#Art Fight has been a really good test for how quickly I can finish pieces without sacrificing quality and so far I've been doing really wel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chiwhorei · 4 years ago

Text

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear.

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally.

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you.

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton.

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise.

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are.

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet.

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat.

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day.

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused.

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away.

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move.

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention.

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly.

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question.

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution.

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom.

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch.

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs.

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.”

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot.

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?”

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked.

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response.

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank.

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit.

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat.

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation.

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot.

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees.

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth.

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy.

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you.

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out.

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this.

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts.

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach.

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#ukai smut #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ukai keishin #coach ukai x reader #coach ukai #haikyuu keishin

4K notes · View notes

enmy-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off; barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body.

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff.

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest.

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you�� stupid.”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

418 notes · View notes

kaitycole · 4 years ago

Text

Love Two: the hard love

Summary: Miya Atsumu is an adventure and a half which is exciting for you after a mundane high school relationship. But what price has to be paid in order for you to be in his world?

Parings: Atsumu x Reader

Word Count: 7187 (my apologies)

Warnings: Angst. Toxic relationship tropes. Toxic behaviors. Slight physical violence (towards the end - it’s a wrist grab and a slap). Adult language.

Rating: 16+

A/N: This series is based on an article that talks about how in live, most of us experience three types of love. I’ll link the article in the series master post for anyone who wants to read it!

Golden yellow hair.

Chocolate brown eyes.

Burnt cinnamon cologne.

These images burn into your mind as tears sting your dry eyes. You swallow hard, trying to get the lump in your throat to dislodge but it only reminds you of how dry your throat is, how sore it is from screaming. Your head lays heavy on your pillow, a dull ache wraps around your head and you aren’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or the crying you’ve done over the last three days.

You two had a fight, another fight, the same old fight. You screamed, he brushed it off, leaving in a rush and slamming the door while you slid down the doorframe, sobbing. You thought that you’d be used to this, the constant up and downs that came with loving Miya Atsumu, the rollercoaster of emotions that came with the cycle of being together, breaking up and then getting back together. You’d been doing it for three years now, on and off again, but never being off for long before he dragged you back into his arms, not that you ever refused.

Your head hangs to the side as you slowly push yourself off the floor, your body too tired after fighting to climb into your bed the night before. For a moment you consider crawling down the hall before your pride takes over as you stand up, legs stiff but wobbly at the same time as your feet drag you to the couch in the living room. You aren’t sure what time it is, your eyes slowly adjusting to the large amount of sunlight coming into the apartment, the apartment he surprised you with and you had loved, now it felt like a prison.

Your phone starts buzzing and when you look, there’s several notifications from your two best friends Kaneko Yua and Higashi Naoki. You shuffle to the kitchen, grabbing a cup as you perch your phone between your shoulder and cheek, filling you cup with tap water.

“Y/N! Where are you?” Yua’s voice is too loud for the linger ache in your head, you jerk the phone from your ear to turn the volume down.

You chug down the ice-cold water that does nothing to remove the dryness from your mouth or throat, it’s as if it’s been coated in a thick layer of cotton. “Apartment.”

She’s silent for a minute, you can hear her mumbling to someone next to her. There’s a muffled sound coming from her end before a new voice comes through the line, fresh tears prick your eyes when you recognize it’s Naoki.

“We’re coming over, don’t leave.”

* * Three years ago

Your high school days had been filled with volleyball matches, practices, tournaments and while you have no ill feelings towards the sport or the boy who brought it into your life, you just hoped university would broaden your horizons.

Yet here you stood at a MSBY Fan Greet, your younger brother all but vibrating with excitement as he waited to get his overprice photograph signed by his favorite team. You previously made plans to hang-out with Yua over the spring break, but since your parents both couldn’t take him, your brother guilted you with the “but I miss hanging out with you” card and puppy dog eyes.

“For you.” His accent coats his words, passing you small folded piece of paper before your brother makes his way down the line to the next player for an autograph, tugging at your pants for you to follow his lead.

** “Wanna get something from the vending machine before the next class?” Yua asks. Kaneko Yua became your friend when you both started university last year, the two of you quickly became the best of friends even though the only interests you share is in your shared Art History major.

“I’m done for the day.” You tilt your head, smiling right before you stick your tongue out at her.

She throws her head back, groaning as you continue to walk, “how’d you get such a good schedule.”

“Told you to take those early morning classes.” You wink before running into her as she suddenly stops. “Yua-ch—”

Golden yellow hair and a cocky smile catch your attention as he leans against a flash sports car in the library parking lot. Yua looks at you, her eyes wide, you had mentioned that you got his number a few weeks ago to her, but that nothing but short conversation came from the exchange which only lasted a few days.

“Y/N!” He calls out to you, obnoxiously waving one arm up in the air to catch your attention, it does, along with the rest of the student body that’s outside.

He starts walking over to you and Yua, pulling off his sunglasses you see that dark chocolate eyes that captured your (e/c) ones just weeks ago. Your heart is thumping against your chest as he quickly closes that gap that has been between you, a short arm’s distance away from him. You can smell his cologne, it’s a strong smell, something similar to burnt cinnamon being carried by the wind the circles around you.

Yua looks at you for answers but you couldn’t give her any if you even tried. You find yourself swallowed whole by his dark eyes, feeling like you’re about to sink. “M-Miya-san?”

“Atsumu.” He smirks, “sorry for just showing up. I was in the neighborhood and thought we could go get something to eat. You aren’t busy, are you?”

“No, she’s not.” Yua nudges your arm, bringing you back to reality, “she’s actually all finished for the day.”

“What do you say? Will you come with me?” He reaches out his hand and you almost immediately take it and maybe you should’ve been more cautious, after all this wasn’t like it was in high school.

** The first few months with Atsumu are blissful, perfect and you start to wonder if this is what you were missing back with Ushijima. Every day with Atsumu is an adventure, you never know what to expect which is a sharp contrast to that same day everyday feeling you had back in high school. He keeps you on your toes and you love it, you eat it up, spending all your free time with him and it shows when you get back a test with a failing mark.

“Budding romances aren’t the most important thing in life, Y/N.” Your professor speaks low when he places the paper on the desk, he doesn’t have to tell you how he feels about it, disappointment drips from his words.

Atsumu didn’t offer much help on the subject either, simply shrugging at it and telling you that there’s always the next test. “Let’s go out.” “I really should study, ‘Tsumu.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, he’s sitting on the couch behind you.

He says your name, dragging out each syllable, “it’s the last night I can. I have an away game that I leave for on Friday.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” “Must have forgot.” He looks down at his phone, “coming or not?”

You know that you shouldn’t have gone, that studying is more important, but him leaving meant that you’d be apart for the first time and he had that lopsided pout on his face, so you agree. Grabbing your jacket and following him out the door as he drapes an arm around you, “I can always count on you.”

* * Two years and four months ago

“I’m gonna kill him!” Yua shouts as she walks into your dorm room. She practically ran from her part-time job in the library to your dorm when you called her, unable to talk from crying so loudly. While she took the elevator up to your room, she managed to see the text explaining the cause of your distress and is fuming.

“You’ll…go…to jail.” You finally manage to spit out, the sobs and hiccups breaking up your words as you wipe your running nose on your sweatshirt sleeve. Usually Yua would scold you, telling you just how disgusting that it, but tonight she just sits next to you, letting you lean on her shoulder.

She gently rubs your arm as she wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to her side, “maybe I’ll key that fancy car of his.”

“I think it’s his brother’s.”

“Deflate his balls!”

“Yua!”

“Volleyballs, get your head out of the gutter.” She smiles when you let out a small laugh. She leans her head down on yours and you are thankful that you’re close enough for the silence to be comfortable, for certain things to be left unsaid.

* * Two years and two months ago

The next few weeks seem to drag by, each day seemingly longer than the last. Yua has all but moved into your dorm, refusing to leave your side for more than the duration of classes. With her there, you realize even more that your phone hasn’t gone off, there’s no surge of messages coming through from a certain setter. Things take a bit of a turn when you hear a nearby conversation, two girls gushing about some famous model getting into a relationship to a volleyball player.

But it’s that said volleyball player’s name that anchors your feet to the ground, that name that echoes in your ears while your lungs struggle to take in the air you want to force into them.

Miya Atsumu

Yua essentially banned the use of his name or anything related to him into your life and for better or worse you’ve both manage to uphold it, especially seeing how with his newest brand deal, his face is everywhere just like Michael Jordan’s was in the U.S. during the 90’s. Somehow, you manage to avoid it, until now when your body seems to act on its own and you’re sudden reading several headlines confirming the match.

* * Two years ago

“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” Yua looks at you, worry etched on her expression, “I don’t have to go to this guest speaking event.”

“Yua, you’ve been talking about this for weeks, you’re going.”

“Promise to call if you need me to come back? I’m only going to Tokyo, so I can get back within three hours.”

“Yes, yes, I promise.” You make a “shoo” gesture with your hand, walking towards her as she picks up her back to leave. You pull her into a quick hug, reassuring her that everything will be fine for one weekend.

** You let out a dramatic sigh, towel drying your hair as you walk out of the bathroom and towards your bed.

8PM on a Friday and I’m getting ready for bed, lame.

You’re slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks when the music you’ve been playing gets interrupted by a phone call. Within much thought, assuming it’s Yua, you answer, only to stop in your tracks when a familiar and husky voice calls your name.

“Y/N!” Each syllable of your name is drawn out with a slight lag, a telltale sign that he’s intoxicated.

If Yua was there, she would tell you to just hang up and block the number, that you had been doing better lately and should just let someone else deal with it, but Yua isn’t there and you feel that it must mean something if you had been the one he called. Drunken words are sober thoughts, right?

His drunken voice and repeated plea of your name is enough to melt you, enough to make you throw all rational thought out the window, quickly throwing on a hoodie, rushing to the address he barely slurred out.

Fortunately, the restaurant he is at isn’t too far from your dorm, however it is embarrassing when you walk in and could hear him across the room, shouting for you.

“Atsumu.”

He quickly turns to you, that sloppy grin of his piercing you in the heart as he stumbles over to throw his arms around you. The scent of alcohol hits you before he does, leaving you to wonder just how much he’s had as you stagger backwards a bit before steadying the both of you. You just barely get the both of you to a cab, his constant swaying challenging you until you’re able to shove him in the vehicle, hesitating when asked where they were taking you. You didn’t know where he was staying these days, you still weren’t sure what he was doing in Kyoko, so you settle for the only address you know to go.

** “Are you serious?” Yua shouts, all but pulling out her hair.

Three weeks. That’s how long Atsumu had been back in your life and how long your best friend had been in the dark about it. You wanted to tell her about the night Atsumu called drunk, but felt it was best to do it in person since it was such a touchy subject, but when she got back, she was still so excited about the speaker and to tell you about it, you lost your nerve.

Then as the days continued to go by, you kept coming up with a reason not to tell her. What you weren’t expecting was her for to just show up out of the blue or for a fresh out of the shower Atsumu to answer the door. You felt confrontation coming and that was something you weren’t a huge fan of.

“I know it looks bad, but I can explain.”

Yua shakes her head, her lips in a straight line, foot tapping on the tile flooring. “This is why you’ve been cutting classes and missing assignments.”

“I don’t see how this is your business at all.” Atsumu glances over at Yua, an amused smirk on his lips, “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.”

Yua turns abruptly on her heel, storming out of the dorm room and when you grab her arm, there’s tears in her eyes when she turns to face you.

“He’s changed, Yua.” There’s such a hopeful look on your face, an expression that screams that you actually believe him.

She drags her arm across her eyes, wiping away the tears, “why can’t you see he’s not good for you!”

* * 1 year and 10 months ago

The shuffling of your peers is lost on you, motionlessly staying in your seat as all of those around you practically bolt out after the 55 minutes long public speaking class. Your eyes are trained on the board in front of you but the notebook on your desk is unopened, your pen still capped.

It takes a few moments for you to notice the weight of the hand on your shoulder and the back and forth motion it's pushing you in. Shaking your head, you snap out of whatever daze you’ve been in and look over to see Naoki with a concerned expression on his face.

“Do you need to see the nurse?”

You shake your head, “oh, no. I was just thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow at the quick smile you throw his way before he sighs, giving into your excuse, even after only knowing each other a few months, Naoki knew when to just let things go.

“Good morn—You aren’t Yua.” You stopped your greeting when you noticed the shuffling at the chair next to you wasn’t Yua but someone you’d never seen before.

“Oh no, sorry. I’m Higashi Naoki, I just transferred here.” He gave you a big bright smile, extending his hand out.

“Uh, oh, hello.” You felt embarrassment creep up the back of your neck as you awkwardly shook his hand. Luckily your phone vibrated, allowing you to focus your attention to something else other than the rather attractive brunette sitting next to you.

You read the words on the screen, somewhat understood the meaning of them but your mind kept going back to the warm orange brown eyes that looked at you with such kindness. They reminded you of the way you felt back in high school, the way that Ushijima made sure you always felt: safe.

To your surprise, Yua had already met Naoki, they shared the glass before this one and Yua was actually excited that you two had ended up meeting. After that, the three of you were fast friends, almost as if you had all been friends for years rather than just several weeks. But not everyone was excited for your new friendship and he had no problem being very vocal about it.

Atsumu wasn’t keen on the friendship when he randomly showed up to the campus one day, seeing the two of you sitting outside, laughing. You had to run after him, he took off without letting you even introduce Naoki, trying to tell him that he was just a friend, but Atsumu seemed to already have his mind made up on what was what.

A week later, after not hearing from Atsumu you got a message from him telling you that he needed to dedicate himself more to his team, his career and being in a relationship with you just wasn’t it.

“You can copy my notes during lunch, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Nao-chan!” You smile up at him while shoving your things into your backpack. He clears his throat, blush spreading across his cheeks as he turns away from you.

** Professor A: Missing Assignments

Professor B: Make-up Test Notice

Professor C: Mandatory Advisor Meeting

XMail: Unread Messages (12)

You feel a pit in your stomach, not wanting to read the emails, already knowing the disappointed messages they held. You hadn’t been your best self lately especially when it came to your studies and had several unfinished assignments and 0’s in the gradebook. It wasn’t like this was the first time you and Atsumu had been broken up but for some reason, each time felt worse than the previous time.

Leaning back, you let out a deep sigh as you glance around at the boxes that liter the room. After you and Atsumu broke up the most recent time, Yua managed to convince you to move into her off-campus apartment. At first you didn’t like the idea, not wanting to be a burden to her or cause anyone to think anything of her with you living with her, but she wouldn’t heard anything but yes. She told you that she had the space (her parents insisted on getting her a two bedroom even though it was just her) and it was easier for her to keep an eye on you.

There are still some things that are in boxes, mostly things from Atsumu that you didn’t want to toss out, but didn’t think should be on display either. Plus, with all the catching up you had to do, there wasn’t much time for anything else especially with the schedule that Yua had made for you. The two of you shared most classes, so she had all the notes and study guides you needed and to be honest, it helped keep your mind off a certain MSBY setter.

BZZT!

Nao-chan: I’m heading up, let me in! (1:42PM)

A smile spreads across your face, pushing yourself from the desk and quickly slipping out of your room and towards the door. By the time you open it, you see him walking up the hallway and he flashes you his signature smile when his eyes meet yours.

“Nao-chan!” You crash into him, wrapping him into a hug, one that he returns effortlessly.

“What have I done to get such a warm welcome?”

“I can’t just miss you?” You tilt your head when you look up at him, stepping away from him to look him in the eye. You hold back a laugh when you see his face turn red, turning his face away from you before mumbling something along the lines of “yeah, no, that’s fine.”

You bring back two cups of juice (Yua refused to let soda into the apartment) and notice that Naoki seems to be nervous, wringing his hands together and looking down at the ground which is different that he usually acts.

“Nao-chan, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, uhm, well I wanted to ask you something.” He makes eye contact with you and you nod for him to continue, “I bought these and thought we could go together.”

He pulls something out of the inside pocket of his jacket, passing it to you and for a second your blood runs cold, eyes scanning over the item picking up the word ‘volleyball’. By the warmth suddenly on your arm, you could tell that Naoki sensed your discomfort.

“Forget it, it was a dumb idea.”

“No! It’s not, it’s just…uhm…”

“I just thought that it might be a good way to get out of the apartment and it’s an Adlers’ game so maybe you’d seen your friend.”

You scrunch your brows together before looking back at the tickets. It was for a game between the Schweiden Adlers and Tachibana Red Falcons, a smile spread across your face, a mix of excitement to see Ushijima play again (his play style is still one of your favorites) but also that Naoki remembered these little facts about you.

“I’d love to go. I’ll call Ushijima and tell him we’ll be there!” You give him a quick hug, rushing to your room to get your phone, leaving a smiling Naoki behind.

** Naoki smiles watching you all but vibrate as you wait in line to go into the gym. The game had been all you talked about for the last two weeks, eager to get out of the apartment for anything other than classes or your on-campus job. You spent most of your free time telling Naoki just how amazing Ushijima is on the court and how he had already asked to meet Naoki, who seemed a bit nervous when you mentioned that.

“I didn’t know you liked watching volleyball, Nao-chan. Did you play in school?”

“Oh, uh no. The person I’m interested in likes it, so I thought I’d learn more about it.” He hands over the tickets, the two of you being ushered into to the building. His shoulder brushes yours due to the large amount of people all in the crowed hallway.

“I didn’t know you had your eye on someone! I’ll teach you all I know about volleyball so you can impress them!” You beam a huge smile at Naoki before your attention is pulled to the other side of the hallway. “Nao-chan! Let’s get t-shirts!”

He follows you as you drag him towards a table set up with shirts to memorialize the game. You intended to get matching ones, but due to size differences, you had a settle with a white shirt for you and a black on for Naoki. After you reluctantly let him pay, the two of you make your way to the gym, Ushijima had seats held for the two of you.

Once the whistle blew, you were back in your element, a huge smile on your face watching Ushijima command the court just like he had been for as long as you could remember. For the first time in years, you feel light and free, happier than you can remember being. Ushijima catches your eye at some point during the second set and you eagerly wave to him, giving him that same toothy grin you did as kids.

** “Toshi!” You barely give him time to turn around, running straight into him as you throw your arms around him, both Toshi and Naoki chuckle at the fact you managed to knock Toshi off balance for a few seconds.

“Y/N.” He pulls you into his broad chest and if you hadn’t known him for years, you wouldn’t believe that this tall and muscular man was the same boy who ran around with a watering can that was almost as big as him. “I’m glad you came today, it’s been a while.”

“Since high school.” You bite your lower lip and notice that Toshi squeezes your arm, a gesture he’d do to comfort you. He gives you a reassuring wink, letting you know that there’s no hard feelings about the past before he looks over at Naoki, “are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

“Oh no! No, no, no.” You stumble over your words, frantically waving your hands around.

“I’m Higashi Naoki, nice to meet you.”

“Nao-chan is just a friend.”

Linking your arm with his, you look back at him and see his smile drop for a split second before it reappears while shaking hands with Ushijima but that quickly leaves your mind when you see a familiar poof of orange hair. But before you can take the time to figure out who he is, you hear an accent that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget.

“Just friends, huh?”

Your eyes widen in horror, immediately turning and seeing the familiar sight of golden yellow hair walking away from you.

“Y/N—” Naoki reaches out to grab your arm, but you’ve already started running after Atsumu, calling out his name as you rushed to catch up to him, weaving through the crowded hallways.

“Tsumu!” You finally grab ahold of his wrist, trying to pull him back but instead he just yanks you forward as he tries to get his arm away from you.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy with an expression that matches, “why are you even here?”

“I came to see Tos—Ushijima.”

“I mean why are you here talking to me, you are clearly on a date with what’s his face.”

“Nao-chan? We’re just friends, it was just to get out of the apartment and have fun.” Your voice is trembling, bottom lip quivering listening to the harsh tone of his voice.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you were all over him, just stop lying.”

“No! I wasn’t.” The tears you’ve been trying to hold back now slip down your cheeks, you couldn’t figure out why he was acting like this especially when you were broken up.

“I never thought you’d end up like all those other girls, just another pig wanting to date me for status.”

Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears that you don’t hear whatever else he mumbled before turning and walking away, your arm weakly reaches out to him before your knees hit the vinyl flooring. After several moments pass, you feel someone pull you up and wrap their arms around you, the familiar scent of men’s body wash washes over you.

“Thank you.” You choke out, the comforting embrace causing more tears to fall.

“Best friends forever, right?”

* * 1 year and 3 months ago

“Are people looking at me?”

“Huh?” Yua raises an eyebrow as she looks over at you.

“There’s a psychology term for that feeling, it’s called spotlight effect.” Naoki says, trying to reassure you that no one’s looking.

“No, I think she’s right.” Yua stretches an arm out in front of him, causing him to stop walking before you drop your backpack on the ground, shocked.

Atsumu is standing on campus, wearing a suit, carrying a stupidly large bouquet of flowers, going around asking where you are, all but shouting your name to the sky. Part of you wants to disappear, of course he’d choose to stand in the middle of campus, catching everyone’s attention.

You trip slightly over your bag, marching towards him, barely hearing Naoki calling after you before Atsumu’s attention snaps to you, his eyes locking in on yours.

“Y/N!” Gleefully, he scurries towards you, handing the bouquet to you, it’s heavier than you thought it’d be.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?”

“I want, no, I need to talk to you.” He drops down to his knees and you can hear the increase of hushed tones, you glance back to see a very confused Yua and Naoki wears a horrified expression. “I’d like to try again, please.”

“Atsumu…”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“Okay, okay, just…please get up. People are staring.” You try to hide your face behind the flowers, the pure embarrassment causing your face to burn.

He pushes himself off the ground, grabbing your hand as he pulls you towards the faculty parking lot. It doesn’t feel like you are in your own body, your legs moving to keep up with him before he stops.

Once again, he drops down to his knees, grabbing your hands with his, pleading with you to listen to him, to believe that he really means it when he tells you that he’s changed, asking you for just one more shot. For most of his speech, you look at the top of his head, seeing that the golden yellow is being overtaken by his natural dark brown roots, your fingers twitch, wanting to run through his hair. It’s when you finally lock eyes with him that you see the tears that line them, a single one slipping down his cheek from the corner of his right eye.

“I shouldn’t have come.” He wipes his eyes, sniffling a bit. He squeezes your hands before he stands up, letting you go. “I’m sorry for doing this you.”

There’s no way to explain it, but he seems different and suddenly you want to see this new him, to be the one that gets to be part of this new and mature Atsumu. Throwing all your sense out the window, pushing the rational and logical voices of Yua and Naoki to the back of your head, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back and you can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Don’t go.”

* * 9 months ago

“Y/N! Door!”

Still in the process of buttoning your shirt, you poke your head out of your room, “I’m almost done, can you get it, please?”

Yua and Naoki share a look, when you had told them you decided to get back with Atsumu they weren’t shy about telling you how they were against it, that as your friend they hated seeing you so hurt, but they also told you that they weren’t just going to leave you either. It had been an unspoken rule that when it came to all things Atsumu (including opening the door) that they didn’t want to be part of it, for you to keep that part of your life away, unless he did something to hurt you.

Naoki reluctantly gets up, you can tell by the way he sluggishly walks his way towards the door. Dipping back into your room, you finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and sweater before pulling the door shut behind you.

You hear the door slam shut and look to see an irritated Naoki, “where’s Tsumu?” Naoki goes to speak, but you don’t give him a chance, instead just rush out of the apartment.

“Tsumu! Tsumu!” You shout out to him, barely catching his attention as he presses the button for the elevator. “Where are you going?”

He clenches his fist; the gesture catches your eye. “Home. I didn’t sign up to be humiliated tonight.” He looks at you, a type of rage in his eyes that you’ve never seen before and you aren’t sure what could’ve happened to make him so upset. Since he showed up on campus, begging for another chance eh always made sure to be open about his feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to tell me, Tsumu.”

“I just don’t like him being in your apartment.”

The elevator dings, doors opening and just as he goes to step into it, you pull back on his arm, pleading with him to stay, tears filling your eyes. He jerks his arm from your grip, not that you were holding on that tightly, and he steps into the elevator.

You aren’t sure why your relationship is like this, why it has so many ups and downs, why it hurts this much. You aren’t sure why being with Atsumu is so hard, why it feels like all you see is his back while he walks away from you, leaving you broken each time. In high school, you hated the almost boring way each day with Ushijima felt, but in this moment, you’d give anything for that because at least back then you felt safe and knew where you stood.

* * 5 months ago

For the last four months, Atsumu spoiled you rotten with daily gifts and elaborate dates. You received a flower a day, it was the flower of your birth month, boxes of your favorite candies, along with cards that had some romantic quote in them.

For dates, he takes you to the best restaurants, buys out move theatres, flies you to various parts of Japan to not only watch his games, but to show you around. When you’re together, he actually listens to you, takes his time to finally get to ask you about your upbringing, family, and where you see yourself in five years. He shows you how he’s remembered things you don’t like and even the things that you do and for the first time in the two plus years you’ve known him, it feels like things are starting to even out, that all the turmoil might just be over.

** “Do you like it?” His accent drips from his words, you’ve noticed the accent gets thicker when he’s either nervous or excited.

You glance around the empty apartment, a bit confused as why you’re standing in the middle of it. You thought that Yua apartment was big, considering it had two bedrooms, but this seems to be even bigger than hers. The large windows allow an abundance of natural light and you really do like that.

“It’s a really nice apartment.” You smile as he walks over to you, pulling you into his toned chest, his chin on your forehead.

“I’m glad, it’s yours.”

You pull back, shock written all over your expression, too many thoughts racing through your mind for you to form a sentence. Atsumu did a lot of crazy things, did a lot of spur of the moment things, but this, this really did top them all. “What?”

He shrugs, digging in his pocket before placing a key in your hand, he looks a bit scared to you. “It’s just…my lease was up and I know it’s a bit further from campus than Yua’s, but I was thinking you’d like to live here…with me.”

Without any hesitation, you throw your arms around Atsumu, repeatedly saying “yes” as you awkwardly bounced up and down. When you pull back, he cups your face in his hands, bringing you closer for a kiss.

You can’t stop smiling, eagerly nodding your head as Atsumu talks about furniture and getting your things boxed to be moved, not really hearing anything because all you can think of is that things are finally going to work out between the two of you and that’s why your heart is thumping against your chest.

* * 3 months ago

Two months.

8 weeks.

60.8 days.

That’s how long your relationship of bliss lasted, how long you saw the caring and loving version of Atsumu, the side of him that stole your heart even after months and years of back and forth, ups and down, on and off.

You hate it because things were going so well, everything was perfect, even better than how great things had been with Ushijima back in high school. What you hate even more is the fact that while you had been packing up your things, you said some not so nice things to Yua, telling her that she was wrong about him, that this time things were going to work out. You had all but bragged and even hit below the belt with saying she was just jealous that she didn’t have someone that loved her the way Atsumu loves you.

Nine times out of ten you’re alone in this apartment, your music on the highest volume isn’t loud enough to fill the silence that creeps through the rooms and wraps around you and when the silence gets to you, you’re forced to think about things you’d rather not. Like how right Yua had been, how Naoki was only looking out for you, how every time you got back together with Atsumu, it just seemed to hurt worse than the time before.

During that one time of ten that Atsumu is home, the two of you just fight, you fight about everything really; your classes, his games, your friends, his friends and now that you’re all but isolated from your friends, it just makes things worse. You’ve always hated comparing the two, Ushijima to Atsumu, knowing both relationships are/were different, but recently, you’ve wondered if repeating the same day over and over, if that almost suffocating comfort, you wonder if that would be easier to live with now when looked at next to the way your current relationship has been.

* * Atsumu flips his phone face down, muting it after it had begun to ring, turning his attention back to the movie the two of you were watching.

You scoff, pushing yourself off his side to lean against the other side of the sofa.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what? I was just getting more comfortable.”

“Cut the shit. You always do this.”

You roll your eyes, already irritated. “Did you want me to leave the room so you could call her back?”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He pushes himself off the couch, shaking his head as he storms into the kitchen.

You reach across the couch, swiping his phone from the armrest, trying to get into it, but no surprise he’s once against changed the passcode. You’re fuming at this point, shoving yourself off the couch before you start to walk to your room. You were done, have been done with all of this.

His hand tightly wraps around your wrist and jerks you backwards towards him. He starts yelling, demanding that you give him back his phone and the anger in you takes over and you throw it across the room. You start to scream about how you’re done, you’re tired and don’t deserve to feel this miserable. He yells back telling you that he’s giving you things anyone would be thankful to have and you smack him with your free hand.

He freezes, dropping your wrist as he runs his fingers through his hair, the expression on his face is something you’ve never seen and without another word, he storms out of the apartment.

You didn’t see him for three weeks, if it hadn’t been for his teammates Hinata and Bokuto stopping by, you wouldn’t have known that he’s okay and has been staying with them. When he does come back, he has a long-winded apology and a large bouquet of flowers. He falls to his knees in the door way, telling you that he’s sorry, that he can’t believe his actions and that he swears that he’ll do better.

* * Present Day

When you open the door, Yua throws her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace and you feel yourself start to sob again. She holds you up as your knees get weak, letting the exhaustion take over you as you inhale her familiar perfume.

Naoki slightly pushes by the two of you, angrily making his way through the apartment, brows scrunched into a scowl. You watch as he flings open every door, stomping through each room before he walks back to you, rage radiating off of him. “Where the fuck is he?”

You’re startled, panicking you look up at Yua who wraps her arm around your neck and pulls you back into her, your face pressing just below the top of her shoulder.

“Obviously not here, so chill out.”

She ushers you over to the couch, Naoki handing you the throw blanket to wrap around yourself as you finally catch your breath. You lean your head on the back of the couch, it just adds pressure to your headache, but you’re having a hard time opening up to your friends.

“How’d you know something was wrong?” You slowly lift your head up, looking between the two of them, your face turning red when you hear that you called Naoki repeatedly around 2AM, leaving incoherent voicemails where they only picked up on the words: fight, Atsumu and leave.

“I really think you should move back in with me.” Yua speaks with caution, knowing how sensitive the topic is.

You just nod, defeatedly. You’re more upset about failing to maintain the relationship than you are that the relationship is over. Part of you wants to know why you put yourself through so much to prove you could stay with him, was it because you didn’t want your previous break-up to mean nothing? That if you could make this one work then you weren’t an awful person for ending things with Ushijima for an almost comical reason?

“Just pack what you have to have and we’ll replace whatever you don’t bring and need, okay?” Naoki gives you a small smile before Yua stands up telling you that she’ll grab your things from the bathroom and Naoki can get the things throughout the living room.

Roughly half an hour later, you have most of the things you brought, minus any gifts that Atsumu gave you, but you can’t seem to step through the threshold. Yua and Naoki are standing in the hallway waiting, but you’re afraid to make the step because all of a sudden it symbolizing a bigger commitment that you intended. Once you step out of the apartment, once you shut the door and drop the key in the box, you’re officially shutting the Miya Atsumu chapter of your life and that shakes you to the core.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay. We’re right here. I’m right here.” Naoki reaches out his hand and you decide to take that leap, grabbing on to his hand like a lifeline. Your knees are wobbly as you place one foot into the hallway, straddling the threshold. “C’mon, just one more step. I got you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, frantically taking that last step before throwing your arms around Naoki, repeatedly saying “I did it!” He puts his hand on the back of your head, pressing you into him, telling you that he’s proud of you.

You take one last look into the apartment that for some reason now fills small, it feels different, like you no longer belong there and while you’re still terrified of letting go of the rope that ties you and Atsumu together, there’s something exhilarating about starting over. Your eyes are closed as you pull the door shut and when you turn and open them, you see proud smiles on both Yua and Naoki’s faces and you couldn’t help but be excited for this next chapter.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Interested in the rest of the series? –> Series Masterlist

Interested in other works? –> Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hq angst #my three loves #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #kaitycole MTL #atsumu angst #tw toxic relationship #tw angst #tw toxic behavior #tw physical violence #tw slapping #tw adult language

97 notes · View notes

sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

Text

❅ Christmas Gala ❅

❅ pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

❅ prompt: “Out of all the seats, and you willingly choose the one beside me? Should I be concerned?” @/coffin-prompts

❅ summary: ransom has a plus one to take to the gala, so he decides to extend the invitation to his assistant. it’s nothing more than business, right?

❅ warnings: slight age-gap, a few curse words and that’s about it.

❅ word count: 2,424

❅ author’s note: i know i have a lot of requests to write, but i needed to get the gears turning if that makes any sense. i’m trying to test the waters here. once again, i’m not going to be cranking out fics every week, but here’s me shooting my shot. the story may seem slow in the beginning, but it will pick up, i promise!

(gif below is not mine, nor do i take credit for it)

***please excuse any mistakes***

December 24th, the night of the annual Christmas Eve Gala. Every year, prestigious and wealthy families were invited to the charity event held at the Center for the Arts in Boston. Among those who were invited, were the Thrombeys and Drysdales. Your boss, Ransom, also happened to be invited to the event and for some unusual reason, he decided to extend the invitation to you as the invite included a plus one.

A knock on the door of your apartment distracted your thoughts from your focused typing. Standing from your seat at the table, you curiously made your way to the front. You hadn’t invited anyone over and rarely did you receive solicitors.

Taking no time, you opened the door to be greeted by an older man, holding a gorgeous red midi dress hanging inside of a plastic dry clean bag. With furrowed brows, you quickly shot your eyes to the tag on the man’s uniform. The name of the local dry cleaner embroidered onto the pocket.

“Delivery for (y/n)?”

Nodding uneasily you reached forward and took the dress from the smiling man who left as soon as the dress was in your hold. You held the hanger with one hand and with the other dug to see the ticket along with the Michael Kors tag.

You only knew one person who would do such a thing, and reading the name on the receipt confirmed your suspicions.

Ransom.

There was an hour and a half till Ransom would be here to pick you up. Honestly, before you were surprised with the dress, you were contemplating not going altogether. Diligently, you finished up Ransom’s schedule for the week and shut off your laptop, running to go and get ready.

The person staring back at you in the mirror made even you swoon. Ransom had surprised you once again by having selected the correct size for you. A flattering sweetheart neckline fell comfortably on your chest as the off the shoulder sleeves hugged you just enough to where they didn’t slide. You ran your hands over the sides of your body, smoothing the dress out. Bringing your gaze down to your feet, you stepped forward to sleep your feet into the heels in front of you. Taking one last check in the mirror, you were satisfied with the look and decided to once more head to the front door.

Searching through the small coat closet, you rummaged through the many jackets, eventually finding your most prized possession. Practically brand new, you slipped on the tan trench coat that you had bought with your first real paycheck a few years back. Right out of college, you hopped onto this job and for the past five years, you’ve worked for Ransom. The pay was good and you couldn’t complain.

To some, this trench coat wouldn’t be anything, but to you, it was the most expensive thing you owned as it was also the first designer piece of clothing you had ever owned and purchased. Once the jacket covered your shoulders, a knock sounded on the door. With Ransom’s usual impeccable timing, you correctly assumed it was him as it was exactly 8 o’clock on the dot.

You opened the door to see the man out of his usual sweater and slacks, but instead wearing a suit and tie, making your mouth water. Apparently he felt the same way as Ransom’s jaw slightly hinged opened and you giggled. Taking two fingers and gently pushing it back up.

“You’re staring, boss.”

Ransom shook his head and muttered out a quick “right.”

He held out an arm for you and you latched on, the two of you heading for his car.

Arriving, you were met with Joni’s “friendly” shriek of your name. Linda paid no mind to your entrance and her scowl made you cower into Ransom’s hold. He reassuringly squeezed your arm and walked even closer to the family. In his usual cold manner, Ransom greeted his mother and then turned his attention to his father who was currently arguing with Walt. How all of them managed to piggyback onto the perks of having the Thrombey name, you’ll never know.

As Ransom fueled his father and uncle’s argument, you wandered off to Meg who gave you a small smile. Currently, she was trying to get Jacob to talk, but he was too invested into whatever was playing on his phone.

With a defeated sigh you went back to Ransom, running to him like a little mindless sheep. As much as you hated it, leeching onto Ransom around was the only thing to do since you felt so out of place at this event.

For what felt like a good hour, you were on your feet and unknowingly becoming Ransom’s arm candy. You both had made your way from the family and to the crowd. Filled with unease, you downed more flutes of champagne than you could count. All you knew is that jaws were moving and yet you didn’t hear or care to listen to a single word.

At some point even Ransom had somehow managed to ditch you and with no one else to run to, you eventually found your way into the theater. The usher politely showed you around to a seat even though they were not assigned. You plopped down into the seat, taking off those awful heels seeing as no one else was in the theater.

You sat in the empty space for what must have been a good half hour. Save for your phone, you were extremely bored and most of all tired, already fighting your eyelids that were heavily falling. At some point, chatter fell upon your ears and you quickly blinked the sleep out of your eyes.

A few rows over, you could spot Linda and Richard, and then as you turned your head the other way, the rest of the clan was in sight. They all came from different directions, but ultimately ended up sitting behind you. Your eyes sifted through the crowd, although there was no sign of Ransom.

You had expected he’d be off with someone by now, but for some reason a small part of you had been expecting him to stay with you. A sad sigh left your lips and you then delicately crossed your legs over each other, leaning back in the chair. If Ransom was going to leave you all alone, you might as well enjoy the free show and hell, enjoy yourself. After all, it was once in a blue moon that you got all dolled up like this and truly had a good time.

As much as Ransom acted like he didn’t care about you, you both knew that was the complete opposite. The little things he did allowed you to see that. Sometimes he would order you your favorite meal, or make you a cup of coffee for when you arrived at his house. As for tonight, Ransom knew how much you enjoyed plays and dances, hence why he invited you. In Ransom’s own way, that’s how he showed his love, through money and such. The man was raised that way which gave him the idea that this was the only way to love. Your heart ached for him as he didn’t know that there was more to love than money. Honestly, sometimes you did try to show him that, with sweet hugs and such. Like a grumpy old man, he’d grumble and try to push you off of him, but he really didn’t try hard enough. Just like a few hours ago, when he had let you hang off of his arm, which was a sign that Ransom was slowly easing into the whole idea.

The doors to the theater were harshly shut and the sound bounced off the walls, grabbing your attention. You lifted your head to scan around the room for Ransom’s face one last time when a hand grasped onto your shoulder.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

A cheeky grin was on the man’s luscious lips and it took everything in you to not lean forward and kiss away said grin. Instead, you just crossed your arms over your chest and scoffed with faux annoyance. Ransom threw his arm around your shoulders and brought his fingers up to the side of your face. With gentle strokes using the very tips of his soft fingers, Ransom brushed some hair behind your ear. Trying not to be bothered by his actions, you decided to speak up.

“Out of all the seats, and you willingly choose the one beside me? Should I be concerned?”

As the lights go down and the show begins, you see Ransom shake his head with a slight smirk. As he does so, he lowers his hand from your hair and starts lightly tracing shapes on your bare shoulder.

“I’m offended you’d think such a thing, (y/n). Can I not just sit with my lovely assistant who I love so much?”

Ransom was whispering in your ear at this point, but you could still hear the playfulness in his voice. A quiet laugh fell from your lips and you just shook your head disapprovingly.

“No, not after you ditched her in the lobby.”

Before Ransom can apologize, the show begins and your attention is now drawn towards the beautiful opening number.

The show goes on, and you grow sleepy. It’s not that you weren’t enjoying the performances, no they were captivating, but you were just exhausted and definitely not one wired for these high strung events. You were tired from just merely pretending to be friendly and kind around these people. They had barely turned an eye to you since your last name wasn’t from an affluent family and you surely didn’t have a silver spoon resting on your lips. Especially with the title of “Ransom’s assistant” virtually floating over your head, the people you had met could have cared less if you were instead a dog on a leash.

Ransom still had his arm wrapped around your shoulder and his dancing fingers were lulling you to sleep. With a soft yawn, you riskily laid your head on Ransom’s own inviting shoulder. He smiled sweetly at your trust and turned his head to place a delicate kiss on the crown of your head. Although the other Thrombeys surrounded you both, Ransom didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, their heads were too far up their asses for them to even notice your interaction with the man.

You hummed in content and snuggled a bit into his side.

Once the show ended, Ransom gently shook you awake before anyone could see you had fallen asleep. He rose from his seat first and held out his hands for you. Sleepily, you placed them in his as the man helped you from your own seat. Unfortunately, the row of seats you were sitting in was long and you had sat smack dab in the middle, meaning you’d be standing a long while. At the moment, your back was turned towards Ransom. His radiating warmth made you more susceptible to the cold air of the room as it hit your once warm skin. Ransom noticed your chilly shaking as you ran your hands over your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Wasting no time, the man hurriedly shed off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders since your back was facing him. He placed his hands on your now-covered shoulders and leaned down to quickly kiss the base of your neck. Just as you were about to turn and face him, the line before you started to move, leaving you no time to do so.

Eventually you made it back into the lobby, where neither you or Ransom decided to speak up about the events that had just occurred. He hastily grabbed your hand and led you to the family where you had assumed you’d be socializing once more. With your free hand, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, accidentally smearing your makeup and internally groaning as you did so. You were about to let Ransom know you were heading off to fix your makeup when instead you heard the man bidding goodbye to the family.

“Ransom, where are we going?”

The man walked with determination and pulled you along with him, the two of you showing up at the coat check. The attendant reached over the counter as Ransom took the two jackets from the young man. He turned towards you and simply responded, “We are going home.”

You cocked your head to the side, confused as you thought he’d still want to socialize a bit. The night was still young as Joni liked to say and she said way more than you liked, too.

“I thought you’d want to hang out a bit more, Ransom?”

He continued walking out the door, but still held up his end of the conversation.

“I saw how tired you were and figured we should head out before it got any later.”

Stopping dead in your tracks and right outside of the building, you turned to the man with an unreadable expression. The freezing night wind hit your face like needles, yet you still stood in your place.

“Seriously? If that’s the case I could have just taken an Uber, you know. I’m not here to be a pain in your ass.”

Ransom shook his head and you looked up at him with squinted and suspicious eyes.

“You could never be a pain in my ass. Especially with all of the things you do for me.” The man looked down on you now. His eyes meeting your own.

“First off, I would not have you ride in an Uber this late,” bringing his hand to your chin, he continued, “and second, this is what you do when you love someone… right?”

He looked almost sheepish now and you had to refrain from making some cutesy expression at his adorable face. Proud of his realization, you excitedly nodded and with great confidence, pressed your lips to his.

Ransom brought his hands to your waist and pulled you even closer as if he could lose you by not doing so. The two of you then leaned away after some time, small and sweet smiles on both of your faces. Ransom held his hand out for you, leading you to the car and eventually to his house, where you’d spend your first night together enjoying precious time spent in each other’s company.

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin

If I have messed up or you want to be removed, please do not hesitate to ask. Same goes for joining!

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #sylvie writes christmas celebration

201 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 4 years ago

Text

Playing With Fire Ch. 3

Ignition

@emrysaf

You’ve decided. You’re going to marry Maki.

You’re going to marry her and adopt Sputter and Flare, and you’ll all live happily ever after in the cathedral and-

You’re broken out of your thoughts when Maki smacks you so hard you literally see stars and throws you on the ground.

“... owe.”

If everything else hadn’t cemented the fact that you were really living inside Fire Force, the pain of Maki’s fist and the hard concrete under your cheek sure would have. Holy hell, how was she so strong?

You roll over on your back to look up at her.

“I bet,” you begin, “that you could bench press me if you really wanted to.”

Maki’s cheeks pink and she huffs down at you. “Why aren’t you using your pyrokinesis? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

I have no idea how to do that!

“Nope, Nope! I’m sure you could wipe the floor with me, it’s not that miss!” You said quickly. “I was just in awe of you, sorry,” you salute quickly, and watch pink crawl across Maki’s face.

So cute!!

“H-honestly! At least use your spear!”

You perk up. Spear? The Sun Spear? Is that what you have here? An answer! Finally! An answer!

Maki takes your surprise for something else. “No one told you that they’d sent it over ahead of you? You should really keep better of your gear.”

You dip your head quickly. “Yes, yes. Sorry. Can you show me where it is, please?”

“Sure,” Maki smiles at you, “We’re about done for now, anyhow. Let’s go back inside and wash up. Sister Iris and Shinra should be waiting.”

Maki takes you back into the cathedral, away from the training area on the roof. The cathedral really is pretty run down. The walls could use a good scrubbing, the floor boards either need to be replaced or are missing entirely, and there’s a lot of cracks in the tile and missing corners. The windows are fine, if not dusty, and the stained glass pieces are really beautiful. The whole place smells faintly of burnt wood and gun oil. It’s not bad, but its certainly unfamiliar. Everything is so vivid. The way it smells. The sound of the building settling, and the birds outside, and the voices of your new comrades.

It’s amazing.

Kinda terrifying, but crazy cool too.

After a quick shower for each of you Maki shows you to the weapons room, where a long, thin case is rested against a wall between two racks of guns. Obi’s shield is propped up in one corner, along with a couple of his weird stabbing things that he puts infernals to rest with. You’ve been here two days now, and you’ve seen him use it twice.

You don’t know how, but you know instinctively that that case belongs to you.

You go to it. There’s a strap along the back, like the kind on a violin case. You carefully set it on a table, mindful of the bullets stacked on top of it. With a few clicks you undo the buttons on either end and open up the case. Inside is a long staff, deep red in color and capped at the bottom with copper colored metal that curves into a diamond point. On the opposite end is a thin band of the same metal, that reveals the inside to be hollow.

You pick it up carefully, testing its weight in your hands. It feels natural. Even though you’ve never actually fought with a spear before your body knows where to hold it, and how to spin it around elegantly until you’re facing Maki again. Your body knows how much space you’re taking up, and how not to hit the walls, while your brain geeks out over the fact that you’re actually holding the Sun Lance.

So cool!

Is it conceited to say that you’re super cool? Or that this was hella badass?

You were almost bouncing on your toes you were so excited.

“Wow, I didn’t know you missed your spear this much,” Maki smiled at you. “You look good with it.”

“Aha, you think so? It’s just nice to have it I guess. This has been, I dunno. An adventure already. I’m in a strange place, with strange people, and I’m in an awfully dangerous situation. It’s been an adjustment, ya know?”

You feel like a fool for rambling, but Maki smiles at you kindly.

“I understand. Even though I was raised in a military family, it took me a while to get used to life as a fire soldier too. Don’t worry too much about it, and you know, we’re always here to help. It’s not like you have to go it alone.”

You’re heart warms with her words. “Yeah. Thank you, Maki. You’re really a nice person.”

Once the Sun Lance is safe in its case the two of you leave the armory, and make your way to the dorm rooms.

Since the company is so small, each person gets their own room. In bigger companies you would be in actually dorms, or barracks, but the eighth only has Obi, Hinawa, Maki, Sister Iris, Shinra, and yourself. Arthur will be here soon too, and Tamaki. Your small company will grow soon.

Your own room ended up being at the top of one of the towers on the west side of the cathedral, opposite of the garage. Which meant that last night, when the alarm had gone off, you’d been the last to arrive at the Matchbox. Near the garage are the locker rooms, and the communal showers, although there’s more bathrooms scattered through the base.

In the center of the cathedral is the courtyard where Sister Iris purifies herself, and grows flowers.

It’s really a nice place.

“Thank you,” you say again, and Maki nods to you and leaves you to climb the steps on your own. You shut the door and lock it behind you.

Your room is scant, all things considered. A bunk bed it pushed into each corner, with a desk underneath it. You’ve claimed the one nearest to the window. There’s a wardrobe on the opposite side, and a small, stocky book shelf.

You need to hang up some pictures or get a rug or something. It’s entirely impersonal.

You rest your Sun Lance up against the corner by the window and go to sit at the desk under your bed. You’ve already unpacked your few belongings into the wardrobe and the drawers of the desk, including the diary from ‘Fuyuki’.

Your ‘sister’. The game honestly hadn’t told you a whole lot about her. Just that she disappeared, and what few flashbacks you would have now and again. Like the one you got when you touched your ring and the lighter.

You open it up with careful hands.

Inside the handwriting is familiar, even if the words aren’t. There’s no mistaking your hand writing. It looks like a serial killer in a movie has left a ransom note made out of letters cut out of magazines.

I wonder if there’s cereal in the kitchen.

You always think better when you’re snacking.

To keep your thoughts in order, you scatterbrain.

<3 Fuyuki

The first entry is dated for 193 AC. After the Cataclysm. It’s 198 now, so this was given to MAIN (to you?) five years ago. That would have been right before she graduated the fire academy and joined her company. A year before she disappeared, around 194.

It feels invasive to read the diary of the person whos life you’ve taken over, but you need answers and you don’t have a lot of options here.

I can’t believe Fuyuki gave me a diary! That’s so lame, and super girly. I don’t really want to write in it, but she gave it to me so I guess I should? Even if I am kinda mad at her. She left to go to school years ago and she never comes home! She’s so mean but then she’s nice and its so frustrating! Not fair. Stupid sister.

But i’ll try i guess. There’s not much else to do in the house. None of the other kids really wanna play with me, and the Yagi’s are busy watching the littler kids. And maybe i’ll have kids and their kids will have kids will have kids will have kids and i’ll be their super cool ancestor and they’ll read this for inspiration or something.

Good god, how old were they when they started writing this? Twelve? How old even were you?

Fuck it.

You kept reading. They/you weren’t a regular writer, with long months going between entries. Some of them were sad, some of them were happy, most of them were angry. They had a lot of complicated feelings on the sister who had abandoned them to what was basically a group home outside Asakusa, and then bitterness at themselves for being so angry when she disappeared. But most of it wasn’t that useful. It was about grades and teachers, and grief. They got into a lot of fights, and they were something of a scrapper. They were briefly enrolled in martial arts classes, but they had to quit because they were too rough with the other kids. So they were a scrapper, but that wasn’t anything related to fire.

You rubbed your temples and glared at the diary. How did it answer your questions but leave you with more?

Why is this my life now?

So much here didn’t make sense, nonetheleast the fact that you were here to begin with. Well. At least you finally knew what your pyrokinesis was right? Even if using it was nearly impossible, and you couldn’t make sense of everything.

Of course, there were plenty of things in this world that didn’t make sense. Like how sound could turn fire into ice.

Bringing back the dead made more sense than that!

You cross your arms and glare at the diary. So far the only useful bit is the part where you’ve had some decent training. Everything else is just the most vague information about the investigation into her sister’s disappearance. That much you already knew, although you didn’t have time to read everything in it. There were big gaps that you just knew were holding important information!

At a loss, you flipped to the very last written on page, halfway through, and froze.

Staring back at you was your own face. A small picture. It was your resume for the squad assignments, with your own check boxes and preferences listed. Underneath it was the list you had written before, of Everything You Knew. It was short, with little screen caps here and there. You flipped the page and found it filling itself in with ink that didn’t come from a pen, finishing up what it started on the page before.

A new page started, this one listed your stats.

In game there were a hundred levels. You had gotten maybe halfway through? A third if you rounded down. And it listed your level at 40. Underneath had your attack power, defense, stamina, agility, and your special moves.

You were weirdly well rounded. Three out of five bars for everything, except the SM, which only had one.

But, you hadn’t put that there!

You quickly flipped it back and forth before you went to the very, very last page in the diary. On the back cover the ink finally finished filling out. A progress bar.

You stared at it for a long, long time, trying to work over everything was happening.

So.

Now you knew what you could do. Just not how to do it.

You were out of options at this point. You were just going to have to suck it up.

You were going to have to ask someone for help directly.

Shinra looks up from his work when you plop into the seat across from him, your arms crossed across your chest. It would be a lie to say you’re not nervous. You’re not even totally sure how you’re supposed to ask these questions, but you don’t have any other way to go about this any more.

You tried the diary. You’ve spent two and a half days trying to get your ignition ability to work without help. Admittedly, you hadn’t even know how your ability was meant to manifest at the time, but even now you can’t get it to work.

“Oh, hey there,” Shinra offers you an awkward smile. You grin right back, trying to project as much happy-go-lucky-nothing-wrong-here-!- as you can. It’s made easier by the fact that prior to a few days ago, no one here had known you as anything more than a passing acquaintance.

“Hi Shinra. I’ve got a weird question for you,” you announce bluntly.

Shinra looks a little more wary, and he’s starting to smile.

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Ah, it’s pretty simple actually. How do you activate your abilities?”

“Huh?”

“How do you-”

“No, I heard you,” he holds up his hand to cup you off. “It’s just a weird question.”

“Hey man, I told you it was gonna be one.”

You stare at each other for a long minute before Shinra huffs and looks towards the ceiling. He might not be the best person to ask. Maybe you should ask Maki, but Shinra makes you feel secure and you trust him more than anyone else just yet.

“How do I activate my abilities? I dunno. I guess for me it’s more like I have to turn it off.”

You tilt your head, listening intently to Shinra.

“When I was a kid… I had a hard time controlling my flames. They started up suddenly, and burned through my shoes and pants. I ended up wearing these extinguisher boots, and shorts, so I wouldn’t destroy everything around me. It took a long time to figure out what was going on, but someone finally explained it to me. For a lot of third generation pyrokinetics, the thing that triggers out ability is the memory of the first time they happened.”

You falter. “But, wait. Didn’t yours activate when-”

“Yeah,” he cuts in, shooting you a grin that’s anything but happy. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Oh god, Shinra…” That meant that every time he used his powers, he had to remember his mother’s ‘death’ and his brother's disappearance. He had to think of pain and fear and grief, and he used his flames so often-

“It’s okay,” he cuts in. You can’t imagine what kind of face you’re making. “It was painful at first, and it still is, but it’s a good reminder for what I’m fighting for, and why I’m working so hard towards that goal. I will find a way to stop human combustion. I will make sure no one else ever has to grieve the way I did.”

“Shinra,” you say softly. “You really are something.”

Shinra tries to shrug off your words, but his smile is a little more genuine. “I just wanna be a hero.”

“You will be,” you promise him. It’s all you can do not to tell him the truth then and there. His mother is alive, and suffering. His brother is alive, and suffering.

They need help.

But you hold your tongue. You don’t have any way of proving it to him, and there’s already so many things that are different here than they were in the game, or the show. Your presence being one of them.

You let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful.”

Shinra shakes his head. “What made you ask?”

“Honestly?” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I’ve been having trouble using my abilities since we left the academy. I thought maybe if I asked you how you do it, I might be able to figure it out.”

Shinra looks startled. “Really? I guess that explains why you haven’t used them in the last few days. You never really held back when we were training.”

“Sorry to disappoint?” you offer lamely. “I just can’t figure it out.”

“Well… Have you thought about when you first activated your powers?”

“That’s just it,” you say sadly. “I don’t remember when it happened at all. So that’s not really an option for me.”

“Oh.”

You frown, and draw in on yourself. You can’t help it. You have no way to activate the powers you now know you have, and you’re in a bad place to be powerless in general. Not to mention these people are going to expect you to help, and you can’t help, and if you can’t help then-

Shinra’s hands land on your shoulders, startling you. It’s a warm touch, one that sinks into you with comfort and kindness. Shinra looks seriously at you, his red eyes bright and intent.

“Whatever happens, I know you’ll figure it out, and I’ll help you as much as I can. Even if I have to protect you in missions for now. So put your trust in me for now, okay?”

Your heart thumps hard in your chest and heat spreads through your body. It grows hotter and hotter, centering somewhere in your chest and your back.

Light blooms behind you and you barely turn your head to see a flicker of white fire over your shoulders, wings stretching over your back. They’re small, going no further down than you’re elbows and no further up than your jaw, pale and white and glowing.

You recognize the feeling in your chest with a start.

It’s care. Friendship. You want to help them. You want to fight for them and earn and keep their trust. The flickering embers of love bloom into a fire across your shoulders and flutter with undistinguished feather’s.

~ ~

A/N So! Phoenix is my favorite power, but everyone else seemed inclined towards the Sun Lance, so I smashed them both together!

If you’re so inclined, let me know what you think :D

#fire force #fire force x reader #shinra kusakabe #shinra kusakabe x reader #reader insert #enen no shouboutai x reader

45 notes · View notes

bookandcranny · 4 years ago

Text

SAUSAGE SIMULATOR 2000

A single short burst of light, sound, movement. A rhythmic throbbing of the arteries. A dry edible seed, rich in protein, belonging to the legume family. A palpitation of the neck or wrist. A common feature on a blender.

If one day you happen to find someone lying prone and unconscious, the first thing you’ll do is check for a pulse. But even when that signal, that faint tickle of motion is gone, the brain may yet live on for minutes. It may live on even longer.

summary: A surreal scifi horror set In Another Time, Another Place, in which the narrator reminisces on some events, real and dreamed, whole and fragmented, that occurred during their time attending high school alongside their best friend.

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: Insects, parental abandonment, descriptions of gore and body horror

🦗🦗🦗

We give thanks for the grain, for without it we would have no bread. We give thanks for the vermin, for without them we would have no meat. We give thanks for the machine, for without it we would have no work.

The work is to preserve the law. Without the law, the vermin would devour the grain. Without the law, the machine would devour the vermin. Without the law, man would devour the machine.

-----

Sive dissects his sandwiches layer by layer. He’s probably my best friend, but the guy is so weird sometimes. Regardless, these are the moments I remember the most.

We’re on a field trip, our entire grade; it’s one of the few times we get to hang out during school hours, since Sive is in Class C this year and I’m in A. When we break for lunch, he comes over to sit with me on the crumbling stone wall without either of us asking. I take two sandwiches out of my bag and hand him one. He peels it apart and starts licking mustard off a pallet of pink Bugmeat©️.

Maybe it’s now, maybe it’s later. The moments blend together in my recollection, blurred by the years and the medication. I seem to recall a couple of other friends from my class sitting with us, talking and laughing, but whenever Sive is around the world seems to narrow to a single point of focus. He has a way of commanding the room’s attention, with the oscillating pitch and volume of his voice and his swinging hands, illustrating the latest gossip with all the fervor of a street preacher.

In theory, I understand why some of the other kids are afraid of him. He’s taller than maybe anyone I’ve met and the way he hunches his shoulders makes him look sort of looming. The way he talks and the way he smiles, lip curling back into something more like a sneer, doesn’t help. But he’s my friend, has been since we were small, and I know he’s no more frightening than a field mouse. Besides, while he may be tall he’s also rail thin, skin sucking on his joints when he moves, now more than ever. He inhales his sandwich in seconds, even with the picking and fussing that proceeds it, so I give him half of mine too.

I kick my legs over the side of the wall, looking down at the sloping gray-green mountainside. There are a few masses of rock hovering alone, pushed and pulled by rich natural deposits of magnetic ore. I know this place, the sight of it if not the significance. My dad must have brought me once when I was little. He likes these old ruins, but I never got the appeal and can’t really be bothered to listen as the chaperoning teachers drone on and on about its history. I’ll just take some scans and make a recording to study for the test that’s sure to ensue and call it a day. Better yet, glom some notes off of Elege-- she’s got the good pods, and I know she likes me. Then Sive will glom it off of me. Circle of life.

A boy to my left, Tez Walker, unthinkingly wipes his sticky hands off on his uniform shirt. I watch him with a sort of morbid fascination and when I turn back around Sive’s looking at me like he’s waiting for my input on something.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

He rolls his eyes, big gray eyes. “My mom wired me some more money so we can go to the video park after school. You in?”

“If you’ve got money to see shows, how come I’m buying your lunch?”

“Come on, I don’t have enough for food and streams and rent.”

I hum a non-answer. “When’s your mom gonna come back anyway? Did she say anything this time?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I like living on my own anyway.” So long as nobody knows. It’s not technically legal, even though we’re both almost of age. I’m not even sure how he’s managed to keep it a secret thus far, big-mouth that he is. I might tease but I really don’t want to see him relocated to another district. It feels somewhat inevitable, with this being our last year and all, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.

“I’ll pay for the park if you use some of that money to get an exterminator,” I say, pointing at the reddened welt peaking out above his hip.

He pulls down his shirt with an almost guilty expression and laughs through his teeth. “Stop overreacting, it’s probably just acne.”

I give him a dubious look, and he meets it with another shrug.

“We eat bugs, bugs eat us. It’s only fair.” He flaps around the limp half-sandwich for emphasis.

I growl around a mouthful of my own. “Bugmeat©️ isn’t made of bugs. That’s crazy.”

“Uh huh, I think I see a leg in your teeth.”

I swing around and kick his ankle. “I’ll put a leg in your teeth.”

He laughs. He’s laughing. There’s mustard on the corner of his mouth. Yeah, these are the things I remember.

-----

I’m in study hall going over vocab with Elege when I hear the news. One of the first to know and the last to believe it, and even then I don’t trust the way the others tell it. Sive has been in fights before, I know, but only because some kids go out of their way to pick on him. They see his face and his towering stature and it makes them think there’s something to prove there. But while you wouldn’t know it to look at the two of us, I’ve always been the one to squash ticks and spiders for him while he squirms. I can’t imagine him breaking anyone’s nose, especially not without a good reason.

I want to talk to him, to get the truth, but he’s sent home on the spot and when I try to call him after class all he gives me are these curt half-answers and a warning.

“Don’t come over,” he says. He tells me I was right. There’s something in his apartment, roaches or rats or maybe some crossbred mutation of the two. Whatever they are, they're big and they’re bloodthirsty and he doesn’t want me to risk getting bit.

“If your apartment is infested you need to tell someone,” I urge him.

“If I do that, they’ll realize I’ve been living alone and try to move me. This place might be a shithole, but it’s my home.”

“What are you gonna do then?”

There’s a sound in the background of the call, like something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

Over the days that follow I keep trying to reach Sive and eventually he agrees to meet me somewhere, just not the apartment. He hasn’t finished taking care of it, I guess.

We’ve been scoping out some of the abandoned buildings in the area for a while now, looking for a suitable lair. I first had the idea after we saw this show about urban explorers and modern treasure hunters scouring the skeletons of infested districts in their glimmering kevlar. One night at the park I even manage to glom a few episodes when no one’s looking and save them to my pod.

There’s this one part: One of the crew is walking in a precarious spot when the plates shift suddenly and clamp down around his ankle, crushing it until it more resembles sausage wrung out of its casing than anything human. The man screams and one of his teammates quickly cauterizes the flowering stump with a hot blade. He cleans and binds it and they keep moving, because staying put is more dangerous than pushing on with a missing limb. Sometimes when I’m restless at night, I mute that episode and play it on loop until I fall asleep.

All this to say, it’s not such a surprise when Sive tells me to meet him at the old annex attached to the east wing of the school. Supposedly they used to hold art classes and things like that over there before it got too expensive for them to keep it up. The few remaining cameras are in poor repair and the back entrance is mangled and rusty, making for easy entry. Sometimes the local pests will try to bite you there, but things will try to bite you everywhere and a thick pair of socks resolves the issue well enough. That’s the place where we’ll meet.

But that’s not how it happens. I push past the broken lock with ease and call his name, to no answer. There’s a pink twilight settling over the campus, refracting through tall tinted panes of stained glass. I walk from one end of the building to the other until I come upon the old music room, nothing left inside it but a dusty grand piano and shards of crystalline debris that crunch under my feet. The classroom is/was built like a fishbowl, windows all along the hallway so visitors could look in on the students without letting out the music.

I pick up one big piece of glass and hold it up to the light, but when I turn it around I only see myself, staring darkly. I wait and I wander, but it’s always just me. I leave when it begins to grow dark and I hear something moving in the empty halls.

-----

That’s one thing I remember. Here’s another:

I’m walking from the bus stop with Sive, just Sive. Just us. His eyes are bright and bruised with red. There’s a new cluster of those little bumps crawling up the far side of his neck, but he keeps that side of himself turned away from me. My parents aren’t home yet and I don’t have any plans so I walk with him all the way to his building.

It’s a squat concrete cube with littler cubes inside it, just like any of them. There’s some moss or lichen or something growing in the cracks, and at this time of night it looks almost like mold.

“Do you want to go inside?” I ask, when he lingers on the steps.

He shakes his head, silent in the way he never is. Something's clearly weighing on him. We go around the back to the parking garage and climb up onto the overhang. Sitting here, on a clear night like tonight, you can see everything from the Bug Burger to the distant radio tower. The moon sits bloated and bulging against the city skyline, an egg sac fit for bursting. Sive scratches the back of his knee. Our twin breaths turn to ghosts in the February air.

Sive turns and asks me, “Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?”

“I guess.” My parents both went to the same college when they were my age, so I’ll be going there too. No reason not to turn down any advantage I can get. My grades aren’t bad, but they aren’t great either, and neither is our area code. “Did you pick a school?”

He doesn’t answer, which is an answer in and of itself. I try to change the subject and wind up spitting out the first thing I can think of.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“No.” He won’t elaborate.

“When are you coming back to school?”

“Soon.”

“Did you really fight those guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Sive looks at me annoyed and instead of answering he says, “A counselor talked to me the day I got suspended. Did you know that?”

I don't. I didn’t.

“I was leaving the principal’s office and she took me aside and told me that with my record I might want to consider a future in security.”

My breath seizes in my chest. Suddenly I feel like I’m the one who was punched. “But you’re not gonna do it, right?”

The pause that follows feels like an eternity. “Nah, of course not,” he lies.

This isn’t actually the first time we’ve spoken about this, I recall. One night, after a particularly rough exam, he says something like, “At this rate I should just volunteer for security.” It’s a careless sentence, a tactless joke, but I laugh or pretend to laugh, assured he means nothing by it.

“It’ll turn around,” I tell him, and in the moment, I mean it with all my heart.

-----

On the day Sive returns to school, he gets written up for a uniform violation. I never know for sure why. Could be anything, an untucked shirt or an ink stain seeping through his pocket. Laundry and mending costs money, money that I know he doesn’t have since he stopped letting me buy him lunch. I try, but when I bring it up he says he hasn’t been hungry, and as improbable as it sounds I don’t think it’s a lie, at least not entirely. He must have found something else to eat.

We don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it at all.

-----

“I don’t love you, not like a partner, maybe like a brother. I’ve never had a brother, or any siblings for that matter. It’s always been just me. Except not really. No one is ever really alone. All you have to do is look around, look inside. Inside, there’s all this movement, all this warmth. And you see? That’s the cause of it all. It was in us from the start. It’s not even just the food we eat or the shows we watch, it has always been there.

“Did you know? I returned to our meeting place, that great vestigial organ, but I don’t think you could see me. You only saw your own reflection. It almost made me doubt that you were ever there at all. I don’t love you, but if you asked, I’d do just about anything for you. We didn’t used to need to ask, but right now, I really wish you would.”

-----

I don’t see my friend much these days. Weeks pass, then months. Sometimes he comes to school, enough to keep the threat of investigation at bay, but-- and I don’t know how to explain this, but even when he’s here he’s also not. Or maybe he is, and he’s just hiding from me.

I keep looking for him right up until the final day, but even then we’re divided by class and I can’t pick out his face in the crowd of all our classmates. We file into the gymnasium where someone’s set up a little wooden stage with a scuffed red carpet draped over the frame and opened all the doors, filtering out some of the stifling, sweaty air and letting in the summer scents of hot asphalt mingling with freshly laid turf.

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit I don’t remember much of my highschool graduation. It seems like one of those things you’re supposed to remember, to hold and cherish years down the line, but in the moment all I know is it’s hot and crowded and I am painfully bored. The principal and vice principal stand up and give some speech while the students fiddle impatiently with their heavy, itchy robes. A girl standing in front of me quickly applies another layer of makeup to a bubbling red patch of acne on her chin. I watch her for longer than I like to admit before tearing my eyes away to search for Sive again.

He’s nowhere to be seen, but he has to be here. No one misses graduation because no one doesn’t graduate, no matter what other infractions they may have committed. My name is called, I receive my diploma, and that’s all. I return to my place and wait. I wait for one thing even as I tumble blindly towards another.

As the ceremony crawls to a close, the principal returns to the lectern at the center stage. He says,

“Before we wrap things up, I have one final announcement. This year a number of our graduates will honor their community by volunteering for the city security tract. Will the following students please come to the stage.”

My heart pounds. I know before I know, still I don’t start screaming until I hear his name get called. The animal grief punctures my lungs and bleeds out my throat in a rushing torrent, clawing and scraping. My classmates and their families all around me barely seem to react. At most they exchange some fleeting glances of pity and annoyance as I fall to my knees.

Someone touches my shoulders, to comfort or to quiet, then I’m being dragged away. Someone or many someones; I don’t know but I like to think I put up a fight. If I try hard enough, it might turn out different this time.

-----

I have this recurring nightmare sometimes. In it, I see myself, or the figment of myself projected into my own mind by an outside eye. Through that narrow watery lens, I see it/me standing in a beam of light. I’m hosting one of those nighttime shows where they used to read the lotto numbers. There’s a big lottery spinner made up of opaque, milky polygons and it tumbles with a sound like chattering teeth.

I turn the crank around and around and when the device finally spins to a stop it flails in my direction a sort of wet nozzle appendage whose shape reminds me of a shower head. I wrap my hands around its vermiform neck and wring a number from the puckered opening, but when I hold up the little white ball to call the winner, the number begins to morph and multiply into a string of numbers, and letters, and symbols I don’t recognize. I can’t divine the meaning and so I start to cry.

The ball splits open.

-----

NO NO NO NO STOP STOP IT NO NO NO STOP NO

-----

Ears ringing, vision swimming, I can barely make out my friend’s face as he steps out onto the stage. I writhe, I howl. I try to make him change his mind. Surely it’s not too late, I think. And I’m sure he hears me. He turns toward the crowd and as I’m pulled through the double doors I desperately will him to see me. He never meets my gaze.

Anyway, that’s all I remember. That, and one other thing but I promise, it will not bring you satisfaction.

-----

After I complete my first semester, I catch a train and vow to spend at least a few days pretending to enjoy my winter break back home before I ultimately retreat into the cradle of my studies. It’s strangely nostalgic to be here, even though chronologically speaking I haven’t actually been gone for very long. Time holds no dominion over feeling, however, no matter what people might tell you.

I am changed. I know that, I think I do. It’s all subjective I guess but the way I speak, the way I carry myself, even the way I dress has changed-- more pale patterned shirts, less muddy sneakers. My mom says I’m just in the process of acclimating myself to college life, that she went through the same thing when she was my age, and I don’t really have much choice but to believe her. Call it growing pains, I guess. Call it a new chapter, a fresh start. Call it anything that keeps you comfortable while you roll around in bed at night.

As I walk around the place I’ve known all my life, I find myself mesmerized by the sight of my white breath dissolving against the cornflower blue sky. I can’t remember the last time I saw a sky so clear. Maybe it’s that succoring sense of reminiscence that draws me back to the grounds of my old highschool. More realistically, it’s probably something to do with my recent change in medication. I’m technically not supposed to be walking alone like this yet; my head gets all fuzzy and I’m liable to get confused. The past bleeds into the present and back and forth and back again like a swinging pendulum, although that analogy, I realize, attaches an impression of consistency to the idea that the reality rarely lives up to.

It’s not all bad though. My focus has improved, and I’m sleeping less but I don’t feel as tired. My math scores have gone up by an average of seven points.

The path is still so familiar to me I could walk it blind, and I don’t realize just where I’ve come until I’m standing outside the front gate. It’s locked, for obvious reasons. Upon a second glance I notice that the school buildings themselves look quite different than I remember them. The dilapidated annex has finally been torn down for one thing. Disappointing. I linger regardless, tracing the perimeter, trying to put a name to this distant feeling of unease.

A shadow passes over my eyes and I smell rot. Rounding a corner I see a cluster of massive, chittering vermin gnawing on the fence where it’s gone red from oxidation. From a distance, from the right angle, their undulating black backs make it look as though the pavement is breathing.

Distantly, I know I should be afraid, but the fear doesn’t quite make it through the veil. One insectoid catches sight of me and rears back, flaring its rear wings and giving me a gurgling hiss of warning.

Before I can react, a security drone-- one of the Angel series, if I’m not mistaken-- descends upon the vermin and carves through them a gory swath of bright pink gristle. Their scattered serrated bits stay twitching where they lay. Some other dispatch from city security will be by in time to clean up the remains.

The bugs are getting so much bigger than they used to be. I have a theory about that actually, but there’s no one I feel like telling it to. It’s sad. This used to be a nice neighborhood.

The Angel series are still a pretty new breed, a hot commodity, recently introduced to the district in the wake of some new hives popping up. It’s honestly fascinating to see one up close like this, and more than a little frightening. At least eight feet of perfect patented genes, of muscle and metal, circuits like the most delicate seams running up the length of its thick fibrous limbs.

It starts to walk away, its work complete, and suddenly I feel this pressing need to stop it. It’s indescribable, the need, an emotion so strong after blank, dreamlike months that it's like a physical probing in my lower stomach. I stagger and trip in my haste, scraping the palm of my hand where I catch myself. The scent of blood emboldens some more common pests, tiny slug-like masses that poke up their pulsing head through the cracks and wriggle from the ground to get a taste. The drone exterminates them with ease as well. All the while I am searching the impassive Angel’s face for some sign of emotion, of recognition.

Bioengineering isn't exactly my field, but I’m not stupid. No, stupid's not the word-- naive. I know it may likely be only a small part of him in there, if anything at all, split into individual strands and laced throughout the makeup of a dozen distinct living machines. Security is very efficient, threshing away the superfluous husk of personality and, like a pot of simmering fat, rendering their creations down to the most basic, most useful parts. Only then are the fresh-cooked soldiers that come out the other side of this procedure truly ready to protect us.

There’s no reason to believe whatever shred of him that remains should know me. Still, selfish creature that I am, I stare into his/its featureless not-face and I search for my friend one more time. I search for big lip-curling smiles, patchy teenage stubble, gray eyes bright with laughter or tears. I would have him any way. I would have him on the worst days: dirty and hungry, bruised and bloodied and bug-bitten. I could even love him, I think. I could love him.

“Sive?” I ask. There’s a quiet rasp to my voice, a wavering uncertainty that shames me even now.

The Angel does not respond, but neither does it turn away.

“Look at me,” I beg, staring into my own reflection in the darkened visor. “Look at me.”

Another few drones drop down across the green, summoned by a signal from their kin. There’s a distressed civilian in need of escort. Of course, of course. These chimerical android creatures are almost completely identical, masses of matching sinew growing like vines around the mass-produced metal hulls, and nothing throbbing inside them but a singular purpose. I realize, abruptly, my foolishness and allow myself to be herded off the premises.

I’d like to say I looked back. Someone like me, forever sick with sentiment? Of course I would look back. That’s not what this is though. This is not closure. This is not an ending, not an exit or an epilogue. The food chain we worshiped back then was as immutable as it was self-serving, a rare form of autocannibalism that feeds everyone and nourishes no one. These still-twitching remains are, as I well know, just a memory.

#writeblr #short fiction #horror #surreal #scifi #original fiction #my writing #dystopia

42 notes · View notes

ahsoka-lives · 4 years ago

Text

Off Moon

Iris pt. 4 of my Inquisitor!Cal x Reader fic

Warnings: Cal is kind of a *ss in this, thigh riding, foreplay.

A/N: This is a big one in terms of the plot of the fic. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it!! I don’t think it’s my best but I still enjoyed the process. Please feel free to leave feedback because I absolutely love hearing from you guys!! Gif is by @water-aesthetics

Word Count: 3689

The waves of Iris crashed into the shores. The tranquil sound floated into the cracked window of the room. The glow of the lamp beside the bed filled the space with a soft yellow hue. Never have you felt such serenity, such peace. But there was something strange and unfamiliar about this place. Where were you? Why were you here?

“You’re here because I wanted you here.” Cal’s deep voice spoke into your ear bringing a gasp from your throat. His arms snaked around your waist and held you to his chest. “I can feel it. Your place is with me, no where else.”

“I can’t be with you all the time, Cal.” You try to move against his hold but it only tightens.

“This isn’t up for discussion.” He chided and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Pack a bag, I have work off moon and you’re coming. I’ll be at your apartment shortly, be ready.”

“Y/n, wake up, y/n” BD was nudging your shoulder with one of his hands as he tried to wake you. “You were talking in your sleep. Please stop, it is very annoying.”

Your droid turned and left your room, leaving you to stare at your ceiling wondering how you had a dream so vivid. It was like a memory more than a dream and you couldn’t decide if it was what you wished for or what you feared.

Sighing, you decide to take a shower and wash the feeling off of your skin. You strip and let the cool droplets of water fall over you. It soothes your tightly wound nerves and resets your mind. Knowing you had to be at work soon, you finish and quickly get dressed.

You combed through your hair before pausing over the sink. You could hear the same idyllic sound of waves from your dream, the familiarity startles you and you suddenly feel like someone was watching you. All of your motions come to a halt, your shoulders tense, and chills cover your body.

“I thought I told you to be ready, little girl.” A distorted voice scolded you. Your eyes shoot up to the mirror and behind you stands a tall Inquisitor who was dressed to kill. A black helmet shielded his entire skull, armor covered his upper torso with a white imperial branding pressed to his shoulders, black combat boots look worn down, and a saber hung from his waist.

Within seconds of his words you scream out in fear and stagger away from the man who had stepped in from the doorway and reached out to you with a menacing arm.

“Gods, calm down, y/n. It’s me! It’s Cal!” The raspy modulated voice from behind the mask rushed out as he removed it. “I forgot I had this thing on, I’m sorry.”

You were pressed to the far wall of the bathroom panting heavily from the idea of being brutally cut in half with a lightsaber. Thankfully, the fear subsided quickly as you were distracted by Cal’s appearance.

He looked kinda hot in the gear, something you hadn’t noticed when you saw him from the bridge days ago. The pants fit him well making his legs appear longer and the armor across his chest accentuated his broad stature. His eyes were his normal green and they contrasted well to the darkness of his attire.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” You ask as you begin to regain composure. His now exposed face allowed you to see his confusion at your question.

“I already told you. I have a mission off moon and you will be coming with me, we’re lucky I came to get you early or this would have made us late. Come, I will help you pack.” He explained nonchalantly before leaving you in the bathroom.

Your mind reeled at how fast all of this was happening. He never told you anything. Well, not to your face.

“That was real? How did you get in my head?” Now you were the one with a commanding voice. You couldn’t believe someone could be so bold.

He chuckled before turning on his heel to face you. He looked you up and down dropping his helmet onto your bed.

“It was very real, y/n. There are many things you don’t know about my abilities but now is not the time to talk about these things. Please collect your temper and pack, I won’t be happy if we’re late because you decided to have an attitude with me.” His voice was smooth outside of the mask but equally intimidating. His eyes hadn’t left you and the two of you seem to be locked in a staring match.

“I- I can’t just leave. I have work, I have BD-5, I-” You were cut off by Cal groaning like a frustrated teenager who just wasn’t getting his way.

“BD-5, come in here please.” He called, eyes still locked onto you.

Your droid came in seconds later.

“Sir, what can I help with?”

”Please pack a travel bag for y/n, quickly. We’ll be having a word in the other room.” Cal took your hand, swiftly carrying the two of you to your living room.

He led you in front of him and released your hand. Once again, you had no idea what his next move was and you stood there on high alert waiting for what was to come.

“You will be joining me. I had you relieved of your position-”

“You what?” Your jaw was on the floor. “Give me one good reason why I should listen to you!?” You shout in disbelief. You swore that you were ready to take him on in a fight right then and there. “Do you really think you can talk to me like a child and make decisions on my behalf just because l think you’re slightly attractive?”

“No, I think I can talk to you how I choose and make decisions on your behalf because I outrank you. You couldn’t stop me if you tried, physically or structurally. Now, stop interrupting me before I take fixing your attitude into my own hands.” He paused and leaned closer to your face, so close you could faintly feel his breath as he spoke.

“You’ve been assigned to me, you will work as my personal technician on my ships and my tech. Your salary has increased considerably and now you won’t spend every waking moment on this rock.” His voice was sweet now, but it felt taunting. “And don’t forget, my flower, I’ve seen the way you think of me. ‘Slightly' is a rude understatement.”

You were stuck between seething with rage and being mildly grateful. It was a major improvement but he was being an audacious prick.

“Fine.” You say through your teeth and look away from him.

“We leave for Kashyyyk in 15. My ship is where you last saw it” He straightened his posture and pulled gloves onto his hands. “I’m going to head down. I’ll see you shortly.” His words were a threat, your last chance to test his patience.

His hand stretched out to summon his helmet before pulling it over his head, the last piece of his intimidating ensemble.

Cal was kneeling on the ground talking to BD-1 through his mask when you got to the platform. He hoisted his companion into his separate compartment on the lower part of the ship and turned to greet you. You suddenly felt shy again, his presence was powerful and you wanted to cower away.

“Your bag.” He reached his hand out to take it from you storing it next to his.

You looked to admire the tie fighter. It was state of the art weaponry, built to be the ideal single pilot ship. Single Pilot. How hadn’t you realized earlier? The cockpit of these ships had one seat and it was fairly cramped. Your face twisted in disbelief and Cal seemed to have taken notice.

“Don’t start with me, flower.” He sounded playful now and you decided it was best not to start. Besides, what were your other options?

He rose to his feet, pulling the ladder to the cockpit down and making his way into the ship. As you reached the top of the ladder your heart started doing flips in your chest. His gloved hands helped you down onto his lap in the pilots chair.

“Comfortable?” His distorted voice asked as he released your hips and snaked his arms out to begin fiddling with the controls.

You simply nod to avoid the stutter or cracking of your voice, not wanting him to know how nervous he made you.

“Nothing to say now, y/n?” He mused, now using one arm to hold you in place against his chest. He pushed a few more buttons and pushed the central lever forward. The ship was lifting off the ground now. He skillfully steered the ship away from the facility with his free hand and before you knew it the buildings were miniature specks below.

“Alright, BD-1, take over.” He instructed releasing his hold on the steering. Both of his gloved hands moved to his helmet and revealed his face once again. “Once we reach minimum safe distance from the imperial fleet up here we will jump to hyperspace so, be prepared.” He muttered close to your ear making your breath shallow.

You acknowledge his words with a nod and relax slightly into his lap. He was radiating warmth and his arms snaked around your waist. “Still mad, flower?” His voice hummed, vibrations coming off of his chest weakened you further.

“I-I’m fine.” Your mouth was dry, you were struggling to keep composure and he wasn’t helping.

He suddenly gripped your hips and hoisted you around to straddle his waist. The movement almost made you dizzy and you felt yourself get annoyed at how much he’d man-handled you today. He's lucky he’s cute.

You were face to face with Cal. You took a moment to take in his appearance, his hair was somehow still neatly pushed back despite time in the helmet and it looked as soft as ever. As your eyes rake over his face you notice a look of concern covering his features.

"Your heart is pounding, are you a nervous flyer?” His hands were still gripping your hips tightly and your top had ridden up slightly allowing him to feel your bare skin.

You falter at his words and look away. Trying desperately to relax and ignore the feeling of arousal that came from your current position. You were flustered, pressed tightly against him feeling his thumbs trace circles on your hips. The memory of him kissing your neck was fresh in your mind and right now you all you wanted was to feel that again. But you were still so agitated with him, you weren’t used to someone being so brazen.

A gentle hand grips your chin bringing your eyes back to meet his. He’s watching you intently, eyes flickering to your lips.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just look for myself.” He muttered, watching your face intently

“I just haven’t flown in so long.” You shrug and try to keep a straight face. You were beyond comfortable flying, you even had a pilots license.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled, his smile making your stomach flutter. “I can see you don’t like being told what to do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not some prisoner for you to shove around, Cal.” Your face was scrunched in anger. You hated having this conversation while in such a compromising position.

“First of all, I don’t take prisoners.” His voice was dripping with confidence. “Secondly, prisoners don’t have the luxury of traveling throughout the galaxy with round the clock protection and someone around to meet their every need.”

“What if I told you I don’t need to be taken care of?” You were being persistent with your defiance, making him wonder what it would take for you to just give in.

“I think you’ll find that you enjoy being put first by someone that can provide for you.” He was taking his time with his words, letting each of them flow through you. “Regardless of how you feel, I feel a pull toward you and I’m trained to never ignore my instincts so I won’t. It’s not only a want, but a need. It’s up to you to cooperate or continue to test me.

A light on the control panel began blinking in front of him. It meant that BD-1 has activated the hyperdrive and there was less than thirty seconds before the ship would jolt forward and undoubtedly startle you.

“I’d say we have 15 seconds till we blip out of here. Please tell me you’re not actually a nervous flyer.” He hurried his words and secured a hand behind your back.

“Well...”

Whooosh

The ship lurched forward and you pressed further into Cal. His grip on you was tight as you buried your face in his neck. A few moments later the ship had begun to travel steadily and you feel your muscles revert back to normal. You put some distance between the two of you be leaning slightly against the control panel.

“...I’d feel much safer if I was in a chair of my own.” You finish your statement.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“We have a couple hours of flying and we will be physically stuck together for it’s entirety. You call that fun?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I call fun. It gives me plenty of time to handle your attitude before we reach our destination. I can’t have my troopers hearing the way you talk to me.” His eyes darkened as he spoke. His words were electrifying and you were starting to crave more of him.

You watched as he removed the gloves from his hands and placed them beside the seat. His now bare hands gripped your hips and pulled you forward onto his lap, the friction of his leg against your core making a wave of pleasure ripple through you.

His movements cease and he tilts his head in mock confusion. Your breath caught in your throat as you remembered his irritating habit of reading your energy signature.

“That felt good, didn’t it, flower?”

Now you wanted to scream, a recurring theme when you were with Cal. His warmth was washing over you and you could smell the musk of his cologne and the mint of his breath as he spoke tantalizing words to you. You were all but trembling in his lap, the small fantasies you’ve had about him that floated through your mind seemed dull in comparison to what was happening. Your brain felt fuzzy from the overwhelming feeling of desire, but you had no intention of giving him the satisfaction he so clearly wanted.

“Your silence doesn’t help you, y/n.” His voice was stern. One hand moved to cup the back of your neck, the other remained holding you steady. He gently moved his lips to ghost over yours, testing your restraint.

A light and soft kiss pressed to your lips. It felt like a wave of relief crashed into you as he continued to move his lips against yours. His tongue was gentle as it licked your bottom lip just before his teeth grazed over it. You were in shock at how well he knew your mouth. The hand resting behind your head had begun to fan out, his touch was firm but careful.

He separated his lips from yours with a soft groan and looked into your eyes, his hand still in place.

“Do you want to learn something new about me? About what I can do?” His question rang in your ears and all you could bring yourself to do was nod.

“Atta girl.” He muttered before looking down and blinking several times. When his eyes returned to yours they were tinted a familiar yellow. “I can usually feel a persons most significant emotion radiating from its source, right here.” He taps the base of your skull with two fingers. “Right now, you’re giving off a mess of emotions and it’s clouding my focus. But I know how to get a clear view and once I do, I can help you with your mess.”

“H-how?” You were feeling desperate and all too close to giving in.

“You just have to trust me, my flower.” He pressed another gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to help you?” He cooed.

“Y-yes, please Cal.” You whimpered. He hummed lightly as his lips ghosted over the side of your neck and you closed your eyes trying to relax your overwhelmed senses.

“All you have to do is let me into that pretty little head of yours.” He muttered as his fingertips pressed down onto the base of your skull and before you realized what he meant, he succeeded. It felt like a gust of cool air seeped under your skin as he entered your mind again. Only this time he wasn’t after a memory, this time he just wanted to know exactly what you were feeling as you trembled in his lap.

“Gods, y/n, why didn’t you tell me?” He groaned feeling each of your feelings of frustration and arousal pile into his brain. He felt how your body hummed at the way he was gripping your hips just moments before and how close you were to bubbling over.

You only whimper quietly in response, your eyes remained shut and somehow you didn’t mind this intrusion. His fingers faltered for a moment before dropping and the cool air left with his touch. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, they were now golden and shining as they stared back at you. His expression was soft as he guided your hands to rest on his shoulders before he moved his hands to your hips once again.

“Can I please help you, flower?” He pleaded with sincerity. He may have been controlling and damn near autocratic but this was one thing he didn’t want to just take.

You carried your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. His skin was soft and delicate, freckles were sparsely spread across his cheeks that were flushed a light pink. Your eyes fluttered shut once and you kissed him again, muttering ‘Please’ when your lips briefly separated from his.

He was enjoying the delicate state you were in on top of him and it made it hard for him to focus. For a moment he cursed how small the ship was, it limited his options on what to do to you, for you.

He delicately tugged on the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. The cockpit was frigid and you were sure that without the warmth coming off of your Inquisitor, you’d be shivering in no time. He hands rubbed the small of your back as his eyes took in the view. They moved up to release the clasp on your bra and let it fall to the ground below.

One hand held you firmly in place while the other massaged your breast. His tongue grazed over your other nipple and your hands reached for his hair. You moaned quietly and pulled on the strands of hair that you collected in your fist. His hand left your breast and returned to his position at your hips. He lifted you up to place one of his legs between yours.

Had you not been so consumed by his teeth pulling lightly on your nipple, you would’ve questioned him. His fingertips were digging into hips, surely to leave bruises behind on you. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your neck making your hips buck and a breathy sigh passed your lips from the friction of his thigh against your core.

“That’s it, sweet girl, just like that.” His hands guided your hips against his thigh sending pleasure rippling through you. “Let me take care of you.”

You were a whimpering mess on his lap as he carried you close to your orgasm. The tension forming in the base of your abdomen was tearing straight through any composure you held earlier.

“Cal, p-please don’t stop.” You whined in his ear, your nails scratching his strong shoulders that you held onto with a sense of urgency.

“Cum for me, flower.” His words came right beside your moans that echoed in the cockpit as you reached your high. You were blinded by the tension between your thighs being released as the man under you carried you through your orgasm. Whimpering his name you gripped the hair on the back of his head and laid your face onto his shoulder.

As the feeling faded you relaxed further against him, feeling exhausted but at ease. His arm reached into the air and brought over a hooded sweatshirt from behind him.

“Arms up.” His voice was gentle but the familiar tone of command was in his voice again. He pulled the sweatshirt over your head and you noticed that it was covered in the smell of his cologne. He tapped the outer side of your thigh and motioned for you to move. “Get comfortable, we still have an hour to go. You need to get some rest, I have work for you to do on Kashyyyk.”

You sleepily nod and sit sideways across his lap, legs dangling over the side with your face in his neck. Your eyes flutter shut and you feel his arms wrap around you.

Cal was feeling content for the first time in a very long time. He felt you beginning to trust him and that was going to be important not only for your relationship but in your work position. He finally rested his head against yours and the two of you drift off with the comfort of the other soothing you to sleep.

#cal kestis #inquisitor!cal #inquisitor cal #calquisitor #cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #star wars #part 4 #smut #thigh riding

265 notes · View notes

sugarless--girl · 4 years ago

Text

Tender Hearted Fools

Tanjirou has been hit by a demon blood art that slowly freezes his heart. Zenitsu melts it.

This was done for a Zentan Secret Santa exchange over at the 'Gentle Scent and Sound' server! It came out way longer than I intended it to be tbh. I was hurrying to finish this but it just. Kept. Building.

Well, I got it done anyhow. Unfortunately, I did not get it beta-read so apologies for any mistakes. I suck at catching my own errors so it's entirely possible I have quite a few in there. Even so, I hope it's a good read!

This was done for Lisfranc over there! I hope you enjoy it, hun!

Read on Ao3

Tanjirou didn’t know how long he had been sitting there. The demon was long gone by now but her word’s rang clearly in his head.

“I’ll make sure you regret this! Even through my death—you took what was most important from me and now—! Now I’m going to make sure you’ll never feel anything again for the rest of your life!”

He had felt sorry for her—the tears in her red eyes had caused him to pause momentarily, causing her to get an attack in. It hadn’t hurt and that was what scared him the most.

What had the demon hit him with?

The thought lingered in his head as he slumped into a sitting position. And then he stayed there.

***

His chest burned. It felt like hours. Why wasn’t he moving?

Tanjirou tried to move his fingers and they cooperated, albeit slower than he would’ve preferred. It was discomfiting. There was a chill creeping through his body that felt colder than the snow surrounding him.

But the environment didn’t help either. The wet snowflakes that fell on his skin stung. It hurt. Why did it hurt?

Tanjirou needed to get back. Nezuko was waiting for him. But would she be upset to see him give up so easily at a bit of cold? Would she hate him? The piercing chill hurt his chest even more.

What would the others think? How would they react?

Shinobu’s scent of anger would turn toward him. Inosuke would yell at him and regard him as weak. Kanao would disregard him coldly and perhaps simply say nothing. Zenitsu would…

Would Zenitsu be disappointed in him if he laid here forever?

“Get up, idiot! Don’t fall asleep in the snow!”

The frigidness eased up. Tanjirou moved forward.

***

Tanjirou would stop every now and then when the frosty chill stopped him. Somehow thinking about disappointing others would make the ice in his heart grow more pronounced. He would touch his chest every now and then found it freezing. Was it all in his mind or was it real?

Thus, he decided not to think of the others.

Instead he thought of Zenitsu. Zenitsu with his bright smile, his obvious delight when complimented, his strong thighs that came from perfecting his Thunder Breath, his lovely yellow eyes, his—his—

And suddenly Tanjirou was running back to the Butterfly manor. A laugh startled from him once he realized that the cold had receded within him.

(Now, why was it that the thought of Zenitsu solved his problem?)

***

“So, you’re saying you can move now? Despite being unable to move before?” The skepticism was clear in Shinobu’s tone. “Were you doing anything in particular before you dealt with the demon blood art?”

Tanjirou scratched his neck. Zenitsu and Inosuke were hovering nearby, both clearly worried on his behalf.

“Not really? I mean, I was thinking of Zenitsu but—”

“What?!” Zenitsu’s voice rang loud in the clinic.

“Gonpachirou, what did that demon lady look like? The Great Inosuke will defeat her for you!”

Aoi smacked the two of them. “God, shut up both of you! Shinobu-sama, do you want me to kick them out? I’ll kick them out.”

Shinobu didn’t appear to pay the three of them any mind. “You—you thought of Zenitsu? Huh.” She leaned back and looked over him with an assessing eye. Her gentle smile was gone and instead an expression of intrigue was in place.

“I—yeah. Is that weird?”

“Wh-what does that even mean?” Zenitsu’s face had a pink tint to it and Tanjirou couldn’t help but admire how it lit up his features. The smell of mortification wafted from him and he only felt a bit sorry that he had embarrassed his friend in such a way.

“It depends. Do you mind telling me about the demon once more? I believe I may have heard of her before.”

Tanjirou nodded. “Okay, well she wore...”

***

Shinobu thoughtfully tapped her chin as Tanjirou finished the description of the woman. Zenitsu watched him with wide, terrified eyes (he hated seeing his friend in distress). Aoi struggled to keep her annoyed expression on but her worried scent gave away her true thoughts. And Inosuke—well the boar head didn’t show much but his scent had vague hints of protectiveness and a whole lot of competitiveness.

It warmed him to see that his friends were still who they were. That they still cared.

(Why wouldn’t they?)

“I’ve heard of this demon before. I believe she terrorized many humans before the Demon Corps got involved. From that point on, she hid so that she wouldn’t encounter any of us.” Shinobu got up and walked to grab some medical supplies. “From what I’ve heard, her demon blood art is a slow-acting one. It slowly kills those that have been hit with it.”

“So Tanjirou’s gonna die?” Zenitsu worried his lips. The pink tongue that darted out distracted Tanjirou momentarily but Shinobu pulled his attention back once more.

“Possibly. It all depends whether or not we kill the demon first. Or—” Shinobu hesitated. “There’s a back-up option based on the rumors I’ve heard. It’s turned into a bit of a legend actually.”

“Legend?” Tanjirou prompted.

Shinobu placed the medical supplies next to him with pursed lips before quickly plastering on her typical smile. “Well, let’s not rely on any myths, okay? I’ll send out Inosuke and Kanao to take care of the demon. The two of them should be able to handle it!”

“What about Monitsu! He’s strong when he’s asleep!”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said! First of all—”

“I’ll have to keep Zenitsu around for...well, backup. There’s a couple things I need to test.” Shinobu’s smile was mysterious and her scent lost a bit of the anger before intensifying. Tanjirou didn’t know where her anger was directed at. Toward the demon? Or...toward him?

The chill started creeping back in.

“Shinobu-sama, should I help with you on the tests and such?” Aoi said, pulling Tanjirou out of his strange thoughts once more.

“Ah, yes. I’d appreciate that. Aoi. Now, off you go, Inosuke-kun! Kanao should be out in the front!” Shinobu said, smiling at the boy with a board head. She turned back to Tanjirou. “Now then, shall we get some tests done?”

***

Inosuke and Kanao were gone. Tanjirou didn’t know why he knew this but as he laid in bed with a dull ache ringing through his chest, he figured it had to do something with the blood demon art that he was stuck with.

No one was left in the infirmary. Shinobu insisted on keeping him under observation for a few days longer. Truthfully, Tanjirou felt guilty even taking up her time.

Useless.

The coldness of his inner thoughts shocked him. He blinked his eyes open and sat up on his bed. The room was dark and cold. So cold. Was it always this cold?

The warm glow coming from underneath the door seemed even more distant than usual. Tanjirou wanted to get up and go to it but he couldn’t. His body felt too heavy. The chill brought up an impervious tiredness within him. It felt impossible to fight.

He fell back onto his bed and slept fitfully.

***

Tanjirou awoke to a chill seeping through his bones, into his very core being. He shivered but the slight movement wasn’t enough to affect any of the despairing cold he felt then and there.

He heard whispering. Or rather whispered shouting. “—You need to trust Shinobu-sama! And me! She wouldn’t make you do something you absolutely didn’t have to.” That sounded a lot like Aoi and Tanjirou only confirmed moments later with his nose. For some reason, his sense of smell was dulled greatly. It was disconcerting.

“I do!” That was definitely Zenitsu. He could smell the distinct scent of peaches and peach blossoms that belonged to the lightning user. “And don’t like—you’d absolutely make me do something I didn’t have to do, just to have one up on me!”

“Okay, but this isn’t a situation I’m trying to be petty—”

“So, you admit it!”

“Shut up, idiot!” Aoi and Zenitsu both smelled tense. Tanjirou, still groggy from the sleep and chill, tried to piece together the situation. “You need to trust that I’m not trying to get back at you or something equally stupid. This isn’t the time for that.”

“But, I—”

“I know that none of this is…good.” Zenitsu let out a snort but Aoi seemed to forge on ahead. “—but Shinobu-sama believes this will save Tanjirou.”

Save him?

Zenitsu let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you sure that the demon can’t—”

“Inosuke and Kanao are doing their best on the mission. But just in case—don't give me that look! Just in case worse comes to worse, you have to do your part. You want to help Tanjirou, don’t you?”

“...God, you’re sounding more and more like Shinobu-sama everyday.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The tension seemed to diffuse from the room and Tanjirou opened his eyes figuring it to be the right time to enter the conversation.

The two stood near the doorway to the medical center. Early morning light filtered through the windows, casting delicate shadows. Tanjirou was sorry to be bundled up in his blankets as his favorite thing to see was the light weave through Zenitsu’s blonde hair. They looked especially luminescent in the morning hours. But the chill gripped him and he stayed in bed under many layers of blankets.

“Aoi, I don’t know if I can do this.” Zenitsu sounded so defeated. Tanjirou wanted to scoop him up and bundle him in his own blankets. Perhaps cuddle with him near a fire.

“You can and you will.” Aoi sounded confident at least.

“Do what?” Tanjirou asked, breaking into the conversation. It was best to let them know he had been eavesdropping after all. He hadn’t meant to let it continue this long but the grogginess of waking up and the coldness crawling through his veins made him slow to react.

Zenitsu let out a shriek that earned a yelp of surprise from Aoi. The girl smacked Zenitsu on the arm (she could only reach up there when they both were standing upright) in retaliation.

“T-tanjirou! How much did you hear?”

“Tanjirou, how are you feeling?” Aoi said, cutting off Zenitsu as she went to Tanjirou’s side. She laid a hand on his forehead, withdrawing it almost immediately. “Wow, you’re—”

“Cold.” Tanjirou said, punctuating it with a weak laugh. “I think this is the demon blood art—”

“I was there yesterday, too, you know.” Aoi said, making her way to the medical equipment stored in the cabinets. As she prepared for the tests, Zenitsu made his way to Tanjirou’s cot. The brunette didn’t want to leave the relative warmth of his blankets (relative, as it was hardly enough) but he put out a hand for Zenitsu, regardless.

The young blonde man only hesitated for a moment, before taking it. He winced at the icy grip of Tanjirou’s fingers but didn’t pull away. For that, Tanjirou shot him a smile.

Zenitsu looked even more upset.

“Are you okay?” He asked which seemed to upset Zenitsu even more.

“Am I okay?! I should be asking you that! Shinobu-sama said that you’re suffering from some fucked up revenge curse from the demon!”

“I mean, I think it’s just a blood art thing? But it should be taken care of once Inosuke and Kanao capture her.”

Zenitsu’s eyes fell. “You heard us.” He sounded stricken.

“J-just a little. I heard that you have to do something and those two went to take care of the demon in the meantime. I’m really sorry about that. I promise, I’ll try to be more careful next time.” Tanjirou clutched and Zenitsu’s hands more tightly and felt a gentle squeeze back in return.

“Alright...that’s fine I guess. But, Tanjirou—! Aren’t you—! Isn’t it—!” None of his statements followed through but Tanjirou waited patiently all the same.

“I’m fine, Zenitsu.” The blonde shot him a murderous glare. Tanjirou could only laugh as Zenitsu’s glare was really adorable. Like a kitten trying to look scary—the lightning user was only ever intimidating in battle. And even then, that was more cool than anything. “Okay, okay, I’m not totally fine. But Shinobu-sama will figure it out, right? If not her, then Kanao and Inosuke will deal with the demon and that should solve whatever ‘curse’ thing I’m stuck with.”

Zenitsu didn’t look convinced. Instead, his scent seemed to grow more distressed.

Tanjirou frowned. He hated seeing the other stress. (Although, Zenitsu constantly stressed about everything, so really, Tanjirou was asking for a lot here.)

“Alright, sit up.” Aoi said, interrupting whatever Zenitsu was about to say. He looked relieved and disappointed all at once. “Let’s run some tests and then get some food in you. Sound good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that. As long as it’s, ah, warm?”

“Way ahead of you. Zenitsu, are you staying?” Aoi shot the other boy with a significant look. Zenitsu dithered before pulling a chair beside Tanjirou’s bedside.

Strange. Aoi hated it when Zenitsu (and Inosuke) hovered over her shoulder as she did her work. But Tanjirou wasn’t going to question it, now. Not when Zenitsu’s company appeared to help him fight the chill. Or maybe the cold had all been in his mind? That certainly was a possibility.

Either way, Zenitsu’s company was...nice. And Tanjirou appreciated it.

He shot Zenitsu a beaming smile, ignoring the icy grip on his heart. Zenitsu returned it, albeit weaker than usual. Strange that Tanjirou’s heart stuttered at that.

***

Tanjirou woke up with a start. He was freezing. He had been sleeping so much. He was just so cold.

The dream lingered in his mind even after he shook the grogginess away. Usually they slipped by fast. But this time it felt as though it was impossible to shake off.

“How about I show you what betrayal I faced? The unrequited feelings I dealt with? I didn’t deserve any of this! And yet—I’m still here!” The demon’s words prior to her attack rang in Tanjirou’s head, loud and clear. The pain was evident in her cold features. But it was her following words that were the most notable to the demon slayer.

“You won’t be able to feel anything after I’m through with you! Nothing will save you from my blood art! Not even a lover’s touch!”

Had she said that? Why couldn’t he remember?

What was happening?

“Tanjirou?” Zenitsu entered the room. “Are you alright? I heard a—”

“I’m fine!”

Zenitsu smiled and cold grew even more pronounced.

“A-are you sure? You know you can tell me anything…”

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Tanjirou sighed. “I just woke up from a nightmare. I don’t—I don’t really know what to make of it.”

“What was it about?” Zenitsu said, stepping closer. Tanjirou smiled.

“Um, it’s a bit depressing? Maybe—”

“You don’t have to talk about it! I was just giving you the option!” Zenitsu came to sit beside Tanjirou’s bed. With him so close, Tanjirou could feel the warmth of his proximity. Were lightning-breath users normally this warm? Electricity burned stuff, right?

“Thanks Zenitsu! But really, I’d rather not linger on it you know?” The dream had been disconcerting. “Why don’t you tell me about your day instead?”

“Are you sure?” The worry was evident on Zenitsu’s face. Tanjirou wanted to brush away the stress lines that were already forming. He didn’t want his friend to worry so much. “I mean, if you wanna hear about Aoi bullying me then alright.”

“It’s more interesting than what I’ve been doing.” Tanjirou said with an easy smile. It was odd at how he was able to smile despite the nightmare he had just felt.

“Okay, so Aoi thinks that my hair is fake so she—”

Tanjirou felt lighter than ever listening to Zenitsu’s story. But something still tugged at his heart.

***

Tanjirou woke up.

It was starting to get tiring to wake up to a dead coldness in his bones. He hoped Inosuke and Kanao could make their expedition faster as the chill was getting more and more unbearable.

He couldn’t muster it in him to move until the scent of peaches hit his nose. How did he notice it before?

“Zenitsu?” He called out, voice quiet. It was becoming difficult to get a grasp on the time due to how much he was sleeping. He could differentiate between day and night but it was difficult to tell what time it actually was.

The room was dark and he could barely make out the silhouette of his friend. Zenitsu’s head appeared to be slumped over on the bed covers, his arms serving as pillows. Tanjirou could barely make out the blonde hair but he reached out and touched it.

It felt soft. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him—Zenitsu took care of himself pretty well. Perhaps he expected the jagged locks to feel harsh due to the way it was cut but that clearly wasn’t the case. Something tight in him unfurled as Zenitsu let out a puff of air, snuggling into the bed covers.

Tanjirou moved, ready to pull Zenitsu into his bed—surely it wasn’t comfortable sleeping like this—and winced. God, it hurt. It hurt so much.

The inner corners of his eyes pricked with involuntary tears of pain. He gritted his teeth as an icy sharpness kept hammering at his chest.

He didn’t realize how shallow his breathing was until he felt an arm on his back stroking him. “Breath, Tanjirou. Come on, you know how to do it. Breath with me.”

“I—” But Tanjirou couldn’t choke out any more words.

The arm on him drew back and Tanjirou felt even colder.

“Tanjirou, c-can I—” Zenitsu began, waiting for permission that Tanjirou didn’t understand. Somehow he just felt hurt.

Tanjirou clutched at his chest when he felt the bed shift. He felt arms encircle him and Zenitsu pulled Tanjirou’s head to rest against his chest. He could smell the scent of embarrassment wafting off of him but Zenitsu held him tight.

Being in his arms was like being inside a kotetsu. Or taking a warm bath. Or coming back home. It felt like all of those things and more.

The room was quiet. Until Zenitsu coughed. “U-um, does this help?”

Tanjirou blinked. The sharpness in his chest receded. “Yes? I mean, it does. Huh.” He pulled back and immediately winced, the pain coming back immediately.

“Wait, hold on!” Zenitsu moved to settle in the bed next to Tanjirou and pulled him back in his arms once he was positioned comfortably. “Shinobu-sama said that, uh, cuddling helps?”

“Really?”

“T-the legends, say that you know….”

“What do they say?” He wished he had heard of the legends prior to meeting the demon. Maybe he should’ve done more reconnaissance in the area before he decided to fight her.

“Well, um, that being close to people helps?” Zenitsu’s voice sounded unsure. If that didn’t give it away, his scent held a tinge of deception beneath it. Tanjirou wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t an intolerable smell, but it felt….wrong coming from Zenitsu. “Do you feel better?”

“...yeah, actually. Did Shinobu-sama tell you anything else about the legend? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“You were sleeping! It would’ve been bad to disturb you!”

That sounded too much like an excuse and it was apparent that both of them were aware of this as Zenitsu brushed it aside and moved ahead.

“Anyway! You should go back to sleep. Shinobu-sama said that conserving your energy was the most important thing to do while we wait on Inosuke and Kanao. And don’t argue with me!”

“I wasn’t going to.” Tanjirou said with a slight chuckle. It was muffled as he circled his arms around Zenitsu’s waist. God, he was so warm. “I promise, I’m doing my best to rest. It’s just—well, everything just feels so cold, you know?”

“...I’m sorry you’re dealing with this on your own. I should’ve been there to—!”

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s this about? I was sent on a mission and I got caught up in it. It’s not like you could’ve predicted my failure.” Even as he said this, he felt a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest.

“Tanjirou? Are you—?”

“Hold on.” Tanjirou muttered. He slowed his breathing until the pain receded. His breath helped him focus on Zenitsu’s peach blossom scent which centered and anchored him.

They continued to clutch each other—Tanjirou, like a man hanging onto a life raft, and Zenitsu, terrified and shaken.

“Y-your heart. It sounds….muffled. I mean, your sound is always so—it’s always there but this time it’s not and-and it’s just so—”

Zenitsu was truly scared for him. This shouldn’t have warmed Tanjirou so much but it did all the same.

“I’m sorry—”

“Why are you apologizing! Stupid Tanjirou!”

“But, I am! I didn’t mean to worry you!”

“You’re not worrying me, idiot!”

“But, I can smell it on you?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop smelling me?? Why do you keep doing things like this!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Tanjirou said, punctuating his apology with a laugh.

“Hmph.” Zenitsu pouted but he pulled Tanjirou closer all the same. “I’m not going to forgive you until you learn to take better care of yourself.”

“Alright, I’ll be more careful next time.”

“You’d better be! You can’t leave Nezuko-chan behind with your carelessness! Who’s supposed to take care of her if you die? Me and Inosuke?? We don’t know how to take care of girls! Inosuke would probably teach her all the wrong things! And Shinobu-sama is too busy! Kanao and Aoi maybe but...” Zenitsu began muttering under his breath how well of job Kanao and Aoi would do, coming to the conclusion that no would take care of Nezuko as well as Tanjirou did.

Tanjirou blinked. When had Zenitsu changed his song from ‘marrying Nezuko and taking care of her’ to just ‘taking care of her?’

“You don’t want to marry her, anymore?” He blurted out, unable to keep the surprise from his tone.

Zenitsu stopped and stared at Tanjirou, eyes wide. “You—what? You think I still….like Nezuko-chan?”

“Yes?” The two continued to stare at each other before Zenitsu snorted and flopped back onto the bed, taking Tanjirou with him.

“I shouldn’t be surprised but I am.” Zenitsu sighed. “I don’t like Nezuko like that anymore. I mean, she’s great and all but…”

“But what?”

“...nevermind. Anyway, Tanjirou! It’s time for you to sleep!”

“I wanna hear the rest of what you were about to say!”

“Who says I have more to say??”

“Don’t you?”

“Just go to sleep Tanjirou!” Tanjirou stared. Zenitsu was underneath him and Tanjirou’s chin was on the other boy’s chest. “W-what?”

“Are you gonna stay?” The stinging sensation in his chest sharpened but not so much it was unbearable.

“I-I, yeah. If that’s okay with you?” Zenitsu appeared strangely shy all of sudden. But Tanjirou wasn’t about to make him feel self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Absolutely. Do you wanna talk or—”

“Sleep, Tanjirou!” Zenitsu huffed, a bit of fire returning to him. Tanjirou wished there was more light so he could see the golden sparks in his eyes. “You need to rest!”

“Okay, okay.” Tanjirou conceded, moving to get comfortable. Zenitsu didn’t let go of him once. It should’ve occurred to how odd it was to cuddle with a friend like this but it felt so natural, so right that he didn’t bother to stop and think. Why would he when it all felt like a dream?

They were both on their sides, Tanjirou with his arms around Zenitsu’s waist and the other boy’s arms around his shoulder’s cradling Tanjirou to his chest. It felt warm. It felt right.

“Night, Zenitsu.”

“...Night, Tanjirou.”

***

Tanjirou woke up. It was freezing. He bolted up as a piercing sting shot through his chest.

God, he was so tired of this. How many times over was this going to happen to him? When would Inosuke and Kanao finish the demon off? Was he becoming more callous with time?

“Tanjirou?” Zenitsu mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, trying to make out Tanjirou’s expression through the cutting darkness.

Tanjirou couldn’t speak. He could barely even breath. Even his breathing techniques weren’t helping him here. Real panic was crawling up his skin and pinpricks of cold sweat dotted his pores.

“Tanjirou?” Zenitsu said, louder now. He got up and took Tanjirou’s icy hands into his. “What’s wrong? Your hands are freezing!”

“I-I—”

“Can you—what’s—” Zenitsu’s anxiety was contagious. Normally, it wasn’t—Tanjirou could easily balance out Zenitsu’s neuroticism—but this time he felt every single emotion the blonde was facing.

“Zen—” He could barely make out another word before Zenitsu took his face and kissed him.

Immediately, the bitter cold subsided.

Tanjirou let out a gasping breath, trying to suck in as much air as possible. He pulled back and stared at Zenitsu incredulously. “Zenitsu, wh—”

“It’s because of the legends!” Zenitsu’s face was now beet red. “The legends are, you know…..”

Tanjirou continued to stare, gobsmacked.

Zenitsu looked up through his lashes. The beginning of light was making its way into the infirmary. It wasn’t coming fast enough as Tanjirou wanted to drink Zenitsu's every expression. His heart was pounding fast, the rhythm seemingly melting whatever demonic curse was cast on him.

The glacial presence in his chest no longer seemed to be chipping away at him. Tanjirou didn’t even pay attention to whatever numbness was left.

“What—” Tanjirou licked his lips, chasing the taste of Zenitsu before continuing. “What legends?”

“Shinobu-sama said that-that the demon, she—” Zenitsu appeared unable to parse through his thoughts but Tanjirou wasn’t about to interrupt him. He wanted to know what that kiss had meant. “T-the legends say that she terrorized people because she lost someone she loved. And because she’s a huge romantic, or whatever, the only thing that could break her curse is a loved one’s kiss, or whatever. Personally, I think a condition is dumb—”

“You love me?”

“I—Tanjirou!”

“Y-you said, true love’s kiss could break the curse and—”

“I said a loved one’s kiss! That’s not the same!”

“But do you—do you love me?” Tanjirou could barely get the words out. He was terrified.

“I—I guess….”

“You guess? You’re not sure?”

“Okay fine! I like you!” Zenitsu glared at him but it was somewhat ineffective due to the sheer embarrassment radiating off of him. “I….sorta even, maybe, love you.”

Tanjirou stared, hardly believing his luck.

This didn’t seem real. He didn’t feel deserving of this. Zenitsu, shouldn’t have—He didn’t realize he’d ever be given something so precious like this. But, all the same...

“Wh—Tanjirou! Why are you crying?” Zenitsu flailed, worry obviously etched onto his face.

“I’m not sad, don’t worry.” Tanjirou said, rubbing away the sudden tears. It had been unexpected and caught him off-guard. But he felt relieved all the same.

The ice frozen around his heart was fully gone. It didn’t register to Tanjirou, at least not consciously. He just felt...fulfilled.

“I thought—” Zenitsu started but Tanjirou cut him off with a quick kiss.

He pulled back, almost immediately. “Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t help it! Was that okay? I should’ve asked.”

Now it was Zenitsu’s turn to look shocked. “I—I just confessed to you! And now you’re asking me if it’s okay to kiss me?”

“Well, it’s important to ask for permission. Right?” Tanjirous asked with a teasing smile. Zenitsu just pursed his lips.

“Okay but are you accepting it or—?”

“I like you too, Zenitsu. I like you a lot, actually. It’s probably love but I’m not too sure.”

“Not too sure??” Zenitsu looked a mix of annoyed and pleased. “What do you mean you’re not too sure??”

“I mean, it just occurred to me that what I felt for you was, well, romantic. I guess, I didn’t connect the dots until you mentioned it.”

Zenitsu just stared. “So, you just figured it out…?”

“Uh, I think so?” Tanjirou let out a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, I thought you liked Nezuko this whole time! So, I guess I just didn’t let myself...feel for you in that way. But it’s okay! It happened anyway!”

“...You are unbelievable.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Zenitsu simply answered him with a kiss.

#zentan #zenitsu agatsuma #kamado tanjirō #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #not too sure what else to tag this tbh #love confessions #god this was hard to write but I'm glad I got it done

19 notes · View notes

alit0my · 4 years ago

Note

You know those fanfics, 5 times (something) plus 1. So five times someone on the team taught Booker something. And since it was he who taught. (maybe with OT3) {for example: teaching a language, cooking, fighting with a sword}

hello anon! idek if you still want this fic bc its been so long... but i have finished it! no ot3 this time im afraid, just didnt fit well with where i took this... hope you enjoy!

1 - Russia, 1812

When they first found him in Russia, they barely understood one another and had to use Andromache’s passable French to communicate. The Asian woman beside her named Quynh stared at him, as if looking into his soul as he gasped out words of conversation as he recovered from another hypothermic shock. The two men were paired off, keeping a close eye on their surroundings and ignoring the conversation altogether as they did not understand.

”The first thing we will do,” Andy said, handing another wooly coat his way. ”Is teach you a language we can all speak.”

”Like hell you will. I’m to return to my family,” he replied, wrapping the coat around him tighter. Andy shook her head and huffed, glancing at Quynh beside her.

”When you return in fifty years, when your family is dead, we will teach you Russian.”

”Or you could learn better French,” Booker snapped, cursing the entire world under his breath as his limbs shook uncontrollably.

The corners of Andy’s lips curled upwards slightly.

(Back then, Booker paid no mind to this. But now, he knew it was the introduction to Andy’s competitive side.)

It was thirty-eight years later when Booker returned. Andy had gotten better at French, and Booker grumbled at the fact that he now had to learn Russian, as per their unofficial agreement.

He wasn’t half bad at Russian, but he wasn’t particularly good at it either.

~ 2 - Italy, 1850

As he returned to the group after the passing of his son, the last of his true family, Quynh pulled Booker aside and placed a bow in his hands. She watched as he pulled the bow string back slightly, testing the recoil of the weapon as if he was examining its limits. Booker was just trying to not break the thing.

Quynh was scary, and Booker did not want to mess with her.

”Now aim at the target,” she had told him, nodding her head to the tree as she placed an arrow in his other hand. ,em>”Aim, and fire.”

Booker did as he was told.

Booker missed the tree by a mile.

Quynh tutted and put her hands on her hips, before taking another arrow out of the quiver on her back.

”Try again,” she said, almost encouragingly. ”We have time. I’ll make sure you can handle a bow almost as good as me.”

Booker ended up being half as good as Quynh, which they both saw as an achievement.

(He could never be as good at archery as Quynh, but it was the thought that counted at the time. Really, Booker should have been grateful for the distraction.)

~ 3 - Japan, 1894

Nicky was sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his sniper rifle when Booker walked in, still half asleep. Pausing in his tracks, Booker rubbed at his eyes and looked at the weapon on the table, never having really seen it out of its case which Nicky kept stored under his bed in their various safehouses.

Nicky looked up at locked eyes with the youngest, beckoning him over to sit beside him.

”I will show you how to clean this, and then if you want, how to use it,” Nicky said, picking up the scope and rubbing the rag gently across the glass. Booker nodded and watched silently before Nicky handed him a part and a new rag. ”Gently, don’t rush or you may scratch the metal.”

Booker wasn’t sure how a piece of cloth would scratch metal, but he dared not say. Nicky was allowing him into his space, to help clean his most prized possession.

When the weapon was cleaned, Nicky showed Booker how to reassemble the rifle before picking it up and beckoning him outside.

”We will set up here, and I will teach you how to shoot,” Nicky explained as he set up the tripod that would hold the barrel steady. ”Come, look down the scope.”

Booker could not see a thing, and Nicky gently nudged his head until he gasped, suddenly seeing the tin can in the distance.

”Now line it up, and shoot.”

Booker missed, but Nicky’s eyes gleamed.

(It was something that Booker looked back on fondly as he sat in his French apartment surrounded by booze.)

~ 4 - Egypt, 1948

”Where is your sword, Booker?” Joe exclaimed whenever they were gearing up for a mission. Booker looked at him then the others, who all had a sword strapped to their bodies whereas he only had an assault rifle and a handgun.

”I.. Don’t have one?”

Joe scoffed. ”I will change that. When we are done I will teach you how to wield a sword.”

Booker objected, which fell upon dead ears as the team went back to gathering their gear. Furrowing his brow, Booker looked down at his assault rifle and started to feel anxious. Was knowing how to wield a sword some kind of necessity to be in this strange team of immortals?

(He found out later, the next day in fact, when Joe had woken him up at the break of dawn with his scimitar in one hand and a longsword in the other. Joe was always the early riser, and the most energetic. Booker missed him the most.)

”Here, I will train you the art of the sword,” Joe smiled, but Booker could see the excitement shining through his eyes. ”Try to strike me.”

Booker looked at him incredulously, but swung the blade at him.

He ended up on his ass with Joe standing above him, scimitar pressed lightly on his throat.

”You take too big of a swing, leaves too much gap for the enemy to strike,” Joe explained, removing the weapon from Booker’s neck and holding a hand out to help him up. ”This will be fun. Bonding, if you will.”

”Joe, no one even uses swords anymore?”

Booker ended up on his ass again, in record time.

~ +1 - France, 2020

Booker hadn’t heard from them in six months, as per their non-contact rule, but he hadn’t expected a package to arrive at his front door with his alias on it. Curious, he placed his glass of water (which still tasted of whiskey from the night before) on the counter and picked up the box, setting it down on his kitchen table.

He stared at it for a while, not sure what to make of it as he decided to rip open the box before he could change his mind. Inside were a bunch of letters each with his name written in different handwriting, a few pictures and five small magnets that represented each member of the team.

Booker picked up the first letter from Andy, skimming through the words quickly before the tears fell on the paper and ruined it for good.

’...miss you Book…...Nile’s idea to……..considered your biological family……….struggling to cope……..should have listened to you more, and for that I’m so sorry. You taught me that there is more to life than what we do, and I should have seen that back in the 1800’s and not belittled you for it. I love you Book, see you soon.’

Quynh’s letter was short as sweet, but mainly contained phrases in many languages calling him a dumbass and pictures of him practising with the bow.

’Next time, maybe try to be a perfect shot before you decide to cross us you moron…….I hope you have improved with your bow I gave you, oh wait you left it in England and some historian took it to the museum because it is so ancient…..You better get me my bow back you absolute- Nile has been reading over my shoulder this whole time and now I’m going to write some good things about you…

‘How to start? What is good about you, Booker? You reminded me that not everyone is good at something first go, and that they deserve the effort and time you put into them. You ended up being a good shot and it only took you ten years! The others took twice as long. We will have a competition when you return, so keep those archery skills sharp, my friend.’

The next letter was from both Joe and Nicky, and Booker smiled softly to himself. Never to be separated, those two, and he was a fool to think otherwise.

’Nicky does not want to write you a letter, so I will write for both of us. This was Nile’s idea, sending you this little ‘care-package’ as she called it, but do not think this is an olive branch. We are grateful for you, Book, and since you turned up our lives have been somewhat exciting. Our separate and joint experiences in teaching you things has brought us both enjoyable memories, and though somewhat tainted by your actions, upon your return we would like to teach you more new things as we teach Nile. Maybe you might actually improve on your skills for once.

We both love you dearly.’

Booker sniffled and separated the picture enclosed within the letter. It was a capture of when Nicky was teaching him how to cook proper spaghetti bolognese, after he found out that Booker was using jar sauce and packet pasta. Booker remembered getting scolded all night in Italian, and when he told Nicky he understood, the response he got was ”Good. I should hope so."

Nile didn’t write a letter, but she didn’t need to write one. They only knew each other for two weeks before shit hit the fan and Booker was sent away. Instead, in Nile’s envelope was a tiny slip of paper with a phone number on it, along with some fliers for activities to do around Paris.

’Call me anytime, I’m here to chat. Also, don’t mope about for a hundred years, do something! Learn a new skill! (Okay, that might be hard but just do it, maybe bake some sourdough? You love that stuff!)’

Booker took the magnets out of the box, walked over to his fridge and placed them in a circle with a small click!, his heart panging every time.

Bow and arrow, two swords, a labrys, and a handgun with a US flag.

AO3 Link

#the old guard #booker #booker centric #4 + 1 things

9 notes · View notes

beautiful-de4mity · 4 years ago

Text

[Alice Nine Fanfiction] ASYLUM (Chapter 2)

Chapter 02 [Vulnerable]

Author: beautiful-de4mity

Fandom: Alice Nine

A/n: I’m happy to be this productive and excited on writing again! I actually overdid the research on this theme and one of my readers told me not to put too detailed things since this is only a piece of fanfiction 😂 in the next chapters, I’m trying to focus more on the relationships between characters. Ganbarimasu!

Inspired song: ASYLUM from PLANET NINE Album

Disclaimer: Can we all agree that Alice Nine’s bonds are so wonderful we can literally ship every member with anyone? /I’m talking trash lol

The wall clock in his office points at ‘one’ in the morning but Amano Tora is still enjoying the online game The Last of Us, which he plays with some friends through his customized PC. It was a tiring day in fact as the hospital research team was running a series of tests and monitoring on Saga and the poor boy doesn’t seem to be in a good condition. Saga was being a handful today; kept fighting back and trying to escape from the running procedures. Finally, they had to completely sedate Saga and put him to sleep forcefully after his attempt to strangle one of the doctors. Tora exhales instinctively as the scene flashes through his mind, distracting his focus from the game until his friends’ panic yelp are heard through the headphones.

“Warui, warui,” Tora picks back his focus on the game.

Tora finishes the game thirty minutes later, placing the headphones on the keyboard and taking off his glasses. The young doctor leans back on the chair, massaging the bridge of his nose and exhales for the umpteenth time. The corner of his eye catches Saga’s assessment chart, which is still empty since this afternoon since everything went off plan. Tora somewhat feels relieved for Ohara Shou, the psychology student he was involved in researching Saga’s case, reported that he couldn’t come because of a group assignment today. Tora doesn’t want to scare Shou by seeing Saga went berserk and change his mind. Tora is really fond of Shou’s research proposal, it is very potential and promising.

The hospital corridor in the psychiatric ward is deserted, of course, it is almost dawn. Only a few people from the night shift remaining, chatting in the administration section sipping coffee. Tora smiles when several nurses greet him and giggle, making him shake his head as he enters the toilet. It is a public secret that Amano Tora becomes the idol of the female staffs in the psychiatric ward, even staffs from other departments throughout this hospital know him. Even so, Tora is not interested in dating anyone at all. Currently, work and games are two aspects of his life that he can’t abandon.

Tora pauses for a moment at the turn of the corridor upon returning from the toilet, staring at the door of Saga’s room several meters ahead where the young man is still sleeping under the anesthetic effect. Tora’s wondering if he should check on the poor boy’s condition even though he could just go to the monitor room to look through the CCTV. The young doctor finally walks over to Saga’s room and peeks through the glass window. Tora’s forehead frowned when he finds out Saga is writhing restlessly on his bed as if he is struggling to escape from something. Was he tied up earlier? Tora hurriedly pasts his ID to unlock the door, he then darts next to Saga’s bed and more surprised to find Saga’s shaking drenched in sweat. The young man seemed to be trying hard to fight something in his sleep but could not scream for someone to wake him up.

“Saga,” Tora kneels beside the bed and tries to wake his patient. “Saga, are you okay?” as slowly as possible, Tora shakes Saga’s body so that he won’t be startled or terrified.

Saga is trembling badly that Tora feels the need to grab onto Saga’s thin shoulders to prevent him from falling off the bed. Saga looks like he is trying to fight something terrible in his sleep, Tora can see clearly the expression of fear even though Saga’s eyes are closed. Saga clenches his jaws tightly, holding back the screams while both of his hands groping for the air almost punch Tora’s face. Just when Tora decides to force Saga to wake up, both of Saga’s eyelids opened. In the dark. Tora catch the glint of tears pooling down his dark irises. With a broken breath, Saga jolts up and immediately grabs Tora’s neck, hugging him very tightly as if he intends to break the young doctor’s neck. Tora tries not to make any sudden movements that can trigger Saga to panic even though his neck starts to ache.

Cautiously, Tora got up from his kneeling position and sits on the edge of Saga’s bed while Saga still clinging onto him like a Koala. Tora can feel Saga’s ferocious heartbeat, so fast that it might explode at any moment even though his body gradually stops shaking while his white clothes are soaked with sweat.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Tora pats Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

Saga buries his face in Tora’s shoulder more deeply, not making a sound.

“You had a nightmare?” asks Tora, followed by a small nod as the answer.

The young doctor fixes his position so that Saga can calm himself faster, while Saga himself feels a little confused about his own reaction: clinging on Tora as if Tora is a magnetic field. Come to think of it since the beginning of his arrival at this hospital’s psychiatric ward, Amano Tora is the only person who makes him feel safe and Saga doesn’t mind at all having any kind of contact with him. Even at this moment, Saga can clearly smell the faint scent of Tora’s perfume mixed with trail of tobacco, oddly helps him to calm down.

“I’ll leave when you can sleep again,” Tora breaks the silence when the sound of their breaths is the only sound heard in the room a few moments later.

Saga quickly shakes his head, gripping the front of Tora’s shirt to indicate the young doctor not to leave him. The response makes Tora’s brows furrowed in surprise. Indeed, all this time Saga has always shown a rather sweet, cooperative-good boy attitude to him, but he does not expect Saga to be this vulnerable with him when Saga usually guarded and distance himself from people. Tora takes notes carefully in his mind about Saga’s current behavior to be written later on the assessment chart he left on his desk.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” again, Tora strokes Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

For the first time in three months under his specialist care, Saga shows signs that he is starting to trust Tora. If Saga could tell Tora directly about how the young doctor make him feel safe and at ease whenever Tora is around, maybe Tora wouldn’t have been wondering this much. Saga manages to go back to sleep around three a.m. in the morning. Tora’s body feels so beaten up and he almost gives up temptation to fall asleep beside Saga. But he can’t let people find him sleeping while having his patient on his arms like that afterall.

***

Ogata Hiroto, a petite-built art student with flaming blonde hair, is pacing back and forth with a confused look of a typically lost child in the psychology faculty library building in his search for Shou. For several days, he had gone back and forth to the psychology faculty to find his senior, but the results were always to no avail. Shou didn’t reply to his LINE, didn’t update his YouTube channel, and didn’t update his Instagram for three days in a row, Hiroto was worried. Hiroto’s gaze finds a flash of Shou’s somewhat disheveled brunette hair on the desk next to “Journal Publications” section shelves, appearing star-like sparkling effect in the cute young man’s eyes.

“Shou yaaaaaan!” Hiroto’s excited voice and the sight of him running happily towards Shou, drawing all of the library visitors’ attention. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” Hiroto gives a shy bow as people stare at him with blasphemous looks.

Shou looks up from his notebook and journal print outs that are scattered on the table, he smiles sweetly at Hiroto. Shou’s face is slightly pale with trace of dark circles under his eyes, and overall he looks unusually scruffy. Hiroto is anxious and astonished as he sits next to Shou.

“Shou yan, are you okay? Shou yan sick or something?“ Hiroto’s eyebrows knitted, observing Shou’s unusual appearance from head to toe.

"No, I’m just having bunch of assignments,” Shou replies softly, putting down the pen he is still holding and now focusing on Hiroto completely. “What brings you here?”

Hiroto pouts, “I’ve been looking for you for the past three days, you know! Shou yan didn’t reply to my LINE, didn’t post anything on SNS even though usually you upload something regularly,” the cute young man sulks.

Shou ruffles Hiroto’s blonde hair exasperatedly, “Sorry, I’m really busy lately because the midterm exam right around the corner and Amano sensei has just invited me to join his research team,” explains the beautiful-eyed young man, his face flushes with joy when he mentioned ‘Amano sensei’.

“Who is Amano sensei?” noticing the unusual glow in Shou’s face makes Hiroto feel uneasy.

“Oh, him,” Shou’s face which was slightly pale now beamed. “He’s a neuropsychiatric at the private central hospital in Shibuya. When I was a freshman, the faculty invited him to be one of the speakers and since then I have been interested in doing research in neuropsychiatry. A few days ago I sent my research proposal on mutism and asked him to be the instrument validator. Surprisingly, he then recruited me to the hospital research team that currently is handling a case of mutism,“ Shou explains enthusiastically.

Hiroto feels a faint twinge in his chest as he notices the gleam of admiration for the doctor named Amano in Shou’s beautiful eyes. He says nothing more and lets Shou back on scrutinizing the notebooks and journals he has been reading after promising Hiroto to have lunch together. Shou looks so excited despite being exhausted, thought Hiroto, surely Shou really admires that Amano guy. Without Shou noticing, Hiroto is now watching him closely with his chin rests on his hand. Hiroto plays the memory where they first met inside his head. Shou was his two-year-older senior in high school. Shou is popular, student’s committee president, and also worked as a model for several local magazines. He’s always been so charming and stylish plus having brilliant personality that no one can resist.

It could be said that Shou saved Hiroto’s high school life. Being so shy, Hiroto found it difficult to make friends with other people. He always ate lunch alone in the school grounds until Shou accidentally found him and they have always had lunch together since then. Shou even helped Hiroto joining the photography club because Hiroto was too shy to do it himself and encouraged him to be the student committee. Shou has a huge role in shaping Hiroto’s current personality and Hiroto has always clung to Shou like a stray puppy.

Seeing Shou being highly motivated because of someone else like this, somehow brings up a feeling of reluctance even though Shou’s attitude hasn’t changed towards him at all. Hiroto lets out a sigh.

#alice nine #アリス九號.#alice 9 #alice9 #fanfiction #alice nine fanfiction #A9 #ASYLUM #shou #tora #saga #hiroto #tora x saga #shou x pon #ToSa #ShouPon #boys love

14 notes · View notes

earth-architect · 4 years ago

Text

Senior Year Aventures (zuko xOC) pt.9.5

“Come dance with me”

The ride to Toph’s house was calming. Zuko let her have the aux, her favorite songs played as she watched the beautiful scenery. Toph lived pretty much in the middle of the woods, she always loved driving down Bei-fong lane seeing the practical mansion peak through the evergreens.

“wow Tophs house is huge!!” Zuko looked at the house in wonder. That’s another thing she loved, when someone new sees Tophs house, especially when the person is cute.

“you’re going to want to park in the garage” she tells him as the get to the front of the house.

“The garage doors are close though?”

“Yeah I know I have the garage key” she digs out her keys to get the garage key out. She presses the button and the doors slowly open up. Sokka and Aangs cars are parked in the first two garages, leaving Zuko to park in the third. She jumps out of the car first, walking quickly to the door and unlocking it. She opens the door and walked back to Zuko’s car to help him get out the drinks. They walk in the house, making sure to lock the door and made their way to the kitchen.

“hello!! Any irresponsibility teens home!!”

“in the living room”

Setting the drinks on the kitchen island, the two walked to the living room, a sight Kianna has seen hundreds of times, but Zuko was amazed. And rightfully so, every room in Toph’s house was a beautiful sight. Tophs parents were world famous architects, of course their house would be nothing but art. The living rooms high ceilings brought in the natural light into the room and a perfect view of the enormous back yard a pool could be seen through the celling to floor window.

“looks like Zuko is enjoying Toph’s house” Sokka says, everyone turns to look at the boy, his eyes were wide with amazement.

“Ki you should give him a house tour” suki says. Kianna didn’t even have to look at suki to see she was slightly smirking. ‘I’m starting to regret telling them I like Zuko’

“we can do that another day, right now I’m ready to get smashed”

“ I second that, let’s get this pregame started” everyone cheered as they walked in the kitchen.

“wait” Kianna stops from taking a drink “did you guys party proof the house”

The groan Sokka let out was enough to answer her question.

“alright everyone split up, meet back here in 20 minutes” everyone sets the cups down, walking in different directions while Zuko just stood there.

“come with me Zuko” Kianna chuckles ‘boy does he need to stop acting so new’

she led him to the dining room. This room had the most expensive things on display, and if anything, where broken it wouldn’t be pretty.

“everything you see in here needs to go in the case in the corner so we can lock it up”. Zuko doesn’t say anything back, he just starts picking things up and putting them neatly in the case, the two worked in silence for about 5 minutes until everything was put away. Kianna places the lock on the case, giving it an extra tug to make sure it wouldn’t budge.

“ok all we need to do now is lock the study and we can go drink” she gives him a bright smile, which he returns quickly. He follows her a little more closely now, almost like he’s working up the courage to hold his hand. He was so close she noticed when he wasn’t following her anymore. She turned around to see him looking at a painting, her painting.

“is this the piece you were talking about?” he asked, though his eyes never moved from the painting.

“yes, the Bei-fongs where the first people to hire me, when Toph’s mother found out I could paint she asked me to do this piece, it’s one of my favorites” the painting is of Toph, sitting in the garden that was placed in the back yard, it took Kianna weeks to finish it but it was honestly amazing work, the colors blended together perfectly, the flowers draw beautifully, you would think it was painted by a professional who’s had years of practice, not a 13 yea old girl.

“I had just moved in with them too, at the time they lived in the house I live in now” she takes a few more steps to the door of the study, knowing Zuko could still hear her.

“it took me a while to warm up to Mr. and Mrs. b but when they found my art and showed genuine interest in it, I knew they were good people.” She sighs at the memory

“when if finished it, Mr. b told all his rich friends, I started commissioning pieces for them on the weekends, Mrs. b put all the money I earned and started a fund for me, I’m pretty sure the put their own money in there too.” She locks the door, and twist the handles to check that is was locked.

“so, the Bei-fongs are your parents?” Zuko finally tore his eyes off the masterpiece

“there my adoptive parents, the took me in right before my 13th birthday they gave me there old house a few months ago when I turned 18, I guess they wanted me to have something of my own after not having anything the majority of my life” Zuko turns to face her, looking deeply in her eyes. Both of them getting lost in each other’s eyes, studying each other like they would forget the shing specks of brown and gold.

“it looks like I have a lot to learn about you” he says smiling at her “but I can’t help but be interested and finding out exactly who you are Kianna” ‘wow did he get closer? And god the way he says my nam-“

“KI, ZUKO, WE ARE ABOUT TO DRINK WITH OUT YOU” Tophs yelling startles them both, with a shy smile, she leads him back to the kitchen, immediately getting handed a drink. The teens spend the next two hours drinking, setting up music, and clearing furniture for a spot for people to dance. By the time the crowds of party animal students arrived, Kianna was tipsy, on the verge of being completely drunk. She had lost sight of Zuko for what seems like hours. Being pulled away by other classmates to do shots and chat about how Mr.Piandao test was a bitch. It wasn’t until around midnight that she spotted Zuko talking to some of the boys from the soccer team. The boys looked like they were having a fun conversation, she couldn’t hear what they were saying but before she could look away, Zuko caught her glaze. He tells the boys a quick goodbye and makes his way to her. All she could do was stand there and watch him, it was almost, like everything went is slow motion and maybe she was actually just drunk.

“hey, you having fun” she says as soon as he was close enough to hear her, which was extremely close with the loud music playing.

“yeah I am, some of the guys from the soccer team have been convincing me to play”

“you play soccer, you should totally go for the team”

He shrugs “I played at my old school, I’ve been debating if I should pick it up here, some guys don’t like new people on their team”

She gives him a smile “nah the team isn’t like that, and if you love to play you shouldn’t let other people stop you”

He gives her a soft smile -god that smile- “do you want to come with me to get a refill”

She gives him a nod and turns to walk to the kitchen, he walks with her, and she almost jumps when he places his and on the small of her back, slightly leading her. They get to the kitchen and find it surprisingly empty. Ask Zuko takes her cup to fill it with whatever drink he was drinking she hops up on the island, crossing her ankles so no one could see up her dress

“here try this” he hands her back her cup, she takes sip of the drink and it was so good she ends up chugging the rest.

“geeze slow down “he laughs when she hands him her empty cup filling it for her anyway

“what is that it’s so good!!”

“it’s my own concoction, I call it California surprise, but really slow down on it, the sugar will make you drunk super-fast” he hands her cup, which she takes brushing his finger times lightly. she takes a slow sip before putting the cup down.

“you know I forgot to tell you look really good tonight” she slyly looks at him through her eyelashes “you trying to impress some”

He sets his cup down next to hers “well you look absolutely amazing, did you know red is my favorite color?”

“really, red is mine too”

He raises his eyebrow “well good thing we match huh”

Before she could think of a reply, a familiar tune distracts her

“oh! This is my favorite song, come dance with me!” she dragged Zuko toward the dance floor in the Livingroom, he didn’t put up a fight, so he figured he was ok with it. When the got to the dance floor she turned to him.

“I’m not really a good dance” he says clearly hesitating

“that’s ok, everyone is too drunk to notice” she wraps his ands around her waist and puts her arms around his neck, slightly swaying to the music. Zuko loosened up eventually swaying with her. The two danced to a few songs, then went to the kitchen to get a drink, then going back to dancing. At some point in the night Kianna had he back pressed against Zuko’s chest while they danced. The two were lost in their own world, enjoying each other. They didn’t even notice Katara, Sokka, suki and Aang watching them the whole night. And when the group watched the two disappear to where Kianna’s old room was, all Toph could think was ‘tomorrow morning is going to be really interesting, and imma bout to get paid’

A/n: here’s the second part of part 9!! I hope you guys like it!! I will hopefully have the next part up on Saturday, and from here on out I will be posting every Saturday and Wednesday to give myself a schedule!! If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know!!P.s thanks for all the love posting my writing has always been a battle for me and I’m glad some people out there enjoy it!!

Tag list: @snickerdoodleeee @fanficflaneuse @pyromanicschizophrenic @kyleeanne016 @welovediaaxx

#Zuko x OC #zuko smau #atla smau #atla x oc #avatar the last airbender #atla zuko #zuko #highschool au

17 notes · View notes

somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years ago

Text

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a Y!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru. (My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU):

Genres: Slice of Life, Comedy, Drama, Romance, School

Synopsis: Hachiman Hikigaya is an apathetic high school student with narcissistic and semi-nihilistic tendencies. He firmly believes that joyful youth is nothing but a farce, and everyone who says otherwise is just lying to themselves. In a novel punishment for writing an essay mocking modern social relationships, Hachiman's teacher forces him to join the Volunteer Service Club, a club that aims to extend a helping hand to any student who seeks their support in achieving their goals. With the only other club member being the beautiful ice queen Yukino Yukinoshita, Hachiman finds himself on the front line of other people's problems—a place he never dreamed he would be. As Hachiman and Yukino use their wits to solve many students' problems, will Hachiman's rotten view of society prove to be a hindrance or a tool he can use to his advantage? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 13 episodes.

My Thoughts: Apparently I really enjoyed this series when I originally watched it. That being said, I recently tried to start the third season and called it quits about half an episode in because it just wasn’t doing anything for me and I found Hachiman questionable. I have no idea what you should take from this comment.

Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru. Zoku (My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU TOO!):

Genres: Romance, Comedy, Drama, Slice of life, school

Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru. Zoku picks up immediately after the events of the first season, continuing the adventures of the Volunteer Service Club—the dispassionate Hachiman Hikigaya, the cheerful Yui Yuigahama, and the competitive Yukino Yukinoshita—as it dedicates itself to helping any student with issues that they may face. With the rift among his own group widening, Hachiman begins to realize that his knack for quickly getting to the root of other people's troubles is a double-edged sword: sometimes the best solution is not necessarily the most appropriate one. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 13 episodes.

My Thoughts: Same as above.

Yakusoku no Neverland (The Promised Neverland)

Genres: Sci-fi, Mystery, Horror, Psychological, Thriller, Shounen

Synopsis: Surrounded by a forest and a gated entrance, the Grace Field House is inhabited by orphans happily living together as one big family, looked after by their "Mama," Isabella. Although they are required to take tests daily, the children are free to spend their time as they see fit, usually playing outside, as long as they do not venture too far from the orphanage—a rule they are expected to follow no matter what. However, all good times must come to an end, as every few months, a child is adopted and sent to live with their new family... never to be heard from again. However, the three oldest siblings have their suspicions about what is actually happening at the orphanage, and they are about to discover the cruel fate that awaits the children living at Grace Field, including the twisted nature of their beloved Mama. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8.5/10

Finished airing in 2019 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: An intriguing premise with interesting characters and nice art. Plus I just love when things suddenly take a disturbing turn... as long as it’s done well and not just played for straight up shock value. Looking forward to the next season.

Yamada-kun to 7-nin no Majo (Yamada-kun and the Seven Witches):

Genres: Harem, Mystery, Comedy, Supernatural, Romance, School, Shounen

Synopsis: When Ryuu Yamada entered high school, he wanted to turn over a new leaf and lead a productive school life. That's why he chose to attend Suzaku High, where no one would know of his violent delinquent reputation. However, much to Ryuu's dismay, he is soon bored; now a second year, Ryuu has reverted to his old ways—lazy with abysmal grades and always getting into fights. One day, back from yet another office visit, Ryuu encounters Urara Shiraishi, a beautiful honors student. A misstep causes them both to tumble down the stairs, ending in an accidental kiss! The pair discover they can switch bodies with a kiss: an ability which will prove to be both convenient and troublesome. Learning of their new power, Toranosuke Miyamura, a student council officer and the single member of the Supernatural Studies Club, recruits them for the club. Soon joined by Miyabi Itou, an eccentric interested in all things supernatural, the group unearths the legend of the Seven Witches of Suzaku High, seven female students who have obtained different powers activated by a kiss. The Supernatural Studies Club embarks on its first quest: to find the identities of all the witches.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Pretty girls everywhere and a few pretty guys. Loved the opening and the dreamy sort of art. The art throughout wasn’t bad either. Wasn’t overly impressed with the anime itself but certainly didn’t hate it. Also has an OVA for those interested.

Yamato Nadeshiko Shichihenge:

Genres: Comedy, Shoujo

Synopsis: Ever since her crush rejected her by insulting her appearance, Sunako Nakahara has been a shut-in with a hatred for beauty, embracing all things morbid and occult-related. She is sent to live in her aunt's mansion which, to her dismay, she'll share with four exceedingly handsome boys her age. Furthermore, her flighty aunt has made a deal with these boys that in exchange for living there rent-free, they are to turn Sunako into a proper lady by the time she returns from a trip around the world. Thus begins Sunako's hectic life with abrasive Kyohei Takano, ladies' man Ranmaru Morii, calm Takenaga Oda, and friendly Yukinojo Toyama. As she interacts with them she finds them less obnoxious, and she may not be as much of an outcast as she thought. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 10/10

Finished airing in 2007 with a total of 25 episodes.

My Thoughts: One of the very first animes I watched and I absolutely loved it. The style, the atmosphere, the comedy, the characters, all of it!

Yuri!!! On Ice:

Genres: Comedy, Sports

Synopsis: Reeling from his crushing defeat at the Grand Prix Finale, Yuuri Katsuki, once Japan's most promising figure skater, returns to his family home to assess his options for the future. At age 23, Yuuri's window for success in skating is closing rapidly, and his love of pork cutlets and aptitude for gaining weight are not helping either. However, Yuuri finds himself in the spotlight when a video of him performing a routine previously executed by five-time world champion, Victor Nikiforov, suddenly goes viral. In fact, Victor himself abruptly appears at Yuuri's house and offers to be his mentor. As one of his biggest fans, Yuuri eagerly accepts, kicking off his journey to make it back onto the world stage. But the competition is fierce, as the rising star from Russia, Yuri Plisetsky, is relentlessly determined to defeat Yuuri and win back Victor's tutelage.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: The series that spawned a million pieces of fan art, fiction and merchandise. The figure skating anime.... who hasn’t heard of this one. Pretty enjoyable series in my opinion with an excellent opening and lovable characters. Too short though.

#my teen romantic comedy snafu #anime #the promised neverland #yamada-kun to 7-nin no majo #yamada-kun and the seven witches #yamato nadeshiko shichi henge #Yuri!!! on ice

7 notes · View notes

solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Wires [2]: Defensive Wounds

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.” — Walt Whitman

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The morgue is cool and quiet, gleaming metal polished to a shine that sends little daggers of light into Lir’s eyes. She gives herself a moment to adjust, listening to the faint tic tic tic of the freezers, fingering the bottle of aspirin in her pocket while she waits to see if the subtle pressure in her skull is going to shift from discomfort to agony. Next to the door is a desk, with a state of the art computer, a few files, a cup full of pens, and a half-drunk cup of coffee with lipstick on the rim; beyond that, there is another door, one that probably leads to a storage room, two walls of cold lockers in four rows of four, and two x-ray displays on the final wall. In the center of the room are three slabs. On one of them is the Jane Doe, covered respectfully with a sheet, her eyes closed to give her an expression of peace. At her side is Trish, her blonde hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head and her face partially obscured by a sterile mask that she tugs down on Lir’s approach.

“Thorne,” she greets cheerfully. “You here for the autopsy report?” Lir nods, and Trish beckons her closer. “You’re right on time. Just got done with our guest.”

Lir isn’t sure what to make of having a corpse called a guest. Gallows humor, she supposes. “What can you tell me about her?”

“She suffered, that’s for certain.” Trish turns on the light over the slab and pulls it down, illuminating the Jane Doe with a grisly, fluorescent white that turns her already dead pallor a sickly blue-gray. Then she pulls the sheet down, and Lir is suddenly, incredibly grateful that she hasn’t eaten yet, the bile in her throat bitter but weak. “The throat and abdominal trauma was all perimortem. She was alive, but not struggling, when our killer cut her open. Judging from the tissue damage, looks like the throat happened first, but it was ultimately shock and blood loss that killed her.”

“She was alive for the whole thing?”

“Mm-hm. Though I don’t know how aware of it she was. I don’t have the toxicology report yet—that will take a little longer to run, sorry—but pupil dilation is indicative of intoxication. Judging from the depth of the gash here,” Trish points to Jane Doe’s throat, “it was more to keep her quiet than kill her. She would have bled out from that alone eventually if no one found her first, but it doesn’t go through bone. The hesitation marks at the edges make me think he was more . . . Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Probably sawed through her.”

Lir tries to picture it, being too strung out or drunk to defend herself, being helpless while some maniac slashed her throat and cut her open like a butcher. From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a red dress and pale hair and holds her breath, counting to ten until it fades, then asks, “You said at the scene there weren’t any defensive wounds.”

“That’s right. And there aren’t. No blood or tissue under her nails, no bruising or scrapes or cuts to show that she tried to fight back.” Trish sighs, lifting the sheet back over Jane Doe before tugging off her gloves. “Whoever this is, they’re one sick puppy.”

“Yeah.” Photographs on the wall catch her attention, and Lir walks over to study them closely. They’re all from the crime scene, some of little bits of evidence next to their markers, others of the victim, and it’s the latter she really looks at. “Does that pendant have any religious connotations?”

“You’d have to check. Why?”

“I just thought she looks kind of like an angel.”

Trish comes to stand next to her, her expression grave. “You know, I had the same idea.”

They stand in a heavy silence, the clock on the wall ticking loudly until Lir sighs. She bids farewell to Trish, who promises to have the full report to her by the end of the day, and takes the elevator back up to the bullpen. Dante will no doubt want to know what she’s learned, but she finds that she doesn’t quite want to tell him. Something about this all is nagging her, tugging the thin strands of her memory with an urgency, look, look, you’ve seen this before, even though she’s fairly certain that she never has. Was there a similar case in Fortuna? So lost in wracking her thoughts she nearly runs right into Simmons as she steps off the elevator, and she mumbles an apology and returns to her desk, where she boots up the computer, hunting for a notepad and a pen while she waits for it to finish loading.

A cup of coffee thudding next to her elbow has her peering up. Dante sits back down, a cup of his own in his hand that he raises to her before he takes a sip. His face screws up in disgust. “Fuck. No matter how long I’m here, coffee still tastes like shit. What’d Trish say?”

“That we’d have the full report soon,” Lir replies. She finds what she was looking for and logs into the terminal. “Victim was slaughtered like livestock and left to die. Too something to even try to save her own life.”

“That all?”

She’s aware of his gaze, critical and assessing on her, and it makes her skin flush unpleasantly. “Until toxicology comes back.”

With a nod, he leans back in his seat. “Alright. What are your thoughts?”

Now you want to know? she nearly asks. Rubbing her temples, she replies instead, “Our guy is bold. A nightclub on one side, a bar on the other, people coming and going at all hours? Not to mention, he had to have been familiar with the location to avoid the security camera, if he did. Speaking of, is that footage here yet?” Dante shakes his head. “Right. Okay. So, Jane Doe was probably at one of the two places. Why risk dragging her any farther than that? And he had to get her to go with him somehow. A knife or a gun would have been too obvious, even for a crowded bar.”

“Could’ve posed as a hook-up,” Dante suggests.

“Mm. If she wasn’t drunk, he might have drugged her.”

“Drugs?”

“Her pupils were blown.”

“So,” he says slowly, “we’ve got a bold, possibly attractive killer who goes to bars to pick up women. Think he knew the vic?”

Lir realizes suddenly that he’s testing her, digging to see her worth, and it makes her angry all over again. “No, too risky. He’s got balls, but he’s not an idiot. All this planning, all the care he took, he wouldn’t want to leave any trace of himself, and that means he was probably a stranger and he picked her out when he got there. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”

“Opportunistic. Well, shit. Means he’s gonna be a bitch to find.” He offers her a crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Want to flip a coin to see who’s givin’ Morrison the news?”

“You do it. I need to look for something.”

Dante frowns then, but the expression is quickly smothered as he stands. He takes his coffee with him into Morrison’s office; once the door is closed firmly behind him, Lir releases a sigh and slumps in her chair, cradling her head in her hands. This was meant to be a new beginning for her. Get out of Fortuna, away from the good-intentioned but condescending men she worked with, leave the bitter break-up and the cramped apartment behind her to set out in the bigger city. Yet here she is, dealing with condescending men, living in an apartment that’s large enough to feel empty, with a killer that she knows she has an infinitesimally small chance of catching on her hands. Maybe I’ll get a cat, she thinks, and then discards it. She’s going to be too busy to give any pet the love it would deserve.

Lir pulls up the database and enters her credentials, watching the wheel spin as the program decides whether or not she’s allowed in. Once it opens, she navigates to the search bar, where she types evisceration, hoping the term will be narrow enough to ping any cases that might have been similar. All she gets are animal cruelty cases, youths torturing cats and dogs, and she groans. Next is religious, but that doesn’t get her anything other than some fraud. Jane Doe is too broad, while trying by location only gets her arrests for petty theft, assault, and drunk and disorderlies. Her fingers drum on her desk as she thinks; maybe, if whatever it is that she thinks she remembers was before her time in the force, it would have been before they started digitizing their records.

Which would mean figuring out the location and then digging through that city’s physical files.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Most of what she said to Dante was speculation, and she knows that they’re going to spend at least a week trying to identify their victim and looking for anyone who might have seen her, tracking down friends and acquaintances and ex-boyfriends to see if any of them had the fury and the cruelty needed to butcher someone like that. If they’re lucky, she’ll have gotten into some sort of trouble with the law and there will be prints they can match. If they’re unlucky, it’s beating the streets, shoving her photograph in people’s faces to try and jar their memory.

“Detective?” Lir opens her eyes to find Simmons standing next to her, a USB stick in his hand. “The nightclub owner sent this over. Said it’s all the footage from the last twenty-four hours and you wanted it?”

He sounds uncertain, and she forces herself to smile. “Yeah, thanks. While I’ve got you here, can I ask a favor?” Hesitantly, he nods. “Head down to the morgue to get the victim’s prints from Trish and run ‘em, will you? It’s a long shot, but it might help us figure out who she is.”

Simmons doesn’t look like he finds the idea appealing, but he gives a weak salute and heads down the stairs. Lir watches him until he disappears into the elevator, and then she plugs the USB into her computer and opens the files to scroll through it. Twenty-four hours of hopefully unaltered footage stored in four hour chunks which, when she clicks on the first video to play it, turn out to be monochrome and grainy. She fights through the urge to yank her hair, instead getting up and going to grab a fresh cup of coffee from the canteen. After a moment of hesitation, she takes the entire pot, setting a second one to brew; this is going to be an all-nighter for sure, and the only thing that’s going to get her through it is enough caffeine to make her jittery.

Dante is back at his desk when she returns. He arches a brow at the sight of her with the pot, but that turns into a loud groan as she says, “Footage got here. All twenty-four hours worth. Want to grab a seat?”

“There’s a meeting room we can use,” he mutters. “Bigger screen. Grab it and let’s go. Is that all the coffee?”

“For now.”

His long-suffering sigh draws an unwilling smile from her. Dante leads her down a hallway to a room mostly taken up by a large oval table surrounded by plush leather chairs, and he sinks into one as she sets up the monitor on the wall and gets the USB situated. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Tough shit.” She chuckles and presses play.

Hours pass as they work through both the footage and the coffee, pausing only when they catch sight of a pale-haired woman before slumping back in disappointment and carrying on. Morrison stops by once to check on them, then Simmons with the news that the prints were a dead end, and finally Trish with her full report, toxicology included. None of them linger for more than a few minutes at most. Dante and Lir alternate bathroom breaks and coffee runs, neither of them willing to stop the tape until it’s done. Like ripping a bandaid off, she thinks at one point, stifling a yawn before taking a large swig of her lukewarm coffee. Get it over with in one go, no hesitation.

It’s just passed four in the morning when Dante lurches in his seat. “Pause it, pause it!” Lir jumps, pressing quickly on the remote, and he squints. “Rewind it a bit. There, stop, stop. Press play.”

“What is—oh!” She scrambles for the file on the table, flipping it open so she can see the picture of Jane Doe clipped to the inside. Pulling it free, she holds it up, glancing between it and the screen. “It’s her.”

“Mm. Looks like . . .” He leans forward, his eyes narrowed as his lips move silently. “Two?”

Lir blinks, then turns her laugh into a rough cough. “No. It’s, uh . . . It’s 3:37.”

Dante scowls at her as he reaches into the pocket of his vest to pull out a pair of square glasses, the style just as noir as his clothing. He perches them on his nose, then nods. “Yeah. Alright. So our victim walked into the club at 3:37 am. Since her body was found at quarter to eight, means there’s a five hour window for our killer to have found her and pulled her into the alley.”

“That’s if you don’t remove however long she was in the bar and the killer leaving,” Lir points out.

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a wiseass, Thorne. It’s not cute.”

“I’m not here to be cute,” she replies irritably.

“Shame.” Just as she’s debating dumping her coffee on him, he asks, “There a way to print this? We’ll take it with her autopsy photo and show it to the staff at the club, see if any of ‘em remember her. Maybe she paid with a credit card, which’d give us a name.”

“You plannin’ to sleep tonight?” she asks dryly.

“Sleep when you’re dead, Thorne. Print and let’s go.”

Biting her tongue, she heads back to the computer attached to the monitor and screenshots the frozen video. Once it’s in her hands, the two of them head out back, where the employee lot is, and Dante leads her to a car that she recognizes from her childhood. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the ‘58 Corvette, the same type her father had often talked dreamily of owning when he retired, the black paint and white cut-outs glossy in the early dawn light. The top is closed against the dew, but she can still make the red leather interior, and she laughs incredulously when Dante unlocks it. “Seriously?”

“You can take a cab if you like,” he replies tightly.

Lir closes her mouth and climbs in, looking around curiously. The seats are incredibly comfortable, and it doesn’t seem like Dante has done any upgrading to it at all: the gearshift is still topped by a clean white knob, and the only source of sound is the radio, the knob of which Dante turns until classical rock filters softly through the speakers. A good car is like a good woman, her father had told her two months before his death, holding her in his lap as he pointed to the yellowed magazine, treat her right and she’ll stick with you for life. She’d put the damned ad in his casket before they buried him, and Lir closes her eyes against both the unwelcome sting of tears and the sight of him with his misshapen head on the silk pillow. Botched robbery, her mother said tearfully. Throat closed with sudden grief, just as sharp as it had been then, Lir hardly notices when they pull away from the curb.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Dante’s startled silence is the only reply she gets.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires

9 notes · View notes

starringemiliaclarke · 5 years ago

Text

Press: Emilia Clarke: ‘I didn’t want people to think of me as sick'

THE GUARDIAN – As she stars in this year’s Christmas feelgood movie, Emilia Clarke talks about the intense scrutiny of Game of Thrones, how she coped with the brain haemorrhage that almost killed her – and why we all need to escape reality sometimes

Gallery Links:

PHOTOSHOOTS & OUTTAKES > 2019 > 2019 The Guardian

MAGAZINES > 2019 > 2019 The Observer – Dec 1

Emilia Clarke had a headache. It was 2011, just before Valentine’s Day and just after she’d wrapped on the first series of Game of Thrones, playing Daenerys Targaryen, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons. She didn’t yet know, as she crawled into the locker room of her local gym in north London and vomited bile into the toilet, that Game of Thrones would run for seven further seasons, break Emmy-award records for most wins for a scripted television series and for a drama, be named one of the greatest TV shows of all time, and quickly come to define her. But there was much she didn’t know.

She didn’t know that at 24 she had suffered a life-threatening stroke, a subarachnoid haemorrhage (SAH) caused by bleeding into the space surrounding the brain. She didn’t know, as she lay on the floor repeating lines from Game of Thrones in order to test her memory, that a third of SAH patients die immediately, or that those who survive require urgent treatment to avoid a second, often fatal bleed. She didn’t know there was another swollen blood vessel in her brain, which had doubled in size by the time she finished filming season three. She didn’t know that one day, eight years later, over biscuits on her pink sofa, she would be smiling with the dark realisation that her stroke was one of the best things that could have happened to her.

Her pink sofa is in her pink house, which is also green and blue and muted shades of rust, and has a secret bar hidden in a courtyard shed, and an outdoor screening room heated by a wood-burning stove. To walk into her living room, where one corner is painted with a symbol relating to her mum, another to her late dad, and a third with a meaningful dragon, is to enter the cosiest corner of Clarke’s mind. By the stairs, horsehair is visible in the plaster; the walls are stripped back to the bone. She shows me round with a raw sort of glee, a sense that her comfort and safety are bound into the details: the friends’ art on the walls, the “single girl’s” bedroom. She moved in after Game of Thrones; in this and many ways, her life can be cleanly dissected into before and after.

Before, Clarke, now 33, who grew up in Oxfordshire, had appeared in a single episode of the daytime soap Doctors. She was ambitious, optimistic and relentlessly cheerful. After, after Game of Thrones, and the death of her father, which shook her family, as did her life-threatening stroke, she is sitting on her pink sofa and contemplating a decade that changed her.

“And yes, I’m at the point where I definitely think of the brain haemorrhage as a good thing,” she nods. She has extremely expressive eyebrows that appear jointed – for every word Clarke says, and she says many, they add 15 more. “Because I was never destined to be the ‘young actor goes off the rails’ type, up and down the gossip columns. And having a brain haemorrhage that coincided precisely with the beginning of my career and the beginning of a show that became something quite meaty, it gave me a perspective that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.” She pauses. “I’m quite a resilient human being, so a parent dying and brain haemorrhages coinciding with success and people following you in the street and getting stalkers – you’re just, like, ‘Well let’s try and make something sensible of it.’”

It was a decade that contained the very best and very worst of a life, and one of the sensible things she tried to make of it was the founding of a charity, SameYou, to provide treatment for people recovering from brain injuries and stroke. It was only in order to promote the charity that, eight years after her stroke, she finally decided to talk about it, in a piece for the New Yorker. “On the set, I didn’t miss a beat, but I struggled,” she wrote, of returning to Game of Thrones after brain surgery. “Season two would be my worst. I didn’t know what Daenerys was doing. If I am truly being honest, every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.”

It’s remarkable, considering her profile and her regular appearances in the Daily Mail in lovely dresses and grand smiles, that she managed to keep it secret for so long. She didn’t want to tell strangers, “Because it was mine.” She feared, too, that people would “sneer at it”.

It so happened that, the week before I went to meet her, I had a similar (though less dramatic) neurological diagnosis – when I tell her about it, for some reason my voice shakes. She is warm and quick with recommendations, and as she continues she says, “Well, you know, then. You know the worries. That people will think your soul, your movement, your voice, who you were,” was damaged. “It was nerve-racking to share it, to be honest. It always is, when you make yourself vulnerable.” She waited so long to talk about it, because, “I didn’t want people to think of me as… sick.”

There are still days on set when she will quietly pull aside the makeup person and say, “‘I think I’m having a brain haemorrhage. I’m not, I promise, but maybe just put me in a cold tent and we’ll sit down for a second, and I apologise in advance if I freak you out.’ Over the summer I was burning the candle at both ends, and I was with my mate on the plane. And I was like, ‘Dude, I feel really weird…’ But I was fine. It’s hard not to think the worst. It’s hard to think you’re overtired, or you’ve been on Instagram too long, and to realise these might have the same side-effects as something deadly. But the charity evolves with me. I use it. Here’s something else that I feel: maybe someone else feels the same way.”

She talks about the summer just gone with a regretful kind of wonder – it was th e summer after the Game of Thrones finale had divided fans, when she was coming to terms with how the “overwhelming” amount of nudity in the first season had affected her. And, after years of “filling every hiatus with a movie, shit, good or otherwise” (she starred opposite Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator Genisys, and as Qi’ra in Solo: a Star Wars Story) she had decided to take a break. Or, the decision was made for her.

“After we did the premiere for the last season, it felt suddenly like I lost all of the bones in my body. And I was in this puddle on the floor going, ‘Maybe this isn’t just the show.’ I’d never wanted to look around and see what we had, because I was convinced it was just going to blow up in our faces. And, well, at the end it kind of did. So I kept my head down. Then, after the premiere, I finally was able to stop, and that was difficult.” She travelled and went “raving with my mates, but that was not fulfilling. So, bloated and exhausted I went away for two weeks with my best girlfriend, [The Good Fight star] Rose Leslie, and it was in this retreat in India that I suddenly got it. This is what stopping feels like. And I was able to finally… be kind to myself.”

All this is recent. All this is really recent, with a new understanding of grief. Her beloved father, a theatre sound engineer, died of cancer in 2016. “The world felt like a scarier place once my dad wasn’t in it,” she said at the time. “There was the referendum, too,” she shudders. “It was the year of everything bad.”

But it was after her lost summer that, “I finally got this feeling. As if, on a cellular level, I’d grown up. And it’s so bittersweet, because I was clinging on to that childlike optimism. Then, when I finally let it go, I realised that was actually quite a heavy backpack to be wearing. I felt like that at the Emmys, too, finally popping my head up from the bunker. It’s as if you can see the actual landscape that you’ve been living in this entire time from another perspective.”

Occasionally she looks at me apologetically, her eyebrows like arrows, to check she’s not saying too much, and then she continues. “It can be perceived as such a feminine trait, can’t it – the responsibility to ‘put a smile on it’. And, and you feel like it’s a defeat if you give in and admit, ‘Maybe it’s not going to be OK in the end.’ But then, if you do, then you have an opportunity to go… ‘and what if that’s all right?’ Death is shit,” she says, dramatically. “It’s really hard and grief is horrific, and yet it is completely and utterly guaranteed. No matter how much Silicon Valley boys want to prove to everyone it’s not. But the finality of death, the absolute certainty of it, I’ve realised, is such a tonic.”

Along with a good stroke, I add the loss of a parent to her list of recommendations. “No! I’m not recommending it to anyone, obviously. But it is something real you can actually hold on to. We don’t look at grief properly. I’m not talking about the random moments of completely overwhelming emotion, I’m pretty in control of that… there was only one time on set where I just physically couldn’t stop crying. It’s the other stuff that we don’t discuss – the functional grief; when your worldview and your perspective on life and yourself changes irrevocably, forever.”

How is she dealing with that? “By realising that there is a framework that life lives within, and knowing when you reach the edges of it. There’s that. And I try to use the shit feelings as opposed to just ‘breathing through it’. It’s like putting my plastic in the recycling bin – it might not do anything, but I should at least try. And then being an actor and having a production company, knowing that the greater understanding I have about life, the greater storyteller I can be. As an actor, you’re always observing – no matter what trauma you’re going through, there’s a wee bit of your brain that’s like, ‘Isn’t this fascinating?’”

Every time I interview a famous person I leave feeling slightly high and slightly sad, because to enter their fabulous world also, inevitably, means you see the shadow of their cage. The imposed disconnect, for instance. And the constant smiling and the many locks. Clarke was catapulted to extreme fame during a period when she nearly lost her mind. She started to find gifts outside her door, from one of many stalkers. One, she says, is extremely unwell, another extremely mean. “The stalker stuff is just horrible because, as a single lady walking around town, I already feel like I’m being followed.”

These stalkers believe they’re having a relationship with her, “which is confusing, because having a relationship with people I don’t know is a big part of what I signed up for. I care about what art does to people. But it carries with it a responsibility, and when you leave your front door you take that with you. And it’s a difficult path to navigate. Because sometimes,” and she’s talking about fans now, the line between the two often being blurred, “you get grabbed physically and your instincts kick in. When you see shock being registered on someone else’s face, you’re like, ‘Where’s the danger?’ And then you realise, oh, it’s me – I’m the danger.”

Her fanbase is due to change shortly, as she maps out her career without dragons. Clarke’s new film is Last Christmas and is based on the Wham! song. While it is a box-office hit, reviews have been… mixed. “The kind of bad,” said Rolling Stone, “that falls somewhere between finding a lump of coal in your stocking and discovering one painfully lodged in your rectum.” It threatens to become a cult classic. Reader, I loved it.

Clarke plays a woman whose messy life, it becomes clear, is partly a result of recent illness. “I was able,” she says darkly, “to bring a lot to the role.” There is a romantic twist, a twist so gooey it may cause diabetes in vulnerable audiences, but there is a second twist, in that this film (co-written by Emma Thompson) could prove to be the most effective piece of anti-Brexit propaganda of the festive season. Clarke (with Thompson as her mother) plays the youngest of a family of first-generation immigrants, dealing with the fallout of the referendum.

“We filmed a scene of a hate crime,” Clarke says, a scene on a London bus where a couple are told to go back to where they came from. “And Emma said, ‘Come on, let’s be honest: haven’t we all witnessed something similar?’” She loved working on this film, in part because of the women in charge, “who recognised that we all had a life outside this movie. You don’t have to have a vagina to do that, but the difference lay in that slight… lack of patriarchy?” And in part because of the intersection between entertainment and what she describes as “meaning”. Something she continues to search for, albeit with regular disclaimers of privilege, and embarrassment.

“The world is scary at the moment, both politically and environmentally. You have politicians pushing people to the absolute limits of their left versus right parameters, and the middle ground that we were all living in before is now wasteland, because both sides are life or death. It feels so much more polarised and extreme than ever. You’ve got 33-year-olds like me asking, ‘Should I bring kids into this world? If I do, what will that kid feel like?’ It feels frightening, consistently. And I’m not alone. I’m leaning hard on Bake Off right now.”

But the fear has made her reassess her work, post-Game of Thrones. “Entertainment is about taking you outside of yourself for a second, which is largely what I think the success of Game of Thrones was. People wanted to see something familiar, but also have that level of separation, through dragons and magic. Escapism is what lots of people go to art for. So, if we can cherry-pick stories to tell people in a shitty time, I’d like to give them something really good. It could make them feel better, or less alone, or make them realise there’s something outside of their front door that they should care about.”

She takes a sharp breath. “You know, I spent a lot of time being like, ‘What I do is all bullshit. I’m completely selfish, a total narcissist.’ And then…” And then the world hit her at a great speed, and she emerged into this new adulthood, and 10 years crawled over her like glittering rats. “And then I realised what it was for. I help provide relief. And that’s worth something, especially now. Right?”

It takes a second before I realise she is waiting for an answer. “Right,” I say, reassuringly. “Right.”

Last Christmas is in cinemas nationwide now

Press: Emilia Clarke: ‘I didn’t want people to think of me as sick’ was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

#emilia clarke #game of thrones #game of thrones cast #GOT cast #daenerys targaryen #me before you #terminator

24 notes · View notes

savvyqueen18 · 5 years ago

Text

SilveeLocke|Let’s Go Eevee ZombieLocke|Pt. 1

This is currently being posted on an Amino, but I am posting it here in hopes of it reaching a bigger audience. I'm trying to make this story very appealing to the reader more than anything else, and as this is my first NuzLocke that I am doing AND making a story of I wanted to put in rules that would test fate and change the game. Like any other NuzLocke I suppose. Thank you, enjoy!

Here are my rules:

➺ No Duplicates Clause, so I cannot catch the same pokémon in a different area or it's evolution

➺ If I end up going further beyond a Route and I have not caught a pokémon I cannot go back and catch one

➺ Catches besides the first are to be counted as Exp Fodder since battles only occur with people

➺ Starter pokémon is Starter Locked for plot purposes (besides the fact that the Eevee/Pikachu in these games is SUPER OP so it's probs not gonna die anyway... but ur here for the story...)

➺ This is a ZombieLocke so these additional rules apply:

➻ Fainted Pokemon/Death: Any pokemon that faints is considered dead, and must be released or put in the Pokemon Storage System permanently (Exception: The New Life Rule, and The Sacrifice Rule)

➻ Nicknaming Pokémon: You must nickname all pokémon. This encourages bonds.

➻ The New Life: You are allowed 3 Revives during the whole run. This revive can be used at any point during the run. You are allowed to revive a fainted pokémon only immediately following their death. The penalty of reviving the pokémon is from that point you are only allowed to use 2 of its moves from its moveset. If the New Life pokémon wants to learn a new move you can only pick one of the two moves you picked as its usable moves to swap for the new one, and once a pokémon has been revived once it may not be revived again. You may not use 2 revives on the same pokémon.

➻ The Sacrifice: If a pokémon dies that you can't bear to part with you may use a randomized sacrifice to attempt to save it. Each pokémon in your party will be assigned a number between 1-6 (or however many pokes) in descending order from how they are organized. From there you must roll a die and whatever number it lands on is who will die in their stead. This cannot be undone! Whatever pokémon is chosen by the dice is gone even if it happens to be the same pokémon you tried to save. The sacrifice may only be attempted once.

♡♡♡

Part 1: Coincidence? I think not!

♡♡♡

> Next Part

>Meet Silviana

>Meet Xander

>Part 1 Cover Art

The morning sun beamed through the curtain striking the girl square in the face. With a groan, she pulled her fluffy covers over her.

Once again trying to drift off to sleep she thought about flying. Flying high over her home town of Pallet Town. She approached a cloud to land on it when the cloud burst with a loud BANG! She groaned again, the thumping sound of someone running upstairs filled her room and she peeked out of the blanket with one eye. A blurry dark shape came striding into her room.

"Oh come on Sil! You're STILL in bed?!"

She reached for her glasses to see her friend and neighbor, Xander, walking up to her bed. With one swift movement, he ripped the sheets off of her.

"Hey!" She grabbed the sheets once again and pulled herself into a ball of fluffy blanket mess.

"I don't want to be late getting my pokémon! Get up!"

She flung off the covers and rose from her bed, glaring daggers at the boy she said, "The only reason that I'm joining you is because you practically BEGGED me to join you!"

The voice of her mother came from down the hall, "Silviana Esperanza Ruiz! I hope you aren't fighting with Xander again. Xander why don't you come out of her room and both of you come down to enjoy breakfast?"

As soon as Silviana heard that, she turned and pushed Xander out of her bedroom.

"I can walk you know!" He said as he stumbled from her room.

"Not fast enough," and with a final shove she pushed him out and closed the door behind him. She slid down her door with a big sigh. After taking a moment to clear her thoughts, she went over to her closet. She had packed her bag about a week before when Xander first told her. Rechecking the leather bag she made sure she had all the necessities, then picked out a pair of shorts and a graphic tee.

She looked at her closet mirror as she did her hair up in a high ponytail. Double and even triple checking that she looked nice enough to meet a pokémon professor she hauled her bag onto her back and headed down to get breakfast.

As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, the first sight she saw was Xander shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Gasp! Mom made pancakes!... Sigh... Mom made pancakes... She quickly wiped the tears that were starting to form in her eyes and proceeded to make herself a plate.

She stopped when her mother gave her a big side hug, "Ooohh, I can't believe you are grown enough to go on your pokémon journey! Your brave enough to go younger than I did that's for sure," she finished with a smile and flipped the pancake in the pan.

"Thanks mom, but I could really do without the'I'm so happy for you, good luck' mushy stuff. I'm really just doing this for him," she pointed her fork at Xander and stabbed a piece of pancake.

"Okay, okay, I'll tone it down," she chuckled. She flopped another pancake onto the pile she was creating on the island. As Silviana took another bite of pancake her mother plopped a small box next to her as she sat down.

Silviana looked at the box, then at her mother, and back at the box. With one last look at her mother, her mother nudged her head towards the little box. Silviana took the little box carefully, she popped it open and inside of it rested a little black locket.

"It's got your dad and I's pictures in it," her mother carefully picked up the little locket, "and I made it into a bracelet, I know you don't like much jewellery." Mrs. Ruiz went to put it around Silviana's wrist and Silviana immediately pulled away.

"I'm not wearing that," Silviana said calmly.

Her mother sighed, "Of course, I'll just put it on your bag so it's safe," she gently clicked the bracelet around one of the straps on Silviana's backpack.

Silviana went back to eating her pancakes, they didn't taste as good now. After she finished three quarters of her pancake, she stood up and walked to the door.

"Hey where ya goin'?" Xander said with a mouthfull of pancake.

"You wanted to get a head start on this thing right?" Silviana said with sarcasm and a spin. She opened the door and waltzed right out.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Xander jumped from his seat, grabbing his bag from the ground and turned around to wave to Silviana's mom, "Bye Mrs. Ruiz! I'll be sure to make sure she doesn't get into trouble!"

Mrs. Ruiz chuckled, "Be safe!" She called out.

◇◇◇

Silviana let Xander run off ahead of her to the professor's lab. She would rather enjoy the peace that this morning brought before she got into whatever craziness Xander was going to put her through.

"Hey! No no! Give that back!"

A strange voice called to her left. From where she stood, she saw a small man with graying hair frantically grabbing at the tall grass. He had a white jacket on and was blocking the road that lead out of her small town.

"Woah!" A brown case came flying at him and and he was thrown backward.

With a gasp Silviana rushed over. She helped the old man up by the arm, she glanced over him again and realized the jacket was actually a lab coat. This is the professor?!

"I am probably getting too old for this, haha," he stood up and gave a greatful smile to Silviana, "Hello my dear, thank you for coming to help me. I was just on my way back from the pokémart when I got attacked by this eevee."

An eevee? What's that?

"Well then I suppose by the way you're dressed, you're probably one of the two new young trainers I'm supposed to give starters to!"

Silviana gave a silent nod and something caught her attention in the tall grass behind the professor. A brown blur shot out from the grass.

"Professor!" Silviana pushed the professor away and was hit by the brown blur. Closing her eyes and clutching her hands around the blur she tumbled back out of the tall grass. She landed on her backpack, still holding on tight, she peeked her eyes open and looked aghast when she saw that in her arms she held the little pokémon the professor told her about.

The pokémon shook its head ruffling its fur. It looked around then at Silviana with narrowed eyes.

"Uh... Hi there little fella? Oof!" The Eevee pushed off of her to propel itself over Silviana. Landing, and turning gracefully on the ground, it latched onto the golden chain of the locket Silviana's mom gave her.

"HEY! That's not yours!" Silviana turned to grab at it, but the little pokémon was too lithe for her bumbling movements. It dodged every attempt she tried to grab at it.

"My dear," she looked up to the professor stood next to her, "might I suggest another option?" Something clicked in his hand and it opened to reveal a pokéball.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" She took the ball from his hand.

He laughed, "Why throw it of course!" He gestured to the Eevee that was sitting on the ground now.

Silviana could have swore it had a smug look on its face. She scowled at it and underhandedly tossed the ball. It completely missed going right over the pokémon's head. The little pokémon in return flicked its ear in amusement.

Silviana growled, "Gimme another!" She turned to the professor holding one hand open.

Professor Oak smiled and graciously put two more pokéballs in her hands. Immediately Silviana threw them. One flew off to the right while the other flew over the head of the Eevee again. The little pokémon simply watched the pokéballs fly around and looked back at Silviana almost... smiling.

With more growls of frustration, she took two more of the pokéballs from Professor Oak. She wound up to throw the pokéballs simultaneously at the Eevee. They took a path straight toward it, but the little pokémon dodged them.

"UGH!" She threw two more, "Just get in the pokéball!" The Eevee jumped up toward one of the balls that flew toward it, with a flip, it pushed off the pokéball sending it flying back to Silviana. With a smack, it hit her straight in the face. Grunting she covered her face with both hands.

"VEE!"

Silviana peeked through her fingers just in time to see the second pokéball hit the little brown pokémon in the tail. In a red flash the creature was sucked into the little red ball. She slowly pulled her hands down.

The ball moved three separate times, but Silviana stayed where she was. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You can breathe now my dear, that means you caught it." The professor kindly said.

Silviana let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Walking over to the pokéball she carefully picked it up.

"Are you going to name it?" The professor asked after he had grabbed his belongings. He stopped in the grass where she had caught the Eevee and picked up the little trinket the pokémon had snagged, "I believe this is yours as well." He clipped it back onto her bag while Silviana continued to stare at the ball.

"What do I name it?" She looked confusedly at the professor.

The professor gave a chuckle, "Whatever you want to! It's your first pokémon, yes? Take your time," he patted her shoulder, "a name will come to you." He walked off toward the center of town, "But for now, we should head to the lab! I think your friend will be waiting for a special pokémon himself."

#zombielocke #silveelocke #pokemon #pokemonnuzlocke #pokemon nuzlocke #nuzlocke #let's go eevee #let's go pikachu #my writing

4 notes · View notes