Natsu x Reader One Shots

Natsu x Reader: Red

A/N: So, uh, long time no see, eh? COVID basically kicked my ass, triggered some seizures and landed me in the hospital for a while lol. I was just officially cleared to look at screens again a little over a week ago lol. Sorry I haven't updated. Anyways! I decided to try something a little different for this one; I don't think I've done a 1st person one yet. Let me know what you think of this style. I'll try to get back to requests once I get into the groove of things again. :)

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It wasn't until he showed up that I viewed the color red like that.

In fact, I always kind of hated the color red. It was always one that I associated with the negative - anger, frustration, aggression, destruction. Red, the color of hurt. The color of pain. Of betrayal. I always held that dislike for red. I never thought I would ever like this color. But that all changed that day.

That day, the twentieth of December. Frost formed in my nostrils as I tried (and failed) to keep warm under the blankets, tattered and thin, that were "given" to me before I was forced out of my homeland. For eighteen days, I wandered around the snowy landscape. The dead of winter had arrived, and with it came numerous blizzards and freezing afternoons.

Lost, cold, confused - all that ran through me, just as my shallow breaths ran to catch a sliver of warmth that my body would feel as I hyperventilated. I mean, would I rather freeze to death or simply be in danger of passing out? Chances were that I would pass out from the lack of warmth anyway, so I might as well have tried to do something about it. Couldn't really do much though.

Not like I had a choice.

My clothes, thin as the blankets, had also been soaked through from the constant snowfall. My hair, once a clear (H/C), was completely brushed over with the snowflakes that had refused to melt. I truly believe that I would have died that day if I hadn't met him. I was on track to starving, to freezing, to becoming an untreatable illness. But a pair of loud shouts broke through the howling winds, and when I looked up I saw what looked like a group of around ten men faced with a single man and a...cat?

In that moment, confusion was present, so much so that the chill in my bones and my soul dissipated. As the group rushed the individual, that color sparked from his hands. And soon the blazing red overwhelmed my partial vision of the encounter. It's all I could see.

A bright, saturated, pronounced red. Not quite like the deep red of the blood that oozed from the many cuts I had collected over my travels. Not at all like the rust that had grown on my lone weapon. An unfamiliar shade.

As the once smug shouts turned to ones of fear, the red fully broke through the rapidly falling snow. All I could do was stare. Feet planted into the ground two feet below the accumulated snow, both to ground myself and prepare myself for the full sprint I might have to start depending on the intent of this individual.

Within minutes, the shouts had disappeared. As I looked up at the scene, I found that the outline of that individual was the only one left standing. It became obvious that he had sensed my presence, as told by the pair of black eyes that pierced their way to mine. There was nothing I could do at that minute except wait for my inevitable end.

Red: death, torture, persecution. Looking back, I had no doubt that this man would be my quietus. So, as he turned in my direction, my stinging hand, with what little control I had left of it, tightly gripped my broken sword. If I had to, I would fight until my last breath. But...would I be able to take him on?

Honestly, even now, I am still unable to.

His steps were muted by the storm around us, but I still heard every move, every crunch underneath his feet.