pointing a fact!
Sometimes Arthur’s lack of perception – or the purposeful cluelessness in his attitude – used to irritate Frances to the point she would stop speaking to him as if he wasn’t even there, then find someone else to continue her train of thought. That time, she chose you.
– By the way, why did you wish him to get better, y/n-chan? Is he sick?
You gave her a brief reply.
– His health is fragile, that’s all.
The girl frowned, not satisfied.
– I see. He indeed looks like someone with consumption.
That comment, though the seriousness in which it was made, provoked in you an angry that scared even yourself, for it was a feeling that you only thought to be possible in case Frances has insulted an intimate friend or a lover of yours.
Now, you really had to end that conversation.
– Well, whatever it is, his condition is none of our business, since he doesn’t talk about it even to me. But you don’t need to worry, because he’s not helpless in this sense – you turned to Virginia – Dr. Ougai, who treats you, is his friend. He was the one who indicated his services.
Virginia’s eyes widened a bit in genuine surprise, since you haven’t share this fact with her until that moment, but she didn’t say anything; she wanted that chatting to end as much as you. Frances opened her mouth and closed it again, only managing to mumble a “Well...”
Arthur, though he swallowed when Dr. Ougai’s name was heard, was the one who had the most decent reaction among the three.
– So, it seems that he has been a great help for you, girls – and with a cheerful laugh – A gentleman, really!
You passed by them and headed to the door, again wishing them to have fun.
When they moved away on the sidewalk, you glanced to the direction took by Akutagawa to see if he was still under your sight. And for some seconds, he was: you saw when a black car stopped beside him; he opened the right door, on the back seat, and entered.
The car moved and disappeared after turning a corner.
#bsd akutagawa#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa ryunosuke x reader
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Right person, Wrong time || Cap. 1
A/N: Hi! This is my first ever fanfic and english is not my first language so feel free if you have some advice. The idea of this story has been on my mind for a few weeks now and i just need it to write it down. It was gonna be a y/nxeddie but i need a name to make some “jokes” for the similarity with Steve’s :/ Hope you like it this first bit chap!
eddie munson x original character (Could be y/n if you want to)
Summary: After the bats incident on the upside down where he was about to die Eddie is taken to a very well known doctor: Maeve Harrington, Steve little cousin. Who he hasn’t seen her in years and with whom he shares a past in which they did not get along so well and things ended badly
__________
She screamed when the crack on the ground divided the road into two in front on their faces, she even covered her face getting ready to fall for it but the blonde man driving slammed on his brakes just in time. Rick looked at the girl to make sures he was okay. Her sunglasses flew to the back seats of the car and, now that they were looking at each other, he could clearly see her scar across the right part of her face and her white eye. But he stopped himself and looked back at the road.
- What the fuck?!? –they both yelled at the same time. The journey from the airport to here it had been intense already cause Rick keep telling the dark haired woman all the news around Hawkins. She was still shaking when he decided to back off and find another way to get to her cousin’s house.
- Is this one of those fuckery paranormal shits your cousin told you about??!? –he didnt meant to, but he was basically screaming at her. His hand were strongly grabbing the steering wheel while driving like a total maniac.
- I DON’T KNOW! –she had both hands on the dashboard, trying not to hit her head againts anything due to the car bouncing. Rick had decided to go offroad and take a shortcut.- Could be… We haven't talked about that for a long time. I don’t even know where he is!? He was supposed to be the one to pick me up at the airport.
Along the way to his house they came across several cars running away from the village, even Rick asked her several times if she preferred to go elsewhere. But she needed to know if her family was okay.
When they arrived they both got out of the car and ran inside the house, thank God it was intact and none of the cracks had caused serious damage. Apart from some broken frames and different objects thrown on the ground due to the earthquake.
But the house was empty. His cousin had told her that his parents were on a business trip this week so she knew they were fine. But… where was he? Immediately the house phone began to ring and she ran towards it, pushing Rick away. She immediately recognized the number it was calling.
- Hi? Hello? -On the other side of the line you could only hear screams, cries?... the sound made her skin crawl and sent a shiver down her spine.
- Maeve! -Steve's voice was a bunch of feelings. He was alive! But was he okay?- I need your help! WE need your help! –he emphasized the word “WE”. He sounded overwhelmed, distressed and even scared.
- What? Where are you? –her words were running faster than her own brain.- Why are you even calling from Eddie’s house? –Rick quickly looked at her and got to her side and got closer to the phone. Couldn’t help but slightly smile at how close they were.
- Eddie is dying! –Steve’s scream was heartbreaking. And both of them felt like theirs legs were jelly and the floor was swalling them, she even lost balance for a second but Rick grabbed her arm and kept her standing.- He is loosing so much blood! –on the background there were still screams and that crying someone that kept saying “Please hold on”, “Don’t leave us” and “You can’t do this to me”. Female voices were also shouting that they must put pressure on the wounds.
From everything Rick had told her, Maeve knew they couldn't take him to a hospital since they wanted him for murder. She had notions of medicine, in her country she had already finished high school since there they graduate at 16 years old. And after that, she had started a degree in nursing and worked in a hospital thanks to her parents' contacts, even without have completed her studies.
- Grandma's summer house! -the girl exclaimed suddenly.- Take him there, I'll be there. -They didn't even know if the house was still standing, but it had enough material to treat an injured person because when her grandmother was ill, she and her father took care of her in that house and she knew that everything was still there.
She hung up the phone and grabbed Rick by the jacket dragging him out to the car. She felt like she was short of breath, that her head was spinning and that she was going to vomit. She didn't know the difference between nerves, fear or jet lag.
- I need to go to the hospital, I have medical accreditation. My mother gave it to me before coming in case I had any problems. They won't give me any trouble -Rick just nodded into his own world. These days he had been worried about Eddie but neither those thugs nor the police had found him and that was good news but now he was dying and Steve Harrington, who hated him, was with him.
- Eddie is B- -His voice was calm but rough. She gulped at that, it meant he could only receive from another B- or 0-.
- It won't take long, I know the hospital. I don't think much has changed in my absence. Keep the car running and ready to go. –She wanted it to sound like an order, but she was almost at the verge of tears. When she reached out to grab the backpack from the back seats she noticed how the fingers on her hand were trembling. She picked up the glasses she had dropped earlier and sighed heavily.
- Calm down, I need you focused -Rick knew all about Maeve's history. Her relationship with her family, her scar, her past with Eddie, all and absolutely all of her problems. And she knew everything, or almost everything about Rick. He often didn't want to involve her in matters that would tarnish her family's name or put her in the crosshairs of the police or some dangerous person. The black haired woman only smiled slightly at him as she nodded.
Once they arrived, she jumped out of the barely running car and entered the building. On her favor, the hospital was so full of wounded people and was so chaotic that no one noticed when she borrowed a white gown from a rack and slipped into the room where the donated blood was stored. She had no idea even how much she would need, not even if she would arrive in time to use it, if all the efforts and rushing would be in vain.
As if something had electrocuted her, she took a quick step over to the freezers and looked at the labels. With her glasses on she found it difficult to read so she decided to take them off and put them on the pocket of the gown. Would she be recognized her by her scar? The accident was about 4 years ago and it is a small town, everyone knew what had happened. And the cherry on top was her blind eye that did not go unnoticed either. But that didn't matter now, if she was caught she would run for her life, for Eddie's and she would kill in the process if necessary.
She took several bags of B- and on her way out she found a cart with all kinds of surgical material. She filled his hands with gauze, thread, needles, iodine, among other things… and went to the room where she knew they kept the medicines with her head down and almost sprinting. She could only hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears and Steve's desperate voice. Since when did Steve get along with Eddie? She needed context of the whole situation. She also took a bunch of medicine, even knowing that at this time many people would need it, she took as much as she could. She was selfish, she always had been either because of the family she grew up in and because no one had done anything for her. The thing is, she hated Hawkins as a town, and after everything Rick had told her and the false accusations about Eddie…she would have loved to take all just to watch them suffer.
She ran down the hospital corridor dodging people, she thought she saw familiar faces but she didn't care. Her watch said it only took 6 minutes but it felt like hours and Rick's car seemed miles away. When she got to the car she jumped in and the blonde made the car fly to the next destination.
He already knew the house. He had already been there to drop off goods for Maeve or her friends and her parties. But this time it was different, he had never before traveled the dirt road so fast. Several times they nearly ran off the road causing the girl to shriek and curse in both English and her native language. In the rearview mirror some lights appeared from a vehicle that was going with the same accelerated pace as them.
- Eddie's van –they both whispered at the same time. Today they seemed to be connected. She immediately put on her sunglasses.
When they got to the front door of the house Rick skidded her car and she ran out of it to turn on everything inside the house. The house was big: as soon as they entered they had a large living room and on the right a solid wooden door that led to the room where she was going to put Eddie. In the center of the room was the stretcher with a multiparameter monitor among other things. She quickly took the things out of the backpack and got everything ready as fast as she could.
- Bring him in now! –she yelled but got no answer and backed up on her steps to the entrance of the house.
She froze. Steve and Rick held on to Eddie as best as they could while they climbed the steps to the front door. Eddie was pale, more than normal, covered in blood and bitten? all over his body and clothes. She couldn't move, she was in shock. She took a few seconds to react and indicate where they should leave him. She noticed a curly-haired boy not moving away from Eddie. She recognized the crying and screaming from him immediately.
- Eddie hold on! –he grabbed his arm almost lifelessly from him.
- I need him here and i need you to help me undress him! -She held out a pair of scissors to each of them. Steve stared at her, they haven’t see each other for a long time and it made his heart skip a beat to see her trembling hand with the scissors. Even her voice trembled. They both obeyed her, there would be time to catch up and hug and greet each other.- What the hell happened? –she questioned looking at the horrific wounds and bites all over his body.
- Who are you? –the boy suddenly asked in a hostile tone.- What are you doing to him? -but she ignored him. She started hooking Eddie up to the monitors, and loaded a needle with adrenaline.- WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO INJECT HIM? HE IS DYING!
She gave Steve a severe look. And he immediately understood it.
- Hey Dustin get out of here now, I'll tell you everything later. Let her work. -She injected it into Eddie. And she looked at the monitors, he had a weak pulse.
- NO! Eddie is dying and you bring us to a stranger's house instead of a hospital. He is going to die and it's your fault! -The boy was fully faced with Steve who was between her and the boy. Steve grabbed Dustin by the t-shirt and getting down to his height so their face could be at the same level said.
- Henderson, this is my cousin, okay? She's friends with Eddie, she's a doctor. She knows what she's doing, she's going to save him. –Dustin then observed the mysterious woman. She was completely focused on what she was doing, as was her blonde friend. Dustin didn't quite understand why she was wearing sunglasses but he noticed how her cheeks were drenched in tears. Steve started dragging him to the door of the room where Robin and Nancy were and they took him to the living room.
- Thank you –Maeve whispered. She was tending the wounds along with Rick and preparing the bags to start a blood transfusion. She took two seconds to stare at Eddie's face and this didn't go unnoticed by her two companions who looked at each other. She cleaned and stitched up the wounds on his cheeks.
His hair was much longer than the last time she had seen him, his face was the same angelic face but his chest was much more toned and his arms had more muscle.
- Ironically, the only uninjured tattoo is this one – said Rick as he pointed at the bats. She had the same on her ribs, he stick and poked on her. She did not know 3 of the 5 tattoos. The directed her gaze to Eddie's legs. Full of wounds, scars and bruises. She took care of the most serious injuries.- He is going to get out of this, right?
She looked at the monitors, his pulse was still really weak and he was barely breathing. She started the blood transfusion that was going to take hours to complete.
- Yes, I hope so –she let out a small smile to reassure the boys and she quietly wiped her cheeks and lifted her glasses a little to dry her eyes.
If you like it. Please let me know it. Very much appreciated! :)
#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson x female oc#eddie munson x y/n#reefer rick
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head
Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.
Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).
Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.
Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.
Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.
Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.
Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.
Clarity...
The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.
Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.
A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.
After a moment of consideration, she typed out:
Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?
That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.
Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...
Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.
She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.
She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.
Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.
Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.
Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.
This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.
But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.
Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.
She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.
Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.
If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.
The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.
Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?
She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.
Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.
Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.
How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?
Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.
Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.
Nothing much.
She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.
She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.
Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.
I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.
Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.
It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.
Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.
My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.
What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?
Would it go away?
Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.
I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.
-
You do?
-
Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?
He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.
Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.
Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.
She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.
I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.
He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.
But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.
Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.
As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.
I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.
-
Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.
-
Thanks.
She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.
She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.
Sorry.
Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.
But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.
"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."
She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.
She was ready.
...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.
Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.
—————
Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.
She also set it on vibrate just in case.
There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.
Marinette!
Is everything okay?
Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?
Marinette?
The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:
Sorry. I had to run from my parents.
I'm okay. What about you?
-
You're alright. I'm so glad.
I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.
-
That's good. Be careful.
-
You too.
She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.
Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:
I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.
Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.
Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.
She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."
And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.
Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.
Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.
Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.
#MC's Writing#writing: story#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#category: salt#episode: Hack San#other: ask and answer#((tbh depending on how much Marinette explains it to him))#((poor boi's gonna have one hell of a revelation in ''Wishmaker''))#((suddenly the Adrien crush influence she explained is gonna make sense))#((and he feels bad for ever supporting it even if he had no way of knowing.))
371 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life After Luck (Black Panther!Shinsou x Reader)
Art credit: Pixiv ID 123370838
Warnings: harassment, descriptions of injuries and blood, mention of a past character death (minor) and violence, angst, fluff, protective Shinsou and endearing dad!Shinsou.
A/N: second work for @ultimate-astridwriting hybrid collab!!
Words: 9.4k
You and Shinsou had been seeing each other secretly for years. And in the famed city of Musutafu where the existence of hybrids were extremely rare, that wasn’t exactly an easy feat.
The statistics varied around the globe but the general trend ended up to be less than 5% of the world’s population being born with some kind of animal trait.
Because they were so rare, most humans lived out their whole lives without encountering a hybrid in person once, but for the odd individual, sometimes they would catch a glimpse.
Ever since he was young, Shinsou had to fight every step of the way to get what he wanted. He had to work harder than most just for the mere scraps of attention from scouts that came to search for those with talent to become future heroes, but he never once complained. Until a fight broke out at school, the jocks beating him up in the cafeteria, calling his aspiration to be a hero stupid while everyone else just sat there and watched.
They called him all sorts of horrible names that made his skin crawl and at the end of it all, they didn’t even get punished for starting the fight. He did.
After that, he stomped away from the school grounds and never looked back.
Overcoming life’s great trials, he made a name for himself in his own community in Japan with the help of his mentor, Aizawa.
The scruffy man demanded that he at least get the bare minimum of an education with him if he really refused to go back to his original school, and that’s how the odd pair that resembled father and son more than anyone else ended up getting homeschooled by the veteran underground pro.
Eventually, the once scrawny black panther without a quirk transformed into a seasoned pro that Japan’s law enforcement called on whenever a case called for his skills.
Shinsou’s hybrid traits made it easy for him to sneak around despite his size, making him one of the idealistic hires when police needed someone for undercover work. Coupled with the prowess of his build body, he was more than capable to takedown whatever targets were given to him.
Once he reached adulthood, he left the police reserves and went out on his own, seeking a life that lacked the emergency sirens and ways of deceit that it had been filled with previously.
He bounced around from job to job, starting from the bottom up. He washed dishes in a kitchen for a restaurant then went on to be a cashier and then finally worked on the side of the road, cleaning up litter left behind by inconsiderate people.
Shinsou found that over time, he appreciated doing those jobs more and got fulfillment out of it that he didn’t find before.
Little things that happened daily put an extra spring in his step, like strolling down the street and seeing an elder needing help to get across. The simple actions of holding open the door or complimenting someone in hopes of making their day, it was so much clearer than it had been before.
That wasn’t to say that life was a walk in the park for the estranged panther. He still got comments about his appearance when his hood slipped off or from people who looked closely enough spotted his tail, but he no longer cared. His self-worth didn’t rely on pleasing them.
He was done with trying to blend in with the humans. He was different and he was proud of it.
Shinsou’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened every time someone muttered something not-so-kind under their breath but he pushed on out of sheer determination, shoving it down until he could process it and release the feelings that came with it. He didn’t want to be the type of person who held a grudge.
Nothing good came out of that.
It was hard, but he had an example to set. He didn’t want his son to end up like the person he used to be.
A loner, an outcast, filled with so much anger aimed at the world that he lacked the ability to get along with anybody. And he didn’t want that for his son.
Naoki. His five-year-old kid with as much spunk as you had.
His wife of seven years.
Shinsou had met you on the eve of a grand ball being hosted in honor of Midoriya’s birthday, a party thrown for the Number One Hero by his large circle of friends. The black panther hybrid had been serving as protection for the night to Kaminari, an old human friend of his from high school who had hooked him up with a steady job within his own company.
Private security.
Since his panther genes gave him a much more built physique, Shinsou didn’t have any troubles convincing the big boss that he was the right fit for being a bodyguard. Coupled with his impressive background, that sealed the deal in one go.
Shinsou had been over at the bar getting a drink for the hyperactive blond conversing with his other guard, Jirou, when it happened.
The grand doors to the Victorian ballroom opened and in you entered, causing everyone’s jaws to drop to the floor.
Your floor-length gown was breathtaking. Diamonds glittered on soft skin from where the expensive necklace sat just above your collarbone. Ruby heels peeked out from under your dress as you floated through the entryway, coming to a stop at the balcony high above all the guests’ heads.
White chiffon skirts sweeping the marble tile, your satin heels clicked against the floor as you strode in, your chin turned delicately at the audible gasp that left the doorman.
An easy smile popped up on your features as he hastily apologized for staring and you brushed it off with an airy wave of your hand.
Shinsou didn’t even know if you were aware of all the eyes on you as you glided down the steps and warmly greeted Todoroki, the one who actually reserved the ballroom for the night, and Bakugou, one of your oldest friends.
Thank Eraserhead for his enhanced hearing.
However, Shinsou practically fainted when you walked over to him, commenting that he looked nice right before introducing yourself. The dress code that he had previously complained about to Kaminari earlier went out the window as soon as his eyes settled on you, drinking in your figure.
You were the embodiment of a goddess.
At that point, he wasn’t sure if he died and went to heaven or what, but he knew one thing. You were absolutely breathtaking.
Your elegance, your ease and instant kindness whenever you interacted with someone had him weak in the knees.
You were a vision.
Radiating pure light and beauty.
Sliding over to him, Kaminari had flashed him a cocky grin and reassured him that Jirou could handle his responsibilities if he, oh, wanted to pay a visit to a particularly stunning girl.
Jirou, his right-hand woman, swatted the electric blond’s shoulder as he doubled over with laughter but calmly told Shinsou that if he wanted to stroll around for a little while before coming back, then well, there certainly was nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun.
Blushing, he refused, claiming he couldn’t possibly leave Kaminari alone that long. He would find a way to set something on fire somehow.
The man had a weird affinity with fire.
Shinsou busied himself with the glasses, pouring the drinks that he had originally came over to get and he was about to get back to Jirou and Kaminari, both who suspiciously disappeared from sight, when he glanced up and saw you in all your splendor.
Right in front of him.
The crystal flutes he had been holding smashed onto the floor, clear shards flying everywhere. All heads turned to him but this time, the attention was unwanted.
Shinsou was frantic, trying to amend his mistake before you saw, even though that was literally impossible at this point, and Kaminari popped up out of nowhere, intervening before the enraged caterer could say some not-so-kind words to him.
That was fortunate for him.
What wasn’t as fortunate was you crouching down the second you heard the crash, disregarding everyone else’s shouts for you to be careful as you raced to his side, bending down to help.
“Are you alright?!” You asked, eyes wide with panic when your gaze landed on his palms and you froze. “Oh no, you’re bleeding!!”
The next ten minutes consisted of him adamantly refusing to let you help him clean up the shattered crystal and you arguing against him. Shinsou was forced to cave into you as you insisted on helping, threatening to haul him into your car to take him to the hospital yourself if he didn’t at least let you look at it, so he wasn’t left with much of a choice.
It wasn’t long before all the dangerous fragments were swept up and once the situation was handled, you led him out of the way to tend to his injuries.
Shinsou was quiet the entire way out, only protesting when you finally reached your destination of the nearest single stall bathroom. Here, at least it was quieter than the party that had resumed out there. Definitely wasn’t his crowd, but he wasn’t about to stomp all over the opportunity that Kaminari gave him just because he was a bit uncomfortable.
He could handle it. He was a panther, for crying out loud.
His frame was broad, his sharp indigo eyes terrifying and he was tougher than anyone else out there.
And yet, you didn’t flinch away from his wary gaze, going so far as to tend to the cuts and scraps on his bare hands, disinfecting them gently before bandaging them up in soft gauze you found in the cabinet.
It wasn’t odd to have amenities at an event like this where some kind of physical discourse was bound to happen. You knew it well.
Shinsou eyed you while you worked. “... I didn’t catch your name.”
If you were put off by the low drawl edged with a slight growl clearly meant to intimidate you, you didn’t show it at all.
Shrugging nonchalantly, you ducked your head somewhat shyly as you tied off the cotton. “L/N. L/N, Y/N.”
Shinsou smirked. “Nice to meet you.”
You flashed him a grin. “Likewise.”
This time, he was the one to look down shyly as his heart skipped a beat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his newly banadaged palm as you wrapped the other one. “... Thanks for doing that.”
The snort that left you had him doing a double take.
“Thanks for letting me.” You retorted, tugging a bit harder on the end of the gauze to emphasize your exasperation with his earlier stubbornness and Shinsou winced, already regretting it.
“Sorry about that.” He murmured. He didn’t want to be on your bad side already. He had just met you.
Your gaze softened a tad as you picked up on the genuine strain in his voice. “It’s okay.”
After you finished tending to his injury, giving him a lame excuse why you knew first-aid so well, the two of you returned to the ball.
He let it go. For some reason, he had a feeling he shouldn’t pry.
Shinsou readjusted his tie, knowing that if he didn’t, Kaminari would do it for him. That’s just the type of person the electric blond was. It was hella annoying.
But his indigo gaze kept on you the entire time as your skirts swept across the floor, capturing all the attention of the guests once again.
Shinsou tapped the rim of the champagne glass to his lips contemplatively, mulling something over in his mind.
He saw through your weak excuse that you just knew how to do first-aid. He spotted the way your hands shook when you saw the blood, no matter how shallow the laceration was, and he couldn’t help but do a little bit of digging.
Jirou helped him find out that you weren’t a doctor or a nurse. In fact, you weren’t in any kind of profession in the medical field.
While Shinsou was slightly glad you weren’t so that he wouldn’t run into you when missions went sideways, he was more disappointed than anything else.
What if he never saw you again after tonight?
The thought of today being the last time he laid eyes on you was too much for him to bear and even though he tried to keep his distance, tried to stomp out the blossoming warmth in his chest for you when you giggled and threw him a smile through the crowd with logic, nothing worked.
Shinsou gathered his courage and with a push from Kaminari, literally, he had a date with the bashful bartender by the end of the night.
Waving goodbye to you after he walked you to his car, his arm dropped back down to his side as you drove off into the night. This is going to be fun...
Two weeks passed by and he still had yet to see you.
At first, he was the one to get called away. Kaminari needed him for a gig while he closed a deal on the nightclub that he owned that he was looking to expand. Apparently, Jirou and Sero were unavailable. He apologized profusely, promising to make it up to you, but you didn’t even mind.
You understood that sometimes life just happened and things got in the way. He had nothing to be sorry for. You rescheduled for the following week.
That was when you got called away. Family emergency.
Shinsou spent twenty minutes on the phone with you, promising that he wasn’t holding it against you for needing to push back the date again. His eyes softened when he clearly heard how distressed you were through his cell and he sighed, murmuring into the receiver that it didn’t matter how long it took or how many obstacles the two of you would have to get through.
His heart still longed for you just as strongly as the first day he saw you.
With his quiet yet passionate reassurance, you were able to attend to all that you needed to, keeping in contact with him throughout the week. You were ashamed to admit it, but with how easy he was to talk to, you found yourself falling hard.
Then, the day finally came where life allowed you this one happiness.
According to you, the first date went well. Sure, Shinsou was a bit shy and awkward, fumbling over his words but you found it extremely cute.
He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as his figure portrayed. Underneath all that brawn, the black panther was sweet and he was kind.
It took some time for him to actually warm up to you, but you were there waiting for him patiently. You never pushed him, never asked him to reveal secrets he didn’t want to talk about or divulge information about his personal life unless he himself wished to talk about it.
But when he finally did open up, close to a year later after that initial meeting at Midoriya’s birthday party, he found that he couldn’t stop running his mouth when you trained your keen gaze on him so intently, hanging onto his every word.
Shinsou told you everything.
He told you about his lonely past, about the man called Eraserhead but how he knew him as Aizawa, how he preferred coffee over tea because while neither of them actually had any taste, one of them did a much better job of keeping him awake at night when he had to work.
You giggled and told him you took note of that, leaning forward to plop your chin in the palm of your hand as you regarded him mischievously.
“Does that mean the great and famous Toshi doesn’t like water?” You teased lightly, stirring your hot chocolate while the snowflakes fell outside, melting the instant they hit the window.
The pillowy softness looked deceptively soft and cozy but you knew after many experiences of jumping into piles of snow that that was definitely not the case.
Shinsou scowled at the lilt in your voice but the edges of his mouth twitched, desperately trying to hold back a fond smile at the sound of your nickname for him.
You gave him that nickname after you learned his given name. He had shared it with you months after you two started dating regularly. You had pestered him for it for a while after the first coffee date but after he asked you to stop, that he would tell you when he was ready, you stopped immediately.
Boundaries had to be respected.
One of your old girlfriends made fun of you for it, claiming that it didn’t make sense so you shouldn’t feel the need to respect it.
You dropped her right after.
Understanding didn’t matter. If it was close to him, then it mattered to you. And that went for everyone.
Shinsou tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned back in the booth, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. The only other person he let call him Toshi was Aizawa and that was on the rare occasion that his mentor praised him for a job well done.
“You have some nerve, doll.” Shinsou teased right back, the barest amount of amusement twinkling in his eyes and he cleared his throat. “But no, I actually do like water.”
In spite of the common misconception that all cats hated water, he got that a lot once people saw his ears and tail, fangs poking out between his lips. But if anything, he had no issues with it. Let them say and think whatever they wanted, it didn’t matter to him.
You however… he couldn’t have you thinking things that weren’t true.
Shinsou made a face. “I just am not fond of baths.”
You slapped your knee and cackled at that, laughing so loud that you drew the attention of some of the other patrons in the vicinity but you couldn’t even catch your breath long enough to apologize for ruining their calm coffee cafe experience.
The two of you dated for quite a long time before Shinsou popped the question.
For you, it had taken you by a complete and utter surprise. You had expected him to ask you to move in with him first or something since his place was big enough, not this. No one had ever committed to a relationship with you long enough and serious enough to make you think that marriage was part of the equation.
But while you were startled, you still agreed, tears caught in your lashes. You may have been shocked but you were so elated.
Shinsou, keen as ever, wiped away your tears and coaxed your face up, finger hooked underneath your chin as he examined you closely.
Indigo hues softened in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” You reassured him with a sniffle and bright smile. “I just— Sometimes I forget how good of a person you really are, Toshi.”
He was taken aback at that. His whole life he had been told the opposite. And yet here he was, with the love of his life telling him otherwise.
His heart was going to explode.
It hadn’t been the first time you said it but he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last.
And when the news that you two were now engaged finally hit you, you took some time to soak in the scenery.
The place he picked was absolutely perfect.
An alcove secluded and filled with fragrant flowers, vines trailing up the expanse of the old stone ruins. Soothing streams cut paths through the quiet garden, a serene and tranquil place hidden amongst the bustling town of Musutafu. There was no one else around. Just you two.
It was perfect. It was perfectly Toshi.
“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning your head and resting it on his shoulder.
He booped your nose softly, smiling slightly when you scrunched it up cutely and his tail curled around your waist protectively, holding you close.
“I love you.” Shinsou murmured, closing his eyes as he breathed you in.
There was no hesitation in your soft reply. “I love you too.”
But your relationship with Shinsou wasn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a time where you thought you might lose him.
That he might die.
It was bad. Kaminari had called you right after it happened but because you had been working at the time and your dick of a boss didn’t let you have your phone, you didn’t see any of those messages until after you got off your shift.
But when you finally did look at it, your heart stopped.
What happened next was a blur. Your phone slipped through your fingers, uncaring how the screen cracked and went black the instant it hit the pavement and you tore off in the address now ingrained in your memory despite only looking at it once.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, You chanted in your head, tears streaming down your face and the city lights faded into the background as you zipped down the familiar path to the hospital you swore you would never step foot in again. Toshi, I can’t lose you too.
The front desk receptionist didn’t even stop you as you barreled through the front doors with panicked eyes, chest heaving. She simply waved you on. You knew where to go.
When you finally got to his room, your heart stopped.
Kaminari wasn’t kidding. It was bad.
No one else was in the white room with white walls that contained your beloved lying deathly still on the single cot in the center of the room.
The hospital room was vacant. Empty. No color.
You hated it.
But you suppressed those feelings of unease that made you sick to your stomach and stepped a foot inside, racing to Shinsou before you could talk yourself out of it.
“I’m here.” You cried out, reaching for his hand. A choked sob left you when his fingers weakly curled around yours. “I’m here, Hitoshi.”
The doctors came and went but you stayed by his side, not even batting an eye when Kaminari, Jirou and Sero came to visit.
There were heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep due to the past few days. “When will he wake up?”
Kaminari hesitated, glancing at Jirou, hoping to find her usual reassurance but a foreign worry wrought her features.
“I… don’t know.” He said finally, placing a hand on your shoulder, sighing when you didn’t even look up at him and smiled like you normally did. “He’s under a pretty heavy anesthesia—”
“He’s going to wake up.” You stated firmly, brow kitting stubbornly and you squeezed his hand tighter.
But when it was clear he wasn’t going to squeeze back, your grip loosened and your hands fell back in your lap.
“He’s going to wake up.” You repeated, voice shaking this time around with insecurity as you faced the possible reality that he might not.
That you had just grown close to someone else who was going to leave you.
According to the report that Jirou had tried to tell you about, Shinsou had gotten attacked by someone he had helped the police put away a long time ago.
A retaliation hit.
Stabbed in the shoulder with a gunshot wound through his femoral artery, there wasn’t a lot of hope for him. He lost a lot of blood.
But you were certain he would fight. He could make it through this. He promised you that he would never leave you.
Resolve strengthening, you wiped away your tears harshly with the back of your hand before covering his motionless hand with yours once more. As long as you were here, you would provide him all the support he needed to get through this.
“Toshi…” You sobbed as the other three took their leave after failing to convince you to go home and get some rest. They would get some food and bring it up to you, sure you hadn’t eaten in days. You didn’t want to be the one to tell them that they were right.
Shinsou never liked it when you skipped meals. What would he say if he saw you now?
You pressed a wet kiss to the back of his hand, tears blurring your vision.
“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You promised, eyelashes fluttering close as you failed against the anguish.
“Please, don’t leave me alone.”
Days turned into weeks and your hope was dwindling with each passing hour.
You had lost your job at the diner that you worked at because you refused to leave his side. You were lucky to have Kaminari reassure you that money wouldn’t be a problem and you were eternally grateful that he knew just how important it was that you didn’t leave Shinsou’s bedside.
Jirou and Sero rotated shifts to keep watch over their friend, coordinating with Tsukauchi, All Might and Eraserhead to provide top security but you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to their activities.
All you did, from sunrise to midnight was stare at Shinsou’s peacefully sleeping face in hopes that he would blink open those tired eyes and gaze at you once more.
Please, You begged for what seemed like the millionth time to someone, anyone who was listening. Please help him.
Let him be okay.
When a month and a half had passed, you were at your wit’s end. There had been no change since day one. The doctors said that all his injuries had healed, thanks to Recovery Girl, but that it was likely he would never come out of the coma.
You had no more tears to cry. Your figure was gaunt, facial features sunken in like you had seen a ghost and lost your mind. No one could convince you to eat or sleep.
If Shinsou died, there was a good chance you would too.
Life was empty without him in it.
You couldn’t take this anymore. The waiting, the not knowing. You hated it.
You begged him even though you knew he couldn’t hear you, angry at him, angry at the guy who put him here, angry at the world for being so unfair that you lost it. Yelling at him, you fought back frustrated tears as you poured your heart out to him.
But then you stopped. He didn’t know.
Sinking back into the uncomfortable plastic chair that your body had molded to, you closed your eyes in defeat.
That’s right. You never told him.
Eyes growing sad and regretful, you debated for a second before you decided that if you were feeling this way, you might as well tell him why.
Holding his hand that teetered on the edge of chilly due to the slowed down circulation, you took a deep breath.
“You always wanted to know, ever since we first met.” You started softly, playing idly with his fingers to distract yourself from the horror of this story. “I knew you saw right through me then, should’ve taken the warning and run.”
You smiled faintly. He never would’ve let you.
“I…” You trailed off, losing your courage. Breathing shakily, you tried to gather yourself. You knew this wasn’t going to be an easy feat but somehow, this was the hardest part of it all.
Where you had to admit what you felt with no hidden truths.
Clearing your throat, you started over.
“I never told you about Ryuu.” You confessed, blinking up at the stained tiles of the ceiling in an attempt to hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes. “He was my little brother, passed away when I was 15.”
You exhaled shakily. “He was only six.”
Your dad had gotten mugged and was beaten to death on the outskirts of the city before you were born. Your mom raised you as best as a single mother her age could but it was hard.
She had no job, no family, no one to help her. Your childhood consisted of you bouncing around the streets to make a penny, then crashing in whatever crumbling, rundown building you could find for the night.
Any run-ins with the law weren’t good.
You knew that they would take you away from your mom if they knew, put you in the foster care system. You couldn’t let them do that, who would take care of her?
She didn’t tell you that she was pregnant. You found out when she started showing.
You didn’t say anything about it for the nine months she carried that baby, supporting her with all you could. Life was okay. You got a job running errands for the kind man who owned a grocery store at the corner of the street.
You had enough money to put some food on the table.
When she birthed the baby, you were there the entire time. You were there when he had his first cry, when the nurse cut the umbilical cord, and when your mother passed away on the hospital bed, too weak from labor to carry on.
You didn’t mourn. No matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted to, no tears came out.
Instead, you held Ryuu in your arms, kissing him on his little forehead as you vowed to protect him.
He was life. He was precious.
But you couldn’t protect him from himself.
Ryuu was born with a flawed heart. The doctors predicted that he wouldn’t live more than a year.
But your little brother pushed through. By the time he turned four, he was already showing signs of great progress and healing. You were hopeful that he could grow up like a normal kid and experience life to the fullest.
You hoped for too much.
Visits to the hospital became more frequent when he started coughing up blood. Violent seizures overtook him and one day, it claimed his life.
And you didn’t cry.
Onlookers speculated that you had no heart if you couldn’t even grieve for this poor boy, but no, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.
You thought you were over this already, that you had gotten over your fear of hospitals and all the despair that came with it, but no.
Seeing Shinsou laying there, deathly pale, had your heart beating right out of your chest, and not in a good way.
“When you wake up, I’m going to kill you.” You swore through the hot tears stinging your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.
Slouching heavily back down in that same uncomfortable plastic chair that dug into your back and made your butt incredibly sore, you clasped Shinsou’s hand tightly.
“You’re such an idiot.” You sobbed, fingers shaking as you let up the pressure, grazing over the back of his hand as though you were afraid he might disappear on you if you pressed too hard.
Vision blurry, a sob welled up in your chest and your body trembled uncontrollably as you let it all out. The build up of all the emotions you had been suppressing since you were younger released onto him and you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore.
But your eyes flew open as something soft and fuzzy ruffled your hair.
Shooting upright, fresh tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and your hands clapped over your mouth in shock.
A broken cry escaped you. “Toshi…”
Shinsou’s indigo eyes opened just a crack but they were trained on you and the faintest of smiles graced his lips.
“Hey, doll.” He breathed tiredly.
His mouth barely moved but you heard him.
With an astonished and disbelieving cry of relief, you flung your arms around his neck.
Despite his body just waking up and getting accustomed to its surroundings, he didn’t hesitate to catch you, tucking your head under his chin and he buried his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply. Damn, he missed you.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Shinsou apologized, wincing a bit as he tried to prop himself up. You were quick to realize what he wanted and helped him, fluffing the pillows behind him as best as you could even though it was hard to reach around his much bigger frame. “How long—”
“Too long.”
Shinsou’s eyes softened and he gently brushed away the teardrops escaping with the pad of his thumb as he cupped your face tenderly.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, eyes closing briefly as he rested his forehead against yours.
You glowered at him even though your heart was already surging towards him with open arms. “You better be.”
The sound of his throaty chuckle was a welcome one and you melted into his embrace, sighing at the deep purr that rumbled from his chest.
“Princess…” Shinsou murmured, Kaminari’s outburst and Jirou’s relieved expression as they burst into the room going unnoticed as he focused only on you. “Forgive me?”
Vaguely, you registered Sero bolting out the door to fetch the doctor but you blinked up at him and pouted, playing with the collar of his hospital robe.
“It wasn’t your fault.” You mumbled under your breath.
Shinsou’s eyebrows drew together. “I heard about your brother, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“You don’t need to ask for forgiveness.” You whispered, grip tightening on him when the doctor entered the room and asked you to leave so he could examine him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
Shinsou begged for just one more minute with you, one more minute to hold you in his arms but the doctor was insistent. Reluctantly, with great difficulty, he let you go, the man taking your place in a second.
You swallowed harshly as you stepped away from him, Jirou patting your shoulder comfortingly and you turned to her as Kaminari peppered the exhausted panther with endless questions.
“Toshi?”
Shinsou turned his head at your soft voice and motioned for you to complete your thought. He knew that look on your face.
You broke away from Jirou, leaving her with Sero as you approached him once more. Slowly, with intent, you strode towards him, watery eyes diminishing as your resolve strengthened.
Taking his hand in yours, something flashed through your eyes. “I’m gonna make them pay.”
In spite of his vision growing foggy as the anesthetic kicked in, a small smirk played upon the edge of his mouth and his gaze flickered over your shoulder to lock purposefully with Kaminari’s. A silent request to keep you safe while he was out.
Shinsou sighed, settling into the thin mattress as comfortably as he could when you pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.
He smiled, eyes fluttering shut as the last thing he heard was your hushed declaration of how much you loved him.
“Go get ‘em, doll.”
Seven quirk-cancelling handcuffs, demolished turkey stuffing and a plate of thrown pudding later, you left the individuals responsible for attacking your Toshi in the police’s capable hands.
It had taken you forever to heal from the trauma of that day that landed your life partner in the hospital in such a dangerous predicament, but taking one slow step at a time, you managed to get back up on your feet and move forward.
Now, years later, the shining daylight turned into the ambiance of night, and that was when the real party started.
Purple lowlights glowed softly in contrast against the glittery sparkles of the disco ball hanging above the dancefloor.
Jirou spun tunes at the DJ booth, Sero jamming with Kirishima unabashedly to the loud EDM in the crowd, Bakugou violently fighting against his best friend when Kirishima begged for him to come join.
You poured drinks from behind the counter with an impassive Todoroki, bopping to the music that pumped through the air and reverberated through your bones. Your coworker continued to serve customers, strolling out into the dining area as someone waved him over. Uraraka and Aoyama, you think.
Kaminari had given you a position at his nightclub, asking if you wanted to put your bartending skills to good use since his last guy quit once he got a better gig. You accepted immediately.
You bustled around the back of the counter of the bar, glass shelves stocked with liquor high behind you. Polishing glasses, you handled several things at once as customers put in orders and talked to you all at once.
Tonight was a celebration and a bunch of your friends were here.
Bakugou was now begrudgingly dancing with Kirishima on the dancefloor, the permanent scowl on his face growing once Todoroki leaned over and casually noted how much he resembled a put off skunk in that moment. Midoriya had to intervene and drag away a clueless Todoroki while Kirishima wrangled back a furious pomeranian.
Kaminari hung out with Yaoyorozu by Jirou, Shoji and Ojiro drifting over to them as soon as they stepped in through the front door.
Excitement thrummed through your veins at all the familiar faces. With all your friends in one place, you were eager to see the one person you had been looking forward to catching up with all week.
He should be getting off of work soon…
A ring from the doorbell as it opened caught your attention.
“I’ll be right with you!!” You called as the figure who had just shuffled through the door of the bar sat down at the counter.
“No worries.” The man responded smoothly despite his tired tone. “Take your time.”
At the sound of the familiar voice, you casted a glimpse at him, spotting ruffled purple hair and indigo hues brimming with love fixated on you.
He waved you off with a lazy grin and you fought back a smile as you continued to make the requested cocktail for the customer you were currently serving.
You had both agreed to not act with familiarity at your workplace but that didn’t stop you from putting an extra bounce in your step as you flitted around from behind the counter with grace and practiced ease to help ease Todoroki’s workload.
Shinsou’s gaze followed you as you swapped places with the dual-haired man.
He had just got off of patrol with his old mentor, Eraserhead. Kaminari had given him the day off and let him spend time with the scruffy man. And of course Aizawa wanted to spend it doing work.
Taking off his signature mask to let it hang around his neck, Shinsou set down his keys on the polished obsidian tabletop, tapping his fingers idly while he waited for you to come back, his eyes flickering to the employees’ door that led to the back.
But he had no complaints while waiting.
One of his favorite pastimes was watching you work. The grace while you floated around the crowd of people coupled with the delicate precision you used to handle each glass while you poured liquor in different combinations, he could watch you for hours on end and never be bored.
Wiping your hands on your white apron dirtied with stains from this shift, you dashed back behind the counter to send out a few plates full of food that a table had ordered.
Shinsou rested his chin in the palm of his hand nonchalantly, his tail swishing lazily from side to side as you took care of things seamlessly, picking up the influx of business that came with the busy hour.
He briefly wondered why there were only you and Todoroki waiting on tables, scowling slightly when he thought that you had to deal with waitressing on top of bartending but you didn’t seem to mind.
With an easy smile and light shining in your eyes, you dealt with all of it with grace.
“Hello!!”
Shinsou glanced up, one of his rare smiles threatening to break out across his face at the sight that greeted him. You were leaning over the counter towards him, spinning a pen between your fingers smoothly as you whipped out a notepad.
“What can I get for you?” You asked politely but the mischievous glint in your eye gave it away.
Shinsou had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you come over. Easily enough, a smug smirk curved at the edge of his mouth and he recovered rather quickly as he chuckled.
“Just water is fine, thanks.” He said and you nodded, flashing him a quirky smile.
You got him his water within seconds and in the blink of an eye, you were back to serving others. Caught up in the craziness of the rush hour, you barely noticed a little someone toddling up to stand up behind you as the door burst open.
“Mama?”
The babysitter you hired for the night came rushing in behind him, hauling your son back frantically, wrought with worry from when he sped ahead of her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, L/N-san, I just—”
You held up a hand to stop her, calming her down. “It’s okay, Gen. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
In a single hurried breath, she relayed in a panicked manner that she had a family emergency to take care of. You reassured her that it was okay to go, ushering her out the door when she continued to spew out apologies for bailing like this.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and you were quite sure it wouldn’t be the last. The girl was nice and she got along great with your son but her parents struggled with their health and usually one of them or both of them landed in the hospital every week.
The stress.
You shook your head. It was unfair to put such a young girl through something so strenuous but you didn’t have any say in it and you inserting yourself into their lives would be intrusive so you settled for supporting her whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“Need a ride?” You asked, eyes sympathetic as you headed over to her, snatching your coat from the hook, already ready to help in any way that you could.
Gen waved her hands quickly, the smile that appeared gone as fast as it came. “That’s okay, but thank you, L/N-san!! Monoma is taking me to the hospital.”
Her knuckles turned white at how tightly she gripped the strap of her bag and your eyes softened understandingly as her boyfriend’s sports car pulled up just outside.
“Go on.” You urged softly. “And be careful.”
“I will.”
And with that, she turned around, leaving behind a fidgeting little boy tugging on the bottom of your apron.
“Mama? Where’s she going?” Naoki pouted, cheeks puffing out. “I thought we were gonna play…”
You hid a smile, reaching behind you to pat him on the head as you expertly handled a tray of empty beers and put the glasses in the sink. As Todoroki took over for you, you bent down to ruffle his hair.
“What is it, little one?” You questioned softly and somehow your son managed to hear you above the noise and clamor of the partying going on.
Normally, you would’ve done everything you could to keep him away from your workplace. Having your husband watch him in the back room was preferable until your shift was over. Naoki particularly enjoyed coloring.
The last babysitter you hired before Gen ended up being careless and lost track of him, letting the small boy wander out of the house. He found you at your workplace easily enough since it was a few blocks away but you were in hysterics when he trotted in through the door with his favorite Eraserhead plushie as one of your regulars held open the door for him.
Grandpa Shouta would never admit how much he loved the little guy but it didn’t matter. He and Hizashi constantly showered Naoki with gifts every weekend when they came over to take your family out on a shopping spree and obligatory trip to the cat café.
You didn’t have any relatives that lived close by or else you would’ve asked if they could babysit Naoki and Aizawa was out of the question since his job was just as dangerous and demanding as Shinsou’s.
Your workplace wasn’t exactly the traditional nightclub, it was actually a very sophisticated bar with tight security and respectful customers. Rarely you got anyone new but the steady stream of regulars was more than enough to keep the place up and running.
Nobody usually got violent when they had too much to drink but if they did, the bouncers Kendo and Tetsutetsu were both quick to throw them out of the establishment until they sobered up.
Naoki liked to cling to your legs when you were at home and since all your regulars knew of him from that little incident before, no one was surprised when the small boy tucked himself behind you shyly.
The disco music’s volume lowered a tad as Jirou realized that Naoki was with you, reducing it to a much more acceptable level for conversations to flow easier.
Shinsou sipped his water. Gen was in and out as quickly as she came, and there was no need for him to do anything when you took care of it so fast. Besides, his son hadn’t even noticed him yet.
Until now.
Beaming widely, Naoki faced his dad and hugged your leg.
Shinsou fought back a fond smile, waving at him discreetly to avoid catching the attention of the others. He rolled his eyes though when his silent and goofy conversation was interrupted by a Kaminari and Sero obnoxiously hooting from the side.
You remained oblivious, cleaning up a pile of dishes to clear your workspace as Todoroki disappeared into the kitchen where Sato and Tokoyami were continuing to crank out plates of food for the night.
Tugging on your apron, Naoki’s wide eyes met yours as you knelt down to his level. He pointed to someone sitting on the opposite side as his dad.
“Mama, that man looks mean…” He whispered fearfully, cowering behind your legs as you straightened up to your full height.
“Can I help you?” You asked with a pointed glance, tone hard as you addressed the one intimidating your son.
While any other person would’ve bristled at your icy tone, this burly man just snickered and leaned closer, making his intent clear.
Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest and pulled out your notepad. You hadn’t seen him around before, he must be a newcomer.
You sighed after a beat of him just ogling you, tapping your pen to the edge of the mini spiral impatiently as you suppressed the urge to vomit at his behavior. “If you’re not going to order anything, please sit at one of the tables instead so that another customer can take your place at the bar.”
Naoki whimpered and scuttled to hide more as the man stood up. He towered over you and the little boy’s heart started to beat faster with fear.
“Oh, is that right, princess?”
You bristled at the nickname and bit the inside of your cheek to stop some very colorful words from escaping, throwing a hard side glance at your husband when he abruptly stood up with a snarl painted on his face.
Moving to stand in front of him, blocking the man’s view from Shinsou and also stopping your husband at the same time should he do anything reckless, you plastered your best customer service smile on your face.
“Please do not call me that.” You stated, making it clear that you weren’t actually asking. “If you cannot treat me with respect then you should leave.”
“Oh?” The man chuckled, the sound grating against your ears unpleasantly. “And what are you gonna do about it, sweet thing?”
Oh, that was it.
“I’m taken.” You responded dryly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I really don’t appreciate how you’re talking to me, and my husband wouldn’t either.”
He smiled a sinister smile, causing your skin to crawl. “I don’t see him.”
And Shinsou was done letting you take this disrespect.
“Hey.” He barked, standing up to take his place next to you. “If a lady tells you to back off, you listen.”
A snort came from the other and then condescending laughter followed. “Yeah right. All girls are ever good for is being a pretty little thing to show off on your arm, am I right?”
“You’re dead wrong, prick.” Shinsou hissed, indigo alight with unparalleled fury as he came up behind you, wrapping beefy arms around your waist and glaring at the guy who had the audacity to harass you like that. “You don’t talk to anybody like this, especially not my wife.”
The man should’ve taken the obvious warning and backed down but he didn’t. Instead, his interest transformed into judgement and you could visibly see the walls coming down and locking as his hatred overtook his entire being.
“Hybrid, huh?” He sneered in disgust at you. “No wonder you went after someone like her.”
Shinsou’s arms curled around you tighter protectively and he stiffened behind you, coiled like a cobra and ready to strike but you held him back again.
But before you could throw him out of Kaminari’s establishment yourself, someone beat you to it.
In two seconds flat, the man who had been snickering at you and high-fiving his buddies folded over, clutching his stomach as his expression contorted in pain.
Naoki planted his hands on his hips and nodded his head proudly as he kicked the man where it hurt. “No one talks to my Mama like that!!”
“Naoki!!” You cried out.
He had slipped away so quietly and so fast that you didn’t notice in time to stop it.
Leaning over the counter, you spotted him blinking back at you innocently as Yaoyorozu hustled him away from the troublesome men he had just put in his place.
Bakugou appeared, a menacing aura surrounding his broad frame as he loomed over the sniveling man now cowering beneath him.
“You’re fuckin’ lucky she asked you nicely, cause the rest of us ain’t gonna, bastard.” He snapped, explosions popping from his palms.
Twisting his arm behind his back, the fuming man marched out the front door with the captured one in his iron grip squealing like a pig, followed by Kaminari and Sero taking the others with Kirishima cracking his knuckles while flashing a smile over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him. They were going to teach him a little lesson.
Naoki raised his hands high above his head joyfully, a wide smile spread across his face. “Mama, Mama, did you see?! Did I do good?!”
Immediately, you and Shinsou rushed over to Naoki, pulling him in for a hug.
“Are you okay?!” You exclaimed, scanning over him for any injuries, making sure he isn’t hurt. “Naoki, you can’t just run off like that!! Or kick people!!”
He pouted, lowering his hands slightly. “But Papa taught me how!!”
Shinsou collapsed into a fit of laughter when he heard that and your head snapped towards him.
Your eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, wry tone rolling off your tongue. “Did he now?”
Naoki nodded vigorously, his mop of purple hair flopping around on his head. “Yup!! He said that if someone’s mean, then they’re a bully and I can fight back!!”
At this point, you didn’t know whether you should applaud your son or scold your husband for teaching him such things.
Yaoyorozu shook her head as you deftly tickled Naoki’s sides, making him laugh loudly. He looked so very proud of himself, rambling on and on about how he protected you against the big bad scary man, just like his daddy showed him.
Shinsou, who was leaning back against the counter casually as he observed the two of you, pushed off as his son tunneled into his legs.
“Papa, Papa, are you proud of me?” He pleaded to know, staring up at him with wide eyes just like a koala as he hugged his father’s shins.
Shinsou patted his head, brushing the wispy curls away from his eyes and chuckled. “Of course I am, squirt.”
“Toshi!!” You scolded good-naturedly, pushing up onto your feet.
Despite the talk about how nonviolence is a better route you knew would have to come later, you simply picked up Naoki and rested him on your hip as Shinsou tapped your cheek and murmured into your ear that he was going to go check on things outside.
He tucked your hair behind your ear. “Will you be alright?”
You nodded reassuringly. “Of course. Go. But don’t beat him up too badly, love.”
Shinsou huffed out a curt laugh, the waggle of his eyebrows making you giggle, dissipating the tense atmosphere in an instant.
When he disappeared from the establishment, you took Naoki to the back room to get away from all the craziness and clamor that came with your son kicking the prick in the balls. Midoriya offered to help Todoroki with serving the food while you took care of your son.
“Here you go, little one.” You whispered as you gathered up the coloring books and crayons hidden away in the bigger desk, placing it on the smaller one Tokoyami built just for him.
Naoki clapped his hands excitedly, making grabby hands for it, a happy noise emitting from him as soon as gave it to him. “Thank you, Mama!!”
While he busied himself with coloring in a tiger with blues and yellows, you kept him company. That was, until the door clicked open.
You stood in a second, running over to him and flung your arms around his neck to hug him tight. Naoki remained engrossed in coloring in the Disney Princess on the page as you checked over the black panther.
“You okay?” You whispered shakily, a hint of fear slipping in as your collected façade cracked.
Shinsou rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly as he cupped your jaw. “Yes, I’m alright. Don’t worry, doll.”
The corners of your mouth twitched as you protested childishly, “... ‘m not worried.”
He exhales sharply, chuckling faintly at your characteristic stubbornness and hummed nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, princess.”
He lowered his voice, murmuring repeatedly that he was okay as your trembling fingers brushed over his bruised knuckles. They were a little busted up and bloody from a particularly hefty punch he delivered to the jerk’s jaw. He was going to feel that in the morning.
Shinsou kept you in his embrace for as long as Naoki took to finish coloring his picture. By the time he did, you had calmed down enough to go back out and finish your shift.
Wiping sweaty palms on your uniform, you sniffled and raised your head up high. You could do this. You had come a long way from the little girl who became paralyzed at the mere sight of a drop of blood.
He was a bit battered but he would heal. He was okay.
As you bustled about behind the counter, fighting back a smile as Kaminari sashayed up to you and asked for your favorite so that he could give it back to you, you laughed out loud when Shinsou smacked him upside the head for doing such a thing.
Naoki ran around, looking for more bullies to kick in the balls before Shoji caught onto what he was doing and diverted his attention to helping Jirou spin some tunes, with some earplugs in, of course, so that his hearing wasn’t damaged.
Shinsou’s cheeks colored as you stretched up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his temple.
“Thank you for defending my honor.” You whispered somewhat teasingly. “It’s nice to know that my boys have my back.”
His chest rumbled with laughter and an arm looped around your middle, drawing you close to his side as the night rush slowed down and you were finally given a chance to breathe. Tail wrapping around your hip, the cool metal of his ring kissed your skin as his fingers intertwined with yours.
Ignoring the banter of an indignant Naoki and a pouty Kaminari, Shinsou nudged his nose against your temple and sighed softly.
“Forever and always, doll.”
#shinsou#shinsou hitoshi#shinso#shino oneshot#bnha shinso#bnha shinsou#shinsou oneshot#shinsou x reader#shinsou x reader oneshot#shinso x reader#shinso x reader oneshot#hybrid!shinsou#dad!shinsou#protective!shinsou#shinso hitoshi#shinsou hitoshi x reader#shinsou hitoshi x reader oneshot#bnhacity#soft shinsou#dad shinsou#protective shinsou#protective shinsou oneshot#protective shinsou x reader oneshot#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#oneshot#fanfiction#bnha oneshot
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)
3.9k words - Rated M (language)
Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!
You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.
“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”
He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”
Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.
“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”
Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.
“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.
Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, dad,” you murmur.
His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.
You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.
You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.
The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.
A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”
“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.
You see him before he sees you.
He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.
“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.
He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.
“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.
“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.
The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.
The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.
Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.
“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.
“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”
“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”
He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”
“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”
“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”
You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”
“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”
“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”
You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”
The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.
Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.
Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”
“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.
God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?
But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.
He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.
He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.
He smiles back.
“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”
“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”
You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.
Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.
“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”
Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.
“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”
He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.
Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.
A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.
You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.
“Everything alright?” he asks gently.
“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”
“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.
“Okay.”
———
In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.
The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.
“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”
“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”
“Yeah.”
The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.
Are we going to meet up again?
The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.
“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.
You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.
You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.
You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.
The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.
Max.
And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.
You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.
He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”
He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.
The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.
———
When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.
Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.
You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.
Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.
Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.
The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.
“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”
Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?
What about Lando?
Fuck.
What about your dad?
Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.
As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.
A notification appears from your dad.
Call me when you’re awake.
-------
tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris x reader#lando norris blurb#lando norris smut#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 writing#lando norris writing#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#f1 oneshot#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#formula 1#formula 1 blurb#formula one#formula 1 writing#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 smut#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 oneshot
240 notes
·
View notes
Text
In need of Refueling, Chapter 13 - Orange Claw
Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”
His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.
Word Count: 1747
Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse
Notes: This chapter is just pure fluff :3
Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!
Read on AO3
———-
One thing that sucks about sitting around waiting to heal, beyond the pain and the helplessness and the having to rely on one's enemy, was boredom. Red Son was bored. There wasn't much to do besides sleep, eat, and feel kinda terrible. So the main thing that Red Son did to pass the time was watch Sandy's cats. Yes, they were an annoyance at first, but he soon got used to the meowing in the background and was able to tune out most of it. So he spent his time watching them. Like Red Son, they didn't do much beyond eat and sleep. But occasionally some would scratch various posts around the room and play with various toys or each other. He had observed that there were approximately 27 cats in the houseboat. All different shapes, sizes, and colors. They were curious about him at first too, but quickly learned to stay away from him after his initial yelling, and some minor scolding from Sandy. Still, Red Son couldn't help, but occasionally inch a hand in their direction, which they would respond to with running away or even a short hiss. Red Son would then give a hiss of his own. After all they were right to not want to be around him. So he sighed and watched the day’s escapades of the sleeping cats twitch in their sleep, getting up and lazily scratching a post, maybe pouncing playfully on each other, before ultimately going back to sleep.
Then one day the Blue One brings in the 28th cat. It is a tiny multicolored cat, a calico, Red Son thinks they're called, so small with a weak mewl that Red Son guesses that it's a kitten. Sandy releases it to the crowd of other expectant cats. For a moment, it shrinks against Sandy’s legs as the other cats make some initial sniffs. Then it proceeds to let out a high pitched hiss before leaping out of the way, tearing through the crowd of cats, and flinging itself to the one unoccupied location devoid of cat. Which happens to be the space between the bed and the wall that Red Son had occupied a few days earlier.
Red Son glances down at it curiously, as it looks about the room with a wild-eyed expression.
“What’s with this one?” he asks Sandy.
Sandy sighs and says, “She’s a feral kitten that I’m fostering and trying to get her socialized, but she’s a bit older, so that tends to make things more difficult…”
A few other cats try to come closer, but the small cat swipes them away with a brightly colored paw. Red Son notes that much like the orange patch on her paw, the claws themselves are orange. She gives the rest of the room a fierce glare, attempting to appear large and intimidating, despite her small frame. Red Son allows a small smile to quirk on his lips. “She’s got a lot of spirit for something so small.”
“Haha, that can be part of the problem. But yes, spirit is good…”
The pause after Sandy speaks causes Red Son to take his gaze away from the small cat to see the blue man looking at him with an unreadable expression. Sandy quickly looks away and says, “Well, I better feed all the kitties, and then I can make some lunch for us! Tuna sandwiches sound good?” He leaves without an answer, and Red Son is left watching the cats again, however this time, he finds himself spending a lot of time looking at the small calico cat.
When Sandy goes to feed the cats, the new one seems to have a hard time getting food for herself. It requires her to go to one of the dishes near the other cats. When she does, she jumps at the other cats who get near her, swiping at them (or rather the air in front of them), and scurrying back to her little hidey spot between the bed and the wall.
As Sandy is busy in the kitchen after feeding the cats and presumably working on feeding himself and his resident demon, Red Son scoots towards the end of the bed and slides a water dish over to the cat. At least she might be able to get something to drink while the other cats are focused on the food. She inches forward and laps up some water. Red Son stares intently at her little pink tongue poke in and out.
He hears Sandy’s large footsteps and booming voice enter the room announcing lunch, causing the demon to scramble back into place, eliciting a few twinges of pang from his injuries which he does his best to stifle.
Sandy provides him with a tray with some neatly cut up sandwiches and a glass of mango iced tea and he leaves to let Red Son eat in silence. It looks so sickeningly picture perfect, and Red Son scrunches his face as he most definitely doesn’t enjoy the deliciously balanced tuna and fresh vegetables held between hearty and obviously homemade bread. He eats through one slice and washes some of it down with the fruity and delicately sweet iced tea. He bunches some blankets around himself to counteract the cold that the tea brings, but refuses to stop slurping up the refreshing goodness. As he does, he sneaks a peak over at the small cat by the bedside. She still hasn’t been able to have much to eat.
Red Son looks around, and carefully dissects some pieces of tuna from the other half of his sandwich, surreptitiously placing them on the floor near the small cat. She looks up at him and down at the tuna. Red Son’s gaze flickers back and forth attempting to act like he’s simply looking around as he takes a bite out of his sandwich, now a couple pieces of tuna less, but no less delicious. Another eye flicker over to the cat and he hums happily when he sees that she has started greedily gobbling up the fish.
When he finishes his meal, he puts the tray aside and leans back contentedly, but looks up when he feels a soft tug on his blanket. The movment comes from the small cat, attempting to and actually succeeding in climbing up to the bed. Red Son perks up, but attempts to remain nonchalant about her appearance on the bed. She shuffles over to him, taking a few stops to give him a momentary once over to make sure he doesn’t have any intent on hurting her.
She finally makes it over to Red Son and sniffs at him, slowly getting to his hands. She must be noticing the smell leftover from the tuna he ate. Red Son opens up his palms more to allow her better access to them. She takes a lick at his fingers. Red Son can’t help but smile slightly. He wiggles his fingers a little, and she lightly sinks her teeth into them. Red Son cringes but wiggles his fingers more as she gnaws gently at them. Then he ruffles the fur under her chin and she jumps back slightly, while batting playfully at his hand. A small giggle bubbles its way out of Red Son’s mouth. It is quickly stifled when Sandy again comes into the room. The added presence likewise causes the kitten to jump and run away, back to her corner. Red Son stiffens and gives Sandy the tray, not able to look at him and answering his question of “Did you like your meal” with a very robotic “Yes”. If it’s odd, Sandy doesn’t take notice and walks away.
It’s not long before the kitten is found in Red Son’s presence again, stealing some of his food during his meals (through no complaint of his own), and pawing playfully at his hands or the edges of his robe. Occasionally, she’s even found sleeping on the bed next to him, her soft purring providing some unexpected comfort to him. Red Son had never had a pet before, but he could now see why one would enjoy the company of a small furry companion like this. He hums happily as he strokes his fingers through her soft fur.
After a couple days of this, Sandy finally comments on the interaction.
“I see you’re getting along well with our new resident!” Sandy says happily.
“I whwhub-- what?! I, NO, I don’t know what you mean!”
“She seems to like you!”
“Yes, because all animals who like you bite you!” Red Son scrunches up his face in annoyance, before it softens as he watches the small cat gnawing, without much real force, on his fingers and kneading the fabric of his robe with her brightly colored claws.
“Well, she doesn’t really let many others get that close without hissing.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with that, she just likes her distance, that’s all.”
“Yes, it’s good to know your boundaries…” Sandy nods sagely. “And sometimes it’s hard for them to get used to a new environment, especially when they’re lost or alone or hurt. It’s happened to a lot of them… I don’t blame them for acting out given the circumstances…”
Red Son looks down at the small cat beside him as he tries to ignore the implications to Sandy’s words. The cat’s gnawing turning into licks and her eyes beginning to blink tiredly. He maneuvers his hand to give some scratches behind the ears, which earns him some rumbling purrs from the little kitten. A warm flutter fills his heart at this.
“It must be hard,” Red Son finally says.
“I just hope that they’re able to warm up eventually, and live happy, healthy lives.” Red Son can hear the smile in his voice without having to look at him, but all he does is provide a small hum in response. The cat has now closed her eyes fully and is curled up in the small pocket between his arm and his side.
“Would you like to name her?” Sandy asks suddenly.
“What?!” Red Son has to remind himself to be still despite his surprise so as to not disturb the cat.
“She doesn’t have a name yet. Would you like to name her?”
Red Son blinks up at the man, then down at the cat. She twitches a bit in her sleep, claws expanding and retracting slightly. He thinks for a moment.
“Orange Claw,” he says simply. It just sounds right.
start || <– previous // next –>
#lmk#lego monkie kid#monkie kid#in need of refueling#red son#sandy#recovery#fluff#cats#orange claw#lmk fanfiction#fanfiction#my writing#jadethest0ne
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm about to rant dear Tumblr follower or mutual so if you don't like that well keep on scrolling
I love Ever After High, it's whole theme of legacy and destiny with interesting characters and storyline it was great and I always wanted an Ever After High Doll but I never got one because and I quote "I am a bit to old to still be playing with dolls" but then Disney came along and ruined everything and they made Descendants which to be honest I like in theory but they failed the execution, it's an interesting concept but there are several things I don't like and they failed to do where I feel Ever After High accomplished better for example the designs yes Ever After High may look abit similar because they are a doll franchise but you still can distinguish each and every character be it the main character or a background one while Descendants has the anime problem
" I wonder which ones the main character? Is it that brunette, no it's that one with bright purple hair!"
And the designs are uninspiring these are the children of Disney Heroes and Villains and this is the best you could do. Audrey becomes a villain in the third movie and as we see her color palette is baby pink and pastel blue I think a villain with those colors could be different and unique villain design but they ruined they gave her pink, black and purple which are already common villain colors.
Apparently you just need to dye your hair an unnatural color wear some leather and your part of the Isle of the Lost and that is if you're a major character if not you are just dressed in rags and dirty. I honestly can't remember if the background characters from Descendants have names they are that forgettable well to me but Compare it with Ever After High background characters they may not be relevant to the story but I remember them Tiny the Giant, Humphrey Dumpty, Hopper the third I think, Melody Piper and I didn't Google none of them that's memorable they are!
Also why is Mal the only one who has magical powers?! Like the Evil queen makes potions in her original movie shouldn't Evie be able to brew potions or Jafar was a sorcerer shouldn't Jay should also have magical powers what about the children of heroes Jane is the daughter of the Fairy Godmother shouldn't she have magical powers or Ben son of Belle and Beast shouldn't he have like some remnants of the beast curse sort of like a werewolf and he doesn't know if he truly belongs in Auradon cause of how much they villainized the Villains and their children so he does his best to hide that form and how his perfect kid image is all a facade and how he truly feels the best and free in his beast form and the VK find out and instead of rejecting him they accept him and help him keep his secret and forming a genuine friendship with them, I just gave you a more interesting story arc that I just invented at this moment with meaningful and topical themes than what Disney did with this characters in 3 movies.
Or why doesn't Audrey have remnants of the sleeping curse or is that too on the nose Disney of the franchise you plagiarized of this from, speaking of Ever After High no matter if royal or rebel, good or bad everybody had a magical gift, Cedar couldn't lie, Kitty could teleport, Duchess could dance on water, Raven and Faybelle had magical powers, Briar had remnants of the sleeping curse.
Also why in Descendants are all the Villains bad parents like only the good villain parent I remember is Dr Facilier I think but yeah apparently in the Descendants universe only heroes are good parents and villains are bad parents like there is no Dr Doofenshmirtz who is a villain but is a pretty good father and not trying to enforce their beliefs and evil agenda to their kids.
But in Ever After High there are good villain parents like the Queen of Hearts and sort of bad hero parents like Snow White.
You wanna know the worst thing that happened after Disney ruined the franchise? Is that we where robbed of the Monster High and Ever After High crossover as fan of the both series and watching all the movies where they referenced and hinted to the crossover just for it to never happened! And yes I am aware that they crossovered in the books but I wanted my TV special ok.
And that's all I have for today I hope you enjoyed reading this rant and I will see you real soon!
117 notes
·
View notes
Note
Xiao X Mc/reader who is afraid of thunders/lightings. also fluff
Hello~ here's a small note: I wrote Xiao as a mix of his eng voice lines and Chinese voice lines, since they make him sound completely different.
Aka his eng makes him sound like he is edgy, aggressive and tsundere as hell, but his original voice lines and voice acting, The chinese, make him sound like a lonely, calm person.
here we go then:
-You and Xiao had quite the weird relationship, for all that matters you didn't think he thought of you as a friend, but you weren’t strangers either. sometimes, more often than not, when you went to the upper balcony he wouldn’t vanish in thin air.
- That had to mean something right? RIGHT?
- those were the thoughts passing through your mind as you stood in the upper balcony at night, looking at no particular point of liyue.
-you let out a heavy sigh and as you turned around to return to your room- you found yourself in front of Xiao.
- You took the scare of your life. though this happens almost every time he would just appear near you when you thought to be alone.
-HOW COME SOMEONE COULD BE SO SILENT !?
- Xiao just made his way over to the balcony and stood there looking over at liyue. Now that you calmed down a bit and started looking at the Yaksha, you noticed his hair was a bit messier than usual if that is even possible, and that there was some blood in his clothes.
-You wanted to ask what happened, but it was probably a bit too obvious, so you just returned to your place at the balcony, this time, with Xiao beside you.
- “You were returning to your room” Xiao said after a while of silence.
- “ Well, I decided to stay a while longer, I haven’t seen you in almost a week, and I'm sure if I go to sleep now I won’t see you again for a couple days” you stated with a hand making vague gestures in the air. You heard a small “humph” from him and both of you went silent again.
-Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent recently, and even when neither the two of you would say something, you thought it was quite enjoyable….out of curiosity you took a glance at him, and holy archon, the man was beautiful. ahhh..those fierce eyes looked so calming to you…and you could swear there was a very small hint of a smile on his face, though it was most definitely your imagination working up, you wouldn’t mind staying like that for a couple hours….
-And of course
-As if to ruin the moment.
-It began raining ….
-It was just a bit of rain and it didn’t bother you, and Xiao clearly didn’t care about it. So you just began playing with the drops who fell in the balcony support. And then you heard it. A ferocious thunder in the distance. You gave a little jump and froze on the spot.
-You probably just heard it wrong right? hah, why now? you weren’t eve- “I have seen many mortals who fear lightning… Incomprehensible, fear of something so com-” Xiao had not the time to finish his phrase before he felt something, or rather, someone, grabbing his sleeve and letting go not one second after.
- He was a bit startled since you had never dared to do this sort of thing. However when he looked at you to say something about it, your face was more white than the almond tofu he had this morning, and the words he wanted to say instantly died on his throat.
“Xia-”*thunder* you wanted to apologize, but you were yet again interrupted by that ominous sound and froze on spot, Your knuckles already white from the force you were exercising on the balcony support.” I …I think I’ll go back inside now haha…” you faked a small laugh and hurried inside without paying further attention to Xiao.
-Xiao just stood there looking in the direction you left to with his usual stoic face, but I assure you he was just ????????????????????? as possible on the inside.
………
-It has been a while since you wrapped yourself in blankets and covered your ears to minimize the sound of the thunders, your eyes were shut and you sometimes mumbled some words to yourself. And so, when Xiao approached your door and knocked you didn’t hear him.
-Well Xiao didn't know why he hadn’t left yet, but he also wasn’t going to come into your room without your permission, so he just stood there. He was going to knock again when he heard you give a shriek.
And at that moment one hundred thoughts crossed Xiao’s mind, and 99 of them included you being in danger, So in a split second Xiao’s spear was in his hand and your door was no more.” Y/N!?” Xiao called while rapidly scanning the room with his eyes.
You did hear a loud bang, but with your hands covering your ears, every sound sounded muffed, so you thought it to be another thunder. With your eyes still closed all you could do was pull your legs even closer to your chest. Now seeing you physically unharmed was like a pain killer to Xiao, his racing mind finally calmed down and he let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t sense any sort of demon in the room so that was obviously not the case. The only thing left was finding out what was happening to you, yes he thought you were a bit weird, but this was not like you. And honestly speaking Xiao preferred to fight some demon, not because he didn’t want to interact with you, but rather because he was aware of how bad he was when dealing with human emotions.
With his spear no longer in sight he approached your bed, “y/n” he called in a plain voice, however, since you showed no signs of opening your eyes anytime soon, he reached your shoulder and lightly touched it “y/n.”- As soon as you felt someone touching you your first reaction was to reach for your sword that was beside the bed, Xiao had expected this much to happen, but he didn’t move a single muscle, and of course as soon as you saw it was Xiao, you just dropped the sword without a second thought and quickly began apologizing” Xiao I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to- I didn't hear you coming in….” you turned your face to the other side since you could feel your eyes wet and didn’t want Xiao to see you like this.
Xiao on the other side noticed you were avoiding his eyes right away because somehow you had developed the annoying tendency to always look in his eyes whenever you were speaking with him, well, he says annoying, but if you’d stop doing it out of the blue, he would feel weird and a bit bothered since he had grown comfortable with you doing it.
Xiao narrowed his eyes a bit, he wanted to know what could have possibly caused this sort of behavior from you and moved so he could see your face. You had stopped covering your ears ever since Xiao had touched your shoulder, so when he yet again attempted to call your name and a thunder soared in the background, you gave another shriek and froze for a split second, seeing this, Xiao got more worried again. Could it perhaps be that you were afraid of him???? But you had never feared him once, despite his attempts to shoo you away at first. So why would you fear him now??? Yes, his clothes had “a bit” more blood than usual but that would hardly make you fear him, right???
“Aha… I’m sorry Xiao, I left so abruptly” you began explaining, interrupting his train of thoughts. You were still with your legs close to your chest, but now you were playing with your own hands, still not looking directly at Xiao. “As you can see I'm fine, so there is no need for you to be here, I don’t want to be-”
“I’m not leaving until this situation is explained. Now talk.” Xiao had crossed his arms again. Aha…he really doesn’t know how to sugarcoat his words even when he’s worried, does he? But in your eyes, this was a very cute trait he had.
“It’s really a trivial matter, I don’t want to bother you” you had a small forced smile while looking at your own hands.
Xiao crossed his arms “I thought I told you to speak my name whenever you were in trouble” Well, that was not entirely the truth, he told you to speak his name whenever death came to you, or monsters, or knives at your throat, so obviously fear of thunders was not on the list, but of course you wouldn’t say this out loud. ”I’m not leaving until you explain. Talk” His voice sounded a bit aggressive and intimidating, but there was more than a hint of worry in it, so you gave up. You looked at him with a bit of reluctancy and sat more properly in your bed. Then you gestured to a chair that was by your bedside. Xiao sat and waited for you to start explaining.
You took some time to start speaking, and Xiao could only prepare himself for what you were going to say, as the vigilant Yaksha, the conqueror of demons there would hardly be a problem he wouldn't be able to solve for you. And when you finally opened your mouth, he couldn’t help but focus his eyes on you. “I….” You began ”I’m afraid of thunders….” once again you shifted your gaze to somewhere else. Xiao had lived thousands of years, dealt with countless problems and witnessed millions of troubled mortals begging for adepti help but this was something he had never expected.
He didn't know what to say, obviously thunders were insignificant to him, much less something to be afraid of. But you were afraid of them, what possibly could he say?????? Xiao was now in an internal conflict, of course on the outside he still had that poker face of his, eyes a bit widened with surprise while still glaring at you. If it were in another situation you would have probably thought something along the lines of “how can a thousand years adepti have such a cute and Innocent face….” but this was not the time nor the place.
“I bet you didn't expect that…” you smiled sadly as you hugged your legs. Xiao wanted to help, he really did, but how??? He had never dealt with this. He had started to think maybe you would be better without him there and should have left you alone, you had dealt with this situation a lot of times and you probably knew how to deal with it.
He really was about to get up when another thunder soared, a fierce one at that, and you unconsciously grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t leave…!”The words left your mouth before you could stop them. The ferocious Yaksha froze, you were looking at him, your eyes wetter than before and an expression of fear and despair on your face. This was happening way too many times recently, an adeptus like him shouldn’t be so easily surprised, and by a human no less. The thought of leaving left his mind immediately, and if he had slightly left the chair, Xiao sited again right away. He really couldn’t leave now.
Once you realized you had grabbed his sleeve again you slowly released it hoping he didn't realize you had grabbed onto it in the first place, was this becoming a habit????? it already happened twice!. On the other hand, Xiao obviously noticed, and that was one of the reasons a weird and warm sensation began growing in his chest.
“..Xiao I-”
As you were about to speak when Xiao cut you “Go sleep, I’ll be here”, he said with his eyes closed and a solemn expression. Well, Xiao had no experience dealing with this kind of situation nor he knew what to do, but if you said for him not to leave, he wouldn’t.
You were about to say he didn’t need to, and that he probably had other things to do, but three consecutive thunders were heard as if to say “shut up and thank him!!” So you just noded and covered yourself with blankets.
Now that Xiao was aware of the source of your unwellbeing, every time there was a thunder he would shoot a deadly look at the window with the corner of his eyes as if he could actually make them stop. After one final glance at your figure, he turned his head to the window, just calmly gazing at the rain, still, there was this protective aura you could feel from him.
Even looking at the window, Xiao could feel you flinch every time he heard a thunder, however after a while, you stopped, maybe you fell asleep. Even if that was the case he still stood there for a good half an hour. He probably wouldn’t admit it, but he was enjoying the ambiance.
When he looked at you as if to check everything was alright, it finally hit him “What am I still doing here?”. Without further thought, he stood up and was about to leave your bedside when he felt something slightly tugging onto him. When he looked over…. yes, you guessed it. You were peacefully grabbing the end of his sleeve.
You see, earlier when Xiao was looking at the window and you were trying to ignore the thunders and sleep, you sometimes stole a look at him, and in one of those times, you noticed part of his sleeve was on your bed, and reaaaally close to your hand at that. You looked at it for some seconds, and lightly touched it, then quickly looked at xiao, and since he didn't seem to notice, you slightly shifted your body closer to him and rested your hand on his sleeve. When you moved your head closer to your hand and his sleeve, you felt his scent filling you. You had never noticed since you never had got close enough to feel it, but he smelled like sandalwood and rain. After this, you stopped hearing the thunders and slowly fell asleep.
With anyone else, Xiao would have just pushed his sleeve and keep on his way, but it was y/n, a sleeping and fragile y/n. Xiao never thought of you as fragile, but recently he was always wary of his own strength when he was near you. And somehow, this situation had ignited that weird feeling on his chest again.
Xiao crouched down a bit and gently tried to pull his sleeve, he didn't want to risk waking you up, so as gently as a Yaksha could he grabbed your hand to move it to the side, and for some reason, even if adepti don’t feel hotness or cold, he was sure his face felt hotter than it should, how many years had it been since the last time he willingly had physical contact with someone? Back to the matter at hand, while Xiao was trying to put your hand away so he could remove his sleeve, somehow you had managed to grab his wrist instead, and when Xiao had finally freed his sleeve, it was now his arm that your hand was tugging into. He tried to move it out of there but you just pulled his wrist against you.
Now Xiao really needed to pull his arm out, he didn’t want to touch any part of your body without your consent. However when he slightly tried to move his arm out, you tugged him closer, fortunately, you pulled upwards, in the direction of your face. And even tho he let out a sigh of relief his face got more red than before once he felt your soft breath on the back of his fingers, his piercing eyes were wide as a scared cat, If you were to pull him an inch closer your lips would touch his fingers, so Xiao didn’t dare to move again.
————————
As the morning light began touching your eyelids, you slowly began waking up, shifting your body to the other side of the bed so the light wouldn’t hit your eyes, and stretching your body in a lazy way, after that you yawned and finally opened your eyes, still adjusting to the light you rubbed them a few times and slowly sat on your bed,” Good morning Xiao*Yawn*…!!!*cough cough* XIAO!?” only then did you notice there was a figure standing by your bedside, staring at you.”I- wh-what are you doing here??”
Xiao himself had only scaped from you some minutes ago, when you began waking up. He had just finished rubbing his still warm arm when you noticed him ”You are awake” he said in his usual tone. You slowly began getting up but before your foot touched the ground you began recalling what happened last night. “Oh dear Archon, how could have I said such things?? To Xiao nonetheless? ‘Don’t leave’??how come I said that!? Did Xiao really spend his night here??” You thought while trying to compose your messy clothes, failing a couple times before getting it right.
Amidst your thoughts, you head Xiao’s steps, and quickly turned to him in a weird way “ Ah-!Xiao, you shouldn’t have- hm? Xiao? what’s wrong with your face?” You slightly turned your head a bit to the side to see better a slight red shade in his face “Did he get bruised while fighting?” you thought.
However Xiao’s eyes narrowed a bit and he quickly turned to the door, his steps heavy, “Humph, we’re wasting time. Let’s go” and kept on walking his way. You were a bit surprised but quickly began walking fast to catch up with him, and even tho he wouldn’t turn his head to you no matter what, you could notice the tips of his ears a bit red. But you didn’t pry further on the matter.
The End
bonus
While both of you were walking down the stairs, Verr saw you two coming out of the same room, and when you looked at her you could only see her with a hand covering her mouth and her widen eyes silently following you two.
———————
Lol this was supposed to be HC kind of thing, but it became a whole 3k words oneshot XD
Anyway, I hope you liked it since this is my first time writing about Xiao, or anything in the “X Reader” category so I'm sorry if I did anything wrong.
I will try to keep my requests open, so feel free to go there
here uwu Requests
#genshin impact#xiao x reader#xiao#genshin impact x reader#genshin xiao#genshin x reader#xiao x lumine#xiao x aether#genshin xiao x reader#fanfic#oneshot#genshin impact headcanons#genshin headcanons#genshin impact xiao#xiao x traveler
341 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw you rb a SaiSaku post and was curious if you had any fanfic recs for this rarepair?!
Do I have?!!!!! I am currently binging this ship so you couldn't have asked this at better time.
.
This pair is not a crack ship! Crack would mean they have not shared more than two words with each other. But SaiSaku interactions always bordered on romance and best friends who don't act like it. Not only Sakura was the first person to acknowledge Sai had human side to him and bonded with him over his painting, Sai was also the only person outside Sasuke (in part 1) to be able tell her fake smiles and he always understood her feelings better than other characters. Had Sakura ever only cared for good looks (something she don't) then with Sai she'd get that and so much more.
I have always considered SaiSaku as the next best thing after NaruSaku. They had too much potential as a couple. I am not bitter that InoSai became a thing but looking at them I only feel that "Ino didn't get Sasuke so she get his look-alike." Besides, Sai gave people nicknames that are opposites to what actually feels about them – Naruto as Dickless, Sakura as Hag/Ugly and Ino as Beautiful – which makes it worse. Both Ino and Sai deserve better than this. If Kishi has shown them together more often or had interactions between them similar to SaiSaku then I can understand why Ino is his light. I guess it is also SP's fault for showing them in different light. For all SP hates Sakura, they enjoy messing up with her fans by feeding them false hope.
Whenever I want to read something hilarious but deep, SaiSaku is my to-go couple. Usually angsty, or full bout of insults and punches. There's no in between with them.
. SaiSaku .
This list contains my favorite SaiSaku collection. I am not sure if you like SaiSaku only as romance ship but this list also contain stories that expands on SaiSaku friendship, something I absolutely adore.
.
Could Roses Bloom? : RiseoftheBlossom || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || GaaSaku, SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || Ongoing
Sai glanced downwards at his body, the sudden override of his thoughts causing his mind to blank. What did that mean? Had he been straying too close to a piece of information Danzo didn't want him to have or share? Or was it his mind's natural response to shutting down any form of emotion, even if it was just the slightest of inclination towards feeling something?
Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, SaiSaku friendship, confused-over-his-feelings!Sai, slow burn, GaaSaku, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, angst with fluff
.
hello, bright eyes (been waiting on you) : mouseymightymarvellous || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot
“look underneath the underneath,” except no one has ever really bothered to look at sakura and see her. and then there is a boy (isn’t there always). maybe they’re both just ghosts, making each other real.
Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, confused-over-her-feelings!Sakura, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, Sai and Sakura who don't feel like they belong, angst with fluff, sad!Sai
.
Oh God That’s Heaven : blueberrysconesandfolkmusic || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot
Sakura finds Sai sick, alone, and in desperate need of a hand that doesn't hurt.
Go for it if you like: boys who are bad at feelings, bleeding-heart!Sakura, sad-and-lonely!Sai, Sai and Sakura who are secretly best friends, Sai with PTSD, protective!team7
.
for everything blue and bright : sinemoras09 || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku, SasuSaku || Angst || One Shot
The five stages of human arousal.
Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, obsessed!Sakura, One-sided love, Unrequited-love-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it!SaiSaku, no-good-very-bad!Ending, pining!Sai, bittersweet lemon
.
A mess of me : Dovey || M || AO3 || Pre-Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Yandere Romance || Complete
In which Sai is a good ANBU agent with an unusual hobby, and Sakura grows up with a #1 fan rooting for her....even if she doesn't know it. Or: Sai starts stalking Sakura when they're both young to satisfy his curiousity about 'normalcy', gets attached, and eventually gets very frustrated that nobody else seems to notice her potential as a shinobi and takes matters into his own hands- and delights in being Sakura's prime source of validation because of it.
Go for it if you like: obsessed!Sai, manipulation, stalker!Sai, mentor!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, distraught!Kakashi, fluff, baby-Sai-stalking-baby-Sakura, abusive haruno household
.
There is sunshine on his forehead : amako || T || AO3 || Soulmate AU || SaiSaku but it's complicated || Angst, Hurt/Comfort || One Shot
Sakura is only three when she promises herself that Sasuke will die by her hand, whoever he is.
Go for it if you like: dysfunctional Team 7, Soulmate AU, Unrequited love feels, angst heavy, Sai and Sakura only want to belong, NaruSasu, NaruSaku but not really, betrayal heavy, no fluff only pain, SaiSaku, Team 7 taking Sakura for granted, Sakura is so done
.
In theory : nimblnymph || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Humor || One Shot
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sai was about to learn that this theory applied to more than just physics. And that putting theory into practice sometimes gave unexpected results.
Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, teacher!Sakura, student!Sai, Sai getting educated, Sakura educating Sai, Kisses, Sai being Sai, Sakura with patience of god
.
Loathing : i AM the Random Idiot || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Angst || One Shot
Define "hatred."
Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, hurt!Sai, Angst, Onions, SakuSai bonding over mutual hate, love is overrated anyway
.
Bunk Mates : ice bitten || T || FFN || Shippuden || Team 7 || Humor, Friendship || One Shot
In which Sasuke and Naruto find out Sakura has been sleeping over at Sai's. Short stories surrounding Sakura, Sai, and the invasive people of Konoha.
Go for it if you like: sassy!Sai, protective!Team7, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, Perfect characterisation, Canon feels
.
Paint me with Colour : PeregrineFlight || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku|| Humor, Friendship || Incomplete
Sai and Sakura must travel to the Land of Lightning to retrieve something for the Daimyo, they have to travel as a married couple. Much to Naruto's amusement.
Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, pretend marriage, SaiSaku bonding over mission, fluffy angst, adorable!Sai
.
Forget Me Not : Joy-girl || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || Team 7 || Angst, Friendship || Complete
Sometimes it's easy to forget how important someone is when the person is always in the background – but Sakura's boys still remember. Glimpses of her importance from each member of her team.
Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, underappreciated Sakura, Team7 family, Family feels, sad!Sakura, protective!Team7 males, Sakura appreciation, SaiSaku bond, Team7Saku feels, avenger!Teammates
.
Add Me Colour : Cella N || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku || Drama, Romance || Complete
"All my life is white. Paint me. Add me colour."
Go for it if you like: lonely!Sakura, Sai being Sai, confused!Sakura, angst, poetic translation, colors
.
Euphemisms : Nymbis || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor, Romance || Complete(?)
Drabbles about Sai, Sakura, and their strange attempts at bonding.
Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, Hilarious friendships, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches, Raunchy stuff
.
Ricochet : Strix 4 || T || FFN || Shippuden AU || Team 7 || Family, Drama || Complete(?)
Sometimes it's easy to see the familiar in the faces around you. Sometimes it sucks to figure out why.
Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, Team7 as family, Family feels, wise!Sakura, SaiSaku bond, Sai's place in team 7
.
Pick up lines : Demoneyes 14 || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor || One Shot
Ero sennin's pick up lines! Guaranteed to get the girl or your money back! Well... it would be more guaranteed if it hadn't fallen on his face in the library, but heck, Sai will try anything once! Maybe it will save him a beating from Sakura...
Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches
.
.
Special mentions...
Study of the Heart : teresa
In an effort to become a better friend, Sai undertakes a study of love, not really understanding how difficult it could be, and how surprising.
.
The Blood of a Cherry Blossom : Slytherin Kunoichi
Originally, for Halloween, Sai hadn't decided what to go as, but once he glimpsed at the bleeding flesh on Sakura's neck, he suddenly had the urge to be a vampire…
.
Old Dogs, New Tricks : yuugiri
After an unprecedented turn of events, the Fifth Hokage has officially assigned Sakura Haruno the responsibility to make Sai recover what he had lost; his emotions. With a time limit of a month, will Sakura succeed in this mission?
.
Once More, With Feeling : Cynchick
Sakura didn't know what she was thinking when she showed up on his doorstep.
.
Ink Me : Krickitat
Exploring the art of bod-modification Sakura takes a step into the unknown world of the exquisite pain of art.
.
The Uchiha Secret : Slytherin Kunoichi
Sasuke froze as he stared at Sai's eyes, which were identical to his Uchiha Sharingan eyes now: red with anger and black with hatred...One family secret could threaten and shake three lives forever. Bonds will be broken.
.
.
.
My babies don't get enough love in the world.
youtube
#i have more but these are my favorite#if you want more dm me#saisaku#i love my two babies#their dynamics is uwu#sakusai#sai x sakura#team 7#family dynamics#family feels#friendship heavy#sai appreciation#i love him so muuuuuch#he deserves the world#naruto fanfiction#naruto#naruto fandom#fanfictions#fanfics#fanfiction reccomendations#i reccomend it#sasusaku#i stand with saisaku#team 7 shenanigans
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Thrilling Saga of Connie paying real life money for the Worst Sonic TV Show
Let’s begin with the simple fact that me and my sister, @birdsareblooming “Cori”, have both been hyperfixating on Sonic the Hedgehog since last March. During this hyperfixation, I was on Sonic Wiki to copy-paste song lyrics onto my stolen mp3s, and I called my sister in and pointed at the template at the bottom.
“What is this Sonic Underground thing?” I asked. “It has one shit billion songs.”
So we clicked on the page to read about it, and each sentence we read was a punch in the gut and this quickly became the funniest thing we’d ever read. Highlights include:
It looks like this:
“Sonic[...] is known to be a prince”
Sonic has two siblings who actually have good characterization but their names are literally just Sonia and Manic. Like. Sonic split into two names. jesus christ
Also Sonic and his siblings all share a voice actor. honestly Jaleel White does his best with it but
“The three siblings possess enchanted medallions that transform not only into musical instruments, but also into weapons.”
“Some fans consider Sonia to be a clone of Amy Rose, minus the attraction Amy feels for Sonic.” YEAH I SURE HOPE IT DOES
“Manic is the most often captured of the siblings” himbo king
Knuckles shows up, and for the first, like, two sentences his description is very similar to the game, and then you get immediately pulverized by “He has a pet Dinosaur called Chomps.”
Literally so many sentences on Sonic Wiki are lowkey salty about this show. The page features lines such as “Sonic Underground bears little relation to the often complex Sonic universe (including previous animated series, as well as Sonic comics and games), and shares only three established characters” and “many of the characters in the Freedom Fighter group that were in Sonic the Hedgehog are completely left out (including Tails).”
“The show met with mostly negative reviews.”
*checks air dates* It only lasted two goddamn months
So after seeing this we thought it was the funniest thing and we showed our older sister, @patema-introverted “North.” To our surprise, our at the time “knew nothing about this sonic bullshit” sister recognized the show. Turns out she’d seen trailers for it as a child and that was her sole exposure to Sonic canon.
We were in quarantine at the time, so we ended up finding it on YouTube and binge-watching it all together as a sibling bonding activity. It was just as hilarious as we thought it would be- some stuff was legitimately good, like the sibling dialogue for instance, but good lord were the character designs ugly, the plot all over the place, and pretty much every song, um, not great. Also there was one episode that we skipped because it got, um, I think “stereotypical” is the nicest word I can use here.
But the point is, we had a jolly good time watching it, and afterwards we binged all the other Sonic shows and bonded as a family.
After quarantine, North and I go back to college. My roommate gets groceries at Walmart, while I get them elsewhere, so while she and North collect food I wander the DVD aisle to look at the cool movies and also dumpster-dive in the bargain bin for Cats (2019). I am also short as fuck, so the top shelf of movies I cannot see, I can only read the labels.
So one day I was browsing the DVDs, and glancing over at the labels for the top shelf. I read over the final one before the shelves end.
And then I stop, do a double take, and have a heart attack, because there is a label that reads “SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74″
I immediately climb the shelf but there aren’t any DVDs atop the shelf. However, the label is still there. I excitedly tell my sister and roommates, freak out with them a bit, and then give myself a mission statement:
I will buy the $4 Sonic Underground DVD from Walmart
I did not want it as a gift, I did not want to find it online. I wanted to walk into a store, pick up the Worst Sonic Show on DVD, walk it straight to the checkout, and in front of the cashier and God, pay for it with my own money. I did not care if it was the whole series or two episodes; I needed to do this for my own serotonin.
We would go to Walmart about once a week. Every time, I would go to the DVD aisle, and go right to the end of the shelves. I would stare at the label SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74 and empty space above it and wonder who the fuck was buying this other than me. I would occasionally ask employees if they had any copies in storage. I would build a shrine to Manic in my room. Okay, no I didn’t, but only because my RA would have murdered me.
Christmas break comes, and we have to go home. We have a nice Christmas, and Cori and I infodump at each other about how we would make Sonic Underground a good show (note: we’re both galaxy braining) and also play Bendy and the Ink Machine. Fun times.
When we finally get back to College, it’s late January- long story short we have a very long winter break. My roommate who gets food at Walmart got food without us the first week cause she showed up first, so we take her out to Walmart the first time in the year of our lord 2021 on January 29.
I wander the Valentine’s aisle, immediately grabbing a sequin puppy. I go to the DVDs and see Animaniacs Season One, also grab that.
And then.
There it is.
The Holy Grail.
Above the label SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74, is one DVD left.
Already I am losing my mind. It’s roughly seven hours of episodes- I couldn’t find an episode list, but I think that’s half the show, for $4! And the cover is amazing.
That’s a png of Sonic from Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) with a medallion badly photoshopped over it. The medallion is too small.
Manic is shoved into the corner. He doesn’t have his medallion at all.
Sonia isn’t even pictured on the front cover, probably because they realized she was the worst designed of the bunch. I’m not ragging on her though, because she’s still one of the better designed characters of the show. Those background characters make me cry
So you bet your ass I finally paid my hard-earned $4 for this shit. Upon getting home, I discovered that there was even wilder shit with this DVD than I thought.
For starters: the bonus features listed are as follows:
Original Concept Art - did not expect that these character designs were the final draft
Storyboard-to-screen - did not expect they bothered to storyboard this
Music Video Jukebox - that’s cute, they thought we liked the music
Interviews with original screenwriter & executive producer - I fully expect the only questions to be “why.”
On the left of this list are screenshots from the show, where people can finally see Sonia, who we Know™ is a girl because she is pink and has hair and also an actual body shape instead of just circles like her brothers.
But wait... what’s that in the lefthand corner?
That looks like some kind of robot. But it’s not a robot from Sonic Underground! That didn’t appear once. Why is it here?
The mystery continues upon opening the DVD case: inside are advertisements for other collections, including other Sonic DVDs: two volumes of Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) and the final episodes of Sonic the Hedgehog “SatAM” (1993)
First of all, the first volume of AOSTH has the exact same PNG of Sonic as the Underground Volume 1. Not even trying to hide it. But second... the second volume of AOSTH also has this robot on its cover.
And THIS ROBOT IS ALSO DECORATING THE THIRD DISC IN THE SET?
So you may be asking, who is this robot? Is it from AOSTH or Underground?
IT’S FROM FUCKING SATAM. The one show that doesn’t have it decorating the DVD covers.
Also, not only is it from SatAM, it only appears in one fucking episode. Not a major character! AND IT HAS A DIFFERENT DESIGN ON THE PROMO ART, WITH HAIR AND FANGS.
Why is it showing up everywhere? What is going on?
I have not yet had the opportunity to watch this glorious piece of animation, but I am so glad at the confusion I have felt upon receiving it.
But before I go, I must share with you the best part of this DVD purchase. And it was flipping to the back, scanning the details, and discovering the exact runtime of the episode collection.
Guys, gals, and enby pals, friends and enemies, Nintendo and Sega, the first Volume of Sonic Underground has a runtime of...
420 MINUTES.
Maybe I’m wrong and this IS the best Sonic show.
542 notes
·
View notes
Text
Somewhere Only We Know
A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.
I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x
***
The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.
Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.
Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.
Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.
There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.
It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.
Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.
There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.
Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.
Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.
Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.
So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.
That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.
You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.
The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.
2019 was significantly different though.
See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.
Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.
Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.
Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him
There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’
And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.
But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.
A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.
He’d been good. Of course he had been.
He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.
And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.
It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.
As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.
You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.
You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.
That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.
Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.
He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.
He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.
Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.
And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.
He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.
Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.
If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.
Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.
After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.
He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.
You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.
Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.
“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”
Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.
You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.
The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.
Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.
While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.
Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.
It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.
But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.
And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.
“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.
“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”
You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.
Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.
He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.
You’d be alright.
***
You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.
A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.
“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.
“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.
“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.
“You didn’t ask.”
“‘M askin’ now.”
With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.
“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.
You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”
“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.
“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”
Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?
“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”
He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.
“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.
“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”
“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”
“Probably,” you softly laughed.
“‘S a bit different now though innit?”
“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.
Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”
“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”
He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”
Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.
His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”
“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”
“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”
“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”
Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.
Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.
“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“
Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”
“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.
“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”
He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.
“You.”
“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”
But you had noticed them.
His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.
Treating you how he always did.
Oh, treating you how he always did.
Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.
“Changes everything.”
Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”
You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.
He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?
But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.
When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.
Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?
The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.
Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.
And neither did he.
This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.
Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.
Understanding was vital.
This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.
Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.
And for once you didn’t feel alone.
The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.
He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.
“‘S it fucked?”
You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.
“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.
Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.
You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.
“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“
You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.
“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“
His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”
“We were both drunk, it happens.”
“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”
“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”
“Were yer?”
You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.
“Was I?”
You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.
“Good t’know.”
***
Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.
The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.
A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.
Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.
Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.
This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”
“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”
He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.
“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.
With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”
“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”
Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.
“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”
Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.
Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.
“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”
Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.
“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”
Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.
With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.
He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.
Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly
classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.
The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.
It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.
Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.
“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”
His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.
“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”
“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”
You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.
Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.
“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”
With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.
“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”
“This one’s mine,” he responded.
Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.
Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.
No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.
“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”
“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.
Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.
There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”
You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
You had tried him.
Truth be told you wanted to again.
If he wanted to.
Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.
“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”
You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.
“Of everything being the same, but different?”
His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.
“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”
“People?”
“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”
His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.
“You can stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you did three nights ago.”
Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.
“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”
You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.
His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“
“Harry,” you breathed.
“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”
If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.
His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.
With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.
Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.
“‘S wrong?”
His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?
“We know how this is going to end.”
“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.
His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.
“How’s that? Tell me.”
“Same, but different.”
You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.
“Not if I have my way.”
His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.
“Same, but better.”
Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.
“Different, but better.”
He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”
A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.
When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.
If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.
He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.
Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.
His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.
The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.
His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.
“Do you?”
Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.
You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.
Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.
“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.
“You don’t have to-“
“No?”
Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.
This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.
Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.
“What ya doing?”
“Nothing,” you mused.
He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.
“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”
You giggled. “No.”
“Please do.”
A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.
Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.
“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.
His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.
The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.
Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.
You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.
His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.
“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.
“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.
“Smooth.”
Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.
And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.
“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.
You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.
One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.
Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”
He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.
While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.
“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”
“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”
He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.
His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.
Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.
With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.
Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.
“Gi’me a kiss.”
Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.
He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.
The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.
“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”
You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.
“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.
“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”
You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.
Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.
An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.
He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.
This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.
Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.
Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.
You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.
“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”
It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.
And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.
Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.
“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”
“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“
And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.
You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.
It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.
And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.
“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.
His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.
You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.
When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.
You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.
Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.
A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.
#gbsxmaschallenge#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry styles x reader#harry x reader#harry styles x you#harry x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles christmas#harry christmas
564 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mokacchi
sunshine
brandnewseptembers
New Septembers
arcticadventure12
Arctic Adventure
renovationwellness
Renovation Wellness