#and laughed at scar’s agony

[icyhotheartwritings]

Things that happen when I leverage my birthday boy status to watch Hermitcraft on the big tv in the living room

[shadowdaddies]

I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual. 

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you. 

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue. 

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?” 

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek. 

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed. 

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core. 

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another. 

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body. 

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’ 

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see. 

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed  between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area. 

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

[kyra-cooneyx]

the power of love — l.wienroither x williamson!reader

summary: after signing with arsenal, you tear your acl and move into the ‘acl house’. you and laura grow close much to the dismay of your older sister leah

“now this is the kit you belong in.”

you rolled your eyes at beth, yelping loudly as an arm wrapped around your neck and yanked you down.

“it’s only taken her ten years to finally get that badge back on her chest.” katie teased and you clawed at her arm.

“let go of me!”

“don’t break her, katie,” leah laughed, stepping forward to help you out. “i’d very much like her to step foot on that pitch in one piece.”

as soon as katie’s grip loosened, you ran straight over to beth, taking shelter in her cubby. you glanced down at the arsenal crest on your jersey, feeling pride swell in your stomach.

unlike your sister, you didn’t sign with arsenal after leaving the academy. you signed your first senior contract with manchester city. of course leah wasn’t best pleased since you’d both been arsenal fans for as long as you could remember but ultimately she would support you no matter what you ever decided to do. needless to say, she was ecstatic when you told her that you’d signed for arsenal and would be transferring in the january window. and after two weeks of being back in london and training with the girls, you had your first arsenal start.

“nervous?” leah asked as the team made their way into the tunnel.

“a little.” you admitted, glancing back at her.

“you’ll be great, we williamson’s are.” she winked at you and a small smile grew on your face.

katie clapped you on the back as the teams began making their way onto the pitch and despite it being an away game, you could already hear the arsenal fans chanting.

standing in the joie stadium as part of the away team was surreal for you. it was once your home and with a quick movement of a pen, you had become a visitor. you shared smiles and quick handshakes with your former teammates before running off with your new ones.

“you got this little leah.” katie whispered to you and you rolled your eyes fondly at the nickname you’d been given.

and for the first ten minutes of the match, everything seemed perfect. or as perfect as things could be.

as you moved to kick the ball, your foot got caught on the ground and you fell the floor, clutching your knee in agony. straight away you knew what you’d done.

despite being on the other side of the pitch, leah somehow made it over to you before anyone else. her legs were moving before her brain could really register your cry of pain, hearing caitlin frantically calling for the medics.

leah knelt by your head, wiping your tears as the medical staff stabilised your leg. there was no argument to be had when she motioned for herself to be subbed off as well.

your sister held your hand through it all. through the initial examination, the news that you had indeed torn your acl as you’d suspected, even after you arrived back at your apartment a week later after your surgery.

in leah’s eyes you’d been the picture of strength. you hadn’t shed a tear—that she’d seen. and you held your head high as you hobbled around on your crutches.

and to you, leah had been your rock. a reason to not give up. she held it together for the both of you and not once had she left your side.

so after a few weeks leah decided to pop to the shop whilst you were napping—something you’d done a lot. but you woke up. and as you slowly began to realise leah wasn’t there, you looked down at your knee, tears burning in your eyes at the scars that littered your skin.

for the first time in weeks you let yourself feel. and you cried and cried, letting all the emotions you’d held back flow from you like endless waterfalls.

when leah re-entered the apartment and heard you crying, she panicked. she quickly placed the bags down before rushing over to you, pulling you into her arms and holding you tightly. she hummed quietly until you stopped crying, a shaky sigh leaving your lips.

you knew leah well enough to recognise her body language, she was tense and clearly holding something back. it was her turn to sigh and she gently ran her fingers through your hair. “bub, can we talk?”

“about what?”

“before you say no, i want you to really think about this, okay?” the tone of leah’s voice had you sitting up to really look at her. “i think you should move in with beth and viv. they can do more for you than i can right now. and laura’s there as well.”

your eyebrows furrowed and you could feel your lips trembling. “but why? this is—this is fine. we’re doing okay. i need you to help me leah, i don’t trust anyone else—“

“and i will help you in any way i can but i mean that they can do more for you up here,” she gently tapped your temple. “you need help with it mentally and i can’t do that for you. they can.”

leah watched as different emotions flashed across your face in quick succession and you looked at her. “you’ll come visit me right?”

“i’m not banishing you back to manchester,” leah laughed and you pouted at her. “you’ll be ten minutes down the road.”

“…but you’ll visit?”

“try and stop me.”

-

you moved into beth and viv’s house fairly quickly but you’d not made much of an effort to leave your newly appointed bedroom until you got the news that you could get rid of your crutches around a week later.

beth and viv were miles ahead in their recovery so you were thankful that you had laura—who had done her acl about a month before you. it was further proving leah’s point that you were exactly where you needed to be. and it was nice that a lot of the other arsenal girls popped in and out every day to see you all.

but with you off crutches, it meant that you had a lot more freedom and with a heavy heart, you attended a game at the emirates as a spectator.

at the end of the match, you couldn’t help but feel a little bitter seeing the girls celebrating with the fans. it wasn’t their fault but you hated that you weren’t out there with them because you should’ve been.

a finger lightly tapping your arm brought you out of your head and you turned to see laura smiling at you. “are you coming?”

you nodded with a smile, linking your arm through hers and following beth and viv onto the pitch.

once you were there, you walked as fast as you could to leah, throwing your arms around her. she chuckled and returned the hug, guiding over to where the girls had begun the huddle. you stood proudly between leah and laura, listening intently to kim. you waved to victoria—the other january signing—who stood across from you.

“celebrations at the acl house tonight i reckon!” katie called as everyone made their way into the lockeroom.

the suggestion was met with several cheers. beth and viv were more than happy to open up their home and that’s how you found yourself nibbling on a slice of pizza, listening to leah and katie squabble about exactly who it was that cheated at mario kart.

“you know, i like you,” someone said and you froze mid-bite, turning to look at steph. “you bring a much needed sense of calmness to this team.”

“thanks?”

“and you’re a lot easier to like than your sister.” caitlin added quietly.

you glanced over at leah to see that she was still arguing with katie and had she heard caitlin’s comment, absolutely would’ve kicked off. the three of you burst into giggles and you found yourself sticking close to the australian duo for the rest of the night.

but once the house had cleared, you found yourself in laura’s room, curled up in her bed whilst she slept soundly next to you.

-

leah was sat on the coach when her phone buzzed. she pulled up the text from beth and frowned down at it. suddenly she wished that the acl crew hadn’t opted out of joining the trip to broadfield stadium.

“what’s that face for?” lia asked the blonde, kicking her leg gently. leah slid her phone over, crossing her arms over her chest. “this?”

“yes.”

lia laughed and handed the phone back. “it’s a cute photo, what’s the problem?”

leah shrugged and looked down at the photo again. you were wrapped in laura’s arms, head resting on her chest. her arm was hidden under your hoodie, one of your hands gripping the one she was wearing. it was a cute photo but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

when the team arrived back in london, beth and viv’s house was leah’s first destination. after being let in by viv, leah found you outside with laura, the two of you huddled under a blanket, the austrian giggling at something you’d said.

“they’re cute, right?” beth asked, stepping beside her teammate.

“cute.” leah scoffed.

“you wanted this.”

“no i wanted to get her some support,” leah said. “not find her a new girlfriend.”

“laura’s a good person, leah, you know that better than anyone.”

leah’s jaw clenched. laura was a good person but so was your ex-girlfriend. but leah could remember that phone call like it happened yesterday, how you sobbed so hard that you could barely breathe or get the words out to tell your older sister that you had been cheated on and kicked out. and really the only reason leah didn’t end up in manchester is that chloe offered to take you in until you sorted yourself out with a promise that she and your other man city teammates would look after you.

“leah,” beth spoke quietly, tearing the other blonde’s eyes from you. “your sister really likes her.”

leah hummed in confusion until she looked down at the box that beth had put on the counter. she opened the box and her face softened a little bit upon seeing all the austrian sweets and treats sitting neatly inside. it was clear that you’d taken your time to arrange them and even to decorate the box. a soft sigh fell from her lips.

“oh hi lee,” she heard you say before your arms were wrapping around her in a hug. “my god beth, put that away before she sees!”

“oh relax, she’s still outside,” beth rolled her eyes and you narrowed yours. “fine. it’s going back.”

you smiled sweetly before grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and heading back outside. you held one out to laura who took it with a mumbled thanks, sitting next to her again.

“i do not think your sister likes me anymore.” laura said and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking over at the austrian.

“what? of course she does,” you insisted as laura shook her head. “laur, you are literally one of her favourite people on earth. you might even rank higher than me.”

you followed her gaze to the kitchen window just in time to see a flash of blonde disappear. with a quiet sigh, you mentally abandoned the plan you had and ventured back inside, giving leah a dirty look before grabbing the box from where it was hidden.

“this is for you,” you’d said quickly once you’d reached laura again, shyly holding the box out to her. “it’s a very late birthday present and a kind of thank you present, i guess. you’ve shown me kindness and patience over the last few weeks when i sometimes definitely didn’t deserve it.”

the silence that followed and the unreadable look on laura’s face had you thinking you’d done something wrong. there was clearly some line or boundary that you’d crossed and there was no going back.

but then laura smiled. a big toothy grin that had your stomach fluttering and your cheeks ablaze.

“where did you find all of this?” she asked you, hurrying to grab the box and rifle through the contents.

“online. there’s a few websites that have international food, i stumbled upon an austrian one whilst looking for a spanish one and… here we are.”

after a few taste tests of the ones laura deemed her favourites, the two of you laid back in silence, staring up at the sky. whilst you were content, you could see laura shifting every so often out of the corner of your eye so you reached out and grabbed her hand, entwining your fingers with hers.

and for a minute or two, it did feel make laura feel a little better but her mind wandered back to leah—and the glares she’d been on the receiving end of and your other teammates—who had told the austrian on many occasions that she needed to just bite the bullet and ask you out because you obviously fancied her too.

“laur,” you said softly, squeezing her hand to catch her attention. “you okay?”

laura nodded and turned to look at you properly, clearing her throat. “would you like to go out with me?”

your eyebrows furrowed slightly. “like… a date?”

“yes. a date.” laura confirmed, watching the grin grow on your face.

“well i thought you’d never ask.”

-

the fans erupted into cheers as the whilst blew, indicating the end of the match. without a second thought, you raced over to laura, throwing yourself into her arms. “i did it laur! i actually did it!”

“you did,” laura laughed at your excitement, bringing her hands up to wipe your tears before they could fall. “and i am so proud of you.”

the things you were feeling were magical and it took everything you had to hold back from pulling your girlfriend into a kiss in front of the sell out emirates crowd who had just witnessed you play your first full ninety minutes since returning.

“i love you. i know i don’t say it a lot but i really do—“

“ugh lovebirds enough!” leah shouted, throwing her arm around laura’s neck and dragging her away from you. “i’m kidnapping your girl, hope you don’t mind!”

you really didn’t. seeing leah and laura go back to the way they were before you came along was everything you wanted. and as the days passed, you grew more and more convinced that the happiness you were feeling would last forever.

[mochiwrites]

“G!” Scar grins as he sees the other approaching his train. He jumps down the ladder, landing with wobbly feet as he makes contact with the ground. “Just the birdie I was looking for!”

Grian lifts a brow, “Oh? What a coincidence. I was looking for you as well.” His wings flutter and twitch in response, folding neatly against his back. “Got any diamonds to spare?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve run out of diamonds again,” Scar tuts as he shakes his head in disapproval. Grian grimaces in answer, earning a disappointed sigh from the zoo keeper. “For shame, sir!”

“Just be happy I’m not skimming from the top of Ore Mountain again.” Grian squints at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I borrow a few or what?”

Scar makes a show of thinking about it, dramatizing his hum and tapping his chin. “You happen to have amayzin’ timing, considering I had something to give you.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head, looking at the other with curiosity. “Do I get the diamonds too?”

“Oh yes, of course, of course!” Scar joyfully nods, his warm smile not doing a single thing to cover up his salesman voice (as Grian has so lovingly dubbed it). “This would be an exchange of goods, after all! It’s only fair you’re compensated for your time!”

Grian stares at him for a second, eyes just shy of a squint. He doesn’t think there’s really an exchange going on, considering he’s not giving Scar anything in return; besides his presence, that is. He could point out to Scar that this isn’t an equal trade (barely a trade at all, really), but where would the fun in that be? He kind of wants to see where Scar is going with this.

Plus if he really feels bad about whatever this is, Grian can always find some way to repay Scar later.

Wings fluttering against his back, he shrugs. “Okay.”

“Great!” Scar beams at him, clapping his hands together. “Alright, I need you to stay perfectly still, no twitching a single feather, mister! Oh, and close your eyes too!” he directs the avian, earning an odd look from Grian.

“O…kay..?” Doing as told, Grian closes his eyes, curious. It’s definitely some surprise Scar has for him. But what is it? And why? He hasn’t missed any birthdays or anniversaries, has he? Maybe he can take a little peek… Scar never said anything about keeping his Watcher Eyes closed.

As if reading his thoughts, he hears Scar exclaim, “Yes that includes your funky magic eyeballs too, you pesky bird!”

Drat.

Grian sighs, resolving himself to the agony of waiting patiently. How horrible. Scar should feel terrible for making him wait like this. The build up is killing him! He’s eager with anticipation!

His breath stills as he feels Scar’s presence get closer to him. Grian can feel the warmth of his exhales as he releases them, all gentle and soft. Scar makes a few concentrated noises, and Grian can imagine the way his tongue pokes out from his mouth just slightly. He waits before feeling something being carefully set on his head, gentle palms combing through his hair. The feeling is followed by soft lips against his nose, as well as a little laugh as he scrunches his face.

“Okay, now open your eyes!”

Grian squints against the sunlight as his eyes open again, having to blink a few times before he looks at Scar in front of him. It takes him a second to notice anything different, setting a hand on top of his hair as he looks at the zoo keeper. He feels soft petals under his fingers, and finds that Scar has a crown made of sunflowers nestled in his hair. “Flower crowns?” he asks, confused.

“I made us matching ones!” Scar exclaims, his smile growing impossibly larger. “See I got the idea from Pearl after talking with her about doing a gift shop for the zoo—because you can’t have a zoo and no gift shop, that’s criminal!— and then bayum, it hit me! I’ll sell flower crowns as one of the items since I’ve got sniffers!” He gestures with his hands as he speaks, and Grian is captured by every word from the brilliant man. “I don’t even have a single enclosure of the zoo done yet but oh Grian I got so inspired, I had to do something with the idea!”

Grian can’t help his fond look as he sets a hand on his hip. “So you made some flower crowns?”

Scar eagerly nods, “Yup! I made them with you in mind so… who better to share the first try with than my pretty bird?”

The feathers on Grian’s wings fluff up at that. “You’ve got to be the biggest sap I know,” he sighs, although he finds the gesture incredibly sweet. “Though I have to ask, how is this an exchange? I’m not giving you anything.”

“Sure you are,” Scar argues, turning to set down his ender chest. “I get customer feedback and a free excuse to see you smile!” He looks at Grian, pleased, before ducking down to dig into his ender chest.

Grian decides right then and there that he’s going to kiss this man silly. Then he’s going to properly repay him.

(And if Grian leaves him a small arrangement of flowers on top of the shulker box of sniffer eggs? Well. Scar knows exactly who they’re from.)

[moonstruckme]

could i req any marauder finding r’s sh scars and being loving about them? going through hell rn. it’s okay if u cant, love u mae

Wishing you all the best sweetheart, hope you're doing what you can to support yourself and let others around you support you too <33

cw: past self harm

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Did his wife cheat on him?”

“Why would you think that?” 

“I mean, if not, why does the mother-in-law hate her so much?” 

Remus shrugs, a secret smile playing on the edge of his mouth. His knuckles run over the skin of your shoulder idly as he keeps his eyes on the laptop screen. “Suppose you’ll have to wait and see.” 

You huff a laugh. “What’s the point of watching with someone who’s already seen it if you won’t tell me anything?” 

“It’s only ever really fun for the person who’s already seen it. I get to watch you go through the agonies I did.” 

“The agonies.” You roll your eyes, leaning deeper into his side. You could be a bit more convincing about holding this against him, but Remus’ bed is almost as comfortable as Remus himself, and you’ve found it impossible to pretend at being any less smitten with him than you really are. He sees right through you every time. “If you’d mentioned the agonies in your pitch, I might not have agreed to this.” 

“You’ll like it,” he promises, leaning back on you in turn, your shoulder pushing into his arm. 

The two of you are having the laziest of afternoons. What had started as a coffee date had turned into a trip to the bookstore across the street and then a walk in a park, and when it had gotten too warm out for the both of you Remus had invited you over for lunch and somehow you’ve ended up here, sitting on his bed in a borrowed pair of sweatpants while you watch a film on his laptop and he touches you like you’re a fascination he’d like to spend years studying. 

It’s an indolent, distracted sort of touching. Almost like he’s mapping you out in his subconscious, so that someday he’ll know you by instinct and memory but he’s in no hurry to get there. Like he’s got time. It’s also hypnotic. As captivating as Remus’ film selection is, you’re having a difficult time keeping up with the plot when your eyelids are so, so heavy. 

His knuckles stroke over your neck, the bare skin of your collarbone, down the slope of your shoulder. You don’t realize your shirt has slipped off the top of your arm until he does.

You freeze, Remus doesn’t. His fingers continue to graze lightly over the neat rows of scars, slowing as though losing momentum. You close your eyes. 

Emotion rises like a gag reflex in your throat. Apprehension and shame and a guilt you don’t quite understand. Like you’re wrong for ever having had the audacity to hurt, like this is something you’re doing to him, somehow, even though it’s long over and was only ever a misguided attempt at making yourself feel better. It’s nonsensical, and you feel it anyway. 

Remus is quiet for a long while. 

His touch moves back up your shoulder, to unmarred skin and safer territory. He asks, “You okay?” 

You swallow. “You mean, like, presently?”

“Yeah.” There’s the faintest hint of teasing in Remus’ voice. He sweeps his thumb over the back of your neck, an attempt at soothing you. “Or in general, whatever suits you.” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped just now. I didn’t know.”

“No…no, you’re alright. I wasn’t…” You rub your lips together, taking in what you hope is a subtle breath through your nose. “You’re fine.” 

“Does it bother you to think about them?” he asks. You can feel him looking at you, now, but you keep your eyes on the screen. It’s the only way for you to have this conversation. 

“Not really. It was just something I did for a while, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, that makes sense.” 

You sit there for another quiet minute, you watching the movie and Remus watching you. The coil of apprehension in you starts to loosen. Your breaths come easier. 

“Sorry,” you say, not bothering to force lightness into your tone, “I didn’t mean to spring that on you. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something that tends to come up, like, casually.” 

“No, hey, you’re fine.” Remus sounds serious enough that you turn to look at him, and you find him with a hard notch between his brows, a surprised sort of frown on his lips. “If anyone sprung anything, it was me. You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t imagine it’s an easy subject to broach.” 

“It’s not a big deal to me anymore.” You’re beginning to sound almost as if you’re pleading with him. 

“Alright.” 

“And it was a long time ago now.” 

“It’s okay, love.” 

“I just know people sometimes get freaked out, and I don’t want you to worry—” 

“Hey.” There’s a tenderness to Remus’ voice as he cuts you off. His honey-toned eyes are soft. “It’s okay. Can I hug you?” 

You nod mutely. The hand currently resting by your neck slips down to hug your ribs, and his other arm comes around your front, palming your bare upper arm. He rubs up and down comfortingly, seemingly mindless of the faint lines under his touch. 

Remus’ lips touch to your hair. When he pulls you tighter against him, it feels almost like you’re rocking. “You’re alright,” he murmurs, to you, to himself. “You’re alright.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper, self-conscious now of your nervous blithering and slightly stunned by the way he’s touching you. 

“For what, sweetheart? Don’t be sorry. If you want to talk about it—about anything—I will always want to hear it, but you don’t owe me any explanation, alright?” 

“Yeah.” Your lungs deflate a little, a relief you hadn’t known you needed. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, either.” Remus is teasing again, the press of his lips to your hair at once firm and fond. He lets you go but keeps his arm around your waist, dropping his head to rest on yours again. “You’re just fine, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You snuggle into his side, somehow safer than before. “I’m good. I’ve been good.” 

His thumb sweeps over your side. “And you can tell me if you’re ever not. You’re perfect regardless.”  

[thesharktanksdriver]

Through the bars of a cell do you see the stars are shackled too? (Platonic)

Welp yall, here it is! The 13k magnum opus I somehow wrote

Not sure if it’s any good but that’s for you guys to decide

Masterlist for this series 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond

If there was one thing Kaido knew about life was that it sucked. 

Day after day was a consistent drag of disappointment and bellowing sorrow.

there were only a few things that made it slightly bearable as he went from suicide attempt to suicide attempt as to finally end his own agony.

Booze

The company of a woman (alway Black Maria)

The thought of someone finally being worthy to kill him.

And the recollection of memories.

These four things made the time in which Kaido wasn’t actively taking a sword to his chest or gunshot to the head somewhat….ok. 

The first two of these were simple enough desires.

His entire crew indulged themselves just the same as him, though in relative moderation compared to Kaido’s ravenous appetite for both. They served as decent distractions, the buzz of booze and a pretty woman at just about anyone’s side was enough to at least raise someone’s mood. Kaido was no exception to this until that buzz went away and a woman’s touch faded to a lukewarm warmth that could never graze his heart.

The second was also yet another simple desire, a goal more to say. The thought of which made his blood boil in anticipation of someone finally being worthy of giving a finishing blow. His heart stopping and breath finally leaving his throat. Oden had been the closest to this, the scar proudly displaced on Kaido’s chest seen more as a badge of honor rather than a brush with death that many would look at in shame. 

If Kaido had been less of a man, perhaps he’d gaze at it the same way rather than something he often gleams at in a mixture of pride and melancholy.

But then there was that last distraction, perhaps the most effective of them all. 

Memory.

Kaido has lived a long life, one filled with various adventures that now make everything feel dull in comparison. 

He sometimes thinks of the Rocks pirates, the crew he was on all those years ago where he’d meet Linlin and Newgate.

Most times he thinks of Oden and their battle. The man he’d be willing to call an equal as they fought to the death before that dirt old hag pulled that underhanded trick. The bullet he put through the old Rulers head as he boiled.

Other times it's of the Boy formerly known as Alber in a lab. Fanning the flames that burned away at cracking test tubes and blindingly white lab coats. 

But of all memories he thinks of there was always one memory he found himself looking back to.

No matter how much he tried to drink and wash down the sorrow.

Nor the blood staining his hands that unlike the rest he tries to wash off.

He drinks and unfortunately remembers.

===

For as long as Kaido could remember he’s always been locked behind the bars of a cell and had the key thrown away.

Being born in vodka kingdom meant he was already drafted at birth for the sole purpose of being a cog in the machine of war.

The battle cries and burning villages served as his lullabies. 

Blood staining his hands at the ripe age of 5 like paint.

Club heavy in his hands as if it were a toy.

When you're born with shackles you don’t know the concept of freedom until you see it first hand. 

And Kaido saw it when the nobles of his kingdom sat down one night for a feast. They ate and ate as if it were the last thing they’d do, laughing at jokes and throwing the bones of chicken at the nearby stationed guards who stood and did nothing. Kaido was a part of that group, he stood as a 12 year old boy with a weapon in hand whilst having food he’d never been able to eat thrown at him.

He clutched his small hands readily made for crushing bones and splattering the innards of now dead fools.

But he was ordered to stand there and he did.

He stood there being mocked and having his horns tugged at.

A “tamed Oni”, one had cackled at him whilst grabbing his horns, pulling at them uncomfortably.

People used that term around him a lot. It had explained his horns that others did not have, nor the height and strength he had compared to other soldiers. They always treated him differently compared to the others, fear lingering in their eyes despite him accomplishing a raid.

Now he knows they were waiting for him to snap the leash curled in their hands.

To break the collar of “tame” they had bestowed him.

It would take a few years but ultimately they were right to be afraid.

Because no matter how much you domesticate a wild animal they with inevitably fall to instinct.

But unlike a wild animal who bite the hand that fed them they decided he’d be transferred to new masters.

It was more profitable that way. 

So instead Kaido became a bargaining chip.

His bunk with other soldiers was replaced with a damp dark dungeon though it wasn’t much different.

The invisible shackles became real and rubbed uncomfortably against his wrists.

And the slop he was already forced to eat somehow became worse.

In a cell Kaido sat.

And it was there he met a child a few years younger than him with eyes that caught his attention.

He could’ve sworn he saw the stars shine within their deep darkened irises.

It was there he met you.

===

“So what did you do to get thrown in here?” It’s a simple question but one that makes Kaido reared his head up from letting it hang down. A scowl paints his lips, keeping them in a downward slope as golden eyes look up from across the cell to you.

You sit there, head held up by your palm while you sit in a criss cross position. Bruises and dried blood paint skin, a sight he’s intimately familiar with yet like him you seemingly brush off the pain.

“They don’t like when their dogs rebel…so their selling me off”

It’s simple and to the point, he doesn’t want to talk further and his response should indicate that.

Yet you either don’t notice or ignore his tone.

“Ah…so you were a soldier right? How many years?”

“13”

“Wow” you tilt your head a bit at that, a mixture of amazement and disbelief along with sadness “13 years…when were you drafted?”.

Kaidō scowls, “at birth”

He watches confusion settle on your face. He quirks an eye at it.

“You're 13??” You sound exasperated at that, eyes widening a bit even as you say it.

“How old did you think I was?” He can’t help but ask.

“I thought you were in your 20’s maybe even 30’s”

Kaido in that moment suddenly felt that old as you said that. Did he really look that different compared to others? Guess it was that oni blood-

“Wow, you're even cooler than I thought! You can probably fool people into buying alcohol!” Saying this with a smile he can’t help but search it for sarcasm yet he finds none. Were you…really being genuine? Did you think he was “cool”?

Kaido didn’t really think anyone would describe him as that.

A monster, yes.

Demon.

Oni.

Devil child.

Beast.

But cool? That certainly wasn’t apart of the vocabulary spat at him by his superiors and civilians of burning villages.

“So wait, since you’ve been a soldier your entire life do you know anything outside of it?” It’s a stupid question, but one he guesses is still kinda nice to ask if only for conversation sake.

“What do you think?” 

You go silent and he thinks for a moment you stay that way, but after a minute you ask.

“Well, do you wanna know about the world then?”

With curiosity and maybe even a bit of hesitant crumbs of joy he nods.

You smile despite being in a dungeon chained to the wall adjacent to him.

===

Kaido had never once thought that the world could be so interesting until you brought color to it with all the knowledge you hold.

You talk of the islands where flowers grow and bloom, meant to be admired instead of crushed beneath military boots and razed into ash.

You explain the expanse of the night sky and the stories of constellations learned through years of travel. Stars he was taught to know the way back to the kingdom or to use as to navigate yet never appreciate their gentle light.

You tell of the burning sand between your toes and the expanse of crystal blue water that extends to the horizon, the sun setting over it in warm hues of orange, yellow and pink. He has walked across sandy shores but never truly felt sand beneath his feet, never truly stopped to enjoy the lapping of warm waves when the cold plunge and orders to swim are given.

You speak of freedom when all Kaido has ever known is of the chains and collar placed on him since birth.

And you breathe color into the monochrome world he once knew.

Kaido can’t help but imagine the world you describe to him, the sights and beauty of the sea.

Is it as truly free as you describe it?

Can someone like him who’s known the shackles of subjugation truly find peace there?  

Can he be free of the weight of chains just as you described?

Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part (something very foreign to him) but he think he believed you.

Believed your words 

Believed your stories 

He’s left to ponder over them as you're dragged away by guards despite his protest.

He knows them well, worked with them once before and maybe had even shared drinks yet they look at him with disgust. With an apathy familiar and not foreign to him yet curls in his gut with disgusted anger. 

He tries to break free of the chains but cannot.

For hours alone in a cell he stares out the little barred window looking to the stars you taught him of.

And hours later you're dragged back more bruised and beaten than before but still keeping that damn smile. 

Still retaining the light and gentle air to you that makes you laugh off the broken arm that hangs limply.

“I never asked how you ended up here” Kaido finds himself saying as you rest against the cold stones of the wall, blood marring them a deep maroon as bugs crawl and cold water slithers down. You smile as you do for just about everything, it reminds him of the softness of fur that they had the grace to give in the coldest of winter “they keep asking how I ended up here, assume I’m a spy or something. They won’t take my word that I just ended up here by accident”.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, is guess you’d call it bad luck but I met you so it’s at least better than before” 

“How is me being here with you any better?”

“Having a friend in a cell to return to is better than nothing at all”

“You consider me a friend?” The word feels foreign on his tongue. He had colleagues, and his kingdom had allies made through treaties but never once has he heard that word applied to these relationships. There was always a hollow coldness to them, necessity over genuine companionship despite the same experiences of being born weapons.

“Of course I do” you say this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and it hurts his head. “I guess i never asked, but would you like to be friends?”     

Kaido doesn’t understand you, but maybe that’s why he likes you better than all the other recruits he was raised with.

 You actually think.

 You feel.

And you can create actual conversation about something other than the boring slaughter of more innocents. 

He could never call the razing of a village a war, not when they do not truly fight and just wait to be slaughtered to let the women and children flee. 

It does not satiate the craving for a true battle, a true foe, a true adversary for him to fight.

You do not scratch the itch of that fight but you do create a new one as he thinks of freedom beyond these bars.

Beyond the fate of being a pawn and soldier to master.

The itch gets stronger the more you talk, as does his urge to sit down and listen genuinely instead of mutely compute the drowning of orders.

Unlike commanders too caught up in their own pride you let him talk.

Let him ask questions.

Let him find different conclusions to morality even if yours and his budded heads.

But most of all you respected Kaido.

Respected him as a person rather than when you respect a monster because of fear.

And kaido finds himself returning the sentiment even if you're physically weak. But that’s ok, Kaido can make up for your lack of physical strength. 

Your mind is what’s more important anyways.

Your kindness he wishes to savor exclusively for himself even if in every other person he’d see it as weakness is written off. 

“Yes” he answers slowly, “I’d like that”.

===

Each day you're dragged out at some point and beaten within an inch of your life. Returning with more bruises budding into ugly purple spots as blood stains your white linen shirt a color he’s too familiar with. 

Cuts are crusted up as is old blood that keeps having more crust over.

More broken bones though now they aim for smaller ones, as to drag out having more to eventually break.

Each time you're brought back more broken than the last you keep greeting Kaido with a smile and it drives him mad. 

It also makes him realize just how strong you actually are though.

How resilient you are even in the worst of times.

They keep beating you for answers even when you repeat the same thing every time.

But you do not cry.

Don’t scream nor beg.

And that just seems to piss them off more and proves your resolve even further as to when they move to other methods like waterboarding and taking precise slashes.

You're determined not to give them what they want.

And that in turn makes them Determined to see you break.

To shatter into tiny shards that they’ll stomp into dust.

But even with that it’s nothing compared to you.

The burning look in your eyes rivals that of a thousand stars, and it burns Kaido to the core with how they shine.

How they do not flicker in the face of adversity.

Do not run out of fuel for the fire and just keeps burning to new intensity each time you come back.

Each time you stare at Kaido’s chains and the lock of the cell door.

In many ways you're weak but in others you are strong.

You're a contradiction in every sense of the word that Kaido wishes he could understand.

Because how can someone who has experienced such pain and cruelty of the world still smile as you do?

How can you still laugh with half a ribcage shattered and digging into your lungs.

How is it that despite it all you're laid back and calm even when a blade threatens to expose your innards to the world.

How can you be so soft and yet harder to crack than diamond coated on steel?

It doesn’t make sense (and it never will to him) but he wants to understand you.

Want’s to take the time to solve it like a puzzle instead of the regular way of solving problems via bashing it over the head enough times.

(He never gets the time to do this in the end though)

They don’t put your shackles on this time, it’s not worth the effort in their opinion when they’ve broken so many of your bones.

So they throw you on the hard floor, and lock up the cell once again.

You crawl your way to Kaido’s side of the cell, curling up next to him in a way that feels natural. He hikes an arm around you protectively as one would their own child, and while he doesn’t know what to consider you by (he now knows he considers you as one would a younger sibling) he knows he cares.

And while that’s a scary thought to him he can’t help but revel in it.

The fact that for the first time in his life besides pulling a trigger and watching the flames burn he cares. 

Cares for something of his own volition rather being ordered to. 

Despite being similar in age to him, you're so small in his arms. It’s mostly due to his Oni blood but a swelling of protectiveness wells up in him. He’s felt it before as they drag you off, yells at them to stop and leave you alone. But now settled in his arms so physically broken and battered it really dawns on him.

You're a child and so is he.

You only help to cement this in a small moment of vulnerability in his arms.

“I miss my home…even if I can’t remember it anymore.” He sees tears glistening in moonlight that peaks through the bars. You don’t cry from the beatings and torture like a skilled soldier, but you cry for home just as a child would.

 “I want to remember but I can’t and it hurts so much. It hurts so much Kaido, and I can’t do anything about it. I’d rather rip out my heart and burn my nerves to nothing or crush each individual bone to dust if it meant it could remember what home was like. I miss it so bad and I don’t even know what I miss” 

Kaido doesn’t know what to say, what to input and make you feel better because weapons are not meant to comfort others.

Monsters aren’t meant to hold the hand of the child, they're meant to scare.

But he tries.

“What do you remember?”

You bite back tears, swallowing them down to smile once more though now he sees how it wavers. It cracks ever so slightly at the corners, no one notices because it’s so bright that they never look there to see how practiced it is.

“It’s really hazy…” you start, playing with broken fingers before he stops you by placing his battle torn ones atop your own “but I remember a garden”

“What did it grow?”

“Flowers mostly…maybe peonies? Oh! And lilies. But I also remember strawberries, well more like remember the taste of them”

“What did they taste like?” He’s heard of those berries before but has not tasted them.

“Sweet…tart and earthy. I think I planted them because I was alone for periods of time?”

“Why’s that?”

“I think my parents” for a second you pause in consideration and contemplation, he watches the tears run in your head. But then eyes light up with a hazed recognition “they had to travel for work sometimes. They’d stay for long periods at home and then leave. They didn’t want me to go with them…thought it was dangerous maybe?”. 

He nods at that.

That sounded like a fair enough reason, especially for someone like you.

Gentle and kind.

Showing Weakness even if it also seemed to be your strong suit.

The world has and would eat you up.

“Mom smelled of spices all the time. I think she came from a desert island, and liked to visit it. She would bring me back things”

“Do you remember what those were?”

“No…I just remember my sash came from that place. Made of special silk or something” you look down, but your sash is not there. Probably taken and sold already when you were initially dragged into the dungeon. 

“Your dad?”

“He…I think he liked helping people.” 

“So he’s like you then”

Your smile seems to become more genuine at that.

“Kaido my memory is really bad, I forget a lot. if…I can’t remember all of this then can you do it for me?” You look at him, those stars he swears he can see hidden in them shine once more. How can he refuse such a thing? Not when you’d made him feel like he isn’t just a gun to be held or a weapon to hold. “It’s like you said, we’re friends” he feels weird saying this but maybe in a good way “I don’t mind”.

===

The marines will be there for him soon, he knew it was a matter of time but despite that he can’t help but feel as if it has all flown away in a mere month.

What should have been a time in which he lamented alone,Cold and starved. It was filled with knowledge, warmth and fulfillment none of which he’d ever had the privilege in knowing. To his commanders he didn’t deserve it but you seem to think otherwise. 

You always seemed to think otherwise to what he was taught.

When they dragged you back one night he noticed your smile was wider than it usually would. There was something about it that was innately different. 

Once more they don’t lock you in shackles, just throwing you limply to the ground.

Your eyes watch as they slam the door and leave.

Something in them sparks up like a match in the dark. 

A chuckle escapes your lips and he watches you sit up despite the broken bones. Worry etches itself into him.

“Stop moving your hurt!”

“I’m fine, had worse” it’s said as if it’s something as casual as the weather. “Anyways Kaido, where do you wanna go first when we get out of here?” You have that gaze again, it feels like a trick question.

“When?”

The look in your eye gets stronger as cracked fingers caked in your own blood reach into your pocket and pull out a key.

It gleams in the moonlight like your tears once did.

You repeat the question again.

“Where do you wanna go first when we get out of here?”

Kaido thinks back to your tales and finds his thoughts of where he’d be most free and answers back.

“The sea”

===

The escape is not pretty, blood was shed and Kaido is covered head to toe in red. You don’t fare much better but that’s mostly due to the fact you were in the splatter zone of Kaido’s rampage, which while you didn’t agree with was likely the only way for either of you to get out alive after being spotted.

The salty breeze rustles his hair and drifts past his horns, the ivory is stained red until he’s able to wash it.

On the small boat the two of you stole he lays down beside you on the wooden flooring. It creaks lightly because of his weight, but does not crack. The two of you look up to the stars, he wonders if they are as free as he feels whilst he stares up at them covered in the blood of his captors and by (one of) the only person he’d call a Friend’s side. 

For the first of many few times in his life Kaido feels happy to be alive, if only for this moment of respite.

And it’s the first time he feels like he could take the world.

If only for you to grasp and hold for the freedom you gave him.

Because just for that, for breaking his shackles he’d give you everything and more.

(It’s a sentiment Alber would come to understand as well, many years in the future.) 

Kaido looks to the stars, he thinks they shine brighter than when he was behind that of prison bars.

“I…I think they shine brighter here than before” he mumbles, he hears you move slightly closer despite all your broken bones and bruises.

“That might be because you’d never truly had the chance to stop and stare”

“Maybe” Kaido feels himself grunting “but everything kinda feels different now that I’m free”

“How so?”

He pauses for a moment, thinking how to phrase it before saying “it feels like things have color, it isn’t monochrome anymore. I can feel the wood beneath my fingers and sand sticking to my feet instead of ignoring the sensation because of orders. Salt stays on the tip of my tongue instead of gray slop that drowned away all taste…things can just exist without a purpose in war”.

Kaido had never been one for metaphors or flowery language, but for this he isn’t sure how else to explain it.

It all feels different.

He feels different, like a weight off both his shoulders and wrists.

Like new breath in his lungs.

An icy cold plunge into new waters.

It feels exhilarating and unpredictable.

He feels alive. 

For the first time he thinks he can say he truly feels alive, rather than just surviving. 

Not scraping by.

Not simply living without thought or question.

But alive.

Laying close to his head one of your hands goes to his hair, gently weaving it between fingers so much smaller than his own. 

“Now that we’re at sea, is there any other place you’d like to go next?” You ask looking up to the stars yourself, he wonders if they reflect the ones in your eyes or if yours are their own little night sky.

“I haven’t thought that far yet.” He answers honestly, he focuses on the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, he thinks that they reflect both himself and you. “But so long as we’re free then I’m content in where we go” he says this Earnestly, turning his attention from that of the celestial bodies to you.

There's a look on your face he can’t place.

But he thinks it’s some sort of sadness.

It looms over you like a specter and soaks you to the bone in melancholy.

But you nod, and let the silence punctuated by waves take over.

He doesn’t get that look now, but he later realizes it’s the look of “I’m sorry”.

===

He realized too late your wounds should not look that way.

He knew they shouldn’t have in the beginning but it only sets in now after examining them himself. 

Kaido knew he was no Field medic. His hands were only used to destroy and Maim and kill. But Kaido tried. 

Because that’s all Kaido could do.

Try.

Try for you.

Try for you to be more than just an agent of destruction.

Of trying to do his best in treating the wounds despite the fact he does not know how to be gentle.

How to properly show care.

But nevertheless Kaido tries, he wraps your wounds and cleans them with water even if he has to hold your hand due to the sting of salt. 

His hope is that you’ll float by a marine ship, in which he’d raid it and find their doctors to fix your infections.

But for now besides that he had to stabilize you, which seemed to be a fighting effort considering you don’t seem to care all that much.

At least for yourself.

When it had come to Kaido you placed him over yourself much to his dismay. Even back in that damp and dirty cell you’d done that. Giving him half your scraps of food, pouring a good portion of dirty water into his cup. 

“You need it more than me” is what you had told him along with something like “you're bigger than me which means you need more food to power you” and “I’ve survived with less, I’ll be fine”.

He’d at the time hesitantly accepted it, but now as he dives into the ocean and catches fish to cook he doesn’t take those excuses anymore. Even if he has to basically force a large portion of Cooked fish in your hands and sit down in front of you glaring, telling you to eat.

But that is the least of his issues when it comes to you.

Kaido knows that for a 13 year old he’s mature, as are you despite being younger than him.

But he feels like a damn nurse trying to make you take medicine when it comes to the simplest things.

No, make sure you stay hydrated.

You can’t skip out on getting rest just cause someone needs to be on lookout. It's fine.

Stop poking at the very infected wound that’ll irritate it!

Stop moving around when half your bones are broken!!

At 13 Kaido thinks he has gray hairs already setting in. Because this makes him feel as old as what you first assumed him to be when the two of you met.

You're stubborn as a mule on this, practically forcing him to keep you bed ridden with the minimal supplies this small fishing vessel had. The couch you lay on is itchy as are the sheets used as blankets but it’s something and that’s all Kaido has other than you.

But even with your condition of what should be constant physical agony you keep insisting on getting up.

On trying to help around the small sea vessel.

Saying you had to look out for your own boat even if he doesn’t think that’s very likely but promised he’d look out for it in your stead.

Help trying to navigate even if he knew how to.

For some reason you can’t seem to sit still, mind always needing to focus on something even if the waves were calm and weather was fine. When he’d check in on you as you rested he’d alway find you staring out the small port window, eyes glazed over. 

The haze of memory clouding them.

You tended to do that a lot in that cell but telling stories seemed to make it go away for a while.

But now you do it more often and he isn’t sure if it’s just how you are or if the infection is getting to you.

Either or, it leaves him sleepless at night More than he’d like to admit.

“Oh kaido? I never asked but why do you have horns?” You suddenly ask as he places down the slightly burnt piece of fish. Cooking was a skill taught to him…but cooking good food wasn’t. “You ask that now?” He responds then making you shrug your shoulders.

“didn’t think it was too important to ask at the time”

At that he rolls his eyes, picking up a piece of fish for you to eat. “I’ll answer if you eat”

“Ok” that was a bit easier than he thought- “but only if I get to keep asking questions”

“Fine” it comes out as an exasperated groan but to be honest a small bit of pride swells up in him.

You take a bite of the fish he cooked, eating it without complaint even though the outside is charred to ash. You look at him expectantly.

“I’m an Oni”

He waits for a reaction, but all he gets is a “oh, cool”.

“Is…that really your reaction to learning that?”

“Am I supposed to have a different reaction?”

“Yeah” he grumbles “I’m an Oni. O, N, I.” 

He looks at your face, you have the most clueless expression he thinks he’s ever seen.

“You…you don’t know what that means do you?”

“Not really? But I was just wondering if they were fake or not. Either or it doesn’t change my opinion on you” 

“And what’s your opinion of me?”

“I think your cool…and your my friend who deserved better than what life gave you”

He pauses momentarily at that, but nods.

He thinks the same of you, that you deserve better than this.

“…thanks. What’s your next question?”

You take another bite, “oh! Here’s a good question!” You suddenly turn a bit serious “what’s your dream?”

“My dream?”

“Yeah! What’s your dream now that you're free? What do you wanna do? What do you want to accomplish?” 

“I want to change the world” he says after a moment of contemplation.

“Cool!”

But that wasn’t the entire truth.

He left out a part at the end.

I want to change the world for you.

===

You’ve been acting more off than usual, and that’s saying something since you always act weird. Always having an odd look in those eyes of yours that encompass the night sky itself even in all its expanse. 

But now those eyes seem…obscured in a sense.

You're half-there and half-not.

Because of the infections you’ve developed a fever and you're losing sight of things.

Sweat pours from your forehead and breath remaining stagard as you took in deep puffs of breath.

Chills have begun to rack up your spine leaving you a shivering mess. He lets you cling to him, leaching off the warmth he naturally produces as his blood stained hands try to rub comforting circles into tousled and sweaty hair.

He doesn’t mind.

He can’t when your in obvious pain and confusion.

Mind slipping back and forth between conscious and unconscious, past and the present. 

Today he tried to have you tell a story but you kept fumbling over your own words.Trailing off and suddenly going quiet for minutes on end and then asking him what you were talking about.

You apologize for this. As well as being an inconvenience.

For being sick.

For slowly losing yourself in the veil of loopiness as your body gets worse.

But that’s hardly something that’s your fault.

It’s his.

(Or at least that’s what he blames himself for)

After failing to tell a story you go quiet for a while. 

Eerily so.

It sets him off tilter since he’s used to your voice constantly being in the air.

You don’t seem to know what to say anymore.

So instead Kaido decides to fill the air instead.

“Apparently in Oni culture we let someone close to us make a mark on our horns” it comes out of nowhere and it takes a minute for you to compute but when it does he sees fascination light up your face. 

“How do you know that?” Your voice questions, the sound of it easing some of his tension. You're still there, still conscious and not lost in your own mind. “I thought you didn’t know much about your people, considering you were one of the only ones likely left?”.

“A commander mentioned it once” 

He thinks back to that particular memory.

Said commander looking at the small horns poking out from disheveled hair. They weren’t quite as big as they were now, just barely enough to be called proper horns. 

He remembers that man’s laugh as he roughly grabbed them and tugged Kaido along with them.

“He said that when they were big enough they should carve the kingdom's emblem into them. A sign of ownership and of its importance”

“To you?”

“No, more like how it was above me” 

Now thinking back he isn’t sure if that man’s words were true or not. He’d been so deprived of information about a people he’d never met nor traditions he’d never see that any crumb would be eaten up by his mind.

Maybe it was made up.

But even if it wasn’t it remained stuck in his head.

“I want you to carve something” 

For a money you pause, a look of confusion stuck.

“Why though? I don’t want to make it seem like mark of ownership, that’s wrong”

Lightly he smacks your forehead with his finger, he ignores how it’s too hot and the sweat that sticks to it.

“You idiot, did you not hear what I said first? It’s meant to be a thing of friendship between us. They wanted to use it as something else, I want to use it as it’s meant to be used” 

“But what would I even carve? I don’t wanna put my name. That would seem weird”

Kaido pinches the bridge of his nose, then looking at you once more.

At least he knew you’d be genuine about it.

But even then your being too picky about shit-

“Do a star then”

He gets the idea when for a brief moment his eyes connect with your own.

They sparkle even with the hazy look in them.

“Will it hurt you though?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve been through worse”

“Well it matters to me-“

“Yeah well, you’ve used the same excuse before of things being worse. I don’t know what you’ve been through but I’ve been a soldier up till now, I can handle it”

By the end of the night as you lay asleep atop of him, head planted above where his heart would be (if he really ever had one) his fingers trace the indent of a messy carved star.

It’s slightly lopsided.

It doesn’t look even.

Or maybe even doesn’t look like a four pointed star to others.

But to Kaido it means everything to him.

(Something that even now years in the future despite being depressed and suicidal he fondly drags a finger over the carved notch. It’s one of the few things that can make him slightly smile about. A sight of which makes his commanders ponder of, though only King knows of its true significance to him)

It serves as an anchor or sorts.

A sign.

A motivation.

A determination for a dream.

A connection.

A symbol of freedom and a spark.

A sign of friendship to someone he feels is rapidly slipping from his grasp at each moment. Much like sand between his fingers or blood pouring from an open wound.

He cannot sew it up now matter how hard he tries,

He has to watch you bleed out slowly in pain.

And it kills him slowly on the inside.

Especially as you seem to be losing yourself bit by bit.

Kaido holds you closer, he hopes to not have to let you go.

But he knows at this point it is inevitable.

The fever isn’t going down and just seems to get worse.

The end is nigh.

===

A few years ago Kaido had saw a half dead rabbit in the camp near his bunkhouse with the others his age.

It’s white spotted fur matted with dirt and its own blood as it lay mutilated but alive. The small animal writhed on the ground, ants picking away at its flesh as it sat there still alive to be eaten. It’s a cruel fate for any living thing, but one that is not unexpected for a creature that was weak.

Or at least that’s what they told him.

His superior saw his gaze at the creature and scoffed when Kaido reached a hand to end its agony. 

He was told to let it writhe.

It was the rule of the world that the weak would die for the strong to survive.

The weak were meant to be eaten by the strong. 

And so the bunny was left to be taken apart slowly.

Dying in wheezing pain.

Left there to die in agony instead having its suffering ended with the quick snap of its neck.

Kaido didn’t know how to feel as it sat there in pain, he felt sort of sorry for it but he was given orders. 

And that was the way of the world.

He thinks back to that rabbit now and finds the similarity between you both too apparent.

Both small helpless creatures in pain.

You wheeze just as it did though now due to your feverish state.

You shiver as its body once did though instead of the chilling snow it’s now your body playing tricks on you.

And just like that small rabbit your fate is in his hands.

He has to decide whether to let you continue to a painful death just as it did or end it now. 

This decision weighs heavy on him now because he isn’t given orders to obey.

He has to make this choice of his own volition.

And for once he thinks there was one upside to being given orders to be a weapon.

Because morality and feelings never came into the mix.

He’d be given a task, do it and never have to think of how it made him feel nor the consequences of those actions on others.

It was survival.

Yet now decision weighs heavy in his mind, on his shoulders and most importantly in his hands as you are cradled by them.

He can’t help but notice once more that you're so small in them. He knows it’s mostly due to his oni blood but a part of him attributes it to how fragile you are. It would be so easy to hurt you by accident. So, so, so easy for the world to shatter you like glass. 

He’s surprised it hasn’t already or perhaps it did and you're a pro at picking yourself up back together.

Your form is held gently but close.

Kaido doesn’t want to let you go from his grasp.

Wants to hoard you to himself.

He doesn’t want you to go.

To leave him alone with this burning feeling in his heart at the thought of you going.

But Kaido knows that in the end he cares too much for you to let that part of himself overpower the right thing to do. 

No matter how much it’ll tear him apart and shatter him at his core.

You're worth so much more than both those combined. 

And he’s willing to become more broken than he already was just for you to die in peace.

His hands shake, you notice.

“ you ok…Kai?” The shortened form of his name was something you’d begun calling him a few days back. Speaking hurt your throat, so instead under his demand you’d stuck to short sentences. But at this point he’s unsure if you think he’s him or if you think your speaking to someone else.

“I’m fine…just” what does he say? What's he supposed to do? He’s 13 and he’s killed more than he could ever count yet this feels different. He’d never known his victim so well, never cared for them as he did with you. “I just need to know something” before he does this, even in your feverish state he needs to find some solace.

Tilting your head back to look up at him he sees your eyes struggling to focus. Squinting at his face almost as if drunk with uncertainty at who he was. 

“What is it?” Your words are slurred and slow, raspy and thin. The complete opposite as to what you sounded like before in that cell even with a broken set of ribs. You used to speak with such certainty and strength, joy and wonder leaking from each word. 

Your voice is but an echo of what it once was. Quiet and loosing its grasp before fading to silence.

“…even if we go our separate ways…will you still consider me your friend? Will you still care for me?”

You smile.

And Kaido feels the world shift ever so slightly.

“Course Kai.” Reaching up a hand you graze the ivory of his horns, a finger tracing the small star mark he let you carve “your my friend. I’ll always love you, always care for you even when gone. One day we’ll see each other again”.

Maybe you're more coherent than he initially thought.

Maybe you realized his intentions of putting you out of this misery.

Or maybe you genuinely think that you’ll meet once more.

In a way your right, you��ll one day meet in the realm of the dead.

(Something he now oh so desperately craves to go to)

Either way it’s all the motivation he needs to do this.

His hands shake as they shift grip to cradle the back of your head.

(A monster like him does not deserve your care, to ever feel loved as he did as your friend. But even then that’s an understatement, you were more like the family he never had. The annoying little sibling he never asked for but loved as if you were flesh and blood)

You stare up at him from your place, head leaning against where his beating dead heart is.

(Star filled eyes look up at him and they make it so that he can never look at the night sky again. Even in onigashima on the clear night skies with shining stars he cannot look at them. Only because he’s flooded with the guilt)

“Kaido?” You sound a bit more coherent than before, you look at him with a confused smile as your hands graze over the tears coming from golden eyes.

(He imagines the rabbit, if on that day he’d ended its misery. The flooding relief of death sweeping over its form that was left to rot and be picked apart by the scavengers. He promises you will not be left to that fate, that the world will not tear you apart as you die a slow painful end)

“What are you-“.

There’s a twist and then a crack.

The sound is quiet yet it rattles through his hands and into his core where sorrow roars its head for the very first time.

Slumping down to the ground he holds you, and doesn’t want to let you go.

He closes his golden eyes and falls asleep clutching a dead corpse (that unbeknownst to him began to fade away as he slipped into unconscious. He wakes up later on a marine’s ship and assumes they tossed your body, there are no survivors to tell the tale but himself).

Death is all that Kaido’s hands are good for, he isn’t ashamed of this fact but this time he feels genuine loss.

One of the few times he ever will. 

And just like the other time when he feels loss for a person he kills much later on in the future.

You and Oden smile in the face of death.

The sight haunts and transfixes him at the same time.

And it makes Kaido crave it all the more knowing the two people he misses smiled as death took them.

He wonders if the sight of the other side or complete and utter peace in the reaper's cold hands did it.

Either way he wishes to go out the same.

With content in his cold withered heart and a smile.

===

Kaido isn’t sure if he believed in ghosts and spirits, but he did believe that in some way you were still with him even in death.

Because you linger subconsciously in his mind and everything he comes across. 

When he joined the Rock’s pirates under Newgates offer he imagines what would have happened if you were still with him. Would you have wormed your way into the murderous crew’s hearts just as you did him?

He knows for a fact he would have had to fight Newgate for you. 

The man’s dream of a family aligning all too well with how he would have scooped you up the minute Kaido stepped on that ship.

Linlin talks about a childhood best friend that sounds a lot like you.

She reminisces about it quite a bit, no one but him actually listens (even then he only does this for his own nostalgia of you and how similar this friend of hers and you sound alike). That seems to help get him on her good side though with how young he was when joining that helped as well, she now calls him “little brother”. It’s an affectionate term, one that he isn’t quite sure how he feels about when she messes up his hair and slaps him on the back.

He thinks it’s then that he realized he viewed you the same way Linlin does for him.

Little sibling. 

It’s always after someone is gone do you realize the true extent of their importance to you.

It’s only when they're gone do you feel their loss in the world and your life.

He thought he had prepared for loss, for mourning and grief.

But they still hit him harder than any bullet or attack. 

It’s perhaps a true testament to you and your affect on him. 

Linlin at some point has him try a strawberry shortcake once he says he’d never had strawberry before. She enthusiastically hands him a piece, it surprises both him and everyone else on board. She never shared her sweets, let alone with anyone on board besides maybe Stussy and Gloriosa when they were on those weird weeks where they smelled of blood and were moodier than usual.

So he tries it.

The small red berry with bits of white frosting stuck to it, it hits his taste buds with an onslaught of sweetness.

It’s as you described strawberries to taste, sweet and earthy, its juice pools in his mouth and leaks from the corner of his lips.

But at the same time it’s bitter and dull.

He swallows it down though, and eats the rest as Linlin grins in delight. 

She asks him how it was and he responds that it was fine.

She does not know of how it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth even after trying to wash it down with sake and whatever booze was offered that night.

Only Newgate seem notices of how he tried to wash out his mouth.

Thankfully he does not ask.

And Kaido luckily does not have to tell of how the too sweet taste of icing and lingering bitterness of fresh strawberry stains him.

(When Linlin sends shipments of strawberry shortcakes years later Kaido bitterly eats them just as they leave a bitter taste in his mouth. King asks him why he eats them despite his clear distaste for the sweet confection. He just says it’s because it’s a gift and because he values the bittersweet of strawberry. King raises an eyebrow at this, but does not comment on it. Instead he join in on finishing the many sweet confections even if like Kaido he prefers more savory dishes) 

===

In a lab many years later after gods valley Kaido finds a white haired boy chained up to a table. 

Red burning eyes stare to that of gold ones.

Kaido knows his eyes are not like yours, they do not burn with the same intensity of Starfire but they do burn.

They burn like the flames that eventually eat up the rest of the facility as shackles are broken. 

He learns the boy's name is Alber, a last surviving member of the Lunarian race that had been slaughtered much like his own. Unlike horns he possesses wings and an undying spark. Both of which weakly cling to life after years of poking and prodding by people in white coats that are now marred by ash and blood. 

Kaido was sure of it after he had bludgeoned enough of them with his own bare hands or let the collapsing building take care of the few stranglers.

Alber in the escape is reborn anew in the ashes of a burning lab as King.   

A fitting name for someone who would eventually come to rule this forsaken world at Kaido’s side.

As King looks up to him, with widen ruby red eyes Kaido notices how they look at him. He looks at Kaido as if he had hung the moon and stars, perhaps in a way Kaido had for the young Lunarain.

King does not remember much of his home besides the scent of burning wood of a giant bonfire and the subsequent burning of their homes.

Fire had been important to their people, it symbolized that of the blazing fires of the stars. The eternal fire of their spark hung just behind them like the star that was hung above the red line. It was said to have been given to them as a symbol of home no matter where they flew.

The star was placed there to always show them their way back home.

That the ones touched by their elusive god would have their sparks changed to immortalize that star.

It is ironic then that fire is used to burn away their land to bring forth Mary Geoise. 

What had used to be the land of winged people as free as the sky is reborn as the place where so called “celestials” harbor hundreds of thousands as slaves.

The lucky few lunarians had their wings tethered in chains before being dropped into the ocean to flail and drown or just properly slaughtered in the massacre as they were shot down from the sky.

The rest who don’t share that fate are privy to something much worse. Either shipped off to a lab or dismembered into exotic pieces to be kept as a part of a collection as are the remnants of their culture.

Black wings are hung up as mantle pieces above fireplaces that burn in a crude irony.

Moon White hair was cut off and woven into decorations for dresses.

Red eyes plucked from skulls to be turned into exotic centerpieces to long tables filled to the brim with imported foods.

Kaido knows that Oni horns are similarly used as decorations. 

The ivory carved into statues or used as the keys to piano’s that are played by slaves or the few lucky musicians that are deemed good enough to be in the presence of self acclaimed gods.

Like King, Kaido also knows little to none about his own culture as well.

Both their people slaughtered for decoration, leaving them clueless to their own traditions.

Yet another thing that makes him and King feel somewhat connected. 

They are both the last of their kind.

Shackled and chained like property before being broken free.

Two connected with a dream to change the world. 

Both were freed and were able to see the moon and stars once again on a beautiful night punctuated by the blood of their captures.

While King does not remember his people he does remember the stars, stars he now gets to see again.

So it’s no wonder he thinks Kaido hung them.

He looks at Kaido just as Kaido did to you.

Once more Kaido ponders if you watch him from the world beyond.

If you're proud of him for doing just as you did all those years ago.

Kaido hopes so.

===

For a good while in his life Kaido feels aimless.

To be fair, in a sense he’s always been slightly aimless. Going from place to place, adrift before he was recruited to Rock’s crew and then had to jump ship when that went up in smoke. 

He has his right hand.

He builds his crew.

Is proclaimed a Yonko and emperor of the seas.

Has a blood child.

But the hollowness in his chest does not get placated nor fade.

It only ever seems to feel worse.

The world feels like once more that it’s back to monochrome, only stray bits of color only ever appearing when he’s drunk enough to forget.  Even then the world does not feel as vibrant as it was before even when in inebriated color. 

Everything feels faded out and sullied.

Almost as if it were drowned and pulled back out from the water.

Theoretically he should be happy, but he isn’t.

There were only a few times in his life that he ever was and it started with you before going downhill from then on.

In the back of his mind he wants to blame you for this unhappiness.

You who brought him a world of light and color before having it ripped away by his own hands as a mercy to you. From then on it never seemed the same, its color began to fade as did his eventual want to live. Back when the broken neck was cradled in his hands he wanted to go with you, but surmised that you wanted better for him.

You always did.

Always put himself above you even if you were equally starving and cold.

Kaido doesn’t regret being alive, not when you fought so valiantly for him to do so and for having the opportunity in freeing King. but he does regret living to the point that he now considered it a prison in its own right.

Regrets that he now cannot look at the stars and when he does he wonders if they too are chained to their positions in the sky. 

perhaps you had known that as well.

The forlorn look you’d give when looking out to sea even in a fevered and hazy state. Eyes tracing the stars with a sadness that he could not place.

Perhaps you’d Known all of this, yet tried to keep Kaido in blissful ignorance knowing how miserable it would make him.

Even with all of this Kaido cannot hate you, nor have any ill will towards you.

Not even if he forced himself to try.

Never could he hate you.

He could hate the world and himself but never you.

Never because of the kindness you’d given.

And most importantly for the fact that he now believes you to be something else.

Kaido isn’t quite sure where exactly he first hears of the story of “Joyboy” but even with the scraps he is given it stays in his mind. It lingers and festers with curiosity. An itch that he cannot scratch until he finds more stories, then rinse and repeat.

Kaido thinks that in a way you were sent by Joyboy to him.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Or something else entirely but you brought to him the liberation he had dreamt of.

Caused within him the spark of a burning star to create change to the world for you (one that now does not care if that change is for the betterment of the world or the destruction of it in your long forgotten name that he hordes)

But this first starts off as a stray thought as he learns more and more about the god. The small bits of information he’s been able to collect is varied and old but what the legend tells him is enough to create more similarities. Most of the stories have been covered up or collected by marines, luckily they can’t do much when he raids their bases and takes what information he wants.

More information is learnt.

And eventually he comes to believe that maybe you truly were some envoy sent by the perpetual smiling god.

You died with a smile like he would.

(As does Oden and Roger)

More of his mind makes connections probably not there but ones he so desperately wants to be true.

Because if you were sent by him that means it validates how you're a shining beacon of sunspot in the dark expanse of his mind.

Like a star in the sky.

Like the stars that match the innermost depths of your eyes.

Maybe if you were sent by JoyBoy it’s a sign of breaking free of the chains of the living realm.

Maybe he will break Kaido free since he’s the only one worthy and strong enough to finally end this.

Maybe Kaido can see you again.

Maybe Kaido will see a night sky with stars that are unshackled.

Maybe your death will mean something other than a tragedy and the turning point of how things have become dull and pointless.

===

Kaido did not have the capability to love.

Respect, yes. But love? No.

It had long died in his chest as did his heart when he was born and raised to be a mindless weapon. Maybe it had had a chance of beating once more (and maybe it was revived momentarily when on that small ship adrift at sea before a sobering snap rang out into the night and a body fell limp in his hands) but that had long been buried in the past.

In his chest sits a dead heart that lays in its coffin within the ground (he does not acknowledge that he had to rebury it or that it was for a short period of time reanimated) .

Kaido cannot love even if he tries (not anymore at least).

Kaido wants to love Yamato but he cannot on account of who Kaido is as a person.

Weapons are not capable of love.

Neither are Yonko’s (the strong ones at least. Shanks and Newgate can hardly be considered that when they show weakness in pride)

When Kaido was just Kaido, an escaped bargaining chip ready to be sold he might have (and he did, he had the love of a friend but that died when they did).

But now he is the captain of the beast pirates.

A monster like him does not deserve love in the first place, he should not crave it. (But Even if that’s correct your words of “your my friend. I’ll always love you” reverberate like an echo chamber within his skull. He tries to bash his head against a wall yet nothing is able to make it stop echoing. He didn’t deserve what you had given yet you gave it anyways)

He has no time for love.

No time to coddle Yamato. 

Yamato has to be strong to face the world.

Has to be strong as to one day kill and not let it haunt him.

To not let the crack of a neck ring in his mind when he thinks he finally has peace.

To not see the dulling eyes that reflect the stars fade out and burn themselves instead into his head.

To not realize the world has color before it’s taken from him.

(But that happens anyways, and like it happened to Kaido it is set into motion when someone smiles in the face of death. For Yamato his spark for his dream boils in intensity and for Kaido it’s a spark that now wants to fizzle out) 

===

Onigashima feels different for some reason and Kaido can’t place a finger on it.

Maybe not a bad type of different per say but it’s one that he notices in time as things progress.

It started off with Black Maria seeming more chipper than usual. The normally malicious smile hidden behind a careful mask momentarily satiated. Red painted lips genuinely up turned as she talks of her newest edition of a letter deliverer. A “cute little thing” her workers picked up from the streets battered and cold. 

Maria always had a soft spot for kids, evident from how she even coddled Yamato even when Kaido told her it would make the child soft. So it doesn’t make Kaido too surprised that she picked up one out of the many strays that wander the streets. Though, how a lone child ended up in Onigashima is beyond him.

She talks fondly of them, her “little messenger” that has seemingly captured the favor of the black widow.

Somehow getting caught in her web yet navigating it and the rest of lions den with ease.

She seems to be having custom kimono and Yukata made for her messenger. Something she occasionally mentions with a rogue tinged smile as her nails dance across Kaido’s bicep. She seems happy, genuinely. He respects her enough to nod along, content in that she is also content.

Next is seemingly Sasaki and Who’s-Who, there’s been less of their demanding fights with Queen, Jack and especially King. 

The two had seemingly befriended the young messenger Black Maria had employed (much to her displeasure because now their apparently “hogging” them from her).

This then extended to Ulti and eventually Page one as well. Apparently they had somehow worked their way onto her good side, even being able to somewhat calm her down which was a godsend for many of the other beast pirates. God knows the amount of times she’s sent a good chuck in grunts to the ER from a small spot of anger. 

But then surprisingly enough even Queen and King seem to take interest in this messenger.

For Queen it’s loud but transactional interest.

Kaido can hear the concerts he puts on but now with added guitar riffs and solos. The crowds cheer with such vigor that almost all of Onigashima shakes with excitement.

For King it’s quiet but personal. 

Kaido knows that his right hand has never trusted nor legitimately liked anyone but himself.

King has never formed friendships beyond that of Kaido and that was fine. 

King was a grown man, he could make his own decisions in life and that included who he (or in this case who he didn’t) talk to. But seeing his right hand for once actually made happy, well it created in kaido an inkling of relief.

For so long King had wallowed in a similar sadness to Kaido.

King had not enjoyed anything, even when partaking in activities such as drinking or partying he only did it for Kaido.

At first Kaido could understand. He finds no point in living, and can’t find enjoyment in much anymore. But Kaido had things, he had Onigashima and the love of thrill for battle and booze and the longing embrace of death.

But later he came to notice that King had nothing besides Kaido. 

King had no people he legitimately talked to beside Kaido.

He never attended parties if Kaido was not there.

He never even took enjoyment in fights.

He never walked with purpose unless Kaido gave him a task to achieve.

King had nothing.

Nothing but the belief that Kaido would bring change and his goal was to just solely help him achieve that change.

And while Kaido saw life to be a prison he wanted King to not see it that way.

He wanted King to live.

To soar just as his people once proudly did.

Wanted to give him what he had gained from his time with you.

To paint the bleak world in color for someone he broke from chains.

To make the bars of life not visible nor matter.

To never realize the stars were collard and held in place.

So hearing he was happy for once.

That he found someone besides Kaido to help fill the emptiness of his life.

Well it piqued his interest, especially since this same messenger had seemingly done the same for his Tobiroppo and one two thirds of his all stars.

(In the back of his mind he bitterly chuckles that it reminds him of you but he brushes it off. Your dead and gone, he’s the reason for that) 

So he arranges for the next meeting to have this messenger included. 

King seems almost eager for this. Wanting to introduce whoever this is to him.

For once Kaido hears King talk about his day in detail rather than simply stating that “it was fine” and leaving it at that.

(Kaido does not hear the small utterance of a name he hadn’t heard in so so long, too caught up in his drink to catch it. It slips through his fingers and he does not realize it, even if he did compute it he’d assume it was a sad coincidence)

===

Days go by as per usual though Kaido does have something to perhaps look forward to now with this meeting.

It’s not easy to thrive in Onigashima even as a decent fighter.

So a literal child somehow making allies with some of his top commanders is certainly something that has some amusement to look forwards to.

So he waits.

And drinks.

And waits.

And shoo’s away the weird crows that have made their home in Onigashima recently.

Something also seemingly attributed to this messenger. King had told him that apparently these were their crows, one they had raised themselves after finding the murder half dead. 

Could be useful for communication, less chance of having the den den mushi tapped or curriers intercepted. Plus…he didn’t mind the bird’s presence.

Something about them was odd, but not in a particular bad way. 

They sometimes circled the sky in a spiral, swirling in a mass of black feathers similar to King.

It was a sight to see.

What's even more of a sight to see was that one of them was bold enough to join Kaido in drinking. The small feathered fiend joining in on partaking in the enjoyment of booze. Its beak dipping down in the large sake cup, then incessantly squawking when Kaido had interrupted its sips when he too wanted to enjoy in the clear liquid.

A large scar paints over its wing, leaving a trail that the little thing seemed to take pride in.

Much like Kaido’s scar that he too takes pride in.

The little thing’s name is “Nobu” , something he learned from King. Apparently along with this messenger her also befriended their little feathered fiends as well.

Kaido jokes that it has something to do with bird intuition.

King rolls his eyes though through the creasing of leather it’s clear that beneath his mask he smiles. 

Not like King can say much anyways when on his shoulders perches several of the birds. All of which linger around his flame, seemingly trying to use it as a source of warmth and equally captivated by it.

Nobu beside him pecks at his arm, making Kaido look down at the twilight coloured bird.

“Caw!” 

Kaido’s eyes drift down to it, before the bird pecks at the now empty sake cup. It was not empty last Kaido touched it…did this small bird really finish the last two thirds of the cup that most of his beast pirates could never stomach. 

Hell, the sake cup Kaido used was custom sized to be bigger than just about any other sake cup. 

Well fuck. Looks like he had a drinking buddy? Bird? 

“I’ll give you this you little shit, your a good drinker”

“Caw!”

“Another round?”

The bird nods, pecking the cup again as if to say ‘hurry up and refill you slow bastard’. 

Kaido chuckles.

Now he feels even more curiosity as to who this messenger was.

Good thing for him that meeting was soon.

===

Typically Kaido did not care much for the meetings, not unless it was something really important or led to him possibly fighting someone (and then being disappointed that they didn’t meet expectations).

But for this one the curiosity curling in his gut is enough to satiate him of relying on the presence of Black Maria at his side and a few dozen gourds of sake to get him through. 

He wonders what this messenger will be like.

Will they be a cunning child? The one who spies the people with well made clothes and awaits to pick their pockets.

Are they scrappy? The child who rustles a raccoon on the street for stealing their food and isn’t afraid to play dirty. 

Or Are they perhaps the opposite?

(In some very distant part of his mind, perhaps buried in the cold grave that contains his heart a thought bubbles out. Like undead clawing out from a grave before being buried once more. That part of him wonders if their maybe like you) 

It swirls in his mind because the thought of a child (just a random child) that would be able to befriend his top confidants.

Worm their way into the hearts of someone like King or even Ulti and Who’s-Who. 

Well…It leaves an impression.

And a all consuming question.

Especially since before even meeting this messenger Kaido can’t help but feel somewhat charmed by them.

Them who has made King more happy and content than Kaido has ever possibly seen the man and create within the vicious Maria a kindness.

They who calms down Ulti’s violent temper tantrums and apparently party with Sasaki.

His thoughts whirl.

And then Kaido Freezes.

The unbeatable monster known for ransacking villages and crumbling a nation that he now uses as a den freezes.

He knows those eyes better than he knows the scars that mar his body.

For a moment Kaido thinks he’s piss drunk or having a hallucination when he sees you there.

He had some before, when tired enough or drunk enough he could swear to see or hear you.

Sometimes you’d sit atop his shoulder (in the corner of his eyes, never fully in focus)

Other times he’d hear your voice like a small whisper of encouragement (even though your voice feels almost unrecognizable from what it once was)

And there you are, sitting in content beside Maria who dressed you in silk. The woman’s usually cruel red smile is replaced by one of adoration and warmth instead of her biting cold.

Laughing at Sasaki and Who’s-Who as the two argue over some contrived bet they made when likely drunk.

Somehow calming down Ulti who nearly blows a gasket at Sasaki who accidentally bumps into her due to his fight with Who’s-who.

Having a paper slid over to you by Queen who looks all too pleased with himself before King burns it in front of him.

And most surprisingly of all King, his right hand also holding that familiar look of comfort and content that Kaido is too familiar with when associated with you.

And then of course there’s just you on your own.

You who sits there completely the same as when you met him in that jail cell and died by his hands minus the bruises. 

The same star speckled eyes.

Same smile.

Same calm and mild mannered disposition despite being in a room infested with monsters.

Kaido thinks back to the times he had pondered what would happen if you had lived, if he had been able to find a doctor or if you somehow miraculously healed from those infectious wounds. If the rusted blunt swords used on your flesh and slashed at by guards had impossibly not led to the discolored wounds that leaked with a disgusting mixture of blood and other fluids.

Maybe you would have joined him on Rock’s crew.

Would’ve met Linlin and Newgate.

Could have helped him Break King out of that cell just as you had for him.

If you’d get along with some of the few on his crew he had some likability for (which he now knows is possibly).

If like all those years ago despite all he’s done you’d still consider him friend.

And seeing you again he realizes that all of that could have happened.

That the future he dreamed of in the few uncrushed bits of optimism that lingers in the corner of his soul could have happened.

The life he longed for on those dark nights where memories haunted him like screaming banshees.

It could have happened.

And it didn’t.

Kaido without thinking says your name, it echoes out and reverberates. The room quiets down, so much so that it feels as if his call to you was the only thing ever spoken between the 4 walls.

Starry eyes look to him.

They feel as if they peer into his very soul. Golden burning embers searching the now dull yellow pits of his eyes.

Searching and searching for something.

Anything.

But there’s nothing. 

Not even an inkling of recognition slithers its way onto your face nor into your mind. Instead horror fills it.

Perhaps just as horrified as Kaido that you forgot. 

And like before, on that night all those years ago Kaido feels something in him break.

He lost you once, perhaps in a way you’ve even lost yourself.

But Kaido will not let you slip away again.

Will not grant mercy as he did all those years ago when he was a naive boy.

Maybe it’s because of his Zoan tendencies or because of his fear (the world feels foreign in his mouth let alone to feel anymore. Because Kaido did not fear anything, not even death) but Kaido feels something swirling in him.

Protectiveness.

And then possession.

He does not want to let you free of his grasp again, will not let you lose yourself once more. 

Even if he knows how hypocritical it is to lock you by his side when you had freed him of such a fate of a cage.

But the world is not kind and neither is Kaido.

All those years ago you lit a spark in him that grew to become an inferno.

He swore that he would create change in this world even if you wouldn’t see it.

He would create change in this world for you now with you to watch.

…He’s hardly surprised when you run.

===

He finds you when it’s too late, already crumpled up and bloody in Maria’s palm. King is overhead still in the air, though the flame behind him is less of a burning red mixed with oranges and yellows but now a blindingly shining gold that scorches the sky.

Broken and bloody you clutch something.

It shines through hands that clasp at it tightly.

Light slipping through your fingers as you clutch it closely to your chest. 

Sparks are sent off roaring as it collides against the bloodied cloth of your kimono.

It sinks through the material and into a kind and compassionate heart.

A heart that cracks into golden dust he can only aquaint to that of stardust, your body is painted in cracks. It’s reminiscent of old statues, crack lining stone though now it bleeds a glittering gold instead of cancerous white lead dust.

The words that fall from your mouth like all those years ago come out like a pained whisper.

It’s almost lost to the sobs of Maria.

But Kaido heard it like thunderclap roaring in the sky.

“Oden?” 

And finally the cracks strain and you quite literally break into pieces. Becoming the stardust that leaked into the endless oblivion of the night.

In that flurry of dust momentarily you reform, if only for a moment. You're in different attire, much better for seafaring as well as a familiar captain's coat atop your world carrying shoulders. The kimono once worn now lays on the barren ground, blood also disappearing into the fine golden powder that drifts upwards.

And then there is someone else there in that dust.

For the slightest of seconds Oden lingers.

His form made up of that dust as you drift up past him, an outreached hand reaches to your own and you grab it. Eyes for the first time opening while in this form, staring into that of the man who was born to boil.

Golden eyes shine intently as a smile stretches across both yours and his face.

And then the dust settles into the night leaving nothing of proof of your existence if not for onlookers who mourn, a kimono and hairpin meant as gifts yet you never knew were and the burning flames of a star ignited over midnight black wings. 

The air settles and the silence echoes for several minutes on end.

It’s only broken when King finally descends down, feet numbly hitting the ground as the starlit flame on his back burns oh so brightly.

The shape of a four pointed star hung upon his back.

It’s then that Kaido realizes that perhaps you were never an envoy of JoyBoy at all but your own entity.

Perhaps one more elusive than the titular liberator. Someone mentioned in those tales yet he ignored in favour of JoyBoy more.

But in the end that’s fine.

Because Kaido now knows better.

But does not know better than to try and catch a shooting star or rope one from the sky.

[captain-tch]

Anchor (Logan Howlett x GN!PlatonicReader)

Logan finds you when the memories of the past threaten to swallow you whole Warning: mentions of self harm, implied suicidal thoughts below the cut

There was so much blood. Tents where you once huddled with your friends, laughing, talking, bonding were in ribbons, the poles keeping them upright having been ripped from the ground. One of the poles was skewered inside a body, the face hidden by the red spray masking their features. Fire pits where you once warmed your hands and toasted marshmallows had been destroyed, the thick smell of ash consuming all of your senses. A charred hand reached towards another, mere inches from touching each other. The makeshift laundry lines had been broken, leaving clothes strewn across the ground, muddied footprints and blood stains marrying the materials. And then there were the bodies.

So many bodies. 

You knelt in the middle of it all, unable to move a single muscle. Your friends, your family, all dead. You were the lone survivor. 

It didn’t feel fair - what made you different from the others? What made you worthy of being alive, whilst your knees sank into their pools of blood and their skin grew cold around you? 

You didn’t even move, or speak, as you heard footfalls behind you. You didn’t look up as people descended upon the crime scene, where you most likely looked like the perpetrator. You just prayed that those who caused this harm had returned to finish the job. However, the horror was only beginning. 

“Hey, we missed one!” 

You stared at your reflection with venom in your eyes. Your gaze honed onto the jagged scar running from the corner of your mouth all the way down to your collarbone. Similar wounds ghosted down your body, but this was the one you could never hide from. The feelings rushed you like a wave - rough hands shoving your shoulders into the ground, their hands leaving bruises, a menacing grin leering down at you, the coolness of the blade as it was first caressed against your skin. The fiery hot pain that lit up your entire being when the knife was plunged into your skin. The feeling of hot liquid rushing out the wound, the overwhelming taste of iron hijacking your senses. 

A bubble of anger and hatred began to boil in your veins. The memories kept flooding you, until you couldn’t remember where you were or what was happening or when you were. All you knew was the pain and the terror and the hate.  

A scream ripped out of you. You grabbed the nearest thing your fingers landed on, a small metal bin, and hurled it with all of your might to the mirror. The crash was like music to your ears, the shards flying around you in slow motion. You didn’t feel them slice at your skin. You didn’t feel the blood well or the liquid slip down your skin. You felt absolutely nothing at all.  

It wasn’t enough. You could still see their faces, frozen in death. You could still smell the fire and ash and burning flesh and you couldn’t stop feeling like you were standing back at your campsite all over again and - 

Your fist flew at the shattered fragments. A delicious fire consumed your knuckles. The images fizzled slightly, then overpowered you. You became starved for that feeling of relief, craving the sweet moment of ecstasy where all your brain could focus on was the agony rippling through your hand. 

Again and again you sent your fist flying into the glass, the hits becoming less coordinated as blood coated every surface you could see.

Bodies burned to a crisp. 

Hit. 

A singular shoe discarded in the mud. 

Hit. 

A knife glinting in the light, glowing brighter as it got closer to your face. 

Hit. 

You were so absorbed in seeking relief you didn’t hear how the thud of your fist matched the one coming from behind, until yours was the only thuds once again. You didn’t hear the tirade of swear words leaving their lips, or your name being repeated over and over again. You weren’t in this reality anymore, too deep into your nightmare of memories to escape. 

A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your chest, dragging you from the mirror. A sob wracked through you - now the images were hitting you ten fold, and no matter how much you struggled in your captor's grasp you couldn’t escape. In the jagged remains of the reflection on the wall, you saw Logan behind you, concern painted over his face. 

“Ssh.” A voice soothed in your ear. You thrashed against them even harder - you didn’t deserve comfort, you deserved to be with your family. 

“Let me do it.” You begged, unsure what exactly you were asking for, only knowing you wanted the leaden guilt and torment to be erased from your being. “I just want it to stop.”

“This is not how it’s done.” Logan held you tighter, gently leading you away from the bathroom. You tried to fight back; god, you were so tired. You were tired of fighting back the memories, or pretending to be okay. You were exhausted. 

You crumpled in his arms, leaning heavily into him. His body didn’t falter, only grasped you tighter. You turned to bury your face in their shoulder, trying and failing to stop the images of terror and agony from flashing across your retinas. 

“What can you see?” His gruff voice asked. 

You froze, the words sinking in. Your brows furrowed, struggling to comprehend what he was asking. “What?” 

“Name five things you can see.” 

Your breathing quickened. “Broken tents -” 

“No,” Logan grabbed your shoulders, firmly pulling you away from his neck. He held you at arms length, staring deep into your eyes. “Here, now. What can you see?” 

“Um,” you sniffled, gently pulling your attention from him to the rest of the room. “Glass. A toilet. Shower. Tap. You.” 

“What can you touch?” 

You sought your senses, reaching out to all of your nerves. “Your flannel, the floor, my clothes, my blood.” 

“What can you hear?” 

Forcing your eyes to close, you tried to turn off your other senses, focusing on your hearing. The distant dripping of the tap snatched your attention. Logan’s steady breathing. Faintly, you could hear shouts and playful screams of children from the hall. 

“What can you smell?” 

The answer flew out of your mouth without even needing to think - it was the smell of safety, the first thing you smelt after you escaped from death's clutches. It was what you smelt as you were carried away from the cemetery that was once your home. “Cigar smoke.” 

“What can you taste?” 

Your lips turned slightly at the corners. “Scott’s shitty bolognese.”

Logan kept you at arm's length, taking you in. Your breathing was laboured, but it was evening out. Your eyes appeared more focused and he felt you could actually seem him now.  

“You good now?” 

You contemplated it. The guilt still lay heavy on your shoulders, and the memories were always playing in your brain, except now it was muted enough that you felt like you could cope. Your heart rate had resumed its usual pace and you didn’t have the urge to smash glass.

“That’s a stretch,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose. “But I’m better. Thank you.” 

“Let’s get you to the infirmary.” 

“No!” Your hand shot out, snatching at his shirt, smearing blood on it. “Please, no.” 

His brow quipped. 

“I don’t want them to see me like this.” 

Logan sighed, assessing your injuries and thinking for a beat. “Fine, but you can’t complain about my bedside manner.”

He wanted to go get a first aid kit; he didn’t want to leave you alone. He used his best judgement, hoping the cuts he could see were as minor as they appeared, grabbing a rag and running it over a faucet, being careful to avoid the glass. He came back to your bed, where you sat on the edge staring after him. He knelt in front of you, opening his palm flat to you. You moved your hand into his, wincing at the sight. Your knuckles looked like they’d been massacred, red coating so much of your skin you couldn’t even see the cuts. Without warning, he dragged the fabric across your wounded skin, a flame of pain following in its wake. You tensed up, squeezing your jaw tight to keep the hiss quiet. 

“You know, this isn’t the best way to deal with your feelings.” Logan’s eyes darted up to connect with yours. 

You scoffed. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on you - many times you had walked into the gym to see him destroying the boxing bag, blood being flung in every direction. “Coming from the expert, clearly.” 

“I can heal.” 

“That’s so not the point.” 

He grunted, dismissing your argument. He carried on his work, his grip on you tight but gentle as the blood disappeared wipe by wipe, revealing the skin beneath. Your skin was littered with cuts; thankfully they seemed minor, them having already stopped oozing blood. 

“Look, kid, you ever speak to anyone about what happened?” 

“Did you?” Logan huffed, frowning at you. You ignored his reaction, watching as he finished cleaning one hand and started on the other. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Logan stared pointedly at you. “I’ve lived over a century and survived a war - you can’t fool me.” 

“Honestly, I’m fine.” 

“The mirror says otherwise.” 

A bubble of anger exploded in your gut. Your words were flung like knives, their edge sharp. “Why does everyone have to keep asking me about how I feel? Is it really that important to have feelings? Why can’t I just bury it deep down til it disappears?” 

“I wish that was how it worked. Stuff like this doesn’t go away overnight. You shove it down, it gets ugly, infected. It’ll turn you into a different person.” 

“Is that what happened to you?” 

A few beats passed, then some more. You worried you had crossed a boundary - this man saved you, and was saving you again, and here you were opening up his wounds whilst he helped clean yours. 

He surprised you by breaking the silence, his voice so low you had to strain to listen. “...Something like that.” 

“No offence, but why should I take advice from someone who clearly doesn’t take it themselves?” 

“Take it or leave it, that’s your call. It changes nothing for me.” He shrugged, wiping away the last bit of the blood. He evaluated his work, carefully turning your hand left and right, assessing for any further wounds he couldn’t see.  

“Either way, it’s going to destroy me, isn’t it?” 

He paused, eyes flitting to yours. He surprised you yet again, sending you a small smile. “Great thing about destruction - it leaves room for something new.”

“Hm.” You pondered it for a minute. “That was very wise of you, you’re starting to show your age.” 

Logan brushed off your attempt at humour, his face turning serious. “Let’s just get one thing clear - this,” he gestured to the bathroom, where the glass still lay shattered on the floor. “Is not going to be a habit.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“Because I only have a few shirts and you’ve already stained two of them.” 

You looked at his white top, cringing. It had smears of red, marrying the immaculate white. “Sorry.” 

Logan waved it off. He threw the rag to the floor, bringing himself up to his full height. He towered over you, yet you felt no fear at his size. You felt at ease, enjoying how his shadow fell over you. 

“What do you suggest instead?” 

“Find me. We can spend some time working on your god awful fighting form.” 

“It’s not that bad!” 

“Whatever you say.” He smirked. A warmth blossomed in your chest. 

Maybe you wouldn’t feel like this forever. Maybe the memories would overwhelm you less and less with time, but they would never disappear. They would always haunt you, lingering in the back of your consciousness. But the man in front of you, your friend, would help keep you grounded. He would be your anchor. And he’d never admit it, but you’d do the same for him too.  

marvel masterlist

[acapelladitty]

Astarion x Reader: Nightmare

Summary - A short, fic in which Astarion has a very familiar nightmare and has to deal with the fallout. (tw: past abuse/impl. nc)

No, no, no. No! He had escaped. He was past this terrible life.

This couldn't be happe-

"He's yours to use as you see fit." Cazador laughed, his harsh grip of Astarion's coiffed hair burning his scalp with its sheer ferocity and strength. "And he'll be as pliant as a whore. Truly, there is no task which he is unfit to endure because he understands not to disappoint me."

His mind under the utter control of his master, Astarion could only scream his anguish internally as he nodded his consent against his will; his blank expression even going as far as to smile invitingly as his knees pressed into the cold stone of the floor with enough pressure to hurt.

It was a scene so woefully familiar that he could already feel the pains which he would endure over the coming hours. The stretch of his limbs, so overwrought that the slightest tension would snap the strong bone. The agony of being ripped apart, again and again as he were used as a common whore, a plaything for his masters whims. The tearing of his abused throat as it welcomed whatever was to be thrust within in as his lips unwilling fluttered with lustful encouragements and desperate pleas for more.

Always more.

With his masters open blessing, the small envoy of men descended upon him like ravenous wolves set loose upon a particularly defenceless sheep. They did not fear his strength, nor his fangs, as they saw him for what he was. Truly, he was unaware of which master they served but whatever news they had brought to Cazador was enough to please him into providing his favoured pet for their free use as thanks.

Besides, he had dared to question a direct order from his master and a transgression like that, a crime so great could not go unpunished.

Something raw snapped free of his throat as one of the men pushed his knees apart until the bones creaked and ached; the cadence of the noise was one which could easily be mistaken for the lust he was being forced to perform, like a marionette with its unseen strings toiling away, but as Cazador met his eye, Astarion could feel his masters glowing satisfaction at his hidden distress.

His cock moved involuntarily, growing hard under their rough strokes and calloused hands as scalding bile rose in his throat before being forced back down with desperate swallows. Naked as a babe, his pale skin was dull in the dim lighting as his hands remained pinned uselessly by his side.

In a blink, he was forced backwards the strength of the throw knocked the wind from his lungs. The livid scarring which encompassed the pale skin of his back pressed roughly against the stone, every small movement which disturbed it making it feel like he was being flayed alive anew as the first of the men reached for the latch of their trousers.

"Astarion." A sharp voice pulled him from his terrors with a violent start as his anxiety spiked at the sudden intrusion. Without thought, his mind still fighting against the violent ghosts of his past, his clawed fingers lashed out, finding instant satisfaction in the sensation of tearing flesh as he thrashed against the fabric of the thin bedroll which housed him.

He would never go back.

He would endure a thousand deaths before being brought to heel once more.

It was only when a familiar scent hit him, the sweet allure of the blood that had recently become his only ongoing source of sustence that his eyes snapped open in an instant, banishing his tormentors fully to the shadows of his mind.

In that same moment, he was confronted with the blurred face of his beloved as they gazed down at him, their body kneeling off to his side. A hand was messily clutched at their face, palm only just able to stem the trickling blood which flowed from the fresh set of gashes which his sharp nails had scored through them.

"Astarion!" They called again, voice urgent as a soft hand pressed against his chest to both center and calm him down. "It's me. Only me. And you're safe - you're safe here with me." The words were familiar and hushed, a respectful desire to not alert the others in camp to the situation at hand fully at war with their obvious desire to make him see reason before he could harm anyone further.

"My love?" He muttered, his hands retracting to his own chest as though scalded by what they had clearly done - the harm they had brought to the one who had only shown him kindness. "What in the hells- what ha-"

"You were having a nightmare." Pulling their hand from their face, shame lanced Astarion's heart like a spear as he surveyed the extent of the damage his enhanced strength had carved through their lovely skin. Even through the allure of the spilled blood, fresh bile rose in his throat as the tension in his body refused to dissipate.

"I was? Oh, that seems unlikely. Probably an overreaction on your part, darling."

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained and at least an octave higher than it should have as he quickly deflected from his own perceived weakness. His chest felt painfully cold as his body attempted to curl in further on itself, phantom pains ghosting along his skin like a thousand tiny needles piercing him all at once with his many weaknesses and failings.

Refusing to rise to the bait, he couldn't bear to look his love in the eye as guilt stole the breath from his lungs. Not that he had never drawn their blood before, but like this? Something hot tickled at his eyes and he rapidly blinked away the onset of shameful tears which threatened him.

He was better than this.

"Would you like a story?"

A gentle hand placed itself on his forehead, allowing him to adjust to the touch as he tilted his head almost imperceptibly into it. It was an unspoken acknowledgement of his struggles, an acceptance that he didn't quite understand but found himself depserate to cling to in his weaker moments.

Eyes clamped shut, Astarion refused to open them as his head nodded in one swift, sharp movement.

In an instant, a warm body slipped down to join him on his bedroll, their side touching his enough that he could initiate as much contact as he could accommodate or tolerate while he settled in to listen to the offered story with deep, steadying breaths.

"A few years back, I was travelling by a little village very similar to the one we just passed through-"

[cherryblossom-chopper]

ღ Badly Hurt ღ

Violent and Angst Content with Ace, Shanks, and Luffy.

————— ୨୧ —————

Ace’s stomach dropped when you crumpled a few meters before him. “(Name)!” he shrieked, rushing toward you as fire licked his skin. Rubble scraped his knees as he hit the ground beside you. He frantically jerked you off the ground, pulling you onto his lap. “Sweetheart,” Ace whimpered, shaking you gently. He brushed the dirt and rock from your face.

When you didn’t stir, Ace tried to gently slap your cheek . Your name found its way into the air as he begged you to open your eyes. The blood starting to cake on your hairline made bile rise in his throat. “Baby, come on, this isn’t funny,” he sniffled as unexpected tears pricked his eyes. His hand was resting on your chest. Agony swelled within him each time it fell, and relief grew each time it rose.

The great pirate, Portgas D. Ace, sobbed when you let out a strangled groan. “(Name), fuck, hey there,” Ace whimpered, nearly out of breath. He leaned over you, trying to shield your face from the harsh sunlight, when you squinted your eyes.

“Ace,” you gasped. Your head burned, and it was hard to focus on the freckles on his cheeks.

“Hi baby,” his voice wavered, and he wiped his tears with his hand, “Welcome back.”

・‥…━━━☆

Luffy had never sat in the spot for so long before. An irritating slapping sound came from Luffy's sandal as his knee anxiously bounced. He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. An unbecoming frown was plastered onto the captain's face. "When are they going to wake up?" Luffy asked, his eyes closely watching his trusted doctor.

"(Name) is going to be okay. They just overdid it… again," Chopper reassured him as the doctor began packing up his equipment, "You should try to convince them to take it easy."

Left alone, Luffy moved his chair close to your bedside. He held your hand, giving it a tender squeeze. The air caught in his throat when you squeezed back.

"Treasure?" Luffy leaned closer to you, his heart beating hard in his chest. Your tired eyes met his, and a smile bloomed on Luffy's face.

"Hey," you tried to smile back. You're entire body ached as you attempted to sit up.

Luffy quickly held you in place with a firm hand on your shoulder. "You need to rest," he said sternly, "I don't like it when you faint. It's scary."

"I can't. I know I have chores to do," you grunted, trying to get out of bed, "I can't lay around all day."

"(Name)," Luffy's grip was stiffer, "Stop it. I don't want to see you get hurt. If you keep doing this…" his breath hitched, and Luffy looked away.

Your heart softened at his hurt expression. "Luffy," you said, squeezing his hand again, "I'll be okay. I was just a little burnt out."

"But what if you're not," he whispered, "What am I supposed to do if you're not okay? What if next time you get too hurt to travel with us? I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around." You cupped his cheek, stroking the scar under his with your thumb. "Okay, Luffy, I'll stay," you relaxed into the pillows, and your aching muscles thanked you.

"Can I get in bed with you?" he asked much, as a frightened child would, his big eyes pleading with you.

"Of course, you can," you offered him a sleepy smile. A nearly aching laugh came out of you as Luffy haphazardly crawled over you to flop onto the other side of the bed. Your heart filled with love as he snuggled up close to you. His arm draped over your middle.

"You're staying put till Chopper says it's okay," he informed you, squeezing you tight.

You smile a little more, "Okay, sweetheart. I can live with that."

・‥…━━━☆

"For fuck sake," Shanks growled, wrenching you upright with his hand around your upper arm. The last of the captain's concerns was the likely bruise his grasp would cause. He pulled you close to his chest. "Stay with me, (Name)," he barked, attempting to maneuver your weak form, "Stay on your feet."

The rock beneath your feet shifted as you swayed in Shank's arm. Nausea washed over you as you looked down at the blood on your shirt. Your mouth opened and closed, desperately trying to find words. The fog settled into your mind, and Shank's darkening face filled your vision.

Shanks pushed you against Benn's chest as he came to help. Benn steadied you with his firm hands and held your back to his chest. Your head tilted back to look up at him, confused about how you got there.

Your partner grabbed your cheeks with his hand. "Babe, look at me," Shanks leaned close to your face, "Focus on me." The battle behind him melted away as he tugged up your shirt.

Benn's hands keeping you upright helped your eyes focus on Shanks. You watched with foggy concern as his face was pulled tight into a frown. His glare went from your body to your face, barely softening when your eyes met.

"Shanks," you mumbled, weakly reaching out to him.

Your voice made his face crack ever so slightly. He shouldered his classic white shirt off and tore it with his teeth. "Never ever do that again," he ordered, wrapping the cloth around your torso, "I'm an emperor, and you're- you're not."

When you jerked in pain, Shanks tenderly shushed you. "You're going to be fine, okay?" he insisted, "You'll be okay. You've gotta be okay."

————— ୨୧ —————

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[tojisun]

into my flesh

toji x fem reader

!! smut fic - minors dni; hinted age gap; mentioned jealousy; praise and degradation kink; petnames; squirting; brief cervix sex; breeding kink; passing out post-sex; mentioned aftercare; toji’s big dick galore // 2.4k words

: have my horny thoughts strung to form a somewhat coherent fic; i hope u guys would like it <33; title of the fic is from flesh - simon curtis

there is something in the way you make toji jealous that unleashes the ever-pooling desire he has for you.

wearing that red silk dress that he bought for you on your birthday, pulling him in with the curl of your lips, but never allowing him to venture close. you sidestep away from his touch whenever he tries to hook his arm around your waist, your lips pursed like toji isn’t worth your minute.

toji's glower grows and his frown deepens but he gets it.

he knows this game. he knows that you're just trying to set his veins ablaze because oh how you love it when his lips are pulled back in a snarl and his hips are punching in their thrust and his hands find their purchase around your neck. oh how you love his growled words pressed on the rise of your breasts, promises of filth rippling along your damp skin, before full lips circle around your hardened nipple. oh how you love it when toji is ruthless with his love — animalistic and jagged and overarching.

toji knows how this game goes so he slinks back into the shadows and watches you. he watches the way you hover around this boy — because what else could he be if not a boy whose lips twitch in their attempt to keep your attention, his fingers fiddling with the loose dress shirt hanging off of him, all because he could not handle your magnificence — and titter at his jokes, your eyelashes batting purposefully delicate, enticing him in a way that no other could. your hair frames your face devilishly: the cut of your jaw is sharp, your cheekbones are defined, and your eyes are half-lidded.

toji is feet away from you but even his throat goes parched. he can’t blame the kid for swooning even if toji wants nothing more but to pull you away from those coveting eyes.

——————————————————

toji’s smile is cruel as he taps the head of his cock on your twitching cunt. you whimper a choked moan, your eyes fluttering shut as the tears continue to spill. your lashes are sticking together and you are sure your “waterproof” eyeliner is all but retained, but fuck.

fuck.

your chest heaves as you gaze back into toji’s eyes, sharp hues of green looking at you with such reverence like you’re so precious even when utterly debauched. like toji loves you like this: heady and desperate and mewling. and he does. you know he does. but there is something so good at the reminder of how your presence pushes toji past his built walls, ushering his scarred palms to feel you.

he is so beautiful like this: impatient and hungry for you.

(toji has always been beautiful but in way that was not apparent in your exes — satoru with his twinkling eyes that crinkle every time he laughs; kento with his quiet drawl as he whispers your name; mei with her sloping curves and her pianist fingers ghosting their touch along your spine. no. toji is not delicate like them; even in his softness, toji has always been different and stark against your history of picnic dates and lavender kisses.

because toji, with his maps of scars and speckles of grey hair peppering the sea of black and crooked grin and aged hands and deep baritone, was not fortunate enough to afford to grow in his gentleness. he had to learn it himself — crafting fragility from his weaponry of agony and anger, all for you. all because of you. because he saw you and realized he loved you and promised, then, that he would bear kindness from his ruined hands.)

“hey,” toji’s voice is gruff as he calls out to you, pulling you from your swimming thoughts. “y’still there, baby?”

you blink back at him, glossed eyes focusing on his face.

oh how cruel of you to think about other people when toji, the man whom you love with all that you are, has you pinned down on his bed, mounting you with his bigger body. fuck, the reminder of how easy it was for toji to press your legs parallel to your chest has you breathing heavily, your pussy clenching at nothing. a quiet huff escapes your kiss-swollen lips, your eyes almost going crossed when toji slides his cock along your soaked folds again.

“yes,” you finally hum. “please, fuck me.” your empty hands slide down his chest, running your fingertips past his nipples and down to where he has a fist around his heavy and thick and full cock. your tongue juts out to swipe at your lips, feeling utterly hungry all of a sudden.

“impatient,” toji tuts. “after almost dozing on me an’ everything.”

your cheeks burn, your lips pouting. you murmur unintelligibly, not really refuting his words but not admitting to them either.

“shh,” toji whispers at seeing you flustered. he cups your cheeks, sliding his thumb just below your eyes. “was just joking, sweetheart.”

your lips part open for a response, one that dashes from the tip of your tongue at the feeling of toji’s cock slowly pushing in your pussy. you keen, your back arching off the bed.

god, you feel so full. and even then, with your quiet whimpers and curling toes, toji’s still not all the way in. your eyes flutter at every steady slide, panting at the feeling of being so stretched out. you don’t even hear yourself keening, so focused in the way toji’s cock breaches your walls like this is the first time all over again.

toji’s so gentle even when you can hear his heaving breaths, his fingers — the free hand that he has that’s holding onto your hip — dimpling your skin where the thin line of sweat builds up because of the heat simmering from toji’s palm. you peer up at him through clumped lashes, gasping quietly at the look you see on his face.

toji’s brows curl the way you know he’s barely suppressing himself from punching in his thrusts. his lips — scarred and plump and beautiful — are pulled in a snarl, and you shiver at the intensity of his eyes when he pulls them up from where you two are connected to meet your own.

he growls, the sound so animalistic it reverberates within the space between you two, sending goosebumps rising across the expanse of your skin.

“shit, baby,” toji groans, full-stopping and bracing himself with his hands on either side of your head. a sort of giddy and disbelief fills the bubble in your stomach — toji isn’t even fully in yet. “you’re so good, might just cum like this.”

he shallowly pulls out, you moan, your tears building up again, before he’s thrusting back in and breaching further in you. “just gon’ feel your cunt warm my cock like this, have you looking like the doll you are, an’ i’ll be gone.”

he sweeps your damp hair away from your face.

“you heard what i said, baby?” toji asks like you weren’t hanging onto his every word like they are gospel, pulling his cock back out, the slide is torturously slow, and only stopping when all that’s left in you is the head of his weeping cock. “you could milk me dry with just a bat of your eyes.”

you giggle, punching his chest playfully. “shut up and fuck me already!” you whine. toji winks at you in response and you roll your eyes with a fond smile, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“mm, whatever my princess wants.” then toji thrusts all the way in.

you wail, feeling his cock hit something nestled deep in you, but you couldn’t even think for a second and figure out what it was because toji’s pulling out, not letting you get used to the full stretch of his cock, and fucking into you just as fast, his pelvis grinding against yours.

toji doesn’t stop, his hips unrelenting as they piston fast and hard and deep. you squeal, your fingers digging into the duvet, fisting them tightly as dizzying pleasure overwhelms you. toji’s head bows, the muscles of his back rippling as he does so, and bites on the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“toji!” you cry, voice almost breaking into a sob, at the sharp pain on your neck mingling with the overdrive of pleasure erupting across your veins.

toji hums, his voice muffled in your skin. when he pulls back, he folds himself before you, pressing his weight on the back of your thighs.

“god, baby,” toji groans. “so wet around me.” he humps his hips forward as he says this, as though urging you to feel the sloppy mess running down the sides of your thighs. you choke, your eyes rolling back. toji does it again, his face finding its spot on the crook of your neck as he fucks you, his hips rolling every time he’s pressed close, and you hiccup at every new angle he hits.

there’s a weight inside you every time toji fucks in. it feels foreign but not unwanted; overwhelming and sensitive. when toji bucks in, you realize what it is that he’s hitting.

you squeal, crying as you scream, almost like the knowledge alone of toji pressing his cock in your deepest part brought about a new feeling of pleasure.

toji laughs, his voice ripping through your echoes of shaky sobs. “you feel it, baby?” he lifts his face to meet your eyes. “oh, yeah you do.” his voice crinkles like he is amused.

“deep!” you cry, trembling, your mind unable to string any more coherent sentences.

toji hums. “feel me kissing your cervix? if i press in like this,” he pauses to press his pelvis flushed close to yours, his eyes furrowing and his grin growing sharp when he feels you squeeze around him, your tight walls spasming around the thick curve of his cock. you let out a long hiss, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of being utterly stuffed.

“see, sweetheart?” toji continues, his voice low and guttural. “your womb is practically opening up for my cock.” you hiccup at his words, your cheeks warming up at the slur of his voice. the imagery makes your moans wobble, and toji laughs when he feels your pussy twitch around him again.

“oh darling,” he croons. “you love it when i talk to you about your hungry cunt? wanna hear the way it’s clinging so greedily around my cock? oh, yeah you do. you love being reminded how desperate of a slut you turn to.”

you sob, your voice breaking into breathy ah-ah-ahs. toji shakes his head, fully endeared even when you are splayed out before him — your skin glistening with sweat; your hair sticking to your forehead; your pussy stretched and wet and dripping as it clings around toji’s thick cock.

toji hums, delighted, before straightening back again. his cock slides out, its head leaving the depths of your walls — your cervix, you are reminded when toji rocks back in again as if testing how deep he’s claimed you — and you watch, even with muddled mind and blurry eyes, as toji holds onto the meat of your thighs.

it all happens so quickly. you saw toji’s mirage, a god-incarnate before you, and the next thing you know, he’s fucking you hard and fast, his mind focused on nothing but making you cum. you can hear yourself screaming, your throat burning alongside the pleasure erupting from your pussy. your blunt fingernails are digging into toji’s shoulders, and it is all you can do to reel yourself in from the numbing pleasure as toji pistons his hips, his pace picking up, going faster, faster, faster–!

“shit, baby!” he crows as the first spray of your squirt hits his pelvis. “yes!” toji hisses. “c’mon, sweetheart, keep squirtin’ on me.”

your eyes roll back and your ears are ringing, but you do just as he said: you squirt with every push of his cock, the rivulets between your thighs dripping to stain the sheets.

it takes toji four unrelenting thrusts before his hard pistoning peters into pathetic humps, his own orgasm building rapidly. “‘m gon’ breed this pussy,” toji murmurs, so pussy-drunk that his words turn into accented slurs. “‘m gon’ fill you up. you want that, baby? wanna be filled up?”

“yes, please!” you scream, nodding, your hand reaching down to rub at your hardened clit. “fill me, toji! fill me, please!”

“of course, sweet thing,” toji growls, pushing his cock all the way in, before you feel the sprays of hot cum shooting into your sensitive walls.

a choked moan escapes your throat before you are cumming agin, your soaked cunt squeezing toji’s one last time — “fuck, darling,” he moans, his voice curling into a hiss — then your eyes finally shut close.

——————————————————

you wake up to your head tucked into the crook of toji’s neck, your silk pajamas crinkling as you move about the bed. throbbing pain echoes mutely from your spine, and your exhausted mind reels back at the onslaught of memories.

oh. oh fuck.

you can’t believe you passed out. while toji’s balls deep in you, too.

you choke, embarrassment rushing across your veins.

a muffled squawk is ripped from your throat, tentatively distracting you from your thoughts, when toji’s arms tug you further into his embrace like you’re not already pressed flush to him. you study his face, watching as his brows begin to crinkle like he’s about to wake up.

before you can effectively escape from the rousing toji, his voice rumbles from where his lips are pressed on the crown of your head.

“g’mornin’,” he whispers.

you cringe, realizing that you have to face the embarrassment of passing out on toji while he’s literally breeding you. you cough, awkwardly, and greet, “good morning,” your voice quiet and broken. oh wow.

toji whistles, pulling back just enough to eye you. “you sound ruined,” he states.

you smack his exposed — hickey and bite mark-littered — chest. “whose fault is it?” you hiss at him.

toji grins. “mine.” he says it so cheekily and with so much pride, his scarred lips stretching to show off sharp canines.

you smack him again, futilely ignoring the explosion of warmth in your cheeks and the growing embarrassment curling at your stomach.

“ow! baby, ow!” toji cries, rolling away to avoid your soft punches. you follow him with difficulty, your body still aching, but you are determined to smack toji until your shame abates.

you fail, anyways, when toji drapes himself across you like an overgrown and clingy cat, trapping you between him and the soft bed.

ugh, why’s he literally so cute.

[nikachansstuff]

You were always the prettiest of the three

You were four years and two months the first time you heard your mother saying the words. It hit you in the chest, something between agony and guilt. But you were a child feeling those foreign words, so you just cried big, fat tears in your father’s arms.

Beauty is labor.

That was her words, while she brushed your long hair. One hundred times before bed, another one hundred before braiding to start the day. Your scalp was so sensitive those days, and you were only six, but your mother told you repeatedly: beauty is labor. And love would come.

And how beautiful Elain was. Like a blooming rose, my lovely Elain, Father used to say.

One day you overheard her, telling your older sister - your protector - how you were an important investment. A promise of a future marriage. But all beauty, nothing else. No high hopes, Nefertiti’s face blessed, but nothing else.

The balls in society started earlier for you. Not even a debutant, but your presence was noticed in those halls. You liked the colors, the smell of flowers. But there was always the sharpness in the older girls eyes, and you understood their reasons.

Because beauty is labor.

When your mother took her last breath, you felt guilty for a while. For the wave of relief, you see? There was pain, yes. There was grief. But you can still feel your scalp tingling every time you face the vanity’s mirror.

Life went fast and still after her passing. Father lost the title, lost the fortune, lost his health. Lost his hope. But even with the cold and hunger, you found happiness in that crowded cabin. You had your family. And the seeds your little sister gave you turned into a beautiful garden.

The labor in that type of beauty didn’t hurt you, besides the faint superficial scars in your hands. You found love in gardening, among the flowers.

And yet again, life changed. A long lost aunt became ill, your younger sister - the brave heart - left during the night. Father regained his wealth, his health, and stood again a little taller.

Fast and still. Going by flashes.

You didn’t miss the ballrooms, but it was there you found love. His blue eyes had a promise of forever, and deep inside, you thought that he could understand what comes with beauty. You felt, you fell. The engagement was the natural step.

Giving yourself fully was the next. Something wet, something sweet. Lingering touches in once forbidden places.

Love. For the first time, love. The one your mother had promise, in those long sessions brushing your hair; hurting your scalp.

Love.

And suddenly, magic is very real. Brave heart is no longer human, with that delicate pointed ears and strange winged companions.

That was the first time you saw him.

The man who had ivy in his strong hands. You asked him about flying, he told you about how the wind sings.

War is coming. The chilling air brings people in the property, possible allies, enemies to the crown. You feel small in comparison to such strong sisters, but you endure. You emulate the courage you see in those identical silver steel eyes.

It happened in the middle of the night. They woke you and took you into that throne room, with all those strangers.

“Put the prettier one first.”

The last words you heard with your ordinary human ears. Deep inside, you thought fate was cruel for laughing at you by agreeing with your mother’s mantra.

You died that day. As the cold water surrounded your body, you felt yourself die.

You took your first breath in those new powerful lungs. Reborn, through pain and magic. And then, you’re claimed.

Mate.

The foreign word hangs in the air, while your sister - your protector - snarls like a wild beast, defending you from that claiming.

You died. Or maybe you’re sleeping? Surrounded by visions, and new sounds. That relentless heartbeat. The bird of flame. And those old hands.

They think you lost your mind. Maybe you did, maybe the Cauldron took too much, took your human life, human love. Took your sanity.

Maybe you did lost everything. It’s hard to see in that murky realm. No one sees you.

You feel like drowning again.

But then… sunshine.

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

He sees you.

The winged male with ivy in his hands. He’s there again, and something inside you eases with his presence. He is safe heaven. He didn’t let you drown.

He offers his hand and company. Those cobalt jewels, those deeply scarred hands. You heard yourself saying how beautiful he is. All of it, beautiful.

He takes you to the garden. No imposition, just easy company. It feels familiar, because he sees you - with that bright hazel eyes.

The war keeps pushing boundaries, and you are still human at heart. So you emulate your sisters’ courage once again and to protect the vulnerable you make yourself vulnerable too: you beg your old love for asile, for recognition and reconciliation.

You dare utter the words… your heart belongs to him.

You watched as he shattered everything, every last bit of your once human heart. It lays there, for everyone to see how beauty earned you nothing but labor at the end.

The siren’s call promise you salvation. So you answered it, and ended up in chains. Without hope, you just wait for the ending.

The winged male with ivy in his strong hands. He’s there again. You thought you had seen him in a dream, but his arms feels very real once he saves you.

“You came for me.”

He cradled you in his chest. His strong armor gives you comfort. He smells of cedar and mist, and soothe something inside you. It’s familiar.

It gives you hope. And you feel so grateful for his presence that you kiss him, openly. Such a dare move for a lady, but it doesn’t matter, because he saved you. He saw you, repeatedly, and then he saved you.

So you see him too.

From his deeply scared hands to his afflictions and recurring headaches.

You learn his favorite baked goods - raspberries scones. His favorite tea. You invite him to the garden and show him your plans for it - for the future. His calming presence gave you hope for it, to plan for a future. In this new body, new essence.

Life doesn’t go as fast as before. Not by flashes. Your heart swells everyday with his presence.

It’s familiar.

Like a long lost tale you heard before.

They keep reminding you you’re claimed, by another. But it’s wrong. Fate just failed you all your life, why obey willingly once again?

Because those ivy hands brushing your fingers? That feels right. His presence in the garden, longing glances through the kitchen’s window: these feels right.

You dream then. Of his hands, first. Touching you freely, the ivy surrounding your body in a heated embrace. You wake up breathless, yearning for him.

Such dare move for a lady to take those steps, in the longest night of the year.

You reach for him. And, thank to all Gods, he offers you the long dreamed promise and you give him permission to make it real. To take it all.

“This was a mistake.”

He murmured the words and vanished in the shadows.

Something inside you, something you didn’t know to still have, breaks with those words. The other half, he takes with him without knowing.

Cruel fate fails you once again. If you’re an oracle as they said, how could you misinterpret the signs? You wish you could hide in the shadows too.

During the day, you fell like drowning in the absence of that long lost tale.

But at night… you still dream of ivy. Everyday.

Heated longing ivy dreams.

[imtryingbuck]

Timeless Love part two

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/n’s life after he finds her in the base.

Word count: 2,037

Warnings: angst (nightmares). fluff. medical inaccuracy (probably, most definitely). pregnancy.

Part 1

Masterlist

“I made a promise didn’t I?”

~~~

True to his word - nearly eighty years later - Bucky got down on one knee by the lake near the tower and asked her to marry him and of course she said yes.

Six months after he proposed, a year after she woke up, Tony had the large room that was normally used for his luxurious parties transformed into a magical, picture perfect wedding venue.

Bucky’s eyes welled up with tears as he watched the love of his long life walk down the aisle towards him, Steve and Sam stood next to him with soft smiles on their lips, Nat and Wanda standing on opposite sides of them with the same expression on their faces, Tony’s arm was wrapped around hers as they walked closer to her happiness.

Their hearts beating as one once they were announced as man and wife, both had tears running down their faces as they shared a passionate kiss.

In the year they’ve been married everything was perfect by day, full of laughter, happiness and love but by night as the compound grows completely silent Bucky would flinch as her cries would wake him up, he knew better than to touch her when she’s having a nightmare since the first time - and only time - he did, she had him pinned faced down on his stomach and his right arm put behind him painfully, his heart had pounded violently against his chest not because he was scared of her but for her, his calming soft voice finally managed to wake her up; for the rest of the night she clung on to him as her tears wet his naked chest.

That night was no different.

He watched in agony as she tossed and turned from her side of the bed, her eyes moving frantically behind her closed eyelids, mumbling quietly but what he could pick up was ‘no’, ‘I’ve been good’, ‘please stop’.

“Doll, sweetheart. Doll come back to me, you’re safe I promise.” He said softly. “Come on my love, wake up.” After over five minutes of him trying to coax her back awake it worked.

“B-Bucky?”

“I’m here darling, you’re okay I promise.” He sat there watching as she came to her senses, hearing her heart beat settle he knew she realised where she was and that she was safe. “C-Can I hold you?”

She doesn’t answer verbally, instead she crawls over towards him and climbs on to his lap and into his welcoming embrace. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry doll?”

“I… I woke you up didn’t I?”

“It’s okay.” Running his fingers up and down her naked back feeling the scars as he does, Bucky places kisses to her forehead and hairline. “Do you want to try and get some more sleep?”

“Can I stay here?”

“Of course my love.” He shifts them both whilst he pulled up the pillows to be behind his back, then grabbing the covers and pulling it over her. “Goodnight doll, I love you.”

“I love you too Buck, please don’t forget that.”

Having a medical degree really came in handy when someone was injured on a mission. Sam had just been shot down out of the sky landing hard on the ground, as Nat and Steve covered Y/n she cut Sam’s suit to get to his side where she made a hole to drain the blood that was filling his lungs. “Steve we need to get him back to the tower and quickly.”

“Let’s move him.”

“Y/n… are-are you carrying me?” Sam’s voice stuttered with a slur.

“I am.”

“I’m never going to live this down.” Nat couldn’t help but laugh and nod in agreement. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” She replied as she laid him gently on the table in the jet.

“P-please don’t let me die.”

“You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

Y/n let Steve carry Sam out once they landed back at home just so no one teased him about being carried by a woman who was smaller than him. But it was too late Tony and Bucky teased him the second they were allowed to see him.

“If Y/n didn’t do what she did Sam wouldn’t be here right now.” Helen Cho stated once she had finished giving the team an update on Sam’s condition. “Y/n can I speak to you privately?”

Once they were in an empty room, Y/n grew anxious thinking she did something wrong and that Helen was going to tell Fury which meant Fury would kick her off the team and she would be send to the Raft and she would never see Bucky again and he would move on and forget all about her and she would be alone an-and-

“Y/n breath! Deep breath in, slowly exhale.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to hurt him-“

“You saved his life. You did an amazing job and that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to offer you a job in the medical bay.”

“Bu-but will Fury allow that?”

“I don’t see what the problem will be, I’ll speak with him but whatever he says just know the offer is still there.”

“I’ll do it, unless he says no.”

When she told Bucky that she was potentially going to be a nurse again he beamed with pride, picking her up and spinning them around, telling her how proud he was of her. Two days later Fury called her into the office he had at the tower to discuss how she would split her time between missions and working in medical bay. Bucky didn’t think it was fair that she would still have to go on missions but she didn’t care, she was just happy she could be a nurse again and help people.

For six months she had been separating her time between missions and working in the medical bay Bucky had to admit that he was missing his wife and he understood that she was busy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her nonetheless.

He had gone down to the med bay to see if he could grab lunch with her, Helen shook her head at him and told him that Y/n had gone up to their apartment, the place he was now standing outside of. Slowly opening the door - just as he and the team did in order not to scare her and send her into a panic attack - he stood leaning against the doorframe and it felt like he had been transported back in time at seeing her sitting at her small desk hunched over it with paperwork in front of her, he couldn’t help but smile.

“I can feel your eyes on me” her whispered voice snapped him out of his memory.

“Are you alright doll?”

“I’m okay just tired, how are- what’s wrong?”

“Stand up.”

“What?” Crossing over to where she was sat he took her hands in his and helped her stand, his eyes squinting as he looked her up and down. “Buck? What… are you doing?”

He gets down on his knees and presses his ear against her stomach, a soft gasp falling from his lips, one hand on her waist the other holding the back of her thigh. A chuckle falls from his lips as he pushes his ear further into her stomach.

“Buck?”

“Doll” he looks up at her with tears glistening his eyes making the blue even brighter. “Baby you’re pregnant.”

“What? I-I can’t- are you sure?”

“There’s a heartbeat! I can hear it! Strong, a very strong heartbeat, doll.”

“We’re… are we having a baby?” Bucky looked up seeing tears fall from her eyes, he nodded with a huge smile on his lips before he goes back to listening to the heartbeat of their unborn baby.

When Helen confirmed that there was indeed a baby in Y/n’s stomach Bucky wrapped his arms around the love of his life and all but took the air out of her lungs by kissing her and telling her how much he loves her.

“I have some more news for you.” Helen’s voice made them pull apart.

“What? Is it okay? Is something wrong?” The panic in Bucky’s voice was clear as his eyes bounced from Y/n’s stomach to Helen.

“Everything is fine, they are both healthy.” She smiles.

“B-Both? As in-“

“Twins?”

“Congratulations James and Y/n, you’re having twins.”

Bucky passed out.

As the months passed by the bigger Y/n’s stomach grew, at seven months pregnant she looked like she was carrying five babies - as she put it. Bucky loved it though. Watching as her belly swelled with not one but two of his babies did something to him, he was already protective of her as it was but now it increased a thousand times over. And now he never let her do anything for herself, if she needed food? He got it, needed a drink? He got it, hell even if she needed to go to the bathroom? He took her.

And when Bucky wasn’t there and on a mission he had someone else running around for her.

“Hey doll, I’m just finishing off my run and I’ll be right home. How are you?“ He panted lightly down the phone, rolling his eyes at Sam as he runs around him in circles.

“I’m okay, my waters broke, how are you?”

“I’m good- wait, what did you just say?” Bucky’s eyes widen hearing her words.

“I’m o-“

“No not that bit, doll did you just say your waters broke?”

“Oh yeah, I’m on my way to Helen now.”

Bucky ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the compound with Steve and Sam right behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest the closer he got to his world.

“I’m here! They aren’t here yet are they?” He panted as he got around the corner.

“No Buck, not yet.” Sighing a breath of relief that he hadn’t missed the birth of his children, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

Seven hours after her waters broke she was gripping onto Bucky’s and Steve’s - they had asked him to be there after they announced to the team that she was pregnant, Steve cried whilst saying ‘yes’ - hands for dear life as she pushed the first baby out, followed a few minutes by the second baby.

“Boys. Two healthy boys.” Helen beamed as she handed the crying babies to their momma.

*four years later*

Tony had surprised the married couple with giving them their own floor in the tower, it was quickly transformed into a perfect family home for the four of them. Bucky was currently walking through the door that led him to his family, a smile instantly lighting up his face as he heard the excited squeals coming from the twins, no doubt causing chaos.

“Dada!”

“Hey little man.” Picking up his son, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Been good for momma?”

“Yes!” Liar he thought to himself.

“Buck?”

“I’m here doll.” He smiled at hearing his other trouble maker come running towards him.

With his two sons in each arm he walked towards the kitchen where his better half was cooking dinner, his eyes never leaving her form even when the twins wiggled to get out of his arms.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

“I’m just admiring my view.” Wrapping his arms around her, his hands going straight to her deflated bump - which he missed so much - he places a kiss to her neck. “Where’s my little princess?”

“She’s asleep, but she needs to wake up now so she can sleep through the night.”

“I’ll go and wake up our little grumpy pants.”

As he walks out of the bedroom, he stands in the doorway watching as Y/n gets the boys into their chairs, both of their attention focused on the food in front of them, he smiles softly. His family was completed by the newest addition which he currently had in his arms, their three month old baby girl.

He made a promise so many years ago, a promise he made sure he kept to.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 17:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Mentions of blood and pain

--------------------------------------------------

“Hun-ter…” The name spoken so weakly over broken voice took you by surprise and it was several seconds before you realized the voice was your own.

“Hey,” the gentle, yet modulated response nearly brought you to tears.

Calloused fingertips swept over your cheeks again and again in thoughtful caress and you found yourself memorizing every crack and tiny scar on his tan skin, fingernails chewed short from a lifetime of weighted leadership.

“Alright, you ready to go home?”

Home.

The weight of that word seemed heavier than all the hurt that weighed your body to the ground.

Where is home?

With all sense of belonging swept so violently away by conflict, nothing made sense anymore. Now the guilt brought on by your own actions made it seem like a self-inflicted wound of loneliness.

Strong hands, gloved once again, secured your gear as well as his own onto his person. He shot a cable high up over the ledge where he’d climbed down to you not even an hour ago.

“Ready to go?”

“Definitely ready to get out of here!” You forced a laugh, hoping desperately to dissolve that gnawing feeling of future uncertainty.

“Yeah, me too. Well get to the top and I’ll signal Tech and the others. Our coms don’t work so we have to do it manually.” He held up a case of flares.

Oh. You’d forgotten how the moon’s electromagnetic frequencies would mess with their coms and other devices. You glanced at Hunter. He stood strong, but you knew him well enough to know that beneath the helmet he was exhausted. The constant barrage on his senses - although drastically dulled by his bucket and kit - would have been taking its toll on him since setting foot on this moon. It made you feel all the more guilty.

“You doing okay?” You asked softly, putting a hand on the helmet where his cheek would be.

“I’m okay.” The automatic response did nothing to ease your mind.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, as he adjusted his gear and knelt beside you. He chuckled, sounding as forced as yours had been. “Besides, that’s my line. You’re the one I’m about to lift out of here. Are you doing okay?”

You let his deflection pass over you, doing nothing to assuage the guilt that grew heavier knowing that each moment on this wretched moon most likely worse for him than the last. “As good as I can be.”

“Yeah. I know.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, gently sitting you up. His heart cracked again at how the pain drained your complexion, lips clamped tightly over shivering muscle, unable to quiet the whimper of pain that slipped through as every subtle motion brought tremendous agony.

“Sorry…” he breathed.

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “...’s okay”

A sharp stabbing pain wrenched a scream from your lips, eyes flying wide, violent and unbidden as he picked you up in his arms though he was ever so careful.

He flinched, muscles tightening ever so slightly though it was impossible to tell if it was through pity or an overload of an already tried and tested mind.

“I know….” the hurt in his voice was palatable, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Reaching the top, he gently placed you on the ground, squeezing your shoulder with every hiss of pain as abused muscles took time to settle and relax once more.

“Just breathe,” he instructed calmly. “I’ll signal the others and then we just have to wait.”

The sudden exhaustion hit you all at once, as though your body knew that it had finally made it safely through to the other side of the torment. Hunter seemed to notice it too.

“Sleep,” he said gently. “I’ll be here. We shouldn’t have to wait much longer.”

You wanted to protest - that you would stay awake with him to keep his mind off of that horrible sensory assault - but the strong, alluring pull of unconscious rest was much too heavy and there was no strength left to fight it and you let it take you.

--------------------------------------------------

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[ashessonfire]

listen here, you DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO RIP MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST AND THROW IT IN THE MUD AND STAMP ON IT WITH THAT LATEST KAZ FIC OF YOURS, GET IT? I'm completely… devastated. I never asked you for anything, please do a part two, I BEG YOU!

ps: darling, you write very well ♡

'Forgotten' Part two - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt: Kaz slowly begins to remember your relationship, but what good is that if he has already tossed you aside? Can the Bastard of the Barrel save the one thing he truly loves?

You can find the first part of 'Forgotten' here!

- Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader (established relationship) - Warnings: A lot of angst, nothing too graphic, lots of emotion coming from Kaz + his crows, so much sadness, dont worry too much though ... :)

A/N: The amount of requests for this have been insane, once again i truly love each one of you, my heart is so full. I hope this is a good ending for the first part, im very happy with how it turned out!! P.S I am so sorry for the pain i seemed to have caused with the first post T-T ════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Glimpses of you tormented Kaz, plaguing his every thought. His mind seemingly fixated on the one person he had deserted out of pure spite.

It had been two weeks since you were outcast, and Kaz had prayed to the Saints that it would relieve him of the weight gripping his heart, ever since his memory was ripped away from him. Yet they seemed to laugh in his face, spitting back a far more excruciating punishment for his actions.

Returning his memories.

The second you had left his office, tears spilling as they swirled in your shining eyes, Kaz had felt something deep stirring within him, something resembling dread. Since then, he had begged any higher being for relief as realisation began to flood his senses, engulfing his every thought and action.

Wounds scattered his already battered heart, with the rest of the crows seeming to crush it further each day. Ever since you had slipped carefully crafted letters under each of your friend’s doors, you had melted into the shadows of Ketterdam, not a single trace of your presence left behind.

You knew Kaz ultimately wasn’t to blame, yet the scars he had painted onto your soul were excruciating, physically pushing you away from him to escape further agony. You too, prayed to the Saints that your boyfriend, or perhaps ex-boyfriend, would regain what he had lost, and remember you as his lover.

Wind swept through your hair, salt spraying your glowing features as you sailed towards Ravka, choosing to allow the breeze to blow your pain along the wind, and back to Ketterdam. Pushing Kaz to the furthest corner of your mind, you stepped off the ladder onto Ravkan soil, determined to reap the benefits of your misfortune rather than wallow in them.

Taking the outstretched hand of a grinning sailor, you allowed the warmth of his smile and the welcoming of the group around you to bathe you in some sort of content.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

It seemed as if your prayers had worked, as each day wracked Kaz with a new memory or emotion, each one undeniably interlinked with you. His feelings overtook him, spewing out in rageful fits or harsh punishments for anyone daring to cross him, deepening the rift forming between the boss and his crows.

The moment each crow had read your letter, it instantly clicked into place what had happened, despite your deliberate attempts to remain vague about the exchange which had stolen you from them.

Sitting in Jesper’s room, the crew remained sullen, intense emotions clouding the air, becoming unbearable. The suffocating atmosphere was fractured when Nina suddenly burst out, “I am going to kill him. I warned him to be gentle, yet he pushed my attempts aside, and now...this. The hit could have been hard enough to at least remove some of his stubbornness.”

Nina huffed, rage coursing through her blood at Kaz’s actions, had she not been clear enough? “He can’t just send her away, can he? I mean, I didn’t think he would have it in him to do that, even before those two got together,” Jesper seethed, confusion lacing his voice but an unmistakable anger matching Nina’s.

Wylan remained silent, picking at the rotting wood of the floorboards, too overwhelmed at the loss of you to comprehend his emotions. Inej similarly remained quiet, eyes fluttering shut as she soundlessly prayed to each Saint that you would return, and Kaz would finally see sense.

Despite the varied reactions to their boss’s stupidity, a common thread held them closely together, pain. To each one of them you meant the world, a prevailing light penetrating through the dreary Barrel life which often consumed its inhabitants.

You lit up the darkness of the ruthless city, aiding Jesper in amusing pranks often against Kaz, in which you would take the blame for, knowing deep down Kaz could never hold it against you.

You consoled Wylan when whisps of his past would haunt him, taking him on walks along the canal or making his favourite tea and taking in the views of Ketterdam from the rooftop. The warmth of the suns beams and your words washing away his nerves.

For the usually reserved wraith, you encouraged her confidence, easing her fear of touch in a similar way in which you helped Kaz. Around very few other people Inej could say she felt the same comfort and unconditional love that radiated from your mere presence. Nina could positively agree with how Inej felt, intensely missing her gossip companion and partner in crime. You knew every detail about her, and the rest of the crows, in a way nobody else could ever counter.

On the third week of your absence, the crows had seen very little of their leader, the few signs of his presence being the scraping of a chair in his office, or the beat of a cane on the panels of the Slat, indicating he was finally eating before walling himself up in his desolate isolation again.

Paperwork scattered Kaz’s desk, yet it remained as untouched as it was when he had exiled you. His days were spent calculating finances, unable to bring himself to plan a heist without you, with a distinct and vital element of his crew missing.

A sudden echo of weighted footsteps sounded outside of his door, their ascent bringing a chorus of hushed voices as the crows burst into his office. It had been days since they had last encountered their boss, his previous sighting confining him almost indefinitely to his room. It was in the early hours of the morning a few nights ago that he had finally emerged to gather some papers from the common room, when his attention snapped up to a sight that he was utterly unprepared to face.

Before him, by a fireplace laden with dim embers, sat Inej, Wylan, and Jesper, all three bearing cascading silver lines down their faces. Wylan’s breathing was ragged as he sobbed into Jespers chest, the sight of which triggering the other two. Realisation slammed into Kaz, knocking the breath out of his lungs, startling him with the intensity of emotion that welled up within him.

Not only had he destroyed the one true tenderness in his life, but he had also destroyed his closest friends too.

By this point, he had figured that he had long been captivated with you, and the most recent flashes of memory brought his relationship barreling down on him. Although patches were hazy, he had decoded exactly what he felt.

He was in love with you.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Before any of the group that had stumbled in could voice their opinions, the sight of their boss stunned them into silence.

Kaz remained hunched over his desk as always, but the ghostly paleness to his skin, the hollowed cheeks that protruded at sharp angles, and the grave circles etched underneath his reddened eyes deeply unsettled his crows. Nothing, not even Pekka Rollin’s greatest attempts to wound him, had ever resulted in Kaz Brekker’s complete and utter destruction.

Until now.

Inej quietly cleared her throat before courageously stating, “Kaz, we are going to find her. Not only are the Dregs seriously disadvantaged, but we also need her. Not just for jobs, even though you may not remember…” until she was cut of by a sharp voice.

Kaz’s head whipped up, glaring with a deathly warning at the people who stood before him. “I do remember,” he lashed out, voice deep and gravelly at the lack of use, “I remember everything now. You think I would have done that if I had known?”

His words echoed around the dim room, but it was something about Kaz’s face which caused the crows to collectively draw in their breath. A tear had freed itself from the confinement of his heart, snaking it was way down his ashen cheek, revealing to the group the torment he was being subject to by his own actions.

With a shaky hand, he procured a crumpled piece of paper from his waistcoat, holding it out to the group in a similar way in which he had done to you, the emotion in his chest pressing tightly against his lungs.

Jesper stepped forward cautiously, snatching it from his hands and unfolding the corners. The group peered over his shoulder to discover a meticulously thought-out plan to retrieve you from Ravka. Kaz glanced at the group, for the first time allowing them a glimpse of his true feelings, begging them silently to aid in his mission.

With a swift look to the others, they wordlessly agreed to Kaz’s plan, Jesper handing back the paper to his boss and giving a tight nod to Kaz, “Lets go then,” he declared.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Through a thorough process of force, Nina had coaxed the reality of your conversation out of Kaz, pulling up rage from the group. However, they excellently withheld it, knowing you would never blame Kaz for his actions whilst his memories fogged over, despite the pain they had caused.

The air around them cleared as the ship sailed away from the port in Ketterdam, the grey of the ocean blending into cerulean as the voyage to Ravka proceeded. If Kaz’s calculations remained accurate, you would be collecting information within the small harbor you had first landed in, leaving little ground for the group to cover in search of you.

Once they reached land, they split off into six desperate individuals, Jesper searching the market, Inej scouring the rooftops, Wylan inquiring with locals, and Nina investigating the shops that littered the town square. Kaz stationed himself inside a cramped booth at the busiest of the sparse bars that lined the town, his informants assuring him it was the most popular with Ketterdam’s visitors.

For the first time in years, Kaz felt sick with nerves. He remembered how anxious he had felt when he summoned the courage to admit his feelings, but the sheer force of his panic now tied him down and drowned him.

Tears poured frequently from his eyes during the weeks of your absence, the dread of not knowing how you were constantly squeezing at his heart. The knowledge that if something happened to you it would be his fault ate at him until he was a mere shell of the man you had loved.

A voice pulled him out of his daze, like a siren inviting a sailor to dance in the depths of the ocean, Kaz was defenseless against you. As he turned his head towards the sound, you also glanced over at the dark figure in the corner, heart ceasing its movements in your chest the second your gazes locked.

It truly was him.

Frozen by the sight of you, Kaz couldn’t comprehend his own actions, remaining frigid in his seat as he stared at you, eyes once again being subject to the sting of tears.

‘Pathetic’ he thought to himself.

You gave a kind smile to the men you were conversing with previously, quietly slipping into the opposite seat from Kaz. You parted your lips to begin small conversation, not wanting the tension to grow too intense, but your words crumbled as he shot out, “I need you.”

Confusion flooded you, yet the desperation flooding his eyes signaled that he wasn’t done, the words were just slowly configuring inside. You knew him well enough to give an encouraging nod, letting him calculate his next words.

“I need you to come back. I remember it all, and” he stopped himself, breathing shallowly as his lungs refused to intake enough air, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tears leaked from his sunken eyes, his fragile appearance wracking you with emotion, the temptation to reach out to him becoming unbearable. Nobody but you had ever seen the Bastard of the Barrel break, yet he sat before you now, heart on full display for only you to see.

Yet you remained strong, answering his pleads by stating, “And how will that go? I know you lost your memory, but will you just push me away again if your feelings overwhelm you?” Before he could respond, you breathed out, “Kindness often isn’t free in this world Kaz, but when it comes to you, I would never expect anything in return. However, if you truly want me back, I need you to prove to me that it's really,” you paused,

“You.”

Instantaneously, Kaz reached for your hand, gloved fingers grasping desperately at your own, interweaving and caressing them in an iron grip. “I swear,” he started, “I will never let anyone harm you again in the way I have, my love,” a flood of emotion seeping into his words and gaze. “Including myself. I’m sorry,” he said, guiding your interweaved hands to his lips, the trembling a mere afterthought as he kissed your knuckles.

Smiling sadly at him, you tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, hearing a shaky sigh leave his lips at your touch, mere weeks leaving him in desperation for you.

“The others are here I suppose?” you questioned, earning a short nod from Kaz and a diversion of his gaze. Unwinding your hand from his, you stood up, glancing down at the sorrowful man, and offering a soft smile, “Lets go find them then,” heart fluttering as Kaz’s hand gripped your wrist, unable to go without your touch a moment longer.

Weaving your hand through his once more, your gaze softened as the tension carved into your boyfriends sullen face released, as the pair of you made your way out of the establishment, connected by the hands that gripped the other and the love that radiated between the pair. Once you had received at least a hundred embraces and kisses from the other crows, you embarked on the journey back to dreary city of Ketterdam.

Not once on the voyage did Kaz leave your side, exchanging soft touches in each moment, and gently whispering against your temple a breathy, “I love you,” as the sublime colours of the sunset bled into the ocean, coating the two in a golden haze.

Relief settled between you, having the other fully within their reach again.

As Kaz’s attention diverted back to the wide expanse of water before him, you pour all of your emotions into your next words.

“I love you too, Kaz Brekker.”

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

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[mochiwrites]

an isal drabble based on @isjasz and @kunehokki's au and this ask ( content warning for blood and death <3 )

(Someone is screaming. You realize it’s your own voice.) 

His head hurts, it aches as if it were splitting in two, his throat feels raw, blood spills on his chin. But he can’t stop, he can’t. He’s so close, he’s almost there. He can’t give up now, can’t allow the name of his home to slip away from him once again and leave him a wanderer with no anchor. 

The King is right here, he can help. Together they can say the name of their home, they can–

(Your country!!! Your home!!! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!!!)

He can’t lose it, he needs to grasp it. 

(You’ve never screamed this much before. So much of you hurts. Does any of it even matter?)

It was his. It was his!

(But you can’t even say it’s name. You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you–)

A sound breaks through the chaos of noise in his head, breaks through the agony gripping his body. It breaks through like some sort of light spilling in through dark storm clouds, just before the sun comes through. 

Something, someone touches him. They grab him by the shoulders, and their hands burn – and yet they do not. Pleasant and gentle, calming and warm, but the contact makes Grian want to tear himself away. He thrashes and wriggles in their grip, yelling some unintelligible thing. It hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsiTHURTSITHURTSITHURTS!

There’s a pressure against his cheek, one that causes Grian to still entirely. His head is still aching, still leaving him heaving with dry breaths from pain. His throat hurts, jaw aching from strain. But ever so slowly does he come back to himself, and it’s all because of the weight on his cheek. He leaves his country behind, lets it truly slip past his fingers like grains of sand, as he locks gazes with gentle looking eyes. He abandons ownership of his home in order to find his place in the lightless depths before him. 

It’s Scar. 

Scar’s hand is pressing into Grian’s cheek, holding it still. 

(He’s… touching you? He’s willingly touching you?) 

The other is looking at him with gentle eyes, the edges of his lips strained in a struggling smile. His thumb brushes along Grian’s cheekbone, “There you are, G.” His voice is soft, like a soothing melody. 

(But…)

(Wait.)

There’s a trail of blood dripping down Scar’s chin. 

Eye going wide, Grian slowly drags his stare down. He finds the front of Scar’s shirt bloody and slightly torn. What he also finds… is his dagger embedded in the other’s chest, his hand on the handle. Panic shoots down his spine, and it feels like the air in his lungs is being squeezed out. He trembles, but he can’t pull his hand away, can’t remove the dagger that’s actively causing Scar to bleed. 

Scar, sweet Scar, tries to play it off, tries to smile at Grian like he isn’t dying from a stab to the heart. Like he isn’t dying at Grian’s hand. He laughs, a dribble of blood spilling over his lips, “Yeah, not m-my brightest moment, huh? Should’ve m-made sure you wouldn’t go swinging at me while f-freaking out.” 

Grian can’t look away from him, family and enemy fading away from him. He hurt Scar. 

“‘s alright though, G, I-I know you didn’t mean it.” Scar pulls his hand away from Grian’s cheek, and some disgusting part of Grian’s mind wants to cry for Scar to put it back, to touch him again. 

Yet all he can manage to respond with a stutter, “S-Scar…” 

“R-Really, it is!” Scar smiles, even as he wobbles forward. “I’d… rather it be the person I love… dealing the last blow…” He slumps over, head landing right on Grian’s shoulder, and Grian can feel the warm blood dropping on his hand. He uses his other arm to catch Scar, as if it’ll do much to help besides keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Scar..?” he slowly asks, breath speeding up as it hitches roughly. “S-Scar?” 

(You killed him.)

Did Scar… say he loved him? “Ah.” He shakes. He trembles. His breath is coming in too fast, too sharp, he can’t breathe. His hands tremor, he lets go of the dagger but it remains in Scar’s chest. Scar loved him. Scar loved him. Scar loved him and Grian killed him. 

(You hear the raw scream that sounds from your voice.)

[whatever-imagines]

Sweetheart

Rated: M, for violence, detailed-ish description of an injury, mentions of vomitting, unconsensual licking, and the allegory.

—-

The woman before was wild-looking. Her hair was long and tawny blonde, sticking up everywhere before coming down her back. Her eyes were such a dark brown, they were almost black, and you could hardly see the slit pupil. You didn’t like how familiar the brown in those eyes were. Her clothes were also strange, considering she was with a villain mutant group; black tank top and a full fur coat? What was she, a pimp?

The woman breaths in deeply, almost euphorically she smiles before her gaze settles on you again. You see her top row of fangs in her mouth.

“She smells like she’s been aaaaaalllllllllll over you…” she husky voice growls out.

“Who’s she?” You ask, voice quivering. You were not meant to be fighting, you were meant to stay on the ship but the comms went dead and you couldn’t feel Jean in your head so you left the safety of the jet in pursuit of your comrades.

In the snowy woods, you found this woman.

She laughs. Low and gruff, rumbling and gravelly. You could hear the danger in her laugh. “The pup; you’d be calling her Logan now.”

You still at the mention of your friend’s name. Logan and you had become close recently; with her constantly watching you and helping you around the mansion as you teach the various students. You do like Logan quite a bit, but that was a secret only for you to know (and possibly Jean with how snoopy she is).

“Oh?” The woman chuckles. “Struck a cord, huh? Don’t worry little thing…” the woman drawls, smiling widely, hauntingly. “She’s on her way now!”

You hear someone, impossibly distant from you, scream your name in a desperate fashion. Logan, somewhere in the woods.

“She’ll know this reminder is from me.”

“SABERTOOTH!”

And then your side erupts with pain. You didn’t even see the woman move.

Sabertooth smiles viciously down to you, eyes almost gone with how wide the slit had became. In your side, her three nails penetrate you in a white hot agony. You can’t even scream, it hurts so bad.

“Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?” She quips, inside your ribs she wiggles her fingers and you nearly vomit.

Logan, much closer now, roars your name.

You black out before she could reach you-

—-

“No serious damage done.” Jean had said.

You begged to fucking differ.

Sure, the razor sharp nails of Victoria Creed, aka Sabertooth, has left no infection and slipped between your muscles and tendons like a hot knife through butter; but damage was dealt.

You felt her inside you. You hear her vice, feel the heat of her breath when you least expect it. The wound heals and scars over and everyone you see the four bumpy lines on your side you grow nauseous.

Logan’s in the same train of thought as you.

Even after you had been officially discharged from the medical bay, Logan follows you like a dog. She checks up on you frequently, makes sure you eat, sleep, shower, not let yourself fall into a gut wrenching depression no matter how desperately you want to just to feel the relief of your sadness.

Sabertooth had fucked you up viscerally; she wasn’t just in your side, she was in your head.

It’s driving you crazy.

Without Logan around some nights, you just can’t sleep (you try to not think about how badly you miss the safety of Logan’s arms; how warm and heavy and comforting her scent is; how she doesn’t smell like Sabertooth, how most nights when she watches you sleep you feel her hot, heavy hand rub at your scars, how one night you feel the wet broad of her tongue lick your healed wound while she thought you slept-).

One night you managed to sleep; only to see phantom visions of Creed behind your eyelids, your brain fabricating awful memories of her finger-fucking your rib cage and you woke up screaming. Logan barrelled through your door, the sound of splintering wood and a full body impaction waking you from your fretful slumber. Logan stood at the foot of your bed, eyes wide and full of wrath, claws at the ready.

You hardly see her claws outside of battle, you thought idly as your throat was too sore to calm her down.

Again, that night, you fell asleep with Logan carefully holding you, her thumb brushing up against the raised skin on your side.

You wish it was Logan that defiled you. Logan you could forgive. Logan could gut you in a blind rage and you’d absolve her of her guilt readily. Instead you got her rival, a vindictive and frightening woman. You wish Logan could carve out whatever Victoria had left behind.

—-

And why not? You think, as you stare Logan down.

You’ve laid your case out, voice strained and heart heavy, about your idea.

And Logan had never looked more soft or vulnerable than the moment she rejected your proposal.

“I can’t.” She states softly, eyes almost wet. “I can’t hurt you, let alone on purpose, sweetheart, please-“

“She-“ you interrupt, angry at Creed for doing this to you and at Logan for denying you peace, “she, is in me, Logan. Floating around in my head, in my organs, and I can feel her.” You stress.

You see Logan flinch slightly and a sickening thought crosses your mind.

“Can you smell her on me?” You ask, voice raw, “Still? Even now?”

“You’re still you.” Logan hastily relays. “You still smell mostly like you, it’s fades every day-“

And once again, you’re violated by the villain. No wonder Logan’s been forcing her clothes on you, having you shower daily; she’s been trying to get the scent of her enemy off of you for weeks-

You gasp a sob. “Logan, please!”you beg. “I can’t keep doing this! I need her out of me, I need someone I trust inside me, I can’t keep letting invade my every waking thought! All I hear is her laughing!”

Logan looks at you, desperate, a rebuttal in her mouth.

“I am this close to carving her out myself-!”

“Okay! Fine! Jesus do not do it yourself!” She pleads, throwing her hands up. She huffs a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’re doing it my way, okay, safely-“

“Oh god thank you!” And you rush her into a hug, crying and clutching the taller woman for support.

Logan sighs and hugs you back, a touch tighter than her careful squeezing.

—-

There’s antiseptic and cotton balls lining your side table, along with rolls of white bandages. Logan has her claws out, letting the rubbing alcohol on them dry to disinfect them. She wasn’t kidding, despite how gruesome the request you made, she was doing it safely. Logan was prepping this like a surgery.

Eventually, she sits on the edge of your bed, and eagerly you scramble into her lap.

She looks grim, determined. “Ready? This hurt.” She warns.

You scowl. “At least you warn me.” You hiss, wiggling your hips against the woman to get closer.

Just barely, a blush flushes over Logan’s cheekbones and her eyes flash with rage before cooling back down.

Her eyes were the same color as Victoria’s, but a shade lighter in tone. It was similar, almost uncomfortably so.

Claws still out, Logan assists you in shimmying your shirt off. Once bare to her, the flat underside of her claws slide against your ribs.

Your stomach turns and your force yourself not to gasp at the intimate situation you were in.

“If you wanna squirm and scream, that’s fine.” She assures. Most of the team was gone to find Creed, you’ve been actively avoiding the task. So right now there’s hardly anyone in the teachers’ quarters beside you and your companion.

You nod in understanding, mouth dry.

Logan nods as well, face set into a neutral expression. You don’t know what would be worse for you, her enjoying this or hating it.

The tips of the claws pride you gently, before slowly pushing into you.

‘Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?’

Fucker, you think, your fingers digging into the shoulders of the woman doing this tremendous favour for you.

Logan stops, claws shallowly resting in you. You realize with a shaken heart she’s trying to stop.

“Deeper.” You demand.

“Sweetheart-“

You wiggle uncomfortably, the claws entering you a quarter-inch more, and Logan scowls.

“Please, she’s in deep.” You beg, almost sobbing from your high emotions.

Logan’s bottom lip trembles an iota and she moves her fist closer to you, her claws going in further.

You gasp when they reach where Victoria reached. “Stop.”

Immediately, the claws are out of your side, Logan is pressing a towel to your ribs and she places you on the bed.

“You’re okay.” She assures, voice and body tense. “You’re fine, you’ll be fine-“

You smile loonily.

You can’t hear Sabertooth anymore.

Logan frets over you, bandaging your side, mumbling encouragements and words of clumsy comfort. She pets your hair and gently slaps at your face when your eye lids slip close.

“Wake up, sweetheart, look at me.” She demands. “How do you feel?”

Feel? You feel relieved, you feel free. You feel adrenaline and exhaustion and arousal, your thighs rubbing together.

Logan twitches slightly and continues to dress your wound.

“Do I smell like you now?” You ponder aloud.

Logan stills slightly to look at you, face unreadable.

She responds, monosyllabic and husky.

“Yes.”