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poppadom0912 · 7 months

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Together (VII)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.

Summary: When Jay least expected it, he suddenly starts hearing things. And maybe, he's starting to hallucinate too.

A/N: Am I suddenly full of inspiration and writing in school when i should be doing my lab write up? Yes I am. This chapter has been changed many times but I finally finished editing. A little spoiler- maybe I’m being nicer to my babies 🙃

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Over the course of eating their very poorly put together ‘meal’, Will came to the conclusion that the food hadn’t been tampered with and so he was happy to continue feeding you.

You had to admit that you felt like a baby, your older adult brother feeding adult you. You tried insisting you could feed yourself but with the state of your shaking fingers, hands sore from the countless times they’d been tied back, Will denied you your request.

The man that had given the tray of food returned and this time, there was something rectangle like sticking out in one of his trouser pockets while what clearly sounded like keys was sticking out in the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel Will’s heart rate increase from where his hand was positioned over yours. He must’ve noticed it too.

The Ezra's were so meticulous in their plans and their behaviour was always erratic and on another level of violence that it was impossible to believe one of their henchmen could even, for a second, have the thought of being nice to their victims.

But you were continuously surprised by them because as he took the empty tray, leaving behind the two waters and single juice, he ‘accidentally’ dropped the plastic rectangle and as he was walking away, his back turned to you both, a key fell and clanged against the ground, but he never looked back.

And just like that, the door slammed behind him, massively contrasting the immense kindness he showed mere seconds ago.

Holy friggin shit balls.

*****

Was Trudy worried? Yes, indeed she is. Was she going to show any concern? No, not unless she was left alone with her detective.

Ever since dispatch had forwarded her Jay’s call, she’d been on her feet and alert. And ever since she found out that Jackson and Ezra Murray were the culprits to blame, she was determined that they weren’t going to get away again.

Trudy knew all the Halstead siblings, but she knew Jay the best. Over the many years, not only herself but many, many others were forced to get used to not one but three Halstead's being in existence and working within less than fifteen minutes from each other.

Currently, Trudy and Jay were alone in the bullpen since the younger detective was barred from any field work unless they found Will and Y/N’s location but that was the only exception. Right now, her job was to keep Jay company, keep an eye on him and continue looking for any more clues or evidence that could be of any help.

Jay was very clearly still losing his mind and his mental and physical state deteriorated as time passed. At this point, Trudy couldn’t help but think the worst and fear for how her detective was going to fare as a result.

Currently, she was sat opposite him at Hailey's desk, doing her own bit by going through security footage that had too many hours of video on it. Usually, she would get bored doing this, but it was a little different this time because whenever she glanced up, she was faced with the struggling sight of your brother who never asked for too much.

All he wanted was to get his older brother and younger sister back.

Suddenly, the phone on Jay’s desk was ringing. Luckily for him, he had a second phone whenever he went undercover and since the first one had been taken and was likely smashed in an evidence bag somewhere, this was all he was relying on.

The sound was slightly jarring as it interrupted the pin drop silence they’d been in but neither of them showed any sign of discomfort. Instead, Jay went to answer the call, but his solemn mood didn’t change. It was evident that he wasn’t expecting much since it was his undercover phone that they’d been using two days ago on a case.

Just as the desk sergeant was about to go back to her CCTV footage, she felt the entire bullpen still. The tension so thick it was suffocating her veins restricting any blood flow, and as she looked up, it became dizzying.

His already pale face had nothing on Snow White and from where she sat, she could his heartbeat thundering out his chest, practically vibrating. All this could only mean one thing.

“Will?”

What the fuck

For a hot second, Trudy thought that Jay was in so much pain that he was transferring some of his hallucinations onto her to alleviate his symptoms but then he continued talking into the phone and reality sunk into her bones.

"Shit, Will wait slow down I can't- what?!"

Without prior warning, Jay shot out of his seat, wavering slightly on his feet causing the older woman to follow and stand by his side in any case he fell from the whiplash she's sure he gave himself.

"Knives- you've got keys?- Y/N's not unconscious- she's lost her voice- your bleeding?! When- Why are you talking about grape juice?!" Jay paused several times, his words repeatedly getting cut off by Will on the other side of the phone. The longer the call went on, the more confused Trudy became. Jay must've been thinking the same as her from the height his brows rose every time he spoke. They went from talking about knives and blood to grape juice.

The duality of the Halstead brothers.

"Wait so he gave you a knife and somehow you found a gun just casually lying around? Will, I swear to God if you-"

And when Jay screw his eyes shut, something in her mind told her the doctor was doing something stupid and very questionable, very in character even when in a life or death situation. It was nice to know people would never change.

Despite the anxiety growing in her chest, the call lasted longer than she expected. Will was being very efficient and careful for managing whatever he was doing and that put her at somewhat ease. Eventually, nothing physically tore them apart but it was poor internet or a lack of a connection that abruptly ended the call.

"Tell me you got a location?" Jay asked, hope drowning out any other emotion in his ever so expressive eyes. If it wasn't for lives being on the line then she would've scoffed and scolded him but a sarcastic remark would do for now.

"What do you take me for?" She asked incredulously as she glanced at the computer screen, almost immediately committing the address to her memory.

"I'll call Voight but get in the car first."

But Jay didn't need her permission, he was already moving.

*****

So much had unravelled in the last twenty minutes, you were still struggling to understand it all.

With all the uncertainty and determination in the world, you and Will had no other plan but to take they keys and the pocketknife and basically run as fast as you could. Well, run as much as Will could since he was carrying you on his back, very reminiscent of your childhood while he navigated the halls as best he could. You made a very pathetic argument that you could walk on your own but when you tried standing up, your legs gave in on themselves and Will gave you his motherly disappointed look that was very spot on; you and Jay had been on the receiving end of this look for way too long now that you should’ve been immune to it but here you were.

Opening the basement door, you both cringed at the loud sound it made. You guys hadn’t even left the basement yet and it was already going off to a great start.

As gently as he could, Will readjusted your position on his back, his arms moving to hold under your thighs more securely so that in a rush, you wouldn’t move. As he did so, you kept your arms around his neck, barely gripping him due to both a lack of strength and cautious to not strangle him.

Before leaving the room, you and Will sat and contemplated very long and hard about your escape plan. You were provided with very little by the mysterious man you were now deeming your saviour and maybe guardian angel depending on how successful the escape was.

Staring at the burner phone, you swore. You couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number for the life of you. Easily, you could’ve called 999 but the response much longer than calling someone either of you knew. It shocked you only a little when you couldn’t recollect a single person’s phone number, not even Kelly’s or Jay’s.

But like always, Will was there and knew exactly what to do. Maybe it was his doctor nature, but he had several numbers memorised and for some odd reason, he remembered Jay’s undercover phone number. You called him stupid, but he only laughed it off while he punched in the numbers.

You waited in anticipation, your nerves imitating Will’s as he held the phone to his ear, biting on the inside of his cheek as he waited for the phone to stop ringing. And when it did, Will audibly let out a sigh of relief, you felt like crying.

Will explained in half detail, leaving out a lot. It was obvious that Will was trying to relay the necessary details Jay needed to know about their current situation but then he decided to add in the random unnecessary fact that you drank grape juice. That totally threw you off, but Will kept talking as if nothing were wrong.

When Will eventually finished talking, he went silent and listened to what Jay was saying. For a minute, you couldn’t hear a voice on the other side of the phone but then you heard his muffled voice, and it brought you immediate ease knowing he was safe.

And before you knew it, the call ended, and you were out the dreaded basement.

Back to the present, Will was carefully cruising the empty corridors of the very nicely furnished warehouse. It made you question the desolate and dirty state the basement was in. At one point, you pointed out a gun lying on an ottoman; it was very suspiciously placed but when Will checked, it was very much real and very much loaded.

So here you were: a burner phone, pocketknife, gun, and sheer drive. You didn’t want to jinx it but… yes you weren’t going to jinx it.

The warehouse was ginormous. Every corridor was identical to the next and the furnishing was as though a professional interior designer had been inside. Luckily for you and Will, Jackson and Ezra’s lacky’s hadn’t been plastered all over the place, making your escape just a little more easier.

To remain as incognito as possible, Will only whispered to you when absolutely necessary, narrating to you what he was doing and what was going to happen. So far, so good. Will was slinking around, movements smooth and looking like a hair on his body had never been touched since being here. If you didn’t already know he was a doctor, then you would question his physical abilities and profession.

Each corner you turned, you felt your heart drop, your body anticipating disaster. The more time passed, the more you could feel Will sweat and struggle. He had begrudgingly admitted that he was hurt, going into slight detail that Ezra stabbed him, and he’d been hurt more throughout the several times you were passed out. You knew he was hurt and if you were to go in order of the most hurt to the least, the list would be: You, Will and then Jay. And considering the blood you saw covering Jay’s body the last time you saw him; God knows what went down between your oldest brother and your kidnappers.

“Will, if you’re tired, we can stop for a second.” You whispered into his ear but the only reply you got was him shaking his head. You knew his answer made sense, you needed to get out as soon as possible before you got caught but if Will took just one minute or two to recollect himself then maybe he’d feel better.

However, he decided that he was going to put himself last and everything else first because according to him, apparently you and getting out of this damned place took priority to his light-headedness and the blood that was only now slowly beginning to stop running like a river.

And so, without another word, he readjusted you one more time, his grip tightening around your thighs but not too much so it would hurt, and he continued walking.

Going downstairs was the hardest thing Will had to do by far. Yes, carrying you and maintaining your weight on his back was difficult but he could manage, and you felt much more lighter than what you should’ve been being a firefighter but that was a concern for later.

Staring down from the top of the staircase, Will calculated the descent. Yes, it would hurt a lot considering how much his legs shook as he merely stood but he was now starting to get worried but how little you were moving. Initially, you would move every now and then when your body felt stiff or to whisper under your breath so only he could hear you.

Now though, Will didn’t want to say it, you were deathly silent.

He shoved all his negative thoughts aside, deciding to deal with them later because the biggest problem he had was staring at him mockingly. How did his life come to such a point point that stairs scared him?

Luck must’ve decided to be nice to him all of a sudden because under five minutes, he safely delivered the two of you on the ground floor. Now, all that was left to do was find a back or front door and get the heck out of this place.

But obviously, fate was laughing down on the Halstead’s because luck ran as fast as she could, after only three minutes of doing her job because Will was facing down two familiar looking men decked out in all black.

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #jay halstead x reader #onechicago #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #will halstead x reader #halstead sister #halstead brothers #kelly severide x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x sister!reader

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eyeodyssey · 8 months

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The Post-Futurist Fossils of LITCHI HIKARI CLUB In a somewhat recent research tangent, while considering the possible “genealogy” of the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s themes and aesthetics, I made an interesting personal discovery regarding Litchi Hikari Club. Specifically some distinct thematic parallels that the play shares with the Italian futurist movement, less in relation to the art of the movement itself, but rather the ideologies of the movement’s controversial founder, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, and his relation to the Italian fascist party. This is all of course in the context of understanding Litchi as a transgressive/dystopian horror story. This is less of an absolute statement than it is a sort of open train of thought, so take things with a fair grain of salt. This is more or less just my own personal analysis of all the materials I could gather of the original play. Beyond inspecting the play as a possible allegory for futurism, there's also just a lot of general analysis of the play in relation to Ameya's overall body of work, both with the Tokyo Grand Guignol and also as a performance artist. I rarely put a 'keep reading' tag on these things since I'm an openly shameless product of the early days of blogging, but this one's a doozy (both in the information but also just the gargantuan length). Hopefully others will find it just as interesting. The full essay is below...

The futurist movement itself was nothing short of an oddity. In their time, the futurists were pioneers of avant-garde modernist aesthetics, with their works ranging from deconstructive paintings to reality-bending sculptures and even early pathways to noise music with the creation of the non-conventional Intonarumori instruments of Luigi Russolo. Russolo’s own futurist-adjacent manifesto, The Art of Noises, would go on to influence such artists as John Cage, Pierre Henry, Einstürzende Neubauten and the openly left-wing industrial collective Test Department. When visiting the MOMA in New York City as a child, I was fascinated by Boccioni’s Unique Forms of Continuity in Space, a sculpture that appeared to be a spacetime malformation of the human figure encapsulated in a continual state of forward motion while in total stillness. Despite this, the futurists were also a social movement of warmongering misogynists, with their own founding manifesto by Marinetti describing the bloodshed and cruelty of war as being “… the only cure for the world”. Their manifesto would also feature quotes such as “We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism and all opportunist and utilitarian cowardice”. They would originally pin anarchism as being their ideological ground in the manifesto, but shortly thereafter Marinetti would pick up an interest in fascism along with the politics of Benito Mussolini, going on to be a coauthor for the Italian fascist manifesto alongside the futurist manifesto. In consideration of how throughout most of World War II, modernist and post-modern works were considered “degenerate” forms of art in contrast with traditionalism, a whole avant-garde movement founded from fascist ideals is paradoxical. But for a period of time, that parallel wasn’t only in existence, but backed by Mussolini himself with there being a brief effort by Marinetti to make futurism the official aesthetic of fascist Italy. One of the draws of futurism for Marinetti was an underlying sense of violence and extremity. According to Marinetti, his initial inspiration for the movement was the sensations he felt in the aftermath of a car accident where he drove into a ditch after nearly running over a band of tricyclists. He conceived his works to be acts of social disruption, intending to put people in states of unrest to cause riots and similar bouts of violence. “Art, in fact, can be nothing but violence, cruelty, and injustice”. He sought to destroy history to pave the way for a rapid acceleration to futuristic technological revelation.

“As shown in Edogawa Rampo’s Boy Detectives Club, young men like to hide from a world of girls and adulthood to form their own secret societies.” - June Vol. 27 In Litchi Hikari Club, a group of middle school-aged boys are faced with a crisis on the brink of puberty. At the twilight of their childhoods, they form a secret society known as the Hikari Club (or Light Club), a collective that’s devoted to the active preservation of their shared youth and virginity. The boys naively mimic an authoritarian organization and its hierarchy as they seek a means to preserve their boyhood, which they see as being idyllic in contrast to adulthood, a dreary state of existence that they call old and tired in the Usamaru Furuya manga version of the story. Similarly, in the Litchi Hikari Club-inspired short manga Moon Age 15: Damnation, the boys go on to liken their hideout with the paradisiacal garden of Eden. In said story, Zera would directly name the poem Paradise Lost in reference to the discovery of their hideout by adults (arriving in the form of ground surveyors) and the wide-eyed daughter of a land broker, with their contact to the virgin industrialized land being an ideological tainting of the sacred lair. In their mission, they seek refuge in technological inhumanity by having their penises replaced with mechanized iron penises, symbolic devices of power and violence that can only procreate with other items of technology. Working in absolute secrecy, they collectively manufacture a robot known as Lychee. The purpose of Lychee, previously only known to Zera, isn’t revealed to the other club members until its completion. It’s when they unveil their “cute” robot in a scene that parallels the 1920 German expressionist film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari that Zera tells the other members of Lychee’s purpose as a machine that would kidnap women for them. The robot's efforts are assisted by the girl capturing device, a strange rice cooker-shaped mask that’s laced with a sleeping drug. When questioned about the fuel source for the robot, Zera explains how it will run off the clean fuel of lychee fruits rather than an unsavory yet plentiful substance like electricity or gasoline as a means to further match the robot’s perceived beauty.

While the club share a general disdain for adulthood, they hold a special hatred to girls and women. Going off the dogmatic repulsion to sexuality that Kyusaku Shimada shows as the teacher in the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s prior play, Mercuro (1984), it could be assumed that the Hikari Club hold a similar dogmatic viewpoint about the vices of sex. In this context, it’s likely that they would’ve perceived women as being parasitic by nature as spreaders of the “old” and “tired” adult human condition through pubescent fixation and procreation. Sexual thoughts are inherent to aging for most people, given the process of discovering and exploring your identity throughout puberty. It’s that exact pubescent experience the club seek to eradicate. Further insight is given to the Hikari Club’s dystopian psyche through their open allusions to nazi ideology. While Zera travels out to gather lychees from a tree he planted, the club get a special visit from a depraved elderly showman known as the Marquis De Maruo, performed by none other than Suehiro Maruo himself in the 1985 Christmas performance. Despite the club’s disposition to adults, they hold an exception for the Marquis for his old-timey showmanship and open pandering to the children’s whims. He always comes with autopsy films to show the young boys, and as they watch the gory videos he hands out candies that he describes as being a personal favorite of the late Adolf Hitler. He was said to also be the one to convince the boys to name their robot after the lychee fruit. It isn’t until Zera returns that the Marquis is removed from the hideout on Zera’s orders. Just before his exiling, he foretells to Zera the prophecy of the black star as both a promise and a warning to the aspiring dictator. It should be noted that there is a fascist occult symbol known as the black sun.

Suehiro Maruo as the Marquis De Maruo. On the right side is a caricature of Maruo as drawn by a contributor to June magazine, excerpted from an editorial cartoon in June Vol. 27 covering Litchi's 1985 Christmas performance. In addition, the Marquis’ role alongside Jaibo’s appearances in the play (which I’ll get to later) show distinct parallels with the presence of the hobo in the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s first play, Mercuro. In Mercuro’s case, the hobo (performed by Norimizu Ameya, who would go on to also act as Jaibo) visits the classroom in secrecy to lecture the students his depraved ideologies. Whilst the hobo in Mercuro was a figure of perversion that existed in contrast to the teacher’s paranoid conservatism, in Litchi both Jaibo and the Marquis are enablers of the club’s fascistic leanings, with the Marquis being a promoter whereas Jaibo is a direct representation of the underlining perversions of fascist violence. Though completely omitted from the Furuya manga, the element of the autopsy films shines a unique light on Zera’s death at the end of the story. In both the play and the manga, Zera is gutted alive by Lychee when the robot undergoes a meltdown after being forced to drown Kanon (Marin in the original play) in a coffin lined with roses. In the manga, Zera appears deeply unsettled when realizing his intestines resemble the internals of an adult. It’s unknown if this aspect is present in the theater version, as the full script remains unreleased to this day. It would fit however knowing not just the club’s repulsion to adulthood, but also how they retreat to technological modification to eradicate the human aspects they associate with adulthood. What is described of Zera’s death in the theater version has its own disquieting qualities as, from what’s mentioned, when confronted with his own mortality he appears to regress to a state of childlike delirium, a demeanor that’s drastically different from his usual calm and orderly presentation. Upon seeing his intestines, one of the responses he is able to muster is “I’m in trouble”. He says this as he questions whether or not he can fit his organs back inside the cavity before eventually telling himself that he’s just tired, that he “need(s) to sleep for a while”.

While never directly stated, it’s heavily implied that the club’s ideologies and technological fetishism ultimately root back to Jaibo, an ambiguously European transfer student who secretly manipulates the club’s actions from behind the scenes. Referred to by Hiroyuki Tsunekawa (Zera’s actor) as the “true dark emperor” of the Hikari Club, he was said to haunt the stage from the sides, closely inspecting the Hikari Club’s activities while keeping a distance. The iron phallus was first introduced by Jaibo through a monologue where he reveals how he fixed one to his own person, carefully describing its inner mechanisms and functionality before demonstrating its inhuman reproductive qualities by using the phallus to have sex with a TV. A television that he affectionately refers to as Psychic TV Chan, in reference to the post-industrial band fronted by Genesis P’Orridge. In the same scene, he promises the other members that they would all eventually get their own iron penises just like his own. In a subsequent scene, he reveals the iron phallus’ use as a weapon when, arriving to the club’s base with a chained-up female schoolteacher who accidentally discovered the sanctuary, he uses the device to brutally kill the teacher through a mocking simulation of sexual intercourse. Just before raping her, he likens her to a landrace, bred for the sole purpose of reproducing and being processed into meat for consumption. He menacingly tells her that he will make her as “cut and dry” as her role in society before carrying out her execution. While there was some confusion on whether or not the iron phallus was a machine or solely a chastity device, it was found in bits of dialogue that the iron phallus at least shares the qualities of a pump with a described set of rubber hinges. The teacher’s death gruesomely reflects the death of Kei Fujiwara’s character in the later film Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989), with the iron phallus mangling her insides as blood splatters across the stage. While the club treats adult sexuality as a plague, they manage to find through the iron phallus a way to convert their own states of chastity into a form of violence, stripping all humanity away from the penis and rendering it to a weapon of absolute power through desolate mechanized cruelty.

JAIBO: “Length, 250 mm, with a weight of 2.4 kilograms. Arm diameter, 30mm. Cylindrical thrust, 170mm… With pins, plates and rods of die-cast alloy. And hinges of rubber… the rest is pure iron. It is the iron phallus.” - June Vol. 27 In the same interview, Tsunekawa would go on to recall how the members of the Hikari Club were effectively Jaibo’s guinea pigs. In both the play and the manga, an after-school night of the long knives ensues with the slow collapse of the Hikari Club as Jaibo influences the exiling of certain club members, with Zera left ignorant to the social engineering as a mere extension of Jaibo’s elaborate puppeteering. Left embittered by a chess match where he lost to Zera, Tamiya is easily tricked by Jaibo into burning the lychee field as a way to get vengeance. Upon being caught, Tamiya is castrated of his iron phallus, resulting in his exiling from the club as a traitor while also being mockingly likened to a woman in the process. In another scene, it’s recalled that Jaibo and Zera exchange a conversation about the Hikari Club’s loyalty to Zera as they observe the outside world through their periscopes. By all contemporary recollections, Jaibo was the club’s puppet master. He would’ve been the likely source of the club’s ideologies, the underlining hatred to women and fixation on technological violence, replacing mankind with a race of humanoid weapons. Zera would be a shell without his influence. The presence of futurism could arguably even be rounded down to Lychee’s presence in the story. Beyond his theoretic work, Marinetti was also a playwright. He would be most well known for his futurist drama La donna è mobile, a story riddled with similarly perverse renditions of sexual violence. The play notably featured the presence of humanoid automatons a full decade before the term “robot” would be coined by Czechoslovakian author Karel Čapek in the play R.U.R., with the French version of Marinetti’s script referring to the machines as “puppets” for their visual similarity to humans.

All of this plays out over a soundscape that’s dominated by unnatural electronic frequencies and synthesized percussion. The sound design was arguably one of the most important aspects of Ameya’s plays, with Ameya at one point describing the Tokyo Grand Guignol productions as being an ensemble of his favorite sounds. The setting further compliments the atmosphere, made to resemble the internal of a junkyard or factory warehouse where heaps of technical jump decorate the stage around the monochrome cabinet that would eventually birth Lychee. Some of the featured artists in the play’s first act include Test Department, The Residents, 23 Skidoo and Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. The play’s opening, which depicts the capturing and subsequent torture of a student named Toba through a so-called “baptism of light”, is underscored by the S.P.K. song Culturcide, a grim primordial industrial dirge that paints the image of a dystopia where the genocide of ethnic cultures is likened to the infection of human cells by parasitic pathogens. Instead of being hung with a noose, Toba is suspended by a meathook, left as a decoration amidst the heaps of mechanized excrement. He would eventually be joined by the lifeless bodies of various women the Hikari Club abduct as they’re steadily gathered in a small box at the back of the stage. “Membrane torn apart, scavenging with the nomads. Requiem for the vestiges. Dissected, reproduced. The nucleus is infected with hybrid’s seed. Needles soak up, the weak must destroy. Cells cry out, cells scream out. Culturcide! Culturcide! Culturcide! Culturcide!” - Culturcide (from S.P.K.'s Dekompositiones EP)

“We are now entering an era which history will come to call ANOTHER DARK AGE. But, in kontrast to the original Dark Age, defined by a lack of information, we suffer from an excess of information, which has been reduced to the repetition of media-generated signs. Through this specialization, it is no longer possible for an individual to attain a total view of society. Edukation is struktured to the performance of a limited number of funktions rather than for kreativity.” “Kommunications systems are designed for the passive entertainment of the konsumer rather than the aktive stimulation of the user’s imagination. Through the spread of the western media, all kultures come to stimulate one another. By the end of the millennium, this biological infektion will have penetrated the heart of the most isolated traditions - a total CULTURCIDE.” “Yet in every era, a small number of visionaries rise above the general malaise. Those who will succeed, will resist the pressure to become kommercialized “images”, demanding identifikation and imitation. They will uphold their principles in the face of impossible odds. By remaining anonymous, they will be free to develop their imagination with maximum diversity. For this is the TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS, - the end of the proliferation of the ikons and the advent of a new symbolism.” - From the back cover of S.P.K.’s Dekompositiones EP (released under the moniker SepPuKu) Over the course of the play, the story undergoes a drastic tonal shift as the focus moves from the Hikari Club’s hierarchical order and internal conflicts to the relationship between Lychee and Marin. Marin (performed by synthpop musician Miharu Koshi) was the first girl the Hikari Club successfully kidnap through Lychee after implementing the phrase “I am a human” in Lychee’s coding so it can understand the concept of human beauty. This small implementation causes a full unraveling in Lychee’s personality as it quickly forms a close bond with Marin, convinced that it is also a human like Marin. The soundscape changes alongside the overarching atmosphere, going from cold industrial drones and percussive electronica to ambient tracks. Some of the major scenes play out over moving piano-focused pieces and music box tunes from Haruomi Hosono’s soundtrack for Night on the Galactic Railroad. Originally created a weapon like the iron phalluses and the girl capturing device, Lychee is eventually defined in how he transcends from being a weapon to a conscious being with feelings. In this context, the play can be read as a juxtaposition of human emotion against inhuman futurist brutality.

This split was likely the product of the radically different creative ideologies of Norimizu Ameya (the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s founder and lead director) and pseudonymous author K. Tagane (the playwright for the group from Mercuro to Litchi). Ameya had come into the group with radical intentions, holding Artaudesque aspirations to transgress the literary limits of modern theater to achieve something deeply subconscious. Meanwhile, Tagane was a romantic who was known for their poetic and lyrical screenplays. Ameya purportedly sought out Tagane’s screenplays specifically to find a literary base he would “destroy” in his direction, deconstructing the poeticisms in his own unique style. He describes it briefly in an interview regarding the stage directions of Mercuro, stating how he took elaborate descriptions of a lingering moon and ultimately deconstructed them to the moon solely being an illusion set by a screen projector, mapping out the exact dimensions of the projection to being a 3-meter photograph of the moon rather than a “fantastic moon”. It’s believed by some that the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s formation and ultimately short run were the product of a miraculous balance between Ameya and Tagane’s ideologies. It’s possible that Litchi could’ve been a last straw between the two artists. After Litchi, Tagane left the group, with Ameya having to write the troupe’s final screenplay on his own. LYCHEE: “Marin is always sleeping… all she does is sleep. She doesn’t eat anything. Why does Marin sleep all day?” MARIN: “When you’re asleep, all the sadness of the world passes over you.”

"The second half of Litchi was predominantly driven by the sounds of Ryuichi Sakamoto and Haruomi Hosono. During a scene that featured a piece from the Galactic Railroad soundtrack, Miharu Koshi sang to Kyusaku Shimada while dancing like a clockwork doll to the sounds of a twisting music box. The scene lasted for a while and was very romantic, the interactions between Lychee and Marin were all very sweet and cute. The second act of Litchi was all a product of Tagane’s making. By the time of the following play, Walpurgis, I was told by a staff member that Ameya had written the screenplay by himself because Tagane had left.” ��… While the first half was filled with repeated mantras and the unfolding aesthetics of an aspiring militia, the second half was immersed in the world of shoujo manga. It did appear that through the intermission, much of the junk and rubble around the podium was sorted out.” “… The Tokyo Grand Guignol’s plays were always defined by a strong nocturnal atmosphere. But in Litchi’s second half, it wasn’t a dark night, but a brightly lit one under the moonlight and plentiful stars in the sky shining through an invisible skylight. Marin doesn’t forgive Lychee immediately for his actions, responding to him harshly in a way that would confuse him and make him sulk. It came across as a somewhat bitter reimagining of a French comedy like Louis Malle’s Zazie dans le Métro or Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amélie, it was different that way in how it wasn’t only Maruo’s inferno.” - From a Twitter thread by user Shoru Toji regarding the 1986 rerun of Litchi Hikari Club Some questionable qualities do exist in the relationship between Lychee and Marin. What should be a peaceful retreat from the dystopian corruption still has a sinister undertone in the disparities between Lychee’s cold masculine features in contrast with Marin’s childlike girly innocence. It doesn’t help that Zazie dans le Métro (one of the mentioned films in the recollection) was directed by Louis Malle, who while known for such films as My Dinner With Andre and Black Moon was also responsible for the infamously discomforting Pretty Baby. Then again, Litchi was the product of a confrontational transgressive subculture, so the sinister undertones could be intentional. Keep in mind the contents of Suehiro Maruo’s prolific adaption of Shōjo Tsubaki and how it unflinchingly depicts abuse and manipulation through the eyes of a confused child. It could be possible that Lychee himself was intended to be childlike in its mannerisms. Throughout the existing descriptions, Lychee was shown as speaking in fragmented sentences while struggling to understand basic concepts. Zera was mentioned to also use certain phrases like “cute” when referring to the robot when it was unveiled. And it’s through Marin that Lychee learns morality like a child. The robot’s masculinity could be passed off as the cast all being adults. Hiroyuki Tsunekawa for instance shows distinctly sculpted features from certain angles when performing Zera.

In his aspirations to become a human, Lychee eventually “dies” like a human. With the burning of Zera’s lychee tree, the robot is left with a finite limit on its remaining energy before it totally loses consciousness. After his rampage, Lychee attempts to reunite with Marin, but he runs out of fuel. Before what should be a moment of resolution, things are cut short as the stage goes black, eventually illuminated to show an unpowered Lychee cradling Marin’s corpse in his arms. Zera reemerges to observe the remnants of Lychee and Marin. He speaks of how Lychee will crumble into nothingness alongside Marin for foolishly giving into human emotion, further implying the club’s views on humanity. After this, recollections of the play’s final lines differentiate somewhat. It was said that in the original Christmas performance, Zera calls out to Jaibo, posing the corpses of Lychee and Marin as being his seasonal gifts to Jaibo. Whereas in most popular recollections, it’s described that after his monologue, Zera shouts “Wohlan! Beginnen!” (German for “Now! Begin!”) before prompting the decorations across the stage to collapse, revealing a set of stepladders from behind that the remaining previously deceased club members stand, all drenched in blood with spotlights illuminating their faces from below. ZERA: “And with that, our tale of a foolish romance between woman and machine reaches its conclusion. It ends before me as I stand here, watching. Lychee, the machine, will rust away into dust. And Marin, a young girl, will rot away leaving behind only her bones, which too will crumble…”

Multiple readings can be deciphered from this conclusion. The most established theory is in relation to the Hikari Club’s aspirations for eternal youth, with the members technically achieving their goal through the stagnation of death. They will remain eternal children since they died as children, unable to ever grow into adulthood. In the context of futurism and mechanized fascism however, it could be read as a bitter observation of a lasting dictatorship. With how the Hikari Club members had rendered themselves less human than their own robot, they survive death to continue their work, seeking to one day eradicate humanity in favor of a race of sentient childlike weapons. “To admire an old picture is to pour our sensibility into a funeral urn instead of casting it forward with violent spurts of creation and action. Do you want to waste the best part of your strength in a useless admiration of the past, from which you will emerge exhausted, diminished, trampled on?” “… For the dying, for invalids and for prisoners it may be all right. It is, perhaps, some sort of balm for their wounds, the admirable past, at a moment when the future is denied them. But we will have none of it, we, the young, strong and living Futurists! Let the good incendiaries with charred fingers come! Here they are! Heap up the fire to the shelves of the libraries! Divert the canals to flood the cellars of the museums! Let the glorious canvases swim ashore! Take the picks and hammers! Undermine the foundation of venerable towns! The oldest among us are not yet thirty years old: we have therefore at least ten years to accomplish our task. When we are forty let younger and stronger men than we throw us in the waste paper basket like useless manuscripts! They will come against us from afar, leaping on the light cadence of their first poems, clutching the air with their predatory fingers and sniffing at the gates of the academies the good scent of our decaying spirits, already promised to the catacombs of the libraries.” - from the 1909 Futurist Manifesto by Filippo Tommaso Marinetti

I forgot what exactly first caused the parallel to cross my mind. I do recall it being reignited when having a closer look over the poster and flyer for Litchi’s Christmas performance in December 1985. The flyer in particular is really a wonderful thing to look at. Predominantly featuring an art spread by Suehiro Maruo, a suited man with Kyusaku Shimada’s likeness is shown caressing a girl in front of a modernist cityscape with spotlights shining up to a night sky. Other suited men in goggles fly in the air with Da Vinci-reminiscent flying apparatuses between the beams of the metropolis’ spotlights. A student in full gakuran uniform flings himself into the scene from the far left side of the image with a dagger in hand, and a larger hand comes from the viewer’s perspective holding a partially peeled lychee fruit. While not based on any direct scene from the play, it perfectly instills the play’s atmosphere with an air of antiquated modernity, like the numerous illustrations of the early 1900s that show aspirational visions of what a futuristic cityscape might resemble. The bizarre neo-Victorian fashions of the future and its post-modernist formalities. The term futurism came to mind somewhat naively from this train of thought. It was a movement I recalled hearing about, but my memory of it was hazy. It wasn’t until I went in for a basic refresher that I felt the figurative lightbulb go off in my head. That was when the pieces started to come together, but then also strain apart from each other into tangents. Granted, many of these parallels could be read as coincidental. Many of them can even be passed off the play being a work of proto-cyberpunk, knowing how Tetsuo: The Iron Man would subsequently explore similar themes of cybernetics and human sexuality. It should still be noted however that in contrast with many of the Japanese cyberpunk films, Litchi was explicit in its connotations between technological inhumanity and fascism, with the machinery itself being the iconography of a dictatorship rather than a product of it. In addition, with Tetsuo the film has strong gay overtones, with the technology being an extension of the sexual tensions between the salaryman and the metal fetishist. For a period of time, efforts were made to make futurism the official aesthetic of fascist Italy, and modern fascism as we know it is in the same family tree of Italian philosophy as futurism. The Hikari Club are explicit in drawing from German aesthetics rather than Italian however, speaking in intermittent German and predominantly using German technology. The spotlight that they used when torturing Toba in the first act, for example, was a Hustadt Leuchten branded spotlight. And if that isn’t a German name I don’t know what is. It was also said that Jaibo’s outfit in the play was modeled after German school uniforms. Though then again, the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s works were a bit of a cultural slurry. Jaibo’s name for example is Spanish (derived from Luis Buñuel’s Los Olvidados), while the character is implied to be German.

Similar to the cited origins of futurism, Ameya stated in a 2019 tweet regarding the June 9th, 1985 abridged Mercuro performance on Tokumitsu Kazuo’s TV Forum that in the following August of that year, an airplane accident occurred that led to the conception of Litchi’s screenplay. The exact nature of the accident was never specified, but the affiliates he was communicating with all appeared to be familiar with it and expressed concern when it was brought up. This was however one of an assortment of influences that were cited behind Litchi’s production, with the two more established theories regarding the then-contemporary mystique around lychee fruit in Chinese cuisine along with the play being a loose adaption of Kazuo Umezu’s My Name is Shingo. For what it’s worth, the themes of Litchi, along with the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s other works, were closely tied with certain concepts that Ameya personally cultivated throughout his career. A frequent recurring topic Ameya would bring up in relation to his works was the nature of the human body in relation to foreign matter, need it be biological or unnatural. With Mercuro the students taught by Shimada are made into so-called Mercuroids by having their blood supplies replaced with mercurochrome, a substance that is referred to as the “antithesis of blood” by Shimada while in character. In an interview for the book About Artaud?, Ameya cites an interest in Osamu Tezuka’s manga in how certain stories of Tezuka’s paralleled Ameya’s observations of the body. He directly names Dororo and Black Jack, observing how both Hyakkimaru and Black Jack reconstructed their bodies from pieces of other people, going on to bluntly describe Pinoko as a “mass of organs covered in plastic skin”.

A section from June Vol. 27 highlighting some of the more established performers from Litchi's 1985 Christmas performance. The actors from left to right are Norimizu Ameya as Jaibo, Naomi Hagio as the female school teacher (best known in cult circles for her role as Kazuyo in the 1986 horror film Entrails of a Virgin), Suehiro Maruo out of costume and Miharu Koshi as Marin. During his temporary retirement from theater, Ameya would take up performance art, with some of his performances revolving around acts with his own blood. While my memories of these works are a bit hazy, I remember one action he performed that involved a blood transfusion, with the focus being on the experience of having another person’s blood coursing through your veins. While I didn't have much luck relocating this piece (probably from it not being covered in English), I did find on the Japan Foundation’s page for performing arts an interview where Ameya discusses being in a band with Shimada where Ameya had blood drawn from his body while he played drums. He would also describe an art exhibition where he displayed samples of the blood of a person infected with HIV. “After 1990 he left the field of theatre and began to engage himself with visual arts - still proceeding to work on his major topic - the human body - taking up themes like blood transfusion, artificial fertilization, infectious diseases, selective breeding, chemical food, and sex discrimination, creating works as a member of the collaboration unit Technocrat.” - Performing Arts Network Japan (The Japan Foundation) There are still an assortment of open questions I’m left with in regards to the contents of the original Litchi play. One of the most glaring ones is Niko’s eye. In consideration of Ameya’s interest in the body, the detail would fit perfectly with his ideologies. A club member who, to show his absolute loyalty to the Hikari Club, has his own eyeball procedurally gouged out to be made a part of the Lychee robot. Despite this perfect alignment, none of the contemporary recollections mention this element. While Niko does have an eyepatch in certain production photos, it never seems to come up as a plot point. He isn’t the only one to bear an eyepatch either, with Jacob also being shown with an eyepatch in flyers. More questions range from Jaibo’s motives in causing the dissolution of the Hikari Club to the true nature of Zera’s affiliation to Jaibo. While Tsunekawa has stood his ground in the relationship between Zera and Jaibo being totally sexless, in the cited volume of June the editor playfully refers to Jaibo as being Zera’s “best friend” in quotes.

A side-by-side comparison of the cast listings on the back of the flyers for the December 1985 performance of Litchi Hikari Club alongside its 1986 rerun. The 1985 run's lineup is at the top while the 1986 run is at the bottom. Much speculation is naturally involved when looking into the original Litchi Hikari Club since it is in essence a cultural phantom. There’s a reason I used the term genealogy in relation to my research of the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s works. It is an artistic enigma as while its presence lingers in subculture, the original works are now practically unattainable due to the inherent nature of theater. As Ameya himself would acknowledge in another interview, theater is an immediate medium that can only be perceived in its truest form for a very short span of time before eventually disintegrating. So with the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s plays, you are left to scour through the scattered remnants and contemporary recollections alongside the figurative creative descendants of the plays. You analyze the statements of both the original participants and the people they openly dismiss, as even those people were original audience members before reinterpreting the plays to their own unique visions. Despite the apparent differences, I still feel that Furuya’s manga gives a unique perspective to the story when viewed under dissection. That is if you want to see it in strict relation to the play. Outside that, I feel it firmly stands on its own merits. I like the manga no matter what Tsunekawa says, that’s what I’m trying to say. Ameya approved it anyway. It took me a full day to write all this out, and like the first time I went down this train of thought, I’m pooped. During that first excursion, after excitedly spiraling through these potential connections, I noticed in passing mention something about Marinetti’s cooking. You see, later in his life Marinetti aimed to apply futurism not just to art and theater, but cuisine also. As an Italian, Marinetti openly despised pasta, seeing it as being an edible slog that weighs down the spirits of the Italian people. Just further evidence that I would never get along with the man, no matter my liking of the Boccioni sculpture I saw at MOMA all those years ago. Well, outside of him being a fascist and all obviously. I like pasta. Either way, he was on a mission to conceive all-new all-Italian cuisines that would match the vision he had of a new fascist Italy. Nothing could prepare me though for when I saw an image of what would best be described as a towering cock and ball torture meat totem. It is exactly as it sounds, a big phallic tower of cooked meat with a set of gigantic dough-covered balls of chicken flesh on the front and back where you have to stick needles through the thing to hold it together. Words cannot express just how big it is. The thing was damn well near falling apart from how unnatural its shape was, and you’re expected to eat it while it has honey pouring from the tip of the tower. I genuinely winced watching its assembly, I instinctively crossed my legs somewhat when it was pierced by wooden sticks and then cut into sections to reveal the plant-stuffed interiors. As a person with no interest whatsoever in cooking shows, I was on the edge of my seat watching a PBS-funded webisode of someone preparing futurist dishes. Seek it out for yourself, it’s an excessively batshit culinary freakshow. That is more than enough talk about penises for the rest of the week. I’m going to spend the next few days looking at artistic yet selectively vaginal flowers to balance things out, equal opportunity symbology.

#litchi hikari club #lychee light club #norimizu ameya #suehiro maruo #tokyo grand guignol

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oumaheroes · 1 year

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I'm so sorry if I'm bothering, but reading "The Captain" has seriously floored, contaminated and infected me and I'm making a playlist inspired by it - But I was wondering if you had thoughts on Alfred and his people in that context? Because I... Like cowboy Alfred and I can't emphasize enough how many stories would emerge from Alfred losing a dual, lying dead on the ground, just to be gone by dawn and seen again in the next town over on death row to be hanged, just to be seen alive again some time later?

Like, it gives campfire stories and western-tales! 🥹

The Cowboy

Characters: America

The Captain (England)

The Artist (France)

The Cleaner (Scotland)

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Some say there are monsters out on the plains.

Unholy things. Dangerous things. Things that no man should see, and that would drive him mad if he ever did.

The cowboy does not believe all this. He believes in truth, cold and bitter. Life is hard out here, that is true, and sometimes a hard life does things to a man. Turns him inside out with wanting and regret. Makes him yowl for his momma at night like a child from loneliness. Cold nights, bitter winds, and dust choked skies- miles and miles with nothing but the hot sun and ghosts of old lives nipping at your heels.

Because to choose a life on the plains alone is to have come from something. To go far into the desert and stay there means that there is sanctuary in the sands that cannot be found in a town, or a village. And that life changes those who live it. Makes them see their fears manifested in order to understand them. Forces them to acknowledge their wrongs and mistakes by trapping them alone.

The cowboy is no different. He’s seen many things he wishes he hadn’t. Has done many more besides.

There’d been a boy. Many summers ago.

Bright blue eyes, golden hair. Rough broad hands of a working man, but the expensive clothes of a comfortable one. He’d rolled into town with fear behind his wide smile; twitchy fingers and a need for work with no questions asked. He’d been running from things, that was clear, and the cows don’t ask no questions. Nor do cowboys in need of able hands.

He’d been good. Been quick. Great with horses, could calm even the most spooked or rowdy with just a touch. A real gift for them, and a real love for the plains. He grew tall under the wide blue skies, expanded his chest outwards as he rode in a way that made you look at him. Talked much, talked often, but without saying anything at all.

When he’d died, the cowboy didn’t know who to send for. The boy had never mentioned his father, hadn’t spoken of his momma, not even in passing. No family and not even a family name to claim him. He’d had to leave him out there to the sun, nothing but a bright red blanket over his face to offer him shade and the cowboy’s own rings on his eyes to pay for something he didn’t quite understand. It had felt right. It had felt inadequate.

He’d been too young.

The memory of the boy haunts him. The cowboy sees their final ride in his dreams, sees the herd change direction and sees the boy react too late. Sees him realise across the cattle that he was pinned- rock of the canyon on one side, and the stampede the other. He caught the cowboy’s eye and that, that moment of knowing, seared something into him that the cowboy knows he will never forget.

Over the thunder of a thousand hooves, the boy’s scream is an unanswerable battle cry he still wakes to, even now.

The cowboy keeps moving. The herds do not stop. Rides must be finished. Life goes on.

He goes it alone. Wrings out his soul in the dust, lets it boil over with regret. Then he gets another partner. Then another. The cowboy is older, too old these days to head on out to watch the cattle without someone he trusts at his back. The world is changing around them but this life does not change, does not grow easier. Only harder, as his bones begin to hurt and his eyes can no longer spot unfriendly shapes moving in the shadows.

One night and a shared fire like any other- three men and a dog in the middle of nowhere- the cowboy looks up to see a face he knows all too well. It has been years, decades, but the boy’s face is unchanged. Still milk smooth, still full and whole.

He has a chain around his neck that glitters in the firelight. Thin gold links that hold up familiar rings, unused payment for a journey not taken. He catches the cowboy’s eye over a whisper of long ago screams and nods.

There are monsters out on the plains.

Things that creep around campsites, things that stir in the night. Things that wear the faces of long dead men, that put on old skin like clothes and come to sit quietly by your side.

The cowboy cannot look at him. He hears him breathing as the men around them talk, feels the warmth of the boy’s arm through this jacket.

‘Well met,’ the cowboy manages, and offers his old friend his flask to drink from.

The boy does not take it. He looks up at the stars, bright and endless above them, and holds the cowboy’s rings in one hand.

‘Strange, isn’t it?’ he says softly, ‘What things we can sometimes think we see.’

The cowboy’s heartbeat beats loud in his ears, ‘Too much sun does things to a man.’

‘It does.’ The boy turns and looks back. His eyes are old, hard things, ‘I’ve heard people tell all sorts of tales. Drunken ghost stories no sane man would believe.’

The cowboy’s gut screams a warning, that he is but prey in front of predator. He knows to listen, has enough sense not to question, ‘I’m too sane to believe most things.’

He meets the boy’s eye and does not look away. The fire before them cracks, and the boy breathes. There is no other sound. Then, he smiles, teeth emerging white and gleaming. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Maybe, it never did.

‘Well met, friend.’ the boys says. He claps the cowboy’s shoulder and settles back. The cowboy’s chest feels lighter, ‘I think we’ll get along just fine.’

I couldn't help myself Sunny, I was instantly inspired and it's all your fault

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As it was written so quickly this may well change, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and I had to get it out there

If this story is to have a song, it's 'Ghost Rider's' by Johnny Cash which is, and always will be, an utter banger.

#hws america #aph america #alfred jones #hws #aph #hetalia #nations as they appear to humans #nations as seen by humans #heroes writes #heroes treasures

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sweetracha · 1 year

Text

First Sleep Over with Stray Kids

Perfect Night: Hyunjin

Sugar Content: Sugary Sweet (Fluff), Sour Sweet (Angst)

Allergy Warning: Hopeless romantic couple, Idea of perfection, Hints to anxiety and feeling trapped

Perfect. This all had to be perfect. You had to be perfect because he was perfect.

The definition of perfection drilled in your head all day and you just wanted it out. You felt like you were walking on pins and needles making every choice for the night. What to wear? What to bring? Should you wear makeup? Will you be as perfect as he thinks you are?

You met Hyunjin during an art class held at the local library every Saturday. Upon entering the room you smelled the toxic aroma of paint and thinner. Canvases were placed upright in a circle as if to shield what lay within. A small round podium, marble, of course, waited for you among the soon-to-be masterpieces. The blank white surfaces would soon be filled by your city's local creative masterminds. The subject tonight was you.

Life on your own as a free spirit came at a cost. While you made enough to make ends meet monthly you found yourself sinking into a deeper and deeper hole. No one can work day in and day out without going insane. You needed an outlet, some sort of fun, but that would cost money you didn't have. So were destined for bleak and bland existence until your friend showed you the posting from the local library. “Semi-Nude Female Model Needed for Saturdays Artist Event”. You could never do that, could you? Maybe this is what you needed, to put yourself out there. It's only semi-nude so it isn't like the artists would see the whole thing. Finally, after a silent fight in your mind, you convinced yourself. The only way to grow is to find comfort in the uncomfortable.

After meeting with the kind lady who ran the show, you were whisked away to the changing room. Actually, it was one of the college study rooms with a black bedsheet hung over the window. On the table, in front of you was a white silk wrap and an inspirational photo on how to wear it. The whole setup seemed cheesy but you followed through anyways. Stripping down into your natural body, you carefully wrapped the silk around you. It took a few tries and a few more curse words but finally, you managed to make it look like the picture. It draped over your body like a cascading waterfall. A small part of your chest peaked out to hint at the suggestion but stayed away from being porn-ish. Your silhouette was highlighted by the fabric, a shadowy tease of what's truly underneath. You had to say, it looked perfect.

Once you exited the room you found a chair resting on the podium that wasn't there before. The kind artist from earlier came to you and after close examination of your attire, explained how you were to pose for the night. She made you feel more comfortable by showing you a few options and joking around that they will look prettier when you do them. After one more wavery breath, you took your seat. The wood was warm in comparison to the frozen marble beneath your bare feet. You shivered a bit but that didn't last long. As the first few artists made their way to their stations the heat of nerves filled your body. But once you saw him you began to burn red hot.

He was tall and handsome with long blonde hair, neatly tied back in a ponytail. If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was royalty. His denim shirt had paint stains from all different types of mediums but yet they looked so precise. The posture he stood with screamed pretentious artist however the soft look on his face as he took in the surrounding seemed down to earth. The artist seemed to have walked out of the painting itself, of course, the best way to describe him would be…perfect.

You weren't sure how you managed to sit like a stone through hours of painting but finally, the last artist had finished. In a way that was almost clique, the ground got up and began to roam the gallery of now-finished pieces. All but one. The gentle one from before walked to you with the grace of a dancer. You were startled when he broke the hours of silence.

“Here let me help you down” He extended his hand towards you. Even his voice and the way he offered a hand seemed regal. You didn’t trust your own so instead you gently placed your hand in his and offered a small nod. As you stood up from the chair you lost your balance and the man was quick to catch you. Your red-blushed face met his own, and a small smile appeared on his face as he held you for a split second longer.

“Hyunjin by the way, my name is Hyunjin”

Everything happened so fast after that. Dinner dates, museum dates, walks in the park, high tea in your fanciest gowns, and more modeling. Any outsider would have looked at the collection of photos of you two and thought you were happily together for years. However, in actuality, it had only been a month. What could you say? When something is this perfect, go for it.

Hyunjin was set to be an esteemed guest at an art gallery a few cities over and there was no one he rather take than you, his muse. That is what he called you ever since that fateful meeting. The only issue was that Hyunjin had to be there bright and early for some events happening around the gallery. Plus ones were encouraged to go. How could you say no when he looked at you with those big perfect eyes? Of course, this resulted in you having to spend the night at his place, which you weren’t opposed to. But seeing someone during the day vs at night can be completely different. What if you failed to be his muse once more?

The first hour went smoothly as you two shared a nice home-cooked meal. Hyunjin claims he made it all on his own but his friend Minho accidentally left his wallet on the counter. You giggled to yourself and decided to keep your little secret. A bit of sauce did happen to fall on your white top and begin to settle in. Normally this wouldn't have been a big issue but this top was nice, way too nice for a sleepover, but you didn’t want to seem too plain. You excused yourself to the bathroom and tried to not panic as you washed away the little dot of tomato. However when it began to look like a wet t-shirt contest, panic set in. You managed to sneak over to your suitcase and find a change of clothing. When he questioned the new attire you explained you were getting warm.

The night moved into the art studio where Hyunjin had a surprise. Fairly lights were strung up around the room and dangled from the ceiling. A romantic vinyl spun slowly around the record player. Sage and green tea candles scented the tiny space. In the middle were two white canvases on their easels facing each other. You should be swept off your feet by the pure theatrics of it all but instead, you were mortified. Then he spoke.

“Let's paint each other, my love, and be each other's inspiration” his hand cradled your waist now as he leaned into your ear. “To be each other's muse”

Your fears came true. It wasn't that you were bad at art, you always enjoyed it since you learned how to hold a pencil. But Hyunjin did it professionally, you were far from that. He would make you look like a goddess while you'd make him a troll. Then you saw the childish look in his eyes, something you had never seen before. He was excited. Had you never seen him genuinely excited before? You shook the thought from your head and took your place at the canvas.

It was going better than you thought it would. By no means was your painting one for the art history books but it had a charm to it. Hyunjin on the other hand was not having a good time. He kept cursing under his breath and taking long steps back. Once he noticed you caught on he began saying long phrases in Korean instead. While you didn’t know what he was saying, the tone and infliction were enough to let on to his frustration. At one point he dropped his pallet and threw his hands up in the air as a sign of defeat. You tried to give him a gentle look to ask if he was okay but every time he caught your eye he would look away. Silence hung in the air like a thick smog. Sage and green tea overtook your senses. The fairy lights twinkled at an unnerving rate. Everything seemed far from perfect.

“Jinnie…Jinnie…hey Jin? HYUNJIN” The boom of your voice made him smear his paintbrush across the canvas harshly. You gulped, worried about what would happen next. Preparing yourself for the yelling that was soon to come you began to step away and close yourself off. Hyunjin was taken aback by it all. He stepped towards you and you stepped away. Did you really think he would hurt you? Hyunjins heart broke as he began to speak.

“Baby…angel…Y/N I’m not mad…I promise. I’m upset with myself for not being able to paint you correctly. I know you! I should be able to capture you but every time I look at it I don’t recognize the person in the picture.”

You began to step towards him now, wanting to wipe the tears from his eyes. He came to you seeking comfort. Right as you were about to embrace, someone stepped on a loose fairy lights cord. In a matter of seconds, it all came crashing down. Hyunjin braced you from the fall and you both smashed into the ground. Canvases and paint pallets landed on top of you while lights tied you two up in a bow. It was silent. And then there was laughter. Actual laughter. It was ugly and loud. Hyunjins whole body shook as he couldn't stop laughing with his whole self. You joined in, snorting a few times which made you both howl. Your faces hurt as you both began to come down from that high. Then, the reality set in that you two had never heard each other laugh like this before.

“I figured it out,” Hyunjin said with an out-of-breath sign. You looked at him puzzled. “The person in the painting didn’t feel like you because it wasn’t you, I don’t know you at all.” You began to sit up quickly, ready to run out the door with a broken heart. He grabbed your wrist and sat up with you. “Y/N, the person I painted wasn’t who I fell for” he got up and grabbed a large frame that was flipped around. “This was” With that he showed you the painting he made on the first night you met. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see it yet. He hadn’t painted you as a poised lady propped up in a chair wrapped in silk. Instead, he opted for the moment where, when you thought no one was looking, you yawned and then giggled a bit. Everything was perfect down to the way you stretched your feet to a point and how your eyes closed tight. It hit you, his muse wasn’t you in an expensive gown on fancy dates. His muse was the real you.

He leaned down in front of you and offered a sweet smile. “How about we start again? Hi my name is Hyunjin”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

133 notes · View notes

5eraphim · 8 months

Note

If you are okay with any poly asks/requests how about Demo and Soldier (kidnap) take their partner (afab) out to a random forest and hunt them down (primal play) because they were being a brat and teasing them.

(Soldier would have great tracking skills considering he is canonically friends with raccoons. And Demo would have a blast.)

This was HEAVILLY inspired by the Robert Hansen music video by SKYND. legit heard this song for the first time i think a week ago and I knew right away it was the perfect inspiration for this story. i don't know why my brain allowed this request to gather dust for months, but then heard one song that goes hard and then finishes it in a few days?? as always, i apologize for taking forever, but more importantly thank you for the request, i hope you like how this turned out.

Title: Hunting Party

Characters: The Soldier 🦅 and Demoman 🐏

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Noncon, death threats, stalking, blades, guns/getting shot, Dark! Characterization, outdoor sex, double penetration, rough, AFAB reader/female terms used, fearplay, primal play, blood, depersonalization, boot licking, bukkake, threeway

Word Count: 5.2k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"When you become separated or isolated in a hostile area, your evasion and survival skills will determine whether or not you return to friendly lines... With training, equipment, and the will to survive, you can overcome any obstacle you may face. You will survive. Understand the emotional states associated with survival. "Knowing thyself" is extremely important in a survival situation." U.S. Army Ranger handbook (Chapter 14, Sections 1-2)

"When you're on the march, act the way you would if you were sneaking up on a deer. See the enemy first" Major Robert Rogers, 1759

The sun began to set a little lower, and you were painfully lost in the middle of the woods. Your hands were cold; a bitter wind blew from behind, rustling the shriveled mid-autumn leaves over your head. It must've been hours, shambling fruitlessly through the dense forest, searching for an exit, praying you would find a way out before something else found you first.

For some reason, you couldn't remember exactly what happened earlier during the day leading up to this situation. You'd woken up disoriented, your head aching, and with no knowledge of where you were or how you wound up here. It hurt to move upon awakening, your head felt heavy and slow with drowsiness, and your joints were stiff and protested moving too quickly. It took much time and concentration to ease your body out of the fetal position you awoke from. A worn, dingy-smelling sleeping bag was the only thing separating your body from the cold ground. While a hooded jacket, long work pants, and thick-soled boots helped save you from the chill, your fingers were freezing after being exposed to the cold air unmoving for so long. As you began to rub them together to work up some friction to bring the feeling back into your hands, you spotted a rock pinning a slip of paper to the far corner of the sleeping bag where you'd be sure to find it.

You reached out to read the note,

"You've been getting too comfortable slacking off. You ought to learn how to take your job seriously. It's time you remember who you answer to. Let's see if you can get out of this one on your own."

"We'll give you a few hours headstart. Good luck."

Beneath the message, you recognized the messy signatures of two comrades, the Demoman and the Soldier. For a moment, you sat there motionless, holding the note in your hands, unsure if this was all some elaborate practical joke. Though you had to admit, if there were two people you knew who would try to teach you a lesson by forcing you into a near-death experience, it would be these two.

Eventually, you forced yourself to your feet, ultimately accepting that if you wanted to get out, you'd have to find it on your own. It wasn't long until paranoia began to set in. Whenever you heard rustling from the bushes, a twig snap, or any other sign of movement in the distance, you instantly froze up, looking around and over your shoulder, expecting to see them there.

The sound of a rifle firing in the distance stopped you dead in your tracks. Any fleeting hope that all this was some "game" died at that moment. "They wouldn't kill me; they couldn't possibly go through with it; there's no way they would go so far just because you broke a few rules…" You reasoned internally, but even if you didn't think they were out to kill you, not knowing what they had planned felt much more sinister. While the shot resounded far in the distance, you got the message loud and clear: You weren't alone anymore. Your headstart was over, and the hunt was on.

Forcing yourself to stop looking behind, you faced forward and began bolting at full speed straight ahead, treading as quietly as possible to avoid making too much noise. The sun was setting faster now, causing the shadows in the woods to stretch further in the dwindling light, though it was cold comfort, as once the sun set entirely, you knew you didn't have a prayer of finding your way out.

From a distance behind, you could hear Demo's voice, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty-"

His little taunt sent a chill down your spine, only spurring you on all the faster.

"Come out, come out wherever you aa-are!" After this, you could hear the two of them taunting you from behind, and you could swear you could even hear them getting closer, beginning to close the distance between you and them.

"I'm NOT prey! I'm not going to let him get to me! I'll be free soon; I won't let them win!" You weren't a piece of meat for them to stalk and slaughter; you had to keep reminding yourself. They were taunting you, trying to get in your head, mind games, and nothing more. While you still had a decent amount of distance between you and them, you continued to move as stealthily as possible, darting from shadow to shadow, keeping your weight mainly on the balls of your feet, crouching toe-first through the foliage to keep your steps as silent. Overhead, a crow cried out abruptly, startling you and forcing you to cover your mouth with your hands to keep from crying out. You knew if they weren't hot on your trail before, they knew now exactly where you were. You were unable to keep from trembling as you heard footsteps echoing closer.

For just one moment, you faltered, considering briefly if you stopped running, you had a chance of trying to negotiate with them, reasoning if you surrendered, maybe they would go easy on you. After all, they'd enjoyed the thrill of tracking you down, stalking you through the woods 'till they were right behind. Wasn't that enough?

In a split second, you stopped running, knowing the two were right around the corner; you slowed to a stop, forcing yourself to stand your ground on shaky legs, knowing your hunters were right around the corner. Though the moment you were caught in Solly's crosshairs, he didn't wait for a second before pulling the trigger, sending a bullet ripping past you, clipping your hip as it fired past you.

In a matter of seconds, you went from looking at the men before you to the forest floor as you fell face-forward, using your arms to brace your fall as you screamed in pain as hot blood oozed down the side of your leg. By the grace of God, the bullet hadn't lodged inside of you, though you had no clue if that was on purpose or not. It was far from the worst pain you've felt before, but it was enough to quickly down you. You could hear the sound of the two drawing closer but were in too much pain to look up as you curled into the fetal position, drawing as inward as tight as possible, as though that would save you.

They won. You were downed and bleeding at their feet with nothing to protect yourself. Nearly all your energy and will to fight back was drained, and you felt like a lamb seconds before the slaughter. You were terrified during the chase but managed to keep your wits about you. But your sanity was slipping fast. Despite everything, you had a bad feeling the bullet-graze wound would be only the start of your pain tonight. You cowered beneath a massive oak, illuminated by the flashlight attached to Solly's rifle. Pushing yourself off the ground with a grunt, you force yourself to sit back up, your knees propped up under your chin.

You glared up at the man from your position sprawled out on the ground as he glared at you with an expression of equal anger, "What's the matter, cadet? No more fight left in ya?"

As if you could try and keep running, even if you wanted to. But seeing Solly's loaded rifle pointed at you kept you from saying anything sarcastic for fear of upsetting him. Trying to choose your words carefully, you asked, "Is this the end of the hunt?"

Solly sneered, "Do you surrender?"

Trying not to sound snarky, you answered, "Do you think I could run away like this?"

"He asked ya a question- Do ya surrender?" Demo interrupted. Though he didn't have a firearm pointed at you, the throwing ax in his hand frightened you worse than Solly's rifle.

You nodded, having already accepted defeat. "Fine. You win, I surrender… Now what?"

"It depends. Have you learned your lesson?" Solly spoke, lowering his weapon slightly.

"What?" you questioned, almost shrill with annoyance and fear. The blood seeped in throbbing pulses from your hip, disorienting you to the world around you, and trying to decipher what these two maniacs wanted only furthered your confusion.

Thankfully, rather than lashing out again, Solly explained in his usual gruff, authoritative tone, "You're always slacking off on missions and at work back at base! Trying to ditch work and head out early! You are the laziest Engineer to ever work for our team! If Dell saw what you've done in his place, he'd shoot you! You're a disgrace to your class, you runt!"

Was that what this was all about!? "Dell, you overachieving son of a bitch!" You mentally cursed. It was tough to be an Engineer when held to the impossibly high standard set by your predecessor. You loved Dell; everybody loved Dell. But you couldn't help feeling irked whenever your work was compared to his, as no matter how hard you tried, he always found some way to upstage you. While you loved your job and working with the team, there was simply no competing with a guy like Dell. The man was a third-generation Engineer. All his life, engineering was all he knew. He was practically bred for this job. He gave everything he had to work, and it showed. Dell was nothing less than a master at his craft. You wanted to hate him for this, for showing you up, for acting so modestly and earnestly when others praised his work, even though you could tell from the look in his eye he loved every second of it. But you still couldn't hate Dell; nobody could.

It hurt to wonder if you'd ever see Dell again. Your heart throbbed as you feared these two might just be deranged enough to go through with this, killing you in cold blood far into the wilderness where no one could hear you scream. There was no Medic here to tend to your injuries, you had no idea how far away the respawn machine was, and you had a bad feeling whatever happened to you out here wouldn't go away so quickly. And there was a good chance these two would be the last thing you'd see before you died.

The longer the two stared you down, the harder it became to keep your head clear. You were terrified to be held at their mercy with no idea what they wanted from you. You broke the silence, your voice unsteady and panicked, slightly rasping on account of how dry your throat became during the hunt. "What do you want me to tell you? I won't leave early anymore? I'll work faster? Whatever it is you want, I'll do it! C'mon, this has gone on long enough!"

Solly appeared chillingly indifferent to your pleas for mercy. "I'm not convinced."

You grunted in desperation, turning your attention from Solly to his partner, "Demo, you show up to work shitfaced every day, and you're really going to call me a slacker!?"

His eyes were only somewhat unfocused, bearing the telltale sign of his usual intoxication, which narrowed slightly at your dig against him. "I don't need to be sober to make my bombs or to chuck 'em. And I'll shove one down your gullet right now if ya need me to prove it." You straightened and went rigid at the threat, even if he wouldn't deliver. It was disquieting to know how inclined to violence he was now.

Solly crept forward just an inch as though spurred on by your reaction. "If you want us to get you out of the woods so soon, cadet, we could chop you up right here. Take your head home with us, and keep it on the wall. Let everyone on base know what happens to slackers."

"Look- I'm sorry for letting you down, really, I promise I am! But I'm not a slacker! I'll do better, I swear! Please, let's just go home- we're teammates, right? Let's get back to base, and we'll straighten all of this out." You desperately tried to think of any way to negotiate out of this without promising anything drastic. You wanted to argue with their emotional side, remind them you were friends, and convince them to end this terrible game. The sun set lower during your confrontation, and it was too dark to make out anyone's expression clearly, but you had little faith that either of them was convinced.

Demo snickered, lowering himself to sit back on his haunches, meeting you at eye level, "But we're not back at the base, now are we? Out here, ya ain't a comrade. You're less than an enemy, yer our prey. An' the prey don't' make orders."

Instinctively, you shifted away nervously, wanting to protect what little distance you had left between the two maniacs. Demo still had his hand wrapped around a throwing ax, and you couldn't take your eyes off it. The wicked polished metal of the ax's blade caught the flashlight's beam, reflecting menacingly.

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be so scared- we'll be gentle." Demo spoke with condescending sweetness, enjoying the visible fear on your face. You gasped in fear as you saw Demo's arm holding the ax move, as he made a show of striking the ground by his feet, wedging the weapon into the earth, remaining upright even as he pulled his hand away. You could hear them laughing, watching you flinch and yelp in fear at the fake-out.

Demo teased, "Still spooked? Why? I thought ye said we were all friends here?" He raised both palms facing you to show you his empty hands, "I'm not gonna hurt ye. The ax is gone. Now come here." He used his pointed finger to gesture for you to come closer, though, at the moment, you were so paralyzed with fear you doubted you could comply even if you wanted to.

The Demo wasn't pleased by your hesitance, "Don't make me come over there an' getcha myself."

It was beyond stupid to try and defy either of the men in your condition, but Demo didn't even give you time to react as he lurched forward with shocking agility, grabbing you by the collar. The action caught you by surprise, and your legs almost instantly gave out from under you, giving you just seconds to break the fall with your arms as you landed belly-down in the dirt.

He asked, "Looks like ya got a lil blood on your shirt, lass- let me help you out of it."

Your clothes were the last of your worries, and he knew it. You could only whine with grief as you heard Demo unearthing his ax to rip the shirt from collar to tail, then from the collar down the sleeves. Slicing your poor shirt to ribbons before pulling the useless fabric away, before doing the same to your bra. As he worked, he sat down on your ass, his weight pinning you in place. While you hated being forced into such a position, you dared not move or try to buck him off while he had an ax directly above your vulnerable body. The cold against your naked flesh made you prickle with discomfort as you listened to him fiddling with something behind you.

"Alright now, lassie, I want you to put your hands behind your back." Demo spoke with a deceptively calm voice, gentler than he'd spoken to you the entire time you'd been in the woods. You shivered in the cold but nevertheless did as you were told. Though just as your arms were in place behind your back, you felt cold metal wrap around them, and the sound of handcuffs locking them into place, you instinctively tried to lurch forward.

Demo laughed out loud in amusement as he felt you wriggling beneath his weight, trying to worm your way out of this while your hands flapped pathetically against the cuffs.

"Got Em locked in place for ya. 'Bout time for a real apology from this one, wouldn't ya say?"

"What the hell does he mean by a real apology?" You wondered- wasn't that what you were doing this whole time? Arching your back as high up off the ground as possible, you tried to look Solly in the eye, "But- I just, do I need to repeat it? I'm sorry I let you guys down; I swear it won't happen again! I swear on my life! I'll say it again and again if I have to." Your voice cracked, and you continued in a much quieter, frail tone, "Isn't that enough?"

Solly merely smiled down at you, shaking his head slowly before lowering himself before you, down on one knee, his boot directly in front of your face.

"I want to see you prove it. Do you want me to believe you'll start doing as you're told? Start now. I want you to kiss my boot."

You cringed hearing this, eyeing the grime caked on his shoes with contempt, though with a sickening certainty, he was dead serious. He nudged his shoe a little closer to your face, watching you wince at the sight of them. You were so tired, and begging was beyond pointless by now. The best you could muster was a half-hearted glance up at Solly, searching for a shred of humanity yet seeing nothing but grim excitement from the man.

You lowered your head closer to his boot, trying to steel your resolve and to try and get this over with as fast as possible, though as soon as you got close enough for the tip of your nose to graze the boot's leather, you involuntarily gagged at the muddy smell, knowing you were about to put your mouth directly there.

You could feel your face heating with humiliation as you heard the two men laughing at your misery. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to go again, holding your breath to avoid enduring the smell. Shutting your eyes, you gave a light kiss to the leather as quickly as you could before pulling away again. Miraculously, you'd escaped without any dirt on your mouth, though the after-feeling the boot's leather left on your lips was revolting enough.

Taking your chin in his rough hand, he tilted your face up in his direction. Solly grumbled, "You can do better than that cadet- do it again."

Your jaw dropped; how could he still need more from you? "But you said-"

"And now I'm saying do it again!" He grasped your face a little tighter before letting go. It wasn't painful, but in such a vulnerable position, you couldn't help but yelp in pain as you anxiously looked down at the dirty boot.

You felt so broken down and humiliated you wanted to cry, but your will to escape this situation outweighed the fear. Drawing in another deep breath, you forced your head back down. Just as you were about to leave another quick kiss, you felt Solly's hand clamp down on the back of your neck, pushing your head forward and forcing you to keep your lips locked harder against his boot. You wretched at the feeling of muck on the corner of your lips through grit teeth. It hurt to keep holding your breath, but you endured anyway as Solly forced you to remain in the compromising position.

When he eventually let your neck go, your head shot up at once as you spat. No dirt entered your mouth, and you could feel it on your lips as you tried to rub it off on your shoulder. From behind, you felt Demo's hand squeeze your shoulder, "Atta, girl! I knew ya had it in ya!"

You were about to try and wriggle your shoulder out of his hold, but to your surprise, Demo climbed off your back willingly as Solly rose from his kneel in front of you. You had no idea why he did it until you heard Solly sneaking up close behind you before speaking,

"Let me look at the wound." Obviously, he was talking to himself as if you could take off your bloodied, dirt-smeared work pants. Using the same ax Demo used to separate your shirt from your body, Solly tore the denim fabric directly over your rear, forcing the waist to widen enough for him to slip them off. He struggled, trying to pull them down over your heavy-duty work boots before he pulled those off as well. Your undergarments slipped off along with your trousers, leaving you without a single remaining shred of decency.

The frigid air ran over your wound with chilly needle-like pricks, and you could tell Solly had re-opened the wound, pulling your pants off causing fresh, hot blood to spill over the crusted dry wound.

From his position on the sidelines, Demo whistled lowly, apparently impressed seeing the wound no longer obstructed by clothing. "Nice shootin! That's a deep one, alright!"

Biting down on your cheek, you felt Solly's thick fingers awkwardly prodding at the sensitive, wounded flesh. You knew better than to hope Solly had any intention of patching you up; he only stripped you down like this to appraise his work. You weren't a wounded comrade to him; you were nothing more than his prey.

Solly crouched beside you, stroking his fingers against your hip, barely grazing the wound as he growled, "You're not sneaky. You Engineers, couped up in your little nests all day, bet you love it when you get in on the action. Bet you love getting roughed up like this."

Forcing yourself to face him, you shook your head; it was pointless to try and reason with him; whatever logic he was running on now, you couldn't hope to comprehend.

He grinned, watching you continue struggling and cling to your last desperate hope of escaping. "Or do you just like the attention? You slack off to get us frustrated- it turns you on, doesn't it? I bet you've been waiting for this, waiting for someone to come and teach you a lesson."

Even with just your clothes torn off, before either of them really got their hands on you or even fully undressed, a pit of self-resentment settled in your stomach, and as you lay there with your hands cuffed behind your back and your belly in the dirt you couldn't help but blame yourself for all this. "If only you'd done your job like you were supposed to, you wouldn't be here! For God's sake, why couldn't you just do what you're told!" you mentally scolded, feeling the long-since burning shame intensifying slightly. To your disgust, you glanced at Solly as he picked up your inside-out, discarded pants, finding the area torn up by his bullet thickly saturated with blood. He held the scrap up to his nose, inhaling deeply, moaning as he exhaled and grunted with satisfaction. You recoiled, but he looked back at you, his face sickeningly amused, "You've been a fine little game to hunt- shame it all ends here."

You sobbed, "Please, you don't need to go through with this! You had your fun; I've learned my lesson; you don't need to take this any further!"

You could hear Demo chuckling behind you, "Aw, she must think the fun's already over. Poor lassie."

There wasn't enough light to make anything out, and you were too broken to look either of them in the face any longer. The two men worked like one, positioning you exactly how they wanted to take you. You could feel Demo's hands on your hips, guiding you back and positioning you to straddle his lap. His hands tickled the sides of your body as his fingers ran up and down your skin in a mocking gesture of comfort. Demo's belly brushed against your back as he held you square and in place while Solly undressed. You felt Demo grinding his hard dick against your inner thigh, his strong hands keeping you locked in place despite your instinct to pull away from the unwanted advance. As unpleasant as the contact was, you were still shivering from the cold and secretly enjoyed the fleeting sensation of his body heat against your skin before he leaned back away from you. His gut, well padded by a layer of adipose over his stocky muscles and broad frame, felt warm against your shivering body. Demo was warm, but he sure wasn't comforting.

It didn't last long; as Solly drew nearer, Demo lay back, keeping you upright on his lap. You felt Solly's fist grab you by the hair, jerking you forward without warning; the sudden pain made you tense up, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

Solly growled, "Consider this overtime slacker. You'd better keep up."

You could feel Solly was already turned on from the thrill of tracking you down and forcing you to degrade yourself in front of himself and Demo. And sickeningly, you realized he probably got turned on watching his friend man-handling you, his little cadet, before forcing you to stay upright and obediently in place, waiting for him to get in on the action.

Solly smirked, looking over your shoulder at Demo, "What do ya say, will you do the honors of going in first?"

It was a sick joke, knowing they were just moments away from forcing you to endure both at once. Demo laughed lazily, "Cheers, lad."

It was agonizingly slow, feeling Demo force himself inside of you. Unfortunately, you realized he was naturally well endowed, and feeling his manhood pushing inside made you cry out in pain. He was already fully erect and even slightly lubed by a bit of spit he crudely coated his shaft with, though it hardly made any of this easier on your end. You weren't turned on and could focus on nothing but the awful burning stretch of Demo splitting you open.

Solly had the grace to wait for his co-conspirator to fully situate himself inside before he joined in. You felt Demo's bruising hold on your thighs, forcefully rocking you forward as he started thrusting up. The entire time Demo worked on you from below, Solly had your hair in his fist, using it to jerk your head up to look at him, forcing you to give him your full attention again.

Solly growled, "Use your teeth, and you're dead; I mean it. Unless you want me to force it up your ass, you better behave, got it?"

You forced yourself to nod, trying to push down the nauseating disgust. As Solly shuffled forward a little bit, you trembled with fear, and you were almost too scared to move when you felt his head prod against your mouth.

This hesitance resulted in another harsh tug against your head. "Open up. Now."

It was a simple command, but one you weren't sure you were strong enough to carry out. But with Solly's threat ringing in the back of your mind, you forced yourself to comply, trying not to jerk away or give him any further reason to punish you.

The Demo had slowed down a little, though he kept himself painfully deep inside as he wanted to get a good look as his friend continued to violate you. Clearly getting off on your suffering as he throbbed watching all this unfold.

The feeling of both inside made you sick to your core, but you tried as hard as possible to close your eyes and think of anything but where you were now as the two began moving in earnest. You could hear Demo grunting with exertion and arousal as he picked up his pace, forcing you to ride his lap while he chased his climax. The pain of struggling to breathe with Solly's cock in your mouth made you gag, your tongue awkwardly writhing against him with uncoordinated movements. It would have been a blessing to feel his precum beginning to dribble down your throat if it wasn't so vile.

Just as he was about to burst, you felt Solly retracting quickly, keeping your head in place with his fist in your hair and your face up, looking up at him. You coughed and wheezed as you forced full gulps of air into your lungs before you were caught by surprise when you felt him shooting his seed directly onto your face. The gunk landed in the center of your face, leaking down over your mouth and chin. The foul stuff falling in thick droplets down your chin and neck. Unfortunately, you accidentally inhaled a rogue splatter of semen in the process, the feeling of the warm, sticky residue making you wretch loudly despite the small amount.

In the moment, you weren't even sure you felt human anymore. You were so beaten down by the past few hours psychologically and physically that you felt hollow and numb inside. Likely, it would be a while before the terror and disgust truly set in, but right now, you were nothing but a warm body, a scrap of meat. Chewed up and spat back out by a couple of predators.

At some point, Demo pulled out after keeping himself buried inside you long after he climaxed, enjoying the feeling of your warm body stretched around his sensitive cock. But you had no idea how long that was, and it wasn't until you felt Demo carefully shuck you off his lap to get back on his feet and redress that you realized he'd already come.

You weren't even relieved when they eventually let go, feeling the cold ground below your bare skin as you waited motionless, watching the two pull their clothes back on with dull, vacant eyes. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't even feel yourself crying; you were too tired, practically dead to the world. As you pouted, you felt as impotent as a child, waiting for your guardian to take you back home and let you rest. But the men before you were no guardians, and you had no idea how long it would be until you returned to your own bed.

"You did better than I thought, cadet. I always knew you were holding out on us." Now fully dressed, Solly appeared to take a moment to appraise you honestly, scanning you up and down, mentally evaluating how serious your wounds would become in the morning."What'd you think, Demo? Has she earned a lift back home yet?"

Your head throbbed, and your vision spun too much to focus clearly on Demo's face, though even you could see the cold-hearted smile as he held his chin in his fist, pretending to ponder the question to further draw out your suffering. By now, your mind had already begun to shut itself down in the name of self-preservation.

You looked up, seeing two men you recognized but who you would never see as comrades, much less friends, again. You didn't feel like an Engineer anymore, or even human. You felt like nothing more than slaughtered prey in the den of a predator. Cruelly left alive to bleed out with no idea what would come next.

"Ah, I suppose she's earned it. We ought to let her off easy for such good behavior."

His eyes shined with excitement as he regarded the pitiful state you'd been reduced to with pride as he continued, "But, the night is still so young. It'd be a shame to bring her home right away, wouldn't ya say?"

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

work song. | joel miller

Abstract: He wishes he could reach over as he does in darkness, wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, making her gasp and giggle and fall into him, finding her place in the bent of his arms, head tucked under his chin so that they’re locked together like puzzle pieces.

But he can’t move, and the gasp that falls from her lips is not the one he wants to hear.

Words: 1.8k

Content: f!reader; MAJOR tlou2 spoilers, character’s death, mentions of child’s death, blood and wounds, angst, mentions of explicit scenes but nothing graphic, mentions of alcohol

A/N: heavily inspired by hozier’s work song. i don’t know where this came from and i’m sorry. writing is a little experimental

also on AO3 - masterlist

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

Joel, get up.

It echoes distantly, the words in a voice so familiar it almost pulls him back from the dull pain all across his body - Ellie, his Ellie.

Joel, fucking get up.

One breath, two. There’s a coppery taste in his mouth, and he can’t see her, but she’s there, his Ellie. Angry and pleading, she sounds like she’s just out of reach, and his hand twitches. Maybe he can get to her, crawl across the floor to where she’s breathing hard and please stop! Please don’t do this… Joel, please get up!

It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s oddly quiet, and then the ringing starts - there’s no more blood coating his tongue, or his teeth, but it’s still awfully dark, and where’s Ellie?

A scream, a sob, the low-lit room spins around him and there she is, pinned to the ground as her shoulders shake with her sobs as the ringing goes on and on and on and -

I’ll fucking kill you…

No, he wants to say, don’t do that, don’t go down that road, sweet girl, it’s alright, it was going to be this way sooner or later. There’s no point in being angry, it was bound to happen - he knew that, he still does, it’s alright. Besides, he should add, you know she doesn’t like to see you angry. Either of us, really.

He wonders where she is. When the room is empty but for him and Ellie, he wonders where she is - she’s never too far from either of them, she’s always looking out for them, looking after them, caring for them, even when they drift apart. Sweet as the cherries that grow as a miracle in their backyard.

He wonders where she is.

When she first found him, Jackson still felt like a fever dream, too good to be true.

The alcohol didn’t taste as cheap as the one from the QZ, and he drank and drank and drank and yet it was her he got drunk on - her laughter (how could someone laugh so brightly after all that happened?) and her smile (how long had those lines etched themselves into her skin?) and her jokes (how drunk are you, really, to find this funny? whispered with her shoulder pressed to his).

He knew Tommy and Maria had set them up, his brother had said it loud and clear - and so did she, Maria fixing her hair at the door when she first got there making her laugh.

“I don’t mind,” they were alone when she said it, the glass in her hand almost empty as she leaned into him. “It’s a bit like old times, is it not? Meddling younger brothers and friends.”

Christ, he could lose himself in her smile.

He went home with her that night, his jacket resting over her shoulders and a kiss at the front door - like old times. He would’ve lingered there, before. He would’ve whispered goodnight in the doorway, letting the word echo in the house before walking away. He would’ve looked over his shoulder, would’ve seen his jacket still on her and grinned - a promise of returning, a thread keeping them together.

But it was not just like old times, because time was not something he thought he had just yet. Every day could be the last, could it not? That’s what he had gotten used to outside.

And so the kiss turned into two and three and more and the door closed behind them both, with his jacket falling to the floor where it’d stay the night, while he’d spend it trapped in the space between her thighs, a warm embrace more dizzying than any alcohol had ever been - before, in the QZ, in Jackson.

In the morning he’d notice an empty room across the corridor from hers, the door open to show a single bed and some old toys - that thread he thought could belong only to the past wrapped itself around him. It kept them together, day after night after day, with whispers in the crook of his neck of what once was, what would never be again.

But they had one another.

“Don’t you ever worry I might’ve done something awful to get here?”

“To get to me?” sometimes she touched his face as if to make sure he was real. He’d kiss her hands then, hardened by time, by the fight. “We’ve all done awful things. You can’t survive out there if you’re a nice person.”

“You’re a good person.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t nice,” he had forgotten what cherries tasted like - he remembered each time she kissed him that summer. “You did what you had to to survive. To help Ellie survive. You’re a good person, too.”

He could die knowing she believed him good, but he did not want to anymore.

She still believed him good, even after Ellie told her what he’d done.

He should’ve known Ellie was going to - the kid loved her as much as he did. Why would she want her to be with a selfish liar? With someone who’d taken away the possibility of salvation? With the man who was the reason her kid had turned?

“Nothing could’ve saved my son, Joel,” a bitter whisper, a knowledge she lived with daily and still hurt in the middle of the night. “But you saved Ellie. That girl is alive because of you.”

“At what cost?”

“Her life - she was just a kid. She still is. The weight of the world should’ve never rested on her shoulders,” it was such a drastic difference, her soft voice in the lowlights of their porch (he had not dared getting inside the house to confess, because he feared having to walk out) compared to Ellie’s anger thrown in screams at his face. “You’re not a bad person for caring about her - you’re just still human. She’ll come around.”

“She won’t. She’s right. And she’s stubborn.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” soft and sweet she took his hand and led him towards the door, a home he did not expect to have ever again and that she still offered to him, in spite of everything. “Anger doesn’t suit either of you.”

Was that the forgiveness he deserved? Still having a house, a bed, still having her?

Her steps echo around him like they do at night when she gets up to go drink, because she always forgets to bring a glass to her nightstand.

He wishes he could reach over as he does in darkness, wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, making her gasp and giggle and fall into him, finding her place in the bent of his arms, head tucked under his chin so that they’re locked together like puzzle pieces.

But he can’t move, and the gasp that falls from her lips is not the one he wants to hear.

It gets stuck in the back of her throat and he feels her gaze on him with Ellie’s, and the tears in their eyes make his still heart ache.

“Shit,” it’s Dina holding her up for a moment - he likes Dina. They both do. She’s good, a good person, good for Ellie.

“Go to Ellie,” her voice sounds so different. Leveled and cold and foreign - it lacks her joy. It almost isn’t her voice at all. “That’s alright - go to Ellie. I’m alright.”

Her lips twitch when she lies - it’s an almost imperceptible movement, the corner of her mouth going up and down once the lie gets past her lips. It’s funny, he thinks, how he got to know her so deeply - he spent over 20 years believing he would never get close enough to anybody else to do that, but now he can tell by the quirk of her lips that she’s lying.

That she’s not alright.

That when she kneels by Ellie and brushes her tears away, her hair back, the thread is about to snap. That when she rests her forehead to Ellie’s and calls her baby girl, the crack in her voice is the reason she says nothing else - she can’t, not without falling apart.

He hates it. He hates to see Ellie cry, he hates to see her hands tremble as she and Dina help her up. He hates that she has to be strong, put on a brave face. He’s the one who’s supposed to do that.

Perhaps he can still crawl to them. Hold them both. Carry them home.

“You got her?” Dina nods to her, her arms holding Ellie’s almost limp body. “I’m staying with him, I - just leave me a moment.”

She makes her way across the floor slowly, without even getting up, and her shoulders are shaking as she reaches his side. The door closes behind Dina and Ellie, and she lets out a broken sob as their steps get more distant.

He wants to tell her to not get any closer, that she’ll get blood on her clothes and that’s impossible to take out nowadays, but she’s lowering her head to his and now tears are dwelling in her eyes and her jeans are getting soaked at the knees as she brushes her lips to his forehead. He can almost feel it.

She should say something, she thinks, but words tangle and twist in her chest, making it ache as she cradles his broken face, trying and trying and trying to get the blood off but the wounds are still open, still bleeding, and he’s still warm, and her sleeves can only get so much away.

She keeps trying, even when tears blur her vision and she almost can’t recognise him anymore, her touch so soft and gentle as if she’s afraid of hurting him, her Joel, her love.

She’ll stay there until the others will find Tommy, and then, even if he’s as broken as she is, he’ll pull her away from his brother’s body - it becomes a chain, one trying to be strong for the other.

Eventually, all will fail.

It’ll be Tommy finding her again, days later, kneeling on the cold dark earth by Joel’s headstone - the tears will have long dried, but her hands will still tremble.

For a while, Joel is grateful for his brother, same way as he’s grateful for Dina - they care for his girls the way he was supposed to, and they try and take care of each other, because it’s each other they need the most in his absence.

Eventually, that’ll fail too - for a while.

“Revenge will not bring him back, Ellie,” she’s still gentle in the face of Ellie’s fury - yet it’s all for nothing. For a while.

Months later, she’ll still be there to wait for her and pick up Joel’s guitar. She’ll still be there to welcome her home and hold her through the night on a single bed, surrounded by old toys, and a broken watch on her wrist.

#redahlia #work song #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 spoilers #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters

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kyanitedreamer · 6 days

Text

Alone Together

Hiei x (Fem)Reader

————————————————————————

Author’s Note: This fic came from the inspiration I got from reading other user’s works about Hiei and being such a huge fan of his character. Mainly written for me and my friend a fellow Hiei enjoyer, this is kind of a feel good type fic that has a lot of buildup playing on his curiosity and softer side. When I first wrote this I never thought about posting it anywhere, but the more I wrote the happier I was with it, and near the end I realized how proud I was of it and wanted to share it around. I may be posting another part or two, and if I do, feel free to send me an ask with suggestions if you liked this one :) enjoy!

TW: Blood, Hickeys, Biting, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Pinning Down, Minors DNI, 18+

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Everyone had been asking why you were suddenly taking a different route home from class, not walking with your “friends”, and even going a good distance out of your way. Your explanation was always the same, that you just like being able to walk by the water - a lie of course. Your interest wasn’t so much the water glistening during the sunset, but a person who sometimes could be found there. Ever since you were young you’d seen and felt things you couldn’t explain, like the creature that knocked aside your parents car like a toy back when you were in middle school. Of course no one believed you, that your parent’s death in that crash was no accident, so you had learned to keep whatever you were seeing and feeling to yourself. Maybe that’s what drew you to him, the dark haired boy dressed in black, sometimes laying in the grass by the river other times miraculously standing on telephone poles nearby. You never really gave how he got up there much thought, all you knew was that like you, he seemed to be so alone.

Finally, you reach the river and like everyday, give a cautious glance around for the mysterious boy. Despite your numerous trips this way passing him, you’d never dared speak to him or even given him more than a passing glance. You’ve put yourself out there far too many times in an attempt to make friends, only to have your hand slapped away. It was enough that you and the boy could share in this moment of silence together as you strolled by, that, and your own imagination. But looking down the street you notice him, with a group, and your heart sinks. You retreat back behind the building, sliding down the side of it to sit on the ground, pulling your legs in. Of course he’s not alone, no one would be as lonely as you are.

You lean out from the side of the building to get a look at them all. The tallest one had orange hair in a pompadour, which was….certainly a style choice. Both him and the other dark haired guy looked rather plain, average even. The third guy had pretty features and long red hair, and then there was him. Though you’d never noticed before quite how short he is, it hardly seemed to matter, as his voice and demeanor easily dominated the conversation when he felt the need. You suddenly felt your face turning red, and realized you probably shouldn’t think about him and “dominate” in the same sentence. You shake your head to dismiss such thoughts and then you notice his ear twitch ever so slightly, he motions to turn his head but you’ve already retreated back behind the building. After a moment, you dare another peek and try to focus on what they’re saying, the boy seems to be disagreeing with something. Suddenly through the groups arguing you hear “C’mon Hiei”, which he seems to answer to.

“Hiei” you repeat back to yourself under your breath, though somehow he seems to have heard and whips around in place, and you can no longer be sure if he was able to see you as you darted back into hiding. Still you listen as they seem to resume talking, causing you to sigh in relief. You sit for a while with your eyes shut, listening for them to finally leave so you can finish walking home. Letting your mind wander, you think about how you’ll go about trying to approach him the next time you come this way. Not that you’d ever have the courage to do something as bold as that, besides you feel it’s doubtful he’d be interested in someone like you anyways.

After some time you hear them saying goodbyes and breathe a small sigh of relief, you open your eyes to get ready to go and yelp involuntarily. There Hiei stood mere inches from you, his stature meaningless since you are sitting on the ground. He stares daggers at you saying nothing, perhaps expecting you to merely flee yet you sit there frozen, staring at him as well like cornered prey. After a moment, your heart begins to pound in your chest, you’ve passed him countless times but never been this close. As much as you hate to admit it, you enjoy having him stand over you like this, right now he may as well be 8 feet tall. You yourself feeling so small and helpless, your mind spirals thinking about the possible things he could do to you. Suddenly, Hiei also blushes, seeming almost embarrassed and angry.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT??” he blurts out before turning around seemingly to hide his face as he seethes.

“I…what?”

“Listen girl, I’m a demon, it would take less than a second for me to kill you.” He says turning around and pointing at you accusingly. “The idea of what I could do to you that would stimulate your sexual human desires should be the last thing on your mind! Now who are you, why were you listening in on our conversation and what are you doing here?”

You sigh, tell him your name and continue on to explain everything, he listens but clearly seems annoyed nonetheless. It feels rather strange that Hiei was just a stranger a few minutes ago, yet you find yourself so comfortable with him, demon or no. Hiei is surprisingly silent even as you finish explaining, perhaps some part of him understands your feelings, or maybe he’s just being polite - not that he seems like the type.

“So, is it…still okay if I come this way after school? Maybe talk with you?” You ask sheepishly, Hiei merely giving a vacant stare as though considering it, he closes his eyes and turns away.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you that demons can be dangerous, and if you talk don’t expect me to converse with you.” Turning just his head to look at you, Hiei appears to be deep in thought, hesitating even.

“What’s the matter?” You ask tilting your head to the side, confident that he’s merely trying to find the words.

“...What even is ‘making out’ anyways” he says plainly, causing you to snicker a bit but turn red once more all the same. “Those words seemed to cross your mind a lot when I read it earlier, so what is it?”

“Um, well…it’s like you touch your lips together in a kiss but like, over and over. It’s what people do when they have a connection or you know like each-” You barely manage to get your description out at all then abruptly Hiei grips your side pushing you against the wall merely collapsing before he presses his body against yours to hold you up. He is warm, and a scent reminiscent of a campfire wafts about him, using his other hand he cups your face. Hiei’s staring at you once more but now there’s a curiosity in his glare, like he’s studying your reactions and wondering if they’re the right ones. Grabbing you at the back of your neck he pulls you down somewhat - into a kiss, your heart flutters and his warmth seems to spread through your body. After a moment, he pulls away, still keeping your faces touching.

“Is this what you had in mind, how you pictured it?”

You find yourself unable to find the words to answer but manage a few quick nods, Hiei then takes this as reassurance and kisses you again, then again.

Despite supposedly not knowing what making out was, he quickly finds his rhythm, even starting to grip your hair causing you to moan softly. You feel your breath getting heavy and the growing excitement between your legs, when suddenly he stops, pulling back to look at you while quite red himself. Slowly, he pulls away as you get your balance back, then turns on his heels taking a few steps away.

“Interesting.” Hiei says without turning around, and in a flash he’s gone. You slump back against the wall trying to process what just happened, soon enough however, you collect yourself and head home.

————————————————————————

The next day went by in a blur, all you were able to think about was Hiei, about feeling his warmth again. As you walked to the river, you couldn’t help hoping he’d be there and in the mood to talk - among other things. You shook your thoughts away once more, after all Hiei seemed to do what he did out of curiosity more than anything else. Turning the corner to the river, you peek around for your mysterious ‘friend’, and there he was - laying in the grass on the hill without a care in the world. Doing your best to still your rapidly beating heart, you approach, stopping once the sidewalk meets the grass.

“Hey Hiei, it’s me *****.” you provide your name again half expecting him to have forgotten you, he doesn’t open his eyes but answers you nonetheless.

“Yes, I knew it was you, human.”

“Is….it okay if I sit with you?” You request hesitantly, yet Hiei still does not move, hands supporting his head and his dark coat billowing in the wind.

“As I said, do whatever you like.” Hiei answered you plainly, he almost appears mad - frustrated even, although he’s doing his best to hide it.

Regardless you quietly step through the grass and sit a few feet beside him, setting down your bag as well. You sit for a moment enjoying the gentle breeze, the sunset glistening on the river, the soft fresh grass beneath you. You may have been alone and sat in silence for much of your life, but never like this, sitting beside Hiei gave you a comfort you’ve never known. He can struggle to hide it all he likes, but you can sense Hiei more than simply tolerates your presence, perhaps even enjoyed the moment you shared yesterday.

“You have an unusual level of spirit awareness, you know.” Hiei said suddenly, shattering the silence and startling you.

“Spirit Awareness?”

“...Demons can make themselves invisible to humans in this world, I’m doing it right now, and usually am for that matter.” Hiei turns his head towards you and opens a single eye as he talks. “So right now, you look crazier than everyone already seems to think you are.”

“...That’s…fine, I’m comfortable here - with you.” You manage to force the words out while looking away, and when you turn your gaze back, he’s staring at you. It’s just like yesterday, he’s gauging your reactions, searching for anything you might be holding back. You get the distinct impression he doesn’t spend much time around people, and he’s learned to be cautious, never risking giving something away he shouldn’t.

“You’re a strange one, finding comfort beside a demon.” He turns his head back to stare at the sky before continuing “You have no idea the things I’ve done, the things I’m capable of doing.”

“I’d say you’re a strange one for finding comfort with me then.” You cover your mouth unsure where you even got such an absurd idea in your head, but then again he does seem interested in you doesn’t he? Looking back at Hiei you see he hasn’t moved or reacted, perhaps he didn’t hear you? Just then he laughs, sitting up to lean back on his hands.

“Oh? I tried out a single human gesture, let you sit here with me, and that must mean I’m utterly infatuated is that it?”

“Typically that’s what would happen, yeah though not necessarily in that order.” You explain calmly once he’s finished attempting to make a fool of you. “However, maybe it’s different for demons.”

“If you must know, mating simply isn’t as big a deal.”

“Is that so? Then you didn’t feel anything after yesterday?” You retort but Hiei seems to have lost interest as he turns back toward the river leaning on one knee, at least so you thought. Even with the sunset turning the river into a shimmering stream of golden light, you can still see Hiei’s cheeks redden as he thinks to himself. You inch closer, again taking in his woodsy campfire scent, Hiei only turning to look once your shoulders are nearly touching.

“That feeling? Your body, sending the blood rushing to your face like that.” You whisper to him, even reaching out to poke his face to make your point, but Hiei continues to stare unflinchingly. “That's what gave me the idea you’re comfortable with me.” Feeling ever bolder, suddenly you cup his face in your hand, and kiss him - a long heartfelt kiss. You feel the familiar warmth spread through your body as Hiei hesitantly places his hand on yours, gripping it tight enough to pull grass up with it, as though he was afraid to get lost. When you pull away, Hiei’s expression fades back to normal ever so slowly, and he turns to face the river once more without another word.

After sitting together for a while, you finally attempt to get to your feet, only to realize Hiei is still holding your hand. You lift up your hand and Hiei turns, watching you curiously. Removing your palm from his grip, you then slowly take the opposite hand and interlock your fingers with his. You then give his hand a gentle squeeze and Hiei gives a much rougher squeeze in return, though he seems to get the idea. You smile and take back your hand but Hiei merely lays back down onto the grass with his eyes closed as he was when you arrived. Picking up your bag, you make your way back to the sidewalk, but stop when you hear Hiei call your name.

“See you tomorrow.” He uttered the words so simply, but you could feel the weight that was behind them.

“See you tomorrow.” You repeat back with more enthusiasm, then noticing the faintest smile on his face, you smile and head home.

————————————————————————

Another day of class, and another day of doodling poorly in the margins of your papers, constantly distracted by thoughts of Hiei. You haven’t been able to stop from wondering what else Hiei might’ve seen in your mind that day, what else he might be curious about. Funnily enough, you’ve never fallen for anyone, even your kiss with him was your first. Still what you lack in experience, you make up for in imagination, and the long list of dark romance movies you’ve seen has given you plenty to think about. You reach your typical meeting spot but Hiei was oddly nowhere to be found, you give the area a good once over to be sure, but eventually resign yourself to sitting back down in the grass.

Besides your spot you can still barely make out the indent in the grass where Hiei was laying just yesterday, you smile until a chilling thought slips into your mind. Remembering Hiei’s words about how crazy you must look to people since he’s invisible to everyone without Spirit Awareness, you fold your arms, looking back toward the river. After a moment you grip yourself tighter, reassuring yourself that you’re not crazy, Hiei is real and he’ll be here. Giving Hiei’s spot in the grass a few quick side glances, you take a moment to look around again, it’s mostly warehouses around here so there is rarely anyone around as usual.

“Hiei? Are you here?” You ask the open air beside you, considering that maybe your Spirit Awareness isn’t high enough to see him today, you have no idea how that works after all.

Suddenly, you’re startled by laughter from behind you, it seems you somehow failed to notice a group of boys from your class walking by on the sidewalk behind you. You blush and turn back towards the river, thoroughly embarrassed and hoping they didn’t notice you talking to thin air. Closing your eyes and burying your head in your arms, you sit there a while, reassuring yourself once again that you’re not crazy. Finally, after the boys have long gone and the dark of night begins settling in, you get up and head home.

————————————————————————

The next day you’re heading back, and although you get the feeling you’re being followed for some reason, you push on regardless. Hoping that yesterday he may have merely been busy, you hold out hope that Hiei will return today, even having thrown on some makeup and the star earrings you have left from you mothers belongings. Cautiously, you approach the river again, only to discover Hiei is once again absent. Even the indent in the grass has since stood back into full vigor, you make to approach the grass to sit but stop on the sidewalk, considering just heading home instead of waiting in futility. You’ve come this way for over a month now, and Hiei was always in this area, the fact that he hasn’t been here might mean he won’t come back.

“Did you come here to talk to yourself again girl?” A voice calls out behind you and in your desperation you whip around.

“Hiei?” You blurt out, only to see the boys who were walking by yesterday, you collect yourself as best you can and stand up straight. Though it’s not enough to hide the fact that you’re blushing in embarrassment, and the boys chuckle to themselves, certainly at your expense.

“Is that your imaginary friend’s name? It sounds like even your imaginary friend has left you, huh?” The other boys chuckle to themselves again, and you hold your bag tighter in your arms, you can’t believe you mistook this guy for Hiei and the frustration shows on your face.

“Hiei is not imaginary.“

“Isn’t he? Everyone who comes by here says you’re a freak who’s been talking to yourself.”

“That doesn’t make it true.” You insist back, though even now you’re second guessing your actions, one of the boys grabs your arm but you pull away.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re a freak, and this worlds better off without freaks.” He says back before nodding and the boys get a better grip on your arms.

“Stop it! Cut it out!” You cry out, but no one comes to your aid, the sound echoing off into the distance, before being drowned out by the sound of the river. The boy lifts his hand, taking hold of one of your earrings.

“You may be a useless freak, but these sure seem like they’d be worth something.”

“Those were my mothers, stop!” You yell and scream, but he gets a grip on it regardless, and instead of removing it he simply pulls it down. Tugging your ear harder and harder still, you stop struggling not wanting to hurt yourself but it doesn’t matter, he tears the earring straight out of your ear lobe. Tears start streaming down your face, it may be a small cut in your ear but between that and realizing you’re truly alone it’s just too much. You hear something faint over your crying but everything is such a blur, you can barely feel when he reaches for your other ear.

“Move another muscle, and I’ll end your pathetic lives.” You heard it that time, the voice and tone unmistakable, it’s Hiei. Sure enough his voice is enough to make the boys freeze, easing their grip on you as they turn their heads.

“What the-”

“I didn’t give you permission to speak worm.” Hiei’s voice sounds more aggressive, as though he’s teetering on the edge of erupting, similar to how he seemed to speak with that group before. “Release her. NOW.”

Shuddering at his words they comply, letting you slip carefully to the ground, you grip your ear keeping the pressure on it. You’re in a lot of pain, but you continue to shed tears of joy all the same. You slowly look over at Hiei several feet away through your tear-filled eyes, and he’s giving you the same stare he always has, though there’s a heat behind his eyes. He raises his head to stare at the boys, now backing away from him besides the one who ripped your earring out. In an instant, he closes the gap and has drawn a sword he’s touching to the boy’s throat, his expression unchanged. Each of the other boys starts freaking out and starting to calm down yourself, you can see why, their ears have been cut in a similar fashion to yours.

“I suggest you return that, before I make you.” Hiei hisses at the boy, he drops it onto the ground near you and raises his hands. Unsatisfied, Hiei slashes across the boy’s already bloody hand, though it doesn’t appear deep. Clutching his palm, the boy backs up to his friends and they run off. Hiei places his sword away and kneels down to your level, you can’t help but smile regardless of the state your face is in. “And just what are you grinning about?” He demands while placing his palm gently on your head.

“I’m just happy to see you.” You say simply, then Hiei gets to his feet offering you his hand and helping you up.

“You really followed me, Kurama?” Hiei questions as he turns his head, all the while keeping a firm hold on your hand.

“You can hardly blame me, Hiei.” Kurama answers as he steps out from the shadow of a nearby alley, he’s the pretty boy with red hair you noticed Hiei talking to the other day. “You were in such a hurry to get back to the human world, and I know all too well that’s not like you.”

Hiei gives a sharp exhale, tips his head in your direction, and releases your hand. Kurama steps over to you asking to see, and in seconds he’s healed your ear, apologizing that you’ll have to get it re-pierced. After a handshake and a quick goodbye, he takes off walking away, apparently not nearly as concerned about making a snappy exit as Hiei. Hiei takes a few steps away in the other direction, then stops and turns to you over his shoulder, staring at you expectantly.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” His voice much calmer now, he waits for you to grab your other earring, and you catch up to him offering your hand. Hiei hesitates, then holds your hand just as you had instructed the other day, obviously the difference in height between you makes it difficult but you make due.

————————————————————————

Hiei is silent most of the way home, despite the fact that your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, being this close with him feels like a dream. Still a few blocks from home, he speaks up.

“I had something to take care of, duties, obligations.”

“I gathered. You don’t need to apologize, Hiei.” You respond in kind, but Hiei merely stops on the spot, unmoving.

“It was just humans this time.”

“What?”

“It could have been worse.” Hiei sounds tense, though not angry, like he can’t just bring himself to voice his concern.

You gently tug on his hand, and Hiei continues moving with you. When you reach your door at the apartment building, he stops again, releasing your hand. You unlock and open the door, Hiei turns away but you catch his arm.

“How…um…how much of what I was thinking did you see the other day?” You ask hesitantly, but he does not respond, and only turns back toward you. You pull his arm out of his pocket, and gripping his hand, you lead him inside.

Once you’re both inside, you set to work attempting to tidy up a bit, since you haven’t had a guest in - ever. Hiei looks about and finding your coat hooks, he removes his in one swift motion, placing his sword down gently near it. He takes a few more cautious steps into your apartment carefully taking in his surroundings, then stopping when he notices your open bedroom door. Once you’ve finished you walk over to where Hiei is and take his hand once more.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He whispers, usually you have a good idea of what Hiei is thinking, although he’s quiet his body is rather honest. Yet you can’t figure out what’s on his mind right now, maybe despite his usual calm collected attitude you’ll have to walk him through it.

You take his face in your hands and kiss him deeply, He returns the gesture whole heartedly. Pulling away, Hiei manages to sweep you up in one quick motion, princess-carrying you to your bed. Setting you down gently, Hiei wastes no time climbing on top of you, taking only a moment to gently caress your cheek. Staring at you and once again reminding you of your first meeting, a beast who’s cornered his prey, except you’re far more willing.

Hiei leans in and kisses you, letting slip a moan you lay back helplessly as he trails a line of them down your neck. You reach up to feel his side through his shirt, gripping it needily, your other hand snaking around his arm as his hand travels up running fingers through your hair. Slowly Hiei’s grip begins to tighten, tugging ever so playfully at your hair before biting down on your neck lightly, putting just enough pressure to leave his mark. However, it’s little more than a tease, Hiei’s taking it slow likely out of fear of hurting you. You mumble under your breath, and Hiei pauses to listen as you find the words in your throat.

“Harder . . . please.” You whimper to him and Hiei hesitates before obliging, getting a firmer grip on your hair, biting your neck deeper, sucking a second more intense hickey into your skin. His sharp canines threatening to pierce your skin, you yelp and moan all at once, your breathing getting heavier as you grip Hiei’s arm harder for comfort. When he pulls back you can hear him almost panting, his warm breath further teasing your sensitive new bruise. You lock eyes for a moment, your lips crashing against one another the next, your hands exploring each others aching bodies. Hiei’s hand traces teasingly over your breast, quickly throwing your uniforms tie aside and gripping the top button of your shirt then stopping.

You give a quick nod before tugging up his shirt in turn, Hiei instead taking it from you, repeating his previous trick and removing it in an instant. You giggle under your breath and Hiei gives a small smirk, kissing you again before moving back down to your neck, his fast hands making quick work of your shirt buttons. You take a moment to revel in his kissing while tracing your hands over his arms and back, his skin was warm, inviting to the touch, and coated in several scars depicting a lifetime of battle and hardship. It made it all the more comforting that he was being so careful with you, while so vulnerable at the same time.

Suddenly Hiei pulls your shirt open, and you sit up to remove it along with your bra. Placing his hand at the curve of your waistline, he ever so slowly moves upward towards your chest, teasing you. Taking and massaging your breast with one hand, Hiei kisses around your other before beginning to suck on your nipple, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. You squirm and moan beneath him from the sensation, running your fingers through his hair once more, the excitement beginning to grow between your legs.

After alternating, giving your chest the ample attention it deserves, Hiei gently traces his fingers down, slowly pulling up your skirt as he wraps his other arm around you. Coming to rest his hand over your underwear, you become aware of just how wet you are with excitement and moan, Hiei smirks as he pulls your panties aside. Runing his fingers along the wetness of your entrance, he teases it while rubbing his slicked thumb over your clit, you whimper in between moans.

“Please Hiei…” you beg and Hiei obliges, slowly inserting one finger, then two. You gasp from the sensation flowing through you and Hiei takes your exhale as a sign, beginning to slowly fuck you with his fingers, still tracing circles over your clit with his thumb. You cling tighter to Hiei, the edges of the room starting to soften, he holds you closer as you quickly begin approaching that peak. It all feels so surreal, of course you’ve touched yourself before, but here with the boy you’ve pined over for so long feels leagues more intense. You stare up at Hiei and he kisses you, moaning against his lips as he curls his fingers while maintaining the rhythm, quickly bringing you to a rather loud orgasm your muscles gripping fingers nearly in place.

You struggle to catch your breath in Hiei’s arms, his hand still idly teasing your entrance, he stares at you with a half smile still breathing heavily himself. Having calmed down a bit you run your fingers along the top of Hiei’s pants, taking a quick look at how excited he himself is, you flick your gaze back up to meet his.

In a moment you’ve both removed the last of your clothing, Hiei kissing you while lightly pushing you back into your place on the bed, you moan feeling the gentlist graze of his dick over your clit. Lining himself up, he begins grinding himself against your wetness, trailing kisses over your neck while pinning your hands above your head. Holding your wrists in place with one hand, he brings the other down to massage your breast once more, you can’t bear to hold back moaning as his kissing moves further up your neck.

“Hiei . . .” You barely whimper out between moans, yet he only nibbles your ear in response.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it *****.“ Hiei whispers directly into your ear, hearing him say your name sending a shiver down your spine in the best way.

“Please. . .fuck me Hiei.” You beg in desperation, finally able to get out the answer that Hiei already knew.

With that, Hiei sat up somewhat to steady himself, flashing you a mischievous grin. You bite your lip, running your hands over his shoulders and back. The next second you can feel him starting to part you, moaning as you throw your head back, Hiei’s dick enters you slowly and completely as his hips meet yours. He moans along with you, leaning lower to wrap a protective arm around you, he pauses for a moment as if he’s overwhelmed which isn’t surprising given how tightly you feel yourself gripping him.

Then Hiei begins slowly but steadily fucking you, just as you begged, your nails now digging into his back. Keeping his pace as his eyes lock with yours, you kiss eachother deeply, and Hiei speeds up. Pounding his hips into yours, you can feel yourself approaching the peak again already, and based on Hiei’s sounds of pleasure you imagine he is too. Placing a hand on his face, you smile up at him, Hiei is thrusting hard when he suddenly cums and you along with him. The feeling of him filling you up pushing you over the edge, Hiei moans deeply between reaching the peak and your orgasmic grip on him as he does.

————————————————————————

The remainder of the night is a blur as you wake up, groggily rubbing your eyes you wonder what happened, your room is still a mess but theres no sign of Hiei.

Looking over at the clock, you realize you’re going to be late for school and hurriedly get ready. As you’re brushing your hair, and despite the bit of bruising on your neck, you can’t help but wonder if your night with Hiei was all a dream. Afterall, you can’t remember falling asleep after . . . on second thought, you probably shouldn’t think too hard about it in fresh underwear. Struggling to slip your shoes on, you grab the doorknob and pull it open. There leaning on the railing was Hiei, who turned around when you stepped out the door, you could feel your heart practically jump into your throat. Hiei sat staring, disinterested as usual, then held out his hand.

“Come on *****, I’ll walk you there.”

#hiei x reader #hiei x you #yyh hiei #hiei yu yu hakusho #hiei smut #Hawke Writing

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four-white-trees · 5 months

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Sunday Six

It's that time again! Tagging the usuals @overdevelopedglasses @mike----wazowski @skysquid22 @passthroughtime @fire-tempers-steel @woundedheartwithin @fragilitease @ohayouasagohan

This week I've been working on a fic featuring Nishkiyama, Ryuji, and Mine as ghosts having to fight evil spirits at Tojo HQ. It's heavily inspired by @lordichamo's comics which are so so good and so much fun. I wanted to try my hand at the dynamic. Plus I like ghosts.

It looked vaguely humanlike, but what passed for a head nearly brushed the ceiling. Its massive body moved like a rippling pond, its limbs long and thick like trees. It had no face, yet Ryuji was aware it was staring directly at him.

“That one of yer spirits?” Ryuji asked, balling his fists.

Kaede trembled beside him, but she kept her chin high. “It is. Be careful. This one is especially glutted.”

“Glutted on what?” Mine asked, his voice close behind Ryuji.

There was no time for questions, however. The creature lunged forward, and Ryuji jumped into action. He closed the gap between them in two long strides and landed his fist directly in the center of the creature, where the solar plexus of a human would be. He didn’t know what to expect when he hit the thing, and he was shocked to find his fist hit something solid and hard.

The creature slumped back for a moment, then forward again, curling over Ryuji’s head. Its face split open like a maw, frigid, foul air pouring from within. Ryuji tried to pull away, but realized his fist was stuck in the creature’s body in a sensation akin to, well, what the cartoons made quicksand look like.

Quick footsteps sounded behind Ryuji, but before he could react, he felt hands on his shoulders. Nishkiyama launched himself over Ryuji’s body to land a hard kick against the thing’s head. It shifted to the left with Nishkiyama’s force, and Ryuji was able to pull his fist free. He stepped back, and Nishkiyama stood beside him, his own fists raised, his stance wide.

Ryuji didn’t see Mine, wrote him off, and rushed at the creature with Nishkiyama, wailing on the darkness before him, understanding very little about the sensations in his hands. It was like punching cold water, yet it imparted no wetness. He had no idea if he was doing any damage to the thing.

The creature opened one long arm and swiped it into Nishkiyama, who was pushed into Ryuji. Ryuji was solidly planted, so he didn’t fall, and Nishkiyama was pressed into his body. The creature increased the force of its limb, however, and Ryuji struggled to remain on his feet. Nishkiyama struggled against the limb, pinned between it and Ryuji’s mass.

BANG. BANG.

Two gunshots rang through the air, startling Ryuji. They both went wide, but a third struck true into the creature’s head, and it fell back, its limb falling away. Nishkiyama fell to the ground, and Ryuji sank to one knee, looking over his shoulder behind him.

Mine stood in a wide stance, a gold gun in both his hands. His eyes were trained on the creature.

Ryuji looked forward again, ready for another round, but found the creature doubling in on itself. It shrank a good deal, then turned tail and sprinted down the hall, disappearing into the darkness.

Ryuji growled, getting to his feet, and rounded on Mine. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Mine lowered the gun, his glare fixed on Ryuji. “A weapon. You could have used one.”

“Eh?” Ryuji approached Mine, fists raised. “Says who?”

“Lady Tojo,” Mine responded. “Which she’d have explained if you hadn’t foolishly rushed into a fight. How can you think to fight an enemy with no information?” Kaede stood against a bookshelf, half her body inside of it, watching them.

Nishkiyama approached Ryuji and Mine, nodding to Mine. “Appreciate it,” he said, “but you’re a terrible shot.” Mine grimaced.

#sunday six #fanfiction #writing #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #ryuji goda #akira nishikiyama #mine yoshitaka

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

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baby, i’m yours

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Biggs x F!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Your teasing gets out of hand when you find yourself in a certain position…

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // There ain’t enough love for Biggs. Anyways, this was inspired by, “i’m yours” by Isabel LaRosa.

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 608

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, swearing, grinding, little teasing, light biting, public sex, groping, almost caught, alcohol use…

How the hell did you end up in this position? You shouldn’t be doing this right now, not while on an important mission. But, Shinra soldiers were all over the place that Biggs had no problem securing their way into Sector 5, and if you weren’t lying, you may have been teasing him for a while now.

His hands were tightly wrapped around your wrist, keeping them pinned up against the cold metal of the building. Biggs kept his body in between your legs, you could feel his cock hard, rubbing against your cunt. And each time you did, you let out little moans which he took advantage of.

The once chilly room turned hot. Grunts from Biggs and moans from you… One hand releases your wrist, his slightly warm hand snuck under your shirt, tugging your bra down and massaging your tit. Minutes later, his lips left yours, he pulls off his leather harness and shirt and returns back down, back on your lips.

His hand leaves your tit, pulling you up and onto his hips. Biggs sat up against the wall, staring into your eyes with lust and love. But his eyes closed as he once again kissed you. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging and pulling.

His hands grabbing your ass, pushing you against himself. Hissing quietly as your crotch pressed against his, he bucks his hips as you continue. You felt his hands move to your hips, tightening as his breathing became uneven. His lips suddenly latched onto your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin while you continued moving…

“B-Biggs.” You moan out, but his hand covers your mouth. You almost forgot, you were in a Shinra building, just because it’s nice and quiet doesn’t mean there are people around. A muffled whine comes from you.

“I know.” He huffs, trying to control his breath, “Just hold it for me, okay?”

But footsteps… Multiple pairs.

Your heart dropped. Tapping on his shoulder, “Someone-!” You tried speaking to the best of your abilities with his hand over your mouth.

It took him a minute to realize, “Shit.” He curses.

You jumped off his lap, tumbling on your feet as you fixed your appearance. Biggs rushed to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the ground. But before he could put on his harness-

“Biggs?” Cloud asks, Tifa and Barret then appear.

You remained on the ground, back turned as your face burned red with embarrassment, “Oh, (Y/n)!” Tifa smiles, coming to your side, “Did something happen? Was there trouble with the-”

“Nope.” Your voice nearly cracking, “Shinra soldiers haven’t been around.” You tell her.

“Did something happen to your harness?” Barret questions, watching Biggs put it back on.

Biggs shakes his head, “There was a tear but (Y/n) fixed it up.” He looks at you, “Right?”

“Yep.” You hastily answer, standing to your feet.

Hours later, you found yourself at Tifa’s bar, she was in the storage room while you quietly sat at her bar, sadly sipping on your drink. The doors open and close but you don’t bother to look back, you were sexually frustrated and wanted to be left alone.

The unknown person sits next to you, “Blowjob?” You recognize his voice.

Smirking, “Sex on the beach.” Now, looking at Biggs, “You are so lucky that they never questioned anything.”

Biggs chuckles, “I’m sure Cloud knew.”

“How’s Jessie?”

“Her ankle will take time to heal but she’ll bounce back.” Biggs takes your glass, drinking some of it, “So… Care to finish what you started?” He leans in.

You take your glass back, “You know where to find me~”

#x reader #fluff #smut #final fantasy smut #biggs x reader #x female reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy remake #biggs ff7 #Biggs

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wolfy-star1401 · 30 days

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{ a thanks to @sw124 for the little inspiration for this }

Little Scary Nightmares

Characters : Little! Basil & Cg! Professor Ratigan

This story contains : Basil being injured, mention of cigarettes, Nightmare, Basil being physically assaulted, k!lled { only in the nightmare } and trauma healing

Summary : Basil woke up regressed due to a nightmare which very upsets him, fortunately Ratigan is here to help.

Here he was………Basil, finally about to catch the fried he had been on to for days or even weeks.

This guy who had been wanted for a lot of heinous crimes was finally bringing him to justice. But sadly that didn’t last long.

The chase went on until the scoundrel arrived at the dead end,

„the game is over, you better surrender yourself or–“

but before he could finish his sentence Basil was hit behind his head by something really hard which resulted him falling hard on the ground.

As he tried to get up, a foot was placed on his back and pinned him back to the cold, dirt plastered soil. While his arms were held against his will.

He heard the cruel chuckle of the evil fella „ Oh you foolish detective, did you really thought I worked alone ? Ha ! Now, how about we have some fun with ya, hu ?“

Basil looked at him with an very angrily, trying his best not to show any fear „ you *cough* you wouldn’t dar–agh!“

Basil managed to say only having one of goons force his head pinned down. He could feel this satisfied the monster.

„ now fellas, I think we have a new little play thing to entertain us, so which one of you‘s gonna being?“

Everything went very fast for Basil. First he gets face kicked until his nose bleeds, then gets used as a litteraly punching bag and now he gets kicked around, everytime with no chance of defending himself.

Now on the ground he tried to plead for them to stop, to no avail.

When he thought it couldn’t get any worse, his clothes get ripped apart, leaving him with a few scratches on his body.

Their leader was now kneeling beside him and made the now beaten mouse to look at him. „ Now I think we deserve a price for our hard work, do you think, hm ? “

He pulled out a knife and lowered to the point of almost impaling Basil’s chest, Basil was now panicking.

Please, don’t-

Basil

I won‘t tell !

Basil

Please, don’t kill me…. Especially like thi-

Basil !!!

Basil open up his eyes just to see that…. He’s no longer in an abandoned alley anymore, but he’s laying on a bed in a kind of familiar room, which had a scent of cigarette smoke

and he was now looking at his nemesis, Professor Ratigan who was looking surprisingly concerned.

„hey, are …… are you alright ?“ he asked

Basil just looked at him confused and unable to question him as he realized. His head was not feeling like it had been filled with cotton, which made the headache worse.

He felt his lips trembling, his mouth trying to speak but failing and tears filling his eyes as he remembered.

Before Ratigan could say anything, Basil began to wail unconsolable. The tears were flowing down from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and he was hyperventilating.

Ratigan was at the lost of words on what he was suppose to do now. But he decided to act fast, he carefully picked up Basil and cradled him in his arms.

„ Shhh, breath kid, Shhhh, hush now, papa’s here “ he said while making small circles on Basil’s back, carefully reminding himself to be gentle with the kid.

„ Maybe a stroll in in the fresh air might help" Ratigan thought to himself as he exited the room with his crying little still in his arms.

Everytime one of Rarigan‘s henchmen came across them and before they could ask their boss, he gave them the death glare and they went silent after that.

Later they’re arrived to their destination, it was an abandoned garden house which was taken over by overgrown plants and weeds.

After a while basil slowly calmed down, Ratigan lucky found a bench to sit on.

„ there you go, now would you like to tell me what had upset you that much ?“ he asked kindly.

Basil held his bandaged hand close to his mouth, his index finger almost in it.

„ N…. nightmawe " he mumbled in a childish tone.

„ oh really, what happened ?" Ratigan asked.

Basil swallowed.

„ I was casing a bwig two a empy plawe … an ther were a growp of mean guys an .. they bet me up an th… th… big meanie wate too….“ with every word basil was saying, new tears were welling up threatening to spill.

Ratigan realized what the little mouse was telling him. He remembered caning across the new criminal who was threatening his title, and how he finished him off while the rest of this wannabe’s gang were dealt with by Felicia.

He was about to call it a night as he noticed the unconscious body of the detective.

At first he wanted to leave him here but then he decided to take him to his new hideout/ lair to recover and after that they can finish their rivalry once and for all.

Never could he predicted that something like this would happen.

He sighed wiping away the tears that had been poured down with an cloth tissue, he‘d pulled out from his jacket pocket.

„ oh sweetheart, those mean fellas will no longer troubling you " he said.

Basil who was now sniffing and only small hiccups escaping from his mouth was looking at him with glassy eyes.

„ I can see that the dream was scaring you really bad “ Ratigan said emphatically while cupping Basil’s right cheeks and caressing it with his thumb.

Basil nodded while rubbing his eyes.

„ but you’re save now, and I make sure no bad dreams or nightmares bothering you, you have my word “ Ratigan says before nuzzle his little one close to him.

„ now how about we go back inside, get something to drink and have you right back to bed, does that sound good ?“ Ratigan offered.

Basil shyly nod.

Later after they arrived back, Ratigan told one of his henchmen to make the drink ready while he made the little detective ready for bed.

While they were making it, Ratigan was preparing basil for seep time.

He checked if something needed to be changed, he gently pulled the the index finger out of Basil’s mouth.

As he was finishing him up, there was a knock on the door, it was Fidget who was holding a bottle with cold water in it like requested.

The bat handed it over to his boss who thanked him, and not very long they were out of the room, closing it behind them.

Ratigan picked Basil up and laying him on his back in his arms, and placed the nibble of the bottle to the little one‘s mouth which Basil nervously and shyly took.

While basil drank the icy cold water which felt good for his throat and tummy, Ratigan cradled him while humming a nursery rhyme song.

After he was done, the bottle was removed from his mouth and placed somewhere else, he could feel his eyes feeling heavy.

He barely noticed that a pacifier was placed in his mouth. It was brown colored with a green color flower on it.

Ratigan continued this until the little one was fast asleep. He put him back in bed and tucked him in.

He‘ll figuring out what to do next with him but for now he keep an protective eye on his little detective.

That’s a promise

@nottapossum @iceagere @nostalgic-woodwind @innocentlittlelambsnursery @hey-little-mya @jacksdinonuggets

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