#Another scar one more scratch. To my heart that’s made out of glass It lights a spark. burning hot. One I had nearly forgot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randynova · 3 years

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♡𝓜𝔂 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷♡

𝓖𝓾𝓷 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐴𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝐺𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝐺𝑜𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

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𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔(𝑠):𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡(𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝)! 𝐺𝑢𝑛

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“Why couldn’t this have waited until another day?” Gun muttered, unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slide off his taut frame, and neatly folding it, placing it onto the roof of his car. He was glad he hadn't put his jacket on, having left it in his passenger seat. “I can’t dirty my clothes again, [Name] will be mad if I get blood on it.” He rolled his broad shoulders until they released a satisfying crack, his thick muscles bulging as he stretched his arms across his scarred chest. Gun peered at a nearby store, the digital clock displaying in big white numbers, ‘7:45 PM’. He groaned, his lips curling into a scowl whilst his arms fell to his side. He didn’t have enough time to deal with this.

“Hmm, and it’s almost time for our date. Fuck.” Gun whispered to himself. He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at the man across from him. He removed his shades and revealed his dark gaze, placing his favorite accessory to his side as well. “I’ll make this quick, Goo. I have more important places to be.”

Goo laughed, grinning in his spot as he balanced a pole in his hands. He rolled his eyes, arching a brow at his partner. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Gun, maybe if you didn’t spend all your time by [Name]’s side, we could have dealt with this matter much earlier. That girl has you wrapped around her pretty little finger, huh?”

“Shut it,” Gun said, already racing towards the blonde and thrusting his fist, knuckles colliding with metal. Upon the cold sensation meeting his skin, he wanted to absolutely kill Goo and rip him to shreds. This would take longer than he wanted, wasting his already precious, short time. He backed off, having a considerable distance between the two, stretching his fingers a few times before clenching them again. He growled, spitting venomously, “You just like picking fights.”

“You did too. Before you met her, y’know,” Goo tutted, waving his finger in the air. He scoffed, voice low, “Who would’ve thought? Gun going soft for a girl. Psh, pathetic. Never thought I’d live to see the day...” The blonde trailed off, his face becoming stoic, his mind wandering. You truly had to be someone exceptional if you managed to have a guy like Gun to fall for you. He always wondered who you were, how you looked like, what you did, but Gun had kept you a secret from the world of crime. He hid almost every known trace abou you and tied every loose end that implicated you existed. No one knew who you were and no one could find you — unless Gun allowed them to.

Goo found it so irritating how he was unable to know the girl who made such a notorious gangster go soft.

He only met you once and that was by pure sheer luck; dropping by unexpectedly at one of Gun's apartments, only to be met with the sight of you. Seeing how Gun reacted, he knew you were supposed to be kept hush-hush. But boy, did he have a field day the next time he saw the man.

Goo had to meet you again. Or at least, know you more.

Only when Gun’s fist connected with Goo’s face did the man snap out of his thoughts, the impact of such force throwing him a few feet backwards. He dug his feet into the floor, a high-pitched screech coming from his shoes as the rubber burned against the pavement. With his sleeve, Goo wiped his cheek, seeing a speck of blood staining his clothes. Goo chuckled, standing up straight with a grin, “If I can remember right, you told me you got Eli Jang in trouble for basically the same thing. What was her name again? Heather?”

Goo blocked the upcoming attack, his pole raised and crossed above his face. He pushed Gun back with an effortless swing of the pole. He tilted his head and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “How is [Name] any different from Heather? What does she have on you?”

Gun twisted his neck gently until he heard a crack, looking back at Goo as he hissed with venom, “Nothing.”

“Let me think, let me think….” Goo hummed, racking his mind for any possibility that someone like Gun would stay with a woman longer than one night. His face lit up and he broke out into a wide grin, pointing a finger at Gun. “Aha! You got the poor girl knocked up, right?! See, I always tell you to wear protection! Just couldn’t keep it in your pants, hm? Shaaame.”

“Ugh, fuck no. I don’t want kids and neither does she. We made that clear at the beginning," Gun said with a sneer, annoyed beyond comprehension at Goo's antics.

“Awe, I really thought she held something over you. How about this: I’ll stop fighting you if you tell me why you’re still with such a pretty girl like [Name]? Deal?" Goo offered, slinging the pole onto his shoulder. His eyes darkened as he spat maliciously, knowing each word would wind and rile Gun's emotions. "She deserves better than a perverted gangster, you both know that.”

Gun stayed silent, the corners of his lips tugging down into a frown. Goo’s last words struck a chord in him, sending a pang through his heart upon hearing an insecurity he’ll never admit to. Of course. Everyone told you to stay away from a man like Gun. People kept telling you you will only get hurt in the end, that a better man will come along and sweep you off your feet if you just waited, or you could always do better than him. But you never listened. You stayed by his side, even when the whole world looked down on you two. Even for months, he tried convincing himself he felt nothing for you, but after a while, he finally accepted that someone managed to tear down his walls and enter his hollow, cold heart — you.

You were just a different kind of girl - no- a different kind of woman. A special woman he had the pleasure of meeting. One he wouldn’t dare let go of now that he has the privilege of calling you ‘mine’. And by any god out there, he won’t be a stupid fool to lose you.

Gun sighed. “I tell you and you’ll put this stupid fight behind us, right?”

Goo placed a hand over his chest, replying shortly, “You have my word.~”

“[Name] is just that special person you meet once in your life. One you know you can’t let go of because there isn’t another like her. Simple as that.”

“What?! Ugh, don’t be boring! Tell me more!”

“You asked why I stayed with her and I told you.”

“Yeah, but I expected a story, not some sad attempt at an old man’s wise words.”

A low guttural sound rumbled in Gun’s throat, his eye twitching. “Maybe when I’m in a better mood I’ll tell you, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my woman.”

Goo groaned and tossed his pole to the side, rolling his eyes and grumbling, "Fiiine, but you owe me a story. "

"Whatever—damnit," Gun looked at the clock once again and his face contorted into one of pure irate. "I'm late."

'8:12 PM'

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Your head rested on your hand, balancing a glass of wine between your fingers, twirling the cup as the liquid swished around. Your eyes were looking down on the glory of Gangdong, the shimmering, blinding lights of the city mesmerizing you. The city always looked beautiful at this time of night. You just wished you could enjoy it with the person you cherished. A sigh leaves your lips and you look away, eyes trailing to the other tables over the balcony.

The lingering eyes of many strange men didn't faze you anymore, the two burly boys surrounding your table always making them avert their gaze as fast as it landed. A courtesy of your boyfriend, who was at least thirteen minutes late, who insisted on you needing to be guarded at all times. You knew if he were here, no one would dare to even breathe in your direction, let alone glance.

The cool air pricked your skin and a shiver passed through your body, reminding you of where you were. For a man as smart as him, Gun tended to neglect keeping the season in mind when planning your dates. Nonetheless, you were happy he went out of his way to take you out on such a busy schedule.

You jumped in your seat, snapping out of your thoughts. A jacket was wrapped around your frame, warmth immediately enveloping you as the fabric made contact with your bare skin. You looked up and smiled.

Gun stood behind you, towering over your sitting form as he made sure you were nice and covered. His coat basically swallowed you whole. A small stuffed animal was tucked under his arm, it’s fluffy fur peeking out. He walked over to take his seat, pulling the chair out, and wasting no time to slip in. He waved to the guards and they nodded, beginning to clear the scene of people.

“Sorry I’m late, [Name],” Gun started, taking the stuffie out from underneath his arm and presenting it to you. Oh, how adorable. "I brought you a gift as an apology."

A small brown otter sat in his palms, barely taking up Gun's hands. It’s beady, plastic eyes looked straight at you, a little smile stitched onto its snout. A snort left you. The sight of such a well-dressed, intimidating man carrying such an adorable toy was amusing. "Really now? Just a cute toy, Gun?"

Gun sighed and sat up a bit from his chair, leaning over the table, and cupping your face as he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. As quick as it started, Gun's lips left and he was seated once again. You pout. "Don't give me that look, [Name]. We can do more at home if you want but not here."

"It's not wrong to be disappointed in no kiss on the mouth after not seeing your boyfriend for such a long time. Don't you think I deserve it?"

Gun smirked, placing his shades on the table and taking your hand, intertwining your fingers together. He gave a light squeeze and you didn't miss a beat as you squeezed his coarse hand back. The way you pursed your lips and looked at him with such glossy, innocent eyes made his heart swell. With such a pretty, cute face, it was hard to say no to you. "Hmm, maybe. But Olly told me you crossed paths with Hostel A." Gun spoke, slipping his hands from yours and picking up his dinnerware, quickly cutting the savory meat into pieces. He didn't hesitate to put a piece up to your mouth, a hand underneath so as to not have the juice leak. "I was told you nearly broke the Uncles' bones and Big Daddy himself."

Your face scrunched up and you scoffed, shaking your head. You placed the stuffed animal to the side, petting it. "Figured those assholes wouldn’t tell you everything. The ‘uncles’ wouldn’t leave me alone and I thought Olly was another one of those bastards,” you snap, sitting back in your seat with a scowl. “How was I supposed to know he was trying to help when he dresses like that? I thought he was trying to assault me for God’s sake!”

Gun placed down his fork on his plate and his face twisted into one of fury, eyes turning cold and rigid as all the warmth disappeared whilst his lips curled back into a nasty frown. You almost thought his infamous scowl was directed towards you, but you knew better. You dear boyfriend wouldn't dare lay a single finger on you if it didn't bring you pleasure. "They what?"

You smiled softly, placing your hand over his as it clenched into a fist. With your small attempt at trying to soothe him by rubbing small circles, you spoke with a bit of hesitation, "Ah, yeah. They kept trying to get my number and wouldn't let me leave the booth I was in. I had no other choice than to use the training you taught me. Since I never met Olly, I really thought he was just another one of them and I reacted before thinking, making me attack him too."

Gun scoffed, shaking his head as he listened to your explanation with disbelief, every word fueling his rage of someone daring to hit on his woman. Every fiber in Gun's body screamed, wanting to feel their skin underneath his fists as he pounded them into oblivion. But the only thing stopping him was his date with you. For now, he'll put his anger aside to be with you and keep you happy. Who knows how long he'll be gone and when he'll see you again. The man has to make every second count.

Yet, he couldn’t let this go unpunished.

"Fuck." Gun leans closer to you and sits on the edge of his chair. Placing his hand over yours, he slips his fingers to grasp your palm, and lifts your hand to his lips, pressing tender kisses against your knuckles. His thumb grazing softly across your fingers and his eyes flutter shut. You couldn't help but stare in awe, never quite seeing him like this.

So careful with you, so gentle, you were surprised he wasn't seething in his seat and threatening to break their heads open. Gun opens his eyes and looks up at you, shaking in his seat. “I promise I’ll have those fuckers begging on their knees for your forgiveness. They should know better than to treat a woman with such rudeness and disrespect. Shit, I’ll go right now. I’ll beat them till-”

Your sweet laugh reaches his ears, cutting him off from his little speech. You lean in and pull in his hand to your lips, pressing a tender peck to his coarse knuckles. Gun felt his heart race and skip a beat at the sight, shock crossing his features. You look up, looking at your boyfriend with mirthful eyes. “As much fun as that sounds, I'd rather you stay here. Please? I want to spend as much time with you before you go back to work.”

The man stayed silent for a few seconds, taking in your words. He looked away, clicking his tongue before he broke out into a small smile, a blush blooming across his cheeks and the tip of his ears burning a bright red. “Of course, [Name]. Though, you could’ve just said you like spending time with me.”

Giggling, you lower your hands and shake your head. “Gun, of course I like spending time with you. You’re my favorite person and I love you after all.” Your voice said those three words with such fondness, it’s as if the man was in a dream.

If your words from before didn’t send Gun over the edge, your proclamation of love surely did now. He looked down, grinning like an idiot, showing a soft, bashful side he’s never revealed to anyone before. He swore his heart would jump out of his throat from how fast it was pounding against his ribcage. Gun grasped your hand tightly and sighed blissfully, Gently, he spoke, gazing at you with loving eyes, “I love you too.”

You smiled.

The tension in the air grew to be too much and both of you found it unbearable, wanting to do what both of you have been waiting for for weeks.

Both of you sat up and leaned over the table, closing the gap between you two as your lips interlocked, slipping together like if you were made for eachother. The kiss sparked and fed the fire both of you held in your hearts, burning brighter with every moment you spent at one another’s side. Gun couldn’t help but smile against your mouth.

As much as he hated being apart from you for so long, moments like these made the long hours worth it. If working so much meant he could provide for you, then he wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of his life if you had a roof over your head and a nice, warm meal at night.

Afterall, you were his woman.

And he loved you.

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©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 .

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#lookism #lookism gun #lookism x reader #lookism imagine #lookism imagines #gun lookism #jong gun #jong gun x reader #lookism fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction x reader #fanfic #lookism fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reader #reader imagine #gun imagine #jong gun imagine

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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through the looking glass

“Please don’t kill me!” you begged from the floor, your hands raised, trying to get this psycho to leave you alone. “I-I-I don’t think I taste that good? I’ve tried my blood before, and it’s disgusting, true fact! Mosquitos don’t even like me that much!” “I don’t eat humans, I—” the psycho samurai man tried to speak, but you were far from done pleading for your life.

— Or in which you cross paths with Shinazugawa Sanemi and nothing is ever the same again.

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pairing: shinazugawa sanemi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, fluff, cursing, an instance of demon slaying, mirror sex, vaginal fingering, blowjob, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, cursing, praise kink, this is my first time writing for this fandom oh no

word count: 8,420

a/n: I fell asleep while editing this, good reminder to maybe not lay in a comfy blanket when trying to get shit out on time????? i love sanemi sm tho, please enjoy!

kinktober day 15 main kink: mirror sex | kinktober masterlist

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The sky was always prettier at night.

It wasn’t anything against the sky during the day! As a matter of fact, you also loved the light blue sky just at noon. You loved it wholly! You loved the way the sweet smell of crops of the earthy dewy scent traveled in the morning, and you loved how every creature in existence seemed to hum with life. The morning sky and earth were always busy.

But, you always found the deep dark blue-purple, nearly black night sky to be ethereal.

If you closed your eyes and listened closely, the nighttime, silent with white noise hanging through every quiet move of wind, felt like another world. Out near the countryside, not quite the city and not quite the farmlands, you were able to live a life where you felt safe, felt normal. You and your friends were always screaming and chasing each other through the streets following the setting sun. Your curfew hours pushed back for the night, letting you relax.

You loved to sit just at the edge of the farmed roads, right where the light from the town just disappeared into blackness. You would sit there, eyes bright, fingers pointed at the sky as you took in the irreplicable night sky. At sixteen years, you had decided to venture out on your own; your friends said that they wouldn’t be able to join you because of their own busy schedule and insisted that you don’t go on account of the few vanishing people the past few nights.

But, you were never one to pay mind to others’ opinions; your own mind set on seeing the supposed asteroid shower that night in tandem with the full blue moon was to be a sight you couldn’t miss. So, you laughed, scratching the back of your neck as you sigh.

“Fine, I won’t go,” you lied to them, and they smiled in gratefulness.

But, like the liar that you are, you found yourself rushing out of your home, your fingers clutching at your kimono as you run. The sun had already set, and if you were to make sure that you would make the sighting, you were going to need to get there now.

Eventually, you made it to that pathed dirt road, your eyes scanning the darkened sky with intense focus as you began to search for the asteroid shower you were promised. With the bright, beautiful moon in the sky, your feet stamping onto the road with your impatience and excitement, you listened to the whistling wind and chirping bugs as you waited.

Nothing abnormal or out of the ordinary.

It was tranquil, quiet, calm.

And finally, when the backdrop of the night sky served as the background to the beautiful shower of asteroids, a single sound that you’ve never heard before echoed from before you and immediately made your stomach sicken.

Someone was eating in the fields right before you, the sound of a person, maybe an animal, eating something as if it was starving. Slowly, the air filled with fickle laughter, a noise that had your heart racing as you stood up. Your attention no longer focused on the beautiful night sky, but instead, two pairs of yellow and red eyes staring at you.

“Oh? Would you look at that! Two humans already, and it's only three hours into the night!” a voice cackled, and even with the shroud of darkness brought by the hours of the night, you recognized what the not humans were eating.

It was a person.

Unable to scream due to fear, the horror burned through your veins as you tried to scramble to your feet and run away, only to find that you couldn’t even move. You began to cry instead. Fat tears welling down your cheeks as they stalked toward you at a speed you couldn’t start to believe was human or animal, and you curled into yourself, eyes unable to gaze up at the sky one last time.

“So this is where you shithead demons have been fucking hiding?!” a voice practically roared behind you, and it was then you shrieked when a burst of wind exploded over you and a man dressed in a weird black uniform with a white haori with the kanji for ‘kill’ printed on it.

What the fuck was fucking going on?!

You pinched your skin, wondering if, by chance, the gods had cursed you at the very moment and forced you to hallucinate some strange reality.

“T-That’s a Hashira,” one of the not-human humans gasped, arm tugging at his friend. “We don’t stand a chance!”

What the fuck was a Hashira?!

“Like hell, we don’t!” the other snarled in defensive anger. You managed to push yourself onto your forearms, your knees still too weak to carry your standing weight. “Look at all his scars, gotta be hanging by a damn thread. He’s not even looking at us!”

You were taken back by that statement. Why wasn’t the third lunatic looking at them?! You snapped your attention from the non-human humans to look at the white-haired man who was staring at you. Your jaw dropped in your shock and slight embarrassment at the way his scarred face took you off-guard for a moment. Why was he looking at you and not the non-human humans?!

And in horror, you watched the psycho scarred man in front of you unsheathed a katana.

A katana.

The ringing of metal loud in your ear as you scrambled to your feet, this man was genuinely insane. Who still carried such weapons in this time period?! The samurai were no longer around, and he was dressed in something that looked weaker than your own kimono!

“Ni no kata: Sousou-Shina to Kaze,” the psycho samurai man spat, and if you hadn’t already believed you weren’t hallucinating already, you definitely did now. Jagged, solid apparitions of claw marks appeared from the air as the psycho man shot forward, the glinting menace of his katana tearing through the necks of both the non-human humans with such horrifying ease. You screamed.

The terrified scream didn’t stop afterward, only seems to increase in horror when you watched the bodies crumble into smoke and ash, their voices still muttering last words, bitter and abhorrently angry at being murdered. The psycho samurai had beheaded these non-human humans at such power and strength he had destroyed their living bodies!

Was this because you hadn’t thanked your aunties for adding that one extra meat bun when you noticed after going home?! No, it had to have been for breaking that perverted boy's nose the other day, and this was the curse he placed on you. Physical violence was never the answer; you vehemently prayed to your gods as you begged for forgiveness. Please spare your pathetic life.

Your jaw dropped as you watched the psycho samurai man, with what seemed like proficient knowledge and experience, flick his blade. Blood splattered off the blade, onto the floor, disintegrating too. And well, fuck the gods.

Spinning on your heel, you ran as fast as you possibly could, your chest heaving and nerves entirely shot because if you were hallucinating this badly, you needed to get home. Maybe that candy you ate earlier today from the snot-nosed brat was some weird drug. City kids could never be trusted.

“Are you okay?” a voice gruffed by your ear, and you shrieked, seeing the psycho man seemingly appear beside you. His footsteps were silent as he so obviously ran to catch up to you, and through your frightening horror, you found yourself tripping and falling onto your ass. Staring up at the wholly scarred man in front of you.

You had initially thought it was just his face that was scarred, but no, it was obviously more. There were jagged, ugly cuts lining his pectorals, abdomen, and if you weren’t making it up, you noticed some on his arms. Every piece of exposed flesh was lined with intense scars.

“I don’t eat humans, I—” the psycho samurai man tried to speak, but you were far from done pleading for your life.

“My mom says I have a thick neck! Called me an ox or something! I’m sure you don’t want to cleave off my head like you did the others?! Oh my god, am I gonna die?!” you squeaked, your fingers digging crescent shaped wounds into your arms as you began to cry. “I don’t wanna die!” you wailed, and then just the slightest bit pathetically: “I just wanted to see the asteroid shower.”

The psycho man seemed to grow irritated, his lips pulling back into a small snarl before he rolled his eyes. With tears in your eyes, you watched as the man threw his katana to the side, much too far away from him to use on you, and in the dim lights of the town behind you, you watched the shadows grow on his face as he sat down before you.

Not close enough to make you panic, but not far enough you were squinting to see him.

“My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi,” the psycho samurai man explained, and your eyes narrowed.

“That’s not a god or demon I’m aware of,” you muttered under your breath, but it seemed he heard it by the sour glare he gave you. You stilled under his weighted ton glare, your face warming as you averted your gaze.

“I’m not a god,” he spoke firmly, his arms folding underneath his chest. There was the chance he was a demon, you couldn’t help but think. “Nor am I demon.” You wilted.

“Rabid mountain boy?” you guessed, your nerves and adrenaline are still pounding way too heavy for you to filter your words.

He huffed, “No.”

“Well then—”

“Just let me explain,” he stressed, an eyebrow raised at you, and you stilled. It took a bit, but eventually, you nodded. “My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi, and I am a part of an organization called the Kisatsutai.”

Kisatsutai, the Demon Slayer Corps.

It rang an old bell in your memories, something distant, aged. Maybe a tall tale your grandparents had told you.

“It’s exactly as you think it to be,” he spoke, and you found your gaze rising to meet his. You realized even with the dull, yellowing light of the faraway lanterns, his eyes were a clouded purple. “Those two shitheads that tried to attack you are — were — demons. Yes, demons still exist,” he followed immediately as if knowing what stupid question you were going to ask next. Your mouth closed, and a chill ran down your spine knowing that non-human demon creatures that ate humans actually existed in this world. How had you been so unaware? “I’m a Hashira though, the wind Hashira to be exact. You’re living in my section of the territory I’m assigned to keep safe, so don’t worry. Demons don’t come out during the day; the sun kills them, so keep indoors at night, and you won’t have any issues.”

You remained silent, your mind twisting and turning as you tried to digest his words that seemed to rip apart your life. Sure, there was always a chance of being murdered in life; you weren’t that naive of an idiot to think so. But you never would have guessed that the potential murder you would have was a demon. It just seemed childish.

“T-That’s why they disintegrated?” you eventually babbled, your mind and consciousness entirely overloaded. “Are you some sun blooded person? How did you kill them?”

Sanemi stared at you but grunted. He rose to his feet and offered you a hand, “Top secret, can’t tell you.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer, and your mouth opened, ready to retaliate.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk,” Sanemi spoke, his hand tensing yet again in apparent effort to get you to grab it. “I’ll explain to you the bullshits of the reality of life later, but fortunately, this wasn’t the only area with demons nearby. So, unless you want me leaving you out here alone.”

A frown curled on your face, but with an unspoken level of trust, you grabbed his hand. You tried not to show how shocked and just awed you were at the calloused, entirely strong palms he had. You had no doubt in mind that he was a master swordsman, that title of Hashira seemed to be a big thing too, and the strength and power and callousness of his palm proved it.

“I’ll walk you home, pipsqueak; let’s get a move on it.”

Nodding your head quickly, you tore your hand from his and walked.

The walk was silent, and you could feel his presence lingering behind you like a hot coal in your pocket. You looked behind to see if he was still there several times, and each time he was staring straight ahead, eyes focused on something far away.

“You’ll be back tomorrow, Shinazugawa-san?” you ask as you made your way to the entrance of your home. You weren’t moving to go in, trying to figure out what he meant by explaining it all later.

“Tomorrow evening before I work,” Sanemi confirms, arms folding again.

You nod, “How old are you, Shinazugawa-san?”

He narrows his eyes but eventually rolls them, “Eighteen.”

Only two years older than you were, yet his hands felt like those of a war-veteran elder. It almost seemed like you and he grew up in entirely different worlds. You nod some more, absorbing his words and skills with better clarity as you finally begin to retreat past the gates. “Well, thank you for saving my life, Shinazugawa-san. I’ll leave—”

“You can watch it tomorrow night,” he said, face void of emotions.

You blink, “What?”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, looking entirely unimpressed. “The asteroid shower? The one you were watching or wanted to watch? Tomorrow night, another one will be happening.”

“O-Oh,” you felt warm, a smile spreading across your face as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know!”

He nods too, a sharp inhale whistling through the air before his shoulders relax, the tension leaving his body altogether. “Well, until tomorrow evening.”

“Goodnight, Shinazugawa-san,” you politely bow. “Stay safe tonight.”

“...you too.”

And when you pull up from the bow, he’s gone.

The next evening, Sanemi shows up again. The sun is still in the sky, barely on its decline, and the summer day's warmth is slowly cooling down. As promised, Sanemi answers all of your questions, or well, tries to answer it. Some questions you have, he roughly snarks that those are stupid questions that shouldn’t ever be asked again (i.e., you asking if he was a child of the sun and that's why the demons had died, you asking if he had grown up in the woods and that’s why he was so scarred, you asking if it was only him in this supposed corps). He makes it pretty clear and unmistakable right away that all demons are evil. That he has the power to kill most demons as he is now and is continuing to train himself daily to ensure that he will one day help eradicate the strongest demon. That had turned into a slight argument on how you seriously doubted an eighteen-year-old possessed the power to murder a thousand-year-old demon who has yet to be killed despite the numbers who have tried.

But Sanemi, for all that was worth speaking of, was strangely enticing. Whenever your family or friends peeked their nosy heads in to try and hear your conversations with the psychotic looking stranger, his rather brash and abrasive tone of talking melded away into one of perfect formality and intelligence you quickly forgot he had. It was almost devious of him to have charmed your mother as soon as he did despite his rather inappropriate getup — he refused to cover up.

Faster than you would have liked, the setting sun began to turn scarlet red and royal purple against the sky, and you watched one of the nine apparent Hashira walking away, his body disappearing in the crowds of people that were moving about in the town. But, he was taller than most of them, and with that head of white hair, you watched him leave until you could no longer.

“Come back again, please, Shinazugawa-san?” you had asked right before he left, your heart hammering in your chest.

He looked at you, unsure, a million emotions flashing through his clouded eyes. Ignoring the way your family and friends were watching you through the obvious crack in the door, you looked at Sanemi, who rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see.”

That was good enough for you.

Better yet, the asteroid shower returned that night, and as you took it in with a star dazed smile, you thanked Sanemi, wherever he was.

It seemed to become some sort of ritual for both of you.

Sanemi showing up, both of you talking in the courtyard of your home for a few minutes. Some days he showed up with enough time to eat dinner with your family, who were intrigued to know who he was. Some days your friends refused to leave your side, so Sanemi would as calmly as he could interact with them. Turns out a few of them reminded him of his own friends, and a sense of kinship formed between them all.

But as the sunset and you wished him well and luck, you always asked for him to return.

Sanemi would always respond with uncertainty. But the next day, he was there.

Some days he had more bandages on his body; some days, he looked straight up sick. There were scary days where he wouldn’t appear at all, and he’d be back in two days apologizing. He had come across a few Lower Moons and was hospitalized then had a meeting, he would explain. There were some days he’d let you grab his hand as he explained that he wouldn’t be back for a few days; there was a meeting in Headquarters, and it took a day to get to and a day to return from. Three days have gone from his usual postings, so he would have to spend an additional four days heavily working to make up for his disappearance.

“Fuckers aren’t as strong as they should be anymore,” Sanemi gruffed as you rested your head against his shoulder, his softly resting against yours. “Idiot trainers letting them take the test without their breathing techniques being strong.”

You laughed your finger, raising and pressing against his proud scar on his chest. It had been a year since you had first met him at that point, and now at seventeen, you knew he was proud of his scars, showing them off like the farmers showed off their prized crops, how senseis and masters showed off their awards.

“They can’t even fucking use the Water Breathing techniques correctly,” he spoke angrily, almost bitterly. “That’s the easiest breathing to learn! They had no fucking skill; they don’t use the breathes they should be using!”

“Mm,” you agreed, not really invested in their strengths or if the trainers were blind fucking bats, and your hand rested on his chest. His heartbeat under your fingertips, and you looked at his dark purple eyes. Despite the weird angle, his eyes were beating with the slightest bit of anger. “They sound like the worst.”

You had never known Sanemi to freeze up or startle, but you saw the way his eyes dropped to your lips, the way they drank them in, but he pulled away. His heartbeat suddenly frantic as he stood.

“It’s getting late; I gotta go if I’m going to make the town thirteen kilometers from here,” he grumbled, strapping his katana to his waist and standing up. You quietly followed after Sanemi, listening to him talk about how there was a case this morning but that the supposed demon was an actual cannibal.

As the two of you passed to the front gate, the warm smell of cracked dirt and sweet weeds filled the air. The sun was still high in the sky, just enough for your practically superpowered friend, not a friend, to make it to his suspected town just as the sunset.

He turned to you, falling quiet, obviously waiting for your typical farewell. But, you were trying something new tonight, and maybe from here on out. Sanemi watched with wide eyes as you stepped before him, your lips pressing sweetly against his battle-hardened skin, just kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Stay safe,” you grinned, pulling away, finding the pink in his cheeks and ears as a sign of victory. And as you made your way back into the doors of your home, Sanemi’s hands grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you near once again.

“I didn’t know you were a fucking Water User,” he snaps, and before you could smoothly input, you were not a Breathe user on account of your very serious childhood asthma, his lips pressed against yours, and it suddenly made sense.

The sky during the day was, for the most part, repetitive and boring. But when Sanemi pulled away from you, your lips humming with electricity and pumping blood from your excitement, the backdrop of the sky on the man who held your heart could outmatch even the asteroid shower you had seen.

“Come back again, please, Sanemi?” you slowly spoke, the smile on your face ear-splitting and pure.

“Fuck off!” Sanemi flushed bright red, and he turned on his heel and stormed away.

He listened to your bell-like laughter as he rounded the corner. Well, until he seemingly reappeared before you again, his hands pressing to your cheeks and kissing the laughter from your throat before he pulled away. His voice was gruff, and his body language screamed he was doing everything not to look away from you right now, “I’ll see.”

And it was good, so very, very good.

By the time you were eighteen, you had moved in with Sanemi.

Despite the lack of a formal proposal, how both of you agreed not to marry yet, your parents allowed you to move in with Sanemi. They knew the reason why both of you had decided not to wed and accepted it as long as Sanemi took all responsibility for what would happen to him should anything happen to you.

You still remember Sanemi showing up in the only kimono he owned. It was a bit — okay, try way — too tight against his arms and chest. His katana or usual uniform nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been expecting this to happen; the two of you had discussed this future together plentifully. But seeing him on his knees, a bow that was so low, respectful, and formal, had sent your skin simmering with blazing heat as Sanemi asked to officially court you and if he could also bring you home with him.

Tears welled in your eyes at his beautifully spoken request, and your parents, who may or may not have interrupted a handful of too many gentle, sweet, full kisses between you and Sanemi in the gardens of your home, had expected it.

That sunset, you had watched Sanemi pull his katana and uniform from underneath a tatami mat in your room, and you screeched about how he had hidden it there. He didn’t bother responding as he changed into his needed uniform, and you had politely looked away while he changed. You may or may not have caught sight of his muscled, toned, and scarred legs, though, and you may or may not have thought about it for every second after he had left.

He kissed you wholly before he left that night, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone just softly enough to make you putty in his hands.

“I’ll be back in the morning to help you move in,” he promised, and you nodded your head impatiently, your lips seeking his again.

As promised, Sanemi showed up the following morning, and with the help of the wagon your parents owned, all of your items were carefully exported to Sanemi’s home. A home that was way more than you had imagined. Your fiancé, not quite a fiancé, was always clean, he never showed up covered in dirt or blood, so while you weren’t necessarily expecting him to live in a crate at the side of the road, you were also expecting that from him.

It was a large home with a large courtyard, garden, and training spaces. Sanemi had easily carried your trunks into your (Sanemi and your’s) room, and you had hugged your parents tightly before they left. Their smiles drowned out into the bright sunlight as they went.

The adjustment to living with Sanemi wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be. For sure, the most challenging thing was getting your body accustomed to being awake during the night so that you could sleep with him and then spend his waking hours with him. It was perfect, blissful, and wonderful. You’d spend sundown to sunrise doing chores and doing drills with a wooden sword and dummy — Sanemi was teaching you how to handle a katana in case he wasn’t around. You’d write down lists of what you would need when he came home. Thirty minutes after sunrise, nearly without fail, Sanemi would stumble into the house, calling out his greeting.

You helped him bathe the night's blood and grime away, and with gentle hands and coaxing words, dragged him to sleep. At three in the afternoon, both of you would wake, and the day would begin with a sweet kiss good morning. Both of you would go and finish the day's errands, the vendors soon becoming familiar with your face and person. It was a great community, and everyone seemed to hold Sanemi in high regard.

But your relationship changed yet again when Sanemi slammed through the doors one day after sunrise. His eyes were wide, faint pink, already healed over scars risen on his skin as you came to the front door to see your husband, not a husband, discarding his shoes on the floor.

“What’s going on?!” you asked, partially because you were scared and partly because you were slightly exhausted and ready to drag him into bed with you. But it seemed that Sanemi had that same exact mindset, but with a whole other meaning.

The kiss he pressed on your lips was blistering hot; you arched against the intensity of his kiss, your fingers touching the dirt of his face and feeling the heat of his skin.

“I need you,” he simply stated, over and over, his words coiling and festering under your skin until you could do nothing but let out a shaking moan. Exhaustion had burned out of your bloodstream, and a gentle, building warmth sank through your loins as slowly you agreed.

I need you,” you repeat as the sliding doors close behind your shifting bodies, the both of you losing yourselves to the heat and the passions of the early morning lust.

It had been approximately a year since you and Sanemi began to indulge in your shared sexual desires. Your relationship was deep, it was full, and as everything human, had its flaws. There were mornings where he would come home and needed to sleep in a separate room, evenings when he would leave, and his words would be cold and haunting. His life up until now had been a hard one, and you were no fool to believe that your presence would make him forget that.

But in spite of it all, you were always happy when Sanemi would pull off of you, the streams of golden morning light whisping into the room, your body aching with the intensive pleasurable waves as the both of you would ease into sleep. It was perfect, you thought so, at least.

Sanemi, however, always claimed that you were a sight to be seen when he was bottomed out in you. His words were sweet in your ears as his lips brushed your skin, his praises were endless, but even when the drunken hue of the passions of the early morning faded, he swore you were a sight to be taken in at its full glory. Through every praise, every small moment where he would kiss you afterward as the smell of sex and dewy grass wafted into the room, Sanemi wanted you to see how beautiful you were when he fucked you.

You had no idea how that was to work; there was nothing that gave off a good enough reflection. But one late spring day, your eyes at the table you were using, carefully shuffling the funds Sanemi had acquired and placed them out accordingly, the front door was thrown open.

“I’m home,” Sanemi grunted from the first room in the home, and you strained your ears, not hearing the door shut behind him.

“Welcome home!” eventually came your response, your body pressing up from the floor, fingers smoothing down your purple kimono before walking to where Sanemi stood.

By the time you entered the room, Sanemi had already closed the door. But you were less focused on the time interval it took him to enter the home and more interested in the large, covered, and almost ominous rectangular object resting on the wall.

“Whatcha got there?” you asked, head tilting in your curiosity, eyes focused on the large rectangle.

“The obaa-san gave me free smoked salmon because she heard that apparently, we’re trying for a kid. She said eating salmon before having sex will guarantee a strong male heir. So I figured we could make some nigiri,” Sanemi stated, purposefully ignoring your question if the way his lips pulled into a sardonic smile had anything to say about it.

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh, your hand smacking his shoulder only for him to thread his fingers in yours and pull you in for a sweet kiss. You hummed against his soft lips, your fingers running through his hair until the entire sentence he just told you sparked back into your memory. You tugged the ends of his hair just sharp enough for him to grunt in the back of his throat. “Idiot, don’t let them think we’re trying for a kid just yet.”

Sanemi snorts, pulling away from the kiss, “Maybe you should stop talking about your cravings in public — especially with that gossiping vendor.”

“Period cravings are a thing!”

“Yah yah,” Sanemi grunted, his hand waving you off as he gathered his rectangle thing and started making his way off with it. It was enormous though, you noticed as he carried it. It was longer than both of your heights, and if you were to stand at his shoulder, it seemed like it could still be wider than the both of you. “Stop breathing down my neck, weirdo.”

“You’re the one not telling me what that is!” you complain, following Sanemi with enough distance that you weren’t stepping on his heels. “Come on, ‘nemi, tell me what it is?”

“What do you think it is?”

“I hope it isn’t Mitsuri-chan’s present from Iguro-san,” you grumbled, knowing that last Christmas, you had to keep Mitsuri’s present hidden from the lovely Love Breathe wielder. “I can’t handle him showing up in the middle of the day, demanding to see it again. Why didn’t his own home work?”

“Kanroji shows up occasionally, and he only brings her into the best rooms depending on the day,” Sanemi grunted, resting the rectangle onto the wall by your tatami mats. “He won’t confess; she’s dumber than a rock, it’s all annoying. But he’s still… a friend.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally admitting to being friends with your fellow Hashira!” you chirped, your arms circling his neck, your grin complete and authentic as Sanemi looked at you unimpressed, his lips in a pout, not a pout, but a pout. You had the privilege of meeting all the Hashira Christmas morning, and they were all lovely people you got along with quite well. “Now, are you and Tomi—”

“That water bastard can choke on my foot and die!” Sanemi snapped, his face fuming, eyebrows narrowing, but his warm arms remaining relaxed and warm around your waist. “I’ll kill him and his stupid ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality.”

“And you don’t get along with someone like that?” you feign surprise, utterly delighted with the way his eyes sparkled dangerously at you. And well, you didn’t ever hesitate to take a bite out of Sanemi. “Guess there’s only enough room for an ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality even in the Hashira, and if it isn’t you… oops.”

Sanemi choked, and you laughed loudly, face nuzzling into his stiff neck as he attempted to escape from your stubborn hold.

“You’re a real jerk,” Sanemi said as monotonously, allowing his much stronger body to be bent down as your lips peppered against his skin and eventually on his relaxed lips that didn’t bother returning your kisses.

“Kiss me back,” you whined, your lips pressing with a more significant, more profound fervor against his mouth.

“No.”

“I’m sorry!” you giggled with no actual apologies in your tone, enjoying the way that Sanemi’s lips slowly began to press back against yours. “Tomioka-san is obviously not the holder of the ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality title!”

“You damn brat,” Sanemi growled, his fingers pinching and pulling at your cheeks, paying no mind to your cries of mercy. “To think that I bought this for you too!”

“You haven’t even shown it to me yet!” you complain, unable to pout on account to his fingers, still pulling your cheeks apart. “You left me in the dark!”

Sanemi grunted, letting go of your cheeks, his purple eyes darkening and narrowing as he slammed a hand over your eyes and twisted you around in a swift movement. You resisted the small gasp hanging at the tip of your tongue when you felt his broad chest pressing into your back, and he moved forward, commanding you to move without a word.

“Is this when you confess you’ve been a demon this entire time and trap my soul into Hell with all your other sexy wives?”

“Would you shut up?!”

Sanemi’s hand tore away from your eyes, and even though you were ready to argue with him just to hear the flaring annoyance on his tongue, you stilled when you saw your reflection perfectly. This had to be a mirror, an invention made in the west a few years ago, and finally, it was here. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that you were smaller than Sanemi, but the mirror made that difference alarmingly apparent.

“I told you I wanted you to be able to look at yourself as I fucked you,” Sanemi whispered against your neck, breaking your attention away from its transfixion on the precise observation you finally had on yourself. “Turns out Tokyo got some imported, and I had to go get one myself.”

“Sanemi,” you whimpered, the canines of his teeth dragging against the tender flesh of your neck that was exposed from your kimono. Your eyes took in the sight of how his eyes stared at your face through the mirror's reflection, they were dark, murkier like this, and when his teeth slowly sank into your flesh, a ripple of pleasure and pain bubbling against your skin, you moaned.

“Look at yourself,” Sanemi purred, his arms circling around your waist, and you felt him slowly beginning to undo the fastenings and fabrics of your kimono. “I need you to understand just how crazy you make me feel when I touch you, when I fuck you.”

The words were hot cinders in your lower stomach, festering and twisting in its warmth as his words buzzed in your ears. Your eyes dragged over to your reflection, and you could feel the beginning steam come out of your ears at the sight of yourself. Your eyes were lidded, perfectly hooded to give off the obvious desire that was growing in your body, your lips swelling with how your teeth tore into them, stopping the small moans that went unheard, and the flush that radiated off your features and glowed in your eyes.

It was a sight that you had never expected to see, and the pure unadulterated lust radiating off your features embarrassed you. The embarrassment only seemed to grow more as the kimono slipped from your shoulder, exposing more of your tender flesh for Sanemi’s mouth and teeth to mark, and your head dipped backward at the lewd scene.

“Look at you, angel,” Sanemi smirked against your skin, his eyes glinting dangerously even though the reflection as you weakly, just barely managed to return your gaze onto your review. You looked even more wrecked as the kimono dropped to the floor, the white undergarments you wore making you look saintly in the reflection and warm light of the streaming sun. “So beautiful, so perfect, and all mine.”

Your fingers fisted into the pants of his uniform. Your knees feeling weak with the possessiveness that came with his words. Unsure as to what to do, all the embarrassment and shamelessness in the world dancing like falling leaves as you pondered what you could do. Usually, you would move with him against him. You didn’t exactly fall into a pillow princess category, but feeling the intensity of his gaze through a mirror, and the way that your body behaved exactly as he had always claimed it had, made your head spin.

You gasped loudly when his hips rutted slowly against your ass, his scarred hands continuing to undress you more, each fabric of clothing that separated your naked body from the mirror disappearing until you were completely nude. And you mewled.

“Look at yourself, angel,” Sanemi laughed against the shell of your ear, his head now against yours, keeping you from even attempting to look away. His large, rough hands glided across your much softer skinned body, watching as his fingers rolled your nipples between his fingers, massaging your tender flesh in his hands.

You saw the way your head dipped backward as you moaned, your eyes fluttering as you did so. Undoubtedly, both of you painted an erotic scene, but it was something you hadn’t ever expected to be confirmed. “You look so beautiful moaning against my touch; I wonder if you’ll like the way your face scrunches up when I fuck your pretty little pussy, or even when I touch it.”

Slight fear shot through your nerves as suddenly, Sanemi dropped to the floor, taking you with him. No pain went through your body as he made impact with the floor. You figured out why immediately, your ass was against his hard crotch, his clothed outer thighs pressing against your naked inner thighs, and you made sight with the mirror and keened at the picture of your spread slick pussy.

Sanemi shifted behind you, and although you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from how your cunt glistened in the light, you shook when you saw his bare arms, felt his bare chest against your back.

“You drive me utterly fucking insane,” Sanemi growled hotly against your ear, crotch grinding up into your ass, and you pathetically looked at your flushed face as you ground back downwards onto him in return. A slow groaned out moan resonated from his mouth, and you shivered and gasped at the noise, your cunt clenching at nothing as Sanemi positioned your arms as he wanted them to be. Clutched into his hair, absolutely revealing your naked body to the mirror, denying you no salacious angle of your body. “I want you to watch me make you feel good, angel. Don’t look away, promise?”

“I p-promise,” you stammer, the slight glint of his eye that you can still see, making your toes curl.

And he began.

Sanemi’s finger slowly traced down your knees, the heat from his flesh nearly burning as you tremble in his hold. Your instincts fight whether to look at him from the mirror or normally.

You keep your eyes onto the mirror. “Good job, you’re doing such a good job,” Sanemi voices, his fingers becoming feather-soft strokes against the inside of your legs that make you arch against his chest. a sharp inhale was what he was rewarded with as his fingers make small circles centimeters from where you crave him most. “I haven’t seen you react this intensely in so long. Is it because you’re watching your pretty face enjoy the praise?”

Unsure what to say, your head nods rapidly, your tongue falling dead in your mouth when his left-hand drags up your abdomen, scratching the underneath of your breasts until you can shake no more. “SANEMI!” you shriek, unable to take the teasing touches and watching your embarrassingly turned on face anymore. “SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING, PLEASE!”

“Aw, you cracked so fast,” he chuckles against your ear, and you melt into a euphoric victory when his thick, rough fingers plunge into your cunt.

Immediately, your hips snap up to greet him, your body shifting in quick, fast snaps as you watch your soaked cunt fuck against his fingers, desperately, greedily taking him in more and more. The sight of his fingers disappearing into your cunt through the mirror, the way your teeth tore into your lips to keep your singing praises at a minimum, and how you could feel and swear you could see the heat pounding from your body take shape through the mirror.

You had never felt this tight yet undone. Your lust hazed eyes shifting from your almost too lewd facial expressions to the way Sanemi jaw flexed with his growled endless praises, to how your cunt greedily sucked him in, further and further until the pounding of your heart couldn’t even drown out the wet, squelching of your cunt.

“Fuck!” Sanemi cursed, his hips grinding further, harder into your ass, and you keened at the massive hard length that poked into your back. “Look at you, you’re so fucking hot, angel. So needy, so fucking greedy for everything that I’m giving you.”

“I want m-more!” you sob, your body hyper-aware of how fast his curled fingers were pounding into you. You craved the way his battle-scarred fingers dragged against your puffy inner walls, hips bucking so his fingers would drag against the spongy divots, sending your mind spiraling and your jaw falling in your wordless beg for more. You understood why Sanemi craved you like this, why he insisted you needed to see the way you looked when he fucked you because as the hand that was kneading and pulling on your breasts and nipples shot down to make sure your trembling thighs didn’t smash together in your building climax. How he continued to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses against your neck, you were a perverts fantasy. “M-More ‘nemi, please give me more!” you practically wailed.

“You gonna cum around my fingers, angel?”

“I needa cum, I wanna cum!”

“I want you to cum around my fingers, look at yourself for me when you do,” Sanemi commanded, and you, in your lust-driven mindset, agreed. Your eyes were looking on your lewd face, and everything crumbled when the growing clenches of your cunt became a tight vice grip.

But the heated pressure between your legs had been festering for too long, the included visuals that sent your brain into putty had you cumming around his fingers, your hips bucking wildly, barbarically against his still conquesting fingers. “Yes, yes yesyesyeysyes, that was so good… your fingers are so good,” you babbled, your eyes crossing, unable to look at yourself anymore. The elation of the orgasm flooding your mind and muscles. But you hadn’t been fucking the man who could pound you for multiple rounds without tiring without picking up a thing or two.

Twisting around your lips that were swollen from your biting and smooth with your saliva crashed against his. Sanemi didn’t resist your kiss, his lips crashing and moving without any hesitation against yours. You moaned when his fingers left your heat, and you slipped your tongue into his mouth as you ground your ass against his still throbbing hard-on. “I want your cock still, ‘nemi. I want you to fuck me with your cock, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay!” Sanemi snarled, and his thighs slammed shut.

You crawled off his lap, watching as the slick stained spot on his uniform glistened in the light. Frowning, not wanting to disturb him, you couldn't help but lick against the wet area, voice moaning deeply at the musky, sweet scent of your slick against the fabric.

“Y/n!” Sanemi weakly got out, his hips instinctively bucking towards your lapping tongue.

You worked with him to get his uniform off his hips, your body not waiting for him to undress entirely before your mouth enveloped his thick veiny cock. The salty pre-cum invaded your senses, your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock before your mouth took in his swollen red head. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked his cockhead, your tongue swiping and moving at his leaking slit as Sanemi cursed the heavens for you, his hands grabbing onto your head and pulling you off him right when that shivering twitch of his cock pressed to your tongue.

Gasping, you looked at Sanemi’s nearly black eyes, disappointment heavy on your features.

“‘Nemi—” you pout, but Sanemi doesn’t let you finish.

You’re back almost straddling his waist, your back flush against his chest. He holds a strong, sturdy hand against your waist, keeping your waiting, wet cunt from lowering onto his hard cock. Your feet on the mats feel weak as you try to hold your weight above him, but when his teeth sink into the back of your neck, a spot that makes your body collapse without reason, you garble a scream when his cock sheathes completely within you.

Heavy, hot pants escape both of your mouths as you’re completely seated on his cock, the nearly inhumane girth of his cock making you dizzy at the surprise entrance. But you were much, much more fascinated with the way your pretty little pussy was stretched out so wide for his cock. He was buried in you, and even though it didn’t hurt to have him in you. The reflection showed how your lips pulled and stretched to fit him in, the small bulge of his cock in you was seen, and you cried in ecstasy.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” you begged, hips long gone from obeying any command Sanemi could try to give you as you fucked yourself against his length. “God, your cock is so good, ‘nemi! You look so good filling out my pretty fucking pussy!”

That is what makes Sanemi lose it, his hands that rest on your hips tightening with a bruising grip as he begins slamming into you. The wet noises of his cock entering and exiting of your sloppy, wet cunt at an even faster speed in which you were fucking him make your nails dig into his thighs, your eyes crossing, breathes hot and heavy.

Twisting, curling pleasure thrums deep within your womb, tightening and warming with each successive thrust that sends Sanemi’s cock rubbing against your inner velvet walls. You cry his name, eyes dazed and dripping with want and need as you watch the slicked shine of his cock pounding into your without mercy.

“You’re so fucking tight like this, angel, so fucking hot. You like the way you look like when I fuck you, huh, look at how godly you appear,” he snaps, his arms hugging your hips, his thrusting becoming short, deep, fierce snaps.

You can’t look at yourself anymore, the heat of the sex and the electric pleasure that rides with every lick of his cock against your cervix, sending your hot, wet lips in search of his. Sanemi meets you halfway, open mouth moans and groans being exchanged between your open mouths as your tongues intermixed and pressed sinfully against each other. The noises that leave your wet sexes only fuel the raging fire in your cunt that has reignited to a hire flame than before.

“Cum in me,” you find yourself begging against his lips. “Please cum in me, don’t pull out, ‘nemi, please don’t pull out.”

“Fuck, fuck, you sure?” Sanemi grunted, his body heaving you both forward so that you were on your knees, and he was absolutely wrecking you from behind.

“Yes!” you affirm over and over again. your mind high off of him and how you looked in the mirror. “I want you in me, all of you in me!”

He let out a guttural whine, a sound that had you shaking beneath him and screaming when the coil in your cunt finally snapped.

Another orgasm crashed through you, and your spinning high echoed in your ears and curled your toes as you whimpered Sanemi’s name. With the sound of his hips slapping against your ass, and with his teeth burying into the nape of your neck, you felt the hot, liquid ropes burst from his cock, filling you up. The both of you remained there, panting as your sweat and slick covered bodies collapsed to the floor.

“So…” he gasped, collapsing onto the mat beside you, pulling you into his chest so that you could rest against his scarred chest. “Did you like the mirror?”

“...I guess,” you antagonize, grinning when he frowns. “It was hot; you make me look hot.”

Sanemi snorted, his lips pressing to your sweat-covered forehead.

“I don’t do shit; that’s how you are.”

You chuckled, warm grogginess settling under your skin as you merely hum in agreement.

“The Hashira meeting is tomorrow, so I’ll be gone for two days,” Sanemi murmurs, reminding you of the dreaded two days alone. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten; you never do.

“Think anything interesting will happen?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, hopefully.”

You giggle, snuggling in closer to his chest. Yeah, hopefully.

#sanemi x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kny #kny x reader #bbs kinktober 2020

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Wilfords Demands: Mutual Understanding

Summary- 5.6k Curtis Everett x You. You are being driven mad after the shot you were given to send your hormones raging. Curtis knows he has to help you. Afterwards a peace settles between you two and the situation you have both been forced into. All seems fine till Wilford collects you to let you in on his plans for you. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Non Con/Dub Con, sex pollen theme, darkish story line, mentions of scars, mentions of punishment/torture.

This is an 18+ Blog. If you are not 18+, this story is not for you.

Chapter 3 / Wilford’s Demand’s Masterlist

This was the first time you have ever reached for Curtis and your mouth crashing into his, your body heatedly pushing into his like you wanted every inch of him sent him reeling for a moment. Of course he knew it was because of the medicine they had given you, but part of him didn't care. You were being receptive, wanting what he could give you, and it was a damn gift. For once he didn't have to feel like it was a job trying to make this whole thing easier for you, feeling some guilt in the pit of his stomach as he worked on making you open up to him and at least enjoy some of his touches.

His head tilted to explore your mouth, a mix of the water staining your lips and just making you that much sweeter as you kissed him back, eagerly. Even your hands couldn't stop, tracing his muscled body, digging in your fingers to hold onto him while you rubbed your body so raw into him. Pulling back, your eyes pleaded up at him. “Curtis, I really need you to touch me. Please, please fuck me.” You whined at him, and he nudged your legs apart with a knee.

“Tell me pretty girl, where do you want me to touch you?” Fingers skimmed over your quivering belly and back up with light touches, driving you even more crazy he could tell. Your eyes watered as you grasped his wrist and pushed it between your thighs.

His fingers slicked between your folds, drenched between your need and the water streaming over you, the water that was supposed to cool you off from your fever. But it was doing no such thing. Curtis’s fingers though started to stroke and rub your core, pressing circles harshly against your clit and teasing you till you dug into his wrist in agitation. He clicked his tongue against his teeth feeling your impatience and used his other hand that had been braced against the shower wall to grab your hand and pull it away. “Hands above you now Darling. I wont ask again.”

You were quick to raise them above your head, easily encased within his grasp to make sure they stayed there when he thrusted fingers into you. Your eyes rolled up as you clenched your thighs around his pumping hand, nodding for more. “Curtis, what is happening to me.” Your voice was a bit fearful and he twisted his hand easily so that he could brush his fingertips against the spongy spot deep inside you, making your knees buckle in surprise. But his hold on your wrists was tight, not allowing you to fall.

“They gave you a shot you said? It triggers your hormones, making you horny as fuck and needing to get off.” He said, his tone softening knowing that as good as it felt now that he was bringing you closer to your orgasm, even this was out of your control. “It will wear off, they have used it on me before.” Curtis recalled and you arched for more, quivering as your cunt tightened around his fingers, a flood of arousal coating his fingers and he stroked faster, trying to make you come for him. “Come on baby, just let it happen and you can take a breather till it starts again.”

Tears pricked your eye as you buried your head in his shoulder, shaking harder and hiking your leg against his hip so that he had plenty of room to keep finger fucking you till it snapped in your belly and you sagged into him. Thankfully he was like a solid wall, letting his hold loosen so he could keep you upright. “It's okay, I got you sweetheart, just breath for a moment.”

You inhaled deeply, your arms wrapped over his shoulders and you weren’t tired, but shook at the impact it had on you. The fire stroked your spine again and a heaviness started in your limbs that made you sob into his shoulder. “It’s happening again.” Curtis pushed you back to a stand, and his hands rubbed up your arms, over your shoulders and cupped your face.

“Hands on my shoulders or head, okay?” Cerulean blues burned demanding into yours and you nodded that you understood him. You swore your heart was about to burst through your rib cage as it started to turn worse than before. Twisting your face into his palms, you dragged out

“I understand Curtis.”

Curtis breathed out as it was happening so fast. He could already see you curling your toes to try and remain in control, your hands immediately grasping his trapezius muscles and digging in firmly. “Good Girl.” He praised and grinned a bit seeing a trusting smile tug at the corners of your mouth. He sunk down before you, pressing his face against the softness of your belly, his hands sliding up and down your hips and along the back of your thighs. Now you arched to your tip toes to bring him closer to the aching spot between your legs. He licked the water from your skin, taking in your scent of arousal for a moment.

He tugged lightly the hair on your mound, knowing it would catch your attention. “Lift a leg to go over my shoulder.” Your hands moved from his shoulders to the top of his head to maintain balance, easing one leg to rest over the muscles, and he could see you now, admire just how you spread open for him, hot warmth that was so greedy for him, your smell was just intoxicating. He knew you would taste better, especially with how turned on you were. This orgasm he wanted you to come all over his face. Now was the chance for Curtis to also actually find out what you enjoyed.

You were always so closed off that it was hard to tell what you actually enjoyed, until you were crazy with lust and came undone. But that wasn't how he worked. Curtis wanted you to at least enjoy some of what was happening. He knew he was for the most part. Dragging his nose through the tight curls covering your mound and inhaling deeply, he glanced up at you, who looked down at him dazed.

“You still with me Sweetheart?” He asked and you hummed, rocking your hips to look for him with a nod.

“Barely… it's like a fire burning me from the inside Curtis.”

Not wasting anymore time, he placed a harsh kiss to your inner thigh before turning to your cunt, his tongue striking you with precision. You couldn't grasp his hair, but you scratch his scalp before wrapping your hands around the back of his head.

Curtis pushed a hand against your thigh, opening you up and he took quick laps at the arousal seeping from you, groaning against your sensitive cunt at how good your arousal tasted flowing so freely on his tongue. Next he teased your clit, that little bundle of nerves extra sensitive and you arched to your tiptoes before sinking back onto his face to grind against him.

It was maddening, you wanted to pull away while pressing him in closer. The scratch of his chin was making you whimper and moan, and when his tongue filled you, now that was pure heated bliss spearing you and making you push against his hand to try and close around him.

For Curtis, eating a woman out was a work of art. There were moves he had to make to get those moans and mewls working from someone, and he was going at it with this mind driven purpose alone. They started out weak at first, barely could hear them around the water rushing down the drain. But a drag of tongue from your clenching channel to slurp up to your clit that he sucked on made you shake and moan so loudly that he doubled down on his effort, making you gush on his face.

It turned messy, shaking his face in your cunt and teasing over and over. Curtis added his fingers to take over when he wasn't fucking you with his tongue, and you melted. Turning boneless as your orgasm wracked you again with a wail. “Curtis! Fuck I cant anymore, you got to-” You went voiceless a moment, gasping as he speared you again and his hand pressed against your stomach to keep you still. Thighs quivering and you pressed against his forehead to drag him away, gasping back out to finish your sentence. “Please, no more. I need you inside of me because that is too much.”

Easing your leg off his shoulder, he grasped your hips while moving to a quick stand. You tugged at him to your mouth, your lips lapping over his to fill his mouth this time and gather your own taste to fill your senses. Curtis’s fingers dug into your thighs to lift you and circle your legs around his slim waist while he filled you suddenly, not even giving a moment for you to adjust to his size. Heavy thrusts bounced your hips into the tiles of the shower wall. Your pulled at his mouth, panting against him and moaning hungrily while bouncing back and forth between Curtis and the wall.

“Yes, Fuck- oh god- so good, just what I needed. Harder Curtis.”

It was like he was unleashed on you, verging on the edge of pain at how full he was stuffing you, your nails digging down his straining back, and the ice the water turned into now stung just adding to the sensation of how rough it was between you two.

Fingers dug in hard enough to squeeze into your bones, another orgasm ripping through you, but this time Curtis didn't stop. Rag dolling your body till he pulled himself out, twisting you into the glass of the door, your face twisted to the side harshly pressed flat, your hands scrambling for a purchase as his hand smacked against your ass with a sting till he yanked your hips out and spread legged to claim you all over again.

He hissed against your ear when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed slightly that made you try to inhale all the air you could into your lungs as he slammed himself into you, crushing you to the door. “Come on Pretty Girl… I can feel you got more in you.” Another slam that you swore you felt in your gut and you twisted to catch his mouth, biting his lip till he took over, your body small compared to his, and the fire eating you alive consuming you. He kept the flames licking your body as well as kept you from burning alive.

It was all consuming and when he forced that next brutal orgasm from you, you edged on blackness till you slipped out of consciousness.

You never felt Curtis catch you when you started to fall in the shower, how he flooded you with his spend after you passed out or the slow way he pulled from you, limp in his arms. He rinsed you off quickly and toweled dry you off before carrying you to the bed where he laid you down. His hands smoothed along your body, still chilled from the cold water, but the fever the shot had caused appeared to be gone. Nor did you feel him grab your book and dip into the bed to lay next to you, reading till it grew late, and he ended up nodding off himself.

What you did notice was how your face was tucked against his stomach where you had slid down the bed in your sleep, your leg hooked through his. A first for you, you usually hugged the cold wall as much as he would allow you to. The gentle rise and fall of his abs let you know he was asleep when you lifted your head, and pushed up gently to sit. He never stirred, the book he had been reading had fallen against his chest and his head tilted back to give a gentle snore once in a while. You scooted up closer and eased the book off him, glancing at the cover and shocked to see that he was reading the same book you were, your bookmark still in place where you left off. He actually wasn't far off, and it made you wonder how long he had been reading it when you weren't aware.

The idea of it shocked you, you always saw Curtis as a brute individual, but you glanced at his bookshelf nearby littered with random stories and biographies, maybe he was more then you had allowed yourself to notice.

A glance at the windows behind you showed that night had fallen, nothing but pitch black outside and the little lamp Curtis had on the table was the light that illuminated the small room they shared. You were careful to lean over Curtis and ease the book on the nearby table before settling back. Hands pressed to your face and down your naked body, you sighed in relief that the medicine seemed to have dispersed and you were no longer under its effects.

Next you pulled the sheet up a bit to cover your body, looking at Curtis still sound asleep. You didn't dare try to ease over him to get dressed, that would wake him. After taking you in the shower, you couldn't deny that he had helped you through it, you didn't want to wake him just yet. Instead, now that you weren't feeling his piercing gaze, you allowed yourself to really admire him.

You have seen him naked plenty of times, the spanse of his chest blocking your view of anything else as he loomed over you fucking you into the mattress. But you never saw him, not like this.

Your eyes drifted down hard planes of his chest, littered with dark hair that tapered to a line down firm abs. In his sleep they weren't as defined as when he was awake and tense, but you could still see the outline of muscle he had gained in his workouts. You knew he left to do training, but even here he was often doing something when he wasn't paying attention to you. That line of hair dipped below the sheet, following a thick vein below his lower stomach that you knew led to his cock. Your eyes narrowed at the tiny puckered scars littered up and down his torso, and even around the side of his ribs. Those you never noticed before, since they were so faded. But one stood out on the inside of his left forearm. Round and shiny, the size of a half dollar.

You hadn't realized Curtis woke up and was watching you study him till you felt a tingle of nerves and you lifted your head, easing back with a soft “Sorry, I was…” You drifted off with your excuse and Curtis half pushed up to lean against the wall the beds head was at, tilting his head and shaking his head.

“You don't have to be sorry Y/N, we are going to be together for a long time. I hope you liked some of what you saw.” He gave a bit of an easy lopsided grin and you peeked at him from under your lashes, relaxing a bit.

How little did he know how much less intimidating he was when he smiled.

“I did… You are… very handsome.” You struggled to find your words with this, but was loathe to fall back to the tense silence the two of you normally shared. “Thank you for earlier.” You tilted your head towards the bathroom. “I have never felt that before.”

He leaned forward to catch your chin in his forefinger and thumb, lifting your face a bit. “And you're a stunning woman Y/N. '' He let you go and settled back with a nod. “Of course. I know how miserable it is, I couldn't let you deal with that alone.”

You settled in a bit more, keeping the sheet tugged around you. “Can I ask you something Curtis?”

“Of course Y/N.” He wanted to reach for you and bring you in against him, but he wasn't going to push you right now. You were opening up and were not skittish around him.

“The scars… what happened? Are they chicken pox or something?” You knew diseases and illness would run rampant through the tail end all the time. Curtis glanced down at his chest, his hand sweeping up and down his chest a moment as his jaw clenched.

“Scars from a cattle prod.” He cleared his throat a bit but didn't stop his words even though you cringed a bit at the thought. “When Wilford first collected us, of course we resisted at first. They used cattle prods to control us. Son of a bitch stun. Then once we learned our place in the front, they got used less and less.”

You scooted closer, your hand resting on his arm where the shiny scar was so prominent, Curtis watched as your thumb traced around it, your gaze studying it a moment as his words sunk in. “Then we went into training for fighting. Every time we lost in the beginning, they used the prods on us again. The amount of time we lost by was how long they kept the prod on us. Condition us to keep getting up and going after each other till we basically just about killed one another.”

Your eyes moved over him again, seeing the little ones first but then the darker larger ones. All the times Curtis lost and had to pay the price.

“Then as they gathered more people, it changed. No longer were we punished because every fight became one to the bitter end.” His jaw clenched and he took your hand in his own. “I actually do have to talk to you about that.”

You wrinkled your nose, not wanting any more bad news. You held up a hand to pause him. “Maybe later Curtis? Can you tell me something from before?”

He looked confused at first and arched his brows. “Before what… before Snowpiercer?” And you nodded to confirm that. He seemed to think, it was obvious he hadn't really considered it before. “I will… but only if you come over here. You're still tired, I can see it in your face.” He lifted his arm and you were slow in moving, careful to keep the sheet around you. He never tried to remove it, but settled his arm around you. Fingers sliding up and down the softness of your shoulder and arm, he settled in to tell you about his childhood in the outskirts of Boston.

It was hours of you two sharing stories and the thoughts Curtis had before faded to the back of his mind, completely forgetting about having to tell you about the tournament. Fading into the next day, you both slept in late and Curtis let you take the first shower before taking one himself. He left the room while you were reading your book, and this time you didn't hear the door click with the lock. Easing up to a stand, you approached the door and barely opened it, but shut it just as quick. Not wanting anyone in the hallway to know that you were in here. Although you doubted that anyone would mess with you being you belonged to Curtis, you didn't want to take your chances. You seemed to be in Curtis’s good graces now and didn't want to upset that balance. Not to mention the man from New Years Day, Grey had scared you with his gaze when Curtis made you crawl away.

Shaking those memories off, you went back to the table, curling up in the chair to read when he returned with what smelled like breakfast. Lifting your nose in appreciation, he set a tray down on the table that was littered with different things that made your mouth water. “Is that… bacon?” You asked in surprise and Curtis laughed, sliding the plate that had several pieces on it towards you.

“Yes, a rare treat, but once in a while the kitchens fry some up. We get it a few times a year, so better enjoy it.”

You picked up the piece, crumbly and greasy between your fingers, you took a nip off the end of it, chewing it so slowly and sighing in happiness at the saltiness that hit your tongue. “God I forgot how good this was.” you nibbled a bit more while Curtis started peeling an orange, unable to hide the grin at how much you seemed to be enjoying it. The freshness of the orange made your nose wiggle and he pried it half apart, handing you half of the fruit which you started to peel the sections apart and alternated between bites of bacon and orange. You honestly didn't know which was better.

There were also bits of warm toasted bread smeared with butter, berries that were warm as if just fresh picked and even what resembled a watered oatmeal sweetened with honey. Curtis saw you picking at a bit of everything. “I figured you would be hungry after yesterday, so I just got a bit of everything this morning.”

He was right, you were famished and it was hard to limit yourself to half, but he kept encouraging you to have more and by the time you finished, you were so full. “I cant eat another bite.”

Curtis finished off the last bite of bread and moved to stand, picking up the now empty tray. You reached to pick up your book again, when he surprised you yet again.

“How about you come with me Y/N? We will drop this off to the kitchen and walk off some of this?”

You hesitated. The last time you left the room with him, it ended with a sore ass on your part. He waited silently for your answer though, and you eased up to a stand. “Okay.” He eased the door open and you stepped outside once more, taking a deep breath as you looked up and down the narrow hallway, unsure why it felt a bit dangerous. You have been escorted many times to the doctor appointments, but this has only been the second time you left with Curtis.

“This way.” He turned away from the section you had traveled to last time, your hand fisted in the back of his shirt to keep a hold of him, especially when you two had to pass through the narrow tunnel between cars. It seemed you two went through many sleeper cars. Door after door you two passed till he opened the next one, and it was lined with tables on one side, and in the back a large kitchen bustling with people preparing food. It smelled heavenly in there to you, catching whiffs of the bacon from earlier still heavy in the air, the sound of knives chopping against cutting boards and things sizzling on the stove. Your step faltered as you two went to drop the tray off, Curtis reaching behind him to tug you forward, his hand circled around your wrist and then kept gently at the small of your back. He led you closer so you could see into the kitchen through a wide window.

“Wow, the tail end would be in awe of this.” your fingers pressed to the glass as someone opened an oven and pulled out what looked to be an actual chocolate cake, testing it with a knife to be sure it was cooked through.

Curtis watched as well, none of it new to him but you seemed to be enjoying it, so he didn't push for the two of you to leave. Not quite yet anyways. The kitchen was still mostly empty and he wasn't in any rush to meet with Grey somewhere while you were out with him. “Most of this is for high class. As I said, the stuff we had today was a treat.”

You titled to look up at him. “We never got any of this… ever. I don't know if you had any, but we only get the blocks, protein blocks they are called.” Your eyes wandered back to the food just piling up in different sections, your thoughts going to how much your old friends would have enjoyed all this.

Curtis was quiet, he was taken away before the protein blocks were dispersed, but he remembered the desolate conditions. The things they almost resorted to until Wilford had him and a large group of young men removed. “I'm sure they are awful.”

You hummed softly that they were and Curtis eased you away, towards another door. “One last Car before we head back because I have training today.” He opened a door and you stepped into a blast of warm air and you grinned feeling the artificial sun on your face. You knew this car, it was an extension to the greenhouse that would be the next one. This one had sweet smelling trees blossoming in it, the fruit trees where the apples and oranges came from. Right now the citrus scent filled your senses and Curtis followed you down into a lane where a few people tended to the trees, high up in the branches going through the rip fruit and pruning the dead branches and leaves away to keep them healthy.

“Doesn't it smell good.” You mentioned as you brushed your hand against the bark, letting it scratch at your palm just for the sensation.”

Curtis took a deep breath to clear his lungs, and you were right. There was always a freshness in these cars that the rest of the train didn't have. The living breathing plants filtering the air over and over. It was almost as good as being outside once again. You two didn't say much, just soaked in the “sun” and wandered among the trees. But once more Curtis steered you back to the exit and the two of you returned to the sleeper car once more. You were left alone to occupy yourself while Curtis went to train.

A few weeks passed and things between the two of you continued to smooth out. A mutual understanding happened that day you needed him. He still cornered you in bed, plucking you out of your clothing and fucked you. But you didnt fight as much as before, his hands pining yours above your head as he filled you, sometimes slow steady strokes and other times it was like he was fucking the frustrations out on you from whatever happened in his trainings. You rarely asked, as typically those days you were met with grunts of ‘nothing’ while he laid there afterwards. Either way, he never left you unsatisfied, making sure you reached your pleasure before he allowed his own to take over.

The moments you learned to appreciate were the ones lying with him in silence, once in a while you would read to him afterwards from whatever book you were reading from, his fingers twirling patterns along your skin where he could reach until he made you put the book down and ask for something more personal. And just as he talked about his past, you soon started telling him about your life before Snowpiercer.

How your mother abandoned you with your sweet grandparents. Whom loved you very much, here you would choke up a bit talking about them. You missed them terribly and knew they sacrificed everything to get you on the train, even a life in the tail end was better to them then you freezing to death with them. Times when it got too hard, Curtis let you cry into the pillow, usually resulting in your passing out afterwards. This is when he would take his leave, go attend whatever business he had and bring back food for that evening.

You two fell into this routine that worked for both of you, but there would always come a day when it all was disrupted. That day the door barged open. You were in the middle of getting dressed, scurrying to tug a shirt on when Curtis stepped in front of you with a raised voice. “You know you have no right barging into my space.”

“I do when Wilford demands for your slut.” One shoved Curtis aside, you could see his hand hovering at his hip where a stick hung and his fingers snapped at the clasp and Curtis was about to push back when you stepped towards the other man.

“It's fine, it's okay… I will go with you.” You nodded, not wanting a fight.

Curtis turned away from the man having pushed him back. “No Y/N, it's not your scheduled time and they are supposed to let me know beforehand before taking you out of my care.”

“13 you dumb fuck, Wilford requested for her. What he says goes.” You were being pulled from the room when you saw the stick being pulled out of its holster, the zapping noise crackling at the end and the door slammed shut before you could see them use it on Curtis to subdue him.

“Come on girl…” You were yanked ahead, leaving behind the only safe place you now felt on the train. You swallowed your fear, as you had no idea why Wilford would want to see you of all people.

When they left Curtis, he spat out blood on the floor while pushing himself up. Once you left, the remaining people turned on him, making sure he didn't forget “his place”. Leaving him with a few burn marks on his chest and a good kick in his side and a bloody nose. Grabbing a rag to slow the flow down, he checked his door. But knew it would be locked. They didn't want him following after you. He paced the small space, feeling effectively caged in and helpless not being able to go for you. There was little that he could do then wait. Which he did. Yanking out a chair, long legs bounced up and down with a jiggle of his foot, his eyes plastered to the door, feeling like a ticking time bomb counting down.

You weren't brought to Wilford to begin with. Instead it was back to the doctor who did all the same checks he always did. This time when he had you take a test, after long minutes of waiting, he exclaimed. “Finally!”

You pushed to sit up, shaking your head in confusion. “Finally what?”

“13 finally impregnated you girl.” He put the stick in a baggie and marked it with a date before putting it in another cabinet. “I'm guessing it's from that shot I gave you. Works every time.”

But you had stopped listening to the doctor, your hand coming to your still very flat stomach and breathing in sharply. There was someone growing inside of you at this exact moment and neither you nor Curtis had any idea. You didn't feel different, weren't pregnant women supposed to feel different? You were in a daze till the doctor snapped his fingers in your face to get your attention.

“Take these vitamins every day and in a few weeks we will take a look to see how it's growing, okay? I'm assuming this is your first. So nothing strenuous, you be sure to tell us if Curtis is being rough with you. Got it?”

You scowled as you snatched the vitamins from him, nodding. “Can I go back now?”

“No. Wilford still wants to see you.” The doctor exclaimed while marking your chart, doing some calculations before tapping a button to open the door, signalling you were ready to go.

Escorted through more cars, soon you were approaching the giant W that you had seen once before. You tried to stall, but was easily overpowered as Claude held the door open, ushering you to get inside before it snapped shut again. You hugged around yourself, not forgetting back when you were first dragged in here. Wilford was up in the engine, seeming to just be standing and watching the roving machine while Claude nudged you forward to a seat. With an extravagant spin, Wilford threw his hands up as if in joy.

“Y/N!, what a pleasure. I'm so glad you were able to come visit me today. I know you're busy, growing a baby and keeping Curtis company.” He winked as he approached you and you chose silence as your answer. He tugged you back to a stand and pulled you out at arm's length, looking you up and down. “Ahh what a change. You look so good Y/N, simply glowing already. Aren’t you glad I had you brought up from that dirty tail end.”

You again chose silence but Claude cleared her throat nearby. “Till Mr.Wilford thank you bitch.”

“Now now Claude, that's not how we treat our guests.” He had you sit back down, and pulled a chair out to move closer to you. “Not the guest of the hour. I have more good news for you Dear. Exciting news, once in a lifetime news.”

Your gut sank, cause anything that excited Wilford surly couldn't bode well for you.

“See we have this tournament Dear, very good times. Everyone turns out for the event. The people participating are rewarded when they win. This time you will be given to the strongest man there is. Your beauty has not escaped anyone else's notice. They all want you on their arm. So in the end… you will be moving on with the winner.”

You shake your head in a no. “No, please I just want to stay with Curtis.”

Wilford tutted softly and cupped your cheek, grasping it hard enough to make you stop moving, a whimper escaping you.

“Then my Dear, you better encourage Curtis to win.”

#wilfords demands #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer fanfic #amber writes #sweater writes #curtis everett

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another-miracle · 3 years

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Nobody actually told Obi what exactly happened to make Shirayuki leave Tanbarun (now on AO3)

Leave it to Sarah to know the exact “right to the good part” scenario I needed to scratch my writing itch. This one’s for you @claudeng80 :) Set before Eisetsu arc when Shirayuki, Obi and Ryuu are still travelling on the road together.

Dinner starts off as a simple affair. Miss cooks up half the dishes while Obi settles the other half in the in-built kitchen of a decidedly-not-small room they’ve found themselves in (wonders what accommodation one affords with all that sweet Wisteria cash; they are delegates after all). A trade-off that they’d agreed on so that they could cook and have dinner in the same space they would reside for the night - instead of going down to the common area. Ryuu sets the table as best he can.

Eventually, they settle down to eat. The conversation steers towards Miss’ early days in the pharmacy - Ryuu still a boy who hid under tables, a fact present-Ryuu did not appreciate being brought up - and Miss still desperately trying to find her footing in a foreign land. It’s new to Obi, to hear of their endeavours before his arrival to Clarines, and he finds himself enjoying the journey down memory lane. That is, until Miss drops a wayward comment that catches the both of them off guard.

So casual, she says, “It’s so funny. And to think I’d almost had to live my life as Raj’s concubine.”

Ryuu freezes and his eyes dart over to Obi. Similarly, Obi’s glass has paused over his lips. It feels like the air in the room has been abruptly sucked out. The word ‘concubine’ rings in his ears as Miss continues to laugh between bites.

“What do you mean concubine?” Obi asks carefully. He’d thought she’d been invited to the palace to be a princess, or perhaps a lady-in-waiting. To be seen, not...

“Oh yes,” Miss shares, something almost fond lining her lips. “Raj and Sakaki-san had pretty wild ideas back then. Sent me poisoned apples and everything.”

“Miss-what?”

Shirayuki looks up, only now noticing Obi’s tone. Next to him, Ryuu lowers his utensils down and places them on either side of his plate. Obi immediately fixates on Miss’ form. His eyes dart down to her arms, searching for any scars, mind desperately rifling through memories of when they first met, whether she had been constantly wearing long sleeves. She’d worn leggings all this while hasn’t she? Obi resists the urge to bend down to look under the table.

“Oh,” Miss starts again, startling Obi’s gaze back to hers. “Oh! He didn’t get to me- I mean, he did. It’s a funny story actually- Zen ended up being the one eating said apple and getting poisoned. I’d only followed to get the antidote, but thankfully-” she glances at Ryuu, “Zen has had quite a resistance against most poisons, and he was fine.”

The sentence is met with tense silence. Ryuu seems to be staring at his plate as if the peas could conjure up a response. A part of Obi wants to shake the boy and tell him not to worry, to crack a joke to diffuse the air. The other part is blinded by red hot anger. The urge to retrieve his knives and march right up to Tanbarun to commit regicide thrums wildly in his temples.

Friend of the Crown? What on earth was Master thinking - working with someone like that. What on earth was he thinking? He’d spent every afternoon for a month, watching, not knowing, as the two - kidnapper and concubine-to-be - traipsed through the gardens of Tanbarun castle, sat next to each other for hours in the libraries. He’d carried the man on his fucking shoulders.

A touch to his hands and his eyes fly open. Miss’s hand is placed on his, on both of their hands. A small smile plays at her lips. Obi turns to Ryuu. The boy looks frustrated enough to cry.

Miss gives a small laugh. “Hey, it’s over alright? I didn’t bring it up to see you guys upset. It was just in passing. And look, we’re all here now. Royal delegates, serving the Wisteria Crown for the greater good of her people!”

Miss glances up at him, then flicks her gaze at Ryuu. Obi suddenly remembers how distraught Ryuu was when they returned to Clarines after their visit to Tanbarun, having only received news that Miss had been kidnapped. He also remembers the fear in his eyes when both he and Shirayuki succumbed to the then-Lyrias disease.

Obi sighs.

His hand reaches out to ruffle Ryuu’s hair. “Yeah,” Obi says, “Miss wouldn’t let something like that get her down. She’s strong, isn’t she, Little Ryuu?”

Ryuu stares up at him, unshed tears, his gaze darting between the both of them. Obi gives him his best reassuring smile; he knows Miss does too, even if he doesn’t look at her.

The boy sniffs. “Yeah- she is. Yeah.”

--------

Later when the plates are cleared and Ryuu has fallen asleep, exhausted from the additional emotional tirade he had earlier, Obi finds Miss by the window. She sits with her feet propped on the sill, arms wrapped around her knees, gaze focused on the distant horizon. The moon is out, deciding to grace Miss in all the splendour and glow her countenance deserves. If Miss thinks he looks good by the firelight, then it should be of no consequence for him to say-

“You look good in the moonlight, Miss,” Obi tells her, holding out a cup of tea and sitting down by her. Miss accepts the drink with a smile before looking out again. She is quiet - more so than usual. Obi sips his tea and waits.

She thumbs at the rim of the cup, looks down, then up at him. With a sheepish smile, she says, “I wonder if that’s something I might have heard from...men...if…”

She trails off, bringing the cup to her lips, the picture of grace and relief. Obi, on the other hand, is struck frozen for the second time this evening. That’s not what he meant. That’s not what he meant.

“Miss-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Miss rushes out. “That wasn’t fair- it’s just- it’s my fault, I’d brought it up. I don’t mean to say that you’re like any of them- I don’t-”

Miss breathes, a shaky exhale. Obi watches as she struggles with something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them. It’s something more immense than even the distance between two countries, if he’s honest. His heart pulls toward her; the burden she has been carrying for almost two years - the shame, the fear - feelings he has no way of possibly understanding in this lifetime. He aches to reach out for her, but he’s not sure- in that moment, he rehashes every single touch between the two of them. Belatedly, he also finally understands why she’d run when Master kissed her.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, an assurance that falls flat in the space between them. Miss hums in response, forcing out a smile at him in apology. And- Obi doesn’t want that. How many smiles has she hidden behind? Sweet words that fall from her lips - not just to him, but to the very people who’d wanted to kidnap her, to turn her into an object of possession, to reduce her brilliant mind and her wonderful soul and the endlessly faith-bearing light in her eyes into a mere ornament to be gawked at, prodded until nothing is left. What has he been doing? What have they all been doing?

Obi places his mug down on the table before sidling up to the sill, back to the scenery, hands clasped in front of him. He notices Miss is looking at him curiously. Obi sets his gaze on the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the concrete. He doesn’t do this- doesn’t offer more than platitudes to soothe, doesn’t give others more than he should, more than he can spare another human being. But- he thinks of the broken smile on Miss’ face-

“I’d almost lost my life once,” Obi tells the ceiling. “Thought myself hot shit and went around accepting jobs that were clearly beyond my pay grade. Risked my life because I’d thought it a resource to be utilized when needed - as long as it puts bread on the table, money in my pocket.”

Obi turns down and gives Miss a wan smile. “And it’s funny, because that was me when I met you. You, with all your incredible courage, this red-haired girl who’d walked forward in face of an arrow shot at her. Who’d saved an entire colony in face of a disease no one knew. Who’d jumped off a tower. Who’d walked straight back into the place she’d been running from, head held high, into the den of the very person who’d deigned her an object.

Miss flinches at this. And Obi aches.

“And-” Obi pauses. Breathes. “So much of me just wants to ride down the South back to Tanbarun, go up to Raj’s door and wrangle his neck - him and Sakaki both. But beyond that, Miss-”

Obi stares at her, willing the words, “You are beyond what anyone says of you, beyond whatever value anyone places on you. You’re not some object that someone just picks up and calls their own. Because whatever that’s in there,” Obi jabs his thumb against his chest, “it’s not something that can be assigned by anyone else. You are your own person, Miss. You belong to you. And it’s this you who has toppled boundaries, created antidotes, you and your brilliant mind, and your wonderful soul and everything that is you.

“And-” Obi wrenches his gaze from her, hand coming up to push down on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine myself without you. I’ve changed, because of you. Myself and many other people you’ve met in Clarines - Little Ryuu, too. So please-

“Don’t think you are anything less than who you have made yourself to be. Don’t let anything cause that- not Raj, not Master, not Izana, not even me. You are yours, Miss.”

Obi says it quietly, a whisper taken by the wind into the meadows ahead of them. But he knows Miss hears it all the same. Obi lets the words take up the silence, let them take root. He hopes, desperately, that in between the awkward cadence and messy phrasing, Miss may find some comfort in them. An unspoken assurance that he is on her side - always have, and always will be.

Sneaking a glance at her, Obi is startled to find Miss’ head buried in her knees, shoulder shaking.

He jumps up and immediately frets. “M-miss, ahh- I didn’t mean to make you upset! I’m sorr-”

In an instant, Obi’s hand is enclosed between both of hers, warmth effusing through skin. A warbled laugh escapes her and she looks up from her knees up at him. Arrested by the tears in her eyes, Obi watches as she smiles that broken smile again - only this time, he knows it isn’t forced. She brings his hand close to her, and places the back of it against her forehead. Obi’s hand twitches, almost aching to cup her face and rub the tears trickling down - but clearly Miss is having a moment as she closes her eyes and breathes.

“Thank you, Obi,” Miss tells him, words entangling around his fingers. “It never gets easier- I don’t think it will, but-”

She takes his hand and cups it against her cheek anyway, collapsing all his walls. “You, being here. You remind me that I’m worth more.”

He can’t resist his fingers running across the apples of her cheekbones. He wipes away every tear that falls and bends down close, leaning his forehead against hers. There are no words to describe the monument of a woman before him now, and as he draws strength from this little form of comfort he’s offered, he only hopes she receives the same.

It will not be easy, probably never will, as Miss says.

But Obi will be damned if she ever faces it alone again.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #this has to be one of the most emotionally exhausting fics i’ve ever written #yixin’s fic

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

#daisy johnson x y/n #daisy johnson x reader #marvels aos #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#angst #fic #quake #ashby writes #dousy #lincoln cambell x daisy johnson #lincoln cambell x reader #mcu #bioquake #jemma simmons #gn!reader

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kuromantic · 4 years

Text

Tales of Zombish: Haikyuu Light Novel Translation

*This is my translation of the Zombie Knight Zombish snippets from the light novel. It’s split into 5 parts, and inserted between each chapter of the light novel. Don’t copy this to another site. The translation is under the cut!

Zombie Knight Zombish

1: Zombish is Born!!

Nightfall. A lone swordsman wakes up. A swordsman that does not know of true death, because of experiencing a false death.

“...Wait, it’s still evening, you stupid crow!”

The man yells at the small crow beside him, having just woken up by a thin bush. The man’s body was wrapped up in an old, tattered cloth—which must have been a cloak some time ago—which covered his entire body.

“I could have gotten burned by the setting sun…” The man blocks out the sunlight with the tattered cloth, and the crow caws apologetically.

“Well, it’s okay. I don’t even have a body that can be burned.”

The man laughs, and the crow flaps its black wings, flying ahead up into the sky. The man follows it with his gaze, squinting at the brightness. He stands up.

“Oh, well. Guess I’ll go.”

The man starts to walk. His frame was thin and delicate, which could be seen even when it was covered with the tattered cloth. And on his back, was a sword.

The sword, which is large enough to not be recognized as one at first glance, does not suit the lean man.

“Man, I wonder if a car will pass by… Eh, I guess no sane person would have gasoline now.”

There’s no road where the man looks ahead.

In the dead world where smokey, dried up wastelands stretch out for seemingly forever, the man continues to walk alone today.

“Yeah, isn’t this good? Isn’t this good? It sounds like the story’s just begun, right?”

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, stands up with an excited face and gets another drink from the self-service fountains. He returns to his table with a glass of cola in his hand. He continues working on his storyboard.

The only equipment on the table is a notebook, a pencil and an eraser. On the open page, there are scribbles that nobody else could decipher. It’s the storyboard Udai made with all his effort.

I wanna try and make a manga. I like it. With that, Udai had drawn a manga during his college years. And it had won an honourable mention in the rookie awards. He had gotten an editor and debuted as a mangaka. But the reality was, he wasn’t quite reaching serialization.

But now, “Zombie Knight Zombish”, is being created in the restaurant. And there’s a confidence that hasn’t been there before.

“‘Everything but death is nothing but a scratch’? He needs to get over himself… No, maybe ‘Mortal bodies, they make me jealous.’...”

Udai mumbles dialogues to himself, changing his expressions to suit the main character’s. The other customers at the restaurant glance at him.

But he can’t afford to care about those gazes.

Zombish needs to help the heroine attacked by the enemy, in an extremely cool and overdramatic manner.

And the enemy has to be a fated opponent that Zombish has known before turning into a zombie. The heroine needs to be a key person, for Zombish to return from zombie to human. And of course, she needs to be cute, a little strong-willed, who tries to join in on the fighting sometimes. But also a girl who you just want to protect…

A flash.

The girl’s eyes can only capture the white hand, emerging from the tattered cloth and gripping the sword on his back.

She feels wind brush past her cheeks, and closes her eyes. She opens them again, and the bandits have already collapsed onto the dry ground.

“Huh? What…?”

As the girl struggles to comprehend what had happened, Zombish is already starting to walk away.

“Hey, don’t leave me behind!”

She grabs the knight. At that moment, the tattered cloth on him rips and falls to the ground.

What appears is not the handsome knight she expected. Nor a fighter that’s big and well-muscled. It’s a skeleton.

“...Wait, bone?! Why bone! Bone? Wait, do bones even talk?!”

“Yeah, I’m bone! So sorry I’m bone, sue me!”

The knight picks up the truly tattered piece of rag, and hides his body. It truly looks like a skeletal model. He turns his back to the girl.

“Anyway, I’m bone. So I can’t go with you. Protect yourself, you’re on your own.”

The “bone”, that had slain a crowd of bandits instantly, tries to walk away from one single girl, as if to escape from her.

Staring at Zombish’s lanky, weak-looking back and the huge sword on it, the girl shouts over at him.

“Hey, bone! Can you eat?”

Zombish turns around, lifts the tattered cloth, and points around his stomach with a laugh.

“You wanna see me eat? It’s hilarious.”

“If you don’t eat… That means I don’t have to share my food or water with you, right?”

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re bone or not, if you can defeat these guys. You’re pretty strong.” The girl points to the iron-clad, muscular bandit with a mohawk. “And I should sew that cloth I ripped back together…”

Zombish laughs, his hard skull distorting a little. “I’m not strong. Those guys are just small fries. But I guess I’ll have you fix this cloth for me.”

At those words, the girl runs up to him.

In the dried-up world of death, two footsteps mark their paths. Up above in the sky, a crow flies around in circles. As if to watch over them.

Zombish’s journey has just started!!

“I wonder what my editor will say…”

The man, once the “Little Giant”, leaves the restaurant and returns home. And without changing his clothes, collapses into his futon for the first time in a while.

2. VS Editor A!!

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right?” Akaashi Keiji opens his heavy mouth, holding his coffee in one hand. It makes Akaashi heavy-hearted to meddle with a work an author brought to him.

Kanda, Chiyoda City, Tokyo.

In the editorial department of Weekly Shonen Vie, there’s an extreme lack of people in the afternoon.

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, freezes momentarily in the meeting space. And he attempts to brush it off with a laugh.

“Yeah, I thought, ‘Is a skeleton okay?’ for a bit. But maybe a Japanese-style zombie would be new, and I thought I could pull it off. We all get cremated in Japan, too. Hahaha.”

“I see.”

Akaashi looks at the copy of “Zombie Knight Zombish” on the table, and Udai laughing in front of him. And he says one more time, with force behind his words. That this is the last time he’ll say this, and he won’t say the same thing again.

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right.”

The question mark had disappeared.

It’s not a question, but a confirmation of fact.

“...Yeah.” Udai replies weakly. He drops his shoulders, and bites the straw of his cola.

It’s tough.

It had been his best work. He had a confidence in it, that he hadn’t before with his other works. But his concept had been fundamentally criticized.

The editor continues talking to the crestfallen Udai.

“And one more thing.”

“...What is it?”

Udai hunches his shoulders, looking up at Akaashi like a scolded child. Akaashi sips his coffee, adjusts his glasses and lets out a breath. He opens his mouth slowly.

“We’ve established that a skeleton is not a zombie. But I think this skeleton’s design is a little lacking, in the first place. It’s no different to any old skeleton. For the main character, I want a quirk that will tell you it’s Zombish with just one look.”

“Any old skeleton?” Udai says, and draws a normal-looking skeleton into his notebook.

“Yes. For example, he could be wearing glasses, or he could have a large scar. I want a unique design. Even if you draw him simply, you would know it’s him. If I were to ask for more, I’d even say make his silhouette recognizable. That’s how strong his design should be.”

Udai adds a scar to his skeleton, and mumbles, “I guess it can’t be a scar, if his silhouette has to be recognizable.”

“The scar is just one example.”

“I’m sorry…”

Udai slurps the cola at the bottom of the glass, which is pretty much melted ice. He laughs disappointedly.

“I thought the skeleton was fine, since he was cremated. Like a Japanese-style zombie. Well, there’s no zombie-ness, I guess…”

At those words, Akaashi’s glasses shine.

“Then… How about you make Zombish look more Japanese? It could link with his sword, too.”

“What?”

“Well, this is just one what-if scenario.”

“...No, I think it could work. I’ll think about it! Then maybe he can look different from any old zombie!” Udai grabs his pen, and draws a Japanese-style zombie in his notebook. “If it’s Japanese clothes and a sword, he’d just be a samurai… How do I give him the zombie knight feeling…”

Watching the pen move busily and create many versions of Zombish, Akaashi feels a weight lift from his heart.

It makes him heavy-hearted to meddle with other people’s works. But sometimes, his words make the author take a step in a good direction. That must be why he can continue with this job.

“So now, please brush up on the work. And, depending on the edited manuscript, I may bring it up during the serialization meeting.”

Udai’s pen stops moving. “Wait, why?! You’ve been talking about my work so harshly and tearing into it this whole time!”

“...I haven’t been tearing into it. It’s entertaining, so I just want to make the story even more entertaining.”

Udai’s face crumples, as he looks up at Akaashi. “Akaashi-san, you weren’t just an unpleasant person, after all!”

“I’m an unpleasant person…?”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it that way! I meant it in an um, good way!”

Akaashi doesn’t ask what exactly he means by that, and organizes the manuscript. “Zombish is very entertaining, compared to the works you have brought me so far. I think you have a chance.”

“Thank you!”

“Oh, and lastly…”

“There’s… still more?” Udai tenses.

Akaashi chuckles, before talking. “I’ve been thinking for a while, but this bit on the edge of the page, saying ‘Zombish’s journey has only just begun!’. You don’t need to write that. It’s the editor’s job.”

“...!!”

4. Get Serialized!!

It’s just past noon. Noticing that the phone is ringing, Udai reaches out from under the futon. He checks, and realizes it’s Akaashi. He gets out of the futon in a hurry, and answers.

“You were asleep.” Akaashi says, in the same straightforward tone.

“...I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry too. I’m going to get into it. Your one-shot is well-received.”

At those words, Udai’s hand begins to sweat. He had been told to make a one-shot for the extra issue, and had made “Zombie Knight Zombish” with everything he’d got.

He had changed Zombish’s design into a young man with patchwork skin, after Akaashi’s critique. He likes the way the bandages show around his collar. It can’t have been a skeleton, he thinks. It’s hard to relate to a skeleton.

The “recognizable by silhouette” task had been cleared with the axe on his head. The zombie knight element was incorporated, by making him detach his left arm to wield his sword. Maybe they’ll make a movable figure out of the character.

Above all, it was a work he’d been confident in. If it had still been absolutely hopeless, Udai wouldn’t have been able to recover from it.

“Thank god…” Udai feels the tension drain out of him, and Akaashi continues.

“And now, I would like to brush up Zombish to prepare for serialization.”

“Of course! With pleasure!” Udai answers with gusto, almost like an izakaya employee.

“Firstly, your heroine.”

“Yes!”

I should probably fix up the heroine a bit more, Udai thinks. Make her cuter, better… But Akaashi doesn’t steer the conversation in that direction.

“In the one-shot, Zombish saves her, and they decide to go on a journey together, and it ends there.”

“Huh? Oh, yes.”

“If the one-shot will be chapter one, are they going to be travelling together in chapter two and beyond?”

It’s not anything fun, like about making the heroine have a good figure or about how revealing her clothes should be.

And really, Udai hadn’t been thinking what would happen once it got serialized. Well, he supposes it would be like what Akaashi just said.

“Wouldn’t the readers grow bored of that?” As if to read Udai’s mind, Akaashi says.

“What?”

“The main character and the heroine go on a journey together the whole time, an enemy appears, he saves her, he defeats the enemy, and then moves on. And they continue like that until the final boss.”

“Yeah…”

“Wouldn’t that bore people?”

Wait, am I getting given out to?

No, he’d only been thinking of the one-shot as a base, so he hadn’t set anything beyond that in stone. He had only thought that leaving the readers hoping for more would be enough.

“...Um, if it’s possible, I’d like to talk about this in person.” Udai says, wiping the sweat off his palms with his t-shirt.

“All right. When are you free?”

And so, in the editorial department the day after, the brainstorming session in the meeting space had continued for more than two hours.

“So then, instead of a heroine that just keeps getting saved…”

“She’d be like a buddy that also gives witty comebacks.”

Udai draws a bunch of expressions for the female character. Flustered, angry, glaring… He stops his pen, and looks at Akaashi.

“Then maybe Zombish will have a goofy side, instead of just being cool?”

“But please don’t make it into a gag manga. Looking at the survey results, there are a lot of people saying that the manga is interesting because Zombish is cool.” Akaashi answers, looking at the survey chart.

“I see… Balancing it out is hard.” Udai draws out a bunch of Zombish’s expressions in his notebook, and laughs. “But it’s fun. It feels like I’m making a manga.”

“It’s good to hear that.” Akaashi smiles for a moment, and continues. “And also, about the enemy. Instead of them being a group of bandits in the harsh world, making them an organization would add depth to the story.”

“Oh, maybe they’re the reason Zombish turned into a zombie?”

“Sounds good.”

Udai’s mood lifts from Akaashi’s acknowledgement, and opens up a page earlier on in his notebook.

“Look here! The final boss is a fated opponent from before Zombish turned into a zombie. And the heroine is a key person for Zombish to turn back into a human. So I thought right now, maybe the heroine is the daughter of the final boss.”

In contrast to the excited Udai, Akaashi lets out a low groan of uncertainty.

“...So what, exactly, is Zombish fighting for?”

“You always ask questions that can make the whole thing fall apart, Akaashi-san.”

“Well, isn’t that the most important part?”

Expanding ideas simple-mindedly is fun. The more he expands, picking up the pieces and making the story coherent will be hell, though. But knowing that, talking about final bosses and rivals is genuinely fun.

“Secret hideouts are great, aren’t they?”

“If they’ve taken over this world, isn’t there no need to keep it a secret? Something that would display their power…”

“A castle!”

7. Secret Technique: Bolster Up!

Just after serialization, the response had been very good. It had been. Udai had been in a good mood, asking “This will definitely be turned into an anime, right?”

But now, it had gotten to a point where they couldn’t let it get any lower on the survey rankings.

“........”

“Are you okay?” Akaashi’s senior sees him with his head in his hands, and speaks to him.

“...Oh, yes.”

“It’s about Zombish, right? You should bolster it up with something. Like, with a pretty girl or a handsome guy,” the senior says. “Well, I don’t know.” He returns to his seat, after saying his part.

“Bolster it up…”

Akaashi’s brows knit together.

Would that be enough? Could such a hasty, superficial solution entertain the readers? Well, the current results point to the fact that they’re not entertained. But even so, shouldn’t they be charming the audience with the protagonist’s appeal, or how interesting the story is?

“The protagonist’s appeal, huh…”

But what are the features of a protagonist that will be loved?

What kind of story makes the readers want to come back for more?

“.....”

It would be the anticipation the readers have for the main character. What will happen next week? What will he show us next? Expectations as such. There must have been a lack of absolute protagonist strength, if he thinks about it.

But that was the result of trying to create a dark fantasy, painting a delicate picture of emotions. Precisely because it was an absurd world with a zombie knight appearing in it. Was that what they had done wrong? Was it impossible for his literature department-aspiring self to make an entertaining manga, after all…?

After pondering for a long time, Akaashi lifts his head with a start.

“....!”

Wait a minute.

Am I making the same mistake again?

Am I thinking I could control the author and the readers?

“...No. Pour your spirit into each ball, pour your spirit into each ball…”

Yes. Focus on the next point, the next ball. Focus on this week’s story, the obstacle the protagonist must overcome.

His desk becomes messier each day, as if to reflect inside his heart. Akaashi closes his eyes, and focuses his mental state.

“Don’t think about what’s easy, think about what’s fun. What’s fun…”

The survey rankings going down, getting discontinued isn’t fun. Then what is he meant to do…?

“Give feedback… Connect it to the next step… The next…”

The seniors look at Akaashi worriedly, in front of the printer.

“Akaashi is muttering to himself again, is he okay? He won’t quit, will he?”

“He always comes back to life afterwards, you can leave him alone.”

“Yep.”

“I want an absolute, strong main character.” Akaashi says to Udai, during their meeting.

“Absolute?”

“Yes. Like a star that hits any ball with his utmost ability.”

“Am I going to get discontinued?!”

Udai stands up with a clatter, face growing pale. Akaashi shakes his head quietly.

“...Please calm down. It’s not getting discontinued, yet.”

“...Yet…” Udai shrinks, and sits back down.

“It’s a tough situation, but let’s turn things around.”

They’re burning their bridges behind them.

On the walls around the meeting space, there are many posters of works that had been turned into anime and movies. And the cardboard boxes blocking the corridor are packed with samples of goods.

They have to join the ranks of those popular works, at all cost…!

Akaashi brings his gaze back to Udai, and starts to summarize the things he had thought about for the past week.

“The main character… Zombish is a ‘star’. The readers have expectations for the star. What will he do next? What awesome moves will he show us? What kind of crazy risks will he take?

“We want the main character to amaze us with unexpected, yet charming actions. Whether Zombish sinks or swims will depend on how he overcomes next week’s desperate situation.”

Akaashi lifts the paper bag on the floor. “And there’s a favour I want to ask from you.”

“What’s this? I was wondering about it for a while.” The paper bag handed to him is unexpectedly heavy. Udai glances inside. “A blu-ray?”

“Yes. I picked out swashbuckler films of all types, that have useful scenes for composition and pose references. At this point, we should take in anything cool and flashy.”

“Thank you!”

“Also, it will be hard for you to watch it all, so I wrote the times for scenes I want you to watch.” Akaashi gives him a note.

“I’ll definitely watch it! I’ll use them as references!”

“I’ll do anything I can as well. Let’s both try our best.”

There’s no way Akaashi can control what story the author will bring to him, what the other works will be like, how the readers will react.

So, he should think about what he can do, what he should do.

Avoiding discontinuation— it’s hard, but it shouldn’t be impossible.

10. Our fight has only just begun!

“Zombish is getting discontinued… You have seven chapters left…”

After getting the phone call informing him of the discontinuation, Udai had gone outside. Staying in his room felt too painful. But why, and how he’d come to the editing department, he doesn’t remember.

Akaashi had been taken aback, after Udai had come without contacting him. But one look at his face, and he knew he couldn’t leave him by himself. And so he had taken him to a nearby coffee shop to talk to him. It was just his luck that he hadn’t gone outside the company.

“Please order anything you like.”

Akaashi gives the menu to Udai sitting opposite to him, but Udai drops it onto the table, not having enough energy to hold it.

Akaashi pulls the menu closer to himself, trying not to show his shock. “Is coffee all right, then?”

“........”

There’s no answer, but Akaashi asks for two cups of coffee from the waiter. He chooses his words carefully, and begins to speak.

“We had unfortunate results this time, but…” Akaashi continues, to the dejected Udai. “And as a suggestion from me…”

“........”

“I would like to get a fresh start with a new work. We should solidify the concept more for your next work, and compete with a work only you can make.”

“Next…?” Udai raises his head at last, only to slam it back into the table. “There’s nothing! There’s no such thing that only I can make!” He lifts his crumpled face, and yells.

“That’s not true. There must be something…”

“It is too! There’s nothing!”

Akaashi can only bite his lip, while his assigned author descends into total panic.

What should he do…

He can’t just say “Bye, then,” and leave him feeling downcast. He had wanted to part ways with him in a positive manner, connecting him to the next step. That might just be his own ego talking, though.

“...I’m sure there’s a good theme for you. Is there anything you liked as a child, or something you put your heart into?”

“I’m just a jack-of-all-trades, average guy. I’ve just gotten by in regards to study, sports, art and music…”

When Udai had been in good form, he had preened about it, saying “I can do pretty much anything!”, but now he’s totally dejected. Well, that can’t be helped. He’s getting discontinued, after all.

The only thing Akaashi can do, is to tell him his completely honest thoughts.

“I don’t think a serialized author is just a jack-of-all-trades, average person.”

“I’m not a serialized author anymore, I’m a discontinued author…”

At that moment, the waiter arrives. He shows a slightly intrigued face at Udai’s words, but immediately puts on his professional face and turns on his heels.

Akaashi takes the cup, and inhales the aroma of coffee to calm himself down. He thinks. Maybe he should make some small talk, and change the mood.

What should he talk about? Not about his work, or about what lays ahead. Then, about Udai himself? He wonders what he had talked about with him recently. What club had he joined in college? Where was he from?

And he remembers.

“Udai-san, you told me before that you’re from Tohoku. Were there any unusual traditions there? That you can write a manga about.”

“...Yeah, I’m from Miyagi. But I lived in a normal estate, it was all pretty normal.”

Udai says with a hoarse voice, and absentmindedly puts sugar cubes into his coffee. Many, many sugar cubes. Akaashi thinks he’s adding a bit too much, but there’s an atmosphere around them that makes him unable to say that.

“Well, maybe where I live is in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to you. You’re from Tokyo, after all.”

“That’s not…”

Akaashi thinks that Udai is getting a little too dejected with him, but he can’t be blamed. “Zombie Knight Zombish” is Udai’s first serialization, and his first discontinuation.

Food, sleep… Udai had sacrificed such human necessities, and yet his work had not been well-received. Of course he would be dejected.

And as a new employee, “Zombie Knight Zombish” was Akaashi’s first work that he had launched from nothing. Due to being emotionally invested in it, Akaashi had felt deeply disappointed about the decision made for Zombish.

Which is exactly why he had wanted to end it on a positive note. Surely there’s something in common with them, that they can talk about…

Akaashi, feeling cornered, opens his mouth. And starts to talk about something unexpected, even to himself.

“...Actually, I have someone I know in Miyagi. It was in relation to the club I was in during high school.”

“I see.”

Udai stirs his coffee with lifeless eyes, not picking up the conversation at all. He doesn’t even drink the coffee that is surely too sweet.

“........”

Of course. Someone else’s high school years is the most irrelevant subject to Udai right now. But really, what should he do? Telling someone they’re being discontinued, and thinking of what happens afterwards, is a first for Akaashi. And it’s a big job. He isn’t sure what the correct thing to do is.

Akaashi falls silent, and Udai opens his mouth. “...What club were you in, during high school?” He asks, not sounding that interested. It feels more like he asked out of obligation, because there was a break in the conversation.

Akaashi feels regret, after realizing he’s made Udai read the room for him. But at the same time, he feels relieved that some of Udai’s energy has come back.

“Volleyball.”

“I see. I did volleyball, too.” Udai says. “During my years, we went to the Spring High nationals, too.”

At those words, Akaashi places the coffee he had lifted back onto the table.

“Oh, me… too.”

“Really?! That’s amazing, Akaashi-san!”

“No, you too.”

And with a light premonition, Akaashi asks. “...Which school did you attend in Miyagi?”

“It’s not a powerhouse, so I don’t know if you’d know…” Udai laughs, before answering. “It’s called Karasuno.”

Please look forward to Udai-sensei’s next work, “Meteo Attack”!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu novel translation #akaashi keiji #udai tenma #zombie knight zombish

520 notes · View notes

kim-miyeon · 3 years

Text

Hell Above-Chapter Thirteen

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content. read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, murder, fighting scenes, abuse, pregnancy, family issues, mild abuse, angst, 18+

WORD COUNT: 4K

Previous | Next

A Match Into Water

“He’s lying.”

You stood in the hospital room, arms crossed, biting down on your thumb as Felix spoke. All five of you had come to Jeongin’s side the morning after you reconnected with Hyunjin. The conversation left you shaken.

“What do you mean? Your father killed mine. That has always been --”

“My father didn’t order that massacre. He wasn’t aware about it until after it was done.”

“Well, if not your father then who…”

“Chan’s father. He carried out the massacre…”

You felt your head grow dizzy and Hyunjin held you tighter in fear that you were overwhelmed. And you were.

“Why didn’t your father… I mean..how could it have been..”

“I don’t know. Their relationship is so rocky, but I think my father had taken the blame for it, to protect my uncle.”

You stood there, mind airy. Heart weakened. All this time, you believed that it was Hyunjin’s father who had slain your parents. That he murdered your

, in cold blood. The gruesome murder that had no respect for human life. And not only you, but you aunts and uncles all died in the same house.

You had just come clean to everyone as Minho and Seungmin were sitting down watching as all of you were debriefing from the new found information.

“Why would I lie?” Hyunjin spoke up at Felix as he stood next to you.

It was a moment. All of you in the face of a Hwang, a mortal enemy. Felix growing timid to the new found information that this relationship was extremely real, your pregnancy, everything in between. Now being told that his mother died at the hands of another Hwang.

“Why would he lie to me?” You asked Felix who looked at you distressed. You pleaded through your eyes to have some kind of civilized conversation.

“It doesn’t make sense, the massacre was done by the Hwang Family. Hyunjin’s father was the leader.” Felix continued at you.

“Obviously it’s a touchy subject for everyone,” Seungmin chimed in removing Felix’s attention from you and Hyunjin to him as you looked up at Hyunjin who looked at you.

“I just don’t understand..” Jeongin spoke over the tension and you looked at him as he spoke.

“What don’t you understand?” Minho asked.

“If Chan’s father carried out the attack, then why did grandfather tell us that it was Hyunjin’s father?” Jeongin’s words made your heart stop.

“Well, my father took the blame..” Hyunjin began and you stared at the floor feeling the blood in your veins run cold.

“But grandfather survived the massacre. He was in the mansion at the time. He was the only one who survived.” Jeongin innocently stated and you felt anxious and jittery.

Jeongin was beginning to shed light on a new found idea. Why was your grandfather the only one to have survived that massacre? Why did you grow up believe Hyunjin’s father killed your own? If your grandfather was there, wouldn’t he have known who would have committed a crime? Or has he been innocent all this time?

Something in the pit of your stomach was telling you to go. To go find out. The truth was itching at you and you looked up at Jeongin and then turned to Hyunjin.

“I have to go.” You said as you walked out of the hospital room and Hyunjin called out from behind you.

You started walking towards the exit as you felt a hand grab yours suddenly pulling you back around. Hyunjin’s soft face looked at yours as you looked at him, mind completely taken over by your new found mission.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back into your center, his large hand caressing your cheek softly as you looked up at him. He was so intoxicating, he could remove all the toxins of the world around you and make you feel light. You smiled softly and nudged into his hand.

“To see your father.”

He pulled back slowly looking at you changing his epiression. “What?”

“Hey!” Minho’s voice came from behind Hyunjin’s body as you both looked at him, “What’s going on?”

Minho looked at you, “ Where are you going?”

“I need to go find out the truth.” You sternly said.

“My father won’t speak to you Y/N. He is very--” Hyunjin began and you grabbed his hand comfortingly and smiled.

“But he will speak to you. Come with me.” You then looked at Minho, “You too.”

“Go to the Hwangs? Are you crazy?” Minho asked shockingly.

“Hyun-Woo knows more than he’s sharing. And for the sake of myself and…” You looked down at your stomach, “ and my family. I need to know.”

The two stood silent in front of you and you sighed.

“None of us asked to be here. We have a chance to create peace with my family. I will stop at nothing to make sure peace is established. “ You stated and Hyunjin gripped your hand harder as you turned your gaze to him.

“Okay. We will come.”

*******************************************************************************************

Hyunjin drove up on the gravel road as you stared at the large extravagant home that pulled your vision and caught you in a mouth agape.

“Wow…” you whispered at the beauty of the home.

“Pretty right?” Hyunjin chuckled and you nodded.

“You grew up here?” you looked at him and Hyunjin sighed.

“I promise you it wasn’t as great as you may think it was.”

Once Hyunjin made a completely stop in front of the large stairs of the mansion, men with assault rifles began to take a stance as Hyunjin turned the car off. He shifted to you and Minho and nodded.

“Stay with me. Give them your guns. They won’t hurt you.” You nodded at Hyunjin and Minho agreed as all three of you opened up the doors and you stepped out of the car.

“HANDS UP!” A soldier yelled pointing his rifle at you and Minho. You obliged to the soldier as Hyunjin began to clear the air.

“They are with me. Lower your weapons.” Hyunjin demanded and the soldier looked at him in confusion, slowly backing away from you and Minho as you inhaled deeply.

“Give them your weapons.” Hyunjin demanded and you side eyed him. You lowered your hands as he walked over to you and leaned his head down at you, “Keep your hands up.”

Hyunjin’s hand patted you down over your sides until they landed on your holster, above your guns and you smiled at him. He leaned in closer and whispered in your ear.

“Don’t crumble under my touch so quickly Ms. Lee.”

“Don’t underestimate my self control Mr. Hwang.” You winked at him as he removed your weapon, and removed the magazine and handed it to a soldier.

Minho looked over to you and leaned over, “Is he going to do that to me?:

You glared at Minho as he snickered before lowering his hands to grab his own gun to hand it to the soldiers.

Hyunjin nudged the both of you up the stairs as you followed him throughout the large mansion. You walked through the long hallways of the Hwang mansion, taking in the atmosphere of a world you had never been so exposed to. Large paintings of the generations of leaders and families of the Hwang family coated the gold accent interiors. You looked at Minho who was also taking in all of the sight and you sighed. Hyunjin looked back at you as you two began to approach the large door.

Hyunjin stopped and looked at the both of you as he groaned a bit.

“Don’t mention the pregnancy. Or our relationship. I don’t know how he might….react.”

You looked closely at Hyunjin and he smiled at you as he turned to knock on the door.

“Come in” A faint low voice came from the inside and Hyunjin pushed open the door to reveal a beautifully crafted and lit office space, with Hyun-Woo sitting at his desk, completely indulging in an assignment. He looked up quickly and glanced at Hyunjin but then reacted faster when he realized Hyunjin wasn't alone. He stood up and grabbed the glasses of his face as his face grew worrisome.

“Lee Y/N. Are you here to finish what you began?” Hyun-woo asked and you looked at him innocently.

“I am not here to harm you or your family. I come seeking answers.”

Hyun-woo shifted his gaze to Hyunjin and looked at him confusingly, “You brought them here?”

“There’s alot of misunderstanding father. We just want to set the record straight.”

“What record?” Hyun-woo’s voice grew stern and you stepped forward.

“The massacre of Lee Won-Shik. Were you there?” You asked and Hyun-woo looked at you and inhaled deeply squinting his eyes at you.

“Father, please.” Hyunjin asked almost craving the answer as much as you.

Hyun-woo cleared his throat, “ No. I wasn’t”

“It was your brother. Chan’s father, wasn’t it?” Minho asked and Hyun-Woo walked over to the front of his desk slowly and nodded his head.

“Why are you asking?”

“MY grandfather used me to take out revenge against your family, by murdering Hyunjin. You took the blame so I needed to know if what he saw that night was true or not.”

“I wondered the same thing, when Yeji told me about everything. Why your grandfather grew so obsessed as to harm my own flesh and blood when it wasn’t I who slayed his son.” Hyun-woo looked at you and you were entranced into the story.

“Your father spoke of peace. Unification between all the families of the network. His goal was to include The Hwangs and end generations of hatred and senseless murder. We spoke briefly about setting up a meeting to discuss options for growth. I was interested in building peace. Both families were strong economically, and power. But the next thing I knew, your father was reported dead. The whole family nearly gone.

“Except..” you whispered.

“Your grandfather.” you and Minho exchanged a gaze and you furrowed your brows.

“He survived the massacre though.” You stated.

“Without a scratch on his body.” Hyun-woo said and you were taken aback.

:That can’t be true, he has a --”

“Gunshot wound scar in his side? Not from the massacre.” Hyun-Woo stated.

“So why did you cover for uncle?” Hyunjin spoke and Hyun-Woo sighed and looked at him.

“I was the leader at the time, I represented the Hwang family and it was my duty. But, I did not agree with the massacre. I didn’t know that Won Shik birthed a child and that she would be standing here with my son.”

You looked at Hyunin who looked back at you and Hyun Woo cleared his throat again.

“Y/N. There’s a lot of history and information I think has been suppressed from you. I advise you to go to your grandfather and ask him about all of this.” Hyun-Woo spoke and you shook your head.

“Are you implying that my grandfather has lied to me?”

“ I am implying that your grandfather has played far too many parts in your disaster than you realize.”

You looked at Minho and back to Hyun-Woo. You nodded in gratitude and you glanced at Hyunjin as he nodded as you left the room with Minho, both of you in the same mindset. Once outside the door you exhaled.

“Minho, grandfather certainly could not have lied to us, right? He wouldn’t put Jeongin through that.” You almost felt sick at the thought of that man and Minho paced slowly.

“Hyun-Woo is also suspicious. We need to go to Grandfather’s chambers.”

“We cannot go there. It’s off limits to anyone.” You spoke and Minho gripped your shoulders firmly.

“He’s hiding something. Think about it Y/N. Nothing is adding up anymore.”

Hyunjin then opened the door to the study and joined your two in the hallway. He looked ghostly and you grew worried as you walked to him and let your hands caress his neck.

“Are you okay?” You asked as Hyunjin looked into your eyes, and he leaned in to place a small peck on your lips.

“Never been better.” He smiled at you and you nodded kissing him again softly.

“Minho and I are going to go to grandfather’s chambers. I think you should stay behind for this one.” You advised and Hyunjin face grew understanding mixed with worry.

“I’ll drive you both. Let’s go. “

*****************************************************************************************

You and Minho began to walk up the dark hallways that lead to the chamber. Ahead you saw two guards outside the door and you grew incredibly nervous as many memories returned to your mind of the hallways and the office you were approaching. The guards began to take a defense stance as you two had neared and you paused.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” Minho asked and you looked at him in fear. You felt all the inner child feelings grow of being afraid to walk any closures and the guards were also prepared to place bullets between your eyes.

“I can’t.. Minho...I can’t-” Minho grabbed your hand and looked at you.

“No… you can. You have. And you will, understand?” Minho then slid his hand to your gun and you glanced down and watched him cock your weapon in your holster. You looked back at him and he nodded and you pressed your lips together. You sighed and you two began walking as you watched the guards step closer.

“Grandfather is not here. Please leave.”

“When will he be back?” Minho slyly asked and the guard cocked his head and Minho quickly reached for his gun and a sound of gunshots began going off as Minho leaned and grab the gun from the mans hand and elbowed him in the side of his head as the guard fell to the ground and Minho aimed his gun to place a bullet in the head of the guard. The other guard was unable to react as quickly after he aimed his weapon at you and you grabbed it, causing the trigger to be pulled and a shot fired ringing in your ears. You elbowed the man in the gut as he tried to fight you off. Minho then kicked the man from the side as you grabbed the gun from your holster and shot the man from the back, the bullet striking the back of his neck and he fell down instantly. You were breathing heavily and Minho looked at you and panicked.

“Quick, we have no time.” You two walked to the door and tried to budge it open, finding it to be locked.

“Fuck.” You cursed and you pushed Minho back, “Step back.”

You aimed your gun and fired a few shots against the side of the door where the lock was and used the force of your leg to kick the door open. Once the door slammed opened, you and Minho walked in and you saw the emptiness of the office. You looked at the duskiness of the book shelves and the dust collecting on the seats as Minho made his way to grandfathers desk and began rusting through the drawers and the papers.

“God this man doesn’t do anything but bitch and moan. Why does he have so much shit on his desk?” you heard Minho groan.

Your mind was taken to all the memories of you crying on the floor. Screaming echoing the office. You touched your face as you remembered every strike, kick, spit. This wasn't a chamber, or an office. It was your own personal torture dungeon, a piece of your hell. Your whole life created here, in this dungeon. Your purpose and your hiding created behind the walls of this underground place. You wish you could rewind the clocks and hold the small girl who was at the edge, walking on shattered glass.

“Y/N..” Minho’s voice pulling you back to reality, his face pushing you into a dark hole.

You walked over to him at the desk and you saw his eyes glance at you and down at the folder.

“Look at this.”

You looked down and saw photos and letters. Back and forth conversations and messages. Exchanges. Information about you, Jeongin, Minho, Seungmin, and Felix. All of you were exposed. To Yeji.

“He hired her…” You spoke softly and looked up at Minho, “ He sold us out.”

Minho then bit his lip, holding a sheet in his hand, “He sold everyone out.”

You grabbed the sheet from Minho and a picture of your father’s dead body was painted on it as the photo read, “Completed.”

“No..”

Minho began rummaging through the papers where he found your father’s picture and then you two jumped when the door slammed shut and your grandfather looked at you two and cleared his throat.

You saw red. You felt your blood boiling, bubbling in your veins.

“You two know you’re not supposed to be here.” his voice was slow. Nonchalant.

“You.” You gritted. “You hired Yeji. You let her provoke me. YOU LET HER HURT JEONGIN!” You raised your gun at your grandfather and Minho looked at you.

“Y/N..” Minho whispered.

“I was testing you.” your grandfather began, “and you failed. Like your father.”

“What did you do to my father? I know Hyun-Woo didn’t kill him .” You stepped forwards and threw the picture of your father at your grandfather, “Tell me the truth.”

“I have spoken the truth.”

“BULLSHIT! HOW DID YOU SURVIVE THAT MASSACRE?! YOU LIED ABOUT HYUN-WOO. ABOUT YEJI.”

“Y/N..” Minho whispered.

“WHAT!” You yelled at Minho and he was holding a phone transcript. YOu snatched it and looked at it quickly.

‘Tomorrow night. I will gather the family at the mansion.”

‘We will be there at twenty-one hundred.”

“Leave no body alive”

You looked up at your grandfather and you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“You killed your family.” You softly said as your grandfather just stood there looking at you, “Your two son, and three daughter. MY MOTHER. YOU SOLD THEM OUT. YOU TRAITOR!”

You fired your weapon at your grandfather's shoulders and he groaned in pain as Minho tried to calm you down.

‘I’LL KILL HIM! I SWEAR TO GOD.” You screamed.

“YOU BITCH! Your father was pathetic and couldn’t lead this family. PEACE? UNITY? FOOLISH!”

“You killed my mother!” You cried.

“AND I RAISED YOU BUT YOU HAVE FAILED ME OVER AND OVER AGAIN.” Your grandfather held onto his shoulders as Minho finally felt you calm down.

“Minho should have been the leader. He is capable, smart and dedicated. He would have completed the mission. I always knew your birth was a mistake, begged your father to try again. I put you up to the test, One I knew you couldn’t completed. Of course you couldn’t kill that boy. Women. They catch feelings, act out on their emotions. The cannot lead a family of this caliber. YOU cannot lead this family. Especially now...as you are with child. A child that shares the blood of both Lee and Hwang. Blasphemous.” Your grandfather spat at you and your eyes widened.

“There is nothing that you can hide from me Y/N. And as long as I live, a baby that shares Hwang blood will not be born into this world.”

You looked at your grandfather, overwhelmed and shocked. You were heartbroken because you couldn't believe that this whole life of yours had also been a lie and controlled by this man. You felt the pain in the pit of your stomach.

“Minho.” Your grandfather sternly said. Minho looking at you gleaned over to your grandfather and nodded, “You will perform an execution of Y/N.”

“Grandfather I cannot....” Minho began and Grandfather roared.

“You will do as I SAY. The night of the battle, we will go into execution of the real traitor of this family. The network will not allow this baby to be born. I will not allow this. Death is our option.”

A/N Aaaaaaaand that’s it! JK, we are going into the final chapters. I hope you are all ready. As always thank you for reading, let me know how you feel! Love you all very much.

Taglist: @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia@minaamhh @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful @huntressfrost25 @exonations @p0t4t0don14ll @beaann

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writingforyourpleasure · 3 years

Text

IHTCW part II

Genre: NonIdol!AU, SummerJob!AU

Part II of

Pairing: OT7 x Reader - focus Yoongi x reader- Namjoon x reader

Summary: You do car wash as a summer job each year. But this year , 7 new employees are added to the mix.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut

______

So apparently taehyung idea worked … which to say the least surprised you a lot.

Everyday since the photoshoot , with the boys , which was two weeks ago now. For which you took the pictures not wanting to be sexualized by some creeps, a ton of groups of girls were coming in and out at every hours of the day , sometimes even going as far as several times a day , apparently not only men could be sexualizing the other gender and be a creep about it. But the boys knew from the start that they’ll be sexualized and were strangely okay with it.

Even you had a hard time not finding them extra hot while doing the photoshoot , you were lucky they staid clothed because you would have been a babbling mess if they did.

Ever since that day you worked much longer than before at the gaz-station being overcome with those new clients. Which meant you were less at home than normal.

Which created a lot of disputes between you and your romantic partner. Tonight had been the last drop for you. They insulted you , so you took the first bag you saw and got some clothes you found not bothering to check what it was and to show it down your bag to take of on your bicycle, getting as far away as possible from this place , you used to call home.

But you really had nowhere to go to be honest. Like most of your friends were living on campus or gone back home to see their relatives for the summer break.

So you drove where you mind took you and it was at Namjoon’s house strangely. You only been there once to help him and the rest of the guys move into this new loft they shared, in was pretty big for students but you figured they had rich families or at least one of them to help them out.

You knocked on the windowed door of the loft trying to make yourself heard but still not wanting to disturb anyone’s sleep surely one of them would still be up right ?

Blue hair came into view and something overtook you , you didn’t cry no. You didn’t need to.

You tears had dry out years ago , right now you wanted to bask into a moment of serenity with whoever could hold you and it was a good thing Namjoon was the one holding you his presence making the silence around you so comfortable and easy to bask into.

You needed this. After what felt several minutes you turned to glance up at him a question on your lips but too tired to ask hoping he would come up with the sentence by himself, he did.

“Do you got a bag to sleep-over ?”

Still being your silent self , too tired of the screams, words and others you made a light sign at your backpack on your bicycle, he understood and leaved the comfort and softness of the hug to go get it for you.

He showed you the way into the house passing by a living room in which Jungkook was sleeping uncomfortably on the couch while facing a lightly blue screens playing some credits of a film .

Namjoon made a shush movement to you, before showing you his bedroom door’s , you remembered from last time.

You entered and the place seemed very calm and like a resting place for your fuzzy mind.

You went to thank Namjoon but saw him going out of his bedroom.

“Were are you going?” You said with a small voice , like a kid getting scared of the monster under their bed.

“I leave you my bed and I’ll took the couch not to disturb you , you look like you could use some sleep.”

“Ple-please don’t … don’t leave me ?” You asked making silent doe eyes over him .

His breath was shortly cut before exhaling and giving in your request . He spread out his magnificent body over the bed and you softly made a sign to ask permission for a cuddle .

He showed you into his chest and for once since a long time your night wasn’t visited by screams and insults. But rather a deep voice and pretty laugh and some blue smoke over it.

The next morning you wake up early , way too early. The harsh 6 am from Namjoon’s alarm clock was staring smugly at you , you tried you really did but no matter what you couldn’t seem to go back to bed . So you leaved the bed and warm embrace of Joon’s arm around you to put a pillow in his arms instead of your frame. With what you hoped was the smallest sounds you tip-toed to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water unfortunately for a dark figure was waiting for you causing a high pitch from your lungs joined by the cold stare of the shadow. You heart start to come back to life once you saw that in front of you for no other than Yoongi, looking at you like you grew to heads.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you, I mean it’s not like I’m the one standing in your kitchen at 6 am unannounced .”

“Christ Yoongi, you have no idea how much you scared me .”

“Well didn’t think it’ll be that soon I’ll hear you scream because of me.”

You rolled your eyes trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights , it wasn’t really your taste of humor but you knew he just tried to lighten up the mood.

“Subtle as ever , I see.”

“I prefer to be cash with someone who I feel attracted to.”

What? He had to be kidding, or were you dreaming and in reality still in Joon’s arms?

“I fear I did not quite get that.” You swallowed a big breath trying to shake your frozen state away.

“Too bad I hate repeating myself” He winked at you . You stood still blushing and you were thanking the lack of light in that moment, not wanting to be teased further by him.

“So what’s up? Why are you doing in my kitchen at 6 am ? Were you missing me that much?”

It kinda shocked you how this very calm man was being so straightforward something you never thought him to be .

But soon enough a sour expression painted your face remembering why you were here in the first place.

Even though the lack of lights Yoongi saw that.

“Do you want me to help out?”

“There’s nothing to be done , I’m afraid.”

You sighs as you made your way to the sink to serve yourself a glass of water.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi was now right in front of you caging him between his two arms on each sides of your hips while they were resting against the sink.

“I-I don’t-“

“I really want to help you out , I’ll be happy to.” He whispered getting closer to you.

“I don’t get it, what-“

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His lips were a few inches away from yours and you could feel the light scent of his morning shave hitting your nostrils as you took a deep breath in.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You asked not leaving his lips from your glance as he licked them purposefully .

“I was thinking I made that point pretty clear.” At that you lashed out your anger on his lips not, giving him a minute to catch on before colliding your lips on his.

There was something pretty aggressive from you directed towards him, well not him really more to the world and how unfair this all was but you had the sensation that he could get it, that he was somewhat as torn up inside as you were . He responded to the kiss pretty fast . But to your shock his kiss wasn’t rushed at all on the contrary it was barely a peck before he moved away from your lips.

“No matter what brought you here, selfishly I’m happy it happened.” And before you knew it his lips find yours again, just caressing yours , being awfully slow, where yours were being more insistent and wanting to speed up. But the clashing of the both were mixing quite well to your delight.

They was something in the way he wanted to calm you down that was very much needed, as if he was saying sorry to your scars and broken heart, as if he could convince your heart to throb once more for someone new , where you were screaming for violence , he was moving in your wounds trying to stitch them up. He was being so calm and overall confident in the good care he was putting you through that might had thought he could be the cure to it all if you hadn’t been so lied to and putting through toxic relationships for so many years before meeting them.

His long skinny fingers found the hem of your shirt delicately brushing it up over your head , standing aside for a few seconds taking in your braless state in admiration and lust .

He licked his lips once again , his expression looking as blank as ever.

He oh so calmy took off Namjoon’s sweatpants falling on his knees, facing your crotch.

Needless to say you were intimidated to found yourself naked in front of the clothed man.

You yelped when he took a lick at your core and an overdramatic sigh at your taste. You were feeling all the blood leave to your head in that instant, your eyes struggling to stay open when is cold breath fanned over your glistening folds of his saliva.

In over just a minute he was making out loudly with your pussy making it clenched at all the pervert sounds the two combined were making.

The obscene sounds of your whimpers and the sounds of Yoongi’s flat tongue against your core were echoing through the walls of the kitchen, and even if your mind was being transported to another place as the fearless moves Yoongi’s tongue was making you try to resist your instincts to close your legs opting against it , and opening them wider for Yoongi hands to roam against.

This truly was the best cunni you ever had. For once your partner wasn’t afraid to use all of the strength he had to satisfy you and without much help you were cumming against his tongue, he hold you in place as your hips buckled against his face.

That’s when the light of the kitchen lightened up to reveal your fucked out face and Yoongi’s wild hair from your hands scratching up against his scalp.

A blushing Taehyung was standing in the hallway leading to the stairs.

In just over a few seconds you were a babbling mess meetings Taehyung’s shocked eyes.

That’s where something you never expected happened right in front of you.

Yoongi got up licking exaggeratedly his lips to stand in front of him and kiss him hungrily.

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strange-lace · 3 years

Text

I've been meaning to write something in response to the spider Wukong design that @winterpower98 and @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off have drawn for my Spider Monkie AU! Also features my ship with this AU of Wukong/Spider Queen/Macaque. So here you go!

But content warning for body horror and brief descriptions of blood! Also has brief spoilers for the season 2 finale.

It felt almost like the end of era to Spider Queen when she and the others ventured back down to their old home to start cleaning things out without the threat of the Lady Bone Demon looming over them all. It was one thing for her to start living on Flower Fruit Mountain with the idea in mind that it is a temporary arrangement but this made it feel all the more permanent to her. The idea of never having to live in the ruins, the constant reminders of her fallen reign, and instead live surrounded by greenery, sunlight, and fresh air…

Well, it made the scars, angry and red from where her skin met the scalding liquid of the brazier, not as difficult to look at.

It was enjoyable in a sense, going through her things for moving. Old spell books, faded robes, half finished blueprints. Having Wukong and Macaque there certainly helped, the two monkeys providing their own brand of commentary that never failed to get a chuckle or exasperated groan from her.

Though that changed once they inevitably had to start clearing out the lab.

Syntax, understandably, chose to start transporting things back to the mountain at that moment, Goliath and Huntsman making the decision to go with him. The former because he was concerned about leaving Syntax alone with how shaken he looked and the latter… well even now, Spider Queen couldn’t quite understand those two’s dynamic. They certainly weren’t as antagonistic towards each other like they used to but that didn’t leave them bickering any less than before.

Even though Spider Queen had long since adjusted to the constant gnawing of guilt, it definitely felt like a jab to the gut to see Syntax as he hurried to leave and be back above ground. Far away from the lab and the memories that came with it.

He was in such a hurry that he had not noticed the screwdriver which he had left on the ground.

A gentle prod from Macaque snapped her out of it.

“Hey, c’mon, let’s get through this old junk quick before someone else gets any ideas, okay?”

She could still hear his screams when the experiments were at their worst. How he was barely coherent afterwards, looking so small and vulnerable as she did her best to make sure he was comfortable. How the pain persisted despite the experiments being a “success” and the burning hatred in the Monkey King’s eyes as he glared her down with Macaque in his arms.

“Right, yes, of course,” she mumbled. Macaque was about to say more before all four of his eyes went wide at the sight of something behind her. Spider Queen turned as quickly as she could with her mechanical spider legs and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Wukong picking up an unused glass tank of her venom that was twice his size.

“Wukong, for all that is heavenly, be careful with that!”

“I got it, I got it! Don’t worry, I’ve carried heavier things than this,” he said as if that actually made either of them feel any better.

To his credit, he kept his balance and grip on the tank well enough that Spider Queen and Macaque felt like they could breathe.

Until he stepped on the same screwdriver that Syntax had accidentally left behind in his rush to leave.

And try as he might, Wukong couldn’t right his balance in time.

Spider Queen swore the world had gone into slow motion in that moment.

The Monkey King landed flat on his back, eyes going wide in horror at the sight of the tank right on top of him. Before he could even move, the tank landed on his body with the glass casing shattering on impact. Without thinking, Spider Queen grabbed Macaque and leaped until they were on the ceiling, far from the reach of the spider venom as it spilled all over Wukong and the lab floor with nothing to contain it anymore.

For a brief moment, they were both silent in horror as Wukong remained motionless before jolting upwards, coughing up a storm.

“Oh gross, I think it got in my mouth!” He sputtered in outrage and Spider Queen let out a sigh of relief. He was still cognizant and not a mindless slave, that was a good sign that the venom didn’t work that way without the spider robots. Perhaps it had become less potent, simply left down here without anyone to maintain it?

That didn’t stop her from insisting that she or Syntax look him over for any possible side effects back on Flower Fruit Mountain, despite the Monkey King’s protests that he was fine. Though, eventually, he caved in.

And to her great relief, there didn’t seem to be any.

“See, what did I tell you? Everything’s fine and I’m fine. You don’t gotta worry about me, that energy is better spent somewhere else.” His eyes wandered towards Macaque as he said that. The monkey demon in question was trying and failing to hide the pain on his face as he rubbed at his back. Spider Queen conceded on that as it looked like she was going to have to brew another muscle relaxer for Macaque and just her luck, they just ran out of the last batch.

“Fine, then help me expend that energy by helping me get the herbs for Macaque’s medicine,” she grumbled, running a hand through her choppy hair. It was still strange, having her hair cut so short to what was a pixie cut, but it was… a welcome change. It also being that way MK did for her while she was recovering and extremely uncomfortable with her hair touching her burn scars helped but… no need to say it out loud.

Wukong followed her lead without any complaint, yet stopped for a second when he felt a weird twinge in his sides. The call of Spider Queen snapped him out of it and rushed to follow her. Yet in the back of Wukong’s mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if that wasn’t just a random pain in his sides.

Almost felt like…

Like something was squirming underneath his skin.

‘Eh, it’s probably nothing to worry about.’ He thought to himself, reaching behind him to scratch at a sudden itch on the back of his neck.

Days passed like normal after that, the permanent move to Flower Fruit Mountain a success, much to his monkeys' chagrin. They were just beginning to warm up to Goliath and were able to be around the others without Wukong having to stop them from pelting the spider demons in fruit. Typically by reminding them that, like it or not, they were also MK’s family and asking them if they wanted to make MK upset by throwing fruit at his mother and “uncles”. That usually did the trick.

Good thing too since Wukong was starting to notice he was feeling… off.

The twinging at his sides had only seemed to worsen in the following days, the sensation escalating from only happening once every two days to it happening three times a day. And while they didn’t become painful, each time it felt like there was more… force behind them every time they happened.

The ignored voice in the back of his head compared it to something almost trying to poke its way free.

Eventually, these “episodes” were enough to stop Wukong from whatever he was doing to try and catch his breath once his sides calmed down. He figured it was only a matter of time until one of his partners confronted him about it. This time being Macaque.

It helped that he had caught Wukong during another one of his “episodes”, this one enough to make him stumble his footsteps and make Macaque rush to catch him before the Monkey King fell ungracefully to the floor.

“Alright Wukong, what’s going on with you?”

A part of Wukong wanted to insist that it was nothing but a passing thing. But passing sensations don’t last this long.

Something was wrong.

“Remember when I dropped that vat of Queenie’s spider venom on me and she didn’t find anything wrong with me?” Horrifying realization came to Macaque’s face at that question, all four of his eyes immediately looking over Wukong for anything out of the ordinary.

“I don’t like where this is going Peaches.”

“Well… a bit ago I started feeling something odd in my sides. Like somebody was poking me. It didn’t really hurt so I thought it was no big deal and would go away on its own, y’know? It… it hasn’t gone away. In fact it’s been happening more often and getting stronger.” As he spoke, Wukong lightly rubbed at his sides, not looking directly at Macaque out of guilt.

“Peaches, I love you, but why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I thought I could handle it on my own! And we have more important things to worry about than me, like you and Queenie, y’know the people who aren’t indestructible and-” He was cut off by a light smack behind the head from Macaque, the demon looking exasperated and frustrated more than anything else.

“You idiot, just because you’re indestructible doesn’t mean that you should have kept this from SQ and me. God, you sound like the kid. We have no idea how the venom could impact your systems compared to me and now who knows what we’ll find. C’mon, we’re having Queen look at you again, no arguments.”

Wukong couldn’t find it in himself to protest. Only hope that it was merely them all being paranoid and stressed.

Those hopes promptly went out the window when Spider Queen had him take off his shirt.

On each side of his torso underneath his arms were two pairs of lumps, each the size of his palm and seemed to almost twitch when she had cautiously prodded at them to feel for bone. He was worried for a moment that everyone was going to see the peaches he had just eaten as nausea squirmed within his stomach.

“This is not good, pretty sure these same exact kind of bumps developed too when we…” Spider Queen trailed off, eyes lingering on Macaque who didn’t need to say anything to show that he understood what she meant. “But this doesn’t make any sense, it took weeks for them to develop at this stage and yet it’s been little more than a week, barely two.” She looked extremely frazzled, trying to make sense of this. Syntax didn’t look any better himself, lime green hair a tousled mess compared to its usual put-together appearance.

“It could be a case of biology, my queen. Wukong’s biology is… incomprehensible to put it politely. With all the methods put into extending his immortality and Macaque’s own biology, it would be pointless to try and compare them and their reactions to the venom. And with how fast these limbs seem to be developing in comparison, it may have already been too late to use the antivenom the moment his skin made contact and he ingested the venom,” he rambled yet Wukong didn’t miss the look of sympathy sent his way at that final statement.

Wukong felt numbness, not sure how to process knowing it was too late for him from the get go.

The sensation of something squirming hitting him again and knowing that it was new limbs developing right under his ribs only made his nausea worse.

He barely noticed Macaque gently pulling him into a hug until his face was buried in coarse purple fur, four arms holding him while the monkey demon nuzzled his cheek.

“Hey, look on the bright side, Peaches. It’s looking like you won’t be growing any new eyes like me. Can’t get any worse than that, right?” Wukong could only give him a small, fond smile that could not even begin to communicate his exhaustion, fear, but relief that Macaque was at least trying to comfort him. For a brief moment, he felt a bit calmer and wasn’t bathed in dread about what was inevitably about to come.

That temporary peace was shattered the moment Wukong felt a stabbing sensation in his sides.

A pain which only seemed to intensify by the second.

He had to leave. Now.

“I-I’m so-sorry, I have to-” Wukong cut himself with a scream of pain as it spiked for a brief moment to a level that his mind was only white hot agony. He stumbled out of Macaque’s embrace and ran off, no clear destination in mind except that he needed to be away.

He could faintly hear Macaque and Spider Queen calling for him to come back, yet he didn’t listen.

The trees blurred as he ran past them and he stumbled into the first temple, nearly tripping on the stone steps and slamming the door behind him. In his blind, pain-filled panic he was able to pile the dusty and old furniture in front of the door to keep anybody out before the pain left him to fall to his knees. Wukong struggled to breath, his lungs feeling like they were on fire.

He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Wukong could only open his mouth in a silent scream of pain, writhing on the floor in a poor attempt to alleviate his suffering. White hot pain ran down his spine as it felt like someone was pulling at it like taffy, skin stretching and organs rearranging underneath his flesh. He gasped in air once the unbearable heat seemed to recede only to let out a groan as it traveled down to his legs. Wukong swore that he could hear the bones in his legs creaking as they grew and thickened, muscles following their lead to fortify them as if ready to carry a great weight.

He sighed, feeling like he could breathe again while noticing that his clothes didn’t feel right anymore.

The brief moment of peace was shattered as Wukong was overtaken by pure agony as he felt something trying to push through his sides.

This time, he couldn’t hold in the screech that bellowed from his lungs.

Spider Queen and Macaque, desperately searching for Wukong, nearly jumped out of their skin as a roar of distress echoed through the forests of Flower Fruit Mountain. They two shared a silent look before running off in the direction of the sound’s origin, his ears leading the way as they twitched to and fro to track their idiot partner down.

“It came from here, I can hear him inside,” Macaque said yet the grim look on his face told her that that wasn’t all. The door didn’t budge when she attempted to pull it open, something heavy on the other side. Rapidly losing patience knowing that Wukong was on the other side and already in the throes of the transformation, Spider Queen felt she could be forgiven about what she needed to do next.

She stepped back before charging at the doors, her shoulder taking the brunt of force.

The fact that she caused the makeshift barricade on the other side to go flying across the temple was of no concern to her. The sight of Wukong curled up in a fetal position on the floor was.

“Peaches!” “Peachykins!”

They were both at his side in an instant, Macaque gently taking the Monkey King off the floor. Immediately he could feel something had changed. Wukong was taller, heavier in his arms.

Gods if that didn’t bring back memories he’d much rather bury.

“You shouldn’t… you two shouldn’t be here,” Wukong wheezed, voice raspy for obvious reasons.

“Quiet you, if you think for a second that we were going to let you deal with this alone, then it seems that venom messed with your brain too. I wasn’t alone for this, so neither should you.” Spider Queen nodded in agreement, running his fingers through his fur in her best attempt to offer him comfort.

Wukong whimpered as the heat and pressure against his sides seemed to grow and grow. Faintly in the back of his head, he could feel that wasn’t the only thing changing. Peach fur darkened as it grew thicker and longer into what was practically a mane. His claws became longer and sharper. For a moment, his entire world was bathed in green instead of gold before his vision returned to normal.

He should feel horrified, to feel himself changing, shifting without any sort of control or way to stop it in front of his partners to add salt to the wound. Feel helpless, powerless, weak.

Yet all that remained on the forefront of his mind was the pain.

“You’re doing amazing Wukong, I promise it’ll be over soon.”

“You just need to hold on a bit longer.”

Just when the pressure and heat had become borderline unbearable and Wukong was on the cusp of passing out, he could just barely hear the sound of ripping past the pounding in his ears.

Cloth ripping as well as something else. Something wet.

Macaque and Spider Queen were knocked back by the force of something punching its way out of the Monkey King's sides, their backs meeting the opposing sides of the room.

Wukong could feel blood dripping down his sides and his entire being ached, not too different from when he had been freed from under the mountain after 500 years. And yet all he could feel was sweet relief, body already working over time to heal his wounds and stop the bleeding. Letting himself a moment to breathe, he cautiously pulled himself up into a sitting position.

Or at least tried, as he fumbled back to the floor the moment he saw just how much his body changed.

Evidently even his “biology” felt the need to one up Macaque as Wukong tested his four new arms. He couldn’t help but mourn the fate of his clothes as it was obvious they were a lost cause, his shirt nothing but scraps of cloth barely able to contain his broader chest and orange stained with red. His pants, while not torn, were now much too short to cover his legs entirely. He could feel that his phoenix feather headdress had managed to get tangled up the much thicker fur which trailed from his head.

Cautiously, he began to move his new appendages. His limbs were clumsy but he slowly began to get the hang of it, belatedly noticing that the fur of his new arms got progressively paler. The second pair more closer resembled his old fur color while the third pair was pure white, all the colors converging around his sides. Or at least it looked like that, since the fur of his sides was sticky and caked with dried blood which stained it a dark red.

Groans of pain pulled him back to focus to see Spider Queen and Macaque pulling themselves off the floor, nursing bumps on the back of their heads from colliding with the walls.

“You… two alright?” His voice was still scratchy and now he had exhaustion weighing on his eyelids.

“Bit of a bump but we’ll live. Shouldn't have been so close honestly. What about you Peachykins?” Spider Queen asked, offering her hand to help him up while trying not to stare at the dried blood crusting his fur. Without hesitation, Wukong took her hand and let himself be lifted back on to his feet. He winced, muscles aching both old and new ones and started to try stretching out the new kinks in his spine.

Spider Queen meanwhile blushed at the fact that she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes now, doing her best to not stare at his muscled and bare chest. Macaque was no better as his eyes looked over Wukong's form, though he had the benefit of fur to hide his flushed cheeks. Their eyes met and they both came to a similar conclusion.

They were doomed.

"Feels weird and I ache all over but…" Wukong gave them both a slow grin once he noticed that he had to look down to see them both, "I think I could get used to this. Got a feeling you guys don't have a problem with it either, am I right?"

Oh they were so doomed.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lego monkie kid spoilers #spider monkie au #three bastardeers shipping #sun wukong #spider queen #macaque #my writing #fanfiction

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bvccy · 4 years

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Nothing to Despair | Preview 2 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

WARNINGS: Just nightmares and hurt/comfort, MORE ANGST

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: It's been 84 years and the fic is still not done, so have another preview. I didn't wanna post more, and this is a rough version, but then N I G H T M A R E S happened and NEW GIFS I was just bouncing to contribute so here, have this. Ironically, it's not Bucky having the nightmare in my fic, it's the reader/MC having one and being comforted by him, but still gonna take advantage of this lovely gif <3

She was running aimlessly away, but he was always behind her. She could hear him catching up, and if she turned her head she could see him coming closer, and his angry heaving breath was almost right behind her, and then she woke up.

Laying in bed frozen stiff with fear, her eyes took in the darkness of — oh, her hotel room at the Grand Continental in Cer. She stood up in bed and looked around: safe, quiet, and if she tried to remember her dream she already couldn't. She picked up her phone on the bedside table, fiddling with the Stark tech to see the time: 3:36 AM.

The fear was so intense she thought she would die if she didn't hold another person, right now. She had never felt anything like this in her life: not when falling out of a tree, not when flying, not when she got the mission from Steve, not when Bucky cornered her…

Bucky. He was sleeping in the other room. If she could just — No. He would either laugh at her for being silly or resent her for waking him up. She could almost hear him now: "You woke me up, for this? Take it like a big girl and go back to bed."

But there's never been a fear like this… in her blood and her bones, and her mind and underneath it. Through the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart thrumming, and though she knew it was impossible, a part of her mind was certain there was someone there with her, waiting, ready to —

It took three minutes of hugging herself in bed and trying, uselessly, to not be scared to absolute death before her heart won over her head and she stepped lightly to Bucky's room. She didn't even knock, she scratched at the door lightly. If he was awake, he'd hear it; if he wasn't, she won't wake him up.

No response. When she turned the handle slowly and inched the door open enough to poke her head through, only then did Bucky stir in bed. She could just make out the shape of him through the light from the window.

As he groaned sleepily and shifted in his sheets to get up, she wasn't sure if he was upset with her or not, and it didn't escape her notice how his hand went underneath the pillow — a weapon hidden there, most likely — but then he spoke into the dark and sounded gentle, if groggy.

"That you, doll?"

"Yeah… Can I come in?" she whispered, clinging to the door and trembling.

"Something happen?" asked Bucky, practically awake already.

"No, nothing, but — " How to tell him, how to explain a reason as dumb as this?

He was sitting up in bed by now, rubbing his face with his flesh hand, and then he looked right at her. "Come on in."

She stepped through gratefully but still ashamed, holding onto herself in her flimsy nightgown as she padded to his large bed. As she got closer, she could finally see him: soft hair ruffled, a stubble just barely grown, a plain white tank top stretching across his chest and the hint of scarring around the left shoulder.

His eyes looked curiously up at her, even worried. She hated depending on him, or anyone, and he'd noticed it. So when she looked at him pleadingly from beside his bed, he looked ready to listen, and to do almost anything.

"This is so stupid but —"

"Tell me."

"I'm really sorry to bothe—"

"It's ok, just tell me."

"I had a nightmare please don't laugh at me."

He wordlessly lifted the duvet and patted the bed for her to lie down.

She got in quickly and, before she could think of whether it was the smart thing to do, snuggled up into his body, her face at his neck and knees brushing against his stomach. She had enough control to keep her arms folded to her chest and didn't grab onto him, although she wanted to. Her heart was still beating powerfully away, her ribs and neck pulsing with its rhythm, her breath near panting.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's ok." he shushed her, one heavy arm going up to tuck her in then staying curled around her, braced against her back on top of the covers.

"This never happened before." she whispered apologetically. "I think I'll be fine in… a few minutes."

"Get the adrenaline out of your body, I know."

She paused and wondered if she should ask, then decided. "You get like this too?"

"Night terrors? Yeah, used to have them a while."

"I don't think it's a night terror… Not really."

"Good." he breathed into her hair, a touch away from a kiss.

It made sense why he'd be so sympathetic. He probably understood what she was going through better than she did, and suddenly she was filled with pity at the thought of him going through that alone — that and even worse, which was unimaginable. She snuggled in just slightly closer, but this time it was not for her own sake, and she regretted, with the strength of real guilt, that she did not know him sooner, that she couldn't be there for him when he needed someone —

"H-how did you get over yours?"

— if, in fact, he didn't have someone already.

"Slowly."

She sighed and rubbed her knuckles against his chest, the closest thing to a caress she could manage, and all around her she felt him freeze for a second in an intake of breath.

"M-must've been some nightmare." to get you to cuddle with me, he left unsaid. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." she sighed. "I already forgot it. But this fear, it's not going away…"

"It's quite something, isn't it." Bucky softly said, the arm around her back moving slightly to brush a thumb over her shoulder in slow, caressing motions.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, feeling surrounded by his warmth as his chin rested lightly on top of her head, both of them melting into the pillows. Slowly, her fear left her, and she became aware of the scent of him burning her up from the inside, sharp and spicy and just a bit sweet, and how she could just about hear his heartbeat, and his breathing, and how she had never seen that much of his naked skin before — though she barely could at all in the dark.

His fingers started making circles over her shoulder, lazy and absentminded, and she had to bury the mournful thought that this was the first time she'd ever felt anything like it.

Bucky pulled her imperceptively closer, bit by bit as the tension left her, and soon the back of her curled hands fell to rest against his chest, her knuckles pressed against a naked patch of skin. She felt him inhale sharply at the contact, and underneath his sheets she too trembled at the quiet tenderness.

"Don't worry, doll." he breathed into her hair. "I'll keep you safe."

She must have dozed off at some point. She became aware of Bucky's hand now hung around her hip, her own arm flung around what measure of him she could reach. Her head was resting on his broad chest and one leg was curled on top of his underneath the blankets. He seemed sound asleep, breathing softly beneath her, head tilted toward her as the faintest sliver of morning light shone through the curtains.

Without moving her head much, she looked up at his face. Bucky seemed more grim asleep than he did awake, his delicately drawn mouth resting in a frown, his brows low and with a hint of tension, his unshaven cheeks scruffy and dark. He must've put on a bit of a show to seem cheerful in front of her, when he did…

She let her eyes lick across his figure, down his thick neck, the stretch of tough skin, and the chest with the hint of hair peeking from underneath the tank top. She breathed in the warm scent of him and suddenly the feeling of his arm gripping her waist, even in the gentleness of sleep, was overwhelming.

There was too much of him, too close, too trusting, too intimate, so wide open just for her, and the inescapable hint of his affection distressed her: with how impossible it was, with how demanding it promised to be.

Slowly, she lifted her cheek off his chest and slinked away, his hot hand scraping across her figure as she went and stepped backwards onto the floor, trying to move the bed as little as possible. She looked at the watch on the bedside table: 4:55 AM.

Tip-toeing away, she left his room and closed the door with the faintest click she could manage.

Bucky opened his eyes to find his bed empty, the room quiet and just light enough for shadows to stretch across the length of it. It was just like every other morning but somehow, through her presence the night before, she'd taken something away. It's not like he'd hoped to wake up to her in his arms. Of course not. That would be silly.

His hand moved over the sheets: cold. She probably left as soon as he fell asleep. It was amazing enough that she had come at all, but then again he had an idea of how her nightmare made her feel; if hers were anything like his, she'd have gone to just about anyone. Even… Don't finish that thought.

He turned in bed, his back to where she'd been, facing the windows and the balcony glass doors beyond which the crowns of far trees swung in the morning air, big and beflowered and brimming with birds. It was, in every other way, a beautiful morning.

And things were so close to being perfect. He had her there, he'd held her in his arms, he'd been given the chance to be good to her, and wanted, and there when she needed him, and over it all hung the cloud of wonder at what a rare person he had found in her. Yes, she was a bit sullen sometimes and unassuming, but he realised those things were what he liked so much about her, that opening to being cared for so precisely shaped for what he had to give.

She wasn’t like the women he remembered from before; she didn’t try to make herself seem softer or sharper or more cheerful than she was, with a carefully curled mane of hair or an impossibly fertile figure, nor was her every gesture an invitation to flirt. She was dull and tender by comparison, a little sensitive and a bit sad, like a girl that never grew up but who, with so small a twist, might suddenly become beautiful.

When he pushed aside his guilts and longings, Bucky was grateful for all those little faults she had. He knew that if she poured her energies into seduction, she could be terrifying and irresistible. So he decided that he liked her distant and sullen and shy, even if it kept her from him. If anything, it only made him like her more, long for her more, want her for his own flawed self; take his pity, that her pride couldn't stand, and turn it into the most dedicated caring.

But he wondered was was wrong with her — what was wrong with him for her. She could hardly stand more than a few seconds' touch from him, like a raw nerve. Did she just not like the way he looked, or walked? Or the things he said, or how he treated her, or talked? Was it the arm? Was it his age? Was it who he was?

All of these were plausible, but somehow it felt like he was missing something. She wasn't just indifferent, she was so deliberately distant it almost seemed calculated. And she didn't just decide to avoid him, he realised: she did it instinctively. Her body reacted first, and she followed. At the periphery of these unhappy thoughts was the pitying realisation that she'd had practice.

Bucky wasn't heartbroken by her tacit rejections, of course not, he wasn't that far gone yet (but there was no way his was the first heart she'd broken).

He thought back to how she was around other men. Charming, more cheerful, joking and flirty but still, in the end, distant. All the teasing jokes distracted from her, all deep conversations distracted from her, all heartfelt consolations distracted from her, every incline of her body faced away.

After only a few minutes, Bucky relented and turned, burying his face into the pillow she'd slept on. It actually still smelled faintly of her hair. It was so specific to her and so comforting, her perfume mixed with something sweet and cloying and just a touch salty, it made his mouth water and his loins burn.

He rolled onto his back, lifted the sheets off his body, and looking down he noticed the state of himself.

"Down, boy." he sighed. "She's not here anymore."

Bucky rolled out of bed and got ready for his morning push-ups. They always made him feel better… Maybe he could add another couple hundred today.

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mooniefics · 4 years

Text

bye bc i have not been able to get the thought of like,, you working as the candidate manager for the warrior program (aka glorified babysitter / school counselor) and reiner slowly falling for u over the years

— you’d first met him around a month after he returned from paradis, after he was finally debriefed and given countless ideological assessments, and he was just exhausted by the time he was finally allowed to see his family again but he still woke up early the next day to go with gabi to training. he saw how happily gabi greeted you, how warmly you smiled back, and he thought that if anyone was taking care of his little cousin over the years he was gone, he was grateful that it was someone who came off as nicely as you did.

— your first conversation initiated after gabi dragged him over by the arm and introduced the two of you herself, but you didn’t get to speak long before you all had to go your separate ways. the way you tucked a piece of gabi’s hair behind her ear and gingerly wrapped your arm around her as you led her off to her classes for the day makes his heart flutter.

— you two made small talk when you ran into each other, sometimes talking about the kids, sometimes talking about yourselves, nothing terribly personal, but he always found himself feeling much lighter after he got to see you.

— reiner accompanied you once when you chaperoned the kids’ recreational time in town and sat on the bench beside you while you both watched them all play around at the park you usually took them too. your voice was soft and affectionate as you told him that you sometimes forgot that they were just children, letting it slip that you couldn’t help but feel disheartened that they had been made to grow up so fast. you were worried that he, the one revered as the most loyal warrior, would report you for disrespecting the methods of marley, but he only sighed, smiling sadly as he replied, “me too.”

— one day when the kids were training, you and the warriors were standing to the side watching them, discussing casually amongst yourselves as you watched them run laps with all their gear. on the last go around, udo fell flat on his face, and before reiner can even turn to see your reaction, you were already running over to make sure he was okay. the exercise instructor forced you to wait for udo to make it to the end on his own, but as soon as he reached finish line, you rushed him away into the main school building. when you didn’t return for a few minutes, reiner ventured in to see where you’d gone, he found you both in an empty classroom—you kneeling in front of udo, handkerchief in hand, gently wiping the tears and dirt from his cheeks and telling him that he had done a good job, that everybody makes a mistake once in a while, that he was just as capable as the other candidates. he stood beside the door, listening to you comfort udo, feeling his own eyes watering as he did. he wished he had someone like you when he was young.

— the first time the two of you had a proper, in-depth conversation was the evening that the mid-east allied forces had declared war against marley, the only two left at the privacy of his quarters, sharing the last bottle of wine leftover between yourselves. the facade of perfect patriotism that you had both been careful to maintain had dissipated, whether because of the alcohol or because of the gravity of such impending doom weighing at your hearts. he’d learned that you’d been apart of the warrior program yourself, an unselected trainee in the class just a year below his own. you told him that was how you’d managed to secure yourself this position, but he said that it was much more than that, that you were a natural at a position that require such patience and compassion. the way your lips had turned up into the smallest of smiles made his cheeks flushed.

“i heard the war is going to be mostly naval. i doubt we’ll have to worry about any of us being shipped out to fight any time soon.”

you took a long sip from your glass, finishing off what remained, taking in a deep, pensive breath. “god forbid they send any of those kids away to the battlefield. god forbid they send you away.”

“me?” he said after a moment of silence, an odd sort of tightness cinching around his heart and lungs, squeezing tighter with every fine detail he noticed in your sorrowful expression—warm eyes filled with sympathy, mouth drawn down into a delicate frown, brow slightly knitted.

“you’ve seen enough. you’ve gone through enough, more than anyone should have to go through by themselves.”

reiner felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, an almost tangible ache echoing through his chest. that was the first time someone had ever told him that before.

— despite the worsening tension of war, reiner saw that you were just as cheerful as ever with the kids, bringing them sweets and desserts you made yourself when you got the chance, taking them out on their weekly outings and making sure they were doing alright just as normal. but he could see the way your face would shift when one of them piped up with something regarding the current battle being waged, spouting out the same propaganda he’d been force-fed for his entire life. you would only smile, patting them on the shoulder or rubbing their back, responding with a simple assertion that you were sure marley’s troops were doing great out there before changing the subject

“they’re so young. sometimes i forget they’re only children.”

your words from the park bench flitted across his mind, the words that you silently spoke when your eyes widened at gabi’s proclamation that marley’s glory would forever prevail, or when your lips pursed briefly at the four of them squabbling over who would inherit which titan.

“they’re too small to be holding such big weapons. those rifles they give them are taller than they are. it’s.. it’s...”

perverse? distressing? horrible? it was all of those things, and so much more. but you saw it. you didn’t egg them on like porco or zeke, you congratulated them without drenching it in more and more lies. you didn’t see them as soldiers-in-training, you didn’t see them as warriors, you saw them as they were. as children. you cared for them like he did.

— when the time came, you were shipped off to fort slava alongside the warrior unit, your training and your extensive experience working with the candidates for the past five years serving as the justification for your necessity. though reiner had wished to be around you more often, he didn't at all enjoy it in this context. seeing you in a full soldier’s uniform, skin dusted with dirt and gunpowder, a helmet that only seemed to have more and more dents and scratches in the metal with each day that passed—it felt so incredibly wrong. you didn’t belong in the trenches of war, and yet he still saw you running about every morning, previously soft hands becoming roughened and scarred, growing thinner and thinner from the stress and minuscule rations that were barely enough to get everyone through the day. and yet you were lively, still tending to the kids and attempting to give them a space away from the warfare outside when you could all retire to the unit’s dugout at night.

— one night, reiner had woken from his sleep and was too restless to return to it, unable to ignore the distant sounds of gunfire and shouts from outside, staring up at the ceiling from his bunk and allowing himself to drift away into his thoughts. he remembered all the nights he’d spent like this in his own home as a child, barely able to force himself to sleep for a few hours despite knowing that he had another long day of training ahead of him. but he turned over on his mattress at the sound of soft murmuring, the sound of sheets shifting and the quiet protest of the flimsy bed frames squeaking. in the dimness of the lantern that sat at the foot of gabi’s bunk, he saw you seated at her bedside, looking down at her as you spoke.

“are you okay? do you want me to wake up reiner?”

he couldn’t make out gabi’s mumbled response, but he saw the small silhouette of her head shaking from side to side on her pillow.

“i know he’s been looking tired lately, but i promise that he won’t be upset if we wake him up for a moment.”

another unintelligible reply from the young girl just barely occupied the air. a part of him wanted to step out of his bunk and see what she needed, but another, more persuasive thought kept him still, laying silently, watching on to see how you would tend to her. he knew that gabi admired you deeply, the fact that you’d managed to win her over was something that impressed him, but at the same time didn’t surprise him at all. he couldn’t imagine how anyone could dislike someone as gentle and thoughtful as you.

“you’re a big girl, gabi, so am i. but that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little bit of help sometimes. it’s scary out here, and i’m so proud of you for holding your own out there. it’s okay to be scared.”

you were quiet for a moment, allowing for gabi to speak, a hand reaching out to gently stroke the side of her head and run through her hair. a quiet, genuine laugh slipping from you when she concluded.

“i promise i won’t tell anyone. i’ll get back to my bunk as soon as you get back to sleep. deal?”

he caught the end of an affirmative nod from his cousin, and the two of you fell silent. you stood for a moment to tuck the covers around her, sitting back down and returning to your soothing motions, looking almost like a dream in the glow of the soft illumination at your side.

he realized in that moment what that feeling in his chest was, the one that made his throat tighten just the slightest bit, that made him feel light as air for those few fleeting moments before the spell of you in his gaze was broken by some menial interruption. but the interruption didn’t come this time, nothing to remind him to bury his feelings and not ruminate on them long enough to figure out exactly what they were. he had been running from this revelation for far too long, and he knew exactly why—because it would be unfair to burden you with these feelings that he knew he shouldn’t have.

he loved how you made him feel. he loved seeing how cheerful you were even when it was too early in the morning for him to even be properly awake himself. he loved seeing how you smiled when the children hung onto you on your days out. he loved that you could see the appalling indoctrination of marley’s military might on it’s citizens for what it was. he loved how you saw him for more than his failure four years ago. he loved how tender you looked stroking his younger cousin’s hair, assuring her that you wouldn’t leave her until she was fast asleep. he loved you, honestly and wholeheartedly.

it was a selfish desire, a longing that he would have to keep to himself for your sake. but, in moments like these, where the vision of having something more seemed so close to his outstretched grasp, the thought of sharing his final years together rather than in a respectful coexistence, he found it so difficult to resist temptation.

if only he had more time.

24 / 7 reiner brainrot. i have an unfathomable amount of love for this man ( ; ω ; )

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #reiner braun snk #reiner braun drabble

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 3 years

Note

I really liked reading your fics of Lotor watching movies! Do you think Lotor would like watching Atlantis or lilo and stitch? And who would he watch them with? (Hopefully either Allura or Pidge)

Movie Time with TSL Lotor – Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

It was a cold and rainy morning on the planet of Olkarion, with an emaciated Galran prince swaddled in blankets on the floor of the paladin’s lounge room. Lotor still wore his night robe and Earth-fashion pajamas, his white hair disheveled from sleep. He yawned. His face pulled tight with his harvesting scars, and his long fangs gleamed in the lamplight. He tiredly scratched at his cheek. “Why did you wake me so early, little one?”

Across the room, a pajama-clad Pidge sat cross-legged, plugging in a few cables. “Because. It’s Saturday.”

The bleary-eyed man blinked. “I know not what a Saturday is.”

She looked up, readjusting her glasses. “It’s the day where people get up to eat cereal and binge-watch cartoons. Like a tradition. My brother and I used to do this all the time. And sometimes my dad too, but he slept in a lot.” Her face twisted in a pout. “And everyone here sleeps in for, like, ever.”

“Even the princess?”

“Even the princess.”

Lotor’s gaze slid to the container of milk, courtesy of Kaltenecker, and then to the sacred box of—he narrowed his gaze curiously—frosted cheerios. Pidge had procured two bowls and two little spoons. He raised his nose and sniffed delicately. The box smelled of sweetness and grains, and saliva swarmed through his mouth in anticipation of food. Beneath the blankets, he scratched at his stomach. Wakefulness began to seep through him at the thought of eating and watching more animated drawings from Earth. “You wish to share in this…tradition with me, then?”

“You were sleeping out here on the couch,” Pidge deadpanned, giving him a look, “so you were gonna share in it no matter what.” A small emotion came over her. She glanced down, returning to connecting the cables. “And my brother’s still off-planet, so you’ll have to do.”

He huffed in amusement. “I am a companion of convenience, then. A replacement brother.”

“Yeah, something like that.” She began to scoot away from the cables, grabbing for her cereal bowl.

Lotor quirked a brow. His blanket shifted around him as he picked up the remaining bowl, mimicking her actions. “What is the topic of today’s entertainment adventure?” He watched curiously as she dumped cereal into her bowl and filled it with milk. And then he followed in kind, hesitantly dipping his spoon into the concoction and biting down.

His slit pupils dilated at the sweet taste.

His fangs crunched down loudly.

Pidge munched more quietly, but her lips stretched as she moved to turn on the movie. “It’s called Atlantis: The Lost Empire.”

Lotor’s elfin ears flicked in interest. “Lost empire?” he repeated curiously, voice muffled by cereal.

As the movie began to play, Pidge’s face brightened. “The whole movie involves an old human legend, about this advanced civilization that sunk under the sea in a sudden cataclysm.”

“Fascinating.” His explorer’s heart lifted in excitement, the sleeping disappearing fully from his eyes. In that moment, it did not matter to him that he was 10,000 years old or watching something that was most assuredly meant for children and families. “Does the legend have any form of validity?”

“Well, being mentioned by Plato, who was a real philosopher—” she pointed to the screen to the opening quote—“has made people search all over for it. But so far, nothing’s proven because there’s a lot of sunken cities on Earth.” She paused. “The movie definitely takes some creative license with ancient human tech, too. Like, ancient humans did not fly in fish ships.”

“I see.” Lotor crunched down happily on the cereal, eyes wide. The screen brightened with the cartoon colors of human animation. Strange, fish-like planes streaked through a blue sky in a panic. Lotor instinctively leaned along with the framing of the movie, as if he were on the ships as well. “Calamity is rather fun to indulge in when it’s not real.”

“I know, right?” Pidge grabbed onto her blanket, wrapping it around her.

And the two remained sitting on the floor of the great lounge, increasingly lost in the tale of Atlantis.

***

It was at some point after Milo Thatch’s introduction that Lotor hesitantly spoke up, his voice catching oddly. “This animation.” He tried again. “I thought you said once that humans were unaware of the planet Altea.”

Pidge pushed up her glasses, still cradling her cereal bowl in her lap. “Yep. Didn’t know about it at all.”

Lotor puzzled at the screen. He hummed, setting his cereal bowl down on his lap. “This Atlantis bears significant similarities to Altean technology and to its people, down to being significantly advanced even ten-thousand years ago.”

The human girl blinked. And then her face twisted in a mischief. “Oh, yeah. It might have more similarities than you think.” She began to waggle her bows. “Including to a certain Altean princess.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Also, you kinda remind me of Milo,” she declared. “Just saying.”

His eyes slit further in consternation, for at that moment, the somewhat bumbling but intelligent character of Milo Thatch was sitting in a water puddle after his museum colleagues rejected his proposal. For good measure, Lotor crunched down on another bite of cereal. “I may enjoy ancient history,” he declared, voice muffled, “but I am not as scrawny as he.”

Pidge poked him hard in his ribs, which still jutted out beneath his sleeping robe. “You’re right. You’re scrawnier.”

Lotor flinched away, shooting her a playfully dark glare. “A temporary consequence of being harvested by the witch. I will reclaim my health, and then you will regret making fun of me so.”

Her face split in a wicked smile. “Nah. You’re definitely Milo. Muscle can’t hide that you’re a nerd.”

He sputtered, waving his cereal spoon. “And what of you? With your books and codes. And cat memes.”

“Oh, I’m a nerd,” she declared. “I just own it proudly.”

The fallen prince ate of his cereal in a light disgruntlement. He watched Milo as the character awkwardly stumbled through meeting a busty blond human woman and then a spastic old man in a bathrobe—his objective always set on discovering the secrets of Atlantis and its sources of power.

Milo Thatch owned a cat too.

Lotor’s face began to heat in realization that he did have a lot in common with this strange human man.

***

By the time the character Milo Thatch met the Princess Kida of Atlantis, a real princess had sleepily trailed into the movie room. Allura’s long, pink robes slipped against the tiles of the halls, her curls a tumble down her shoulders. She yawned and proceeded to stumble her way over to Lotor and Pidge.

With little preamble, she flopped over them.

Pidge barely managed to raise her bowl of frosted cheerios in time, squawking. Lotor froze entirely as Allura’s white curls spilled across his lap—her warm cheek leaning against his leg.

“It’s too early for movies,” the princess whined lightly. She snuggled against him and wiggled a bit to get comfortable, laying across two bodies. “I could hear the sound all the way from my room.” Lotor’s attention split from the animated Princess Kida to the living, breathing princess in his lap. His elfin ears flicked back, and his sharp cheeks heated.

Pidge grumped and tried to shove her off.

The princess did not budge, save for a grump right back.

Lotor had long finished off his bowl of frosted cheerios—leaving not even a drop of milk in his wake. But he carefully pushed the bowl further away, in fear that her hair would end up in it. “We are watching Atlantis: The Lost Empire,” he murmured to her, voice straining. “Would you not like to watch it with us?”

Allura made a noncommittal noise, appearing to fall back asleep, the lines in her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled deeply. The action suggested she had grown to trust him a great deal, for the back of her neck lay bare where her hair had parted.

Lotor swallowed hard.

He turned to look at Pidge, who had sighed and given up trying to push Allura off—instead, she’d moved to accept Allura’s robe as something of a blanket and had rested her arms over the back of the princess’s legs.

Lotor hesitated, knowing that the paladins often piled upon each other as a means of displaying familial affection.

As Milo Thatch moved to swim alongside Princess Kida in search of the Heart of Atlantis, Lotor moved to brush his fingers against the waves of Allura’s curls.

It was a soft, hesitant action—testing the waters of her trust. She made a soft noise in response, her lips sleepily stretching. Her elfin ear flicked lightly as the calloused pads of his fingers ran over it. The action itself meant things to Alteans and Galrans, for only family and lovers touched one’s ears.

The princess nuzzled against him.

His heart skipped. Careful of his claws, he continued to toy with her hair as he turned his attention back to the movie, in which Milo’s very interest in Atlantis had now endangered the Royal Atlantean family.

Lotor bit his lip, feeling a great protectiveness for Allura wash over him.

***

The movie indicated that Atlanteans received their power from a great, sentient crystal—the animation of which was not unlike pure quintessence.

“Do you think,” Lotor asked quietly to Pidge, “that it is possible your Atlantis was real, and that some piece of a quintessence-rich substance—a comet, perhaps—landed upon your Earth?”

Pidge looked over at him, readjusting her glasses in interest. “I suppose it would be possible, but you’re suggesting then that Atlantis is real. And that the power in this movie is real.”

“How do you know it isn’t?”

“What would you do with it?” she challenged right back, raising a brow. “You got plans for that power or something?”

The fallen prince made a face. He was still absentmindedly running his claws through Princess Allura’s hair. “No. I simply fear that concentrated sources of quintessence may have this effect in our world—that it bonds to a host and…overtakes them, somehow.” His white brows knitted together. “As it did my own mother, who has been lost to quintessence, and a demon has taken her place.”

Pidge’s gaze fell to Lotor’s hand, which ran along the tip of Princess Allura’s ear. The princess herself was fully asleep against him, her mouth open with a trail of drool slipping against Lotor’s pajama-clad leg.

The girl’s face curled with a sneaky smile. “You’re worried about Allura? Afraid you’re gonna lose her over something, because you loveher?”

Lotor’s eyes snapped to Pidge, his face heating. “I know she has successfully navigated Oriande, but…” He fell silent with emotion for a time before he could add, “My mother came across something of great power, and it changed her.”

The strain in his voice made Pidge’s mischievous smile falter. She hesitated.

The movie played between them as the animated humans fought to steal Kida, who was bonded to the crystal.

Pidge eventually said, voice softer, “Allura’s really powerful. We’re not gonna lose her over anything.”

Lotor’s throat tightened. He continued to stroke Allura’s hair as she slept against him. “You do not know what I have seen quintessence do to people. Even now, if certain groups knew what all Princess Allura could do, they would seek to control her, just as the evil humans in this cartoon wish to do with the crystal-bonded Kida.”

An emotion came over Pidge. “Well—I mean, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

Within the movie, Milo Thatch had accrued a small band willing to risk their lives to retrieve the princess.

Lotor watched, his heart rising in a pound. “Do tell me that they save her,” he demanded. “I will not watch the rest of this if the Princess Kida dies.”

The human girl gave him a look. “It’s a children’s cartoon. They’re not gonna kill off the princess.”

His breath caught oddly, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away from Allura’s hair. “Right, yes. Of course, they wouldn’t.” He breathed out slowly. “That is well.”

“You take these shows too seriously,” Pidge warned. “Half the fun is knowing that it turns out okay, but not knowing how. You just gotta watch.”

“And Princess Kida?” Lotor demanded. “She is not permanently bonded to the crystal by the end, is she?”

Pidge groaned. “Oh my god. Just watch the movie.”

The princess suddenly whined at the loss of Lotor’s touch, her blue eyes cracking open. “No,” she pleaded blearily. She disjointedly reached up, searching for Lotor’s hand. “Keep petting me; it was quite nice.”

He looked down at her, face tightening in a mix of amusement and protectiveness. “Apologies, princess,” he said, moving to run the back of his knuckles against her warm temple. “I will do as you wish.”

She made a happy noise, settling back into sleep.

***

Lotor did not relax until after Milo Thatch had released Princess Kida from her prison, and until after Princess Kida had saved Atlantis and reappeared from out of the crystal’s aura—to land in Milo’s arms.

“You see?” Pidge called, waving her hand at the screen. “What did I tell you?”

Lotor swallowed down emotion. His fingers stilled against Allura’s stiff curls and the warm of her cheek. Despite the fact that he knew the story to be a children’s fairy tale, an odd burn appeared in his eyes. He exhaled shakily. “You were right,” he relented. “The princess lived.”

“Exactly,” Pidge said. For all her youth, she narrowed her eyes with a critical level of awareness. “They saved the princess. Because she had people to fight for her too.”

He raised his vulnerable eyes to her.

An unspoken truth wavered between them—which was that he and the paladins would fight to protect Princess Allura in much the same way, if it ever came to it.

Then, Pidge broke the mood, her expression shifting with a demonic mischief. She waggled her brows. “You love Princess Allura.” She began to shove at Allura’s legs. “Wake up. Lotor wants to declare his undying love for you and tell you that he’ll save you from crystals and evil people and—”

“—Stop it,” he hissed, his cheeks heating. He grabbed for one of the extra pillows that hung off the edge of the couch—and he flung it directly at Pidge. “You gremlin.”

It struck her soundly, but it did not hide her cackle, nor did it stop Princess Allura waking up from all the unsettled movement and raised voices. Her eyes opened a slit. She made a noise of confusion. “What is—going…on?”

She sleepily raised up from Lotor’s lap, her white curls tumbling down her shoulders.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond with a tease, but Lotor smoothly cut in. “Pidge was just putting in another movie,” he said, voice straining. “Weren’t you, Pidge?”

Allura turned to him, still rapidly blinking her eyes. In that moment, she appeared so entirely vulnerable that Lotor struggled against an instinct to gather her into his arms. “Oh, another one?” She yawned. “But I think—I missed all of this one.”

The human girl crawled away, reaching for her watch with her movie collection on it. “Don’t worry,” she called merrily. “I’m sure Lotor wouldn’t mind reenacting it with you one day.”

“I should hope not,” he retorted, his lavender cheeks still in a flame of emotion. “I’d prefer the princess not be in danger at all. And I am not a Milo Thatch.”

“You are definitely a Milo Thatch,” Pidge deadpanned. “Allura, tell him he’s a Milo Thatch. You know he is.”

The sleepy princess only half-understand the plea. She rubbed at her eyes before leaning back against Lotor, resting her heavy cheek against his shoulder, curling up against him. “He’s—my Milo,” she murmured groggily. “Thatch.”

Lotor pressed his lips together, and he damned the skip of his heart.

Allura’s Milo.

He managed a glare at Pidge, but it lacked fire.

The human girl simply smiled back with that demonic mischief before turning away to look for another movie.

#Voltron #The Second Law #Movie Time with TSL Lotor #Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)#Lotura #Lotor #Allura #Pidge #Thank you for the request amnshe-wolf!#I hope you enjoyed it #Sorry it took me this long to finish this lil drabble #I love this movie though and love the thought of Lotor watching it #idk if you even like Voltron or Lotor or TSL still at this point lolll #But for what it's worth I hope it's meaningful in some way!#My writings #fanfiction

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pitterpatterpot · 3 years

Text

35. “Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving.”

41. “I had a nightmare about you, and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

45. “Again?”

48. “You know, it’s okay to cry.”

52. “Just say it is okay. I just need to hear you say that.”

53. “I love you and I am terrified.”

Here’s the one shot from these prompts! The rest are coming!

~~~

Aedion hiccups, the soil hard and freezing under his cotton sleepwear. The tree behind him prickles and scratches at his back while his body shivers, his stuffed lion toy pressed tightly to his chest. To the left, fires burn. He closes his eyes, sniffling as his wet nose buries against his arm, a cold little touch against his skin. The wind does nothing to soothe the situation, howling between the trees and trembling the shadows in a way that sends him scrambling back.

None of it distracts from the yells and cries in the distance, the clanging of the shields and swords ringing through the night. It prompts another whimper.

Then the tips of his red ears are suddenly encompassed, the sense of a broad hand cupping his head taking over. A thumb rubs soothingly at where his skull meets his spine, a gentle shushing starting as a larger body curls over his.

“It’s alright,” he’s lifted and held against a strong chest, a heart beating solidly underneath his ear. “It’s alright.”

His father. Gavriel. If he says everything will be fine, then it will be. Aedion reaches a small hand up, grasping the collar of Gavriel’s shirt.

“Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving,” Gavriel whispers soothing, lifting a palm up in offering.

Aedion immediately releases the shirt, fingers curling around three of his father’s before letting go. He plays with the plane of his palm, tracing the lines and scars, measuring how his closed fist fits in his father’s palm. Gavriel shushes him once again and flattens out Aedion’s hand, taking it in his own.

“Come on,” Gavriel whispers. “Keep moving.”

Aedion blinks at his father. Keep moving. But he’s in his fathers arms. The shouting grows closer.

“Just keep moving, Aedion. We need to go.”

Hoof beats join the yelling. Aedion tries to twist his head to look. Gavriel bounces him slightly, holding him firmer.

“My cub. You need to move, Aedion. Hurry.”

An arrow imbeds itself in a tree, centimetres away from Gavriel’s head. Aedion whines.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Gavriel looks down at him in confusion, brows furrowing. “I need you to move, Aedion. We can’t stay here. Aedion. Go.”

Aedion twists in earnest now, wondering why Gavriel’s feet seem to have been planted deep in the earth, the frozen mud creeping its way up his ankles to anchor him in place. Aedion knows this land. Has seen soldier after soldier die on this land. It doesn’t let people go.

He drops his toy Lion, and it’s swallowed by the mud. His breathing comes faster, legs kicking.

“Hold my hand and keep moving, Aedion,” Gavriel continues with his calm orders, despite the second arrow that sings to the left, flying past them. “That’s it. We’ll be alright.”

But they’re not moving. Aedion screams in frustration, no sound leaving his lips. Muted and silent as an arrow arcs towards them.

The spray of blood from Gavriel’s neck is warm.

~~~

Aedion heaves, choking on his tears and hollowed breaths.

His body flinging upright, hands splaying outwards and eyes darting around, he inhales a deep breath that leaves his body wheezing. More soon follow, a harsh pattern of panting taking place. He stares at his hands, now the hands of an adult, and traces his scars with his eyes. Counts the edges.

“Aedion?” Lysandra turns to face him, the sheets sliding over her body. “Are you... oh, darling. Again?”

Aedion swallows and nods, a hand pressed to his heart. Lysandra slowly sits up, lifting a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. He leans into her side before pulling away, dropping his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on the first clothes he reaches.

“I just- Gavriel- I need to see-“

“Of course,” those green eyes watch him, bright and alert. “Do you want me to come?”

Aedion shakes his head. “I- no. Thank you, but this-“

“I understand,” Lysandra nods. “I’ll be here if you decide to come back.”

Aedion nods, pressing a kiss against her forehead before leaving the room. It’s when he reaches Gavriel’s doorway he realises how numb his toes have become, his body breaking out into goosebumps through the sleepwear he threw on. Standing in front of his fathers door, tear marks staining his cheeks and hair in disarray, like the child he dreamt he was instead of the man he really is.

Aedion turns and begins to walk away.

The door clicks open, Gavriel looking out in bewilderment, the Lion dishevelled in a way he rarely is. “Aedion?”

Said male freezes at his name and turns. Gavriel steps further out the room, concern taking over. “What’s wrong? Aedion, you must be freezing, walking around now. Is everything alright?”

Aedion swallows, his throat thick. It’s all he can do to keep another round of tears from being shed. The Lion steps out of his room, approaching his son, clad only in loose fitting pants and clearly bleary eyed from exhaustion. A small band aid rests on his neck, near his scar from the Valg. An injury from a stopped attempted robbery on the palace treasury. A miracle the fool even managed to shoot an arrow in Gavriel’s direction.

But the fact that it’s right next to where the Valg tore at him-

Aedion’s breath hitches, and if Gavriel wasn’t laced with concern before he was now consumed with it.

“Why are you up?” The question comes before Aedion even thinks to ask if.

“Light sleeper,” Gavriel says softly. “You stood outside my door for seven straight minutes.”

Seven minutes? It had felt like a second.

“Aedion, what’s wrong?” His father’s hand rests on his shoulder, warm and heavy in both the weight and safety it promises.

“I had a nightmare about you, and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Aedion blurts, the words spilling forward and retraction again and again just as quickly. “But you’re fine, obviously, so I’m just-“

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice takes on a soft but slightly firmer note, “come sit down with me.”

“You’re freezing, come in, son.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

He is. He is? His hand trembles against his side. Aedion follows the hand on his lower back that urges him towards Gavriel’s room, delicious warmth simpering through the room thanks to the smouldering remains of a fire in the fire place.

Gavriel doesn’t lead Aedion to the desk or the very foot of his bed, instead sitting him on the side, closer to the pillows where the covers are already drawn back. There’s something vulnerable and strange in sitting on his father’s mattress that makes Aedion swallow once again. Gavriel settles next to him, arm dropping from his back to allow him space.

“You had a bad dream about me,” Gavriel recounts softly, “and wanted to make sure I was alright.”

It sounds ridiculous and childish when said out loud. Aedion closes his eyes in a pained response.

“Every time you have a bad dream about me dying you become distant,” Gavriel murmurs, trying to meet Aedion’s eyes. “But this time you decided to check on me. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Aedion croaks, surprised by the rawness of his voice.

“Would you like to talk about the dream?” Gavriel asks, standing and pouring a glass from the pitcher on his bed side table.

Aedion jerks. “No.”

He accepts the cup nonetheless, glad for the cool sensation it brings as he gulps down the contents, Gavriel settling near him once more.

“Alright,” Gavriel nods. “Can I hold you?”

Throat closing up, Aedion leans slightly towards his father. An arm is immediately set around his shoulders, pulling him against Gavriel’s side. His shoulders shake, breath coming through hitched and wheezing as he tries to hold his tears at bay. The dam breaks when Gavriel encircles Aedion in both arms and tucks his head under his chin.

“It’s alright,” one of Gavriel’s hands trails upwards into Aedion hair, stroking at it as he coos. “You’re alright. Breathe for me, Aedion.”

“I am.”

“Slower, for me, Aedion. You’re breathing too fast.”

It’s exhaustion that wins in the end. That causes Aedion to slump further in Gavriel’s hold, breath burning as it drags through his throat. He eventually sits back to allow the Lion to pour him another glass of water, downing in thankfully when it’s handed to him.

“I’m sorry,” Aedion apologises, rubbing at his eyes as he hands the glass back.

Gavriel examines his son as he sits. “You know, it’s okay to cry. It would be more worrying if you, and anyone who had been involved in the war from a young age, didn’t. It shows emotion and the ability to mourn.”

Aedion gives no response, simply swallowing and staring at his hands.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Gavriel asks. “In your dream. You’ve never had the desire to come to me before.”

“It- I was five,” Aedion begins, throat closing as he speaks, thickening with swelling tension. “Or younger. I don’t know. I was small. And Adarlan- or someone- they were coming. You picked me up and kept telling me to- but you were holding me and-“

“Breathe, Aedion,” Gavriel reminds him, settling a hand on his back. “What made this dream so much worse then the others?”

“You had an arrow through your neck.”

“You’ve dreamt worse,” Gavriel’s eye pierce him. “Has something happened recently?”

“No, I...”

“If you feel distressed, or have been under too much pressure lately, I’d understand.”

“Nothing has happened!” Aedion stresses. “I just had to see you this time, alright?”

“Alright,” Gavriel agrees soothingly. “I understand. It was just worse this time, wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t!” Aedion near growls. “It wasn’t that vivid.”

“Alright-“

“It’s not alright!” Aedion stands abruptly. “It isn’t!”

“Why, Aedion?” Gavriel’s face twists in confusion and concern. “I won’t know unless you tell me.”

Aedion flings his arms out in anger and exasperation. “Because I love you and I am terrified!”

Gavriel stares. Aedion begins pacing in earnest, his chest heaving with each word.

“I love you now,” Aedion’s voice shakes along with his hands. “You’re my father and I love you. Do you have any idea how much harder that’s going to make ever losing you?”

Gavriel stares.

“And I’m so stupid for letting it happen!” Aedion bites out, his pace quickening. “Do you have any idea how many times this has happened? And each time I move on, I let myself get attached again, because it’s better to love and lose. I know that. I have no regrets in loving the people in my life. It was war, I knew the risk of loving, but I did it anyway, and that’s fine!”

Gavriel stares.

“But you’re a warrior. You could go fight in a far away war next week! And not because you’re forced to!”

Gavriel jolts, shoulders tensing.

“On some trip or campaign and-“

He’s cut off by Gavriel enveloping him, his father’s arms encircling him tightly and refusing to let go. Aedion sucks in a deep breath, trembling in Gavriel’s hold.

“I am never leaving,” Gavriel promises, voice deep and reverberating through his son. “No more war, or enemies, or hunts and campaigns. I swear to you, whatever fears you have of me visiting some far off kingdom and never coming back are just that- fears.”

“You’re a warrior,” Aedion responds bitterly. “It’s who you are.”

“So are you,” Gavriel responds, voice thick. “It’s who we are. But that does not mean we don’t deserve peace. Our job now is to protect, not attack. So that is what we will do. We will tend to our home. I will tend to you.”

Aedion inhales a large breath, closing his eyes. His father squeezes him tight.

“And for what it’s worth,” Gavriel continues, “I love you too.”

#asks #tog #aedion #Gavriel #prompts

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