#if they weren't physically older than him

[appleblueberry-pie]

Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

A/N: "The Yandere's", meaning as many yandere's i think I can characterize as yandere's as perfectly as possible without burning myself out. Also, are the pictures too much?????? Also, I couldn't find a good pic for Sugu without picking the one where he's literally going insane LMAOOO. Love how my semi-debut for my yandere characterization for him is shown w a not so pleasant picture of him(they're all perfect). Anyways, this is probably gonna be my most chaotic, yet organized, post about jjk ever. I have a solid plan and will go through with it. It's friday and this is me "letting loose" before the weekend. Also, the first love story will be pulled from my own experience. With multiple twists to it to make it sound as interesting as possible.

SCENARIO:

"Mmmm. I remember my first love." You hum in a pleasant tone as you start to reminisce events of who you first gave your heart to. "I loved him so much, it was insane. Because....we grew up with each other. We used to be like this." You twist your fingers together, smiling at him as you explain. "He was an embodiment of me, as I was of him. I don't remember a time we weren't friends. I think it helps to mention that our mom's were friends and they were neighbors. So....we've always known each other. He's a year older than me."

You two were out in the park on the grass. He suggested a little picnic together, hoping to bring you two closer so he could possibly make more moves to be more than a friend. But you were so oblivious to it, even going as far as talking of your first love as if you still missed this stupid asshole.

"I still miss him." You go silent for a few seconds and stare down at the checkered blanket, smiling. He gapes a little and resists the urge to scoff. "We both loved playing video games, we watched the same tv shows, went to the same elementary school....a lot of things happened between us. He didn't like me back, though. I confessed to him when I was 9 and he said no." You laugh. "But even then, I still loved him. I still feel it, too. For some reason, my love for others doesn't really go away. Just sits at the bottom of my heart to make more room for others."

You sigh and continue talking about the guy. "He just grew more and more....attractive as I grew up. I am pretty sure he's why I have my type that I have in men currently. He's very tall....a deep voice." You sigh, closing your eyes to remember. "Relaxed, closed off.....I heard him on the phone when our moms were talking a month ago. He sounds....so different. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I saw him again." In real time, he watched you unravel slowly to show how.....inf*tuated you were with this guy. You were so focused on naming his qualities. As if you could picture him perfectly in your mind.

"I'm so glad we don't talk to each other anymore. I ruined our relationship. Said a few inappropriate things I shouldn't have said at the wrong time. I haven't spoken to him in....6 years. And I'd rather it stay that way, honestly. Because he's a rather boring person outside of his physical attributes. But I have attachment issues." You pick up one of the snacks laid out between the two of you. "Yeah. I'm done talking about him. I would rather not think of him anymore."

YANDERE REACTIONS:

Sukuna:

Sukuna was baffled. Anger, frustration, fear, and even jealousy kept his tongue from moving. He thought this moment wouldn't ever happen in his life. He thought this wasn't a possibility. Your extreme disloyalty to him was what made him clench his hands in anger. But if he rationally thought about this, you don't know. You don't know how much he loves you. How much the Ryomen Sukuna loves you. You were supposed to be his in all lifetimes. He felt like he absolutely knew you were pure. You smelled pure and your energy felt pure when he first met you. So why were you fixing your mouth to say such disgusting and unfaithful words to him as if he wasn't right there?

He wanted to ask you if you've been trying to give yourself to him like a whore, but he knew that was just him overreacting. He wouldn't ever say such things to you, anyways. He wanted to change for you and was trying, starting with these stupid little date settings he knew you loved. A fucking park. And here he was being stabbed in the chest multiple times without your knowledge of it. It was all your doing.

He might be human in this lifetime. He might be nothing but a mere human for you to toy with freely, and he would let you do it to him. But he would never allow a puny roach get in the way of getting what he deserves. He deserves you and he will have you, one way or another. And if that means cutting a small piece of your heart out just to keep the rest, then so be it. He can't have any piece of you in him. Just thinking about him makes another vessel pop in his body somewhere. He will kill this thing.

Kento:

Maybe he was overbearing. He really just couldn't help but feel insecure. There should be no real reason for you to bring up a man from the past. Someone that should clearly be out of your mind. Was he boring? What did that fool have that he didn't? And why did you mention it while you two were on this date??(It wasn't a date, but it felt like it to him) Maybe he was too plain. Men like him were just smokers and loners, of course you'd bring up someone else that can satiate your desire for real love. It's all because he couldn't. Not in the way you want to be loved.

But he knew, he knew that he was enough. He knew he was your type as well, so, what did you mean by he was the type you have in men?? What does that mean for him? Will you use him and throw him away? He doesn't want to be used and tossed out like trash. He wanted to be yours forever. He wanted to be your man. Your man. He wanted to be your lover, your obsesser and the one you obsess over, not that imbecile. He wanted to be skin to skin, he wanted to be under your skin, he wanted to make his mark on you and for you to do the same to him. He deserves your love. But here you are expressing it for another man you haven't even spoken to in over 6 years. He deserves that type of commitment, there's nothing he's done to deserve it this late.

"I love you." The words slip out like oil on water. And it makes his heart oh, so much lighter.

Suguru:

"Heavens. I'm glad you aren't talking with him now." Suguru chuckles and shakes his head, peeling off more strawberry leaves for you. "This is why." He points with the strawberry at the people walking past and then gives you the strawberry. "This is why I don't want you talking with them. They do this to hold you in their clutches, I've seen it." Suguru sighs as he recalls your story in his mind. Jesus, was it trying to hypnotize you? If so, it was working. No worries, it won't be around to mess with your mind much longer.

"They actively lie, they laze around, let their emotions control them, and then try to manipulate you to stay with them to be their stepping stool." He brushes your hair back neatly, and you scrunch your eyebrows at his words. "But I know you're better than him. Better than all of them." He calls out your name and stares into your eyes with a look that makes you flustered. What is his problem?

"You are the light. You are one of the most strongest and intelligent sorcerers I have seen of this time. You hold up your potential and continue to blow my mind with how beautiful your soul is. I am constantly drawn to you and your energy, I never get enough of it. I don't ever want to hinder you and I don't want anyone else to hinder your energy. That's why I will kill that filthy animal that tried to touch you." It's scary, the way he maintains eye contact with you and spits the nastiest insult about the man you once loved with your whole heart.

"I can't wait to get to know you better. You've been teaching me so much. Maybe you can tell me about your favorite nature spots and we can relax there whenever you're free. And sometime later, I could also take you to meet my family. You'll love my two daughters." He laughs lightly, knowing Nanako and Mimiko would adore finally having a real mother worth of raising them. Together, you and him would be unstoppable.

Choso:

Choso was finished with peeling the mandarin for you. You kind of were confused about how he went about doing this, though. Because all over his lap were the smallest bits of mandarin peels you've ever seen. But the mandarin looked perfect. He obviously took his time. He handed it to you softly, smiling. You accept it happily and begin peeling.

He was surprised he didn't rip the thing apart then and there. Maybe be should peel things more often. The way you so freely spoke about your love for another man when your soulmate was sitting right next to you, peeling fruit open for you was preposterous. He needed a hug. A lemonade, had to kill someone, something. But he stopped killing people for you(secretly), so he has to resort to acting like he's peeling off that devil's skin. Starting from where the shiny skin first shows. The first piece is always the hardest to pick off and it's hard to choose where to begin. But soon enough, the color underneath began to show. He slowly picked off every. Little. Piece. He heard a yelp of pain and cries of "sorry's" in his head for every piece.

Every single little piece made the air smell more and more sweet and tangy. The more you spoke, the faster he picked. The stronger the smell was. So citrus-y and delicious. It made him smile. He loved peeling this mandarin. Then picking off white strips connected to the mandarin itself, so that it was smoother and you had no access peel. Like veins, they came off one by one. He simply stared at it when he was done. Smooth, perfect. Scattered remains laying everywhere on his lap.

He's never felt this way before. What were you doing to him? What is this twisting feeling in his gut that makes him want to puke? Why can't he breathe? Why does he want to kill the kids and mothers at the playground not too far away? He needs you to calm him down.

He hates this park.

"Here you go, angel." He hands it to you, smiling. You looked a little confused at first, but then took it from him, opening it to take a slice. "Oh, this looks real nice, Cho. ......Why are you smiling like that?" He shrugs, picking up one of the strawberries you brought from your place. "Like what...?"

Toji:

Toji was silent. The awkward silence he was creating between the two of you made you nervous. He was sitting close to you, leaning over to you, his arm supporting his weight behind your back with your shoulder touching his chest. He was just staring down at the bowl of strawberries. ".....Toji?" Your soft voice made him sigh.

No, he couldn't do it. Killing you won't kill the pain and anger in his chest. This was probably the angriest he's ever been. He wanted to shout at you to apologize for how you were making him feel. But what he really wanted was to feel your lips on his and for you to shut the fuck up. For some reason, every time you open your mouth, it always ends with him degrading further and further off the side of sanity and just going completely ballistic.

You saw his hand on his hip. The hip that wasn't actually his hip, but was his gun he was resting his hand on. He would feel so much better if those shrieking rats would shut up. Fucking rodents running around you two freely like he wasn't about to ruin everyone's day.

He wouldn't say he was often traumatized, but he could've went his whole life without hearing that story. Now he has to find a random man and kill him for stealing your heart. I mean, the least the bastard could've done was reciprocate his feelings and not leave you feeling helpless. "I could treat you better than that dick." You flinch at his words before smiling, averting your gaze as well. "Oh....." He leans in closer to your face. "Where does he live, huh? Is it the prick with the glasses?" "No?" "The one you work with?" "I-I told you I haven't-" "Eh, whatever. I'll find him and kill him." He smiles at your bashfulness and grabs a few strawberries from the patch.

Sometimes he forgets you don't care much for how he says things. If the right message gets across, you usually don't mind how he says it. But he just blatantly threatened to kill him. You grab the leafless strawberries from his hands and begin eating. Nah. You were his, for sure. He sighs and lays down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky.

Satoru:

Satoru nodded along with your words, his hands trembling. When you smiled, he did. When you sighed, he would, too. And when you finished your story, he had to swallow the thick bile in his throat. You were just....recalling old memories, that's all. Nothing else. He tried to focus on the grass blades he felt through the blanket. He tried to focus on the sounds of the kids running around squealing.

He watched you eat some of the cold grapes he brought you. They were big, and you praised him lightly for finding such a great batch. He nods quietly and stares down at his lap. Everything was fine. You were fine, and so was he. "Satoru...?" Honey dripping naturally in your voice makes his head turn automatically. The worry etched on your face made the strings holding his mind together break one by one. "Are you alright..? You're sweating."

Nothing was fine. He can't believe you just said that to him. Why would you..? Why did...? Why?.....wait, why?? Why??? Why why why why why why WHY would you do that? Why would you say that to him? He sacrificed so much for you. He killed all of the assassins that went after you when the higher ups found out about you and him getting closer. He paid off your parent's debt secretly. He paid your rent. He woke up early in the mornings to talk to you because he knows you like to wake up to see the sunset. He memorized all of your schedules when you have special weeks, special breaks, he memorized all days that you memorized, he knows what mattress you like to sleep on, he knows how you like certain foods to be seasoned, he knows your favorite weather and season, he didn't fucking learn all of this about you for nothing!! WHY don't you ever appreciate everything he's ever done for you? Why don't you notice him? Why don't you love him? He stalks you every day to understand the type of man you would want to live under your roof and be under your covers and that wasn't enough.

He's been so alone all of his fucking life. No one understood him like you do. He couldn't help but open his ribcage, breaking them off of his body to one by one to let you touch his hot beating heart with your cold fingers. He wants you inside of his heart forever and never let you go, can't you understand that? He hasn't slept in three days, predetermining what he was going to say to you during this picnic, and you tell him that?? Just fucking kill him. Kill him, kick his face, spit on him, ruin him like you're doing now. He clearly doesn't matter.

"Satoru??"

He's supposed to be the one you compare playing video games with, he is supposed to be the one you watch the same tv shows with, he was supposed to go to the same school as you!! His skin is on fire, he can't breathe, his mind hurts, the grass blades are irritating his skin and the children are making his migraine worse. Are you saying something? He can't hear you. His ears are ringing.

He wants to be him. He wants to rip open the skin and spine of the man who lived in your soul since the dawn of time and crawl into his body to experience what he experienced. He wants to do all of those things with you as kids and live with you, grow with you, let him be your infatuation. He wants to rewind time. He wants to die. He wants both of you to die and be reborn to be given a second chance he can never ever have.

"Satoru!"

Your face is twisted into heavy concern and slight fear. Satoru sat in front of you, staring at you. He hasn't moved in three entire minutes. His face was covered in bucket loads of sweat, his lips twisted into a tight smile that threatened to break into a million pieces. The corners of his lips wobbled as if he was going to cry, but his eyes were wide open and dry. His legs, arms, and back stiff as he sits in such an uncomfortable position, it had to hurt. You were scared for him.

Can he hear you? You slowly raise on of your hands to touch his cheek and he flinches under your touch, finally blinking. "Yes?" You purse your lips and bring out a cold water bottle from your basket. "Here, maybe you should drink some water." He takes the water bottle you dropped into his hand. "Thank you." He whispers and sighs, twisting open the cap. You watch him guzzle the whole thing in 5 seconds. "......maybe we should go indoors." He nods, closing the now empty water bottle. "Yeah. The sun is hurting my eyes."

No part 2's. Because I don't like continuing old plot and I love seeing people go crazy for me not continuing good content.

[star-sim]

my love (mine all mine) ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k

The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother. 

For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight. 

He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach. 

He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.

But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have. 

Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.

Or so he thought.

Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.

As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.

Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.

If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.

He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family. 

Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.

Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.

But then you pranced your way into his life.

You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.

When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.

It was suffocating.

His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.

But the worst was what he felt in his throat.

Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.

And it was already too late.

He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.

Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery? 

And what if he had kids?

When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway. 

Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.

But here he was.

In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.

It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing. 

Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."

Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.

Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.

It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass. 

"I'm scared," was all he could say.

Because that was all he felt in that moment.

Fear.

Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying. 

Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out. 

Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.

Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.

You didn't let him go that night.

You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.

"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."

All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.

Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.

Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.

He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room. 

"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."

We.

That's right. 

This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too). 

When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love. 

This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.

No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.

You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.

"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."

Yes, Jake would run. 

He'd run, and run, and run, from love. 

He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.

He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.

[dantakeyoman]

the, “his secret mate.” part in your fic where she took the bullet from neteyam had me tearing up huhuhu can we get the detail of their intimacy in relationship before that war? not always to be nsfw, but fluff with full of lovesick moments aarghhwbd

You and Neteyam Mate In Secret (Slight-NSFW / Comfort)

Prologue of "You Take The Bullet"

CW: nsfw implied ( and a little described ), right after his second birth ( he is now a tribe-observed man, and part of the People ), you and Neteyam are so in love, kinda magical ngl, reminder that Utral Aymokriyä is the place Jake and Neytiri mated, Neteyam is a consent king

"You skxawng! Where are you taking me?" you laughed, Neteyam's hand in yours as he ran through the forest with you, his trademark smile plastered on his face.

"You'll see," he teased, jumping off a large tree root and landing on the mossy ground.

You did your best to keep up, jumping as well, but you landed off balance, and were about to fall.

Neteyam noticed this and quickly turned around, yanking you toward him so you landed in his chest, instead of the mud.

You sighed, pulling your face out of his pecs, and resting on it instead.

You were tired.

This man had made the both of you sprint from Hometree, all the way to....wherever here was.

Technically, the both of you weren't even supposed to be out right now.

Neteyam had just had his Second Birth, and was supposed to be spending it with the People.

But through the commotion, he managed to sneak the both of you out.

"I must show you something. Come!" his words echoed in your head.

If Neteyam wanted to sneak out, then it must be something incredibly important.

"Irayo," you panted, breathless as you took your quick break.

A dark tint of blue rested on his cheeks as he nodded, his hands instinctively going to rest on your hips.

"Kea tìkin," he assured, averting his eyes from you so you could not see his blush.

Noticing the slight purple-ish glow that was shining from behind him, you lifted your head, peeking over his shoulder and gasping at the sight.

Utral Aymokriyä.

"Oh, Neteyam!" you gasped, quickly breaking from the hug and walking over to the large tree.

It stood tall, and proud, like the might of thousands lay hiding in it's branches.

Despite being Omaticaya, you had never been to this place. Though you had constantly told Neteyam how you dreamed of doing so one day.

Out-stretching your arms, you walked toward the base of the tree, smiling as you allowed all of it’s tendrils to rake over you, softly.

Neteyam did the same, but not without letting his gaze linger on you.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you experience the tree in wonder.

You were adorable.

The tree bathed you in purple light, accentuating your every feature.

Your beauty was a sight to behold, that was what caught his attention first. 

Your face was sculputure-like, ethereal.

Even if he were to stare at your face for hours, he wouldn’t be able to find a single thing wrong. 

You laughed, dancing with a tendril of the tree as if it were another person.

And your voice. It came out so smooth and silky, like his favorite song on repeat.

Sitting down on the ground, you rested your hands on the ground, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the beautiful energy the tree was emitting.

It wasn’t just your physical features, either.

It was the way you carried yourself, the way you were strong, and tough, yet soft and kind for your people and Pandora.

You had this man weak in the knees every time you crossed paths, and it was getting to the point where it was affecting his day-to-day life.

All he thought of was you. Eat, sleep, breathe, repeat. You.

You were a distraction, but a beautiful one. One that deserved to be protected by every ounce of his being.

"My mother took me here when I was no older than a baby," Neteyam started, walking over and sitting down next to you.

"She said this was a place for prayers to be heard. ....And sometimes answered."

He took his queue, making tsaheylu with a soft sigh, before turning back to you, who was watching him in peaceful, silent awe.

It made him blush.

You did the same, a soft gasp leaving you lips as you shut your eyes, the songs and chants of past peoples dancing through your ears, as clear as day.

When you opened your eyes again, Neteyam chuckled at your child-like expression, your mouth slightly gaped in wonder.

“I can hear them,” you nodded, eyes trained on the tendril you were bonded with.

Neteyam disconnected the bond, and looked up at the mighty tree, your gaze burning holes into his face.

"My mother told me that now I am truly one of the People, I can make my bow out of the wood of Hometree.....and choose a woman," he cheesed, the thought of you being his mate bringing a smile to his face.

But you did not think the same.

Oh. He has already chosen.

You expression fell, but you did your best to keep your smile happy.

"Who are you going to choose? We have many good women for a future Olo'eyktan," you tearfully recommended, a quiet gasp leaving you lips as a atokirina floated down to you, resting in your palms.

Neteyam snapped his head over to you, confused.

What in the world are you talking about?

"Eyati is a good hunter."

"I do not want Eyati," he quickly shut down, looking at you intently.

Lovingly.

"Oh," you nodded. He didn't want a huntress, then.

"Ilyena is a good dancer."

Neteyam internally facepalmed.

You were not understanding.

He thought he was being quite obvious with his admiration.

His frequent touches, talking of finding a woman, taking you to a spot where people literally go to mate.

You were the only one he wants. The only one he could ever want.

What else would he have to do to get that through your head?

Once the atokirina flew away, you returned your hand to the earth, where Neteyam smoothly interlocked his with yours.

"I do not think you are understanding. I have already chosen," he smiled, looking down at your conjoined hands.

"Oh," you sighed, averting your eyes from him. "Who is the lucky woman?"

Oh, for Eywa's sake.

He groaned, cupping your face in his hand and turning you to face him, where he roughly landed his lips on yours, practically knocking the wind out of you.

At first, you were shocked. All this talk of women, and now he was kissing you?

But you decided to let a good thing be.

You kissed back, matching his roughness as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands immediately went to your waist, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled out from the kiss, staring at you like a lovesick fool.

And his heart seemed to pick up speed when he saw that you were looking at him the exact same way, a beautiful smile on your face.

It seems you liked it better when he showed, not told.

He would remember that for the future.

"(y/n), it is you. You are the woman I have chosen. I cannot think of anyone better to be at my side," he beamed, switching his gaze to the glowing tendrils around him, along with the many atrokirina that decided to make an arrival.

"Do you not see? Eywa has chosen us for each other."

You were on the verge of happy tears.

You had loved this man for so, so, so long, and so hard. And to hear that he has loved you with the same intensity, if not more, was something that warmed you from the inside out.

"I see you, my Neteyam," you smiled, cupping his face in your hands, resting your forehead on his.

"I see you, my love," he smiled back, giving your lips a peck.

It wasn't enough.

As he pulled back, you chased him, attaching your lips once more, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

He groaned, his hands softly caressing your hips as he kissed back with just as much fervor.

"My Neteyam," you sighed, trailing your kisses from his lips, down to his jawline.

He understood your quiet plea, shifting his position so he sat on his knees, before lifting you into his lap.

With this new angle, he peppered your chest with loving, heavy kisses, making you sigh once more.

You raked your hands through his hair, one sensually trailing down his braid and carefully holding up his kuru.

Using your other hand, you found yours, and were about you connect them when Neteyam stopped you.

"My love, are you sure? We do not have to do this if you are not ready," he asked, firmly.

Don't get him wrong. He wanted do to this more than anything in the world.

Having you in his arms, kissing him like this, was his greatest dream come true.

But just because it was his, did not mean it was yours.

And he wanted you to do this of your own volition.

"I am ready, Neteyam. I have always been ready," you assured, resting your forehead on his as you landed another heavy kiss on his lips.

With that, he nodded, and you made tsaheylu.

And the moan you two set loose surely reached the stars.

The feeling that enveloped the both of you was too much.

You could feel everything the other was feeling perfectly. Their heartbeat, their longing, their love.

Oh, the feeling of Neteyam's love was flooding your senses so much it was overwhelming.

Every piece of exposed skin he touched burned with fiery heat, but it felt so, so good.

You had no idea he loved you to this extent.

And as he lay you down on the mossy ground, him placing feather-light kisses across your exposed chest, the vision of children flashed through your head.

His vision.

They were your children, the kids running around the tent as the two of you lay in the corner, curled into each other.

Even in a moment so intimate, even as he entered you, his thoughts still traveled to something so wholesome and domestic.

It made you blush uncontrollably, and he sensed this.

"I....hnngh...see you, my (y/n). And there...fuck....is no one else I can see to be the mother of my children...shit...," he said huskily, peppering kisses on your shoulder with each thrust.

As tears welled in your eyes, you tightened your grip around his neck, another moan escaping you lips.

"I see you....ohhh!....my Neteyam," you sighed, bringing your hands to rest on his chest.

But for the first time, the both of you felt like that word didn't express enough.

Your love for each other expanded farther than just I see you, it was indescribable.

There was no Na'vi word for it.

But there was an English one.

One Jake had taught both of you, respectfully.

"I love you!" the two of you exclaimed in unison as you finished together, Neteyam making his final thrust.

And as you both lay on the ground, intertwined, coming down from your high, Neteyam said something that made you feel all the happiness in the world.

"I am with you now, (y/n)," he sighed, a tired smile on his face.

"We are mated for life."

[httpsleclerc]

⭐︎always an angel, never a god⭐︎

platonic!Sebastian Vettel x platonic!redbull!driver reader

in which redbull!driver!reader's idol takes notice of her eating disorder.

cw: eating disorders, loneliness, angst, some overall sadness, a small mention of Pierre being a dick to the reader, the reader feels inadequate and that she doesn't belong

w/c - 1.9k words

based on this request !

Since making your Formula 1 debut at the start of the 2016 season, you had made quite name for yourself. You had signed for Red Bull at the age of 19 and were the first female to do so - however, your career was not all sunshine and rainbows. Being a woman in a male dominated sport was not all that it was cracked up to be - You were told to smile and nod in response to any hateful or spiteful comments you received, both online and in person; You were told how you paled in comparison to your male teammate - despite you consistently outperforming him or performing at the same level, you were directly behind him in the drivers championship table, so you didn't quite understand how you could be worse than him. 

You could ignore those comments easily enough, they just didn't like you because you were good enough to be in the position you were in, they were just jealous that they weren't. You couldn't however, ignore the comments made about your body. At first you ignored them the best that you could, but soon you found their words swirling around your head as you sat down to eat dinner, and you would no longer be hungry, but motivated to head to the gym for a late night workout. You had been 19 years old when you first thought that maybe, just maybe, you could be struggling with an eating disorder - the idea quickly left your head as you got older and the comments slowly stopped about your body and what you ate, so maybe you were doing something right finally.

You didn't bother with many of the other drivers other than max, the rest of them were all too worried about what would be said about them in the media if they were caught talking to you - talking to you risked cheating rumours, which some of their tumultuous relationships wouldn't survive. The only other driver to take a bit of an interest in you, was your idol, Sebastian Vettel - Who you had spent many Sundays in your childhood watching in front of the TV, telling yourself that one day you would race with him. You wished you could have warned younger you how hard things would be, but she already knew - the constant teasing from the boys you karted with had been enough to make your mom and dad want to pull you from the sport all together, but they couldn't find it in themselves to take your dream away from you. Sebastian could only imagine how isolated you felt in your dream career, he noticed the way that your podiums were rarely, if ever celebrated, how you never appeared to be invited out afterwards, always heading back to your hotel, alone with your trophy. He also took notice of how if you were invited out for dinner, you would always decline politely, explaining that your trainer would kill you if you went off of your meal plan - But Sebastian knew who your trainer was, they were by no means particularly strict with you and would understand if you wanted to have a treat one night.

Sebastian knew the reality of your situation all too well, in a sport like formula 1 with such an emphasis on physical fitness, he knew of the eating disorder culture within the sport - and it pained him to see his favourite young driver fall victim to the aforementioned culture. It also angered him to know that it was not all the fault of the sport, but of the media too and their constant obsession with you and everything you did. Deciding that he couldn't watch you fall deeper and deeper into the throws of an eating disorder any longer, Sebastian decided that he would gently approach you about it - He thought he had a good enough relationship with you for you to not suspect anything in his intentions; Since you had joined the sport and he had noticed the isolation you were subjected to, Sebastian had taken on almost a father-like role in your life, since you were so far away from your own family. 

But, since you were a girl, Sebastian thought it would be best to consult his wife, Hanna first - Just to be cautious, he didn't want to upset you, never.

"Be honest with her Sebastian, and let her know that you're there to listen," Hanna advised him over the phone, none of his daughters had as much life experience as you did, so in terms of this in being a father, he was not at all prepared. "She might not open up to you right away, but let her know that you'll be there for her when or if she is, she'll appreciate it." Sebastian sighed sadly at the thought of you suffering silently, on your own.

"Thank you, Hanna," He said to his wife, appreciative of how to at least let the young girl he had essentially adopted know that he would be there for her should she ever want to open up on her clear problem.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Hanna too, was worried about the young girl that her husband had spoken so highly of. Her heart broke for the young girl, seeing how ruthlessly the press and media tore the woman down, and how she could clearly never defend herself without being portrayed as unstable or emotional. "You're doing the right thing, Seb. I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too," He told her, hanging up after as he let out a deep sigh, gathering his thoughts on how he was going to go about this. He knew he could be straight with you, it was apparent in your attitude towards the media that you were never coddled; but he also knew that you were not the person the media painted you out to be, that you were quiet and reserved, that growing up you had a rabbit called Pierre, which you thought would have made you a friend in ones Pierre Gasly, but it only made the aforementioned driver laugh at you - That story in particular infuriated Seb. Collecting his thoughts, he made his way out of his hotel room and over to yours, which was across and 3 doors down from his own - knocking on your door once, twice, and then a third time. He was ready to knock for a third time, when-

"Oh, hi Sebastian," You greeted the older German standing at your door. Your heart started pounding, this was how your short lived friendships all ended - they'd come to your hotel room, tell you they couldn't be seen with you anymore because of how it was affecting their relationship, and that was it. But Sebastian was your idol, you weren't sure you could handle losing his friendship, not after how you had opened up about so much to him. 

"Hi, can we talk?" You noted the concern in his voice, furrowing your brows as you nodded and stepped to the side, allowing him to step into your hotel room. Sebastian gave you a small smile as he turned to look at you, taking in how your t-shirt hung off of your frame, emphasising the amount of weight you had lost. "Is everything okay?"

This was not how this conversation normally went. There was never any concern for your feelings or how you'd take this.

"Um," He could see the confusion on your face.  "Yeah, I um, yeah, I'm fine. What's going on, Seb?" You asked him, tilting your head as he sat down on your bed. You tentatively sat beside him, weary of what he was trying to go about here.

"I just noticed that you've lost a lot of weight recently," Oh God. He knows. "And I'm just concerned about you - I know how they talk about you...everywhere and I just want you to know that even if you're not ready right now, that I'm here to listen to you anytime you need to talk." Sebastian explained to you, watching as tears bubbled in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"I don't feel like I have control over anything, Sebastian," You cried, breaking down into tears in front of the man you called your hero. He frowned deeply, in the 5 years he had driven with you, you had never cried, not once - not in front of him, at least. "It's just...I can't seem to do anything write ever. Everything I do on the track, good or bad, its always made out like I'm a bad person or a bitch. I beat Max and everyone calls me a wannabe or a show off, I come second to Max and suddenly second place is the first to lose and I don't deserve my seat. I can't fucking win ever," You ranted, letting out an occasional sob as Sebastian put a comforting hand on your back. "But, I have control over how I look so at first I thought it was fine because I was only doing it to shut up the media but I couldn't stop and now I feel sick any time I try and eat."

His heart broke for you as you sobbed, realising that your problem had had such prominence in your life years before he had even noticed. He was however, thankful you had opened up to him.

"Thank you, for telling me that, that was really brave," He told you softly, smiling gently as you wiped your eyes dry of the tears that fell from them. "I need you to know, that you, more than anyone deserve your seat in Formula 1, you worked so hard for so long, and there's so many drivers on the grid that only have their seats because of their parents or who they know, but you worked for your seat and you have so much talent. Like you said, you beat Max," You sniffled as Sebastian spoke to you, almost feeling your heart healing as you heard your idol speak so highly of you. "I know you feel like you have no control over what they say, and to be honest with you, you don't. And it is much easier said than done, but you have to ignore them, if you give them what they want, you let them win, and you of all people, would hate to see that happen, I imagine." He said, smiling upon hearing you laugh quietly.

"Thank you, Sebastian," You said, smiling at him as you looked at Sebastian. "It really means a lot," Sebastian gently held your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he saw you smile for what felt like the first time in forever. "Aside from Max, you're the only one who's actually treated me like I actually belong here."

"You do belong here, and I will tell you that every day until you believe me."

[sabertoothwalrus]

I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec

I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.

First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol

as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.

Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.

The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.

The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.

Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.

It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!

In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.

I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.

okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

All Yours. Only Yours.

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

It's been a little over 4 months since you and Lewis were forced to part your ways. It's been a little over 4 months since you have not been feeling yourself.

You weren't officially in a relationship, but you both fell hard for each other, you saw a future with each other. You were his baby girl, the only woman he wanted everything with. And you, you felt the happiest ever with him, safe in his arms, in his embrace. His kisses and his soft touch were your safe haven.

But 4 months ago all of that stopped when your father found out you were seeing Lewis. Your father completely lost it when he saw Lewis' arms wrapped around your waist and his lips pressed against yours. He couldn't stand the fact that his little girl was with a man 14 years older than her. He didn't see you as the woman that you were and so for him that relationship between the two of you was unacceptable.

At that very moment he forbade you to ever see him again. He told Lewis that if he ever approached you again, he would not be held accountable for his actions. He didn't care that Lewis was a seven time world champion nor that you would be financially secure with him for the rest of your life and you would never lack for anything. In his eyes, Lewis was a slob taking advantage of a young girl, his daughter, he despised it as much as he despised him.

You tried to protest, to convince him that Lewis' intentions with you were pure, that he would never do anything to hurt you and the most important thing that you love him and that you are truly happy with him. You begged, you were desperate, but that only made him angrier so that's when he gave you an ultimatum - if you choose to be with Lewis, you can forget that you have a father. It was either Lewis or him.

Your father's lack of understanding broke your heart, and it broke Lewis to see you like that. He could handle many things, but seeing his girl suffering was not on of those things. Lewis decided that he was not going to be the guy who stood between father and daughter and destroyed their close relationship.

He was forced to make one of the hardest decisions of his life and get away from you for good. He pushed you away, pretended he didn't want to see you again even though he was dying to. Deep down you knew why he was doing it, but that didn't ease your suffering one bit.

One night you cried so much that you physically felt pain in your chest. You could no longer spend your days and nights wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had found someone new or if he was still thinking about you. You felt like your head was going to explode from all those questions you didn't know the answers to. That's when you found yourself knocking on his door late at night.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked as he opened the door. His eyes quickly filled with worry when he saw you crying in front of his door, but little did he know that as soon as you saw him, you instantly felt better.

He was standing in front of you, shirtless, looking down at you and barely holding back from pulling you to himself.

"Lew..I can't..I can't take it anymore.." You sobbed. "Don't you dare push me away and tell me that I can't be here because I don't wanna hear it!"

His eyes softened at your words and heart hurt a little even though he felt relieved that you still felt the same way about him.

"Baby girl.." He wiped away the tears under your eyes with his thumbs before pulling you into a tight hug. The tightest one yet.

"I miss you, Lew" You whisper as you wrap your arms around his neck your eyes darting to his lips. "Don't you miss me too?" You ask tilting your head a little as he brushes the hair out of your face.

"Of course I do" He sighs leaning his forehead against yours. "Fuck, I miss you more than I thought was possible"

"Then let's not miss each other anymore. Let's put an end to this agony and be together" Your eyes pleaded.

"Y/n, I want that more than life itself, but you know it's not that simple"

"I don't care, I've had enough. I won't let anyone else decide my happiness." You stated. "It's you that I want. Maybe some people will find it hard to accept, but it's 10 times harder for me to be without you than to fight with my dad."

Your words somehow brought peace to his soul. They encouraged him to fight for you and your future because for him there was before you, but there is no after you.

"I never thought you were gonna get that much under my skin. I should be pushing you away right now, telling you you should find someone else, someone better for you. I just can't seem to.. Or I don't want to. Or maybe both."

After what felt like ages, his lips finally met yours again. The kiss wasn't soft nor gentle, it was hungry and passionate, eager for more. "Come here" He slammed the door before patting the back of your thighs to which you responded by jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You never broke the kiss as he led you towards his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He helped you take off your clothes leaving you only in your bra and panties. He took a second to admire your body tracing his fingers over your hip bone. "You're so beautiful, baby"

You smiled at his compliment tilting your head to get a better look of him as he started leaving kisses all over your stomach. Once his lips reached the hem of your panties, he stopped for a second to look up at you while his hand caressed your leg.

"Can I kiss you here?" He asked softly.

"Please kiss me there" You quickly granted his request.

"Spread your legs for me"

He left a kiss over the lace fabric before tugging them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He started slowly, licking you lazily up and down your folds. You were so eager for him that you could feel your wetness trickling down your holes. You clenched your legs around his head giving him a perfect opportunity to grab your ass and bury his face deeper.

"Ahh, yes, yes" You moaned as his tongue swirled over your clit. He was changing his pace, leaving quick kitten licks and then attaching his lips to your clit and sucking on it.

You started to move too much from the pleasure that was overwhelming you so he put his hand over your stomach to keep you in place. His other hand found your entrance and the tips of his fingers started teasing you circling around it.

"Please" You pleaded.

"Please what? What do you want, baby?"

"Put your fingers in me"

The sight of you lying so spread out for him, whimpering his name, begging him for more made him grind his hips against the mattress trying to create any kind of friction to his rock hard dick.

Granting your wish he pushed his index finger in. His eyes were stuck on your parted lips and closed eyes, he loved how responsive, how obedient you were to him. You arched your back as he added another one pumping them in and out of you. It didn't take long for your legs to start shaking and squeezing around his head.

"That's it baby, cum around my fingers"

As you finished, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips to taste you not wasting any drop as he licked them clean.

"You did so good" He said softly into your ear before he kissed you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"Have you been with anyone else since we stopped seeing each other?" You were curious. You don't know how you would react if he actually was. It would hurt you, definitely, but you'd still want him as much as you do now.

"No, baby girl, the other side of this bed belongs only to you." He smiled caressing your cheek knowing there was no other girl for him except for you.

"And what about you?"

"All yours. Only yours." He assured you once again bringing peace to your mind and heart. "Gonna prove it to you right now" He said leaving sloppy kisses down your neck. "Gonna show you how much I missed you"

Pulling down his shorts and boxers, he pressed his dick against your stomach slowly grinding himself up and down while holding his weight on his arms just above you.

Your hand slid down taking him in your hand and giving him a few strokes. Your touch made him shiver and groan in response. It was as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Fuck me, Lew" You whispered. Your hand led him to your entrance and he wasted no time pushing himself inside of you. He left kisses all over your face and stayed still so you could get used to him. Once you felt ready he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"You feel how hard I am for you? Only you can make me this hard, baby" You moaned at his words wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Uhh, yes baby, fuck me, fuck me hard"

"Fuck, baby, you're so dirty" Lewis got a little carried away at your prompting so he suddenly and strongly increased his pace. Your breasts spilled out of your bra as he pounded into you and he couldn't resist but to leave mark just above your nipple. "So fucking perfect"

Your brought your hands to your boobs squeezing them and playing with your nipples and the sight drove him completely crazy. It awakened the animal in him so he pulled out only to push his dick all the way inside you. You winced pushing your hand at his pelvis as he hit your deepest spot.

"You okay, baby? Want me to stop?" He asked with concern.

"No, no it's just you're so big and so deep inside" You whimpered.

"Yeah, baby? You feel me here?" He smirked putting his hand over your lower stomach. "You feel me in your stomach? Just a little more love, I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?" You nodded as he started slowly moving again.

"Take it just like that. My good girl taking my dick so well. So pretty. Can't get enough of you." You moaned as your hand slid down your stomach adding pressure to your clit while Lewis continued fucking you.

"You gonna let me fill you up?"

"Mhm" You moaned.

"Yeah? Wanna see my cum dripping out of your pussy" The pressure in the pit of your stomach started building up again with every dirty word that left his lips. "Gonna get you full of my cum, fuck" That's all it took to push you over the edge and come undone around him. You screamed out his name and his orgasm followed yours filling you up to the brim.

Both panting, sweating, you could hardly catch your breath as a strong sense of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Still deeply immersed in you, he propped himself up on his elbows hovering over you and leaving a kiss on your cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked.

"I'm more than okay" You smiled rubbing his cheek with your thumb as his eyes lit up.

"That's good to hear."

"Let's take a shower and cuddle until we fall asleep, yeah?"

"Wait, before we do that, I just wanna tell you something"

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, so much" And there it was. His first I love you to you. The first time he said it out loud even though he's showed it in so many ways already. "Wanna spend the rest of my life with you"

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I love you, baby."

[thewulf]

Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

-

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

-

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

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[multifandomimagin3s]

Reader is angry at them - 141 + Los Vaqueros

Requested by Anon

mentions of sex, no actual smut, reader is gender neutral.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

His reaction would probably depend on multiple factors: why you were angry in the first place, if he's angry at you too, and how close he is to you in the first place.

If you weren't close, he probably wouldn't give a shit - if you were in the military he would probably pull rank, using his status to put you in your place should your anger towards him impair your abilities on a mission.

If you two were close, he'd probably either give you the silent treatment or would be upfront, asking you "Right, what's the fucking problem?"

If he's angry at you too, mans is stubborn as a bull.

He'd probably remove himself from your presence entirely if he gets to the point he feels physically angry - with all his past trauma, he doesn't want to risk hurting you in a fit of anger.

You'd probably have to talk to him first unless he was genuinely in the wrong, but even then he'd only truly apologise if you were genuinely hurt by what he'd said or done.

Well, apologise is a strong word in this context - you'd probably get a gruff "sorry" since he's a man of few words and doesn't like making himself vulnerable.

The make-up sex would be 10/10 - he can't verbalise what he wants to say, so he'd rather show you.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Less stubborn than Ghost but not by much.

If you're angry at him, he wants you to just tell him outright so you can talk it out.

If you don't tell him, then it's the silent treatment.

If he's aware that he's done something to upset you, then he is in fact quick to apologise - flowers, chocolates, the whole nine yards.

Probably would be the type to try and make you laugh when you're angry - and dammit it works nearly every time.

He's generally a happy-go-lucky guy so if he's angry at you, it would probably be over something important - like if you were on a mission together and you risked your life either to save his or another teammate's.

In which case, he wouldn't hide his feelings at all - he wears his heart on his sleeve, and tells you just how much you mean to him and how the thought of loosing you makes him feel physically sick to his stomach.

Captain John Price

Hm, I think his reactions would be interesting.

He's older and more mature, has seen some shit in his life that were more than a bit traumatising to say the least.

He's also of high ranking within the military, and is more than used to dealing with the anger of others and dishing out his own share.

Similarly to Ghost, it would all depend on how close you two were to begin with.

If you're not close and you're a lower rank than him, be prepared for months of bathroom duty, intensive training and god knows what other punishments he has up his sleeve - not in the fun way either.

If you are close, he'd probably just ask you to tell him what's bothering you - if he can fix it, consider it done. If it's something bigger, then you can talk about it, he's relatively reasonable when it comes to most things.

If he's angry at you too - he doesn't do the silent treatment and doesn't do angry outbursts either.

He's calm - so calm, it's almost unnerving.

He can voice his anger with a calm tone - it feels as if you're dancing on the edge of a knife.

If you were giving him the silent treatment, he'd leave you to it - if it went on for a long period of time, then he'd confront you because he's "too old for this shit."

The best way for you both to get your frustrations out? Sex. After not being able to talk to you for what felt like weeks, he secretly craves the intimacy.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

See I can't see him getting angry over anything minor - he's too laidback for that.

Like with Soap, if you risked your life for his on a mission, oh he would be pissed.

But he probably wouldn't tell you outright - you'd have probably gotten some choice words from Price about being reckless; "Don't let me catch you trying something like that again, you fucking muppet!"

He'd go dead silent - not to be confused with the silent treatment though, the anger is there and it isn't dormant, just bubbling up.

Would probably start his rant once you asked him if he was okay.

No, he wasn't.

He'd be pacing in his room, going on and on about how stupid it was for you to practically try and get yourself killed to save him, how the team needs you, how much he loves and cares about you, and how guilty he would feel if you did in fact die trying to save his life.

I reckon he'd start to cry out of anger, at which point you'd hug him and let him get it all out of his system.

He's not a big crier, but this wasn't just a run of the mill thing.

Please don't pull anything like that again.

Alejandro Vargas

Silent treatment? Never heard of it.

He's a passionate man through and through, so if he's angry at you then he's going to tell you. And probably loudly.

Always feels guilty if he ends up yelling at you during an argument and apologises soon after.

He too wears his heart on his sleeve - well he would but as he tells you all the time, you have his heart.

If he had it his way, he would protect you from all harm that the world could throw your way; and he sure tries to.

When you're angry at him, he'd probably try to woo you out of it - depending on what you're angry about this usually works, he can be very smooth.

Also a big fan of make-up sex - angry sex lets him release his pent up frustrations in a healthier way, and it lets him show how much he loves you.

If you tell him why you're angry at him, he'd listen; if it was over something relatively small like him leaving things lying around your apartment or him eating your leftovers, then he'd make mental notes not to do it again; if it was over something bigger, like how dangerous his job is and how he risks his life on the regular, he probably wouldn't respond well to it.

It's his job and his comrades are family to him - he doesn't plan on giving it up anytime soon, so that would be a big talk you guys would have to have.

Overall, he's a stubborn guy but he has your best interests at heart.

Rudy Parra

On the outside, he's a quiet guy.

But he's also a Sergeant Major - so it's not as if getting angry isn't in his toolkit.

If you're angry at him, he'd encourage you to just tell him, let it out - shout at him, cry, whatever you need to do, just don't go silent on him.

He's a grown man, he can take it.

When he's angry though, he's a bit of a hypocrite - he wouldn't yell at you or voice his frustrations for a while, but wouldn't go silent either.

He'd just give you this grumpy look >:(

You'd eventually be able to talk it out but he's thought through everything he wants to say about a million times in his head first.

I think make-up sex would be probably the last thing he'd be thinking of in the moment, he'd much rather just have some intimacy between you two - whether that be watching a movie together, cuddling, going out somewhere, just some time to yourselves.

If he genuinely was at fault, he'd dote on you - even more than he usually does.

He'd run you a bath, give you a massage, cook you a meal, you name it.

He doesn't like it when you're both angry at each other and aren't talking so when you're able to talk it out and make amends, he shows how his heart beats for you.

[mrrharper]

Mandatory PE Class

Markus walked through the university campus, his face clearly showing his annoyance at the situation he was going through. His school decided to "promote physical activity among the student body", and by "promote" they meant a mandatory Physical Education class every junior had to go through. And Marcus was not happy about it.

Marcus was an introvert - he didn't particularly enjoy parties, going to bars, or other typical college activities. He spent his time reading, researching and weightlifting. This might seem weird for a "nerd", but whenever Marcus put on his noise-canceling headphones and grabbed the bar with 100 or so pounds on it, he felt like he could finally relax.

But even though Marcus enjoyed going to the gym, he enjoyed it when he was there alone - no one with him, the amount of people in the gym at a minimum. These were the perfect conditions for him. This class would not be it. He would have to deal with God knows how many people, plus most likely some smart ass coach, who thinks he's the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The university gave him a choice of what he wanted to do during the class and Marcus chose weight training, hoping he would be left alone and allowed to just follow his usual routine without any interruptions.

Marcus arrived at the athletics department's building and after wandering through its corridors he found his way to Weight Room C09. He knocked and heard a booming voice invite him inside. He opened the door and walked into a smallish locker room, where a few guys were getting ready and another man, clearly older than the others, stood on the side and waited. That was probably the coach.

"Marcus, right?" the supposed coach walked up to Marcus. "I'm Assistant Coach Baker and I'll be leading your group this semester." He extended his hand and Marcus shook it reluctantly. He quickly turned around and began changing into his gym gear.

Once everyone was ready (and there weren't many people in Marcus' group - only 6 guys) the group led by Coach Baker moved to the weight room proper. Marcus wanted to walk up to Baker and ask him if he could just do his own routine, but before he had mustered up the courage to do this Baker began warming up and expected the rest to do the same. Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed, before joining the group.

The next hour passed slowly. Baker had the group do a fairly quick and lite set of exercises, lite for Marcus at least. After the class had ended everyone was getting out of their sweaty shirts in the locker room. Marcus put his gear in his backpack and as the rest of the students began leaving the room, he walked up to Coach Baker.

"Sir, could I make a certain request?" He asked, a bit shy.

"Oh, Marcus, yeah? I also wanna talk with you about something. But go on." He wanted to talk with Marcus about something? That didn't sound great. He stood silent for a moment.

"So..." Baker looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh yeah. So... I was wondering... I, I go to the gym quite often, and have for a few years now... and so I thought... Would it be a problem if during these PE classes I... I just followed my usual routine and you, you just did what you have planned with the rest?"

Coach smiled as he listened. Marcus wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

"Well, Marcus, I'm glad you see the importance of exercise. But I don't want no divisions in my group, you understand. I want to work with all of you, show something to everyone. Although, because you asked, I'll be sure to adjust the exercises for your level." Marcus nodded, although he wasn't really happy with Baker's response. "And while we're talking, I wanted to ask you something - would you be interested in trying out for our football team?"

This took Marcus by surprise. The football team? Where did that idea come from? He was not about to join a group of brain dead jocks.

"What?" he simply asked, confused.

"Well, I have noticed your strength during our hour together. And I think you would do great on the gridiron." Baker put his hand on Marcus' shoulder. Marcus did not like that.

"Wel, uhm... thank you for the proposition, but... no, I'm, I don't think I would fit in."

"Are you sure? I could help you fit in just right." Baker grinned again.

"Yeah... I'm sure... Mr. Baker" Marcus stood there and avoided eye contact with the older man.

"Call me Coach" Baker laughed. "If you're sure... well, I ain't gonna force ya. Now go, I'll see you next week."

As Marcus left the building he sighed. This was going to be an exhausting semester.

Reality turned out weirder than he expected.

As the months progressed Marcus attended every PE class, his annoyance with Baker's refusal to just let him do what he wanted not strong enough to risk messing with his attendance. Baker meanwhile stuck to his word, and for the most part Marcus was doing what the rest of the group was doing.

Although... this wasn't the whole truth. Because even though Marcus wasn't allowed to do his own thing, while doing the exercises Baker would come up to him and ask him to change something about the movements, add more weight, do another variant of the exercise. So even though he was working with the group, he did get the chance to do way more challenging things.

Baker himself was weirdly invested, at least that's how it seemed to Marcus. He very much got into that role of the supportive coach, he stood next to Marcus, counted his reps, motivated him to "just push further". Marcus found that strange, but didn't want to get into any kind of argument with the coach, so he just went along with this.

As the semester came to an end Marcus also had to admit he got something out of these classes. The exercises Baker had him do were pushing his limits, and he did adjust his normal gym routine to include stuff he learnt from him As he looked in the mirror, standing in his room on the day of the last class before the end of the semester he had to admit he was bigger than 5 months prior.

The last class came and went pretty uneventfully. Marcus beat his PB on the bench by 10 pounds and after an hour he came back to the locker room sweaty and gross. Baker thanked all the guys for coming, asked them to continue going to the gym and said goodbye.

As Marcus got ready to leave the locker room Baker looked at him and said "See you at practice, 90" and went back to the weight room. Marcus had no idea what that meant, but the class was over so he just shrugged and left.

Marcus entered his dorm room and sat behind his desk. He had some work to do on a paper he wanted to submit next week. He opened his laptop and quickly got to work. After a while he needed something to drink so he stood up and walked up to his mini fridge. There he noticed a mug standing on top of it. It was a cup branded with the logo of the Lions, his university's football team.

This was weird, as Marcus did not recall ever getting any merchandise like that. Maybe someone left it here by mistake, Marcus didn't know. But it seemed it was the only clean mug he had, so he quickly poured soda into it and went back to his laptop.

He got into the flow of writing and research pretty quickly. Then, around half an hour later, he was surprised by a notification from some group chat. 10 unread messages from "jungle kingssss 💪". What the hell was that? Marcus was sure he never joined such a conversation. Maybe it was some new kind of scam.

The notifications just kept coming, and at one point instead of deleting it Marcus clicked on it and a chat window appeared.

nah bruh, ya slayed that bitch well dude - steroidss#96

dude concentrate ffs - big dog jake#7

stfu bros where the fuck is tron where ya need him - mike chief#53

hes jerkin of or meal preppin bro, ya know that - steroidss#96

Marcus looked at the chat, even though he had no idea what he was looking at. It seemed he somehow had access to a group chat of some random meatheads. Although the numbers from their nicknames were tickling something at the back of his head, somehow.

if hes jerkin his fat dick ill kick his fat ass, we have state to fuckin beat - big dog jake#7

State? What does it mean they have to beat-- oh yeah, the Lions' next game is against Ohio State.

Wait.

What does that we mean in "we have state to beat"?

How did he know the Lions' schedule?

Marcus felt his head spin a little. Was he sick? He looked at the screen again and suddenly a new message appeared.

am not fuckin jerkin off you piece of shit, got fuckin dumbass school to take care of you idiots - tron's big dick#90

Marcus looked down. His fingers were still touching the keys. HE WROTE THAT!

And that we... It meant the football team! Marcus was reading the football team's group conversation. How the fuck did this happen?!

dunno why i even bother wit any of your stupid fat asses you fuckin shits - tron's big dick#90

Marcus jumped out of the chair. He did it again! His fingers were betraying him. He shut the laptop down and opened the window. Maybe he had to breathe in some fresh air. Was he hallucinating? Was this some infection? What was happening to him?!

He sat on his bed and breathed in, then out. In and out, in and out. In and out. In and out-- was he drooling!? Marcus wiped the drool from his face. It was getting late and he decided it would be beneficial to go to bed early. He turned around to get to his bed only to notice a sweaty hoodie with badly cut-off sleeves. It had the Lions' logo on the front and the number 90 on the back.

This was not happening.

This was just a dream.

Marcus told himself that repeatedly as he got into his PJs. He checked if his laptop was turned off and laid on his bed. He could swear he could feel a faint smell of sweat and... cum? But this didn't stop him from quickly falling asleep.

Marcus was dragged out of sleep by his alarm clock. He slowly got his body into an upright position, then began going through his usual morning routine.

He made himself a protein shake with added creatine.

He ate the oatmeal and eggs he always had for breakfast.

He put on the sweaty shirt from two days ago. It was fine, no one would notice. And he looked hot in it anyways.

He sent a message on the group chat.

you bitches ready to get dominated n pushed into the grass by my fat dick - tron's big dick#90

He got his gear ready and put his duffel bag on his shoulder.

the faggot of the team has spoken everybody - hall/of/glory#38

Marcus walked through the campus. He let out a dumb chuckle as he read the message. Jalen was the best.

not everyone can slay pussy like tron, bitch - tron's big dick#90

He entered the building and walked towards the locker room-- Marcus suddenly stopped and looked around.

Where was he?

He didn't remember waking up.

He didn't remember dressing up.

He didn't remember coming here.

Where was he?

As he tried to understand what the fuck was going on Assistant Coach Baker appeared, walking through the corridor, coming towards him.

"You know why you're here, Marcus?"

"No!" Marcus shouted, surprising himself, but not Baker.

"As I thought. Follow me" the older man waved at him and Marcus instinctively followed his lead. They walked through the football wing of the athletics department until they reached a door. Locker Room L01.

They both entered - Baker first, Marcus second - and Coach pointed to an open locker. Marcus walked up to it and looked inside.

Jersey. Number 90. Schoeder. His name.

Shoulder pads.

Cleats.

Condoms.

Gym gear.

It all reeked of sweat.

So fuckin' musky.

Huhuhuhuh, a proper jock's smell, bro

bro

bruh

WHAT!?

Coach came up to Marcus and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you know why you're here, 90?"

Marcus opened his mouth and tried to answer. But no words came out.

Coach grinned and took a sweaty Under Armour shirt from his locker. He then put the shirt up to his nostrils.

Marcus automatically inhaled and a fog descended over his mind. He took a few more sniffs. So sweaty, so musky. A fuckin' football jock's smell. A stupid grin appeared on his face, drool began flowing from his mouth. Bruh, that was so fuckin' good bro.

"Sick bro..." Tron drawled and put his arms into a double bicep pose. Coach Baker just smiled and took back the shirt before throwing it into the locker.

"Now, 90, put on the gear. I've trained a new defensive end for 5 months. Let's see it it was worth the hassle." He patted Tron on the back before barking at him. "Main field in 2 minutes or you won't be able to walk for a week, 90!"

"Huhuhuhuh" Tron responded with a dumb chuckle. "Yeah, Coach. No worries, dude."

He then quickly got ready and ran out onto the field.

whos ready for a fuckin beatin - tron's big dick#90

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[lysil7777]

Yan! Dom! Fem! Reader x Sub! Boy

"P-please just.. just leave me alone!" James whimpered, tears welling up in his brown eyes, cheeks and ears flushing

"Aww what's wrong Jamie? Are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Do you need your Mommy? You lean in to bite his ear and then whisper "I could be your mommy~"

Jamie hated himself for being unable to stop the moan that came out when you nipped at his ear and hated himself even more for letting you bully and harass him everyday.

When Jamie started college he swore things would be different from high school, he'd be more social, more motivated, and less shy. But 3 months later and the only person he talked to on a daily basis was you.

The first time you two met was in class, he'd braved up the courage to ask you for a pencil, he didn't really need one but he was trying to get out of his comfort zone.

You obliged but only after teasing him a bit asking what he'd give you in return, he got all embarrassed not knowing how to properly return your banter, and offered to pay you which you found very amusing. After a few more interactions you started to grow very fond of the nerd who sat behind you in Calc and before you knew it he was always on your mind.

The way he'd get embarrassed and look away from you when he didn't know what to say, the nervous habits he had when he was out by himself, how kind he was without anyone noticing, he was your adorable little specimen, for you only. And of course the best part was how naughty he could be, oh he was so innocent at the same time tho. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd watched him through his window, jerking it to soft domme porn, pet play, degradation, and dumbification, he was a pervy little nerd but the shame he felt afterward made you want to climb through his window and show him how much more depraved you were.

"What are you talking about y/n, I'm older than you that doesn't even make sense" he rambled looking anywhere but your eyes that were boring into his skull. God why did you have to be so close, why did you have to smell so good and be so pretty and-

His thoughts were cut off when you grabbed his chin and made him look at you directly

"I just think you're the kind of guy who needs direction, someone to help make those difficult decisions a sweet pet like you can't really decide for themselves, and why should you, that pretty little head of yours shouldn't have to worry about a single thing" you cooed squishing his cheeks together and making his lips push out

"I'm eighteen y/n, I can make my own decisions" Jamie argued or tried to through squished lips

At 5'3" you stood an entire nine inches under Jamie, but that didn't make him feel any less small in your presence

Letting go of his face you took a step back pretending to think for a moment "Alright then, I'll let you choose. Give me your number or get wedgied."

Jamie stood there dumb for a second, pants growing tighter and his skin warmer

"W-what?" He laughed nervously

Pulling his face closer to yours by the collar of his shirt you repeated your earlier statement to him in a slow demeaning manner, as if he was brain dead

"Give me your number or you get boo boo, oh no!" Your lips turned down in faux sadness

Jamie wasn't sure what to make of the situation, you usually weren't this physical with him, he was a little scared but mostly turned on. He didn't want to admit it but he had the teeniest tiniest crush on you and he blamed the stupid porn he'd been watching but he only looked into it because of you!

"I-I don't.." he paused

On one hand, he wanted to give you his number but on the other hand he'd never thought getting wedgied sounded so appealing

"You don't hmm~? Well, that just won't do. What happened to my big tough guy? Who was so strong and independent? Do you know darling? Ah, of course you don't. You're just as clueless as a little puppy dog and as cute as one too <3"

The new nickname shocked Jamie and caused him to audibly gasp, his hard-on fully visible now

"You can't j-just-aghhh"

You gripped him by his hair to cut him off

"Oh is puppy trying to give the orders now? What a silly little mutt you are, you really don't know how this works do you? The tent in your pants suggests otherwise but here you are telling me what I can and can't do with my property"

"I-I'm not yours y/n! A-and I'm not a pervert!!"

That first statement made your blood boil and you didn't even realize that you'd pushed Jamie down to his knees

"A good dog doesn't speak, a good dog gets treats and rewards but you're not being a good dog, Jamie. I know your tiny brain might not have comprehended it yet but you are mine, you're only mine. Who else is gonna talk to such a pervert hm? You were made for me, nobody else should ever see you like this, in fact, nobody ever sees you the way I do."

Before he could get a word out you pinned him to his position by placing your shoe on his clothed dick and reached over him to grab his boxers. Putting pressure on both simultaneously had him squirming and letting out the most sinful moans that made you wanna take him right then and there.

"Y-nnnnnnn" he whined, grinding up to help release some of the tension but each movement made the fabric between his ass more uncomfortable

"Shhh puppy, this is the punishment you've been given, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I didn't discipline my pet, you just gotta learn how to be good for me mkay? Don't you wanna learn how to be good and get rewards and pets and walkies~?"

All the new sensations made Jamie's head spin, his body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, his head was fuzzy, his dick was so much more sensitive than it had ever been while he was touching it and he couldn't place why the slight uncomfortableness of the wedgie made his parts throb even more, the whole situation was so intense poor boy couldn't fully wrap his doggy brain around it.

"I-I'm so close y/nnn, oh godd please, give me more! 'M so closeee" he panted not caring how pathetic he looked

"Already? Such a greedy pup for me hehe~ Have you learned your lesson, Jamie? Do you even deserve to cum against the bottom of my shoe?" You sang in a taunting manner pressing down even harder with your shoe

"I-, aghhhhh ohh yess fuck, YES! I'm yours y/n only yours! Promise! I'll-uggghh I'll be-hah hah- good! Just for you!"

"Atta boy! That wasn't so hard was it pup?" Finally letting go of his underwear you continued to let Jamie grind against your foot until he got to the edge

"M- boutta...cum!!" At this point, Jamie had grabbed your leg, chin resting on your thick thigh, eyes teary and glazed over staring up at you as if you were a goddess

Softly cupping his face you lifted it off your leg and removed any contact from his dick causing him to let out strings of breathy and high-pitched whines

You sat down and pulled him into your lap, gently wiping away the fresh fallen tears off his face

"W-*hiccup*why y/n, was so close...so close"

His protest died down with a stern look from you

"You'll be alright puppy, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you from now on, you are mine after all"

The rest of the evening was spent holding your new puppy, rubbing his tummy and flustering him with all the soft attention you gave him

He couldn't believe he got so lucky as to experience you, and as long as he considers being owned and expected to heed your everyword, he was lucky!

End <3

[explicit-tae]

hii 😭 im imagining jungkook as a church boy who is so attracted to the reader that he thinks he’s sinning right before the lords eyes

honestly let's talk about it because now that you said it all i can imagine is...

Repent

Adventures of Jeon Jungkook and the new girl who attends the church retreat - and who is also determined to fuck him.

Warning: church boy jungkook, very shy boy, reader has ulterior motives of course, reader obviously has a corruption kink, dry humping, slight masturbation,

The first time Jungkook has laid his eyes upon you, he noticed there was a shift.

You weren't from here, Jungkook notes. He knows everyone at this church and has yet to know who you were. It only takes a quick word from you to know that this isn't what you usually indulge in.

Y/L Y/N was your name and you've volunteered simply because of your sweet grandmother - the same one who baked such delicious treats for all the children on this trip. She had introduced the two of you and you have given him a smile that causes his heart to jolt suddenly.

Jungkook had to stay away from you and that was his only option. To think that he - a man - had to stay away from you was absurd. However, it was true. Your presence causes an unbalance in his life.

The first unbalance had been when he saw you again. Again, you only volunteered because your grandmother insisted. It was summer and the church always went on a week retreat deep in the woods to be one with nature and naturally, it was hot.

And of course, naturally, your legs were showing.

Legs and shoulders.

Was this where Jungkook's life was going? Him being attracted to any ounce of skin that he had to physically remove himself from the situation entirely.

Jungkook grew up in this church, his parents attending every and any event there was. He was a religious person who stuck to themselves - even as he reached adulthood. That didn't mean he didn't have friends that weren't apart of the church - and as soon as he began to feel things, he called them.

Jungkook's friends had laughed at him. He always hated being the youngest one in said group. Jimin had teased him the entire phone call. Namjoon was trying to keep everyone at bay, but it was no use. "You're acting like a little virgin, Kookie." was Taehyung's words. "Act like you had pussy before, please."

Jungkook decides that his friends were going to be of no help. They didn't grow in the church like he had and had to constantly think about what God thought about his actions - how perverted his mind was going whenever he saw you. Like when you gotten on your knees to pick something up and his mind instantly flashed to you on your knees for him in a less than holy way.

"It's normal to feel these things. You're a man, Kook." Namjoon had assured him over the phone. He's unsure if he'd be able to stay the entire week if he had to keep seeing you and imagining filthy ways to have you.

"You're an artist...why don't you draw what you're feeling?" Yoongi had suggested - and that idea felt ludicrous. He was feeling aroused by you and the only way to release it, by his older friends' thoughts, were to draw it out?

Jungkook had - and at the end of it all he felt like a horrible human being. But once his pencil started to sketch, he couldn't bring himself to stop. While everyone else remained asleep in their respected parts of the cabin, he had been up drawing you.

The drawing started sweet - you smiling just the way Jungkook remembered. You looking out into the distance and even one of you eating one of your grandmothers' infamous cookies.

It went downhill when his mind flashes once more of you on your knees and his hand moves quickly, sketching out the perverse thoughts into his notebook. His mind thinks about what your body would look like underneath your clothes. He draws what he imagines your pretty face would appear if contorted with pleasure, your eyes barely able to remain open...

Before Jungkook knew it, it was morning, and his room shines brightly thanks to the sun. He had slammed his sketchbook shut and hid it deep in his suitcase, a part of his ashamed of what he wasted the entirety of his night on.

"Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook stiffens when he hears your voice directly beside him. He turns slowly, as if afraid. Doe eyes stare at you for a moment and it's only when you speak again does he answer. "Y-Yes. I'm Jungkook."

Jungkook thinks he could melt when you offer him a smile. "Can I see them?"

"H-Huh?"

"I was told you draw."

The color leaves Jungkook's face and he eyes you once more, unsure on who told you that.

"The kids," you turn to the table full of children doing arts and craft. "said Kookie is the best artist here."

Jungkook hearts beat outside his chest and slowly he nods. "I-I can show you." he says, swallowing his nerves. "It's in my room. I'll go get them-"

"I can come." you smile. "I don't want to burden you and have you walk all the way there and back."

Jungkook's heart is beating outside his chest at having you in his room. On the way there he had texted his friends about it, asking for any advice on not passing out - and all he received was vulgar things to do while the two of you were alone; they were never any help.

"These are nice." you compliment, flipping through the countless drawings he had - some of scenery and landscaping, some an assortment of flowers or even fruit. You're laying on your stomach as you flip through them, your legs swaying back and forth behind you. Jungkook thinks they'd feel soft if he ever had a chance to touch them. "Do you draw people, as well?"

"Sometimes." Jungkook's cheeks flush and he wonders if maybe you knew just how much of a pervert he was - why else would you ask these questions? Maybe he should apologize before you accuse him of anything.

"Can I see them?"

There it was - you were gathering evidence. Jungkook swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or do; maybe he should start praying as God would have to be the first to grant his forgiveness. He swallows thickly going through an internal battle with himself.

"Are you scared of me?"

Jungkook glances away at your question. He wants to say that he was - that you were far too beautiful for him to be too close to. Even now he finds it quite difficult to not stare at your legs and admire how femininely woman they look in your shorts. But then he would be questioned further and how could he tell you about the perverted thoughts he has? "I-I..."

"I'm not a very...religious person. I'm sure you know." you speak, closing the sketchbook he has given you that displayed his mild artwork. "I hope you don't think I'm a bad person." you continue, now lying on your back, eyes blinking upwards at him.

"Never!" Jungkook insist, snapping his head back to you quickly. "I'm...just...awkward around new people." he admits, not wanting you to think he didn't like you because of how you lived your life.

You smile at him, eyes unreadable to Jungkook. "So, you wouldn't judge me for what I want to say?"

"Of course not." Jungkook responds meekly. "You are entitled to say whatever you feel. Only God could judge us!"

"You are right." you nod. "Before the week is over, Jungkook..." you begin, eyes staring right into his dark curious ones. You now bring yourself up to a seated position. He waits for you to continue and he swears that he could hear a pin drop in his room. The suspense was killing him. "...I'm going to get you to fuck me."

You leave Jungkook there for the suspense, giggling to yourself at how wide his eyes were and how terrified he looked. His eyes follow your figure leaving his bedroom, his heart in his ears. He's humiliated that those words caused an erection that he couldn't get to go away for the following 15 minutes.

How couldn't you want someone like Jungkook? The boy was gorgeous and had a body and the face of a man that deserved to be the biggest, conceited asshole - and it made it better that he wasn't. He was a shy individual and appeared to avoid any contact from the opposite sex over the age of 18. Though, there wasn't any woman here that appeared to catch Jungkook's eyes, and yes, you've noticed.

Jungkook's wandering eyes were the reason you chose to wear the tight shirts and shorts, regardless of the disapproving glances from the other church go-ers. You've done anything you could have to make Jungkook talk to you - and when he hadn't after the second day, you told yourself matters had to be taken into your own hands.

"So...a hot girl wants to fuck you?" Jimin asks over the phone. "But you're blowing up my phone?"

"This is serious!" Jungkook hisses over the phone. He needed outside help on how to approach this. "What if this is a joke?"

"A joke?" Taehyung scoffs. "What more does she have to say?"

"She'll have to put her pussy on his face to get his dumbass to get the point." Hoseok grumbles, tired of hearing Jungkook and his made-up problems. "I say you give her what she wants. Fuck her raw and-"

"Can you all please?" Namjoon groans loudly. "You're not being supportive."

"Thanks, hyung."

Jungkook decides to listen to Namjoon and talk to you about it - later on in the night. Now you were helping your grandmother set up the food table with the meals she's spent hours preparing that would be served only after the service.

"Kookie!" one boy says, running right into him. "Take a picture of us!"

Jungkook nods, a soft smile on his lips. He was on photography duty and had to make sure enough pictures were taken. This will get his mind off of you, surely.

Jungkook snaps countless pictures throughout the night, making sure everyone was a part of it. In the back of his mind, you remained - your admission to wanting to...sleep with him was weighing heavily.

In the camera lengths Jungkook see's you, already looking his way. Slowly, he lowers it from his face and his eyes meet yours for the first time since this morning. You and here stood across the room but even he could see that you wanted him to notice you.

Jungkook glances away from you and to two more kids running past him. He sighs, stumbling out the way and when he looks back to where you once stood, you were gone.

This is his chance, Jungkook thinks. He could be a little late to the service today. He could never focus if his mind could only think of you.

Jungkook goes towards the direction of where your room would be, the hallway long and quiet. It's vacant as everyone is in the dining hall for service soon. His nerves are kicking his ass, and he contemplates if he should turn around now.

Jungkook stops outside your room door. It's cracked and a bit of light shines behind it. He goes to knock on your door when he finds you - only you were naked, your clothes sprawled on the floor. His breath hitches as you lay on the bed, your legs wide open for him to see.

Jungkook wants to run away and forget that he has seen you in such a vulnerable state, but his body doesn't move. His eyes are unblinking and solely focused on the way your fingers begin to play with yourself.

Your breast appears so full and he imagines how nice they'd feel in the palms of his hands. Your nipples are erect due to the slight coolness of the room this evening and his mouth salivates on just how he imagines his tongue circling them until they're swollen.

Jungkook was a pervert - he was going to have to repent after this. He finds that he cannot move from his spot, watching you play with yourself. One hand grips your breast while the free one begins to enter two fingers inside of you. Your moans fill the room and it's a melodic tune that he wants to hear over and over and over again.

Jungkook's pants are tight, his erection begging for a release from the prison that was his underwear.

"Kookie?"

Jungkook nearly jumps from his skin when you say his name, eyes staring at the cracked door where he stood in the darkness. Maybe if he didn't respond you'd think that he wasn't there.

"Come in." you say, lifting yourself from laying on your bed to sitting on it. "You don't have to be afraid."

"I-I'm so sorry!" Jungkook says from the door, not moving an inch. His heart is pounding and damn it he was afraid. You were becoming to much to handle and his friends were right - he was acting like some virgin teenager that didn't experience this with a girl before.

And truly, it was only a few times with a girlfriend he had that didn't work out. Maybe he should have listened to his friends and not propose to her at their young age; but what were they expecting a religious person like Jungkook to do?

You were going to have to initiate everything, you note. But that's okay - you loved the shy ones like Jungkook. You could only imagine the way he'll whimper beneath you.

You swing the door open, just as naked as before. Jungkook is frozen and his breathing increases. He tears his eyes away from you, dark cheeks. "P-Please don't hate me."

"You're so silly." you laugh. "Why would I hate you?"

Jungkook feels ready to explode when you wrap your arms around his neck. Your chest is against his and you're so close that he can smell a vanilla scent on your skin - he has a good nose, and he just certain it's the warm vanilla collection.

You're teasing him, your tongue poking out from your lips to lick at his neck. "Do you want me to stop?" you asks him - you weren't going to do anything to the man while he was crying the entire time.

"It's...this is fine." Jungkook murmurs meekly.

"You don't sound sure." you tease. "Do you not like me?"

"I-I do!" Jungkook is quick to say. "I just don't want to force you into anything."

You mentally sigh - he wasn't helping you not want him. You want to coo at how cute Jungkook was. To think he didn't want to force you into anything after you've gone this far.

"We have five days left of this trip." you murmur, tongue against his neck. It circles the nape of it. "You aren't going to keep me waiting, right? That wouldn't be nice."

Jungkook whimpers when he feels your teeth biting his neck and it does nothing but make you want to ruin the man further.

"I want you to take some pictures of me." you tell Jungkook, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Some pictures that are for...your eyes only."

Jungkook gulps, his cock jumps in his pants. "O-Okay." is all he could muster up to say.

You remove your arms from his neck and nod to the camera around his neck. "Then start." you tell him.

Jungkook's hands are trembling when he does as you ask him to. He snaps several pictures of your naked body, you are posing in such provocative positions that he's unsure if this is real or a sick, perverted dream of his.

"Now," you clap your hands. "I want to take some pictures of me in a different P.O.V."

Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. "I-"

You pull him onto the bed, caging him between your things. Your pussy is right against his clothed erection, and he yelps when he feels you sit directly on top of him. "Take them."

Jungkook knows these pictures were going to be blurry. His palms are sweaty as he snaps a few more pictures of you directly on top of him. The sight is forever going to be drawn into his mind - naked body on top of his, breast on fully display as you look down on him with such a lustful look in your eyes.

"I-I can't get the right pictures if...if you keep moving." Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. You were grinding against him and through the lenses he watches the way your pussy humps against him.

"Sorry," you murmur. "you just feel good."

Jungkook drops the camera at your words, and you could only snort, but you don't stop your grinding. Your eyes force his to watch you, hands clenching into his shoulders as you beginning to add pressure and speed to your humping. "I can't feel it enough."

Jungkook was going to die here - he's sure of it. One hand removes itself from his shoulder and you slightly lift yourself up so you could yank down his pants. You weren't going to stop there and before you know it, Jungkook's underwear's is yanked just as fast.

"I-I-"

Jungkook winces when he feels you sit directly onto him, your folds against the shaft of his cock. You're wet and warm - he's never felt anything without a condom on.

Your hips begin to buckle, grinding against his shaft. Jungkook's cheeks are bright red with embarrassment and his hands hover above your hips, afraid to touch you. "You're acting like you never touched a woman before."

Jungkook swallows, resting his hands onto your grinding hips. "N-Not one like you." he admits - someone so bold and beautiful who knew exactly what she wanted.

You giggle, then moan. Your hips circle around Jungkook's cock and wished that something so beautiful was inside of you - but you were patient enough to wait. You didn't want to overwhelm the boy more than you were already.

"Don't be afraid to touch me, Kookie." your mouth is so close to his that he wants to connect your lips. He could feel your breath against his face, tickling him as you moan.

Jungkook's hand roam your body, his palm vibrating with anticipation. He grips on the flesh of your ass, whimpering at how soft it was all the while you grinded against him. He roams them up past your hips and towards you back to them cast them down your sides to grip your breast.

"You're very beautiful..." Jungkook whimpers once more, body hot with pleasure. "...so so beautiful."

Jungkook's embarrassed that he can feel himself about to cum, but that was alright because you were determined to cum along with him. You take the initiative to connect your lips to Jungkook's in a needy kiss, your hips buckling with such need.

Humping usually wasn't what you settled for - but Jungkook was just too hot (and shy) to not tease and mess with. You're cumming all over him, creaming against his cock that he cannot help but do the same, hot cum falling all over his abdomen like a hormonal pathetic teenager.

"I can't wait to feel your cum in me." you murmur against his lips and Jungkook swears that alone could make him hard again.

i love leaving my stories on a cliffhanger at the best part

[sanemi-whore]

Cruel World (1)

You had two choices - allow your father to marry you off to the highest bidder or run away and decide your own fate. What you weren't expecting was to encounter a demon along the way. Sanemi x Reader (afab) warning: arrange (forced) marriage, readers father is abusive (not physically), mentions of death/blood, cursing, alcohol intake, sanemi being in denial of his feelings lol, unsolicited touching/groping/humping, masturbating (m), word count: 12.838 masterlist | Part 2 | Final

“Fix your face.” your fathers words were harsh as he spoke to you. He sits across from you, legs crossed and hands in his lap. “You should be honored that a man has offered so much to marry you.”

Honored.

You wanted to laugh.

There was nothing for you to be honored about. There was nothing honorable about being married off to a man you’ve just met - a man twice your age at that. You never imagined being in a loveless marriage with nothing to live for but to be a trophy wife. 

“Yes, Oto-san.” you murmur, head low. 

It wasn’t long ago when your father was requested by a man - an older man who appears just as old as your father, if not older - for a meeting. They spoke in hushed tones while you were ordered to cook and serve tea for your guest. 

Your hand shook as you served the tea when your ears picked up on the conversation.

You were the topic - your hand in marriage. Your head screamed for your father to deny it - to say that no money in the world could even buy you. However, he hadn’t. He agreed without little resistance and you felt sick to your stomach. You couldn’t hear anymore of the conversation and you sprinted to the bathroom. You fell to your knees and released the sobs you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Sleep.” your father ordered. “He will be here tomorrow morning to speak of the arrangements.”

You nod your head. You stand from the cushion you sat upon and bow your head. Your father’s eyes caught the way your throat tightens, but he chooses to ignore it.

You do not say a word to your father before turning away from him and making your way down the dim lit hall to your bedroom. The hardwood floors were cold against your feet as you made your way to your bedroom. You slide the doors closed behind you and lean against it.

You missed your mother. You were certain she wouldn’t allow your father to do this if she was alive. 

Your father himself wouldn’t have done this if life wasn’t cruel to the both of you. He wasn’t always a harsh man that drowned himself in alcohol to escape reality. He was once a kindhearted man who adored his family - until said family was ripped away from him. From the both of you.

You’re unsure how long you were leaning against the door lost in your thoughts. Your eyes began to burn and you blinked rapidly to retain the moisture in your eyes. Your eyes darted to the window - the moon shined through it, casting a glow through the dark room.

Your feet walk before your mind can register it. Before you know it, you’re outside of your home in general and sprinting through the grassy field. You nearly trip over your kimono, but you manage.

You had nowhere to go. You were out of your mind. But you would rather be nowhere than be sold to that old man.

The area is dark and the only light guiding you is the moon above. Your chest heaves as your legs continue to run and you’re positive they would give out soon. You cursed your lack of stamina.

Your eyes swell with tears when you feel a sharp pain in your side.. Your feet lift from the ground and you’re being flung into the nearest tree. Your breath escapes from you and you’re now groaning in pain.

“Well…”

Your vision is blurry, the tears streaming harshly down your cheeks. Your attempt to regain your composure, but you’re badly wounded. 

“...you shouldn't be out at night.” a sinister voice booms through your ears. “You never know who lurks in the dark.”

You can hear footsteps coming closer to you. Your fingernails dug into the dirt, arms trembling.

You scream when your hair is yanked backwards and you’re lifted to your knees, an excruciating pain running through your veins. Your kimono and hadajuban is pushed down to reveal your bare breast and you feel what you assume are teeth sinking into you.

You were going to die - no doubt by a demon.

To think you survived this long - survived the massacre your mother and brother endured - just to die now on your own.

A gust of wind surrounds you, so rough that you fall forward once more. The demon's teeth are no longer on you and you take note that the demon itself isn’t either. Your hand immediately goes to the wound onto your chest, blood seeping through. 

You blink your eyes hastily to see your surroundings.

The demon was horrendous - eyes dark as the night and skin appearing as if it was burned off. He had horns coming from his forehead and on his lips was your blood. He licks them, eyebrows furrowing to the man in front of you.

You take note that the man is tall with white spiky hair that glows underneath the moonlight. His back is facing you and you cannot see his face, but he holds a large sword in his hands. His haori is white and appears to glow along with his hair.

“A Hashira, huh?” the Demon cackles. 

Your eyes widen at the demon's words. 

“H-Hashira…” you murmur, eyes glued to the tall man before you. You head of the demon slayers and the Hashira, but never would you have imagined being in the presence of one.

“Don’t just fucking stand there!” the Hashira barks, head turning slightly to the side. You follow his gaze to see a group of boys, all sporting black uniforms and holding their own swords. They are frozen behind a bush and all jump at the Hashira’s sudden bark. “Take the girl to Kocho!”

“Y-Yes, Shinazugawa-sama!” the group - 4 - of demon slayers say in unison. You witness them scurry off to you while the Hashira begins his battle with the Demon.

“You’re losing a lot of blood, miss.” one demon slayers moans sadly as he attempts to touch your wound. “C-Can you apply pressure to it while we get you to Shinobu-sama?”

You nod your head, but you feel dizzy suddenly. Maybe you had lost a decent amount of blood.

“Oh no.” another demon slayer quips. “She’s passing out. We have to leave now.”

Your eyes shot open, your shoulder being roughly shoved. You looked around your surroundings.

“Y/N.”

Your head snaps to the side, eyes widening. 

“Onii-san…” your voice is high pitched and childlike. Your eyes drift to your lower appearance and child-like hands. 

You then roam your eyes around the bedroom - the one you shared with your elder brother. It’s bright - the morning sun shining through the windows.

“W-what-”

“You overslept.” your brother flicks your forehead, an act you always hated but you could do nothing savor his touch.

Was this a dream?

Was this heaven? Had you succumbed to your wounds and died?

“Y/N…why are you crying?” your brother's voice is startled, wondering if he had flicked you too hard this time. He yelps when you crush your face into his yukata and continue to cry, tiny hands clutching onto him for dear life. “What’s wrong?”

“I…had a bad dream, Onii-san.” you sniffled after a few moments of your crying. 

Your brother’s eyes soften and he places a hand on the top of your head. “Baby.” he murmurs softly to you. “Go wash up and then meet me outside. I have something I want to show you.”

You do as you’re told, far too excited to see your brother again.

As your feet slap against the cold hardwood floor, your heart is pumping again to be reunited with your family. 

Your hands reach the shoji doors, ready to open it, the shining sun from inside your bedroom suddenly disappears and all that you are left with is the familiar shining moon light.

“Y/N, don’t-” your brother screams - he appears to be far away, so distant that you ponder if he’s in the same room as you.

What’s going on? The door slams open and your eyes widen. The tall monster - you remember now. Tentacles sway around him. His skin was a disgusting green and his claws clenched onto your mother’s kimono. She’s lifeless, covered in blood. 

A tentacle reaches out to swipe at you, but your brother flings himself in front of you - but he’s nothing but a child such as you. He slams into the nearest wall, body just as lifeless as your mothers. Blood pools from his wounds and you can do nothing but scream at the sight.

You release a sudden scream, thrashing at the hands gripping onto you. “No!” you choke out a whimper.

“Calm down.” the voice says - stern but sweet. “You’re alright.”

You’re alright.

Your eyes manage to blink until they focus on where you were at. You’re on a bed foreign to you surrounded by several other beds that are vacant. The room is quiet except for a few people surrounding you, your eyes recognizing a few of the demon slayers you encountered. 

That was not a dream - you being attacked by a demon was indeed real.

Seated beside you was a young girl with blue eyes with black pigtails. She has a stern look in her eyes as she stares at you. 

“My name’s Aoi.” she tells you. “You were having a nightmare.”

You nod your head slowly. That part was also correct. You cannot remember the last time you dreamt of the night your brother and mother had died - until now.

“Where am I?” you whisper out before coughing. Your throat was dry and raspy.

“Here,” Aoi leans beside you to grasp a glass of water from the bedside table. “drink this.”

You do as you’re told, mentally thanking her when the cool water hits your throat. 

“Are you alright?”

You notice it's a demon slayer - a young man who’s eyes appeared to be glossy. “You passed out on the way here.”

You nod your head once more. “Thank you for bringing me.” you tell them and they each nod back, faces red. “If I may ask…where is the Hashira that saved me?”

Aoi sits straighter onto your bed, but the way her eyes roll does not go unnoticed. “Go get Shinazugawa.” she tells the slayers who all freeze at her command. “Now.”

The three slayers scurry off but appeared to be in no rush. Aoi turns back to you. “Just a warning.” she begins. “Shinazugawa isn’t…the nicest.”

You tilt your head. 

“He can be a little…rash.” Aoi shrugs her shoulders. “Are you in any pain? I managed to stitch up your wounds.”

You shake your head. “No. Thank you.” you bow your head. “You are a nurse? You look so young.”

Aoi’s face reddens. 

“I’m sorry. I meant no harm.” you attempted to apologize, unsure if you offended her or not. 

“It’s alright.” Aoi stands. “I do help around the butterfly estate more often while Shinobu-san is busy.” she explains. 

The door slams open and frightens the both of you. Aoi’s eyes darted to the noise and her eyes turned to slits. “You don’t have to be so abrasive, Shinazugawa-san.” she hisses. “I’m going to get you something to eat.” she says without as much of a look your way.

Shinazugawa only scoffs as the young girl pushes past him, closing the door behind her slightly. You noticed by his demeanor as to why the slayers were reluctant in calling for him - you guessed people walked on eggshells around the man.

Your heart flutters when his eyes meet yours.

The man is covered in scars, you note, and the amount is alarming. You assume it was due to him being a Hashira and his time in battle with demons.

“You look scared shitless.” Shinazugawa’s voice startles you.

Your body heats at the fact that you were staring. Your eyes dart away and you bow your head. “I’m sorry!” you quip. “I-I just wanted to thank you. For saving me.”

You note that he doesn’t say anything. Your eyes darted forward to see that he was now directly in front of you. Your heart skips a beat - Hashira’s were stealthy. 

“Why were you outside alone?” Shinazugawa questions. “Surely you know that demons exist.”

You gulp. He was correct. You did know and yet, you still left without a care in the world of your fate. “I…”

The Hashira waits for your response.

“I didn’t want to be home.”

The Hashira doesn’t make a sound for a moment. He studies your face before responding. “You left in the middle of the night in nothing but a kimono…because you didn’t want to be home?” his voice is deep and condescending. “You could have encountered far more harm besides a demon.” he spats. 

Your hands clench onto the bed sheets you were under.

“Why didn’t you want to be home? Your husband refused to buy you something?”

Your eyes widen. He was mocking you, surely. 

“That kimono is expensive no doubt. You must come from money.”The Hashira spats before shaking his head. “Just tell me where I need to bring you-”

“I’m not going back.” 

Shinazugawa’s eyes widened at your interruption.

“I do not come from money, either. The Kimono is a gift from the man my father sold me off to marry.” your tone matches his now. You wanted nothing more than to thank the man, not be judged about your decision to leave your home.

Sanemi is quiet, unsure of what to say. You shut him up, surely. He could only judge you by what you looked like - your hair wasn’t a mess when he found you and you wore a kimono crafted from the best materials. It wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t going to apologize for it, either.

“So your father is broke.” Sanemi states.

“No.” you scoff. “He just doesn’t want me around him anymore. I should be honored to be married off to someone his age.” You say sarcastically. You do not realize you’re clenching the bed sheets until you release them, witnessing how wrinkled they become. “Sometimes I even think he wishes it was me that died by that demon instead of my brother.”

Sanemi’s ears perk, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

“He was sure to tell me each time he was drunk that he only wanted a son. It was my mother that wanted to have another child in hopes of a daughter.” you laugh low to yourself. You’re talking to yourself more than you are to the Hashira. “To think he lost his prized child and wife.”

Now Sanemi was feeling guilty, even if he wasn’t going to show it or apologize. It appears you had a shitty life with your father and he can only think of back many moons ago of his own disappointment of a father. 

“Sorry.” you murmur to the Hashira. “Got carried away.” you straightened yourself to look at him once more. “Thank you again. I know slaying demons is your job, but you could have left me there. I am forever grateful.”

Sanemi doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. His neck is hot and so are his ears. If he would look at his reflection, he’d see that his face is red. “Don’t thank me.” he murmurs with a gulp. “Where are you planning to go?”

You’re unsure of the answer yourself. There was nowhere for you to go. You had no relatives and going back to your father now was possibly the worst decision to do - you’re positive his wrath would be hellish. 

“A few years ago at the age of 15,” you began. “My father said that I could always be a prostitute and maybe work my way up to be an Oiran.” you begin to laugh and Sanemi couldn’t believe his ears. Were you seriously laughing at the harsh words spewed at you by your father? “He was drunk and upset.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Sanemi states. 

You sigh, smile from your laughter still on your lips. “He was.” you agree. “I cannot hate him for it. To answer your question, Shinazugawa-san-”

“Sanemi.”

You furrow a brow at the Hashira. 

“I’m not one for honorifics.” 

You nod your head. “Sanemi.” you hum. “I’m not sure where I am planning on going. However, I’m sure wherever that is it will be better than my fate chosen by my father.”

Sanemi grunts. You appear to be courageous in a way, not caring what the world dropped at your feet as long as it wasn’t anything worse than your chosen fate.  

“Why not become a demon slayer?”

You giggle. “I don’t even know how to throw a punch, Sanemi.” your eyelashes bash at him and again, he feels hot. “I would be useless.”

“You can always train.” Sanemi suggests. 

You hum. “I suppose you’re correct. But I don’t know anyone willing to train me.”

A knock sounds on the door before it slides open. Aoi walks through with a tray, a plate of soup placed on it. 

“This should be light on your stomach.” Aoi tells you once she places the tray on the bedside table. “Shinazugawa-san, would you like anything?” she says to him through gritted teeth. She was only being polite and didn’t wish to hand him anything.

“No.” is all Sanemi responds with and Aoi only shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a half an hour to check in on you.” Aoi says and retreats once more. 

Your stomach churns at the aroma of the soup. You’re unsure how long it’s been since you ate and you were starving. You grasp the tray and do not hesitate to dig in. 

“I can train you.”

Sanemi only stands and watches the first ten minutes of you eating silently before he does speak. It catches you by surprise.

“Oh?”

“Would you rather be a prostitute?” Sanemi spats harshly. “Having different types of men on top of you at that. For that you could’ve married the man who paid your father.”

You aren’t fazed by his tone nor his words, your father has trained you for this since you were a child - bellowing insults after insults.

Your lips twitch. 

“I wouldn’t mind it if they were as handsome as you.” you tease the Hashira and now he’s taken aback, face fully flushed and his fists clenched. You giggle to yourself. “Just kidding, Sanemi. I wouldn’t be a good prostitute, either. I have no experience.” you take another sip of your soup and all Sanemi could think of was your last words.. “I would be honored to train with you.”

Sanemi gives you one last look before turning away. “I’ll talk to Kocho about you being released.. Until then, rest up.”

Sanemi slides the shoji doors open and walks out, not turning to look back at you. 

“Well,” Sanemi speaks. “come at me.”

You do, hands raising the wooden sword in your hand. You’re trembling as you run towards him and Sanemi wants to laugh at the way you look. He does nothing but step to the side and watch as you fall onto your face.

“That was pathetic.”

You gulp. “I know.”

“Get up.” Sanemi demands. “You’re entirely too slow.”

You were released the following day and like promised, Sanemi had returned. He doesn’t say anything but motions you to follow him to his home - a large estate not far from the one you just came from. You were given a change of clothes - a black uniform-like bodysuit that fit you slightly loose. You were surprised to receive the haori that matched the one Sanemi wore, you even beamed and stated that you fit the aesthetic to be trained under him - he only grunted a response. 

Sanemi wasted no time in jumping into training. He gave you a wooden sword and gave you little instructions on what to do. 

“For fucks sake!” Sanemi hissed after he watched you run - if you can call it that - towards one end of his training compound to the other. “Have you ever run a day in your life?!”

You pout. “Not since my brother died. That was nearly a decade ago.”

Sanemi groans. He wasn’t sure what he expected training you. This is why he never had the desire to train anyone and why he doesn’t have a tsuguko. 

“You’ll need to gain stamina.” Sanemi groans. He was sure you would need that before he even teaches you about total concentration. 

You groan along with Sanemi. 

“I know just the person.”

You follow Sanemi as he leaves his estate, but he doesn’t bother to wait for you. He’s a few feet ahead of you now and you’re trying with all your will to not be left behind. 

You reach another estate, your legs burned with the amount of walking. Sanemi reaches the shoji doors and knocks a few times, impatiently tapping his foot against the wooden floors.

“Shinazugawa!” the door slams open, startling you. A large man makes his way out from behind the door and your eyes widen at the height.

“Uzui.”

Uzui is tall, you note, and beautiful. His eyes are a beautiful color of fuchsia and his hair is just as white as Sanemi’s. He offers a dazzling smile before turning to you. 

“My,” Uzui hums. “Who is this woman with you?” The man's eyes inspect you for a moment. He even goes as far as to walk around to give you a once over. His arm reaches out quickly and before you can react, the palm of his hand - rather large - slaps your butt. “She has child bearing hips. Very breedable.”

You yelp, completely taken aback by his bold statement plus the rough slap upon your ass. All Sanemi could do was hiss at the older man. 

“Stop being a fucking creep!” Sanemi roars, hands clenched into fists.

Uzui only chuckles, painted nails pointing at Sanemi’s angered expression. “Do you want me to slap yours too?”

Sanemi isn’t amused in the slightest with Uzui’s humor and takes a step forward. The tall man erupts in laughter, raising his hands. 

“It’s about time you found yourself a wife, Shinazugawa.” Uzui’s eyes flashes to you for a moment before darting back to Sanemi. “Someone that can calm you down when needed.” Uzui wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, a knowing smirk forming onto his lips.

Sanemi scowls deeper, tips of his ears red. Tengen, being older than him, always had an immature side to him, always joking around at the wrong time - especially with his sexual humor. Surprisingly, it was tame. 

“I’m training her.” Sanemi hisses through gritted teeth. “She needs to work on her stamina.”

Tengen raises a brow. “So this is not your wife?”

Sanemi wants to reply with a snide remark, but refrains. 

“You always said you never wanted a tsuguko. What changed?” Tengen asks. Sanemi is a stubborn person. A few slayers - those who weren’t as cowardly - asked to be his tsuguko and he had rejected them harshly, what made you different?

Sanemi doesn’t respond, but Tengen believes he doesn’t have to. You appeared weak, not an insult in the slightest. A regular civilian and not a fighter at all. You could have dodged his slap onto your ass if you were at least a slayer.

Maybe Sanemi was but a man. You weren’t bad to look at - cute face, nice body and even nicer assets. Your breast could surely feed to satiate  any child Sanemi could put into you no doubt. 

“Stamina assistance, huh?” Tengen hums. “Have you tried sex?”

Your body feels hot once more. Uzui was the obvious joker of the two.

“Uzui-”

“So unflashy.” Tengen rolls his eyes. Sanemi was never any fun. “By the looks of it, she doesn’t run a lot.”

Did he call you fat? Unhealthy?

“I can change that in a week.” Uzui smirks at Sanemi. “Imagine going from a regular civilian to training with Hashira without even passing final selection first? You’ve been blessed by a God - me.”

You find Uzui’s personality funny - when he wasn’t spewing sexual nonsense for shock value.

“You are a Hashira, as well?” you ask Uzui and he nods.

“Sound Hashira, Uzui Tengen.” the smirk that forms onto his lips is one of vain. “Leave her to me, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi scoffs. “I’ll stay.” he insists. You didn’t know Uzui. Though he had three wives of his own, Uzui was not one to not flirt. He was a touchy person and to the wrong people, it could come off as harassment. 

Uzui pushes past the two of you and back into his home. He slides the shoji door open wider for the two of you to enter. “I'm not going to steal your girl.” he snickers. “Though I’m not opposed to having a fourth wife. You would fit right in-”

Sanemi shoves Tengen who then chuckles at the wind Hashira’s reaction.

There were only a few instances in your life where you’d thought you’d die. When you were a child and witnessed the monster - you soon learned was a demon - was the first. Again when you meet the wind Hashira facing another demon, you were certain you’d die.

Now, as you run until the point of your legs aching, you’re sure that you can see your life flashing before your eyes. Tengen was serious when he stated he’d whip you into shape to improve your stamina. It took everything in you to not cry due to stress - Uzui was a tough one. He’d scream and yell at you to keep going, that it was unflashy for you to be heavily breathing and sweaty only after running around his estate 3 times.

You were utterly defeated when Uzui finally gave you a break. Your knees fall to the ground and you wish nothing more than to curl up and die. Every morning the past 2 weeks you’d wake, have a quick breakfast with Sanemi where both of you are in a comfortable silence and then you'd go out for the hellish stamina training.

“You must be exhausted.”

You’re unsure how long you managed to lay onto the ground, but when your eyes flutter open you note that the sun is beginning to set. 

“Here, have some water.” the voice belongs to Suma, a wife of Tengen. She kneels down beside you with a warm smile and hands you a glass filled with water. “Lord Tengen sure has been determined lately.”

You gulp down the glass of water effortlessly in three large gulps. “Thank you!” you wheeze. 

Suma giggles.

“How determined is Lord Tengen?” you ask her.

Suma tilts her head slightly. “He believes you are done with the first half of your training!”

Your eyes widen and now your energy - though tired - matches Suma’s. You clap your hands together and laugh.

“You can move on to combat now!” Suma exclaims.

Your head tilts. “Combat…?”

“You didn’t think all you’d be doing is running?”

You yelp at the sound of Uzui’s voice. You never got accustomed to his sudden arrivals - but he assured you many times that not only was he a Hashira or a God - but was also a former shinobi. You never questioned him or his over dramatic self-proclamations. 

“No…?”

Uzui doesn’t say anything behind you. You take note that he was dressed down in a nemaki, a bright blue one with black stripes and his hair surrounds his shoulders. Your eyes widen slightly in awe - he was so majestically beautiful. 

Uzui kneels down to where you sat just as Suma rises. His lips form a small grin. 

“You are doing good.” Uzui compliments with a slight pat of your head. “You’ll be done with your training in due time.”

Your eyes widen, face feeling warm. You nod your head curtly. “Thank you, Lord Uzui!” you’re unsure why your cheeks feel wet until you feel a calloused finger wipe at your cheek. You were crying - in joy, of course. You’re unsure why; maybe because you’re not in the same place you were at when you came with Sanemi. You were (slowly) growing into a better person and the feelings are overwhelming.

“Ahh, don’t cry!” Suma sniffles with a shake of her head. “You’re going to make me cry!”

Suma drops and wraps you in a tight hug. “Please join us at the Onsen! You’ve been working so hard you should relax!”

Uzui watches as you and Suma scurry off - you with a slight limp - off towards his home. He shakes his head and ponders just how you managed to get caught up with someone such as Sanemi - yet it wasn’t his place to ask questions.

Your back hits the stone rock at the onsen, head tilted to the side as you sigh deeply. Your body now felt relaxed due to the hot water of the onsen. Suma had brought you into the home for dinner and before the hot springs, you were allowed to shower off the day's work and even borrowed a nemaki from Suma. 

You can hear Uzui’s loud voice followed by the soft ones of Makio and Hinatsuru. You had to admit that once you found out about his three wives, you were shocked. Yet, it made sense. There was no doubt Uzui was an extremely attractive man with an insane sex appeal - not only that but also a Hashira. His wives were kind women who matched Uzui’s attractiveness and sex appeal - flashy, as he would say. They often ask you to stay for dinner once training was done or offer you water while Uzui insisted you run “one more lap” which turned to 10 more laps.

“How does your body feel, Y/N?”

You flinched, eyes snapping open. You were dozing off. 

“Ah,” you smile at Suma. “alright. So much better than before.”

Suma nods her head. “I’m glad. You’ve been working so hard!”

Your face feels hot.

“Y/N!” Uzui’s boisterous voice booms through your ears. “You’re looking as flashy as ever! A different look from the sweat that you’re usually covered in.”

Uzui was teasing you.

“Lord Tengen says you’ll be training with us tomorrow.” Makio says. She’s leaning against Uzui’s right while Hinatsuru occupies his left. 

“Ah, yes.” you nod. “Combat training, right?”

Hinatsuru nods.

“I’m not much of a fighter.” your face grows hot once more. You’re embarrassed to be in the presence of kunoichi and a Hashira - three good fighters and a swordsman. 

“Neither am I!” Suma wraps you into a hug once more, bare breast against your own. You yelp, flushing deeply, but you know Suma means no harm. 

Uzui watches Suma and you closely, both of you giggling amongst one another. Soon Makio and Hinatsuru enter the conversation and leave his side.Uzui finds himself watching fondly on just how welcomed you became with his wives. How in the world did someone like Shinazugawa enter your life - Uzui was unsure. However, whatever the man's intentions were (outside of training you) he hoped they were pure.

A month had passed and Sanemi was beginning to think you lived at Uzui’s home. You’d usually come at the end of each day to bathe, eat dinner with him and then head to bed. Now, he found himself eating alone and your bedroom being empty. 

Of course, Sanemi was not fazed by this. You were doing what you were told, after all. By what Uzui has told him about your progress, you were doing good. His wives enjoyed your company as you did theirs.

However, what Sanemi was not expecting was your change in attire. He accepted the invitation for Uzui to watch you train with low ranking demon slayers. You were dressed similar to his wives, short, sleeveless dress with white bandages wrapping around your thighs. His eyes find themselves  landing on your breast and he coughs.

“She looks different.” Sanemi says aloud besides Tengen, who snorts at the man's observation.

“She looks flashy now.” Tengen declares.”Truly a work of art.”

The necklace you wore around your neck also didn’t go unnoticed. It was large and gold and also covered in shining diamonds and other unnamed stones he couldn’t bother to mesmerize. If Sanemi didn’t know who you were, he would assume you were also a part of Uzui’s haram.

“You were instructed to train her in stamina. Not play dress up.”

Tengen rolls his eyes at the sound of Sanemi’s voice.

“Look at her now.” Tengen points a manicured finger at you, but Sanemi is already watching. 

Sanemi supposed you were better now. You ran without appearing to be seconds away from dying, nor were you as slow as you were nearly two months ago. He had watched slightly impressed that you managed to keep your own up against the low ranks - impressive seeing as you were not yet a slayer. 

“What are your intentions with her?”

Sanemi’s eyes don't leave you as he ponders on Uzui’s question. 

“Surely she’s more than a tsuguko.”

Sanemi makes an annoyed grunt.

“She lives in your home when you wouldn’t even allow others.” Uzui doesn’t want to mention Genya to not upset the younger man. But, it’s obvious that is who he is speaking of. It causes Sanemi’s fist to instantly clench.

“She had nowhere else to go.” Sanemi began.

Uzui furrows a brow. 

“She joked about becoming a prostitute.”

Uzui chuckles. “Virgin’s can be sold for high.”

Sanemi’s head snapped to eye the white haired man. Just how did he know that you were a virgin?

“She speaks of you fondly.” Uzui says after another few moments of silence. “Hina swears she has a crush. How unflashy of her to have one on someone like you.”

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?!” Sanemi roars.

Your attack at the slayer stops upon hearing the scream. Your body turns behind you, witnessing a laughing Uzui and a fuming Sanemi. Your eyes widen, not expecting to see him. You had focused all of your time on training that you would often stay at Uzui’s estate.

“Shinazugawa-sama is here.” one slayer moans in despair. “I should hide.”

“What for?” asks another slayer.

“I accidentally bumped into him yesterday and he threatened to castrate me!” the slayers voice drops a few octovals. 

“Sanemi!” you begin to wave, dropping your kunai and begin to sprint towards the man. 

“Did she just call Shinazugawa-sama by his name?” one slayer gasps, fearing for your life. 

“Is that his girlfriend?”

“No way, no way no way!” another slayer falls to the ground. “There’s no way someone cute and sweet like Y/N-chan is dating that psycho!” he shakes his head.

You reach Sanemi and Uzui in a matter of seconds - it causes Sanemi to take a step back, but he keeps his face cool and unbothered. Your hands take his calloused ones and you’re excited for him to see the progress you made. Gasps could be heard from the slayers behind you, and besides Sanemi, Uzui is humming with a shit eating grin.

“They do say opposites attract.” a female slayer murmurs.

“Is…Shinazugawa-sama blushing?”

Sanemi’s ear twitched. His head snaps behind you, hands still in your smaller (and softer) hands. “What the fuck are you waste of space doing?!” he barks at the slayers who all cower. The veins on his neck are pulsing as he screams. “Get out of my sight!” the slayers bow, sending Uzui their farewell before running out of the estate, not looking back now fearing their own safety and well-being. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask. “Did you see me sparring with one of the slayers? Do you think I got better? Faster? Stronger?” you’re overly excited, so much so that you’re slightly bouncing with excitement. Sanemi’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker to your breast to the hopeful look of your eyes. 

Uzui watches with a look of amusement. The tips of Sanemi’s ears are red and he wants to tell a perverted joke, but he understands now is not the time.

You reminded him of Suma often. You wanted to be praised - to be told you did a good job and that he was proud of you. But, Sanemi didn’t believe in praise. He was an abrasive person and reveled in such abrasiveness. He’s watched countless times as Sanemi verbally (and physically) abused slayers - even the Hashira wasn’t safe from his wrath.

“Y-Yeah.” is all Sanemi said and now Uzui’s head is spinning. 

Did Shinazugawa Sanemi stutter?

Was the Shinazuawa Sanemi flustered?

A knowing smirk forms on the older man's lips and now he’s pondering on all the ways he could bring up this moment to never let the wind Hashira live this down.

“Don’t say shit to me.” Sanemi hisses to Uzui when you sprint away, declaring that you were going to gather your belongings before leaving Uzui’s estate with him. 

Tengen cackles loudly.

“I haven’t been to Asakusa in years.” you say to Sanemi. “Do you frequent here on your missions?” Sanemi nods, tying his yukata to hide his sword. “Similar to today. A few of us are patrolling the grounds to assure there aren't any demon attacks tonight.”

There was a festival today, after all. Sumidagawa firework festivals were one of your favorites to witness. You recall being on your fathers shoulders as you watch the colorful firework display. That was many moons ago, and now as Sanemi and you stroll through the streets of Asakusa, you are feeling nostalgic. 

“Do you think a demon will attack tonight?” you asked Sanemi. You hoped they didn’t - the sight of innocent families and couples litter the streets of Asakusa and that would ultimately be ruined by such demonic attacks. 

“Possibly not out in the open, no.” Sanemi responds. “But we can’t be off our guard, either. We have slayers to assure no one wanders away from the main road.” Sanemi recalls the story of Tanjiro coming face to face with Muzan right in Asakusa - he’s certain that Muzan would allow himself not to be shown again.

Your head lowers slightly. 

“The fireworks should be starting soon.” Sanemi notes. “I’m going to patrol the south of Asakusa. Stay here, I’ll be back shortly.” he stops walking to face you and you slowly nod your head. “Something on your mind?”

You shake your head, not wanting to bother Sanemi with your useless thoughts.

Sanemi doesn’t say another word before turning away. Your eyes follow his figure until he fades into the crowd and only then did you bother to look up into the dark sky at the fireworks beginning. All you could think about was watching the fireworks with him. 

“Where’s your girl?” asked Uzui as Sanemi strolls past. “I got eyes on the south of Asakusa.”

Sanemi scowls. “I’ll go east.”

“East is taken by Iguro and Kanroji.” Uzui furrows a brow. “I spotted Tomioka and Kocho going west not too long ago.”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. 

“There won’t be any attacks tonight.” Uzui is certain. “Not with this many hashira present.”

Uzui scours the crowd around him. “Don’t tell me you left your girl all alone?”

Sanemi’s eyes glare at Uzui, but the taller man isn’t fazed.

Uzui crosses his arms. “To think she got all dressed up….” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have left such a flashy beauty-”

“Shut up!” Sanemi hisses and now he’s heading back north where he told you to remain.

Uzui hums. He enjoys teasing Shinazugawa until his eyes are even more crazed and his cheeks are a dusty crimson color. It only affects him when he mentions you - so much so now that Sanemi would rather flee the scene than to fight him like he’d usually do.

Sanemi slows his pace when he reaches closer to you. He takes in the sight of you - kimono wrapped tightly around your frame.It was black and silk and he notes the stitching of pink sakura leaves.

The light of the fireworks are illuminating upon your skin, casting down a colorful hue. There’s a faint grin upon your lips - covered in gloss, it does not go unnoticed by him. 

You do not notice Sanemi until he’s right next to you. You turn to smile at him but don’t manage to. “Is…everything okay?”

Sanemi doesn’t respond and now you’re worried. “Sanemi-”

“Are you having fun?”

You’re taken aback by his question. “Yes.” you tell him. “It’s so beautiful!”

Your eyes turn back to the firework display in the sky, but Sanemi’s eyes remain on you. Beautiful.

You were beautiful.

Sanemi’s heart jumps at the sight of you - was he sick? He was sure he was starting to feel ill. Maybe he’d have to visit Kocho when they met up later and see if she had any medication on hand. 

The firework display goes on for another half an hour until it’s done. The night sky is filled with smoke and the surrounding people are all chatting amongst themselves. Those with families are scurrying off with their fussy children. You recall when you were once a fussy child begging your parents to stay longer.

Meeting the rest of the Hashira wasn’t something you’d thought you’d do. Meeting two was an honor - but all? Your heart jumps at the sight before you. You had accompanied Sanemi to a dinner the Hashira were having to celebrate a successful night free of demons. 

Mitsuri was the first Hashira you were introduced to. She introduced herself mostly and then the rest of the Hashira to you in order in which they were seated - Iguro, Rengoku, Kocho, Tomioka, Himejima and Tokito. The sight of a young boy catches you off guard, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered with anything around him besides staring off into space.

Since you weren’t much of a drinker, you opted in eating more food with Mitsuri while those who did drink mingled with one another. 

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Uzui asks, lifting his own shot glass and takes a swig.

Sanemi wasn’t a drinker.

“Can’t handle it?” Tengen chuckles mockingly. “Fight all those demons just to be scared of a little alcohol?”

Sanemi’s hands grasp the glass from Uzui’s hand after he fills it with another shot. He down said alcohol effortlessly. 

“Well well,” Uzui cackles aloud. “Look at the big shot.”

As the night dragged further on, you noticed that most of the Hashira were beginning to bid their farewell. Shinobu and Giyu were the first to leave, Giyu suddenly standing and an annoyed Shinobu trailing after him. Gyomei and Muichiro followed soon after, the younger boy not saying a word while Gyomei wished everyone a good night. Obanai stood only when he noticed Mitsuri did so, bidding you a goodbye and claiming that she wished to see you soon. Kyojuro watches with amusement as Tengan and Sanemi appear to be in a fierce drinking battle, both men refusing to back down.

“Excuse me.” you announce lowly, standing from your cushioned spot.

Uzui’s eyes follow you to the restroom before turning back to a fuming Sanemi. A knowing smirk forms onto his lips and Kyojuro is sure that he was going to have to break up whatever fight would break out. 

“Y/N-chan is beautiful.” Tengen says, downing another shot. “Such a flashy kimono she’s wearing. Right, Kyo?”

Kyojuro’s head stirred with the question, but he nodded his head nonetheless. “Yes. Y/N-chan does look beautiful tonight!”

“I-”

“Shut up!” Sanemi doesn’t want to hear anything else Tengen has to say. 

“Such an un-flamboyant response.” Tengen shrugs. “I believe she smells nice, too. Like…lavender. Maybe Jasmine.”

Kyojuro watches the way Sanemi’s hands clench the shot glass as he chugs it down. 

“Why you smellin’ her?!” Sanemi hisses, eyes glaring daggers at the Sound Hashira. “Fucking pervert.” he murmurs to himself. 

Tengan enjoyed being an agent of chaos, so much so that he thought ahead of time. Just as you were returning to the table, Uzui stood. “We have an early start back to headquarters tomorrow,” he announces. “We should be going to bed.”

Kyojuro also stands and wraps an arm around Tengan.

“Oyakata-sama covered the rooms for us tonight.” Kyojuro says back to you and Sanemi. “Tomorrow we’ll be heading out, so please get enough rest!”

Sanemi doesn’t say a word, just stands. His body sways a little and you’re surprised to see him stumbling. “Are you alright, Sanemi?” you asked with caution. “You’re-”

“I’m fine.”

But Sanemi doesn’t appear fine. It takes another 20 minutes to get back to the inn that was provided for the Hashira and yourself. 

“Shinazugawa.” Sanemi grumbles to the owner. 

“That room was taken about 10 minutes ago.” the worker hums. “The only room we have left is for…Uzui Tengen.”

Sanemi’s fist clench and he bangs it against the counter. The owner yelps, eyes widening and he’s flinching away from the man. “That fucker took my room!”

“S-Sanemi!” you place your hands onto his bicep, attempting to stop his assault on the counter. “Let’s just takes Uzui’s room. It can’t be that bad.”

Sanemi’s skin is burning under your touch, but he doesn’t push your hands away.

It was bad, Sanemi knows it. Oyakata-sama knows of you and your situation and before Sanemi heads out for Asakusa with you, Oyakata assured that there will be two beds for you and Sanemi.

However, Tengen had planned this. He left in a hurry so he could get Sanemi’s room where one bed would be free while you and he took Uzui’s room - one king size bed sitting right in the middle of the room. 

“I should bang that door down.” Sanemi grumbles lowly to himself, slamming the door shut behind him. “Drag his ass out of my room…castrate him while I got the chance and-”

“You can have the bed, Sanemi.”

Sanemi’s grumblings halt once he hears your voice. 

“You’re a Hashira, after all.” your voice is soft and sweet, it does something to his heart once more. Sanemi has to see Kocho tomorrow morning for sure now. 

Sanemi shakes his head, but soon regrets it. He was becoming dizzy and now he sits upon said bed. “I…you can take the bed.”

“Hm,” you hum. “We can share the bed. You can take the right and me the left.” you suggest and now Sanemi feels claustrophobic. He’s never shared a bed with a woman - not even the ones he was intimate with. They were nothing but stress relievers, after all. 

But, Sanemi doesn’t deny. He loosens his yukata and falls onto the mountain of pillows. His eyes close and now you’re giggling to yourself. He was asleep already, the drinking fest (or competition) with Uzui took a toll on him.

You dim the lights and make your way around to your side of the bed. You, too, loosen your kimono and allow yourself underneath the covers. You cover Sanemi, who stirs slightly but doesn’t say anything. 

Just as you feel yourself dozing off of consciousness, Sanemi’s voice catches your ear. 

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” you turn your body around to face him. The window sat open across from the bed and the moon shines right through the window and onto Sanemi’s face.

“You smell nice.” Sanemi murmurs, swallowing thickly. His mind is swirling with the amount of alcohol in his system. “Like…lavender…and jasmine…” he inhales, nostrils blaring to catch your scent.

Your cheeks are hot at his compliment. Unknowingly, you scoot closer to him.

Sanemi allows his eyes to close for a mere second before opening them once more.

“Y/N.” he calls you again and now he’s slowly rising.

“Yes, San-”

Sanemi erupts in a fit of coughs. You rise from your position from the bed and come closer to help. “Do you need to throw up?” you asked with wide eyes.

Sanemi shakes his head. His coughing stopped but he can feel your hand upon his back, gently rubbing,

“You’re beautiful.” Sanemi murmurs so low that it’s inaudible to you.

“What, Sanemi?” you come closer attempting to hear his words and Sanemi feels even more intoxicated with your scent.

Sanemi is strong. Within a few seconds you’re beneath him in a tight embrace.His actions catch you off guard, but yet you do not feel frightened by his sudden action. Lilac eyes stared into your wide ones.

“Are you afraid of me?” Sanemi’s words are slurred.

You should be scared of him, he tells himself. He was a man that could hurt you - take advantage of you. How easily it was for him to do so even intoxicated proves that you would be frightened-

“No.”

Sanemi freezes. No?

“I don’t believe you’ll hurt me intentionally.” you continue.

Sanemi is stiff, your words replaying in his mind. You weren’t frightened of him - not of his appearance, not of his personality or demeanor. 

Sanemi again feels the jump in his heart, reaching all the way down to his stomach to his abdomen. If he didn’t find a cure to whatever upcoming sickness he had, he’d surely fall out. 

Sanemi buries his face into your breast - that had slightly spilled out when he embraced you suddenly. You do not move, unsure of what to do. Sanemi slowly rubs his face against your breast and when he’s done, he lays his head against them and releases a sigh.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.” he murmurs just when his eyes feel heavy. “I think I’m sick.”

Sanemi felt warm all over, but he didn’t appear to be sick. His face is flushed and you’ve already concluded that it was the alcohol taking over. 

“My heart…jumps when I’m with you. I think I’m dying.” he murmurs again. Your breathing hitches. “I can’t die…can’t leave Genya…” Sanemi’s babbling now and he doesn’t stop, not until his words become low gibberish and you note that his breathing evens out.

Your eyes snap open, body jolting awake. The sun was rising, the reddish hue shining through your window. Your body was now feeling as though you were being squeezed to death. 

You were - being squeezed that was - by Sanemi. His eyes are snapped shut but you can hear the faint sounds of whimpering coming from his lips.

“Sanemi…?” you murmur, managing to get your arm out from his embrace. He was still asleep, you took note that he must be having a nightmare. 

Your hand gently touches his hair, the white tresses feeling oddly soft at the touch. You recall the many times your older brother had comforted you from your own nightmares - gently rubbing your head and offering a soft hum.

The sight was truly something else. You would often accompany Sanemi when he was training other slayers (whenever he had the time) and harsh was an understatement. He was verbally abusive towards them, hurling out insults after insults. He’d beat them until they were a sobbing, puking mess - and that was just the light work. 

His job as a Hashira left him oftentimes returning to his estate with new scars that you’d tend to - even if you insisted Aoi or anyone else at the butterfly mansion would be better suited.

A nightmare didn’t appear to be something someone like Sanemi dealt with - but having to risk your life fighting demons on the daily possibly took a toll on him. You never spoke with Sanemi about his own past or family - who was Genya? How and why did he become a part of the Corps? You felt like he knew so much of you and you didn’t know him at all.

You begin to hum softly while stroking Sanemi’s hair. Through time, Sanemi’s whimpering halted and his embrace became looser - yet you couldn’t leave it fully for he would just tighten it again. You remained stroking his hair until you yourself was dozing off, moments from losing consciousness.

Sanemi’s hums, his closed eyes twitching when an annoying light hit him. The sun was rising and the pounding in his head annoyed him to no end. He snuggles himself deeper into the pillows, inhaling the sweet scent…

Of lavender…and jasmine…maybe even vanilla?

Sanemi’s body stirs away before his eyes can open. He feels a movement below him.and only then did his head remove themselves from the soft pillows.

Just for them to not be pillows - but your breast.

The silk kimono you wore is clenched tightly into his hands - that had you locked in a tight embrace.

“Sanemi…” your voice is softer when you’re just waking. “...are you alright?”

Was he alright? How could you be thinking of him when you were being suffocated beneath him.

Sanemi lungs himself away from you as if you burned him. The loss of his warmth causes a shiver to run up your exposed skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Sanemi’s voice is deep and raspy - dry. His eyes are wide with shock.

Your face is warm by his words. “No. You just…passed out.” you giggle, unsure of what the man remembers or not. “...I couldn’t really move you myself.”

Sanemi inhales. “Why didn’t you…pull my hair or punch me?” he questions and now it’s your turn to give him wide eyes. 

“Why would I do that?” you respond. “You were drunk and tired. I don’t mind it.”

Sanemi scratches his hair and swallows. He shakes his head. He didn’t have time for this - not now. He was a normal man with normal needs, but the last thing he needed was his pants to tighten, especially at the sight of your exposed skin.

“You were having a nightmare.” you sit up against the large bed. “I hope you are feeling well now.”

The soft touches of his hair and the sweet humming wasn’t a part of his dreams then.

Sanemi inhales once more. 

“Maybe some tea would be good for you. Does your head hurt?”

Sanemi doesn’t get to respond before you’re getting up from the bed. 

“I’ll go get you some.” you murmur, making your way into the bathroom to freshen up before leaving out of the bedroom all together.

Sanemi makes it his mission to take a cold shower while you’re out - anything to get the release of his swelling cock to go down. The water shocks him, but it doesn’t do anything. He curses at himself for allowing Uzui - that fucking Uzui - to get him drunk. He was even more pissed at himself for falling for the bait - but not only that, but to get so out of his mind that he woke up…

Sanemi decides to grip his cock tightly. His boner was never going to go down unless he did something about it. He closes his eyes, trying to think of anything but you. His arms begin to jerk and now he’s erratically pumping his cock. His closed eyes begin to think of the many women he’s been with in the past, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. He swears he can smell your scent surrounding him at this moment. He thinks of how soft your skin is - especially your breast. It causes his breath to hitch at the thought of his hands being able to-

Sanemi cums hard - so hard he’s twitching. “Fuck.” he hisses to himself. He was utterly fucked.

“We’ll be heading out soon!” Kyojuro says loudly to the surrounding demon slayers. “Please be prepared!”

The demon slayers all agree in unison. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Kyojuro’s boisterous voice echoes off of the wall as you enter the main room of the inn. “Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Rengoku-san.” you offer a small smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept great!” Kyojuro chuckles.

“How about you, Y/N? Did you and Shinazugawa sleep well?” Uzui asks, a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“Her and Shinazugawa?” one slayer murmurs.  

“The rumors are true?”

“Wait, what rumors?” “That Shinazugawa-sama has a girlfriend!”

“No way, that’s her?!” one slayer falls to his knees. “She’s so hot!”

“Yes, Uzui-san. We did.” you beam at him. “Your bed was quite large.”

“They slept in the same bed?!”

“How can she not be scared of that maniac?”

“I’m glad.” Uzui beams back. “Where is Shinazugawa?”

“Back in the room. I’ve come to make him some tea.” you respond. The inn provided breakfast, lunch and dinner that was complimentary. In the main room, various tea bags are displayed alongside a large tea kettle set on a low boiling temperature. 

“Did you wake with a headache, Uzui-san? I can get you some tea, as well.”

Uzui follows you to the tea kettle where you make Sanemi’s tea. “I woke up just fine.” Uzui says. “You do look like you got just the right amount of sleep. Your face looks so hydrated.” Tengen was hoping he’d walk into you and Sanemi was sweaty with bed hair and maybe even bruises - but he’s glad nonetheless that you still looked flashy.

“No way Shinazugawa-san deserves her!” a slayer hisses. “That white hair maniac-”

The slayer feels the wind being knocked out of him. He falls to the ground before he can even finish his sentence. 

Sanemi, eyes glaring deadly, pushes past the boy without a care. The room gets quiet and the slayers are far too frightened to even speak in front of the wind Hashira.

“Shinazugawa.” Uzui waves, but Sanemi’s looks can kill. “It looks like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” he jokes.

Sanemi wants to hurl insults - and punches - at the sound Hashira. He’s sporting a knowing smirk, eyes shining with mischief. Tengen knows what he’s done and he wants to rub it in the younger man's face. Sanemi was going to give him the reaction he was looking for. 

“Sanemi!”

Then Sanemi hears your voice from behind Tengan. His eyes lower to you holding a cup of tea in your hands. You inch closer to him with a warm smile that has his shoulder faltering from their once tense state.

Kyojuro furrows his brows and grins. 

Mitsuri watches from around the corner, her eyes widening and low to herself she’s giggling. “How cute!” she squeals and besides her, Obanai is leaning against the wall.

“I made you some tea for your headache.” you say to him, offering the tea to him. 

Sanemi takes it in his hands, nodding. “Thanks.” he murmurs to you, ear tips red. He was going to give Uzui the shit talking he deserved - after he drank the tea you prepared for him. 

You nod your head, content in watching him sip his tea.

“No way, how did she manage to relax him with tea?”

“Where did Shinazugawa-san find such a lovely girlfriend?”

Sanemi’s head slowly turned to the slayers behind him. He doesn’t have to say anything for them to scurry off.

“I hope it tastes good.”

Sanemi’s head snaps back in your direction. “It does.” he murmurs. 

“I’m glad.” you give him a smile and he nearly chokes on his tea.

Tengen snickers.

“First!”

You lift your sword - an extra one given to you by Sanemi - and dash your body forward as fast as you could and slash your sword in a round, cyclone pattern. You do so until Sanemi speaks again. 

“Third!”

Sanemi never did the forms in order. He stated that it was to keep you on your toes.

You swing your sword around just as Sanemi instructed you to once before. He stated this form was to protect yourself from incoming attacks.

“Second!”

You inhale, attempting to keep your breathing intact. You lift your sword upwards to the right and above your head. You release several vertical slashes at once.

“Stand down.”

You fall to your knees, breathing heavily. You were using pure will to keep going and to not disappoint Sanemi.Your head lifts to the sky, finding it to be late into the evening and soon the sun will be setting.

“That’s all for today.”

You’re covered in sweat. You wanted nothing more than a bath to release yourself from all the sweat and grime from training all day. 

“I’ll bathe then begin dinner.” you say to Sanemi and stand on your feet.

“No need.” Sanemi says. “I’ll have the servants-”

“I insist!” you declare. You enjoyed cooking for Sanemi - it was a way for you to show your thanks and gratitude for allowing you to stay with him for a year now. You’d watch what the servants of the corps would make for the two of you and learn from there of his likes and dislikes.

Sanemi doesn’t respond and you take your leave. Your bath isn’t long but it leaves you refreshed. You tie your kimono around you loosely and prepare yourself to cook. You’ve gathered a few vegetables the day prior and left them outside in the basket. You hum to yourself as you go and achieve them towards the back.

You face crashes into something hard and you’re falling backwards just as you open the shoji doors. You fall flat on your ass, your kimono slightly unraveling. “Ow…” you huff, going to tie the kimono back into place.

Your eyes catch dark olive green trousers from where you stand, different from what Sanemi usually wears. Your eyes lift to the person - a tall one at that - until they noticed a purple yukata. It indeed was not Sanemi.

You stand to your feet and huff. You had to lift your head to face the person - a boy with a scar on his face. Your eyes widen slightly - he appeared to look like Sanemi (the scars and eyes gave it away).

“You…” you begin, coming closer to the boy. “...are so cute.” you beam at him - it causes his face to fully turn red. “You look so much like Sanemi. You must be Genya!”

Genya’s face and overall body is hot at your words. He’s embarrassed. He wasn’t expecting to find a woman at his brother's home, yet he recalls the rumors around the corps of his brother having a girlfriend.

“I-I…” Genya takes a step back.

“You must be hungry.” you say and grasp his hands into your own. Genya now stands straighter when he feels your hands. “Come, please!”

Even if Asakusa was nearly a year ago, you recall Sanemi’s drunken words of not wishing to die because of a Genya - you never asked around about such a person. You wished to wait for Sanemi to bring up this person when he was ready, but he never did. 

You instructed Genya to sit at the table while you prepared the meal. He didn’t speak much while you cooked, but it was alright because you did most of the talking.

“Sanemi must still be bathing. He sure does enjoy that.” you ramble off as Genya sits completely still. “You sure are a big boy, Genya! So young and tall.” You ponder how tall your brother would be at his age in an alternate world where he didn’t die. 

Once dinner is done - beef sukiyaki - you place a bowl down for Genya, Sanemi and yourself. You smile at him. “Go on. Eat.”

“T-Thank you.” Genya’s voice is a mere whisper. He does as he’s told, enjoying the wonderful taste. He’s unsure if he should be here without Sanemi knowing first, but he doesn’t want to disrespect you as his girlfriend.

Footsteps could be heard against the wooden floors and Sanemi entered. He’s dressed casually outside of his regular uniform and his hair is wet. His eyes are soft when he enters and smells the food, but they harden once his eyes catch sight of Genya.

“Sanemi, dinner is-”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You’re taken aback by Sanemi’s tone. You can feel the tension radiating from both males - brothers. 

“Aniki, I-”

“Get out.” 

“Sanemi…” you stand to your feet as does Genya. You’re shocked by his harsh tone towards the younger boy. 

“You are not a brother of mine.” Sanemi spits. 

“Aniki. I only came to apologize-”

“Take your apology and leave.” Sanemi turns away, his appetite ruined. “You should leave the corps all together. You’re a weakling who cannot even use breaths. You’re going to die..”

Sanemi goes to walk away and your heart breaks at the harshness of his tone.

“Aniki-”

Sanemi strikes - you note - but you’re already interfering in his attack. You place yourself in front of Genya and push him away, your body shielding him from whatever attack Sanemi was attempting to do.

You do, however, feel hands on your back which you assume was supposed to be meant for Genya.

“Y/N!”

You fall in front of a stunned Genya. “Are you alright?” you ask the young boy who only nods. He’s convinced you were crazy to get in front of an attack from Sanemi - a Hashira at that.

 Your head turns back to Sanemi. His eyes are wide with shock.

“I can sense your intent was to truly hurt him.” you murmur to Sanemi, voice low and lace with…disappointment? The jump is happening in his heart again, Sanemi notes. It’s different now - it causes his muscles to tighten and his heart to ache. “I won’t allow you to do that.”

Genya gasps at your words.

“What he and I have is none of your concern.” Sanemi mumbles. The look you’re giving him is a look he’s never witnessed from you before. You never looked at him with such disdain - such disgust. 

“It may not be.” you say. You stand to your feet, offering Genya a hand that he hesitantly takes. “But I won’t allow you to attack your brother in my presence.”

You turn back to Genya and give a sad smile. You were at fault for inviting him into Sanemi’s home and later, you would apologize. You do not know what both brothers are dealing with and in due time, you wish to understand. As of now, you need to get Genya away.

“I can walk you back to your home.” you say to Genya.

Sanemi’s eyes follow you and Genya until you’re completely out of sight.

The walk was quiet and peaceful. The sun is setting and the cicadas are buzzing louder.

“I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

Genya is the first to speak.

“No trouble at all.” you smile his way. “I’m the one that should have not interfered.”

Genya gulps. Another ten minutes of silence falls before he stops in his tracks.

“I don’t want you to see Aniki in a different light.”

Your head tilts at Genya. His cheeks are a dusty red as he speaks.

“I know he tried to hurt me and all but it’s not his fault!  He…I’m the one who blamed him for killing our mother. He did it to protect me.”

Your blood runs cold at Genya’s words.

“If I would’ve known she was a demon then I…I wouldn’t have said those things to him…”

Genya falls to his knees, pain erupting through his chest. He hates to appear vulnerable in front of others, but he cannot bear his brother for hating him more if he lost you as a partner.

Genya feels hands in his hair and his body stiffens.

“It’s not your fault.” you say to him, gently rubbing his hair. “Sanemi doesn’t hate you, Genya.”

Genya’s head snaps up to look at you, eyes blurry.

“I sense no hatred from Sanemi.” you say to him, kneeling down to his level. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Genya nods hesitantly.

“He told me he wants to stay alive to protect you.” your voice is so low that it barely registers in Genya’s ear. “I know Sanemi loves you. He just…” your mind flashes to Sanemi’s attempt to attack Genya. “...has a hard time showing it.” you say. Sanemi will still be the same who held you so tight while he was drunk, claiming that you were beautiful and he needed to be alive for Genya.

Genya’s head hung. “Thank you, Y/N.” he says. “I can walk the rest of the way. Please talk to Aniki.”

You watch fondly as Genya stands and bows to you. He looked so much like Sanemi in his own way that it makes you simper at him.

You do as you’re told, following the path back to the Wind Hashira’s mansion. You find it silent, everything where you left it. 

Maybe he doesn’t wish to talk, you say to yourself. You decided to eat alone and head to bed, leaving Sanemi’s food on the table in case he’d want to eat it later.

Sanemi wasn’t a drinker.

Whenever Sanemi drank, it reminded him of his father. The man was nothing but a drunk who’d come home and often beat his children and wife - even if he didn’t need to be drunk to do so.

Sanemi recalls the many times in which he had fought his own father to ensure that his rampage didn’t go too far. He didn’t care what bruises, black eyes or cut lips were left behind as long as his siblings and mother were safe.

But Sanemi failed, he thinks. He couldn’t save his mother from turning into a demon.Hiroshi, Teiko, Sumi, Shuya, Koto…he couldn’t save any of them. Not even Genya, as pathetic as it was. Genya remains a part of the Corps and his life is threatened when he goes on missions - no matter how many times Sanemi tries to get him to leave, he doesn’t.

The sky is dark and starless when Sanemi returns home. His vision is hazy and his head is spinning. He can hear it, the sword hitting against the tatami mats. You were still awake instead of being asleep like you should be.

You slice against the tatami mats roughly and with ease, eyes focusing on them. 

You gave up on trying to sleep. The first hour consisted of you tossing and turning. You got up to check and see if Sanemi had arrived yet, and once finding his food cold and untouched, you decided to wait for him. You gave up on the third hour mark and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep that you’d mind as well be training. 

“Why are you awake?”

You’re startled by the sudden voice joining you. “S-Sanemi.”

Sanemi’s swaying slightly and his eyes are low. “Have you been drinking?” you ask, but you’re aware of the answer.

“Why…are you awake?” 

Sanemi’s words slur slightly. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” you respond. “Are you hungry? I-”

Sanemi unsheathes his sword and points it at you. 

You stop in your tracks. 

“Come at me.” Sanemi commands. 

You gulp. “No.”

“Come…at…me…” Sanemi says through gritted teeth. “I won’t ask you again, tsuguko.”

Your heart is pumping outside your chest. You’re trembling but you do as you’re told. 

Sanemi pushed himself to the side before you had the chance to connect your hit - even if that wasn’t what you wanted. “Weak. Try again.”

You inhale deeply. You swing your sword once more and again and again and again. With each swing of your sword, the Hashira easily dodged or parried your attack. 

“You think you’re going to go to Final Selection with skills like this?” Sanemi spats. His words are harsh and your mind is unsure why he’s like this. Was it the alcohol?

You swing your sword and just when you’re sure it would connect with his own sword, Sanemi dodges and the opposite side of his sword hits your side. It doesn’t slice you, of course, but it sends you tumbling. 

“Stand up.” Sanemi demands, inches away from you.

“I don’t want-”

“Stand up!” Sanemi suddenly roars. It echoes off of the trees of the night. “No demon will allow you grace!”

You drop your sword at his feet. You weren’t sparring with him any longer. He wasn’t in his right mind now. 

“I’m leaving-”

Sanemi’s hand, rough and calloused, cups your jaw tightly. It causes you to yelp and you’re caught off guard. He’s kneeling down in front of you with wild eyes. “No demon is going to allow you to walk away.” he spits. “Do you think that husband of yours would’ve allowed you to run away if you were with him?”

Your hands push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. 

“Do you think he would’ve stopped fucking you because you told him no?”

Sanemi only comes closer. His breath is thick with alcohol and for the first time, you question if he’d cause you any harm.

“Pick up your sword and fight me as if I’m a demon.” Sanemi’s grip on your jaw tightens. The sane part of him screams at him to stop - that he’s hurting you. “Fight me as if I’m the husband your father sold you to.”

You’re now punching at his chest to get him away from you, but Sanemi’s stronger. He’s solid. 

“If I allow you to go to Final Selection, you’re going to die.” Sanemi’s sane mind hates himself now for how he’s speaking to you, but the alcohol in his system is angered; at himself more than anything. 

Sanemi couldn’t save his mother or his siblings.

Sanemi couldn’t save Genya from joining the Demon Slayer Corps.

Sanemi couldn’t even save his friend - Masachika died alongside the demon they slain. 

Sanemi’s certain how his heart would crumble if you didn’t make it through Final Selection - that you would be another person he couldn’t save.

Sanemi’s words hurt to hear. Had he no faith in you? You’ve trained hard everyday. Uzui’s training left you sore for weeks on end, but you never stopped. You even decided to ask Mitsuri for help whenever she was free. How you managed to spar with Muichiro, you were unsure yourself. His crow berated you for even attempting to go near him, but you did so regardless because you wanted to become stronger.

You wanted to make Sanemi proud; that his time in saving you wasn’t a complete waste.

Sane Sanemi is going to hate himself when he regains complete control once more. He doesn’t like to look of disdain in your eyes when both of his hands yank your hair.

You’re beautiful, Sanemi notes, even when there's tears blurring your vision. 

“I won’t fight you…like you’re a demon or that man…” you gritted out, shoulders faltering and now you’re sobbing. “You’re not like them.”

Sanemi’s eyes widened. He pushes you onto your back roughly and his hands grip your kimono stash. 

You don’t question him but your body trembles when he yanks your kimono apart. You’re not naked beneath it, but you were expecting to go to bed before training so what you do have is limited.

“Make me stop.” Sanemi hisses. He leans closer to you, eyes not leaving yours. “A demon is going to kill you as they please. That husband of yours,” Sanemi leans closer so that his body fully traps yours beneath his. “would take you as he pleases.”

“Then take me.”

Then take me.

Then take you?

Sanemi’s head spins. 

“You are no demon nor are you the man I was sold to.” you speak, voice weak and low. “I’m not afraid of you, Sanemi. I sense even now that you won’t hurt me.”

Sanemi pushes himself away from you as if you burned him. He turns his head away as you fix your kimono.

“You…” Sanemi speaks after a moment. You both sat upon the ground and neither of you moved from your spot. “...remind me of my mother.”

You don’t say anything. This was the first time Sanemi was speaking of his past.

“She would protect us from our fathers wrath.” Sanemi scoffs. “When you jumped in front of my attack on Genya…you reminded me of my mother. In that moment, I knew in his eyes that I resembled our father.”

You flinch upon hearing Sanemi crash upon the ground. His eyes are closed and you pondered if he passed out. 

“You’re so kind, Y/N. Kind and beautiful.” Sanemi rambles, repeating the same words over and over again. “I feel it again. The jolt in my heart.” Sanemi holds his chest and sucks his teeth. “Aoi said that there’s nothing wrong with my heart. Little brat was laughing at me when I told her my symptoms.”

You find yourself smiling at the wind Hashira. Were men always this dumb?

“We should get you to bed.” you tell him.

“No.” Sanemi responds far too fast.  

“Why not?” Sanemi doesn’t want to tell you it’s because you won’t be coming with him. Instead he releases a grumble. “Don’t feel like it.”

You decide to lay beside him, back against the hard ground and eyes up at the starless sky. 

“Final selection is in a few weeks.” you say.

“I know.”

You lick your lips. “I’m going to come back alive.”

I hope so, Sanemi thinks, but he says, “I know.”

Your head turns to look at him. His eyes are closed and now his breathing is slowed.

Sanemi’s eyes stirred awake when he felt his face being touched. You’re tracing the scar that stretches from his cheek to his nose. He feels it again, the jolt in his heart.

Part 2 | Final

[artificial-transmutations]

Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

[dystychiphxbia]

☆ - it has always been you | haitani rindou

me, writing for something other than blue lock? wow!

rindou is shy with women, idc what you think

wc: 3k, not proofread, fem!reader

You've been friends with the infamous Haitani brothers for as long as you can remember.

At this point, you weren't sure how you guys met. You were the same age as Ran, so chances were you met in kindergarten. Maybe you just saw them one day, and decided that they would be your friends. You thought that it really didn't matter anymore at this point.

You were a ''good girl'', like your parents always called you. Kind-hearted, a model student, always helping out those in need. Even if Ran and Rindou did all kinds of things you didn't even want to know about, you weren't influenced. Despite considering them your best friends, you made sure to keep a certain level of distance. And they respected that, even though they were always so happy to tell you about how their fights went.

When your best friends landed themselves in juvie, you chewed them out for it. You were disappointed, to say the least. But you saw that something in them had changed. There was something foreign, that you had to stay away from.

Living in Roppongi, you constantly heard stories of the gangs Ran and Rindou lead, and the crimes they did. People would call them charismatic, but you just thought they were stupid. You just couldn't wrap your head around it. What was so great about that kind of life?

When the three of you were together, you saw a side of them not many people got to see. They were brothers, so they were constantly at each other's throats for whatever reason, but then minutes later they would be laughing at something stupid. 

For the most part, they were gentle with you. You knew that you are important to them, they cared about you just as much as you did about them. But more often than not, they would gang up together to make fun of you whenever you made a small mistake, or said something silly. Even if it annoyed you, it just showed how comfortable they were with you.

Countless times you would hear rocks thrown at your window at unholy hours. There were always two possibilities; One, they wanted to take you along on whatever silly idea they had. Two, they had been in a fight and wanted you to patch them up. You were glad to do that, of course, but every time you made sure to scold them. They would apologize, but you knew they didn't truly mean it. 

Your parents disliked the infamous duo. They always told you to stay away from them, and that they were a bad influence. Sure, they weren't wrong, but you always reminded them of how well you did in school, and they left it at that. Sometimes the two would visit and actually come in through the front door instead of the window. They would make sure to be polite with your parents, even if they already knew that their image couldn't be saved.

''He wouldn't speak, so I broke his fingers one by one-'' ''Jesus, Rindou, I don't want to hear the rest. You are too sadistic.'' You complained to the blonde who was sitting in front of your bed. You were laying on your stomach on your bed, facing him, while Ran had taken up the rest of your bed, already dozing off. He even claimed your pillow and blanket.

Rindou's grin dropped at your words, and he muttered a small 'sorry'. ''You just go a bit overboard sometimes, you aren't a yakuza.'' You gave him a reassuring smile. Before you got to continue, you felt Ran move around next to you, and you turned to look at him. ''Slept well, sleeping beauty?'' You smirked at him, and he gave you a quick glare. ''Would've slept well if you two didn't blabber so much. My bed may be the best, but yours is definitely number two.'' His arm lazily snaked around you, and he pulled you closer to him. 

Physical touch with either of them was something you were used to, but Ran was always the one to be more touchy. Rindou would sometimes flinch from your hands touching, while his older brother had no problems hugging or cuddling with you. Right now he was holding you so tightly that you could barely breathe.

''rin...dou help.'' You desperately extended your arm towards the blonde, who just shrugged. Feeling heartbroken and defeated, you accepted your fate. Unbeknownst to you, Ran was currently smirking at his brother, who tried to avert his gaze. The two could speak sentences without saying a word, so there was a lot of things you didn't know.

Like the fact that Rindou has had a crush on you for a long time. 

And Ran knew about it.

Ran would always push his brother towards confessing, but Rindou was just too shy. Part of him didn't want to drag you more into the messes he got himself in. In addition to that, he was greatly afraid of you rejecting him. Would you even look at him the same after? Would he ruin the comfortable friendship you had with the two of them?

When Rindou wouldn't make a move, Ran took matters into his own hands. He would try to make his brother jealous. That was the only way, he thought.

Ran would get you flowers for no reason, buy you your favorite snacks, and be extra touchy with you. Of course he didn't do any of that just because he felt like he had to for his brother's sake. He would never tell his brother this, but there was a part of him that wanted to be the one by your side. However when his younger brother came to him one evening asking for advice, he had decided to push those feelings away.

But Rindou, he did see the genuineness in his brother's actions. And in his eyes, he saw how you would smile so brightly at his brother, your eyes always lighting up. He wondered if he ever even stood a chance.

Could you really love a hoodlum like him?

''Ouch!'' Rindou was shaken from his thoughts by your voice. You were currently pushing Ran away from you, and he was full on laughing. ''Did you see that, Rindou? He bit me!'' You exclaimed while Ran continued to laugh. Rindou gave his brother a glare and finally got up. He took a hold of your arm, pushing his brother lightly while pulling you towards himself. Your back leaned against him with his hands being on your shoulder, while you glared at Ran.

''You monster.'' You pouted at him. ''Bet you are into that.'' The older brother stopped laughing to wink at you. ''Perv.'' Rindou spoke up. His hand pushed your hair out of the way and he looked at the mark that his brother had put on you. Was he officially claiming you as his?

The rest of that day went rather peacefully, with you clinging into Rindou while sending glares to Ran. The whole time Ran had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, which pissed you off even more. So in the end, you just completely ignored the older brother, and just focused on Rindou.

''Rindou. Let's go home, I'm tired.'' You eventually heard Ran complain. That guy had taken a total of three naps throughout their visit, and he was still tired? Rindou sighed, but got up from the spot he was sitting in, ''Fine.'' Feeling a bit disheartened at their quick decision to leave, you still followed them downstairs. Your father sent you a glare from the living room, pointing at the clock that said 10 pm. Not even that late, considering it was summer vacation.

You closed to door behind you, giving the duo in front of you a small smile. ''Come visit again whenever you want.'' You told them. ''Next time we are visiting through the window, your father always gets so angry when we come by.'' Ran chuckled. ''Just ignore him.'' You answered, quickly stepping in to give him a hug. That's something you had been doing since you were children. Eventually Rindou had stopped accepting your hugs, and you had stopped offering them. This time, though, something told you to open up your arms at him. For some reason, he accepted.

That hug felt different, in a way. It didn't last long, but you felt like it had more meaning to it than just a simple 'goodbye'. 

Rindou quickly pulled away, and with one quick glance at his brother, he started walking away. Ran gave you a wave, before following his younger brother. You watched them walk away, your heart beating a bit faster than usual.

At the same time, Rindou was glaring at his brother, more than usual. ''What?'' Ran smirked at him. ''You got a hug out of it, you always complain about how she no longer even tries to give you one.'' ''No need to bite her, though.'' ''You didn't care when she was basically being suffocated. That probably broke her heart.'' Ran held his hand over his heart. ''You are so dramatic.'' Rindou sighed, rolling his eyes. Ran answered with a laugh.

''But seriously, Rindou.'' Ran spoke up again, his tone now serious. ''You need to make a move. She won't know about your feelings if you don't tell her.'' ''You sound so serious, as if you have any more experience than me.'' Rindou answered with a sarcastic tone. ''Maybe not with serious relationships, but at least I get laid more often.'' 

Rindou sighed in frustration. 

The next day, you decided to go out. Just to have some time for yourself. Maybe to possibly run into a wild Ran or Rindou.

Instead, you ran into something you have been trying to avoid. 

''Is this really her? The little missy seen with the Haitani brothers?''

You were surrounded by maybe 7 guys, who were whispering to each other. It wasn't your first time. Rumors spread fast, and at least everyone in Roppongi knew that you were friends with the brothers. It attracted some unwanted attention. There were occasions where you would get harassed by complete strangers. They usually wanted to use you against the Haitanis, but there was a thing they didn't know.

You knew how to fight.

Of course Ran and Rindou taught you some things. Ways to get out of situations like these. Usually, you would try to talk yourself out of them. Rarely it worked. You wanted to call yourself a pacifist, but these idiots around you made it so difficult.

''Hey. What are you to the Haitanis?'' A man spoke up, who you assumed to be the leader. He was nothing compared to Ran and Rindou, you thought. A classic musclehead with no charisma.

''What's it to you? You gonna pay me for the information?'' You asked sarcastically, eyeing the men around you. You knew you couldn't win against all 7 of them, you weren't that strong. You also noticed that some of them had weapons, such as pipes, and you knew there was a chance that at least one of them carried a knife. You had a knife as well, but you only used that in extreme situations.

''Did ya hear that? The bitch can speak.''

Your eyes narrowed. More often than not you would piss off the person bothering you, and would get called a bitch, or a whore. It's like none of these men knew how to talk to women.

''Have some fucking respect.'' You spat, now walking towards him. ''I don't care what kind of beef you have with Ran and Rindou, but it has nothing to do with me.'' Before you could even realize what was happening, the man's fist made contact with your cheek. The force made you fumble, but you stayed up.

''How about you have some respect, huh?! Do you even know who I am?!'' ''Honestly? No. And I couldn't care less.''

You had one thing that always worked in your favor. The element of surprise.

You wasted no time and kicked him in the stomach. He winced in pain, doubling over from the impact. With everyone else now surprised and caught off guard, you bolted.

They didn't follow you for long, or maybe it's better to say that you were just too fast. Slowly calming down from the adrenaline rush, you spotted a familiar park. You used to play there with Ran and Rindou as children, and you still occasionally visited it.

And there you saw Rindou, with a bottle in his hand.

Shaking your head lightly, you walked up to him. ''Drinking with the homeless again?'' You asked, placing a hand on your hip. He was in the middle of taking a sip, and your voice startled him, causing him to cough uncontrollably. ''N-not many homeless around here.'' He gazed at the playground filled with children that was some distance away. ''I don't think drinking near children is any better.'' You sat down next to him.

It took him a while, but eventually he looked at you. Quickly putting the bottle on the ground, he used his hand to turn you towards him. ''Who hurt you?'' He asked, eyes glued to the red mark on your cheek.

''Oh this? Some thug, I don't know. Kicked him in the stomach and ran away.'' You shrugged. Rindou's gaze softened. ''Should've kicked him where the sun doesn't shine.'' A small smile made its way to his lips, before his expression turned serious again. ''But for real, (Y/n). What did he look like? I won't let him get away with this.''

''You don't need to do that.'' You smiled softly at him, getting lost in his violet eyes. 

''No, (Y/n). I do. I won't let anyone hurt my- uh, our-, uh our friend.'' He trailed off, mentally face palming at himself. Real smooth, Rindou.

You let out a laugh, making Rindou's face flush out a light shade of pink. He was embarrassed, but there was something about your laugh that made him feel things he couldn't explain. No one else had ever made him feel this way, when he was with you, nothing else mattered. Time didn't pass and he felt so light. There was nothing he could worry about. You were so beautiful, no one else compared. Your laugh was like music to his ears.

''Rin? You are staring.'' You snapped him back to reality.

''Oh, sorry.'' 

''No need to apologize. Stare all you want.''

Rindou was caught off guard, raising his brow in confusion. ''Excuse me?''

''Sorry. That was weird.''

''No need to apologize. Be weird all you want.''

A silence, which was soon followed by laughter.

Moments like this, Rindou wished they could last forever. But they never did. Eventually you would get interrupted by his brother. 

''Hey, Rindou?" "Yeah?" You stayed silent for a while, suddenly feeling nervous. You wondered if you really wanted to go through with this.

You were afraid. Afraid of what he would say, afraid of what would happen after. Afraid of change, and the unknown.

"I...there's someone I like."

Rindou's world came crashing down. This was it. He had lost.

"Y-yeah? Who is it?" His voice was breaking.

You took his hand in yours. "He's someone very close to me...Strong and charismatic..." You studied his calloused hands.

'fuck it's ran.'

"I...like you, Rindou."

"Huh? What?" He blurted out. A bit taken aback, you let his hand go. Rindou looked at you, looking for any hints of sarcasm or deception. He found none.

When he didn't answer, your defences went up. "Y-you don't need to say anything. I don't know why I said that, really. It just...came out. Felt right, I guess...I-" You kept going until Rindou stopped you.

''Wait. I thought you liked Ran.''

''...What?''

''What?''

Your brows furrowed in confusion. ''Why would I like him? He's a great friend sure but I'm not into him that way.''

Rindou blinked once. Twice. His face showed a hint of joy, and then again confusion. "But you are so touchy with him." "Yeah? I've always been touchy. You just stopped accepting my hugs." "...Fair enough."

Still, he couldn't believe that you would actually like him. It was something he had dreamt of, but he had never actually believed it to be true.

"Seriously, Rindou. Just reject me so I can move on." You hung your head low, not wanting to look at him. You thought you knew what was coming.

Instead, you felt Rindou's hand lift your chin, and his lips on yours. Before you could even react, they were already gone. You now looked at him, meeting his violet eyes once again. They were filled with determination.

"(Y/n). I love you."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

Love.

Such a strong word.

You knew Rindou wasn't the type to just throw the word 'love' around. There was meaning to it.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" You asked quietly. "I was...afraid. I didn't want to ruin anything between us."

The exact same thing applied to you. You felt silly for overthinking his actions so much. Each and every time he had rejected your touch, your heart broke. You thought that maybe you did something wrong, maybe you made him angry.

But Rindou is shy.

"Isn't there something that you are supposed to ask me?"

"Do I have to?"

"Of course you do."

Now Rindou took your hand in his. "(Y/n)...will you be my girlfriend?"

You stayed silent for a bit, pretending to think about it.

"...Yes."

"Don't play with me like that, love." Rindou sighed in relief. He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

You rest your head on his shoulder, now gazing at the playground you had already forgotten about. Was it too early to start thinking about mini Rindous running around?

Rindou felt like he was on cloud nine. You two were silent, but it was a comfortable silence. He still had a lot to learn, a lot to experience. But he was happy to do all that with you by his side.

...

He would probably enjoy the moment way more, if he didn't see his idiot brother hiding in the bushes giving him a thumbs up.