#I don't care either way just idle curiosity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

0risha · 4 years

Text

“BONES.”

✰ PAIRING ⤷ dabi x fem!reader

SUMMARY ⤷ It took him over a decade to muddle his brain with different memories to overshadow his past ones, not wanting for the abstained shadows of remembrance to embrace him.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.

Dabi doesn’t trust himself.

He doesn’t trust the color of his mind to stay in the now state it’s in. If Touya Todoroki were to unwrap the gauze that clung to his very being, he’d fall apart. And he couldn’t have that. This unforgiving life of his had finally unfolded its palms and given him a gift and he’d stay sane for as long as he could to enjoy it.

✰ WC ⤷ 6.6k?

✰ TAGS ⤷ major angst, there is fluff though pinky promise, there’s a suggestive line, please don’t cancel me, it was detrimental to the story manga spoilers, a few curse words, character death, very, very soft dabi, shigaraki is an ass

NOTES ⤷ this is, indeed, the longest thing I've written that wasn't for school. and the summary is just a blurb because i had no idea what to write there. lol, I'm sitting at my laptop while crying my eyes out...... but uh.... I hope you like it ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

You smoke, Dabi takes that into account on the first day he sees you. Dabi hates cigarettes, despises them. He hates that itchy feeling his lungs get whenever he takes a drag, hates the way it makes him feel abyssal, co-dependent. And if there's one thing that Dabi hates, it's relying on something else that wasn't him self.

With that into consideration, he’s not entirely sure why you catch his eye, you’re not typically the type he goes for. He usually chose the dainty ones, the ones that were so eager to experience a jive of thrill, they don’t realize that they’ve encountered a person who played an important role in one of the most powerful villain organizations.

You're in the corner of a dingy bar, the dim lights somehow doing your angelic features justice. The light catches the glint of your name tag and the pastel blue of your scrubs. You look tired. Even from a far distance, he can see the sunken tent of your cheeks. The cigarette stick which hangs from in between your index finger and middle is halfway from becoming a stub. The plastic platter of pretzels that sit across from your chest is untouched as you grumble out replies to the bartender who's trying to make conversation with —a very uninterested— you.

When the clock hits eleven, your bar stool is scraping the ground as you attempt to leave. The relentless bartender grabs your arm with one last plea. His voice raising when you deny the idea that you should give him your number because you're too pretty to be by yourself. With one last pull, you stomp away towards the exit. Dabi doesn't know if it's because he's a villain too, but he follows after you. His senses telling him that there’s no way the bartender who you’d just rejected would let his wounded pride stay unbandaged.

He’s careful not to make any noises with the soles of his boots. The absence of street lights concealing his figure. Unbeknownst to him, his body enforces the skills he uses while stalking his next prey. His languid motions flowing with the same transverse as the cold, biting wind.

And you don’t notice a thing, your hands stuffed into the pockets of your thick silver jacket. But when your walking comes to a stop, Dabi’s heart nearly tumbles out from his chest. Not a second later, you pull out a pack of cigarettes and place one to your lips, lighting it in one go. When you resume walking, Dabi’s body internally holds a jubilee with jeers of relief. He’s not exactly sure why he’s helping you but what type of person would he be if he let a pretty lady like you get hurt?

At the thought, his throat tickles with the hope to let out a laugh.

When Dabi hears the crunch of leaves that bounce off the cracked concrete, for the second time that night he nearly breaks into a fit of laughter. The culprit’s first step is to trap you behind the fenced wall and his burly figure. What an amateur.

A part of Dabi wants to wait and see what you do. Are you a regular civilian? Do you have a strong quirk that would fight him off? His trail of thought evaporates when you hiccup out a laugh, smoke from the corner of your lips flowing into the man’s face. Dabi’s eyebrows quirking up with interest. What’s your next act?

After several hitches of breath, nothing comes and Dabi finally decides to step in as he feels the waves of anger emitting from the balding, middle-aged man who has you cornered.

The confrontation is brief —when the bartender turns to glance at an approaching lean, scarred figure, he scurries off without a word.

“Didn’t have to help me, I had it in the bag.” You squint at your savior as your cigarette bobs with the movement of your full lips. His stature towers over yours but you don’t seem the little bit phased.

“You weren’t scared,” he says and it’s more of a question than a statement. His cool voice sends a frosty layer through each stack of your vertebrae. Though, it slowly ebbs away as you study his features and realize how pretty he is —his eyes a pool of melted lapis. Sharp cheekbones molded to accustom to scars and silver staples that do nothing but add to your thinking connotation of him being ambiguity personified.

“Yeah, even if he did... you know.” You wave your hand. “He would’ve died sooner or later.” Dabi’s eyes narrow in confusion as he catches the way your eyelashes flutter prettily against your skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh.. uh- he had heart issues, the kind you can’t recover from.” You remove the lit stick from your lips and give him a full-toothed smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stranger.” And with that, you turn away and resume your lethargic walk down an empty alleyway.

Must be your quirk. Dabi thinks as he watches your figure disappear into the grasping shadows of the night. When he returns to the battered LOV hideout, he goes out of his way to avoid any interaction with the League. Refusing to taint his memory of your pretty smile and pretty face.

The next time Dabi sees you, you’re in the same place. This time you’re not wearing scrubs, opting for a more casual look with a baby blue top that contrasts nicely with your skin and jeans that accentuate your figure. You don't have a pack of cigarettes either.

Unlike before, you notice his stare and you bathe in it. The bartender from the other day all but glances at you. Amusingly, you turn to glance at the brooding figure in the corner of the bar with a knowing look.

After two beers and spinning courage, you walk towards Dabi with sway in your step. His eyes follow your movement until you decide to situate yourself next to him in the booth. His low lids focus on you as you fidget with your manicured fingers. Cute. He thinks. You’re too cute for your own good.

“What’s your name?” You break the silence. Teeth gnawing into the plush dent of your bottom lip.

Dabi takes his time to mull over his answer, he doesn’t notice the way his body temperature flares nor the tiny blue flames that threaten to dance on his scabbed knuckles. A grasp —an unfamiliar cloak, wraps its fabric around his shoulders. Prickles of his being push with urgency to ease it away but it’s all in vain.

“Touya.”

Touya, from the corner of his eye, watches your eyes light up with interest. Bright and wide with swirling specks of gaiety— joy. Which Dabi guesses are because of him. He turns his attention away from you, not wanting to get warped into your pretty eyes that sparkle just from hearing his name.

“S’ a pretty name,” you whisper. Sporting a subtle grin, one that blows wide when you see all four chambers of his heart pumping wildly with blood.

“Can you walk me home, Touya?”

It goes on like this, again and again —conversations with Touya at the back of the bar, sitting next to him in the grimy booth. His replies are quip ones but you know he’s listening to your idle chatter because you feel the way his eyes bore into your skull.

The night always comes to a close with both of you walking shoulder to shoulder, the plans of your upcoming day echoing off the bounds of the night sky. You live in an apartment building, a shitty one. He remembers you complaining about the squeaky floorboards, your loud neighbors, and the pervy, greasy-haired landlord that barges through your door at the most unreasonable times of the day. Touya raises his eyebrow at that.

“I’ll take care of him for you.” The words fly past his lips before he can stop them.

Your response is a peal of robust laughter that comes to a halt when you pull out a cigarette. “I’ll be sure to come to you,” you say. Today marked the thirtieth time you both engaged in subtle conversation. He takes note in the fact that you only smoke when you wear scrubs —the rope of curiosity gets the best of him.

“I have to keep up with the appearance of my two personalities, duh.” Touya has no clue what you mean but your clipped tone tells him that he shouldn't pry.

Meanwhile, your eyes flit to his sapphire ones than to his lips.

“Touya?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I kiss you?” You watch the way his eyes widen with a low giggle.

But before he can answer, your lips are already on his. He’s quick to take action as he cups the underside of your jaw, your breath minty even though you just had a smoke. His head’s a mess, there’s a jumble of terms that fail to come together and form coherent ones. The only thing his brain can commit is the pillowy softness of your lips. Sadly, he can’t enjoy the whole experience. His bottom lip erased with the tissue needed to feel, only leaving a purpled patch in its wake.

For a second, his chest tides over with a tinge of shame but it’s quickly washed away as you pull him even closer. Your small, gentle fingers carding through his soft, inky tresses.

The kiss ends when you pull away with a breathless sigh. You stay close to him, noses nearly touching as once shared breaths mingle. His hands are on your hips now, slowly kneading the soft flesh. A couple of seconds dart by as your dark eyes stare into his bright ones. The low-lighted area giving them a fascinating glow.

You want to tell him how pretty he looks at this moment. His flustered expression causing your gut to simmer with heat.

You need to tell him how nicely entrapped his presence always makes you feel but something in you decides against it, choosing to save it for another time. So you search for an alternative, breath growing unsteady as you stumble across one.

“Can you....walk me home, Touya?” This time it's different from the first night you asked him.

This time your voice trails off with a much different undertone.

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Touya wakes up before you do. Peeks of the sun squeeze through your bedroom blinds, casting a shining glow on your skin. As he studies your peaceful features, he encounters a divulgence. One that causes his skin to crawl with parasites that immediately beg him to keep up with this facade. To derive a little longer and enjoy this bliss at his own expense. However, Touya decides against it. It’s quite obvious that he’s not the safest person to be around, his appearance giving that thought away.

It might be better if he tells you first, he thinks.

It might be better if he lets a precious thing like you go before he builds a stockpile of lies that’ll eventually come crashing down when the realization finally hits.

“I’m a villain, you know,” he murmurs as he watches your eyelids flutter open. He grimaces as he tries to think of what your reaction may be. The first words you woke up to would have to be that you’d let a criminal into your home —into your bed.

He sits up to place his back on your cool headboard. The bell of anxiousness that sits at the pit of his stomach rings after a few beats of silence. You turn to stare at his upright figure with two arms tucked underneath your satin pillow. “I know, m’ not stupid, Touya.” You grumble, turning your head to return to sleep.

“What?” His eyebrows knit has his chest shutters with disbelief.

You ignore his bewilderment. “Since we’re confessing our deepest, darkest secrets can I tell you what could’ve been my villain origin story?” Touya stares at your face before bursting into laughter, one that nearly causes the staples around his jaw to unhinge. Though, this laughter is one of relief.

A part of him doesn’t believe it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever done a deed so right, so pure, that had earned him someone like you. The only thing his reeling mind can suffice is that he had killed a scum in some random, dirty alley that ended up being the lowest of the low. At the random thought, he laughs some more.

“What?” You can’t help but giggle, his laughter —which was a rare entity— made you giddy with joy. “I’m serious!” You pout, turning away from him to feign anger, your ears stay perked up as his smooth, rich laughter fills your bedroom with warmth.

“Okay, fine I won’t tell you.” His laughter trails off as he moves from the headboard to lie directly across from you.

“Alright, tell me.” His abnormal body heat causes you to shuffle closer until you rest your head on his chest.

When your story is done, he can’t help but stare at the ceiling in cerebrate silence.

At the age of fifteen, a program introduced by the hero association had recruited kids with abilities related to the medical field. Yours being an x-ray like quirk that allowed you to detect diseases, broken bones, and infections. Ones even normal x-ray’s couldn’t see. Forced to drop out of high school to take nursing classes and discard your latest stage of childhood life, you’d already become a registered nurse before the ripe age of nineteen. You worked in a special division, one where you only dealt with pro-heroes. You tell Touya about your worst encounter, one where you diagnosed a collection of broken ribs and the incapability to do hero work for several weeks and got shoved so hard that your ankle had twisted. Fortunately, the program had been discarded when you were twenty. With your inability to do other things that weren’t related to nursing you decided to stay one.

“Where were your parents?” It takes you a second to answer, chest deflating in the worst kind of way as you remember your father and mother’s shame-ridden faces staring back at your own —your's ridden with disbelief.

“They got money, so it didn’t really matter what happened to me.” You whisper, using the soft pad of your index finger to trace his scarred skin.

“Wanted to be a writer, Touya.” You try your best to hold in your cries but to no avail. “Wanted to write a best-seller,” You laugh, but it’s overshadowed by the watery sob that follows.

And with that, he finally understands. You’re two personas, a writer and a nurse. His chest tides up with pride once he realizes that he’s probably the first person to see and understand what they both mean to you.

“You can still be one,” he says. But it’s a promise of his own in disguise. I’ll change the world for you, make it so you can do anything you want to. It echoes from his every syllable and trails off with a familiar lilt.

And you see it too —hope-filled eyes flit to glittering ones. His, a bright pair of blue gems that shine with raw, unfiltered passion- yet to be completely polished. Against your will, every tendril of your being untwines and wraps itself around his words- you believe him. Unconsciously, your lips blow into a wide smile. “I’ll hold you to it, Touya.”

The stagnant air diffuses once you ask him a question, “when’s your birthday?”

Internally, you kick yourself in the shin as Touya shoots you a whimsical look. You’re not sure why this is the first personal question you decide to ask him.

But to you, Touya’s painted in grey, moral wise. You’ve only known him for less than a month, his background revealed the same night you met him. When you were with Touya, he didn’t seem like a villain. Villains were supposed to be vile, viscous people that didn’t dissolve properly into the troughs of today’s society.

His touch was gentle, handling you with nothing other than care. But you’re sure he’s used those same nimble fingers to inflict pain on whomsoever he chose. To you, Touya’s a jigsaw. You’re prepared —at least you think you are— to solve it. Prepared to start with the small pieces. And when those gradually come together, you’d use them as a guide. Treading carefully to work from known to unknown.

However, Touya prays to the gods that you don’t use your quirk to see the way his heart pumps wildly and the way his breath hitches. It took him over a decade to muddle his brain with different memories to overshadow his past ones not wanting for the abstained shadows of remembrance to embrace him. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.

Dabi doesn’t trust himself.

“December 15th.” Your eyes widen when you realize the day was when you both had met. “I was your birthday gift then, huh.” You giggle, pressing closer to his body to feel the erratic thump of his heart.

“Guess so.” A good lie is always better than the truth.

That’s what he tells himself when Tomura asks where he’s been for the past couple of months. Vehement, crimson eyes digging into Dabi’s skull. He scoffs in annoyance, opting to tell the blue-haired man that he’d been out of town to scout for new members. Rummaging through underground areas where the average of villains was the thickest.

And yes, they’re all lies. He’s happy that Tomura is as dumb as he looks. Though it may be because Dabi has mastered the art of weaving intricate webs of lies- he’s grateful, nonetheless.

When Dabi turns away from him, Tomura’s eyes narrow.

Shigaraki Tomura isn’t as dumb as he looks. But Dabi didn’t know that -at least, not yet.

Here in the LOV hideout, where Dabi’s just a ruthless flame kindler, he finds no self-content, only impatience. Sometimes, taking part in Toga’s antics as a source of entertainment, her bloodlust too damn thick to ignore.

Impatience, a contagious drug that filters through Dabi’s veins and causes his blood to sear whenever he thinks about the overturn he wants hero society to so badly face. It’s the only way this ache of his can be soothed.

At first, it was just for him to bask in -for him to enjoy. For him to see a part of his past, burn. To see a rage of flames that -in time, turned to a cinder, his memories with it.

But now, he wants you to see it too. He wants to keep you tucked by his side as everything unfolds. Knowing this, he waits. Dabi’s not naive, this dream of his isn’t a one-man act.

Though, the biggest step closer to glory comes earlier than expected…

He’s a hero, the number two pro hero in all of Japan. His speed and the aid of his wings being his strongest suit. The information he provides is what still causes the Leauge to thrive. And the reason that Shigaraki now knows of the Meta Liberation Army. A powerful villain organization that rivaled Tomura’s very own. Led by a man named Destro, a name that every villain’s supposed to know. Kuriogi tells him this in his usual monotone voice, he’s the founder and now his son currently leads the army. The thing is, Dabi does know but for other reasons. His father was a hero after all.

Shigaraki orders Dabi to keep watch over Hawks. Sure, Dabi has his suspicions too, but he couldn’t differentiate if it’s the hostility he feels after he learns Hawks’ friendly relationship with Endeavor or for the fact that several missions had been deemed as errors because of the red-winged man’s mistakes.

Though, his stress dissipates when he comes home to you. It didn’t take a lot of time for Touya to get accustomed to your apartment. He’s used to living in shitty places, the League had been -and still is- living in one for months.

Fortunately, your landlord never comes around. You think it’s because of Touya’s intimidating presence but it stretches farther than that. Farther into the territory of what makes Touya into the fearful villain he is. But, you didn’t have to know that. Touya deliberates. You were stressed enough as it is.

Sometimes you’re not even home, late shift reminders overtaking your flimsy calendar. On those days, when you return, you’re so tired that Touya has to undress and bathe you himself. It’s never a toll, he enjoys listening to your barely decipherable recaps of your day, ones that sometimes turn into angry speeches of frustration that he’s sure to soothe with soft kisses to your pursed lips.

“Touya,” you whisper. Head in the crook of his neck while he lathers your body with body wash. Your head’s cloudy, exhaustion taking its home in your body.

“Mhmm.”

“Love you, like.. a lot.” The words bleed together with little to no pauses. It’s so slurred that Touya has to mull over it.

When he finally separates them in his head, he pauses. Eyes going wide as the grip on the pink loofah loosens.

Those words had never been emitted between you two. They were the three forbidden syllables that hung still, frozen in mid-air. It should’ve been easy to say. So easy to confess if push ever came to shove and the tides of adoration ever became too much to bear.

Despite that - in Touya’s head, his sole belief was that he was a package of damaged goods. What solace could you find if he ever told you that he loved you? Would it bring you happiness- fear?

Months had passed between the two of you, the light of winter and spring passing with intertwined hands. But what if- what if- you didn’t love Touya as much as he thought? What if you stayed by his side because you took pity on him? Took pity on a man who had no efficiency, no worth, no value, and used it to your heart’s content to mend yourself together.

Unbeknownst to him, those thoughts had run aimlessly across your mind as well. Both of you were damaged goods. Both of you unfamiliar with the thrum of the common melody.

When you feel his movements halt, a part of you feels victorious.

Oh, how lucky you were for being high on delirium. This was a chance pulled out of luck’s pocket.

“Don’t gotta say it, I see it.” He lowers his gaze to see you staring intensely at his chest. Which no doubt encases an organ that beats wildly because of your words. For the first time in a long time, he grows embarrassed. A streak of red blossoms from under his scarred cheeks as he chooses to hide his head in your neck, inhaling the strong citrusy scent of your body wash.

Hesitantly, you brush your fingers across the expanse of his back. Careful to avoid rough skin. Hoping that with your touch, you can convey a message of understanding.

I love you Touya and I know you love me.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

On a week that you’re finally off from work, you choose to spend it with Touya. He‘s barely out anyways. When you ask him why he’s never out doing villainy things. He answers with, “to spend time with you, princess.” A chortle at the end of his sentence when he sees you duck your head in embarrassment.

“Wanna go dress shopping with me tomorrow?” You ask, taking a handful of potato chips in your palm, focus still on your tv show -which Touya believes is the most boring thing he’s ever come across.

He turns to glance at you, eyebrows knitted as he contemplates.

He knows he shouldn’t, situations where his identity might be discovered, wouldn’t be good for the both of you.

And if Tomura were to find out…. the possibilities were too endless and Touya would keel over before he put your life in jeopardy.

But he still says yes- he’s never actually seen you wear a dress, he tells you. A subtle smile adorning his lips when he sees yours. He doesn’t ask why you want to buy a dress all of a sudden but he doesn’t mind.

The next day, you dress him up in a big burly coat that you had found at a thrift store years ago. Touya scrunches up his nose in disdain as you pull it up to cover his purple-hued scars, the fabric smelling oddly like sulfur. If it weren’t for the way you seemed so focused on hiding his identity he would’ve discarded the clothing a long time ago. He thinks the last straw is when you plop a pair of dark sunglasses on his nose.

“Don’t look at me like that!” you fuss. “I tried my best.”

“Was your best option really a combination of coat and sunglasses?” He exasperates, voice coming out muffled.

“What... I can’t hear you?” You cup the back of your ear, feigning curiosity.

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “Whatever, let’s go.”

You grab your silver coat from your rack and walk outside, both of you making it to your beat-down Honda. As Touya shuffles in the passenger seat you can’t help but giggle at his uncomfortable posture, they turn louder when he turns to glare at you but fails miserably, his intimidating face shrouded by the coat and glasses.

When you enter the boutique a small ding of a bell hits your ear. You smile in victory once you realize the vacancy. A short lady with gray hair waddles towards you and Touya. “Well, hello there!” She exclaims her soft voice matching with the appearance of her shop. Sweet and adorable. “What are you two looking for today.” She walks closer to you two, her motherly aura shrouding you in contentment.

“Well… I’m not entirely too sure,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back. “But something blue and flowy.” You hum.

“Blue and flowy, you say?” She turns. “Follow me.”

You turn to glance at Touya, whose attention is already on you. You grab his hand and follow behind. She leads you to a wide room, the smell of laundry detergent filtering through the air. Your eyes widen once you see the rows of dresses adorned in plastic.

“These are all my babies.” She waves and turns to you with an expectant look, eyes crinkling as she gives you a warm smile.

“They’re real pretty, aren't they?” You nod. “Well, the dressing rooms are back there.” She points to the far right. “If you need anything just come to me, I’ll be at the front desk.”

You walk towards the small corridor of dressing rooms and pick the first one you see. Pushing Touya into the stall, you place your hands on your hip after clicking the door shut. He takes his sunglasses off and shoots you a quizzical look.

“Show me your flames,” you breathe out, palms growing clammy as nervousness starts to set in.

You wring your hands as you watch his adam's apple bob, his stare turning hard. “No.”

You cross your arms and plead. “Please Touya, I wanna find a dress that matches your flames. They’re probably really pretty… don’t know why you won’t show me.” Your voice trails off.

He had an idea that this would happen sooner or later. There were times where you did see his flames but those were accidents. He always made sure to quickly extinguish them when he caught your peering eyes.

His chest floods with guilt once he sees your disappointed expression. He didn’t think his flames were pretty. He’d melted too many flays of flesh to count. The last thing he wanted to do was show you the bright-tinged spirit responsible for his grave sins.

But one dilemma Touya has is that he can’t ever seem to jump over the weak spot he has for you. So, he gives a meek - fine.

He watches your features light up with glee, only hoping that you wouldn’t regret asking him for this. “Can I take the coat off, first?” You hum, scrambling to do it for him. Revealing his plain white tee and his dark black jeans.

“Step back for me,” he whispers, gnawing at the bottom of his scarred lip. He opens the palm of his hand- to first, show a tiny blue flame that sways languidly. Progressively, he increases the flame until it engulfs his hand and upper wrist. When he looks up from his palm to your face, he’s surprised to see that your eyes aren't menacingly calculating or searching for release from fear. Instead, you look on in astonishment.

He sees the reflection of his flames in your eyes and from that circled mirror, a tiny nibble of his conscience starts to ebb with pride of his quirk.

After gushing about how pretty his flames look, you commit the color to memory. Dashing out of the stall to search for a dress, humming a tune when you envision his reaction to seeing you in such a nice, quaint dress on such a special day.

He perks up once you unlock the door, expecting you to change and show him what you’ve found. But instead, he’s met with your smiling face and what seems to be a dress -shrouded in a velvet coverup. “Don’t look so disappointed.” You wag your finger in front of his face. “You’ll see it soon.”

When December rolls by with chilly air as company, you start to see Touya less and less. He never does tell you what exactly it is he does while out doing villain work. Though, he did tell you that his absences would occur more and more since he and his league were working hard to take down a villain organization.

Your eyebrows had furrowed at that. “I thought villains were supposed to band together,” you asked, head resting on his thigh as you stared up at his face. “Not ones with different philosophies,” he had said, hand suspiciously inching closer and closer to your chest. You hummed, still confused.

It might sound naive, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Hero society didn’t interest you. You couldn’t say villains did either but Touya was one. One of the bigshots.

Once, when you’d seen him on the little tv in the corner of your break room, it took a lot in you to not crack a smile. Though the idea of bringing chaos into the world with wide arms made your nerves rack with trepidation, you had Touya, and that seemed like enough.

Fortunately, Touya not being home was a benefit to your plan. You’d already scheduled your days off for work and booked the reservations for the fancy restaurant that was at least an hour’s drive from your apartment building. It was hard work, but for Touya’s birthday, it was all worth it.

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Shigaraki Tomura does not like to be lied to.

If he had written commandments for the people he came across, that would be his first line, golden engraved. It’s an unexplainable feeling he gets. If he could, he’d describe it as an itchy, hot coil that warps across his skin. It’s not painful, it’s simply annoying. And he feels it nearly every day. The scars that mar his neck being a result of it.

Why does the world have to be riddled with so many liars?

Dabi’s a liar, he knows that much. Hawks, that red-winged hero may be one too, but he’d deal with that when things finally came into play.

Now, he focuses on the man Dabi truly is. Villains lie. Shigaraki knows this, he’s a villain too. But- he tells the truth when it comes to his goals.

He tells the truth with what he wants.

What he wants LOV to bring.

What he wants society to flood with.

So why couldn’t Touya Todoroki do the same?

Shigaraki Tomura’s smart and Dabi is a fool to not see this. Who came up with the plans? The missions? The very concept of LOV? Sure, AFO had shaped him into who he was today but he was the same man locked in Tartarus, not Tomura.

When Tomura finds the roots of Dabi’s lies through Kurogiri’s peering eyes. It takes an hour of pleading for the ghastly man to convince Tomura not to find Dabi and disintegrate him into a fine pile of dust.

“Why should I!” Tomura shouts, his ruby eyes glaring into Kurogiri’s yellow ones. “He lied to me.” Shigaraki spits out the word so hastily and it’s as if saying the word itself was a sin of its own. Kurogiri nods, silently transmitting his words of understanding, not wanting to raise his temper even higher.

“But Dabi’s an important member of the League, Tomura.” Kurogiri coaxes. “In a week or so, we’ll be off to fight with M.L.A. If anything give him a warning, a threat. Just don’t kill the boy.” Shigaraki takes a second to glare at Kurogiri but eventually, his shoulders sag with defeat.

Even though Dabi had committed the gravest sin, he’d show mercy.

Begrudgingly, he grabs the cup of orange juice from Kurogiri’s hand, his thoughts flying at a fast pace, anger refusing to subside. All until his thinking cogs get stuck on one idea, one thought.

The thought crawls out from his mind and paints his expression with one of sickening glee. His smile so wide, that rivulets of blood dribble down from his cracked lips. His tongue darts out to lap up the tangy liquid as he gets high on this idea, on this revelation.

Shigaraki Tomura needs Dabi but Shigaraki Tomura does not need you.

Tomura knows everything about you, your background, your parents, the countless homes you had to reside in, where you live as of now- where you and Dabi live as of now. Where you work and what exactly you’re planning to do on the 15th day of December. It’s terrifyingly easy to uncover reservation logs.

You’re a pretty woman, Tomura could admit that. But you were a stain in his perfect, webbed canvas of the future. Those countless months where he had expected Dabi to be his righteous subordinate and listen to his demands were spent with you. Cooped up at your run-down apartment doing god knows what.

Tomura’s teeth grit as he digs into the flesh of his neck, specks of blood underneath his fingernails while he fervently scratches the already scabbed skin. Kurogiri glances over at him, seemingly reading his mind.

“I’m leaving.” Shigaraki swipes up from his dusty seat. Oh, how he missed the elegance of his LOV’s old hideout.

“Don’t forget AFO’s orders concerning Gigantomachia.”

Tomura blinks once, twice. “That thing has way too much HP.” He breathes out.

“For now, I need to do something else.” He whispers, bringing his embalmed hand to rest on his face.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

Whenever Touya thought of coincidences he thought of the word luck. It was a coincidence that Touya had been at the same bar as you, a coincidence that because of your lack of care for hero society that you’d glossed over the fact that he was a villain. But as Touya stood in your empty apartment, bloody and bruised from his prior fight, his connotation of coincidences slowly turned sour. A bitter taste sat on his tastebuds as he read over your note.

Happy Birthday Touya, my love.

meet me at the Burqoues Restaurant!

Take an uber…. I don’t have any money for one

(using it on the restaurant money)

so I’ll just take my car.

p.s. you’ll get to see my dress.

It was a coincidence that the day he told you was his birthday was the very day the League of Villians had merged with the Meta Liberation Army. Touya didn’t know what this grappling hook of fear was, but as he saw that your Honda was still idly parked in that weird angle you always had a habit of doing -it came to take its hold around his neck.

Maybe you’d actually found a couple of bucks and took an uber instead. Right?

You were probably in the restaurant, ordering that expensive champagne you really wanted to try. Ready to show that pretty, wide smile you always gave Touya when you saw him.

Right?

Touya couldn’t think- couldn’t breathe as he sped down the street. His grip on the wheel was so tight that his staples were close to popping. The loud ringing in his ears drowned out the persistent honking of cars that he nearly collided with.

What should’ve taken an hour took a measly twenty minutes. Without a second thought, Touya was already out of the car.

Upon entering, he received perturbed glances. He didn’t blame them, his clothes were bloodied, several staples unhinged from the skin.

“S-sir?” a tiny voice squeaked. He glanced at the receptionist desk, the bright chandeliers illuminating her meek stare that looked borderline terrified. He probably looked like a villain.

“D-do you have a reservation.”

“Yes.” He answered gruffly, head craning to see if he could catch sight of you.

“Your name please.”

“Touya.” He gritted, eyes focusing back on the receptionist who didn’t seem to believe him. She ducked her head to check, eyes scanning frantically.

“Oh, yes!” She smiled, it was too wide to be real but, frankly, Touya didn’t care. All he needed to know was that you were here.

“Table 15.” She pointed. “You won’t miss it.”

Touya didn’t bother to reply, legs already scrambling towards what he hoped would be you. Ignoring the stares that followed behind him.

Table 12

Table 13

Table 14

Table 15-

Touya's heart nearly stops, vision tinging with black as his knees nearly crumble beneath him.

You weren’t there.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

When Touya returned to the now, Paranormal Liberation Army hideout, Shigaraki had given him a smile so sweet that it had caused Touya's blood to run cold.

However, Touya did not pry, choosing to ignore the guilty glances the rest of the league sent his way. And he hated himself for it, hated the coward he'd grown to be in such a short period of time.

Later on that night, he returned to your desolate apartment, choosing to take a cigarette from your half- empty pack.

Yes, Touya despised cigarettes but at that moment they'd never tasted so sweet. His lungs didn't itch, he didn't feel abyssal. He just felt— soothed. As he took several drags, Touya silently pleaded for the nicotine to somehow make every fiber of his being believe that you had decided to finally leave.

That you had finally realized that a villain like him was no good and would only put your life at risk.

However, his façade had cracked when he'd found multiple files on your desolate laptop, drafts of your story in the making. The first page dedicated to your love for giving you the motivation to publish your first ever book.

And at that moment, for the first time in his godforsaken life, Touya wished he could cry. To show you, somehow that he was grateful for everything you had given him. That he was thankful and sorry for letting his mirror that reflected thousands of moments with you -your arms cradling him, him cradling you- shatter into fractured pieces.

As Touya Todoroki sat on a velvet sofa, arms wide and camera ready, a piece of his brain fabricated the image of you next to him --adorned in a sapphire blue dress, showing him that pretty, pretty smile that he’d grown to love, he told you —and told the world the story he never had the chance to.

To simply, atone.

#dabi x reader #dabi angst #dabi fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha angst

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Note

Jesse/Lake for Day 18, its late at night and they're both awake watching a movie and don't feel like going to bed yet, so Lake suggests they go out to the lake outside for a night swim.

(Ao3)

- So, why do people hate this movie, again?

- I think it's because the book was bad, I guess? - Jesse replied - And it was bad because... er... it was for girls and had vampires? And girls don't like vampires?

Jesse and Lake exchanged confused looks as the two got progressively less and less interested in the teenage drama movie.

Bored by the emotionless actors, Lake looked longingly through the window, enjoying the night's warm air, and thinking back to the past afternoon and their trip to the lake to combat the Summer heatwave.

And as those memories clouded her mind, she patter Jesse's shoulders and tossed an idea.

- Hey, let's go back swimming. - W-What, now? - Jesse's eyes widened at his friend's sudden proposition - Yeah, why not? - It's-it's late! My folks would kill me if I sneak out... - You're not a kid anymore. - she countered, playfully ruffling his hair. - Yeah, but I;m still living with them...

Lake shrugged.

- Okay, suit yourself.

And without any hesitation, she opened the window further and climbed down onto the lawn.

- L-Lake! - Jesse tried to contain his voice - Oh, darn it...

He threw his phone into his pocket and followed her, hoping to get her attention. But as soon as his feet got to the ground, she grabbed his hand and pulled him, and soon the two were running towards the same lake the two spend and entire afternoon cooling their heated heads.

Illuminated only by the full Moon, the two had no problem finding way through the trees that separated the lakeside from the outskirts where he lived.

The two went through the forest, and as Jesse tried to keep up with her, he noticed the light of the Moon shining occasionally from her, and only when they emerged, he realised why, and that made him freeze in place.

In the light of the Moon, Jesse could see her silver back reflecting its light without any obstruction, as she took her shirt away, revealing lack of her bra.

Lake stretched her arms, and tossing the shirt to the sandy ground, she stepped towards the water, seemingly unaware of her friend's predicament.

But when she noticed his absence, she turned around, and that made him gasp audibly, turning in place as well.

- What? - Er, well... - Jesse answered, his voice cracking. - Oh, come on. - Lake snickered - Don't be such a baby.

For a while, she didn't do anything, waiting for him to respond, and only when he heard the metallic noise of her jeans being unbuckled, curiosity got over his common curtsey, and he looked back.

He gasped again, seeing his friend's silvery form in its all glory, shining bright in the moonlight, as she tossed her panties and trousers onto the same pile.

The warm air did nothing to stop him from shivering, and as their eyes met again, he found himself unable to do anything, frankly.

His eyes marvelled at the sight of her naked body: her modest breasts, her ass and the alluring triangle between her legs. Even though he has seen her in a swimsuit just a few hours earlier, Jesse found himself mesmerised by her body, and the fact that he could see himself in it made it even weirder.

Though only after a while he realised that also meant she got closer to him.

- Hey, are you still with me?

Lake stepped closer and gently poked him, nearly making him fall to the ground, as his eyes darted across her body.

- Don't tell me you've never seen a girl naked. I've seen your browsing history... - N-No-hey! - Jesse interrupted himself, as Lake erupted into laughter.

She once again grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, prompting him to undo his clothes too. He watched her disappear into the waters, as he fumbled with his buckle and shirt, and soon enough found himself just with boxers... and an obvious problem.

He wanted to turn around, but realised that this would only make his situation more obvious, as Lake hurried him, playfully splashing water around them.

- Come on! - Yeah, I'm-I'm coming! - Woah, woah, wait - Lake protested as Jesse was about to enter the water, keeping his hands in front of his crotch - No clothes. - What?!

Jesse spread his arms in protest and realising his mistake, he moved them again to hide his erection. But Lake was faster, and when their eyes met, he could see a wide, sly smirk on her face.

- We're doing anatomy lesson today, come on. - she swam up, giving him a slight glimpse of her breasts again, before she turned around.

Without her piercing gaze, Jesse followed her orders and slid down his boxers, before jumping into the water to hide his obvious arousal.

The cold water cooled him only a bit, and as Lake swam towards him soon, his heart was still beating at a tremendous pace, while his naked companion seemingly didn't care.

And as he contemplated the crazy situation he was in, a sudden splash of water hit his face.

- Tag, you're it!

And with that, Lake disappeared underneath the water, prompting Jesse to swim after her. Despite his athletic build, as well as his swimming skills, she was still faster and more agile than him, and the fact that she could dive underwater for seemingly forever helped her stay away.

Every now and then, Jesse was teased with a glimpse of her silvery body and the reflection of the Moon, mixing with the one in the water, almost as if she could dissolve herself in it...

But she didn't know these waters as he did, and when Lake emerged from underneath the water, she found her chaser to be missing... until he splashed her from behind her and grabbed her shoulder to spin her around.

- Got ya!

Jesse announced triumphantly, and only after a moment, the child-like wonder was replaced by the sudden realisation that he was now inches away from the naked girl he was chasing.

In her eyes, he could see a new, fiery spark he hasn't seen yet, and the reflection of the Moon was now accompanied by a sudden tint of red on her cheeks.

- You sure did...

Lake spoke, as she swam towards him, until her chest touched his.

- L-Lake! - he suddenly spoke, catching her off-guard. - What? - Listen, I don't- I-I've never- - I know. I told you, I've seen your browsing history. - Lake smiled, as she threw her arms around his neck.

Their lips met each other, and it was more difficult to establish which one of them was more surprised: Jesse, that he was now kissing a woman, or Lake, that her lips and body acted as if they were no longer metal, as she melted herself into him.

She let out a loud moan when his fingers dug into her waist, and before her now-boyfriend could ask if he has done something bad, she replied with more ravenous kisses that silenced him.

Lake closed her legs behind his back, feeling his erection between her cheeks, and as their eyes met, she dived her hand between them, coiling her fingers around him, watching as his eyes widen.

- L-Lake, you-you are so-so-good and soft...

She was, which was a surprise to her as well. Her sturdy body was changing, all because of him, and driven by her curiosity, she had to see how much.

She moved her palm around him, listening to his angelic cries filling the air around them, until he was babbling something incoherent, followed by a much more distinctive name.

At the same time, his fingers weren't idle either, and though she had to steer him into correct place, Lake for the first time felt overwhelming pleasure, as his digits massaged her folds that parted itself underneath his touch, something she didn't know her body could do...

In the same moment, the two young adults thrashed against each other, as their bodies convulsed in their first joined climax. A moment later, water around them got a bit whiter, though Lake quickly waved his essence away.

- Lake, I'm-I'm sorry... - Ssh, it's okay. - she huffed, hiding her own excited state.

She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips against his, letting their long kiss soothe their body.

- Lake, you know... - he suddenly spoke - I think I now know the whole fascination with the sparkly skin...

Lake blinked.

- Wait, what? - From-from the movie, with the vampires, and their skin, you know! - he explained - Cos the girl found it so fascinating about him, and, and your skin reflects the Moon, and, and...

It took him a moment to realise that Lake has been staring at him with a bewilderment in her eyes, as he continued to ramble on.

- I killed the mood, didn't I? - Oh, you annihilated it!

Lake burst into laughter that echoed throughout the lakeside.

- Next time after searching "how to kiss a girl" make sure to look up some good pickup lines. - she mocked him, as the two walked out of the water - Actually no, you will mess them all up.

She jumped in place, shaking her body from the droplets of water, until Jesse handed her something.

- I brought a towel in my backpack.

For a while, Lake stared at him agape, and when she took it, she returned a sly smirk.

- Well, that's a good one...

Instead of drying her skin, she spread it onto the ground, and before Jesse could protest, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her for the third time this night.

#jesslake #lemon #smutember #nautiscaraderfics #aged-up characters and all that #smutember 2021 #smutember2021

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shadows-of-fate · 3 years

Text

When Dragoons Fly...

Colors of red and orange melded with a deep blue as the morning reached up to bid the evening farewell. Nhea's tired eyes peered out into the desert sunrise from the bow of the Barghest, her mug of coffee in hand as she slowly delighted in the waking pleasure of the caffeinated beverage. She had brought aboard her belongings needed for the voyage the night before after having left a small social tea party with a handful of her company members where a new addition to the mission's crew was attained. With everything prepared to set sail, she simply awaited Osric's arrival while taking in the familiar and comforting sounds of a busy crew.

“If I’d known you were going to be up this early I would’ve made my way here sooner. I’ve found in recent months I don’t need as much sleep as I used to.” Osric wandered up behind her, the same bag he’d had with him the night before slung over one shoulder, a pair of daggers at his hips, and lance in hand. He set the bag down at his feet, laying the lance down to rest on top of it as he came to stand next to her, adjusting his jacket, effectively hiding the daggers underneath. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, taking a moment to glance out at the sunrise for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the Miqo’te next to him. “So, to business then. Do you really not have the details about who we’re after and what we’re supposed to be returning, or did you just not want to share it with the group last night?”

A low chuckle rumbled in her chest at the sound of the familiar voice approaching behind her. "I slept on the ship." She began as her attention turned sidelong to him with a grin. " You're fine. We're just completing a few routine checks but should be ready to take off at any moment." His question caused her to purse her lips as she turned fully now to rest her back against the wooden boards. "Who, yes and I know where to find him. What, all I know is it's family relics."

“Family relics, hm?” He tapped the toe of his boot against the deck before taking a few steps, his brow furrowing for a moment. “Well...doesn’t that just sound messy.” He turned on his heel, facing her again, uncrossing his arms and slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I’m tempted to ask how you know the individual we’re after - but I feel the more appropriate question might be how much of a headache are we in for?”

Her lips curled into a bit of a grin as she looked up to him, falling silent for a moment while emptying the contents of her mug before clicking her tongue. “Honestly it depends…” The raven haired miqo began, pausing only to clear her throat a bit as she waved a nearby crew member over and pointed to Osric’s things to usher them to take his belongings to his cabin if he liked. “...on if he remembers me or not.” The final words came as a bit of an after thought but the meaning held true that there was some sort of history between her and their target.

Osric quirked an eyebrow, leaning down to pick up the lance, leaving the bag to the crew member, offering them a quick ‘thank you’ before slowly turning back towards Nhea. “On whether he remembers you or not?” He exhaled slowly, before chuckling - slowly shaking his head. “Well - I get the sense that this is going to be an interesting trip, at the very least.” He twirled the lance in his hands before planting the bottom of the weapon against the deck. “No sense in delaying. Shall we...captain?”

“Mm, we can leave it at that for now.” She reached over with her free hand, nudging his arm slightly as she flashed him a wink. With his words to be on the way, Nhea motioned toward the upper part of the ship in which the helm awaited her.

Expecting him to follow behind, she made her way up the stairs that led them to the helm as she took a deep breath with a wide smile. “Care to join me while we set off?” After her question to him came a slurry of commands to the crew below them as the sails were adjusted and the ship roared to life and their course was set. “Our first stop will be in Limsa, we’ll dock there and travel outside of the city toward Summerford. Our friend was last seen there, let’s hope he stuck around.”

Osric did follow, doing his best to keep out of the way. “Summerford isn’t exactly large - not an ideal place to hide out if one’s goal is to actually avoid being found.” He settled next to a nearby railing, leaning back - slowly turning the lance in his grip. “How...difficult to find is this friend - usually?” His gaze shifted from the crew shuffling about back to Nhea at the helm. “Just...out of curiosity.”

An idle hand rested on the large wheel, the wind picking up as their speed gained causing her dark locks to sway behind her shoulders. “No, I don’t suppose he’s exactly in hiding. If I recall correctly, he’s got a bit of an ego.” Her gaze held forward for a long moment while she spoke though as the way seemed to be clear, she glanced over to Osric with a grin. “It’s not finding him I imagine will be the difficult part.”

There was a long pause as the dragoon seemed to focus on the lance, idly turning the weapon in his hand. He chuckled, reaching up and running his free hand through his hair before easily meeting her gaze. “It sounds like you already have an idea of what the ‘difficult’ part is going to be - care to share?” He didn’t seem bothered by the notion that things might be a bit more complicated than originally implied - complicated meant a challenge, and a challenge meant more focus on the work at hand.

Her chest rose slowly as she inhaled a deep breath before releasing it with patience. Nhea turned to the woman that had been standing off to the side, a red headed Miqo’te holding a small brass telescope to her eye to gaze further ahead of them. She was instructed to take the helm while the captain stepped aside to join Osric against the railing to lean on her forearms to look out over the side. "For starters, he's a brute of a man but as sneaky as they come. If we set eyes on him, it's probably best we don't lose those sights." Shifting now to rest sideways so she could address him directly. "As for the 'if he remembers me' part...I might have done a job with him a few years ago...where I might have taken off with the entire sum of earnings instead of sharing after leaving him stranded in the desert." Lips pursed in thought before she offered up her ever familiar wide and playful grin.

He drummed his fingers along the grip on the lance, his other hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his amused gaze met hers. “You might have, huh? Then it sounds like an individual who might hold a bit of a grudge. I’ve never been stranded in the desert or had all of my earnings stolen away before, but I can recall some situations with not so favorable outcomes that ended up being very memorable.” He let his hand fall away from his chin, tilting his head towards her. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that this friend of yours is probably expecting you, but would he be intelligent enough to plan for you? You mentioned he was a brute, not that he was smart.”

Shoulders lifted in a shrug as she coyly continued to grin as he spoke. Nhea never had a problem double crossing people for her gain but having settled in with the Ashen Wolves, she found herself mellowing to some extent. "It's hard to say honestly," Her tone had found a bit more seriousness now as she began thinking of what they might walk into. "Unless he sought me out specifically to settle that grudge but that would have been quite the work to track me down over a little disagreement. Either way, should be on our guard."

Osric paused, glancing out over the horizon for a moment. "You learn very quickly in this line of work to stay on your guard, no matter the job. One wrong step, one second too late and that could be it.” He shifted his gaze back to her with a tired smile. “There’s almost always a hiccup of some kind. I don’t imagine whatever this ‘friend’ of yours has cooked up will be any different. But -” he took a moment before pushing away from the railing and stretching with an extended inhale. “...we won’t know until we get there. No need to stress about it now. What time do you expect us to arrive in Limsa?”

"Hm…" she hummed as she stepped forward to extend a hand to retrieve the small telescope from the other Miqo’te to gaze through the brass tube in front of them. "I'm always on guard, Osric. But also I learned to adjust quickly if needed and go with the flow of things." Nhea smiled as she glanced over her shoulder to him before looking up at the large sails of the ship. "Shouldn't be too long, the wind is at our back and we're making great time. But if you'd like, T'khau can show you your cabin to rest a bit more before we get there." Nhea looked to her first mate with a smile who nodded in response before looking to Osric for his decision.

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, I was able to get more than enough sleep before we left.” He tilted his head from side to side - stretching his neck for a moment before offering the crew member a quick nod. “Besides - if it shouldn’t be too long, with my luck I’ll end up falling asleep right as we arrive. Unless that’s a nice way of telling me to get off your deck…” He trailed off, shifting his gaze back over to her, curious.

Nhea offered the telescope back to the other woman with a bit of a chuckle as she shook her head slowly and stepped back up to the wheel to take the rungs in hand. “I had a feeling you would say that and no- you’re welcome to stay. In fact..” She looked back to him with a grin before motioning to the wheel with a certain look in her eyes. “Ever flown a ship before?”

Osric paused, glancing over at the helm and then back to Nhea, still with the curious look. “No, no I haven’t.” He set the lance down - he’d been holding it the whole time - and loosely crossed his arms over his chest. “I can only claim to have been a passenger a handful of times...are you offering to let me?”

She perked up even further and seemed to slightly bounce in place as she stepped aside and gestured to the wheel once more. “Yeah!” One hand remained on a single rung as she waited for him to take hold of it entirely. “Just hold it steady, we’re straight on course so it would be hard to get us too far off. All the hard stuff is mostly seen to by the rest of the crew, steadying the sails and such.” A hand lifted to remove the object that rested around her neck, flicking the lid open to reveal the compass inside to show it to him. “Should stay heading north west, where it is now and you’ll be good!”

He slowly lowered his arms and approached, cautiously stepping up and gripping the helm - mindful of the direction the arrow within the compass was pointing towards. “I’m not sure if this is an act of trust, or pure entertainment, but I’ll do my best not to somehow get us lost.” He offered another small smile as he adjusted his grip, shifting his gaze from the compass up at the sky before them - checking back every few minutes to make sure they were still on the right course. He was so focused on the task at hand, that it wasn’t until several minutes later that he realized the individual standing next to him was not Nhea.

“Where did she…?”

“Sleep - she’s in her cabin, we’re to help bring the ship into dock and wake her up when we arrive.”

Osric’s jaw clenched for a moment as he sighed before he shook his head with a small chuckle - glancing up just as Limsa started to come into view.

It was sure to be an interesting assignment...

(This will be fun. Blurbs with @osric-slater-ffxiv)

#Nhea #The Navigator #Osric #Flying lessons with Captain Nhea #ffxiv #ffxiv roleplay #balmung #miqo'te

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baybee45 · 4 years

Text

Ka’ra

A/N: Always scanning the crowd Jabba the Hutt notices his favoured bounty hunter staring at his new toy. You.

Boba Fett x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Warnings: Deals with mature subjects (slavery, women being objects, canon typical violence)

The air was stale and seasoned heavily with spiced t'bac smoke. Each inhale burned your lungs as if the roasting-spit fire behind, had actually been set up between your ribs. Searing their edges with each breath and charring your heart. The jewel tone fabric of your barely their outfit only cemented the notion you were forced to swallow, to accept as truth; you were an object, a thing. To be looked at, lusted for, and eventually replaced once the sparkle of your newness was eroded away by greedy, corrosive hands.

For now you wait, laying as still as possible next to the dozing, humid belly of the Hutt, counting the seconds as they slowly dripped by. If you are nothing more then an ornament on Jabba slab of a throne. He is nothing more then a snot nosed child, who had pushed and murdered his way to where he now sits. A king on top of a putrid garbage pile. A crime lord overseeing a kingdom of filth, scum and treachery. His palace was as oppressive as the afternoon heat outside, a place where bright futures come to wither and die.

An excited whisper enters Jabba the Hutt’s ear as he and the crowd begin to stir. A silent anticipation was growing loud in the hushed room. It was punctured only by the clinking of metal descending down the entrances stairs. Curiosity gets the better of you overriding your fear of punishment. You look up from your own predicament to view another’s.

A man in green Mandalorian armor enters, a halo of musty light forms behind him. He brings with him a dead men. A breathing corpse. Fear had clawed itself so deep into the Rodian’s face, terror oozed out with each reluctant step forward. After a swift kick to the back of prisoners legs, he falls before the Hutt and like a house of cards he flolds onto himself. Dust dances and twirls around after each laboured breath from the Rodian’s trembling body.

The dead men's mouth quivers as mumbled words try to make their way out. ‘Please’ you hear finally manage to slip past. The word not even able to lift off the floor, shudders and gasps. It lies dead besides him before it could even reach the Hutt’s ears. The Rodian drags his eyes like an arduous weight off the floor, latching onto yours. Desperate. Pleading. Not for mercy but for the only thing you can give; sympathy.

(Sympathy: the comfort in knowing you are seen. To be seen; the personal belief that your presence was felt by others.)

So like a solemn hug after terminal diagnosis you hold onto his gaze tight. In it's reflection you see yourself; standing there at the mercy of Jabba and his childish whims. With each passing day you know your own value decreases. It is only a matter of time befor— the trapdoor opens.

The screams of the Rodian are quickly enveloped by the jeers of the blood thirsty audience's own rowdy shouts. They in turn are only quieted by the sound of a spine snapping crunch of the beast's jaws. An eerie silence always seems to follow. It lingers only momentarily, swept away by Jabba's hand motioning towards the band to play one of his favourite tunes. Everything carries on as normal and lets face it, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

You have not been around the Hutt long enough to understand his bellowing tongue but you could tell he was talking about you, because his grubby hands passed your leash off to his Majordomo, a rat of a men, Bib Fortuna. His beady-eyes and sharpened and pointy teeth only reinforce your theory. Without warning Jabba's rat pulls you forward. Barely able to catch yourself, you struggle to get a footing and keep up behind him. He drags you through the debauch crowd still gathered around the viewing grille, watching the rancor finish off the last bits of the Rodian. He pulls you past them with a steady and uncompassionate pace.

"For you Boba Fett, as thanks from Jabba the Hutt. For dealing with the last problem in record time. And bringing some much needed, uh, entertainment for today." Bib speaks in a sugary sweet voice that causes the few occupants of your stomach to threaten to leave.

Whipping you towards the man wearing tarnish green armor, you stumble into his lap. The rat then pulls your heavy chain taut, bringing you inches from his sharpened teeth. Your knuckles lose blood flow and you're positive bruises would’ve been left on the man's legs if it wasn't for his armor, as you try desperately to avoid being pulled any closer to the Majordomo noxious breath.

"Make him happy and don't try anything, if you do..." The rat sneers and his free hand clutches your face, his long and yellowed claws dig deep into your soft skin.

"... Jabba said next time he wont care if I bruise up your pretty little face." His tongue darts across his lips, savouring each word of his threat, his promise. Each hot syllable spewed out of his mouth, felt like a slap hitting you hard across the face. They left a swelling, invisible mark. The sting of it now has tears threatening an escape.

"Enough." Demanded Boba. It froze your tears, like a thin layer of ice in place and sent a chill down your spin. His voice was deep and expectant, he was not someone who was used to being disobeyed you quickly concluded.

“Remove the collar.”

"Ar-are you sure? She is new, and still a little... wild."

Boba cocked his head, amused by the notion that you had caused enough trouble to evoke such a warning. He shuffles you around as if you were a paper doll. You now half faced him and half faced the henchmen. Boba made sure the lock of your collar was facing Bib as an answer to the Majordomo concerns.

"Very well." Conceded Bib. Who takes extra time and added pleasure of causing you more discomfort as he roughly frees you from one of your two constraints. Avoiding eye contact with either of your captors, you focus down at the second: A long delicate but strong chain tying both your wrist together.

“Leave us.” And with that Bib scuttles back to his master, and leaves you alone with your temporary one. Boba would never admit to it but he had been transfixed by you the moment he entered the dingy throne room and saw you defiantly look up at him. Your quiet confidence had captured his thoughts and his recurring gaze. So much so that Jabba had notice. Bibs concerns and warnings only made him more intrigued by you. Boba couldn’t say what the color of your eyes are in this dimly lit alcove, but he could feel the fire behind them. Your tear stained, watercolour painted eyes couldn't hide the burning beneath. They matched the power of the twin suns of Tatooine he thought. You fascinated Boba more then any other gift Jabba had offered him before.

"Ka'ra." He thinks out loud, barely able to be heard above the music and hum of those in the room. It hits your shoulder, causing both of them to slump under its weight briefly before you can straighten again. Some sort of slang or vulgar term you assume. Then for a long time— a minutes or so— you just sit there. An offering waiting to be used but his gloved acidic hands lay idle.

Something warm runs across your skin, your frozen tears had managed to thaw and are now escaping down your face. They sizzled and burned your cheeks the same way rain would, if its droplets were to fall on the sun-baked sandy ground outside. You look away from the bounty hunter and mistakenly towards the roving eyes of Jabba. He does not like to see his playthings cry. Especially when they are entertaining a favoured guest. His booming voice sends his henchman scurrying towards you with a malice glint in his eyes, his promise so quickly to be satisfied.

You quickly turn yourself around straddling Boba and putting your arms around— He roughly grabs your wrists. The chain of your shackles clinks as it hits the hard metal of his helmet. Placing your hands against his armored chest, he makes sure none of the chain had gotten behind him. Instincts had taken over, protecting himself from an unforeseen attack. Boba’s hands then quickly find the back of your thighs pushing you closer to him. Only for a split second does a hand leave your bare skin, motioning to the Majordomo. Waving him away like a pest. His touch wasn't how you imagined. It was soft almost... kind. In sharp contrast to how he dealt with your wrists, they still felt the dull ache from his reprimand.

"Ka'ra" He said as you stare lost into his emotionless visor, looking at a familiar but unknown reflection. Ka’ra? He said it like it was your name. Your name? You can barely remember it. Like a foreign word it makes your tongue feel thick and stupid.

After you were sold, you would use your name like a swear word every time the slavers tried to beat the individual out. You recited it like a fervent prayer each night. Until one day you realized, no one was listening. No one would be rescuing you. And Names? Names are for people not things. The next day you were deemed ready and gifted to the great and powerful Jabba the Hutt.

The bounty hunter suddenly stands up taking you out of your thoughts and up with him.

"Come." He orders as he lowers you back to the ground. You follow him up the back stairway through cavernous belly of Jabba's palace. There is no fight, there is no point. Choice is not a freedom you have. Besides a man receiving gift from Jabba is not a man to be trifled with.

#boba fett x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #star wars #boba fett #star wars the clone wars #star wars tcw #soft boba fett

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mythicamagic · 4 years

Text

Impostor Syndrome: Sesskag oneshot

Summery: Kagome is resurrected by a grief stricken husband- brought back to fill his late wife Kikyo’s shoes. While the characteristics unique to Kagome are rejected by Inuyasha, there’s a certain Daiyoukai who has a fascination with her blue eyes, sun kissed skin and curling hair.

Rated T (angst, relationship drama, romance and hurt/comfort) 7,000+ words.

AN: Inuyasha plays a more antagonistic role here but in case you’ve never read my stuff before, just know that I do like him and love me some good platonic best friends Inukag, as seen in Conversing with Emotion and Swimming in Silk. It’s just that I like to play around with the characters, so forgive me for how he’s written in this one.

No smut here but please enjoy.

Impostor Syndrome

There once was a young man who married for love. Born a half-demon, he never anticipated anyone loving him, let alone a priestess; enemy to his father’s kin.

But just as he did not fit in with demon or humankind, she did not belong within the role assigned to her either. An extraordinary woman wishing to be ordinary. To be free from the weight of expectation placed upon her shoulders.

And so they’d fled.

After marrying for love the young man experienced pure, quiet happiness with his wife. She had a calming spirit that could turn hard as flint, blinding in her cold ruthlessness. She could slay enemies efficiently and with poised control yet turn soft and loving for him alone.

They lived for a time together in the forest, keeping to their personal haven.

Because of her skill, the young man trusted her power not to fail on the night of the new moon.

He howled his grief and despair long into the early hours of morning after discovering her broken body lying in the grass of a clearing.

But that was not quite the end of the man who married for love. Instead, he attempted to play God.

—-

She took her first breath and broke into a coughing fit. Rising up from the cold floor, a young woman shivered. Glancing down, she found herself covered in sticky sweat, completely bare.

“Kikyo,” someone breathed, barely above a whisper.

The young woman started. Her hand was caught between two larger ones that clasped her fingers tight, squeezing. Blue eyes raised to the stranger with muted confusion.

He blinked with equal confusion and mounting anger, sniffing. “You don't… smell like her,” the words came faintly. “Why doesn’t she smell like her!” He burst, causing the woman to jolt.

“Master Inuyasha, the spell you desired is a finicky one.” A slippery, hoarse voice came from behind them, dripping fake pleasantries. “Be patient. Your wife may not look or smell quite the same but her memories will return from the dead.”

Inuyasha glared over his shoulder at the witch who lingered in the entrance to his hut like an unwanted spectre. “She better. This ain’t what I agreed to,” he stood, fists trembling.

The girl at his feet stared with furrowed brows, uncertain why disappointment brimmed in the stranger’s eyes. Nonetheless, he seemed to try and correct his attitude, reaching down to grasp thin arms. Roughly tugging her to stand, he supported her around the waist when she wobbled. “I guess we’ll just take this slow,” he sighed. “I’m your husband, Inuyasha. And your name is Kikyo.”

She blinked and tried to steady herself on trembling legs, frowning.

The very first words out of her mouth were;

“I’m not Kikyo.”

—-

Perhaps those words didn’t help endear her to Inuyasha. Nonetheless, he resolved to start from scratch.

‘Kikyo’ was given his late wife’s clothes to wear, smoothing the priestess robes over her body. However, with every opportunity, the woman slipped out of the robes in order to wear a yukata or kimono instead. Anything but the miko attire. It set his teeth on edge. At least she held the holy power of a priestess like his wife.

She understood his language and already knew the basics of reading and writing. Inuyasha took this to be a good sign since his late wife had been educated.

When it came to other things, the woman tried her best to learn the necessary herbs for healing as instructed. Yet her attention often wandered away, lost in a daydream.

“Oi,” he grunted. “Focus. Kikyo was dedicated to this stuff.”

“But we already have enough herbs from yesterday,” sighing, she straightened and rested the basket of herbs against her hip. “Can’t we do something else?” Blue eyes lingered on the treetops. “Is there a beach near here? I’d really like to see the ocean.”

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “Where’d you hear about beaches? I never took Kikyo to one.”

She continued to gaze longingly at the trees, as though looking through them to somewhere else, somewhere far away. Inuyasha grit his teeth, bristling. Grasping the woman’s chin and turning it slightly to better inspect the structure of her face, he tsked. “Damn it… wish your eyes were brown like they used to be,” he grumbled. “Hurry up and remember everything already. You’re not acting right.”

Blue eyes slid away, lips thinning. “I’m just acting like myself…”

“Keh, you ain’t anyone else but Kikyo,” dropping her chin, he straightened. “Things are weird right now but they’ll go back to normal as soon as you remember, I promise.”

The young woman buried her feelings anew. She’d been doing that a lot lately. When he walked away and called for Kikyo, it took her a moment to remember that she’d been assigned such a name. It didn’t sit right on her tongue.

—

Inuyasha lived fairly isolated within the woods with his wife. However, there were those who knew where to find him. Namely: his half brother.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you used it?”

“I have used it.”

“Experimenting with the sword on Jaken and a little girl does not count,” Inukimi hummed with amusement, watching her son with dancing eyes.

Sesshoumaru’s narrowed, head tilting back and brushing long silver hair over his shoulder. “As this one has stated numerous times; a sword of healing is a useless prop for a warlord to wield.”

His honoured mother hummed, resting her pale cheek in her palm boredly. “I do wish your Father were still with us to temper that disrespectful tongue of yours. Consider my words, pup. That sword should be used, and preferably to save a life that is precious to you. Don’t squander it, dearest. I thought you hated wasted potential.”

With a snort, Sesshoumaru took his leave. Disappointment radiated off Inukimi but he hardly cared. Whatever ‘lesson’ Father had intended for him to learn about Tenseiga was ultimately useless for a demon like him.

Returning to his own stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to the reports from his advisers, before making his way down a hallway. Strange that his blood did not sing with the thrill of victory. Reports of his army’s success in battle were usually a favourable thing. Lately, however, there was no burning satisfaction. Perhaps he merely needed to visit the front lines again for himself. Jaken was most likely instructing Rin in her morning lessons at that time, so he made his way towards the gardens.

Whispers flitted into the air, irritating his ears. Sesshoumaru zeroed in on the hushed mutterings and paused mid-step. The Lord of the Western lands did not care much for idle gossip, yet a particularly prevalent one kept cropping up lately.

“Did ye hear? Master Inuyasha’s wife perished.”

“The priestess Kikyo?”

“Mn- and do not repeat this but I hear he revived her with the use of dark magic.”

“No!”

“Yes. Though I suppose he’d need to rely on such means. It is not as though Lord Sesshoumaru would lend him Tenseiga.”

At the mention of his name, a frosty gaze swung to the servants down the hallway. They squeaked and hurried away.

Though he loathed agreeing, the validity of their statement couldn’t be denied. He and his brother were not ‘close’ by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Sesshoumaru felt mildly curious about the whelp’s situation.

This curiosity resulted in the Daiyoukai gliding through the sky that afternoon. It took a few hours, but Sesshoumaru followed his memory towards Inuyasha’s humble hut. He did not land gracefully before the house, instead keeping to the surrounding bushes. Moving near silently under the heavy shade of the trees, pointed ears twitched.

Thwack.

Sesshoumaru scented the air and minded some low hanging branches aside, revealing the figure of a dark-haired young woman in the clearing ahead. She drew a bowstring back and arched her spine slightly, pulling taut. Taking in a breath, she released in time with the arrow sailing free.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly, watching it fly through the air. Blazing, rippling light flowed around it like a fireball, crashing into the target and licking at the paper with burns before fading away.

“The hell was THAT?!”

Sesshoumaru dazedly forced his attention to Inuyasha, who stomped into view. “One: ya missed the bullseye! Two: your stance was wrong, and three: Kikyo had amazing control over her powers. She never woulda let them loose like that! Ya stupid or something? Do I gotta tell you the basics over and over?”

The miko sighed and dropped her arms, making a face. “Can’t you encourage me for once and say ‘good job?’ I try my best every time!”

“I’ll tell ya 'good job’ when you do one!”

Sesshoumaru raised a brow, watching as Inuyasha fell quiet. He reached up and contemplatively curled his fingers into the woman’s thick dark hair. The woman stilled, becoming watchful.

“It’s startin’ to kink at the ends again. Go wash it,” he grunted so softly Sesshoumaru’s hearing strained a little to catch it.

Blue eyes dimmed. The woman broke from Inuyasha’s touch to flee, hurrying away from their training grounds.

Sesshoumaru pursued.

Silently moving through the trees with all the grace of a jungle cat, limbs shifted and eyes assessed, gleaming bright in the shadows. Sesshoumaru leaned against a tree, remaining hidden by the foliage. The sound of muffled sobs reached his ears, almost buried under the noise of a waterfall. Salt fanned through the air. The woman knelt in a pool beside the falls, stripped down to a white underlayer yukata. She poured a bucket over her head, shuddering. Biting back sobs, she miserably combed shaking fingers through her hair, pausing to inspect the naturally curling dark locks.

“Just flatten. Why can’t you stay straight?” She sighed.

Sesshoumaru rose a brow as the young woman raised an arm, pushing back her sleeve to glare at her skin. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

When she did not elaborate, he found himself walking through the greenery, pushing past the bushes to inquire: “What exactly has your flesh done to offend you, madwoman?”

Starting violently, she fell back to land on her ass, creating a small splash. Blue eyes flew wide, flitting over his figure. Sesshoumaru let her drink him in. He often had that effect on people.

She gathered herself a little quicker than expected, rising. “I was just annoyed about being so tanned. My uh… husband,” the word was faint and sounded almost like a question. “He said his former wife was pale but she spent all her time outdoors. How’s that possible?!”

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, tilting his head slightly. “Hn. This one was led to believe Inuyasha had resurrected the priestess Kikyo. However, you seem more like a replacement than her double.”

Flinching, she began ringing her hair. Water droplets slid down rosy cheeks and fell from the dark, dishevelled strands of midnight black locks. The white yukata plastered to her body almost indecently.

Sesshoumaru lifted his eyes from where they’d been lingering and caught her gaze. Colour leaked into her cheeks, darkening them further as she huffed. “You know Inuyasha, then?”

“This one is his half brother, Sesshoumaru.”

“Oh,” her eyes clouded with thought. “I didn’t know he had a brother. I don’t get to talk to anyone else but he still doesn’t tell me much about himself.”

Sesshoumaru watched as the woman bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m-” she caught herself, lips thinning. A dark look crossed her features before the name was pushed past her teeth like mud. “Kikyo. I'm… Kikyo.”

“No, you are not.”

The woman jolted and stared, fingers curling into her sleeves tightly. “I don't… have another name,” came a fragile murmur.

“Then give yourself one,” he uttered flatly, uncertain why he lingered. He supposed it displeased him on some level. Sesshoumaru did not like unnecessary waste. What he’d witnessed earlier of her powers hinted at a deep well of untapped potential in the girl. She’d likely not unlock it if Inuyasha kept her mind on trivial details like 'straight hair.’ “This one gave himself the name Sesshoumaru, or Killing Perfection. When a demon comes of age, they may choose a new one for themselves,” he elaborated. “I have been bred for war. So that is the most fitting name.”

She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, before raising her head, lips curving. “The 'killing’ part, sure. But 'perfection?’” She teased.

“I am very good at it,” he said in a silky tone.

Bursting into a laugh, the strange woman gave the brightest smile the demon lord had yet to witness, blue eyes glimmering. “I see. Thank you for the advice. I’ll do that.”

He frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little odd. Hyper aware of his lack of reason to be there now, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and walked away. In his eagerness to leave, he quite forgot to check in with Inuyasha himself.

A few days went by before Sesshoumaru made the journey back to Inuyasha’s home once more. Peace reigned throughout the Lord’s lands so he allowed himself the 'entertainment’ of watching Inuyasha’s latest drama. It was most definitely not to glimpse the miko again, nor to monitor her progress.

She seemed to have improved her aim, yet the reiki remained unfiltered and untrained. What was Inuyasha doing?

Ah, it seemed he was in the middle of their latest shouting match.

Clearly yelling would not make the girl learn any faster. Golden eyes cut to the sky. Why did he have to get involved?

“Concentrate your energy into the arrow.”

“Huh?” The woman glanced over her shoulder, now left briefly unmonitored by the whelp. She shifted the bow and arrow in her hands, dressed in traditional red and white miko attire today. They made her look like a Kikyo doll. “I don’t…know how,” she confessed. “It always feels like there’s so much of it. Like I’m trying to hold onto water that’s pouring too quick. I can cup a little into my hands, but the rest overflows.”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze ripping itself away from the light catching in her hair, causing some strands to shine a strangely blue hue. “Practice yields results. Eventually you will manage to filter the 'water’ into the arrow and allow the excess to flow back into you.”

She nodded and faced the target, elbows drooped and feet too close together. Biting back a sigh, he approached.

A hand met her elbow, pushing to raise it. “Keep your arms in this position…” his deep baritone became clogged with a velvety rumble, finding her scent not unpleasant when it brushed over his senses. His palm met the base of her spine, prodding to arch her back. She felt warm to the touch.

He then slid a foot between her own, nudging her legs to part wider. A rapid heartbeat thundered in his ears. “This is the correct stance.”

“A-ah, thanks.”

With a palm pressing against her back, Sesshoumaru felt it when she inhaled a breath, coiling static energy into the wooden arrow and releasing it.

The arrow flew free, missing the bullseye. However, the holy powers raced over her bow in an agitated manner before settling back down instead of scotching the target.

Better, he mused.

She gave a much louder whoop of success.

From that day on, he visited the miko in secret once each week. It pleased the slumbering desire within him to witness the smile come to her lips the instant blue eyes fell upon him. Like she’d been waiting. Whenever they met and the demon’s knuckles grazed her waist- her arm, her hair- the woman scrubbed herself afterwards in a hot spring or pool, mindful of Inuyasha’s keen nose.

Sesshoumaru’s voice was crisp and clear, instruction brief and to the point in his teaching. She tried her best as his pupil, grumbling sometimes but not outright complaining. Instead, the nameless woman threw herself wholeheartedly into what was demanded of her.

Two months later, she finally hit the bullseye with perfect control. Not a hint of reiki over-spilled.

“I did it!” The woman glanced over her shoulder to look up at him, beaming from ear to ear.

Sesshoumaru stared. Her happy scent washed over him in waves. His lips parted to drink it in easier. Faintly, the sleeping want for her stirred and stretched awake like a disturbed cat.

It was while staring that the dip of her collar hinting at succulent flesh laying just beneath- that something caught his eye. Her clothing shifted downwards, revealing a glimpse of something unmistakable.

A love bite.

The situation suddenly dawned on him, the ridiculousness of what he was doing. He should not get involved with Inuyasha’s wench. Hell, he shouldn’t even be there. What was he doing? He had wars to plan, subjects to lead. And yet he’d been waiting each day for that favoured time he’d visit her anew. Mentally he took a step back.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He frowned at the familiarity with which she used his name. At his pensive silence, dark brows pulled together and she bit her lip maddeningly.

Foolish miko. This one’s teeth should be the ones to catch your lips and bite down-

“Oi, Kikyo!” Came a distant shout.

They both jolted, Sesshoumaru raising his head. He did not run nor hide, because Sesshoumaru did not flee from anyone.

From out of the forest greenery, Inuyasha burst forth, snarling. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers. “I thought I smelled ya. The hell are you doing here, Sesshoumaru? Back off. That’s my wife you’re hovering around.”

“Is that so?” He uttered, raising his chin in a lofty manner. “She is so changed in appearance and scent this one mistook her for a different human entirely.”

Out of his peripheral vision, the woman flinched. For some reason, this set his teeth on edge. She should not think it an insult. Inuyasha’s words were starting to infect her, seep into the woman’s self-image, rotting it like poison.

Not that this one cares.

Inuyasha snarled. “She’s gonna go back to normal soon, it ain’t any of your business!”

“No, it is not. In fact, it is far beneath my notice,” he uttered, claws flexing. And then because he could, Sesshoumaru blurred through the air and struck. His fist plummeted into Inuyasha’s cheek, sending the hanyou sailing away and crashing into the ground.

His half brother sputtered and snarled, sitting up and holding his cheek. “The fuck was that for?! You wanna fight?”

“I have little inclination to linger here any longer than necessary,” Sesshoumaru lied, turning on his heel and passing the miko. Sadness fanned out from her scent, irritating his senses. She didn’t look at him, which the Daiyoukai found displeasing and unacceptable. Nonetheless, he walked away.

—-

Dark, wild hair had been tamed back into a low ponytail the next time he saw the miko. It was unfortunate that she happened to also see him. Oddly, the usual method of concealing his youki hadn’t worked, and she’d zeroed in on his presence within the trees. Perhaps she had much-untapped potential.

“Sesshoumaru?”

Gracefully dropping from the branches elicited a gasp from the woman. “Y-you’re injured!”

Sesshoumaru glanced at his shoulder wound. Blood had leaked into the red crest patterning his clothes, dying it a deeper crimson. “Hn.”

“Don’t you 'hn’ me! What happened? Why aren’t you treating it?” She fussed, approaching to grip the clean material of his white silks and try to pry them away from the wound, squinting at the slash marks.

“In a few hours this one will be healed. There is little reason to fuss, woman,” he tried to bat her hand away but surprise froze his veins when she caught his striped wrist. Her hands felt soft and smaller than his own, but firm and sure.

“I’m going to fetch my supplies. You wait here or I’ll damn track you down myself, got that?” She threatened, blue eyes sparking in such a way that they made the male twitch and wish for a different kind of touch from the miko. Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, watching her hurry away.

When she returned, Sesshoumaru had reclined against a tree, arm draped gracefully over one bent leg. The woman dropped to her knees before him and reached for his collar, gaze flicking to his wordlessly for permission.

He granted it by glancing away mutely, throat tight. For some reason, saliva pooled in his mouth the moment she began undressing him. It was foul to be affected so. She only aimed to aid him. Still, Sesshoumaru sat rigidly still while her gentle scent flitted and teased his senses.

“I think I’ve found a name for myself,” she hummed while cleaning his wound.

“Hn?”

“It’s Kagome.”

“That is acceptable.”

She giggled, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I did not say that.”

Kagome bandaged the flesh, despite him informing her that it was not necessary. He also did not stop her. Every faint brush of her fingertips became distracting, silently invited.

“It’s a really nice day,” she hummed, wiping her brow. The humidity made her bangs puff up. He hated that he found it endearing. “Perfect beach weather day. Does Rin enjoy going there? I’d love to meet her and take her paddling,” she babbled and cooed.

“I have not taken her. Why do you wish to go to the beach so badly? You mention it often.”

“Huh? I don’t think I’ve talked about it to you before?”

Sesshoumaru fell into moody silence, inwardly kicking himself. Thankfully she carried on, thinking she had a faulty memory rather than accusing him of eavesdropping. “I don’t know why exactly. I just keep feeling like it’s where I’ll find something important. Like I can see this image in my mind of the sun setting beyond the waves. It’s peaceful, but also kind of scary at the same time. Maybe it’s the last thing I saw before I died? Who knows.”

He glanced down, feeling hot breath fan over his exposed chest. “Hn…I suppose you were brought back from the same place Inuyasha intended to pull Kikyo from.”

“Mhm, though I don’t remember anything else about my previous life.” Kagome shrugged, fixing the silks back over his bandaged shoulder and smoothing the hankimono back into place over his chest. She fixed his collar with gentle hands, fussing like a wife.

A wife…

Sesshoumaru frowned slightly, startled to find her attention on his mouth. His heart started to pick up, blood heating when those intoxicating blue eyes flitted up to drink him in.

She abruptly broke the spell between them by getting to her feet and picking up the forgotten bandages and alcohol she’d used for disinfectant. Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out to lock on her wrist.

Kagome stilled, lips thinning. “Please let go, Sesshoumaru.”

“Do you intend to return to that whelp in such a hurry?”

“At least I’m not 'beneath his notice’.”

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider. So, his words had truly been the ones to cause her sadness. They’d bothered her. His grip tightened slightly, causing her to flinch.

“You’re hurting me, let go.”

“A human like you should be beneath my notice,” he uttered, shifting to stand before her. Sesshoumaru took a step closer, leaning down. Pale strands fell loose from behind a pointed ear, rushing down to hide their faces from view behind a curtain of silver. “You are Inuyasha’s wench, a miko, a mortal. Many unsuitable things wrapped into one. And yet I linger…I wonder why.”

“So do I, since you clearly don’t want to be here,” she hissed lowly, cheeks blooming red.

Slit pupils grew a tad larger, dilating. Sesshoumaru inched closer, on the cusp of grasping something as their lips were but a hair’s breadth away- before she snapped her hand out, slapping him across the face.

Kagome ripped herself free, panting slightly and raising a hand to her lips. “I’m only good at archery now because you taught me, and I only wanted to be good at it because Inuyasha told me to be better. I have a name now because you told me to get one. I keep…doing things just because other people want them for me! You could’ve asked me to kiss you just then and I would’ve-” tears pricked her eyes. “Just like Inuyasha has asked me to kiss him and…”

She hugged her arms tightly to her body, shuddering and bowing in on herself, folding like crumpled paper. “I don’t know who I am. What I want. I-I don’t know if things would be any different with you, Sesshoumaru. So please, just leave me alone. You’re making me question things. I obviously do strange things to you too so let’s just drop whatever this is.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you are content with being his doll, then?”

“At least being a doll doesn’t hurt! He doesn’t see me, so it doesn’t feel as personal as getting rejected by someone whose opinion I care about!” Kagome snapped, light voice darkening into something raw and real. Sesshoumaru’s cheek stung despite her hand having left no mark, his skin too tough for such things.

Blue eyes filled with tears as she turned and fled, salt catching in the breeze.

—

Sesshoumaru marched with his troops. Remaining on the front lines of their latest battle, he raised his claws and bid the song of war to flood his veins.

The sensation did not come.

Bereft, Sesshoumaru found himself immensely sober with each life he took. The slash of his claws unhinging a jaw- his sword swinging to cleave a horse in two. All felt like a mechanism. Easy, flavourless.

After the enemy soldiers lay dead and he returned to his stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to his men. They made merry throughout the night, demons through and through.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?”

Blinking, he glanced down at Rin from where he leaned against a pillar. She yawned and rubbed her eye with a tiny fist. “You’re covered in blood, my Lord.”

He supposed he hadn’t changed clothes. Looking at the little girl that he’d resurrected on a whim, Sesshoumaru was struck by a troubling revelation.

The Killing Perfection hadn’t enjoyed the killing.

A strange feeling permeated his being, new and foreign. Such insecurity did not belong in a being carved from confidence, but the blemish was there all the same.

He wanted the beach.

Giving a long, extinguished sigh, Sesshoumaru pinched the bridge of his nose with bloodied claws.

Sitting up from the futon, Kagome hugged the furs to her bare chest. Shivering from the chill in the air, she glanced down at Inuyasha’s sleeping face, a snore rumbling out of him.

An emptiness crawled higher within the bowels of her stomach, threatening to consume her lungs and steal her breath. Kagome pressed a hand to her mouth and hurried out of the hut. She’d given herself away. Allowed Inuyasha to indulge himself in her countless times now. And it wasn’t as though the hanyou hurt her- but every grunt and curse, every pleasured sigh of 'Kikyo’ dug deeper into her heart.

She’d told Sesshoumaru it didn’t hurt, but that had been a lie.

Squeezing stinging eyes shut, Kagome took a wobbly breath. Taking a few steadying gulps of air, she raised a tear-stained face to the crescent moon in the sky.

Setting her shoulders, something quietly shifted within the woman. She slapped her cheeks lightly and exhaled.

The next morning, while preparing breakfast, Kagome stilled when a hand reached over and lightly tugged on her wild bangs.

“Cut these,” Inuyasha said easily. “Kikyo had short, chopped bangs. I can cut em off later if ya want-”

“No.”

The hanyou blinked and froze, ears twitching. He then did a double-take, frowning. “What’d ya say?”

“I said no,” she muttered, resting clenched fists on her knees. “And there’s another thing; My name isn’t Kikyo. It’s Kagome.”

Inuyasha stared for a long while. Slowly, bushy brows drew down. His lips thinned, golden eyes hazing.

Kagome held his gaze, feeling a thrill of warning rush down her spine. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d always been an impostor, from her very first breath.

—-

Many moons had passed by the time Sesshoumaru lay eyes upon her.

Remaining under the shade of the trees, he watched as she gathered herbs. Kagome wore miko attire, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Her skin looked paler, and he wondered if she’d either isolated herself indoors for a while or layered powder over her tanned skin. Even her frame looked thinner, from what he could tell.

The wild bangs that had fluffed up so endearingly in the humidity had been chopped into neater, more orderly bangs on her forehead. She did not chatter to herself or smile.

Rather, she worked diligently in silence. Inuyasha skinned a rabbit not too far away, his face content.

Sesshoumaru could’ve left things be then. He could have carried on with his life, never to be blemished or disrupted by confusing thoughts and desires for his brother’s miko again.

But then he happened to catch sight of her eyes.

Bursting from the treeline, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out. Inuyasha’s snarl was ignored as the demon lord seized the woman’s chin and lifted it.

Sombre brown eyes stared back.

His own began to shake. “You are not her,” he breathed.

Kikyo frowned, her voice tempered and steeled like matured wine rather than the bright, confident tones of the other miko. “What are you talking about, demon? Unhand me at once.”

Sesshoumaru remained frozen until a hard force collided with his side, knocking him back enough to release her. Bellowing out an enraged snarl, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out- locking tight around Inuyasha’s neck as they struggled.

“Where is the miko Kagome?” He demanded.

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “The fuck are you talking about? Whose Kagome?”

“Your wife!” Sesshoumaru snarled, flicking his fingers out towards Kikyo. “This is not the woman you had with you previously. Where is she?”

Inuyasha sank sharp claws into his striped wrist, but the Daiyoukai barely flinched. “Keh…ah I get it now,” he growled. “It wasn’t working out, so I asked the oni sorceress who first used the spell on her to reverse it. I then tried to bring back Kikyo again and it worked out,” golden eyes darkened slightly with hazy stability. “She’s back now. Kikyo’s returned to me. It just took a little time- had to remind her of all her memories, but this time it’s definitely her, not like the other one.”

The other one…

Kagome’s breathtaking smile briefly came to mind.

Sesshoumaru’s grip tightened until Inuyasha chocked and squirmed, sinking his claws deeper into the Daiyoukai’s pale flesh until they scraped bone.

“By 'reverse it’ what do you mean, whelp?” He snarled, throat so tight it strained.

“Gah!- she’s a doll again. A clay pot! Ogoranko took the clay body back!”

Sesshoumaru released him, sending the hanyou staggering to the floor. Heedless of the blood pooling to the surface, running down his tattered wrist, he turned and collected white energy around himself, bursting away from the earth within a bright, glowing orb of light. He left behind the reunited couple, Kikyo’s gaze apathetic as she watched Inuyasha struggle to catch his breath.

—

Flying as pure, unfiltered instinct, Sesshoumaru forgot himself. He was no longer a warlord bent on total conquest and domination of the lands. No longer an inuyoukai with superior breeding and impressive lineage. He was nothing more than the simple, consuming desire to see someone again.

The glowing orb blasted straight through the door to Ogoranko’s workshop. She shrieked and grabbed her scythe- but felt it be knocked aside seconds before a hand met her neck, grasping tight. Her head met the wall, grey hair flying around her as a harsh choke sounded out. She wriggled, trying to get free.

The light died down, causing her eyes to widen and narrow. “You are not one of my previous customers…what does the Lord of the West want with me?” She hissed.

“Where is the clay body you took from Inuyasha?” He uttered quietly, voice like the finest steel wrapped in velvet. A calm before the storm.

Her brows drew together in confusion. “I-if you wish to have a loved one returned to you, I can perform the spell-” his hand tightened.

“The body. Where is it?”

“Gah- ah! O-out the back!”

Sesshoumaru released her and sped outside in a blur of white. He moved around the back of the meagre house, heart dropping into the depths of his stomach.

A large, deep pit had been dug into the earth, opening wide and vast. Countless clay bodies had been dumped inside it like a mass grave. They were featureless, faceless, yet retained the arms, legs and the general shape of a human. Sesshoumaru stared down at their discarded forms.

A cough sounded out beside him, Ogoranko rubbing her throbbing neck. “They’re quite useless once they’ve been used one time. They can’t be reformed into clay or burned down. Only thing left to do is bury them. Urasue herself taught me the spell but my techniques aren’t quite as refined as my great master. I can fashion a new body for you though my Lord- ah…my Lord?” Red eyes widened with disbelief as he pushed off the edge of the pit, sailing down. “There is nothing down there,” she called after him.

Sesshoumaru ignored her.

Landing on a mound of bodies, he began filtering through the different scents left behind on the clay surfaces. Moving some puppets aside, he lifted a few out of the pile and discarded them, deaf to how they chipped or shattered. Pushing his sleeves up, Sesshoumaru worked with single-minded intent, skin becoming stained with dust as he dug both arms down through the piles, searching.

He began to pant. Panic erupted in his chest though he were in no danger. Sticky fear leaked into his body like tar. Where was she? Why couldn’t he…

The scent of salt caught his attention. Lifting his head, Sesshoumaru softly muttered to himself; “the beach.”

Ogoranko blinked, observing him. It wasn’t every day you witnessed a demon lord lose his mind, especially not one of his calibre. “Yes, the ocean is just south of here.”

Sesshoumaru looked at the bodies. Their heads were all facing forwards, staring up at the sky with blank, smooth faces of clay. His frayed attention slid over them, and he moved to another pile, catching sight of one head turned south just as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Reaching out, Sesshoumaru picked up the fragile body, lifting it into his arms. She looked exactly like the rest, no distinguishing features, save for her attention on the sea beyond.

“What happened when you reversed the spell on Inuyasha’s wife?” Sesshoumaru said faintly.

Ogoranko hummed, “I took her back here and then discarded her with the rest. Ah, did you favour her, my Lord?” Her voice dipped into suggestive tones. “I can resurrect her for a reasonable price. Say the word and I shall-”

“Now I see.” Sesshoumaru appeared next to her, gaze blank and removed. A thrill of warning rattled down the oni sorceresses spine at how perfectly calm and apathetic he appeared towards her existence. Like how one might view a candle they were about to extinguish. “You prey upon a creature’s grief and offer a solution. Something too good to be true,” chuckling in a deceptively gentle tone, he held the clay miko a little closer. “And if I gave her over to you, yes…you’d resurrect this body with a soul. But not hers. A random one. That is all you are capable of at your level.”

Organko quickly reached for the knife hidden in her obi, intent on striking it through his windpipe.

A hand impaled itself through her chest. Easily. So painfully easily he may as well have cleaved through butter. Choking, she cried out, staring into his merciless, wintery eyes, the likes of which she’d never seen in all her years of rifling through souls in the afterlife.

“Only a God can restore a soul to their rightful body,” Sesshoumaru uttered, rippling his hand free of her torso and shifting to hold the clay figure with both arms, walking away.

Ogoranko wailed and clutched fruitlessly at her wound, crumpling to her knees and bleeding out, never to rise again.

He took her to the beach.

Soft, pleasant oranges bathed the clay in a gentle glow. Sesshoumaru set the body down on the white sands, steeling himself. He then reached for Tenseiga with a bloodied hand.

Drawing the sword forth from its sheath, he inhaled the salty breeze, soothed when it combed silver hair back from his shoulders in a sweet caress. Tenseiga lay silent.

Frowning, Sesshoumaru gripped the hilt tighter. “You will do this thing for me and bring her back,” he uttered in a dark voice. “If my Father wielded you to resurrect life from a body that has recently been cut down, I will imbue you with my own will. Heed me well,” he fed youki into the blade, effectively mirroring Kagome’s imagery of running water. His burst forth like a geyser, forcing itself into the blade so quick the sword could barely contain it. “Find the soul of the one I seek.”

Tenseiga rattled, wishing to be free of him. Sesshoumaru held tight, threatening to break the sword in two.

Blue light burst forth from the blade, shining so bright it rivalled the setting sun. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and tried to focus on Kagome’s fleeting scent on the clay.

“Kagome. Come.”

A faint, flickering presence could be felt, drawing just out of reach from Tenseiga’s light. It hesitated, worn thin.

Blood ran down Sesshoumaru’s torn wrist, landing on the blade. “I desire you to join my side,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “However, it is your choice. If you must live, do not live for anyone’s will but your own this time,” the words came to him like a quiet revelation.

He then struck the blade down over the clay body.

Tenseiga made a noise of distress, blue sparks bursting forth before the light sputtered and died, swallowed up by the sun.

Sesshoumaru tried to force the blade to awaken once more, but it remained silent. Nothing about the clay shifted.

Sliding the sword back into its sheath with more force than necessary, thin lips peeled back to show gritted teeth. “Useless,” he chastised the blade. Easier to think Tenseiga was to blame than to accept that Kagome…bright, beautiful Kagome- should refuse to live again.

Giving one last look at the clay figure, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and padded away. He’d allow her to be taken by the sea she so adored, rather than dig a grave. His heart sat like a heavy stone within his chest. Every nerve ending shrieked, skin-crawling like it did not belong on his bones.

Crack.

Pointed ears twitched.

Crack.

More cracks joined the first, spilling out like spiders webs. The clay began to split, crumbling away like sand.

A woman sat up from the overcoat, coughing. Sesshoumaru stopped dead, turning back with disbelief. Golden eyes widened.

Broken clay fell from dark hair, catching in the curling, wild mane. Her tanned, bare skin caught the light of the sun. Frightened, wide blue eyes struck an unknown part of him right into his core. Sesshoumaru blurred through the air.

Strong hands caught her elbows as she tried to stand, the two kneeling together. Kagome sobbed as she bowed into him, wrapping trembling arms around his neck. Calloused palms, rough with years of swordplay, slid around her waist and dragged up her spine, bringing her into his warmth.

“I h-heard a voice, calling my name,” she said, voice tenuous and thin as she sobbed. “It was yours.”

“Hn, Ka-go-me,” Sesshoumaru’s lips peppered her soft hair, the shell of her ear, her wet cheek.

Giving a broken noise, she clung to his solid figure, blunt nails sinking hard into his back. He did not mind the sensation.

“S-say it again.”

Sesshoumaru ran his hands over her body, moving his mouth over her jaw. “Kagome.”

She shivered and bowed in on herself, hiccuping. They remained like that for some time, Sesshoumaru unused to the burning, open display of feelings yet having no choice but to weather the storm of emotion with her, both hers and his own.

Feeling a wet and sticky sensation down her back, Kagome pulled away to touch the area above his bleeding wrist. “Silly, you’re injured.”

“It is of little consequence.”

“Of course its of consequence,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek. Silence reigned between them for a moment, only broken by the gentle crash of waves on the rocks. The ebb and flow of the tide.

“…Why did you come back for me?”

Noticing the goosebumps racing over her flesh, Sesshoumaru curled mokomoko around her middle. Golden eyes flitted away towards the sunset. “This one dislikes waste.”

“Ah,” a quiet, fragile laugh escaped her. Gratitude welled up like an inflated bubble when he flicked the secures of his armour open and lifted it away from his chest, discarding it into the sand to land with a heavy thud. Pressing close with no barrier between them, Kagome tucked her knees up, sitting on his lap. Sesshoumaru’s trailing sleeves slid over her bare form, regal nose buried in her hair. “I don’t know why I even returned,” she mumbled. “I mean look at that. We’re on a beach at sunset. My one wish is fulfilled. I don’t really know what else to live for…just that I want to.”

“I find myself dissatisfied with my own wish these days. My desire for supreme conquest,” Sesshoumaru admitted, a sin, surely, for a warlord to feel no passion for the prospect of battle.

Kagome hummed, watching the waves. “Maybe it’s possible to simply move onto a new wish. Dreams and desires can change, can’t they?”

“Hn, we may yet find new ones to pursue.” Tired golden eyes slid down to her, catching the sunlight just as the great orb slipped beneath the horizon. “Together, foolish miko.”

Kagome lifted her head. She watched him for a moment, before pressing a long, firm kiss to his jaw. “I’d like that very much, Killing Perfection.”

Bowing his head to catch her soft lips with his own, Sesshoumaru cradled the back of her neck, curling long fingers within dark hair and silently adoring the way it tumbled wildly down her back.

The Demon Lord was not supposed to be a part of the man who married for love’s tale. And yet, like a bookend, the story ends with him on a beach.

Embracing the discarded woman.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi

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elizaxspears · 7 years

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Prompt: mortal slingphries, with Alan introducing Eric to his parents. Alan's parents don't care much for Eric which upsets Alan. Eric then reassures Alan that he'll stay with him no matter what their parents think.

Hello Anon! Sorry this took a bit to get to, but being sick sucked out all energy I had. Anyhow, hopefully you enjoy this!

The car sat idle on the side of the road, parked on the curb. The fingers on the wheel tight while he fought the urge to fidget. Beside him, his boyfriend of three years sat, concern etched on his face while he remained frozen in place. “Alan, are we gonna go ‘r jus’ sit here all night?”

Alan took two deep breaths then faced Eric, biting the corner of his bottom lip. “We can go, if you want. I mean, I can easily call them up and tell them you’re under the weather or something, or—”

Eric’s hand grabbed his own, peeling it off the steering wheel. “Alan, darlin’, wha’s wrong? ‘ve ne’er seen ye nervous like this before.”

Alan grasped Eric’s hand between his, taking another deep breath. “You’re about to meet my parents,” another breath, “and I’m scared what they’ll think of you.”

Admittedly, Eric understood he wasn’t the picture of a golden boy, but he liked to believe he had a welcoming, easy going personality to make up for that. “Hey, I might not make a good first impression, bu’ ‘m sure as hell gonna prove ‘m worth ya.”

That got a smile out of Alan, even if it was small and probably out of habit. “Just, promise me you won’t take anything they say to heart, alright?”

“Aye, I promise.” he lifted Alan’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Sae, wanna get this evenin’ over with?”

Alan sighed, dropping his hand to shut off the engine, reclining back in the seat. “I guess. Now or never as they say…though I’d prefer never.”

Eric dared to ruffle Alan’s hair before getting out of the car. He stood there for a good minute before Alan joined him at his side. He held out his hand and Alan took it, entwining their fingers before Alan lead the way up to the front door. With a final deep breath to gather his nerves, he knocked on the door.

In mere seconds the door was opened and Alan was ripped from Eric into a tight hug by his mother. “Mum.” Alan wheezed when he was finally released, offering the elder lady a smile then nodded to his father. “Dad.”

“It’s been too long since you’ve been home for dinner.” his mother said. “I’ve missed my boy.”

“I’ve missed you too.” he then turned to introduce Eric. “And this is Eric, the man I’ve told you about.”

“Pleasure tae meet you two.” Eric said with the best, welcoming smile he could muster, eagerly thrusting out his hand.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been sized up by the parents of who he was currently dating, but the way Alan’s father's eyes scanned him from head to toe then almost reluctantly shaking his hand set him on edge. Alan even looked uncomfortable. “Pleasure.” the man said in a dry tone. He did have a strong grip, Eric could give the man that.

“Well, there’s no point standing out in the cold. Come in, come in. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

They filed into the home, jackets and shoes were removed and Eric followed behind Alan and his father into the living room, Alan still grasping to Eric’s hand. “So, you’re Eric Slingby, correct?” the man asked, sat on an armchair while Eric and Alan took the couch.

“Yes sir.” he grinned at Alan. “Hope he’s told ye good thin’s about me.”

“Some things have been questionable.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “They were just jokes, dad. Really, Eric’s a good guy.”

“I will see that when he proves it to me.”

“Well, I’d do anythin’ fer Alan.” Eric said. “‘m not gonna say I didn’t sleep around ‘fore, but ‘m truly committed to Alan. ‘ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

“And how many times have you used that line?”

“Never.”

“I’m sure.”

Alan bowed his head, tempted to drag Eric back to the car and home. “Then what do you do?”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, ‘m a tattoo artist.” he gestured to the side of his neck where the start of one of his bigger tattoos showed. “Get a good discount working where I do.”

“I see you have plenty of those…things.”

Eric looked down at his arm, the sleeves rolled up revealing a ink covering his right forearm and disagreeing under his sleeves. A combination of celtic markings and flowers entwined around them. “I, ah, I actually got this one for Alan.”

“An entire arm for my son?”

“Well, it started small, but Eric wanted to go bigger.” Alan interjected.

Eric bit his lip right then and there. There was no way either of Alan’s parents would appreciate an innuendo joke. “I see.”

“Dinner.” came Alan’s mother from the kitchen.

Eric felt Alan’s father’s eyes on him as he stood. Part of him wanted nothing more then to prove visually how dedicated he was to Alan but the bigger part of him knew that would only end up getting him kicked out of the house.

What was, admittedly, a delicious dinner, it did nothing to erase the tension in the air. Alan sat next to him having barely touched his food while both Mr. and Mrs. Humphries stared him down as if he’d eat their son. “’s really good Mrs. Humphries.” Eric complimented. “Haven’t ‘ad a good meal like this since my own mum’s cooking.”

Mrs. Humphries tried to smile. “Thank you.”

Alan shifted next to him. “So, mum, dad, how have you two been? Haven’t spoken in person for awhile.”

“No, we haven’t. It is good to see you again, Alan.” Mrs. Humphries said. “And to finally meet your boyfriend.”

Eric looked at Alan then back to his mother. “’s a pleasure tae meet you two. Alan’s told me a lot about his childhood.”

“Has he? Well, I’m sure he hasn’t painted us as neglectful or anything.”

Eric shook his head. “No, no. Ye were good.”

Mr. Humphries huffed, sipping from his wine glass. “Alan, have you heard from Daniel at all?”

Alan flinched, dropping his fork on his plate; his food hardly touched. “No.”

“Mm. That’s a shame. He was a nice boy.”

“Yes, he was.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. “Daniel…?”

“An ex who my parents won’t let go.” Alan replied in a hushed tone.

“Well he was good for you.” Mrs. Humphries said. “He had a good job and treated you like a King.”

“Yeah, well, things happened and I didn’t love him anymore. All he did was try to please me on every little problem. He literally had no personality besides agreeing.” he put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “We have arguments, we have disagreements, we get angry at each other but at the end of it all, we still care so much for each other and will respect what the other has to say. He was devoted to doing anything that made me happy regardless of what he thought or wanted. I didn’t want that, mum, dad.”

Mrs. Humphries frowned. “It’s a shame you think that Alan. He could have been good for you. Better for you then other men we’ve met.”

“Yes, I’m sure to you he would have been perfect.” Eric swore he could cut the tension with his knife. He wasn’t even sure this was about him anymore.

When dinner was done, they left on a rather somber tone. Alan didn’t look happy at all, his lips curled down, his brow furrowed. “I was hoping they’d forget him.” Alan finally said when they reached the car. “But they’re adamant on Daniel being ‘the one’.” he removed the keys from his pocket, handing it to Eric. “Can you drive? Please?”

“Of course.”

Eric rounded the car, settling into the drivers seat, Alan close behind in the passengers. The car ride home was just as tense as dinner; Alan constantly wringing his hands together. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Whenever Alan got like this, Eric would never push the brunette. If Alan wanted to talk, he would on his own time. There wasn’t a point trying to press the info out of him.

When they got home, Alan said nothing when exited the car. Eric followed Alan inside and once the door closed, he hugged him tight, kissing his temple. “Yer okay darling.” Alan was shaking a little, but he didn’t push Eric awake, but he didn’t return the hug either. “‘m here whenever ye need me, ye know that.” reluctantly he let Alan go. “‘m gonna have a shower then join ye in bed, alright?”

“Yeah.” It was almost robotically that Alan wandered toward their bedroom. Eric closed his eyes, took a moment, then headed for the washroom. The entire time he stayed in the shower, he kept berating himself for how tonight went. He was meant to make a good impression on Alan’s parents and he was sure they thought he was some sort of delinquent.

After the shower, he threw on some black pyjama pants and began walking out drying his hair. Dropping the towel around his neck when he was done with it, he paused at the bedroom door, hearing Alan. Curiosity got the better of him and he pressed his ear to the closed door. “I’m sorry tonight went this way, dad. I just…no, I understand. I didn’t help things either…are you two mad at me?…thank you, but, what about Eric?…oh…yes, I see. Alright. Goodnight dad and tell mum goodnight as well.”

Eric heard a beep then sigh. Waiting an extra second, he knocked. “Alan? Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Eric pushed open the door, finding Alan sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in his hand, head bowed. “Darling? Are you okay?”

Alan lifted his phone, waving it a bit. “I called mum and dad. They’re not mad at me for acting so standoffish, but…but they don’t…they don’t like…you.” He lifted his head then, tears glistening in his eyes. “They don’t approve of you.”

Eric was right next to Alan instantly, enfolding the brunette in his arms. This time, Alan didn’t reject. He hugged Eric back just as tightly. There were tears but not sobs, Eric rocked them back and forth. “Alan, I know ’s gotta be hard tae not have yer parents like me, but frankly, I dun care.” he whispered, “they can hate me fer all I care, but that’ll never stop me from loving you. Never. I love you, Alan, so much and nothin’ would ever change that. Nothing and no one. I love you, I love you, I love you. Never forget that.”

Alan breathed in Eric’s freshly clean sent, grasping harder to him. “I love you too.” he replied, wanting nothing more then to just sleep in Eric’s arms like this. “Please, do let go.”

“I won’t Alan. I won’t. They’ll ‘ave tae pry yer body from my arms tae get me to let go.”

Alan nuzzled against him, closing his eyes. “I’m so happy I have you.”

“Ye always will.” he kissed his hair, returning the affectionate nuzzle. “Always.”

#slingphries #alan humphries #eric slingby #black butler #kuroshitsuji #my writing #Anonymous

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