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zgvlt · 2 years ago

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each of your fingers like rays of the sun leona kingscholar x reader

summary: in which you like to hold and to be held by leona's hand, a lot (not like he's not in the same boat)

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff/romance, established relationship, 4k+ words, not beta read

author’s note (see end notes for more): The fourth fic to my five senses series

you can also read this on AO3

The day was concluding and yet the date was merely reaching its beginning, Leona rising with the setting sun.

He had slept the afternoon away, not having anything urgent to do, not when his calculations dictated he still had some absences left before it would become a real problem. As for his location, he had taken to sleeping in his room as opposed to his other favored locations—only a strategic choice, chosen based on the demands you had made of him earlier.

His choice was correct, as expected, for now there was no need to leave his room to find you and no need for you to do the same, not when you strolled into his room, as you have many times before (but not as of late, to his disdain). It was as though his becoming yours meant not only his heart but his room would become yours as well.

He would be a hypocrite to complain about such a thing, but he cared too little for becoming a good person now.

“Don’t make so much noise,” he complained half-heartedly, not bothering to pretend that he had not just woken up. He was sure you could tell anyway, your stifled laughter as you watched him yawn, your own attempts at scritching the back of his neck and ears. With his good mood, he supposed he would allow it.

“Looks like you’ve already set it up,” you said, glancing at his desk, the table turned to face his bed, and with misfortune you took to sitting on the chair than with him on the bed. “Should I play white or black?”

“White is already facing you,” and for a few other reasons he would rather not tell you, things you really had no need to know, “so you should just play that.”

“Okay,” and although you haven't started the game yet, your fingers hover over the chessmen, stopping over a particular pawn that Leona thinks you intend to move first.

“I’m surprised you even want to play chess,” Leona said, finally sitting up properly to face his side of the board, “I didn’t think you knew how to play… Do you know how to play?”

It’s nothing against you; he would have accepted your offer to play with him even if you didn’t, but it surprises him (pleasantly) that you might. Sure, he’s seen you watch him go against his dorm members, but other than that he wasn’t really sure if it was because you were interested in the game or if it was because you were interested in him.

“I watched a bunch of videos!” you said, defending yourself, “I’m not going to be a grandmaster anytime soon, but I know what the chess pieces and pawns are and what they do and, you know, enough basics to play.”

Leona grins at the distinction. Look at you, doing your research—you might actually stand a chance against him.

“Then I don’t have to go easy on you,” he replied, before adding a little lie, “not that I had any intention of doing so in the first place.”

Your opening move is standard. You don’t do something stupid or overly advanced by moving the pawns at the edges of the row, even though he would have liked to see a strategy involving either or. You go for a popular but beginner-friendly opening: the Queen’s Pawn to d4. It’s aggressive in a sense, a way to dissuade him from moving the king’s or queen’s pawn for his opening… or perhaps you wanted him to take the risk.

He looked up to meet your eyes, and he didn’t have to look any further down to know that you were smiling.

Cute, but it’s really too bad that he has no intentions of falling for your bait.

“Knight to your f6,” he mumbled, more for you to hear than himself. Leona’s not particularly chatty when playing, most people don’t have the capacity to do so when they’re too busy thinking five moves ahead, but he doesn’t want you to be too tense. If you wanted to talk about, well, anything really, you should do it. This was a date after all, impromptu it may be, not a competition.

“I wanted you to move–”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I didn’t move there,” Leona said with a drawl, watching the tips of your fingers touch each and every pawn, clearly contemplating what to move next. Usually you had to move whichever piece or pawn you touched first and with anyone else he might have used the rule to his advantage, but he instead waits for you to decide patiently.

If the consequence was having a game run slower than normal, was it really a consequence at all if it meant you stuck around a little longer?

“Pawn to… c4?”

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” Leona informed you, “but that’s a good move.”

Because it was a good move—probably your original plan anyway, if he had made the move you wanted him to. Regardless, you were able to strengthen your control of the center.

You smile at the praise and Leona tries not to smile back, distracting himself by moving a pawn to g6, right beside the knight.

Your next few moves don’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things—all he needs is to fianchetto his bishop, something you can’t really stop no matter what you do—but he does think it’s amusing that you end up mirroring his moves, clearly unsure of how to move when he’s too focused on defending than attacking you at the moment.

With two squares cleared out, he moves the rook and the king.

“I don’t think you’d cheat in chess, so what even was that?” you asked.

“Huh. Looks like you haven’t made it to the video about castling yet,” Leona quipped, but before you could complain he stood up, making his way to stand behind you. He doesn’t think he makes for a very good teacher, more of an instructor than anything, but he’ll try… only because you’re expecting him to, clearly wanting to replicate whatever it was he did.

“I’m sure you know that the most important piece in the game is the king.” With his index, he pointed to White’s king, and with his remaining fingers, he temporarily set aside the bishop to its right. “I’m sure you saw how I purposefully cleared these two squares—it’s because you need this particular rook for this.”

Without talking about it, the both of you quickly look around, not bothering to hide your sighs of relief when a chess piece named man fails to appear before your eyes.

“Because the king is the most important piece, it has to be well protected, defended. That’s where the rook comes in—a rook is basically a castle, which is what the move is called, so the king is pretty much hiding behind a bunch of walls to defend itself.

“When you make sure the king is defended throughout the game, the less chances of it falling into any traps or getting cornered… or you’ll at least have other pieces in convenient positions to attack if needed.”

“Castle to protect the king,” you muttered to yourself, sliding the two pieces together, “like this?”

“No.” Placing a hand over yours—the hand holding onto your king—he nudges the rook out of the way, effectively swapping their positions. “Like this. They don’t just move to the right and left, they have to swap as well.”

Leona hadn’t thought much of his clasping your hand—he’s not shy with giving you the physical attention you want—but your words thereafter do affect him, a fluster that takes him a little longer than usual to push down.

“I get it now! Thanks to you, my king definitely won’t fall too fast now,” and then, for extra measure, you let out a laugh. It’s hyena-like and Leona wonders if he’s left you alone with Ruggie one too many times, if his assistant’s been telling you one too many things.

He lets go of your hand with a click of his tongue, returning your pieces to their old positions. Here he is, teaching you how to play better so you could increase your chances of winning against him, but here you are making a joke out of him.

Still, he huffs in amusement when you move the bishop, then the rook, and then the pads of your fingers meet the king once again.

Sometimes Leona thinks he indulges you a bit too much—well, it’s less think and more know, but since he can’t be any more self-aware than he already is, he mostly just lets you do as you please.

That was how it was before you started dating, after all—him hardly reciprocating your actions, teasing retorts at most as his heart banged against his chest and hurt his ears. You and all your neon signs pointing that yes, you were attracted to him, and him finally having enough of you embarrassing yourself (and him), leading to him deciding that if you were going to keep that up without saying anything, then you wouldn’t have any objections if he asked you out himself. He remembers more than just your happiness—he remembers the pride you could barely contain at having him do the asking, as if it was an achievement.

Still, you can’t just expect to get away with everything. You should’ve recognized the inevitability of him biting back; he would argue that you preferred when he did. It wasn’t just that you thought it was fun when he did do so, the lazy lion getting up to do something, but more so you liked the idea that he could actually take initiative to do something for himself as opposed to simply having it handed to him.

These days, it’s you making yourself into his personal alarm clock.

Leona’s quit skipping every class he could. He’s not against graduating, believe it or not, and it definitely helps that he genuinely wants to see the Afterglow Savannah improve and that taking up an internship is a prime opportunity to start getting work done. It also helps that he has someone (sometwo if you count Ruggie, but he’s not very effective so he chooses not to) constantly pushing him to attend his classes.

Still, he’d prefer to not go to each and every one. Some classes, in his opinion, are just downright repetitive, if not pointless, things he already knows being taught to him again. Skipping those seemed valid to him, but it seemed it was not to you.

“Come on, kitty,” you kept his hand in a tight grip, dragging him along the hallway. It was empty considering everybody was already in class, and while it would have embarrassed most people, Leona was just glad nobody would be present to eavesdrop. “You’re late to class.”

“We’re late to class,” Leona countered, “did you forget that you have class, too? On an entirely different building?”

“Okay, whose fault is that?” you huffed, “You’re the one who kept me asleep!”

“But you were sleeping so soundly, weren’t you? What kind of guy would I be if I were to wake my partner up?”

“You would be a gentleman who saved my attendance record, that’s what. Professor Crewel is gonna kill me one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, “or Professor Trein, or maybe even the headmaster himself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said with a shred of a laugh, “it’s not like they don’t know I’m to blame.”

You stopped in your tracks to look at him.

“No way is our relationship so widespread that the faculty knows about it.”

“Even my family knows, so obviously the faculty does, too. Just because they’re adults doesn’t mean they’re above gossiping,” Leona said, grumbling as though sorely disappointed with the older generation, “not even Trein. He’s a history professor, which means he’s just better at separating fact from fiction.”

“And the facts are?”

Leona snorted, lifting your enclosed hands and waving them around. “The facts are clear as day. I wouldn’t just be allowing you to hold my hand willy-nilly like this if there wasn’t anything between us, much less allow myself to be dragged to class like this when I could be taking a perfectly good nap.”

“Go take a nap in class, then,” you retorted, “the important thing is that you attend, not that you pay attention.”

“Huh, wonder who taught you to be such a bad influence?” he asked, trailing off the end of his rhetorical question with yawn. “Well, if you’re gonna be a bad influence, what’s stopping you from going all the way with it?”

“What are you planning?”

“I was just thinking that I felt bad for always making you late to your classes,” he drawled. His classroom was a few steps away, but with you having relinquished most of the pressure on his hand, he decided it was his turn to take control of which path to take; that path was away from the main building and heading towards one of his favorite areas on campus—the botanical gardens. “Not only should I bring you there, but I should apologize to Professor Crewel for taking up so much of a precious student’s time.”

“Do you have a death wish? My classmates will never let me hear the end of it!” you whined, “If you want to sleep in the greenhouse, you should have just said so. Don’t drag me into it.”

You could protest a little more if you wanted, make him stop his tracks and leave you to walk back on your own, but you simply complained about how unfair he was being. Leona thinks it has to do with his hands—well, hand—still intertwined with yours, the fact that he’s the one doing the holding this time around. Perhaps you’re letting it happen so you can spend a little more time with him. He’s the same, after all, the reason he’s awake and doing this much.

“Then let’s take a nap in the greenhouse next time. That way, you’ll be able to wake up for your class in time. You’ll even have the professor serve as your alarm clock,” he chuckled, even as you threatened to leave him behind. He knows you won’t, because your grip is just as tight despite it, only loosening—with hesitance, a fact that makes his heart swell just the smallest bit—when no more detours can be done.

“I’ll see you later.”

Leona shook his head.

“No, I’ll pick you up.”

Leona’s never seen himself as a particularly domestic partner, but you smile at him and he thinks he might have to do this walking you to class thing more often. He can lose a few minutes of sleep for that.

III

“I learned something recently,” you began, “about palm reading, and finger lengths, and all of that. From Cater.”

“Yeah?” Leona asked, indulging you. “Show me.”

He knew where this was going, having recognized a pattern in your behavior as of late. He was not opposed to it—he’s an enabler of most of your antics, admittedly—but he does want to see what kind of tactic you’d initiate this time.

“Apparently our hands hold meanings too.” He’s still resting his head on your lap without any intention of leaving, but he adjusted his arms so you could take hold of his hands more easily. “I don’t know if I believe it entirely, but considering we use them so often throughout our life, I guess it makes sense… Also, it just seemed fun to learn about.”

One of your fingers went to trace the sides of his, moving along the tips and gaps in between. “For example, if your index finger is longer than your ring finger, you’re probably a confident, natural leader. Someone calculative and analytical. A risk taker, someone who prefers others to take the initiative but happily takes the spoils, and–”

“Are you sure you talked to Cater and you’re not just making this up?” he accused half-heartedly, “Maybe you’re cherry-picking things you’ll think suit me.”

“–and someone who likes their solitude, dislikes it when their time alone is disturbed.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t fit me after all,” claimed Leona, “I allow you to interrupt my alone time all the time.”

“Hello? Like you don’t enjoy my presence. I’m joining it, not interrupting it,” you argued back, “in any case, let’s say the ring is the longer one of the two.”

Your finger stilled against the aforementioned finger, before tracing an imaginary ring around the digit.

“It’s said that people with longer ring fingers are seen as more… ugh,” you sighed, as though reluctant to admit something, “ , they’re more attractive.”

“Oh?” He grinned, looking away from your hands to stare right at your face. You wouldn’t look at him properly, so he tugged at your fingers to catch your attention. “So I’m attractive? More attractive than most people you’ve seen?”

“Charming too, clearly,” you sighed as you rolled your eyes, though Leona noticed that it was not exactly a no, “which is another trait of people with longer ring fingers… I guess both descriptions work out for you, so it doesn’t actually matter which one has a few extra centimeters.”

“What about the palm lines then?” he asked, “Fortune telling isn’t really my style, the idea of placing all my bets on some kind of fate ain’t really all that appealing to me, but I’ll hear you out.”

“Oh, um…” You grasp a hand, and then two, and just… stare at them, following the lines with your fingertips. “I already forgot.”

“Heh, you forgot? Really, if you wanted to hold my hand that bad you could just ask, it’s not like I’d ever say no to you,” Leona teased, baring his teeth as he grinned. “Have I ever said no to you?”

“No?” you answered, “I mean, that’s not why…! Okay, I really did want to try reading your palms, but Cater and I only talked for maybe twenty minutes max? I only remember, like, the heart line.”

“Then read that. What’s the issue?”

You went silent, suddenly shutting your mouth. If it was anyone else, Leona would have thought they were embarrassed—it was something to do with romance after all and, well, that was a topic that flustered many. However, because it was you, it was difficult to say it was because you would feel embarrassment—you do lots of embarrassing things around him, after all. The truth behind your hesitation was…

“Well,” you began, fingers pointing to the long line stretched across his hand, “this is your love line. Based on the length, it would mean… Leona?”

You trailed off as Leona shut his palm, trapping your finger within the warmth of his hand.

“I don’t need to hear it after all. I already know the answer, anyway.”

Leona thinks (knows) he spoils you, but he thinks you spoil him just as much, to the point that he finds himself wondering if his existence is enough to warrant such treatment. After all, days like today he knows he hasn’t done anything particularly nice or special, and yet it feels as though he has with the way you hold onto him (or the way he allows himself to be held instead of holding).

“Give me your hand.” These days you don’t ask (though you still play tricks to retrieve your treat). What you do more often is demand, demand in the way royals like him do, because you know you can do so with him by your side, with him.

“Going to read my palms again?” he joked, already handing his hands over as an offering.

“Maybe some other time,” you said, “I was just thinking… your hands are kind of rough, aren’t they?”

“If I were a typical prince, I would’ve been offended,” he commented. Sure, he kept himself groomed—he’s still a part of a royal family, lowly a member as he is, so personality aside he’d rather not have people point out anything off with his looks too—but things such as keeping his hands moisturized just weren’t in his list of priorities.

“I don’t mind it like this.” He hadn’t asked, but he did wonder. Perhaps you knew that. “I wouldn’t have minded one way or the other, but I do like the roughness. It… suits you, I guess?”

Leona laughed, “Because I’m not a gentle person, huh?”

“Because it shows me that you’re someone who’s always worked hard,” you explained, “no matter what anyone says, I think this much is proof that the person you are now isn’t just because you were lucky to be born like that. Lazy and effort-averse as you may be at times, things like this prove that you, too, worked hard to achieve the strength and intelligence you have.”

He really doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve the way you treat him, and it’s on days like today that he remembers what he loves most about you. It’s not just that you’re fun, that you’re amusing, that you’re cute—it’s because you are one of the few who can see past his pride and his arrogance, his imperious attitude; it’s because you care for him so easily in the ways he finds himself too prideful to imitate, fumbling the words spoken by his heart.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, terribly enamored of the way you bring your lips up to the knuckles of his fist. Those hands are not clean, have been used in fights for better or for worse, hands capable of destruction with some few choice chants, yet you kiss them as though they were innocent. “Seriously.”

“Of course, my prince.” You laughed even as his fingers stretched to cover your mouth, and like the sun peeking from the clouds your grin remained present and bright.

“Just two moves…” you muttered to yourself, “I can’t believe I fell for that! Or, you know, did that, since it was my fault. I literally read about this pattern on some chess website.”

“That’s what you get for experimenting without care,” Leona said, shaking his head as he returned the pawns and queen back to their positions. “Never thought I’d see someone use f3 as a first move, easily the worst opening you could do, followed by g4 which is the worst follow-up you could do. Guess there’s really a first time for everything—I finally got to play a Fool’s Mate against someone for once.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you had your fun,” you grumbled. Malice wasn’t present, but he could tell you did want to win at least one match this time around. Maybe he would help out with that, though not without seeing what you could do, first.

“Then try some other opening or pattern,” he told you, “looks like you actually know more this time around.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want to look foo–okay, never mind.” You grabbed hold of a pawn, twirling it around between your fingers. “Let’s go again.”

“Think you’re going to win this time?” he asked. It had come off as a tease, a way to rile you up, but the reality was that he was genuinely curious if you had a strategy you wanted to try and pull off.

“Maybe. Just indulge me this time, okay?”

Then you move the pawn in front of the king two squares forward. King’s Pawn Opening. Not bad, especially since you could control the center if you choose your moves right. It’s the next move, however, the one you pull right after he mirrored yours, that caused your plan to immediately click in his brain.

“Bishop to c4. You think you’re funny, do you?”

“Are you going to go along with it?

“I’ll show you.” Which, for Leona, was another way of saying of course. You were you, and with a message so charming, who was he to deny you, the both of you, of fun? “Knight to c6. Truly a first time for everything—never would I have thought I’d lose a game on purpose.”

“Queen to h5.”

“Knight to f6.”

“Queen to f7.” You grinned gleefully. He supposed losing was worth it after all. “Scholar’s mate.”

end notes | masterlist of all my works | series masterlist my other leona fics [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

[1] Title. The title can be in both Leona and the reader's perspective. If you liken Leona to the sun, then wouldn’t his fingers be the rays of warmth? And for Leona, since he comes from Afterglow Savannah, I think it means a lot for him to compare the reader to the sun, and though he’s already used to the warmth, he finds himself craving the one coming from the reader.

[2] Pieces vs Pawns. Many people do use “pieces” (or some other term in their respective language) as a catch-all term, but really pawns and pieces are different, with chessmen being the appropriate term for both pawns and pieces (in English, from my sourcs). Since reader makes the distinction, it shows Leona that they made the effort to research his favorite game. He would have appreciated the gesture of playing with him nonetheless, but that was a plus to him.

[3] Opening moves. Reader wanted to do the Queen’s Gambit, since it’s a popular and well-known opening. It’s also a move with a monarch in the title. Chosen not necessarily to represent the reader (see a different note for that), but you could see it that way if you want. They could not push through because Leona saw through them. Anyway, Queen’s gambit is White to d4, and afterwards c4, and while they did that they couldn’t complete a gambit because Leona went to move the knight instead of trying to control the center immediately.

[4] Leona’s opening move is called King’s Indian Defense, a response against the Queen’s gambit… and my personal favorite opening when I had the misfortune of playing Black (a.k.a. going second) in matches. Also chosen for the monarch in the move name. When White goes d4, the knight (horse) goes f6. At White’s c4, pawn moves to g6.

[5] Yes most of these notes will be about chess I’m sorry! Okay so a few other choices I made in writing the chess scenes. Reader, both times, plays white (goes first), for a multitude of reasons—Leona putting them first, them being the light of his life, Leona wanting to give them the advantage, all of that. Leona goes second because, yeah… the second-born, second-place thing, but also he willingly chooses it for the challenge, because it makes it more fun for him, and because he enjoys just watching you go first and reacting to the things you do. It’s less of Leona going easy on you and more of him trying to see what you know and how well you can predict moves so he can teach you appropriately later on.

[6] Castling. As Leona explained, Castling is a move in chess specifically to protect the king. Also slight humpty dumpty reference. It was believed that he was based on a king (and he’s commonly depicted as an egg-king in media), and when he sat on the wall he had a great fall… so basically whatever “castling” Leona did against reader was a failure because he fell for the reader, lol.

[7] I actually don’t know what finger is longer for Leona.

[8] Ending moves. Scholar’s mate was chosen… For obvious reasons. He lets the reader win because he thinks it's cute that they chose that move from their “research” HAHAHA.

#twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland #nathya twst writing #twst leona x reader #twst imgines

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oulkheir · 1 year ago

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Why given among all other romances

In most romcom/ romance mangas, the feelings described are what makes us like the work. But in given, I love how Kizu is showing us that loving each other clearly is not enough. Akihiko and Haruki like each other at the same time, yet their lack of communication lead them to have a big misunderstanding and a sexual tension. If they had had communicated better (and if akihiko wasn't basically drunk and was more aware of what he was doing of course) that wouldn't have happened. The story isn't exactly focusing on why people fall in love with a certain person, nor how do they confess. It focuses on the feelings after realising you are in love and how you deal with the person who also has romantic feelings for you. They can confess, they can go out. But even when you love someone back, you may not have the same idea of a relationship as them. As for Ugetsu and Akihiko, they deeply loved each other and they quickly started dating when they figured they were feeling the same thing. But they missed the opportunity to express clearly what they were looking from each other, in a relationship. That lead them to break up because of Ugetsu's hard love for music.

Love according to Kizu

This is typically what I love in given. They do have the basic musts of a couple that we already know. Kizu doesn't need such a process to show how people fall in love and I believe there's no reason to fall in love irl. You don't love someone because they helped you doing something, they impressed you, they are beautiful... You just love someone for who they are. No one can explain that objectively. That's what I (partly) learnt from given. Kizu just says "see, those two are in love. how are they going to deal with that? are they compatible? will this love help them to become better people?" And she shows us different situations, depending on the personality and on the context of the characters' love for each other.

Shizu and Hiiragi (my favs aaaah)

For example, Shizu and Hiiragi weren't picturing love the same way at all. While Hiiragi had an innocent vision of love with "holding hands" and hanging out together (he literally read too much cute shojo manga), Shizu was dealing with his sexual attraction for him, restricting himself so Hiiragi could enjoy their times together. Though, while restricting so much without saying it properly to Hiiragi who clearly is an egocentric and who thinks everyone thinks the way he does (i love him i swear he's my fav), Shizu got angry and even thought that Hiiragi was in love with Yuki. Hiiragi and Shizu both love each other from the start but this lack of communication and those different ways to see love makes it so much more difficult to just confess and date out of the blue.

Don't get me wrong, I love the process of two characters falling in love like in Kaguya-sama wa kokurasetai, or Fruits Basket but I think that being aware of the other's love for us isn't enough to start dating. Establishing the rules and clear up the misunderstandings before starting to date is important and very interesting to read in a manga.

that's all I don't know how to conclude haha bye <3

#given #given manga #given movie #kaguya love is war #akiharu #shizusumi yagi #hiiragi kashima #given anime #akihiko kaji #haruki nakayama #duamin rants about given #i can't believe i wrote this #english isn't my first language

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harleyxhoward · 6 months ago

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The Umbrella Academy S4 (thoughts & opinions)

- HOT TAKE: The issue I had with Five and Lila getting together wasn’t the bizarre age gap or insensitivity of Five sleeping with his brother’s wife, but how they don’t resolve the tension properly before they all cease to exist. Specifically Diego and Five don’t get to hold hands the way Lila and Five did, even though it wasn’t really up to Lila to “forgive” Five, but whatever. I thought that had this affair been treated with an ounce of consideration it would reveal a lot more about both characters shared desperation for affection and emotional stimulation. Five spent decades in complete social isolation to the point where he legitimately fell in love with a mannequin and you want me to believe that, given the similar scenario that most certainly triggered the same “well I guess I’m stuck in this shit now for an indefinite amount of time” area of his brain, he wouldn’t have resorted to falling in love with the fist available person regardless of what it meant outside of the subway? Lila too seemed to get with Diego because while they did click in S2, she had never lived a life that allowed her to experience romance or starting a family like she could with Diego. She pumped out three kids to seemingly force herself to enjoy what she knows could be taken away from her at the throwing of a time traveling briefcase, but her behavior this season is baffling because what do you mean after seven years of searching for a way home she never once brings up missing those three children until the opportunity to return home presents itself? She tries to wipe her hands of the situation, but then the show just kind of ends without meaningful conclusion, so…

- The ending was sloppy. I know you know that, but my issue wasn’t the actual end. The Hargreeves having to sacrifice themselves in a way indicative of the S1 finale makes perfect sense, especially with the painfully shallow Five Diner down in that unexplained subway station where they all indirectly allude to the fact that there’s never a condition where at least one of the family doesn’t end the world. Had the Fives took time to explain that each Hargreeve possesses earth shattering abilities that eventually snowball out of control regardless of the condition, and all resistance is futile, I would accept that the ending makes more sense than just blaming the marigold despite the fact that Victor can/has been able to syphon marigold out of people, and could’ve just taken it all himself but you know, whatever.

- I also deeply resent that a show about familial trauma and bonding despite the shared adversity ultimately concluded on everyone giving up. No. You don’t get to say that they “didn’t just give up” because yes, them saying “oh no, well, there’s ten minutes left of the episode, guess we should cease to exist now” is the definition of not even trying to venture down into the subway as a family and fix the other timelines one at a time, using their newfound familial unity to solve every timeline until they converge into one. I’m not saying that needed to happen at all, or that they should have succeeded even if they tried, but AT LEAST THEN THEY WOULD HAVE TRIED. The writers gave up, the characters gave up, and the metaphor of grief and family issues the show spent so long to cultivate were just abandoned.

- Klaus regressed with no substantial reason or impact other than to provide slapstick humor and comedic relief antics that didn’t amount to any of what he had spent the last few seasons building and working towards. Ben shouldn’t have been brought back after his noble and meaningful sacrifice of S2 only to be made into the most obnoxious version of himself. Allison didn’t even get to say “I heard a rumor” this season nor did she address attempting to sexually assault Luther, and Diego’s relationship with Lila was the absolute worst case scenario for both characters. Viktor was the only one with an arc worth watching this season, which is why I thought him having a solo sacrifice would have been even more gut wrenching but whatever.

- There is an insurmountable amount of plot holes that prove this show just got lazy. There should be a kugelblitz in the finale’s timeline. If Lila/Allison were never born then there could never be Grace/Lila’s children. You don’t get to say “well what about the subway” because that doesn’t protect them from the grandfather paradox, unless outright stated which the writers didn’t even bother to do.

- Why didn’t they just kill Jennifer? Who put her in the squid? If it was Reggie’s wife then why didn’t she just kill her? Why didn’t Reggie kill her when he built the town to “protect” her? Why did she react with pure terror when shown the squid? How did Jean and Gene get their hands on it? Was it a normal giant squid or an alien? Was it her mother? No, because then how did she speak English when she emerged from its stomach? Why did she say “the cleanse” like she knew what it meant when she didn’t? Ben should’ve been able to remember in the OG timeline how he died because absolutely every other spirit does and the show can’t just rewrite its own lore to cater to a last minute subplot that went nowhere. I don’t want to be mean but Jennifer never should have existed as a S4 add in because she did absolutely nothing for the plot other than confusing the audience with the persistent question of why didn’t they just kill her to prevent the cleanse from happening. Reginald said one of them had to die, but in the OG timeline he killed both just to be…cruel? What’s the point of writing that it just had to be one of them if you’re just going to act like it’s a package deal? This entire plot line made me truly believe this season was written by AI, I’m sorry.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 4 #rant

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frigid-moon-fall · 3 months ago

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An expansion of something I posted to the oneshot/imagine collection, now with rants about mechanics. It deserves to escape containment since there's nothing really shippy about it.

Heeere's my plan for a Leon-survives route in a hypothetical second remake of Tales of Destiny. Includes spoilers for Symphonia.

Get the Symphonia spoilers out of the way first, since they're my justification for why a Leon-survives route 100% deserves and 99% needs to exist.

Symphonia has an affection system. Depending on who likes you most by near the end of the game, you get to pick 1 of 3 character routes. The only meaningful change aside from bonus scenes, for 7 out of 8 of them, is who accompanies Lloyd on his journey to collect all of the world's exspheres after the game has concluded. For the 8th, the change is Zelos fucking dies.

When asked who the canon choice was, devs responded "whoever you ended up with!" except that's also blatantly untrue since all material that takes place after the game had to make a choice. I haven't seen all the supplemental material for Symphonia, but I'm pretty sure none of them stuck with Zelos dying. ...Except Abyss, of all things, but I like to think that one line of dialogue was a salty dev who didn't like that Zelos's death was changed to not being the default. So a route exists where a major character dies, and it is not canon.

We are absolutely allowed to have a route where the major character who usually dies does not die. It does not have to be canon, it does not have to be reflected in any other material. (Except for a hypothetical Abyss remake where a random replica NPC needs to mutter "...Leon lived..." so we can come full circle) But it deserves to exist!!

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So!! The way I'd do it. We get that affection system or something like it. In a perfect world, there'd be affection points for every party member (I'm not saying they all need to be romanceable, but it'd be nice), but it'd be fine if it's literally just meant for Leon's survival. I think it also makes sense if it's just Leon because that would imply Stahn would be good enough friends with everyone else regardless of any of his possible choices. He's just that kind of guy.

Because he's just that kind of guy, I'd want to limit the use of dialogue options and instead focus on missable sub events. Basically just making more room for them to interact, because I feel like making it dialogue-choice-based would imply that Leon's death is a direct result of Stahn saying the wrong thing, which would only be good if the writers were interested in exploring it properly with a truckload of guilt. Anyway, maybe even get in-battle stuff involved if you want to make the route even more difficult to obtain; if you let Leon reach 0 HP even once, you're locked out.

Depending on how much you've managed to win Leon over, you get 4 outcomes! 1) Lowest end, where you actively make him dislike you, would ditch the sacrifice angle and play out a little more like the PS1 version. 2) If you just didn't do enough, still no sacrifice, but obviously more reluctant to fight. But it still happens. 3) If you put in the effort to make him like you, you get the PS2 version's sacrifice. 4) If you MAX HIM OUT, by which I mean you get every single point possible—I mean make it IMpossible to stumble into this ending on accident, like maybe even lock it behind NG+: You have to have cleared Stahn's side, AND Leon's side to unlock this. (Yes, I think it's important we also have a Leon's Side for this hypothetical second remake, because for one, his side in DC was a giant waste of potential even if you like the changes to his backstory. For two, if they do actually revert those changes, it would possibly be the most interesting thing ever.)

Anyway. If you're on the right path, you will know way before shit hits the fan. I got a whole new section of the game thought out.

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Stahn goes home to Lilith. Lilith convinces him to stay, as normal. If up to this point you've done everything right for Leon, Stahn gets super restless after like a week and needs to go back out there. But he can't just leave Lilith when she was so upset by his absence. So he does the obvious thing: He takes her with him to show her the world. This would also give the player a party member to make this section of the game easier since the goal is to see the whole world like Stahn had planned to do. And, maybe your actions during this segment can also be a new way to recruit Lilith instead of the arena, if the writers feel like making her an actual party member (I wouldn't want this if they're just going to do the same thing to her as in the PS2 version where she's not really there…)

It's a (deceptively) leisurely trek across the world that seems to be at peace. No pressure of a task to be done. The obvious correct thing to do is visit all Stahn's friends and introduce Lilith to them, so she can see how much he's impacted other peoples' lives, how much he cares about all these people, how much good he's been able to do even without an official title, and how much he THRIVES out here. And she can't in good conscience keep his wings clipped.

But, this section is also actually a delicate balance of where you visit in what order, because Leon's all over the place doing whatever work he's been sent on. He's a busy boy. And you'd have to remember where he went in what order and remember his downtime from having played his side, or else you'd miss out on meeting him. And that's the final requisite. You have to meet up with him at every single opportunity. (I'm not saying you meet him in every single town in the world like a stalker, just that you meet him in every town he actually went to. So like, your 1st and 2nd stops could be any town, 3rd stop has to be X town, 5th stop has to be Y town. It just gets tricky because of no repeats.) You'll know you're locked in when the last time you meet with him, Stahn mentions Darilsheid is the last place they haven't been, and Leon quietly suggests they travel there together since he's on his way back there anyway.

Depending on the backstory this new remake has decided on (that is, if Leon has been a pawn from the beginning, or if he has no idea what Hugo's doing), this scene can be either just Leon being tsun again like "we might as well, it's just convenient, I don't specifically want to travel with you" or actually hiding a grave and desperate undercurrent. Because if he's been a pawn, this is where he's seeing a way out.

Either way, on the way back to Darilsheid, they talk about the whole knight thing and Stahn hesitates since he hasn't spoken with Lilith yet about what they'll do when they're done with this trip. Lilith answers for him, asking just how much more of the world there could possibly be to see until he's ready. He's got her blessing, and he's happy. And she can even see some excitement and relief in Leon. She goes home alone, or maybe she stays if she's a proper party member from here on.

So this puts Stahn in Darilsheid when shit goes down.

Then there's two ways it plays out, depending on which of Leon's backstories this hypothetical remake decided to take.

If PS2 backstory, Leon steals Dymlos instead of the Draconis and goes to Stahn for help since he's right there. Dymlos is the voice of reason and tells them they need to give up ground for now, because there's nothing they can do as just the two of them if Leon was bested so easily. They will get themselves killed pointlessly. So Leon plays along with the plan until they meet up in Libra IV, where he rejoins without a fight. No fight means no delay, so they're ahead of the explosion. They all get out together. Stahn, Leon, Dymlos and Chaltier get an added sense of guilt when the aethersphere begins construction, since their only plan of action led to this still being possible. From there, Leon lays low so Mictlan thinks he died (hmhmhm maybe he dons the mask early), so that Mictlan doesn't have a reason to hurt Marian.

If PS1 backstory, Stahn would have noticed Leon growing more and more tense each time they met up (since the start of the plan is drawing closer). I'm kind of split on whether Stahn should need to confront him about it to get the truth from him, or if Leon should volunteer it and ask for help without any additional prompting. Either way, Stahn's all for helping. (Just copypaste the rest of the PS2 outline here instead if you can't handle some extra contrivance, but otherwise,) Security on Marian would probably be pretty lax or even nonexistent in this case since, at least in Proust's continuity, Mictlan was always willing to let Leon take Marian and run, he just made sure Leon knew he was able to find and kill her no matter where they escaped to. So they'd be able to grab Marian ahead of time and shuffle her off to Johnny in Aquaveil for protection or something. If they go after her there, it becomes a political problem. Even if Mictlan could probably take out an entire country's army, it still might be more trouble than it's worth to navigate a country on high alert. ("Why didn't Leon just do that to begin with?" He wasn't personally friends with foreign royalty before, and Woodrow and Johnny are among the characters he's spoken to the least, so why would he immediately trust them with her? Plus this is right when the plan is about in motion, and the entire protagonist team and maybe some armies are now after them. They have more than just Leon to deal with.) This also keeps Johnny relevant instead of him basically vanishing from the collective consciousness until the end of the game. No need for Leon to even pretend to betray Stahn in this case. Everyone is able to mobilize against Mictlan earlier with all the information from Leon. (But of course, it doesn't really help. I doubt Mictlan's plan hinged entirely on Leon's cooperation, so they'd probably be able to steal the eye and some transport themselves right after they realize they lost their easy mode ticket.)

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So there you go. Leon survives route. Forces some mad replay value into the game, works with what we've already got, and can even be tailored to either backstory.

My only beef with this is that it kind of takes away any chance Rutee could have had to also have sway over Leon's decision. I want her to be important to this. But she makes it so difficult. She explicitly told Stahn not visit her, and I think he'd honor that wish during his journey here. Heck, even when they need her for tracking down and figuring out wtf is up with Leon stealing a jet and nuke, they're reluctant to bother her and consider going without her so she can just live her life. So when nothing bad seems to be going on, I think they'd leave her be. You'd still visit Cresta, because you have to see the world and Cresta is part of the world, but Stahn would be on the lookout to avoid Rutee.

The only way I can think of to work her into this is by stretching this route's prerequisites into Leon's Side. You basically just miss her in Cresta in Leon's Side in DC, so in this, I would change it to make her difficult to find. But you have to find and talk to her as Leon in Leon's Side before he leaves for Darilsheid. They'd have some serious talk that has him really longing to have been her family, and if PS1 backstory, shaking his resolve to continue with Mictlan's plan. And then on Stahn's Side, if you've been doing all the right things, you run into Leon after he's parted ways with Rutee.

#tales of destiny #leon magnus #lion magnus #frimofa #frimofa thinking #also they retconned an entire twink and the romance subplot between woodrow and mary i think we're allowed to have this #gosh i still don't know what goes down in TOD2 so like maybe all of this is pointless to think about

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ellieellieoxenfree · 7 months ago

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52 weeks, 52 movies: may

more catchup. watched some great stuff this month and some real fucking garbage.

a radiant girl (france) — 19-year-old irène (rebecca marder), a jewish girl, dreams of being an actress in 1942 france, blissfuly unaware of the horrors breathing down her neck.

okay, i know what this movie is going for. i get it. i know what point they’re trying to make, juxtaposing irène’s carefree joys against the encroaching nazi regime. except the nazis barely even register in this movie (until the very end), and the vague hints that occasionally pop up throughout don’t really register. there are mentions of surrendering radios and bicycles, and a few of irène’s classmates disappear, but she’s so self-absorbed and shallow that none of these things register to her on any level. she comes off as less a head-in-the-sand dreamer and more of a willfully obtuse ignoramus.

nor is she a particularly interesting character, nor is her story particularly interesting. she wants to be an actress. she flirts with boys. she has a weird quasi-incest moment with her brother that gave me the actual creeps. it’s all very pedestrian and dull and i could only stomach so many scenes of her giggling with her friends about acting or hatching schemes to get the cute optometrist to notice her. (she concocts an entire plan to get glasses she doesn’t need to get his attention. it is dreadfully boring.) by the time we got to an admittedly chilling ending — her boisterous singing in a cafe catches the eye of a nazi soldier, who cruises over to her with shark-like focus, right before the screen goes black — i was long past the point of giving the remotest fuck about her. she’s as shallow as a puddle two days after rain. she’s unable to conceptualize of the world or people around her, so watching her got very, very tiresome very very quickly. at no point does she put deeper thought into the things that are happening around her. her jewish faith feels equally like an afterthought and barely shows up in the movie. the only thing that seems to matter is having her flit around like an empty-headed simpleton declaiming monologues in pursuance of her dream. even the classmates around her don’t register as people. irène’s entire world is irène and everyone exists to orbit her.

this was absolutely one i finished because it was for the challenge. i cannot recommend anyone do the same, regardless of the reason.

girl picture (finland) —three young women (aamu milonoff, eleonoora kauhanen, and linnea leino) navigate adolescent dreams and hardships over a handful of weekends.

oh, girl picture. oh, you. i wanted to like this more, and there were parts i liked. but the longer i sat with it the less settled about it i felt, and ultimately i concluded that it didn’t work for me. ultimately, it seemed unwilling to fully commit to following the story all the way through, so none of the storylines quite ever satisfied properly. they didn’t quite feel like i was voyeuristically dropping in and seeing a snapshot of a life, either; things artificially ended or resolved so abruptly that i felt a bit of whiplash.

for example, two protagonists, mimmi and emma, fall in love. there are tantalizing plot threads here with both characters; mimmi has clearly unresolved family issues, feeling out of place, replaced, and abandoned by her biological family, while emma is a figure skater struggling with the demands of competitive athleticism. their romance is so whirlwind as to be headache-inducing — this might be the fastest quasi-enemies-to-lovers speed run ever — but its ending is what truly sours it. mimmi, who wrestles with emotional honesty, becomes a relationship saboteur and throws the relationship in emma’s face, then grinds their affection into the dirt by ostentatiously going off with someone else at a party in front of her. they resolve this, but it’s less ‘resolving’ and more ‘emma is a doormat who just apparently takes her back and there’s no communication about it.’ it felt, quite frankly, rather unsettling and more than a little gross. i suppose a scene prior to their resolution, where mimmi tearfully calls her absent mother and has a bit of a cry with her, is meant to be shorthand for her growth, but it feels utterly inauthentic. we, as viewers, have no reason to believe in mimmi’s change of heart. emma just comes off as a weak-willed fool.

separately, their arcs could have been interesting. emma’s heart isn’t in skating; mimmi’s relationship issues clearly come from the parental abandonment she feels. but the film doesn’t dig into that in any meaningful way, or doesn’t dig enough, so it lacks a ton of the power it could have.

similarly, rönkkö, the third member of the trio, has intriguing notes to her characterization that both don’t add up and don’t bear fruit. she seeks sexual pleasure, which manifests as a series of ineptly fumbling encounters with teenage boys little more than moronic brutes, but the storyline doesn’t ever really seem to land in a satisfying way. i’ve read that she ultimately settles on asexuality, but everything is vaguely and hazily defined and the word never gets brought up. (it doesn’t necessarily need to be, although asexuality is still so underrepresented in media that the film’s unwillingness to commit to this story beat alongside the others gets more and more frustrating.)

the actors are capable, and some of the landscapes are simultaneously beautiful and hideous in their winter frigidity. but the longer i went on, the more i asked myself, what are you trying to say? and found the answer was nothing at all.

sapphire (uk) — when a young woman (yvonne buckingham) is found murdered, a number of secrets spill over and shake loose the casual racism and bigotry of the predominantly white community around her.

this was a tidy little treat of a movie from basil dearden, who, as criterion tells me, was known for his kitchen-sink realism. (two years after sapphire, he’d make britain’s first sympathetic film about homosexuality.) this packed a LOT into a short package — while i generally spoil a lot of the plot points in my movie reviews, i think this one’s worth discovering all the secrets on an actual viewing, other than to say that this tackled race relations head-on. it’s incredibly progressive and daring for 1959, covering a lot of topics that the american production code would have had a stroke over. most shockingly, the murdered woman isn’t demonized, despite what i will delicately term indiscreet behavior. it’s nice to see something from the 50s that’s more openly unvarnished; it’s not that the behaviors didn’t happen, but censorship shut down their mere mention in popular culture, so this is an incredibly interesting time capsule. obviously, there’s no shortage of more modern stories about scandals of the period, but this has the immediacy of current values and beliefs uncolored by future ways of thinking.

it was also particularly interesting to see depictions of black culture in 1950s london. i recently watched small axe, which was a modern take on many of those cultural landmarks and touchstones, so it was interesting to contrast what steve mcqueen was doing in his depictions versus what dearden did in his. (dearden was a white man, so did not have the intimate knowledge of the community, and some black critics have commented negatively on his depiction of race relations. as a white woman, i certainly am not qualified to speak over them, but i do applaud what dearden was doing within the context of the time period. for its era, it’s progressive. by modern standards, it may not be as progressive or speak to things as skillfully and thoughtfully as mcqueen could do in small axe, but for my money, it was still an incredibly bold feat of filmmaking. engrossing and highly recommended.

baby assassins (japan) — two high school girls (takaishi akari and izawa saori) who moonlight as assassins face personal crises when their bosses order them to share a living space.

i’m waffling about this one. (this was not intended originally to be a joke, but could be construed as one for other viewers of this movie.) the concept is great, as is the fight choreography (izawa saori, who is the most precious thing alive, is a former stuntwoman), and much of the cast works well together. on the other hand, it bears the hallmarks of an amateur director who isn’t quite sure of themselves or their vision or voice, so it doesn’t quite gel as well as it could have, and it tends to meander at points. when it’s on, it’s on; when it’s not, it’s just frustrating. as with many of the movies i’ve seen this year that didn’t quite live up to expectations, the bones are good. the bones are there and could be fashioned into something superlative. but it just doesn’t quite get there.

a lot of what i seem to keep criticizing is tone, and this suffers from some awkward tonal shifts that don’t always work. it veers from comedy to bloodthirstiness — there’s a gory scene where a yakuza member tortures a shopkeeper for a joke he doesn’t like, which seemed to belong in a darker movie — and the two things don’t always marry well. the movie is overall pretty gory at spots, with some setpieces of large-scale shootouts, but the torture scene feels deliberately cruel in much more grounded and realistic way than the over-the-top nature of the other fight scenes.

it’s also a bit thinly written at times, and i could have used some more beefing up to the script to better establish our characters, their jobs, and the world around them. due to the lack of connective tissue, it can get confusing regarding motivations and logistics, and another pass at the script to add in some connective tissue would have gone a long way.

but it is fun a lot of the time as well. the girls have an easy, natural chemistry, and director sagamoto yuko takes advantage of that to just showcase them in everyday situations — lounging around their apartment, eating together, lightly bickering. again, stronger/tighter writing would have done a lot to help give a better sense of who the girls are (chisato, played by takaishi, is the bubbly, giggly one, whereas mahiro (izawa) is the perpetually exhausted one who’s just done with a lot of this nonsense), but they do their best to carry the material anyway. given chances to shine, such as in a scene where they both need to get day jobs at a maid cafe, they perform admirably. in another scene, they argue over who’s responsible for finishing a job, while the bound and gagged hostage panics in the background. i really wanted the film to lean into the everyday absurdity in more scenes like this — again, a stronger director and writer could have coaxed out the inherent hilarity of the premise.

there is a sequel to baby assassins, which i unwisely picked up on a sale before watching the first one, but the longer i thought about it, the happier i was that i did. i don’t think the movie is a flop or unsalvageable, and i think that there’s enough potential in the material that sagamoto has the chance to learn and grow from his fumbles in the first one to make the second a stronger, leaner machine. we’ll see if i’m booboo the fool.

other viewing

polite society (uk)

willie dynamite (usa)

oh, god! (usa)

uhf* (usa)

borders of love (czech republic)

my fake boyfriend (canada)

the first wives club (usa)

street gang: how we got to sesame street (usa)

smarty (usa)

yomeddine (egypt)

chico and rita (spain)

words bubble up like soda pop (japan)

the girl can’t help it (usa)

the bride came COD (usa)

beans (canada)

born to win (usa)

the boy inside (japan)

the sum of us (australia)

the railway children (1970) (uk)

congrats my ex! (thailand)

leprechaun 5: leprechaun in the hood (usa)

love undercover (hong kong)

the bad guys (usa)

farha (jordan)

the kick (new zealand)

mahler (uk)

moonfleet (usa)

goodbye, mr loser! (china)

invasion of the body snatchers (1978) (usa)

the doctor and the girl (usa)

mangrove (uk)

challengers (usa)

working class (hong kong)

blondi (argentina)

the girl without hands (france)

in china they eat dogs (denmark)

my first summer (australia)

the secret of my success (usa)

men in white (1934) (usa)

lovers rock (uk)

just good friends s1 (uk)

kiss the blood off my hands (usa)

red white and blue (uk)

northern pursuit (usa)

guidance (canada)

#52 weeks 52 movies #one month to go thank god

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random-introverted-blog · 1 year ago

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Yandere Shadowheart how? [Naturally there will be lots of spoilers]

Excellent question! I've been racking my head around this for a long, long time (sorry again to my ever patient partner) and I think I've figured it out IN CASE ANYONE WANTS TO TRY FOR THEMSELVES.

Shadowheart doesn't naturally exude many possessive traits. She straight up will let Tav/Durge skip off with Halsin, happily at that and ask for details. And she's down for a roll with the Drow twins (especially if Halsin is included) as long as she's gotten to be with Tav/Durge exclusively first.

However she does get noticeably irritated when she catches Tav/Durge after they sneak away with Mizora.

"Kind of you to offer a free sample then. Now that he's/she's tried out inferior goods, he'll/she'll know just how good he/she has it already."

"I'm not jealous, you know. If I wanted to bed something loyal and pure, I'd find a swan."

This could easily be read into as her being hurt at Tav/Durge's lack of trust to ask/talk to her first, their willingness to get down-dirty with a devil/Mizora or both. But it does offer some wriggle room in how to perceive her characters perspective and securities about their relationship.

Shadowheart will then add that due to her background it was almost encouraged to keep things... open among them.

"The way I was raised, the way I was trained... well, it was positively encouraged, to get to know each other. Even from the memories I can recall, there's stories I could tell you..."

I can feel your eyebrows and skeptical looks, just let me cook a minute longer.

Shadowheart will conclude the conversation by highkey telling Tav/Durge to ask her next time they feel like sleeping around and assuring them, if asked, that she would not mind as long as they keep her needs in mind too.

You could take what she says at face value. She's absolutely chill with Tav/Durge getting their hands down as many pairs of pants as possible as long as it's properly communicated with her beforehand.

Or you could suspect that this is something she says she's okay with because that's what she was trained/raised to believe and accept. That it does bother her more than she lets on, maybe even to herself. And if that's how you read into it (canon or not) then you can definitely twist a Shar-Inclined/Dark Justiciar Shadowheart down the obsessive/possessive path. I personally can't see a way to twist a Selunite!Shadowheart but that's what this blog is for!

I know we all look at Ascended!Astarion and go "wow his resources to hunt and control Tav/Durge would be endless!" I've read the fanfics too, guys. But let's not forget DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart is Shar's chosen and right hand. After she kills her parents she even acknowledges in awe how she can call on and command Shar's forces whenever she needs/wants.

She now has command of an entire screwed up cult/church of people who are obsessed with lies, trickery, and deceit. I think that's a tad spoopier than being hunted by some vampire spawn. Never know when the innkeeper or friend you met on the road is with your obsessed ex-girlfriend.

"BUT WAIT WHYNOYANDERESHADOWHEART" I hear you shout angrily, your voice full of !!!ENDGAME ROMANCE SCENE SPOILERS!!!

"DARK JUSTICIAR SHADOWHEART STRAIGHT UP DITCHES YOU WHEN THE ABSOLUTE IS DEFEATED TO GO AND REBUILD THE CHURCH"

DO YOU KNOW WHY I LOVE NIGHT ORCHIDS?

I'VE HEARD THAT SHIT TOO, IT TRAUMATIZED ME AND I ONLY SAW IT ON YOUTUBE.

The thing is, while in a different context. You can reject Astarions offer to turn you into a spawn. You can break up with him at anytime before the end of the game. You can kick him in the nuts when he asks you to kneel after you say no and he says "yes". And while he COMMENTS he should turn you into a spawn just to teach you a lesson of his power (depending on chosen dialogue with him post breakup) the game does not pull any shenanigans that implies he will come after Tav/Durge. It's just highly suspected in the fandom he will because that makes sense. But if you want to take it a step further; in the cut epilogue cards with Withers, it's said that while he does pine over Tav/Durge he will not seek them out because he believes it is beneath his station. If you choose to acknowledge cut content, the game will tell you he leaves Tav/Durge alone.

Count how many active Ascended!Astarion fics there are where he chases them to the ends of Faerun and get back to me.

If the logic can be applied to Ascended!Astarion then the same can go for DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart. She leaves, regrets it for one reason or another, changes her mind, justifies a return, Shar somehow is like "it'd be useful to control them and what better way than the old puppet strings of love?" or whatever. The beauty of a fanfic is that you can decide the details and circumstances for yourself.

That's the bit. Now go forth, Shadowheart simps yearning for dark/obsessive/possessive content too, go and multiply. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

P.s

The game will let you start a romance with Shadowheart in Act 1 but will not give you the option to break up with her. In my first playthrough I was with Shadowheart halfway into Act 2 until Astarion and I hugged and it took Shadowheart confronting my Durge to finally break things off. The game locks you into a yandere-esque romance with Shadowheart... Make of that what you will...

On that note, I believe Karlach is the same...

Look, just make everyone yandere I'm just saying anything is possible if you put your mind to--

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #shadowheart #astarion #ascended astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #dark justiciar shadowheart #baldurs gate shadowheart #bg3 durge

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yuniex07 · 11 months ago

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but Welch made Tav dialogues choices based on pro ascension is all about seeing Astarion as sex object. That’s the problem. Welch already decided all Tavs who chose ascension see Astarion as sex object. Welch only talked about sex object regarding Ascended Astarion.

The way this writer tried to " teach " a lesson was pointless from the begining tbh. From the begining Astarion makes a lot of induendo to the Player character, offers, and pushes for the player to agree to have sex with him. His double meaning banter/aiding lines. EVERYTHING about the character is sexualised. It makes sense this person was only in charge late in the development of the game because the way your character react at that point of the story makes no sense!

Personally, my experience was this one:

Got interested in baldur's gate from tiktok videos, and some mentions of the game from my FC companions in FFXIV. OFC i got moslty non context thristy Astarion videos on tiktok and you know what? i was not interested in him at all . I was like, "why are people simping for him? he looks old, ugly, the guy with a beard looks better, but isnt my type either, might go for one of the girls first" (oh that poor past version of me would probably laught at my present version)

So i played the game without context, and not even liking Astarion's looks. I consider myself a pretty impartial person leaning towards what i consider fair and just, having no experience in DND, my character would be more like a neutral good character of sort? (tbh, i don't see the point of having aligments when the choices of a person will depend on soo many variables. The trolley dilema anyone? )

Anyway, i fell, HARD for this pixelated man, because of his charisma, his sassy comments and his attitude. As he was undercovering more about him, i was more and more facinated, I was struggling with his approval, because even tho i wanted to romance him, i was still making the choices that i considered right! (which people usually relate to being a good character) Long story short, he did proposed at the party and i was able to romance him. My character wanted to help everyone and she did. The game portraits the ritual as somehing that will realy improve his life with no downside for him(not talking about the cost here).

So when getting into the ritual, analizing all the information the game game me up to that point, not knowing what will happen after, and thinking on all the posibiliies of this decision. I could only conclude that 7000 spawns were too dangerous to be liberated, Astarion would be free from his master and from all the vampirism downsides, and he had wanted from the begining the power to take his own decisions and mistakes, own his life and his body. (the persuation check being only for Astarion and non of the other companions was interesting... i would not try to persuade him to do something he was asking for from the begining) He had the full support of my character. And i was happy after the ritual, he sounded confident and finally able to act without fear.

So when the long rest scene played i was put off by the dialog choices and TAV's expressions(they fixed them now but not during that time) my character seemed like trying to lecture him and put the blame of a decisison they BOTH agreed only on him(same from the companions like what?? i did it too you know?? why are they angry at him but not me?) then the "spicy" scene happened (it was a pleasant surprise for me i had no idea it was from this route so it proves once again that not everyone Ascends him just because you want to sexualize him) If you think about it, is not even THAT sexual when compared to other companions is pretty tamed.

In conclusion, that writer has some several issues that needs to be addresses and tried to use the game to try to feel better with themself or scape remorse from all the social opportunities they missed for not been able to socialize properly and idealize fiction over reality durning their younger years.

#anon ask #lord astarion

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cosmicangst · 1 year ago

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weekly reads (12/17)

the gentleman's gambit (#4) | evie dunmore: ★★★★☆

⤷ the last book in a league of extraordinary women series, which is about a group of victorian suffragettes who find love in their allies and specifically in the last two books, champions and activists of their own cause. so i was understandably feeling the gravity of it here. this one deals with an academic/linguist and a businessman posing as a scholar to retrieve stolen artifacts from his homeland.

i feel like these all had the right ingredients for a well-developed romance but i think the execution of it still fell short of perfect. the main external conflict for example was riding on the heist, paired with the internal conflict of the leads overcoming their past experiences to trust in their love. however, i feel like the book was busy also being the Last Book of the series and just pulling in a lot of other threads that the resolution of the core story just feels a little unfinished.

like conceptually i understand the third act breakup (especially as a woman of color who lives in diaspora) but i don't know if it feels emotionally satisfying. and i think that could be rooted down to the fact that we learn a lot about elias and his perspective especially with regards to politics but we dont know the personal (and painful) context of his motivation besides an ill-fated love affair. what is elias risking by pursuing catriona? why is the betrayal so heavy as a man belonging to an oppressed class and as a man who's been disappointed by love before? and by asking these i mean how is the story showing us these answers rather than telling us?

for me, my political beliefs stretch over groups but they are no doubt rooted in very personal and very specific experiences. elias can say a lot about politics and the ethics of why he does what he does but as a character, where is the specificity? we spend a lot of the book with it telling us the history of his country and his people but not a lot of showing in why elias does what he does. i can see traces of it (especially in scenes of microaggressions and blatant racism) but the writing feels a little lazy in this regard by just applying a handwave-y "yknow 1800s-typical racism and xenophobia" as character motivations

if anything what we needed to learn more of was his family and his specific relationships with them besides some mentions and a few cameos from his cousin. a more cohesive way to tie external and internal conflicts from elias's side of things is to root his drive in his loyalty and perhaps complex feelings toward his family (and by extension his homeland) and have it face his burgeoning feelings for catriona (and his diasporic identity) and marry those together. hot take here but if the heist was going to conclude anticlimactically like that, it should have been placed halfway in the book. then dedicate the last half to catriona following elias back to his country and meeting his family and properly learning about them and what it means to have an interracial marriage in this time period. if we go by how the points are outlined, catriona's journey feels far more streamlined than elias's. a balance would have made the third act not feel so cut off and unearned. also we should have had two epilogues if it was going to end like that lol

but still. i have much love for this book and im sad to say goodbye to these characters. overall, my final thoughts for this series: best book overall is still probably the first one but my fave couple is the second. third and fourth book have perfect individual elements that i wish melded better with each other. which makes me think about them a little more than the first two because im always thinking about the could-have-beens. elias could have been my favorite mmc here if he was just a little more cohesive as a character

tokyo ueno station | yu miri: ★★★★★

⤷ the ghost of a homeless man reflects on his life, family, and poverty and the thin line that separates him and the most powerful man in his country. a re-read and still just as emotional as the first time. perhaps even more on a personal level since la is getting ready for the olympics, which make me reflect on how much my own streets have changed and displaced its own people. and how much more it will do so in the coming years. the final passage of the book is beautiful and agonizing. life does goes on, with or without you. for the better and for the worse.

#weekly reads.#forgot to post this yesterday!

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wintersandthebeast · 2 years ago

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47. Selfish

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

Ethan kissed Karl in a sweet, almost innocent way, but when he drew back, the blond was still laughing. Karl studied him for a moment and his own brown eyebrows lifted in a show of moderately confused disbelief, which only made Ethan laugh more. Heisenberg realized he’d never actually seen Ethan laugh, either before or after the village’s destruction. Maybe a chuckle here and there. It was almost unsettling.

“You uh…always laugh at people after….” Heisenberg’s head bobbed as he watched Ethan lower himself onto both knees in the water, and then scoot closer to the engineer, who still sat on the edge of the tub, his calves covered in bubbles.

“No,” Ethan responded honestly. “I’m just laughing at my life. It’s ridiculous.”

“Hmmm,” Karl retorted, too buzzed from the whiskey to properly give a smartass comment. In truth, he wanted nothing more than Ethan happy, and a laughing Ethan was preferable to a 2am scowling, coffee-needing existential Ethan. But it was a jarring change nonetheless. Ethan’s cheeks were properly flushed. Now the giggling blond calmed and his embarrassed reaction tapered into a simple, smitten smile.

“You are an enigma,” Winters concluded in an awestruck voice, his soapy hands drifting up Karl’s thighs. “I don’t even know how I feel this way about somebody that I don’t understand.”

“That so.” Karl leaned back as Ethan leaned forward, soft hands now dancing around Karl’s groin, each tease of a stroke hardening his member, making it twitch. Karl flared his nostrils and stared at the blond through heavier lids.

“One day I’ll figure you out,” Ethan said confidently, his fingertips turning into a grip, now pumping in a slow, relaxed pace. His eyes never left Karl’s.

“Nothin’ to figure out,” Karl breathed, steadying himself. “M’Made of sugar, remember?”

“That’s bullshit,” Ethan said confidently, which made Heisenberg bark with laughter. “Gasoline and contempt, maybe.” His strokes, his pace, increased, earning him a groan from Heisenberg.

“And you’re gonna taste me anyway,” the brunette said smugly, “Aren’t ya?”

Ethan bit his lip in response, finally lowering his head to Heisenberg’s thighs. His lips were soft, his tongue velvet, his breath warm. Ethan’s attention was perfect, as always, while he licked and suckled. He leaned forward even more, silky blond hair pressing into Karl’s lower stomach. Karl exhaled, leaning back with one palm as a prop. The other hand stroked Ethan’s soft hair. Ethan was always this enthusiastic, but Karl was usually not patient enough to enjoy foreplay this way.

Karl grunted, then shivered, spreading his legs and rocking his hips upward instinctively. His shiver caused Ethan to meet his eyes from his crouched position, and now Karl gripped the blond’s hair with just enough force to tug on his scalp. Ethan moaned at this, the vibration on Karl’s cock causing him to gasp. “Fuck, Ethan,” he mumbled, in an almost reverent voice, “Your mouth feels so good. Just like that.”

Normally Karl gave more instruction or feedback, but his entire body was too busy responding to the hot warmth of the other’s lips and throat. Drool and juices coated every inch between his legs, and he was twitching around the tight grip that Ethan had him in.

This was entirely different from the animalistic need Karl had let out for years. It was more like unraveling, slowly becoming unmade, falling into a pile of nothingness at the blond’s every motion. The only part of his body under his own control seemed to be his hips, which now bucked up rhythmically and enthusiastically toward the other’s mouth. He felt nothing other than the tongue, which lapped along every sensitive inch now, coaxing more precum from Heisenberg. The hand that had gripped Ethan’s hair now let go, falling to Heisenberg’s side as he tried to hold himself upright.

This abrupt slip of control was almost too much for the engineer, and he realized he was on the verge of exploding; instead he growled, pulling his hips away while pushing Ethan back. When the blond stared at him in surprise, Karl grinned and sank into the water. In seconds he pulled the long-legged blond on top of him, grabbing handfuls of thigh as he slid the other onto his lap.

“Maybe some sugar,” Ethan conceded, a playful grin on his lips as he leaned forward, sharing the taste of the other man with the kiss. Heisenberg grunted in pleasure at this sensation. Their tongues became slower, thoughtful, messier while Karl’s hands traced around Ethan’s waist and hips. Karl remembered the lube he’d stashed earlier and now his hands danced around the tub until he caught it. He could hear Ethan’s breath increase as it always did when the engineer got ready to prep him.

Karl pulled his head away, eyes dancing at the blushing man on his lap. He wasn’t used to this clarity paired with the constant threat of coming undone. Even now under the hot water his cock was throbbing, anticipating what was next, having been pulled away from the precipice. He knew he had to clear his mind and focus on Ethan.

Now the brunette coated his fingers with waterproof, silicone lubricant and lowered his hand under the water, brushing his fingers on the outside of Ethan’s hole. This caused the other man to press closer, grinding down on the fingertips. Karl instead moved in circles on the outside, his lip curling in an almost-smile. “Somebody’s eager.” His tone was almost taunting.

“I want you inside me,” Ethan breathed, his blush deepening. Perhaps the wine was good for more than just fits of giggles over his life.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get all of me,” Karl responded, his eyes scanning over Ethan’s features. The pouting lips, the nearly quivering chin. Several times Ethan tried to find and press into his fingertips, but Karl was adept, only slipping the fingertips in enough to smear the lube around, immediately withdrawing and continuing his tantalizing slow circles. “I’ll fill you up soon enough.”

“Karrrrl,” Ethan whined, his voice hitting that high pitch that Karl loved. It caused Karl’s free hand to lift from the water and drape over Ethan’s throat firmly. Ethan was used to the dynamic, often trembling in the engineer’s hand while his body was used however Karl wanted, but now Karl slid his palm around to the back of his neck, thumbing the artery on the side. Heisenberg tilted his head.

“I said you’ll get all of me,” Karl said with a chuff, and as if to prove himself he allowed a finger to slide in halfway. Ethan sighed and hummed, leaning into Karl’s grip on his neck as his eyes closed. As much as Karl loved to tease, he also loved pleasuring the other, and his finger reflexively moved in the direction of Ethan’s prostate. Now the hum turned into a moan, Ethan nuzzling Karl’s hand again. A dark-skinned thumb traced over the pale cheek and found Ethan’s lips; they parted as Ethan allowed the digit entry into his mouth.

“Goddamn,” Karl said through mumbling, barely open lips at the sensation of Ethan suckling his thumb, and still slowly gyrating his hips down toward the partially inserted finger. Karl wanted to stay suspended in this moment forever, but even this wasn’t explosion-safe….he was throbbing twice as hard.

Enough teasing, he decided, and moved his hand to Ethan’s shoulder, gripping it as he added another digit, tentatively spreading the two apart inside the other man. Ethan gripped Heisenberg’s cock underwater, and golden eyes widened in surprise.

“I should have made you a bath back at the factory, if I knew it'd work this well,” Karl said, whiskey on his breath, now grunting as he fought to refocus on spreading Ethan instead of the sensations jerking through his entire body.

“It’s not the bath, it’s you,” Ethan argued, nearly breathless himself. His hand strokes were feverish, possessive, nothing like they had been earlier. It felt amazing, enough to destroy the engineer in seconds. Karl fought for lucidity.

“What about me,” was all he could muster as he finally inserted a third finger, plunging them toward the prostate and moving in slow, expert circles now on the inside. The massage caused Ethan to lose composure this time, which Heisenberg watched hungrily, savoring the panting and high-pitched whine from the blond. He dug the fingernails into Ethan’s shoulder. “Ethan.” Eethun . “What about me.” A smile played over the scars.

“You-make-me-crazy,” the other said haltingly, a hiccuping breath between each word. “Always…have. Karl please.”

“You make me crazy too,” Karl found himself confessing, the smile fading as his prostate massage finally caused Ethan to grab onto his shoulders to stay upright, his torturous assault on the brunette’s member ceasing. Karl exhaled a sigh as his head continued to swim. For several seconds, he could think, maybe even speak. “I watched you the whole time,” he was muttering, but not stumbling over his words as he usually did with alcohol. “Watched you, wanted you. To keep you.”

Ethan’s shrill, desperate noises lowered in pitch and he pulled back, fingers now pushing Heisenberg’s tangles away from his face. His expression showed that he understood what Karl meant, even if Karl was particularly bad at articulating himself at this moment.

“Why.”

It was easy with slippery water, extra slippery lube, for Karl to grasp his own cock with his free hand, guide it to Ethan’s entrance, and now gently withdraw his fingers as he properly lowered the blond onto him. He paused with just his tip inside, and Ethan’s labored breathing and parted lips told him the other would not be pressing down onto him as he had with fingers; Karl was far too wide for that.

Why , indeed. The engineer had both hands gripping into the sides of Ethan’s ass, holding him in place while a thousand images rolled through his mind. The months they’d spent together, their time within the mold’s consciousness before that, and both their, and the village’s, deaths prior. With Ethan’s arrival the cacophony of death, life, and everything in between, had never ceased; his approach was closer to one of the four horsemen than anything Karl could have ever created. He was stronger than an army of Soldaten, stronger than the mutamycete he’d conquered, stronger than any Lord or would-be God.

Karl’s eyes were elsewhere; now they flickered over to the expectant hazels. He could hear the sounds of singing from outside, as though the day’s namesake fairies carried them there, with the crackling sound and scent of the bonfire.

Burning within, seen from without, and your gut was a serpent coiling

and for the sake of that pit of snakes, for whom did you allay your shyness?

And spend all your mercy and madness and grace in a day beneath the bending cypress?

He’d never have an answer that would satisfy the blond. Karl couldn’t even satisfy the answer in his own head. How did one say, I felt like I knew you? I felt like I knew what you could, and would, do to me and I’d still come back, and bring you along with me. Not because of the trauma or the cult. Just because it was meant to be that way. They were meant to be together.

No. Absolutely not.

Karl spoke as he slowly pressed, finally, into the other. Eliciting an almost immediate moan and squirm from Ethan.

“Guess I’m selfish,” was the reply, but he could tell from Ethan’s expression that the other had read, or sensed, the other parts, the parts that weren’t said. Now the fingers digging into his shoulders cut deeper and Ethan cried out, tossing his head back in a rare display of ecstasy. His legs flexed on either side of Heisenberg, carrying him upward as Karl’s hips shot forward again. They quickly fell into a rhythm and for a few blissful minutes the only sounds were Karl’s grunts and Ethan’s wistful, throaty cries.

Heisenberg savored the position, the sensation of Ethan slamming down onto him and completely enveloping--crushing him in the perfect way. His hands dug into the other’s hips as he guided him back to his cock with every stroke, and Ethan’s nails dug so deeply they threatened to draw blood.

“I told you,” Heisenberg said through a tense jaw, “You’d get all of me.”

“I need you,” Ethan responded, his head falling forward onto Heisenberg’s temple. “You feel so good inside me.”

This spurred Karl onward, and he groaned in approval when Ethan’s raking claws did scratch deep enough to draw blood. The blond went from being tense, rapid in his movements to more fluid and limp. Karl could feel the muscles twitching in Ethan’s limbs, heard the shuddering breaths.

“Ethan,” Karl exhaled, as the blond wrapped his arms around the engineer’s shoulders, beginning the consistent spray of kisses, licks, whimpers. He knew by now what this meant; the blond was losing himself, he was also coming undone.

“Ethan.” It was a growl. The blond was so tight, and Karl had been withholding for so long, he truly wasn’t sure how much longer he could last like this. That didn’t mean he slowed or stopped; if anything, Karl was pounding faster and harder, and the other’s moans showed approval.

“Yes,” the other whimpered with his lips on Karl’s ear, his breath hot. He instinctively slowed, and Karl took the opportunity to grasp Ethan’s cock and pump up and down, causing the other to writhe with new sensation. Karl gripped him with authority, knowing just the style of strokes Ethan liked.

The brunette struggled to keep his breath even for his next words, closing his eyes involuntarily. “I need you to cum for me.”

These words alone caused Ethan’s breath to catch in his throat and he turned his gaze back to Heisenberg, hands threading through, clawing at and pulling the once-auburn locks while Heisenberg talked him through the orgasm. He pulsed in Karl’s hand, his hole clenching tighter as he was rocked over and over; Karl’s other arm came up to drape over the taller man’s shoulders, caress his back.

He didn’t expect Ethan to find his lips, for another kiss complete with ragged breaths between it, or for the man to slowly ride him as he continued to work through his own waves of pleasure. Finally Heisenberg released his own control, groaning loudly onto Ethan’s parted lips. His thighs shook under the blond and his hands gripped the other’s face, grasping the short hair when he could. Their foreheads pressed together in mutual exhaustion, finally.

The muffled sounds of the faraway party became more evident as the silence grew between them. It seemed neither wanted to break the spell they’d cast in the room, but again it was surprisingly Ethan who spoke.

“Is that part of your…philosophy? The physics and universe and stuff?”

Karl was utterly lost, could barely speak English. He blinked, shook his head. “...What?”

“You said we were meant to be together.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You thought it.”

Karl made a confused, chuffing sound. He finally drew back, sitting comfortably in the water, draping his arms over the edges as he continued to catch his breath. His eyebrow arched; his eyes were bleary.

“I did?”

“You don’t feel that way?”

“I do,” the engineer said honestly and simply.

#karl x ethan #heisenberg x ethan #re8 fanfiction

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a-music-person · 2 years ago

Text

Why First Rate Town by Good Kid is Boring

First Rate Town - Spotify

First Rate Town - YouTube

I have already written one of these about a different song by the same band. If you want, you can read it here. I bring this up because this makes two negative posts about this band, so I just want to say that you should listen to this song. If you like it, you’ll love their other stuff. Even if you don’t like this song, you should give them a chance anyway. I never want to keep people from listening to a song, or even entire band, because I said it was bad, and I especially don’t want anyone to avoid this band. I love all their other stuff, and the reason I know about this song in the first place is because I've subbed to their YouTube after finding their music.

This song is one I don’t think I’ll be listening to a lot, which I don't like saying. Though their previous release wasn’t my favorite, it was overall listenable. This one, however, has another issue as well that is too big and encompassing for me to want to listen more than once.

This song has two big issues, in my opinion: it doesn’t conclude, and it’s monotonous.

The ending one may catch you off guard. ‘Of course it has an ending, it doesn’t go on forever.’ While that is true, there is a difference between concluding a song and just ending it. It’s like if an epic story ends just before the final battle, and we don’t get to see if the good guys win. In that scenario, we get an ending, but no conclusion.

How did that happen? Why do I say that First Rate Town doesn’t conclude? Well, it’s because the song ends on the bridge instead of the chorus. The way that the verse-chorus-bridge structure works is the song should slowly build into a final, explosive chorus. To go back to the story metaphor, it’s like when a story slowly builds into an epic final battle. The story likely has already had its ups and downs, but that final battle is why the protagonists, and the reader, have kept going for all this time. In verse-chorus, you need to end on the chorus, because it acts as that final battle.

You can probably see where this is going. First Rate Town doesn’t end on a chorus. Instead, it ends on the bridge, the worst part of a song to end on. If you ended a story just before the final battle, the reader won’t get any satisfaction or relief from finally seeing who wins. If you prefer romance, it would be like ending that story just before they can realize that they do belong together. By ending the song on the bridge, it lacks that finality and satisfaction that it really needs to properly conclude.

The second issue I have with this song is the fact that the verses and choruses are too similar in energy and mood. This similarity is a problem because it means that the song is literally monotonous. It has one energy level, and that causes the song to be uninteresting to listen to. Again, I’ll go to the story metaphor. Stories need to have ups and downs to be interesting. If a story only ever has the same stakes level from beginning to end, a reader likely won’t read it all, because the story will be boring. The lows of a story make the highs more important.

While it doesn’t translate one-to-one, that idea applies to music as well. A song needs to have those low parts in order for the highs to feel impactful. Without them, a song will feel monotonous. You can see how this applies to First Rate Town; the verses are too similar to the choruses, causing this one-note issue and making the song uninteresting to listen to.

Anyways, that’s all.

-J.W

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meffuyu · 2 years ago

Text

𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

(A spontaneous feeling of closeness)

Ask:: "Tanjiro and y/n have their first kiss, how did it feel, where did they kiss. Did it escalate?? I leave these questions to you, dear author."

tanjiro k. x reader

a/n : occasionally I post ship fics on my ao3, exploring wonderful genres for practice. (Pink93)

Writing scenarios even I wish I had experience in. 🗿

Fluff, and… more fluff?

It was time.

Tanjiro dared himself to do something he had never done before. The next time he was going to meet you again face-to-face, he would seal his overflowing feelings with a passionate kiss.

He didn't know how to kiss a girl or if that would break your boundaries. He didn't wish to upset you, he respected women! Unlike a particular comrade…

Tanjiro couldn't ask anyone for advice on how to kiss a girl, and no, not just any girl, you.

The topic was once brought to the two of his trusted friends, but they only looked at each other in confusion. Inosuke thought kissing was more like eating one's face for the sake of starvation. While Zenitsu kept pestering him to reveal the lucky girl he had his eyes on.

If only they knew it was you, he was sure the two of them would have laughed their hearts away.

But here he was, sitting on his knees attending a class that perfected 'the art of lips,' in other words, Zenitsu's lesson about love.

The poor boy Tanjiro had his fingers curled into fists and firmly pressed against his knees. Beside him was Inosuke, apparently doing the same action.

Back and forth, Zenitsu paced around, holding a long twig he had managed to obtain at the beginning of this class. He took this teaching job seriously as his arms were behind his back.

Whipping the tip of the stick against the ground earned the other two boys a stiff reaction.

"So…" He started. "What brings the two of you to my class? Hm? You both have sad lives, so; I'm curious to know why you asked little ol' me for help." The blond closed his eyes as he took deep breaths, almost like he was angry.

"I ain't even wanna be here!" Inosuke huffed, folding his arms against his bare, rippled chest.

Truth was, Zenitsu forced Inosuke to attend; the only person willing was Tanjiro. Yes, it is a surprise, especially since he debated his thoughts about allowing Zenitsu to teach him everything that needed to be known about kissing.

Zenitsu clicked his tongue. Inosuke's complaints have ticked him off. "Shut up! You will sit there and learn how to kiss a girl properly- you should be grateful I am wasting my precious time on you since you don't even know what romance is!"

"What did you say!?" The inner boar was set ablaze.

"You heard me! After I'm done, you better be able to kiss a girl so you won't be so depressed and lonely in life! While Tanjiro and I will have wives, you'll have nothing but your measly damned self!" The blond fired back, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Tanjiro turned pale as his jaw dropped.

Inosuke became speechless.

[Name]... as a wife?

Instantly, Zenitsu returned to his natural mood state and beamed as if nothing had happened. He pointed the stick at Tanjiro, slightly waving it around.

"Very well, what about you? Why are you here?" He quizzically asked.

Tanjiro thought carefully and soon parted his lips to explain.

"I was hoping to prepare myself when kissing the girl I like, but… I realized that life is about risks. When we returned from the Entertainment District, Mr. Uzui told us that love seems to come in the ways you least expect."

Zenitsu raised both of his eyebrows, intrigued with what Tanjiro told him. "So, what are you trying to say?"

"I don't think this class is for me." He concluded. Tanjiro quickly arose from his sitting position and hauled the giant crate that contained Nezuko upon his back.

"What? But Tanjiro!-" The blond began.

"I have to go! She's usually around this time, I know what I'm going to do." He waved, and before Zenitsu could give a piece of his mind, Inosuke captured the boy into a headlock.

"HUgh-?!"

"Monitsu! You're all talk!" Inosuke retaliated.

Tanjiro wasted no time in leaving, he was desperate to see you. So he continuously waved to the two boys fighting and making a loud commotion. Tanjiro jogged through the mighty forest with a crate on his back, he knew Nezuko was asleep right now.

You met Tanjiro before he formed his squad, but you had to depart because you preferred to be solo. Even so, working with Kanao Tsuyuri in combat had always been driven by a little Insect Pillar.

The young teenager was in a hurry as the dust from the ground flew in the air each time he dragged his feet against the surface. He held onto the straps of the crate tightly, trying to keep it at least sturdy so Nezuko wouldn't awaken by the frequent movement.

From the rural land, he escaped the forest with the tallest trees. He entered the town in his view, excited to see you again.

"Hey Nezuko, it's natural to try your firsts with the person you love, right?" He inquired, as he knew he would receive no response from his kid demon sister anytime soon. So, for now, he would just see it as a rhetorical question.

Passing through the open shops that displayed their goods and services, Tanjiro examined his surroundings; however, it was only by the alarming scent he adored so much that he could get led to where you were located.

He pondered thoughtfully on if he would give you something special one day. His eyes scanned the various stores with antiques for different occasions. Stopping his footing, he saw a hairpin that reminded him so much of you. For some odd reason, he knew he had to get it for you.

About five hundred yen was the price.

After just a few words with the shopkeeper, he had the hairpin in his hand in no time. Featuring fabrics and silks that complimented the designs, he believed you would love it.

But of course, he couldn't spend any more time admiring the item, he needed to see you!

He was off, jogging again at a pace his legs would surely take him. After some minutes of searching and turning many street corners, he saw a specific figure by a Palmate Maple tree. On the bench, you were, typically writing a letter.

How did he know you were writing a letter? He knew everything about you, and little did you know that he did.

Watching your concentrated expression while you thought about words to incorporate into your letter. Your eyebrows knitted together as you chewed on your bottom lip focused.

The season for romance Zenitsu would say, but it was only Autumn.

Placing the giant crate down, Tanjiro approached you with great reluctance in his movement. He did not wish to startle you or stop you from continuing your intense writing. Magenta orbs observing the straw brush in your hand, and to him, the motion of the tip indicated you were writing a specific word in Kanji.

Then you suddenly looked up.

He was so alarmed by how you did so, it was something he least expected. The rate of his heartbeat increased per minute, and for a second, he lost his breath.

Actually, when did he get so close to you? He was peering over you, staring at your features up close. How embarrassing…

"T-Tanjiro!?" You squeaked.

Quickly, your arms shielded your work when you understood what was happening. That action caused you to knock over the small jar of jet black pigment, which Tanjiro caught instantly due to swift reflexes.

"[Name]!" He called.

Tanjiro was caught off guard. Sitting next to you on the wooden bench, he lifted the jar of ink. You had rolled up your letter, giving him your full attention.

Typical Tanjiro. The answer was clear to anyone, even if you wanted to ask how he found you. Somehow, he looked even tenser than the last time he saw you during an outing.

Setting aside the parchment paper, you retrieved the ink jar from his hold.

"Were you looking for me?" You asked, and to that, he nodded.

Tanjiro began sweating when he remembered what he specifically came here to do, so he thought to himself: what would Mr. Uzui do?

He displayed a poker-faced expression, which had you slightly concerned. His index finger was pressed against his chin as he thought intensely about how the Sound Pillar would behave. He was… thinking a little too hard.

"Hello? Hey?" You waved your palm directly over his face.

You weren't able to get an answer to your question because all that followed was silence. Only people's conversations could be heard, or the hardened Fall leaves were crushed under the feet of 'seasonal' couples.

'Remember you three… actions, always speak louder than words.'

Tanjiro thought those words were rich coming from Tengen Uzui. However, there was a point made that he couldn't deny.

Actions do speak louder than words.

Actions… Words…

And a heartbeat.

His heart was beating at the thought of kissing you. He swore he'd make a move; he told Zenitsu and Inosuke he could do it without using the kissing classes. Then why was he stalling so much?!

It's because he's never kissed a girl like you before.

Two roughly textured palms were wrapped around your single hand. The force that came with the capture of your hand was immeasurable. You toppled over him until your body was pressed firmly against his chest, and his eyes locked in with yours.

As people tried to see what exactly was happening, the two of you were in a questionable position. On the bench, Tanjiro was lying flat on his back, and you hovered over him.

It was hard not to laugh as your noses touched each other, as if his clumsiness had gotten the best of him this time. It wasn't long before your hair tickled his face, and he was laughing. There seemed to be a mess between you two, almost as if you were a couple.

"What on earth are you doing, clumsy!" You joked, patting his chest to try and sustain your laughter. His sweet chuckles had already died down, and all that remained was a soft smile.

"This." He replied.

With his eyelids closing, Tanjiro's lips made contact with your own. It was an indescribable feeling that one would call a 'spark.' In this case, a spark had been ignited by the tender kiss.

As his lips moved against yours, he savoured the passion he was experiencing and the taste of your plump lips. When the surprise wave ended, you kissed him in return. Tanjiro's lips formed to become one with yours as he took his time. He had no thoughts; he couldn't think of anything to distract himself because the kiss felt so alive.

In the boy's eyes, it didn't matter if your hair was thick or thin because his main objective was to push the hairpin into the clusters of hair tendrils.

The young Kamado found his way to express his undying love.

It was a success that the hairpin stuck in your hair and looked pretty on you as well.

The first kiss Tanjiro had ever shared with you was finally over as he pulled away from you. He fiddled with the pin before allowing you to embrace it.

"You shouldn't have, and you know it!" You chided with a fit of giggles.

"But," Tanjiro shook his head with that permanent smile. "I had to because of one specific reason."

"Oh? What's the reason?" Another question you decided to ask as your fingertips traced the hairpin lightly.

"Because I love you."

#tanjiro x you #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x y/n #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro drabbles #tanjiro fluff #kny fluff #ㅡ meff writings!

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hh0320 · 2 years ago

Text

𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥;

part three of the velvet opiate series. part one, part two.

pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)

word count: 4.6k

genre: visual gothic rock band, romance, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.

warnings: profanity, mature themes, drug & alcohol abuse, foursome, unprotected sex, filthy talk, light bdsm play, light sadism.

🏷: @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @svintsandghosts.

tunes: radiohead (go slowly), mareux (the perfect girl).

Recordings for the new album lasted for a month and a half.

In those forty five days, none of them could move an inch away from the studio, without Joon breathing down their neck, threatening to kick them out the band. Some nights they would sleep in there, dreaming of riffs, and melodies.

Felix had lyrics. But lyrics were nothing but pretty poetry without the music, and Velvet Opiate were not looking to sell books—Chan was very aware of that.

He hadn’t been sleeping properly, if at all. Notes came to him organically, he could get inspired by anything, had a natural talent in song making, and got paid good money to keep it up—yet, he was fucked.

They needed a title track, and all they’d made so far were B sides. And it was on him. It was his fault, because he was so busy running around saving his band mates from themselves, that he’d had no time to sit down and produce. The one thing that was truly of any significance, for them, but to him, especially, solely.

Bang Chan had his music, entirely. Without it, he was just an entitled clown with a drum kit. The company needed a title track, and he’d provide, even if it killed him.

Nothing else mattered.

“From the top!”

The four of them inwardly groaned, fingers raw, sweat dripping from their hair. That was the fifth time they had to repeat that damn song, and they were fucking sick of it.

“Jail would be better than this,” Felix muttered under his breath, throat dry.

Minho chuckled, discarding his wet, sweaty shirt, bass propped on his thigh. His hair stuck to his forehead, dark circles around his brown eyes; he looked like he’d escaped hell.

Maybe he had, Hyunjin could never tell with his older friend.

“What do you know about jail, sunshine?” The purple haired man asked, sarcastically.

Felix rolled his eyes, a devilish smile on his lips. “I know that I’d drop the soap for you, handsome.”

Minho smirked, leaning forward. “All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.”

“Please stop flirting, it’s making me fucking nauseous,” Chan interjected, a disgusted look on his face.

Hyunjin laughed, going through the tabs. “D’ you think they’ve already fucked, Bang? The tension is palpable.”

“He wouldn’t be able to handle what I give, doll face,” he concluded with a wink, and Hyunjin shook his head, smiling.

“What are you into these days, anyway? Satanic summonings?” Felix widened his eyes, in emphasis.

“Boys, get serious,” Joon said, through the microphone, on the other side. “Again.”

“Lix, shut the fuck up, before he ties you to a goddamn cross.”

Felix pft’ed, while Hyunjin started playing the intro of the new song. “He wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” Minho warned, staring at the singer. “Careful what you ask for.”

Felix swallowed hard, and started:

‘His eyes were heavy

He carried a gun…’

Minho was bored.

His whole life, it seemed, was a mundane routine of waking up to uneventful days, eat, breathe, piss, fuck, repeat. Such was the mortal existence; to have your little time on earth, and then fuck off to whatever afterworld you believe in.

How mediocre—plain. Lee Minho refused to succumb to the monotonous, the tedious. That is why he joined Velvet, that’s why he is the way he is.

Tragic fucking backstory aside, since who the fuck really cares, Minho won’t blame the orphanage beginnings, or the loveless child trope that he’s carried throughout the years.

Juvie at fourteen, mental rehabilitation institute at sixteen, the freezing streets of the capital when freshly eighteen—could he condemn his bad luck? Ignore the responsibility of his fate?

Minho was many things, indifferent to everything, numb to surprise and pain, but he had a sense of responsibility for his actions—he’d never inconvenience anyone, especially the people he associates with the most, because of his own self destructive tendencies. His personal life was his, and his only.

That was the kind of picture Lee Minho painted. A rational one; a competent, sane person, albeit a little unreliable as a narrator.

Some called him a heartless son of a bitch.

Alas, no one was perfect.

It was well after midnight, a Friday on their second week of recordings, when they spotted the fans they’d been warned about.

They were waiting patiently on the side of the exit door, girls in their early twenties, masks hiding their faces, giddy eyes searching for their beloved artists. Joon had given them black caps, and advised the band to keep their heads low, and wave.

Felix broke first, but he later swears it was only because of their long time fan, and founder of his fan club, holding out a gift for him. He hugged her, and signed some pictures for her next giveaway.

Felix was like that—thoughtless, whimsical. It wasn’t exactly a fault, Minho thought, though Chan had reprimanded him quite a bit for his capricious actions.

That night, Minho had a craving. It was an urge, a thirst he couldn’t shake off. And what Minho wanted, Minho had—absolutely.

His gaze had caught the brunette on the far left of the group. She noticed him looking at her, and lowered her eyes immediately, succumbing to his intense stare.

She’ll break easily. That was fine by him, he wasn’t searching for a challenge, not tonight.

A nudge and a knowing look to his bodyguard, and he entered the van after Hyunjin, who’d nearly ran there.

He texted, ‘and her friend,’ to his not so little helper, and smirked down at the screen, feeling Hyunjin’s curious eyes.

“Fuck me,” the blonde boy rolled his eyes. “Just fucking—keep them quiet, will you? It’s a hotel, not your goddamn torture chamber.”

Minho chuckled sinisterly, watching everyone get in the vehicle. It was somewhat unfortunate he didn’t have his…toys with him, but if he was being honest, his patience had ran thin after all the work stress, and not being able to be at the comfort of his own home.

He just needed…release. And they’d have to fucking do, for now.

“I make no promises, doll face.”

Felix turned to that, confused. “Wait, what?”

“Shit, Minho don’t fucking tell me—” Chan started, annoyed.

Hyunjin snorted, lighting a cigarette. He could hear the girls yelling goodnight’s, and I love you’s, and absentmindedly smiled at the words.

“It’s true,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning back against the seat. “Minho’s gonna bless our ears, and get his dick wet.”

“Charity work, boys. You’re welcome,” the perpetrator finished, amused by the attention he was getting.

Chan groaned, while Felix scrunched his nose, wanting to retaliate.

“We’re gonna get kicked out, again. Fucking watch.”

Hyunjin had gifted Minho a pair of Vivienne Westwood pearl earrings for Christmas. It was her original design, and he’d gotten them as a last minute thing, a thank you for all the times the older boy had covered for his ass to their manager.

Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho inside a burning house. He would, if only to see what invisibility truly was. Minho was deathless, a distant form of a man that got away with everything.

His cunningness, his endearing personality that made you blindly follow him to the edges of the sharpest cliffs—where Hyunjin would free fall, searching for any kind of high, Minho could convince people to jump in his place, manipulate them into thinking they’ll be okay once they reached the bottom.

You had to really know the question mark, to know the fairytales it spewed. And Minho did tell a lot of stories. It depended on the kind of person you were—what you did and did not deserve to find out. For some, dragons have been slayed, princesses rescued—others know of the tales of the cavernous forest; about the tough fight against the darkness, how it stole everything, fed on his soul—

How he lost that soul, and what it cost him in the end.

There were a lot of stories, all of them fake. What was Lee Minho in his essence—a con man, hiding inside a thousand mirrors, each one containing only an echo of the small, scared boy he still was, deep down.

Hyunjin caught a glimpse of those earrings, dangling in the bright lights of the long hall leading to their rooms. Hair shining an intense purple, Minho disappeared behind his door, voice lost and now trapped against the four walls, no doubt a warm greeting to his guests for the night.

Chan was leaning against the railing, smoking one of his rare cigarettes. If nicotine was involved, Bang Chan was fucking stressed. Valid, considering.

“I’m worried about him,” he admitted, running a hand through his silver hair.

Lighter already in hand, Hyunjin copied his band mate. He stood next to him, silent for a while, wondering how could anyone worry about a snake.

The level of danger depends on the kind, but most snakes are adaptable, secretive creatures. They shed their skin when they’ve outgrown it, are reborn stronger, stealthier. A snake cannot truly die. If Hyunjin had to guess, Minho would be a saw-scaled viper, quick to attack, so you never see him coming.

He could survive anything, because he always put himself first. No exceptions, unless specified.

“These walls are paper thin.”

Chan sighed. “I could fucking care less about that, I’ve seen him fuck and get fucked forty different ways. I’m talking about his coping mechanisms—” he lowered his voice, glancing around.

Joon had their entire floor cleared, so it was only the four of them staying there, but some things Velvet Opiate kept close to their heart of hearts, never daring to speak about them out loud. It was an unwritten rule.

“Ever since his accident, her death—he’s never been the same again. I couldn’t possibly know what the fuck he’s thinking now, if I ever did back then.”

It was true. Minho had been in a fatal car accident, a couple years back. He ended up with several broken ribs, a fracture, and a broken leg, but the truck had come into impact with the passenger seat first. His then girlfriend was pronounced dead as soon as the paramedics arrived at the scene.

Perhaps, his most severe wound had been her passing.

The band had gone on hiatus for three months, and Minho didn’t once leave his house during the entire time, except to attend the funeral. And that had been a horrible thing in itself—the freezing cold mask he wore accepting condolences, the ghost that’s followed him ever since.

Lee Minho is the burning house. He’s been in flames ever since he was four years old, and the fire has only grown worse overtime. Hyunjin could only hope he knew how to put himself out before it was too late.

But wasn’t he the same way? Didn’t he also have a time limit—a certain amount of fuck ups before it was game over? What the fuck did he know?

Hyunjin exhaled smoke, nodding at the words his friend had said. “You have to walk through the pitch black darkness, to come through the other side.”

Chan finished his cigarette, shaking his head. “Hyun, he’s fucking drowning. You two are more alike than you think.”

The two boys looked at each other, brown on brown. Hyunjin could see the effort it took for Chan to be this vulnerable about his thoughts—he’s always been the crutch, the lifeboat.

The glue that held everything together.

“Maybe you could pull each other up,” he said, patting Hyunjin’s shoulder, and turning to walk to his room, three doors down.

Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho blind. He mused over the stick between his fingers, slowly turning into ashes, how it would always burn, always reduce itself down to the butt—there was no other outcome, no other way.

Predictable. That’s what Hyunjin was becoming. Inevitable.

He thought of you, and the way your skin felt underneath his own, how your eyes looked up at him with the brightest glint, the angel, the untainted. The holy.

You were probably waiting for him at that bleeding bar, wondering how long until he came back to sweep you off your feet. Tasting him in everything, laying awake panting, dreams of him stuck on your eyelashes. He hoped. He wished.

The damned have their prayers and their credulous hopes.

How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.

What other fucking way does Hwang Hyunjin know, except the dark, thorny one? Except the mud, and the monsters, and the hopeless fight?

There’s only one story for him.

He gets up, knocks on the white door. Pearl Vivienne Westwood earrings greet him, an insouciant Minho blinks at him once, and moves out the way.

Hyunjin enters.

The lighting was dim, atmospheric.

One girl was tied on the headboard, the other on the floor, on her knees waiting, gaze downwards.

Both naked.

Hyunjin momentarily wonders if they were aware of Minho’s sexual preferences. Judging by the girl on the bed, her content face, he decides they probably don’t even care—too happy to be near their favorite idol.

Minho nods over to the vanity desk, thin white lines laid out, a credit card, and a bill next to them. A bottle of whiskey was open, three glasses empty around it.

This was the scene. The car accident, the neon lights, the siren. The death over and over—the self destruction was a suicide. The eventual joining, on the other side.

Hyunjin was familiar with this best of all, because he’d been guilty for it too. Only for him, there would be no rejoicing, no motive. No reason beyond the high.

Minho had moved to the mattress, sitting next to the gagged girl, that had been whimpering and fighting against the restraints. He spoke low to her, almost a whisper; his mouth was sinful, his language filthy.

“How wet is your cunt right now, love? Sprawled like a fucking whore for us. It’s what you wanted, right? To be fucked by a couple rockstars?”

The woman’s thighs rubbed against each other, no doubt aroused by the scenario.

Hyunjin had his eyes set on the submissive one on the floor, though. She had made no move, no sound, ever since he’d entered. She remained perfectly still, deliciously compliant.

He hadn’t used in three weeks. That was a record for him, though he couldn’t entirely put it on himself—everyone’s been micro managing him, monitoring his every move. His phone had been taken from him, all contacts removed.

He hadn’t fought it—he’d actually wanted to give sobriety a try, if for nothing but the sake of the band. But Minho had seen right through him, apparently, had spotted the beast inside Hyunjin, and promised to take care of it.

How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.

Cocaine wasn’t his drug of choice, but anything is food to a starving man. He snorted a line, and rubbed his nose.

Then got close to the girl. Her hair was long and black, a curtain around her face. Hyunjin got on one knee, lifting her chin with his thumb.

Watery eyes stared at him, innocent and willing. Like yours.

“You’re being so quiet, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” he praised, taking in her body.

Perky breasts, tiny figure, hands balled into fists on her thighs. It wouldn’t take long at all—this girl was already broken.

Hyunjin loved broken things. There was no reason to be careful with them, at all. He fisted her hair, inspecting her reaction. She blinked at him, lips parting.

“You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you, pretty girl?”

She nodded weakly, never once breaking eye contact. Oh, she’s fucking done this before alright.

His other hand slapped her cheek, once. Softly, testing the waters. She flinched closer, but there was no pained look, no widening of the eyes. Just plain, unfiltered desire for more.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees,” he ordered, unbuttoning his shirt.

It was a split decision, her mouth opened—

“Can I touch you?” She regretted it as soon as she said it.

The second slap was harder, his palm leaving a red mark on her pale skin. She bit on her lip to keep from crying out, and scurried to get into position, afraid of worse punishment.

Hyunjin had no limit when it came to this—he would take it as far as his partner was willing to go, no second guesses. It was the only thing that gave him control, the only thing that truly gave him pleasure.

Feeling someone physically and mentally submit to him, connecting through inflicting pain on them… he’d been wired that way, it seemed. Violence got him fucking hard, the detachment, the deep emotions of the one receiving—the sweet release. All of it was incredibly arousing.

You had been the only exception, in all his years. With you, he wanted to take his time, defile you slowly, take care of you properly.

You were his angel, untouchable otherwise. You were different.

He pulled this girl by the throat, bringing her back flush against his own naked chest, mouth next to her ear.

“You’re fucking helpless. This is for me, and only me. You better keep fucking quiet, and take it, do you understand?”

She nodded frantically against him.

“Now, what’s your safe word?”

“Burn. It’s burn.”

Burn… This fucking girl.

“A true fan,” Minho commented, amused.

He was fucking the other girl’s mouth, both hands holding her face still. She was struggling to breathe, a slobbering mess, but there was no voice to her.

“I wrote that song, beautiful,” he winked at Hyunjin’s girl, and she blushed, before going back down, position resumed, lesson learned.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he slapped her ass.

Sliding two fingers in her cunt, he found it soaking wet. Cursing, he fucked her like that for a while, making sure she’d keep to her word and make no noise. Her face was pressed against the carpet, arms barely holding her up.

He grabbed them, holding them behind her back, and removed his fingers. She clenched around the loss, juices running down her milky thighs.

What a fucking slut.

Hyunjin entered her roughly, using her arms to get deeper inside. She screamed, and then apologized immediately, her whole body tensing up, waiting for punishment.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he groaned, drilling into her, “to keep fucking quiet?!”

The girl on the bed was crying by this point, Minho relentlessly pounding her ass, hands still tied, a black scarf covering her eyes. It was like he was deaf to her screams, not present, as his movements quickened, her knees giving way, falling flat on her face, and yet never once shutting the fuck up.

Hyunjin glanced at his friend once, noticing the stoic expression, the hard lines of his mouth. He wasn’t there mentally, he was dissociating. It was what usually happened when Minho was high—he had no restraints, no way to stop, not unless he got what he wanted.

“Get on the bed,” he pulled his girl’s hair, slipping out of her.

She tripped, but did as told. He circled an arm around her waist and placed her right next to the moaning myrtle. The need to gag her was overwhelming, but Hyunjin knew Minho left her like that on purpose. To block his mind; static noise.

He slammed back inside her, cunt now a sloppy mess, lifting her legs over his head. Holding them with one hand, he fucked her brutally, exorcising the thought of you.

Minho stopped, as if awakening suddenly. The girl came hard, spasming violently. He pulled her up by the throat, and bit her shoulder.

“Join them. Let me see you.”

The two women started kissing, completely fucked out, while Hyunjin continued his pounding—close, so fucking close. Eyes shut, you’re there, a vision in black, red all around, getting fucked by him against a wall, like a fucking whore.

His whore. Hyunjin holds you up, your cunt heaven, a church he build to hide inside, praying to your name on his knees. Important, bigger than life, your half naked frame filling his mind, driving him over the edge.

“Burn! Burn! Fucking burn, fuck!”

He spilled inside her, growling, head falling on her stomach. She shook him off, pulling away, wrapping her arms around her knees, exhausted, tears streaming down her face.

You’d hate him for this. But you didn’t understand, yet. He’d make sure you never found out.

“All yours,” he says to Minho, getting off the bed.

“Don’t be scared, kitten,” Minho reasoned with her. “You didn’t think we’d go easy on you, did you?”

Hyunjin quickly slipped into his pants, remaining shirtless. He saw as Minho tamed both women, his voice level and soothing. It’d be a long night.

Pouring himself a drink, he downed it in one go, lines tempting him again. But he could already feel his high, and he really could care less about cocaine, so he left, right as Minho took out a vibrator—

Kinky motherfucker.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Minho called out to him, as the door clicked shut.

For the first time in his life, Hyunjin listened.

Back in his room, he showered off the sex smell, and sat by the window smoking, clad in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms.

He thought of you. Your scent, your soft hands, the way you reached for him. The way he’d scared you by attacking that scum. It’d been too long since then, and his need to see you, to touch you, only grew stronger.

But his life was a golden cage, and he remained a prisoner. Hyunjin had the least freedom of them all, and he had nothing but his addictions to blame.

Grabbing his guitar, he played through random notes, smoke burning his eyes. His fingers settled over a strumming pattern, and he repeated it, a faint melody coming together.

Hyunjin went through it again, and again, building on it, the music descending on his heart, painful and familiar. Reminiscent of the way you said his name.

He hummed along, and where lyrics failed, they now came to him freely, devastating.

‘I tried counting

Her smiling pain…’

He shot up from his seat, cigarette long forgotten, hanging limply from his mouth, and run out of the room, two doors down. Chan’s door was always open, because he never fucking slept.

He was in front of his equipment, free styling on the keyboard, when Hyunjin burst in and stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear.

Chan squinted up at him. “Are you high?”

Hyunjin shook his head, guitar in hand. “Never mind that. I got us the title track.”

At that, the silver haired boy’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his seat, intrigued.

“No shit. Never thought I’d see the day, Hyun.”

It was true. Hyunjin never wrote songs—there’d never been anything inspiring, until he met you. And he was so sure of you, his brave girl, so enamored by what you showed him, by what he felt.

“It’s called Knife.”

Chan gestured for him to sit on the bed. “Let’s hear it.”

Hyunjin played.

It was a bit past four in the morning, when Minho’s groupies left. Disheveled, and bruised, shoes in hand, they tiptoed to the elevator like thieves, giggling to themselves.

Hyunjin and Chan were taking a break out in the hall, and watched as they let out similar high pitched screams when they noticed them there.

The black haired one screamed, “I love you Bang Chan!” She looked drunk.

Chan chuckled, waving at her. “What’d he do to them?”

“You want the politically correct answer to that?” Hyunjin asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Never mind.”

They both looked down at the lobby, and met the security guard’s gaze, as the two women passed by him. He probably thought, fucking rockstars, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want, and he’d be right.

Sometimes they did the most excessive shit for the hell of it. Money and fame gave them the right to do so. What was a hotel’s security guard going to do about it?

Look the other way. They all did.

“What the fuck are you looking at, asshole?” Chan provoked him.

Hyunjin smirked, elbows resting on the railing, letting the scene unroll before him.

“Go back to your rooms,” the guard told him, scowling.

Chan scoffed, laughing humorlessly. “And what if we don’t, tough guy? Are you gonna spank us?”

At that, Hyunjin snorted. Chan had the worst temper of the four, and he loved getting riled up. Shit talking was his favorite pastime, only second to making music.

They had only gotten kicked out of a hotel twice before; once when Minho’s birthday orgy got out of control, and then back when they first became well known, for vandalism. That’d been Hyunjin’s fault—he’d been high as a fucking kite, and decided trashing his room and knocking on every door of his floor, screaming lyrics from their debut song was a great idea.

He got arrested for private nuisance, and fined three thousand dollars for destroying property. He’d barely made it to their first concert in America, and Joon was mad at him for a month after that.

He hoped this wouldn’t be the third, but did nothing to prevent it from happening.

The guy talked in his walkie-talkie, no doubt requesting back up. Hyunjin doubted he’d need extra men, but then again, Chan was known to be unpredictable when messed with.

“What a little bitch. Do you need me to show you, fuckface? Have you ever properly fucked a woman before?”

The receptionist came into view, looking up at them. “Sir, I advise you to calm down, or we’ll have to call the police. Please go back to your rooms, or you’ll be escorted out of the premises.”

Right on time, Minho and Felix came out, curious faces staring at their band mates. Hyunjin sighed, tugging on Chan’s sleeve.

“Do you really have to start shit, Bang? This hotel’s been pretty flexible with us.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Felix asked, rubbing his eyes, looking down at the lobby.

“I’m calling Joon. Chan, fucking calm it, before we’re front page news again,” Minho warned, opening his flip phone.

Chan hit Hyunjin in the back, taking a deep breath, and nodding at Minho.

“You’re right. But let me just—fuck you!” He shouted to the guard, a maniacal smile on his lips.

“Okay, I’m done. Fuck, that felt good.”

Felix laughed, following him to his room. “Fucking Bang Chan…”

Hyunjin stayed behind with Minho, who was on the phone with their manager, explaining the situation.

“So much for laying low,” Hyunjin mocked Chan’s words from earlier that month.

Minho smirked. “We’re Velvet fucking Opiate, doll face. We don’t lay low.”

The blonde smirked back, and put his arm around the older’s shoulders. “Sounds about fucking right, honey.”

“I wrote a song, by the way!”

“About fucking time. We all just thought you’d be a pretty face forever.”

“Fuck you, Lee.”

“Next foursome, doll.”

A week later, the new publication for ‘Nicola’ magazine was out. It was the go to for every teenager in Japan, and Velvet Opiate had been a regular issue on their pages, mainly for their fashion appearances, and hot gossip.

This time it was the latter.

The title read as such: ‘Velvet Opiate fans confess—we slept with the band! EXCLUSIVE’

“Guys!” Joon yelled, reading through the article anxiously.

The band gathered around their manager, peaking at the magazine, curious.

“Fuck,” all four collectively exclaimed.

They were in deep shit.

#ficscafe #straykidsland #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #kpop smut #mine.

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boo-tycall · 3 years ago

Text

So.....This is Love?(2)

Summary: (Y/n) had realized early on that the abuse he had endured through childhood had done more damage than just physical. His inability to properly express his emotions. Lacking proper social skills. On top of that, unable to maintain his friends. And for about three years in the Demon Slayer Corp, that's what he had known. And he assumed that's all he'd ever have.

Through it all though, one fire burned consistently. A leader who did nothing but care for him. And although his childhood had caused such damage, he knew that with Master Kyojuro's help....he’d begin his healing.

Genre: Romance || Angst || Action

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male! Reader

Rating: Rated M

A/N: Be warned there will be spoilers from the anime.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of physical abuse, depression, self harm, attempted s*icide. Please read with caution.

'Inhale'

'Exhale'

'Inhale'

(Y/n) opened his eyes, before placing his hand on the ground.

'Exhale'

He thought, allowing his senses to focus instantly.

In a single moment, he could see it. Through every root, every weed, and every blade of grass for miles without end he could see as clear as day.

"4 Demons, two miles east. I suggest we move." His teacher uttered plainly.

(Y/n) rolled his eyes, knowing his teacher would do that. He was always like that.

"Show-off." (Y/n) muttered under his breath, but he knew full well that his teacher could hear him. (Y/n) did not want to stick around too long. Just get the job done and leave.

This is all they did for the past 3 years. After passing the Selection exam, everything became even more rigorous. Combining missions and training becomes a daily thing for a tsuguko.

But becoming Giyuu's tsuguko was never in (Y/n)'s plan. No, it was all his.

Master Kyojuro, that is.

Soon after his time in the Butterfly Mansion, light on what exactly Rengoku had in mind for him slowly came about. Starting with the arrival of the Water Hashira.

"So....You're (Y/ln) (Y/n)? You're smaller than i had first assumed."

He could remember those words like they were flatly delivered yesterday. But no, it had been years since then. But everytime Master Giyuu would say something, that moment would always come back to (Y/n).

"If you're to surpass me, you'll need to be a little faster than that." Giyuu announced as they jumped between the branches and trees.

(Y/n) grit his teeth, speeding up to catch up. Master must still be upset with what he had told him earlier.

"Master, i am sorry but i cannot continue under your tutorage. I wish to continue as a Demon Slayer, but i would like to have time to hone my skills independently." (Y/n) explained, kneeling in front of Giyuu.

"Is that so?" He asked, turning with a flail of his Haori, a stoic expression across his face. As usual.

"Tell me, (Y/n), do you think I've taught you everything?" Giyuu asked sternly, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh..."

"No. I haven't. Because you are not ready. You can barely withstand up to the 9th form. There is so much you have yet to do and you want to waste it?" He explained, restraining any feeling of frustration. Instead, he released a warm breathe as he relaxed.

(Y/n) kept his head down as he listened.

Master was right.

Giyuu sighed, "If i fall in battle tomorrow, i need you to be ready. Humanity needs you to be ready, and you won't be if you slack off. Even for a year, a month or a single day. Hell, not even an hour can be wasted." Giyuu stated flatly, turning away.

"Have i made myself clear?" He concluded sternly.

"Yes Sir." (Y/n) replied softly before standing, hiding the shake in his fists behind him.

If ever he is to take his place one day, he needed to be ready. He needed to at least know all 10 forms. Not that he didn't study and train everyday like crazy but....with the style of training Giyuu has put him through, much of it reminded him of someone else who used to drive him into the dirt.

Someone he thought he would never have to encounter again. But (Y/n) knew, deep in his hardened heart, that even Master Giyuu could never hold a candle to his cruelty.

As his mind drifted, (Y/n) found himself pausing at the sensation of something moving below them. Giving Giyuu the chance to move forward without realizing his student's disappearance.

(Y/n) looked down, and sure enough, a small child was under his tree. Crying.

But something didn't feel right. Something about the way she was shaking the tree as she shook from her sobs. It made him feel uneasy. (Y/n) couldn't only sense it but also smell it.

That was no child.

With a soft tap, (Y/n) stepped down into the dirt, causing the child to look up at him, her mouth covered in blood. But (Y/n) only gave her a cold gaze.

'Close your heart' (Y/n) thought.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me!" The child cried, causing (Y/n) to sigh. But from the way this child looked and smelled, even it had devoured a human or two.

"Then don't struggle and I'll make this quick." (Y/n) replied coldly before placing his hand on his swords hilt.

Just as a Demon does, the child changed instantly. Their sad, helpless expression twisting into a snarl.

But (Y/n) wasn't having any of it. Just as the child went to stand, (Y/n) simply released a breath.

"Water Breathing: First Form" (Y/n) muttered softly as he stepped out, and as the child lunged, (Y/n) drew his sword and slashed once, severing the child's head.

"Water Surface Slash"

(Y/n) whipped his blade, clearing it of the blood before sheathing it. It was over in only a few seconds.

'One down' (Y/n) thought before sensing another presence. From above.

"Fuck" He muttered as he glanced up into the trees, a stern looking Giyuu gazing down.

"Alright, Alright I'm coming" (Y/n) groaned, jumping up into the tree next to Giyuu. Giyuu gave him a nasty, passive aggressive side eye but said nothing before going on ahead.

'That was a demon and yet he's pissed. Can't keep the man happy for anything.' (Y/n) thought bitterly as he followed behind him in silence.

It would be at least another 20 minutes before they arrived to the edge of a large field, blades of grass flowing loosely from the nights gusts of wind. It was vast and severely exposed, with the only shelter being the large blades of grass, the moon being their only light.

And yet even in this tranquility, (Y/n) could smell the demons. But he couldn't see anything. This made (Y/n) smirk as he looked over at his master, opening his mouth to say something.

"No" Giyuu sternly stated, knowing full well what (Y/n) would say. He wanted to use his new technique.

"What?! But...M-Master this is exactly what my technique is used for!" (Y/n) exclaimed, his frustration clear in his voice.

But Giyuu only stepped out into the field without another word, leaving (Y/n) fuming.

Time and time again, Giyuu effectively would break (Y/n)'s self esteem. What little that he had at least. But at the same time, Giyuu knew from experience, that pain, suffering, hatred, that can drive a Demon Slayer from being simply a student to a Hashira.

But then again..... A fellow Hashira had offered him some advice when he first received (Y/n).

'Be gentle, he has suffered enough. The boy has had enough pain in him to last his whole lifetime. I do not mean be easy. But be....a teacher, not his worse enemy.'

"Why not focus on your basic skills? I have yet to see you use the tenth form in combat." Giyuu stated plainly. (Y/n) felt a small bead of sweat begin to form on his brow.

Ah...yes....the Tenth Form.

"N-Now?"

"No, tomorrow." Giyuu replied. Even though (Y/n) knew he was being sarcastic, he still couldn't help but narrow his eyes in confusion at the male.

"Yes, of course now. Why would I suggest it if i wanted you to do it some other time?" Giyuu asked, looking over his shoulder with a raised brow, completely unamused. (Y/n) could feel a vein pop out on his forehead as he drew his blade.

But he didn't say anything as he stepped out into the field, anger and frustration burning in his eyes. Any lower ranked Demon Slayer would find his actions reckless as he strode into the depths of the field.

But (Y/n) wasn't a mizunoto, kanoe, or anything of the sort.

He doesn't even need to try hard to feel the ground in front of him shift as two demons, like wild encroaching weeds, sprouted from the ground. Drool seeped from their teeth, their stench of death could have given them away even to a junior, well....above ground that is.

Four pairs of claws came straight for him, but (Y/n) only clenched his jaw tight.

"Water Breathing, 8th form:"

'Humanity needs you to be ready....'

Those words echoed in (Y/n)'s head as he released a breath, before he dodged both demons. The two blinked in confusion, losing sight of him. They both growled and looked at each other.

"Don't waste time, (Y/n). What are you doing?" Giyuu called out from the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched critically.

A soft tap was heard behind the two demons, alerting them of (Y/n)'s presence.

'Calm yourself' (Y/n) thought. He couldn't complete his technique if he was riled up. He needed to relax.

The two demons did not hesitate, turning and lunging at (Y/n). The male turned his blade toward them, but as his focus remained on them, he just misses the two hands coming from the earth gripping his ankles into the ground.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock, glancing down for a moment to see the hands.

He grit his teeth again, unable to contain his frustration. He inhaled before releasing a hot breathe.

"Water Breathing: 9th form - Splashing Water Flow"

Without another thought, he dragged his blade with all the force he could. He easily sliced the two demons, catching them both by the neck as he continued to swing. The blade moved like a raging tide with ease, but (Y/n) did not halt. He raised his blade once more and stabbed it into the earth between his legs.

A scream was heard as a female demon's face emerged from the dirt, her claws releasing (Y/n)'s ankles. (Y/n)'s blade only missing her face by a few inches.

"You brat!" The female cried out, her voice sounding similar to that of claws dragging on a chalk board. (Y/n) wasted no time as he jumped away, putting some distance between himself and the demon. She seemed different from the other two.

"Ew. You're uglier than i thought." (Y/n) commented flatly, making the female demon growl in anger before she lunged. But (Y/n) did not give her a chance as he sighed, "Water Breathing: 10th Form"

Again, in a flash the male was gone. But the female demon wasn't quite as inept as the other two. She dug into the ground, hiding once more. Clearly, the earth was her domain.

But, all demons are the same. Predictable. Only out to serve themselves. And even underground, no Demon was safe from him.

Taking a large leap, (Y/n) found himself at least 25 feet in the air. 'This should be enough' (Y/n) thought as he changed his bodies position, bringing his sword up and over his head.

"Constant Flux!!" (Y/n) cried out as he fell, slamming his blade into the earth, splitting the field in half perfectly.

Giyuu stood unfazed, even as dirt and once healthy grass was uprooted and thrown everywhere.

As the dust cleared, (Y/n) stood panting. He had created a large gap, in it was the female demon, her body crushed to mush. Still, (Y/n) knew just as well as Giyuu, that she was not dead. At least not yet.

Her body began to move, convulsing as she attempted to regenerate. But (Y/n) walked over to her.

"Y-You'll regret this! Grrrr, you disgusting brat! So many young lives i could have eaten, so many I'll be missing out on! Because of you shitty little-"

"You're the disgusting beast here." (Y/n) replied coldly as he cast his gaze on the demon, startling it. But a new shadow seemed to loom over his eyes - Anger.

"So shut the hell up and die already." (Y/n) calmly stated before bringing his blade down once more, stabbing it between the demons eyes.

She screamed as her head disintegrated into dust, finally ending her.

(Y/n) could feel his chest tightening, making it difficult to catch his breathe. That last move took a lot out of him, yet he still couldn't execute it properly.

"I don't think you need me to tell you what you could have done better." Giyuu commented, having moved instantly from the sidelines to (Y/n)'s side. His crow was obediently perched on his shoulder.

The boy pulled his sword out from the ground where the demon's body was and silently sheathed it.

The fatigue washed over him ten-fold as he released a soft sigh, causing him to stumble back a bit. Giyuu raised an arm, catching the male.

(Y/n) stood up quickly, wiping his brow with his sleeve before fixing his uniform awkwardly. "Ah Yes, I know. M-My apologies Master Tomioka." (Y/n) quickly spout.

Giyuu sighed before turning around, "Come on, let's go." He replied simply, walking in the direction they came. (Y/n) stood still for a moment, unsure of how to feel.

Well....at least he was still standing. If he can stand...

'If you can stand, you can walk!'

An angry voice boomed in the back of his head, making him move from his spot, keeping close to Master Giyuu.

Before he gets too close, Giyuu whispers something to the crow before releasing it.

"A new mission?" (Y/n) asked, moving to walk directly next to his master. Even if it did ache. But all he needed to do was regulate his breathing and relax his muscles and he'd recover.

"No. We need to pay someone a visit." Giyuu replied simply.

"Another Master?" (Y/n) continued, but Giyuu gave him a glance that simply said 'enough'. Something (Y/n) had learned to pick up on over the years. Master Giyuu had always been mysterious, which helped reenforce (Y/n)'s own silent and stern exterior, even if it still was a work in progress.

They quietly continued their trek, an undisclosed location being their end goal.

It wouldn't be until the next day that they would arrive to their destination around night fall. (Y/n) had to admit, he was more than a bit fatigued.

Still, he did not show it. It was not his place to show weakness. Especially not on a mission and especially not in front of his Master.

As they walked through the quiet Village, (Y/n) could not help but look around. It was very nice, whoever they were visiting must be of wealth or high status. It wasn't uncommon for Demon Slayers to be rented by the wealthy to look after their estate should they see it necessary. Still....it would be out of place to hire a Hashira and Tsuguko together. Especially in a place where he sensed no demons.

Giyuu stopped at an entrance, the wooden doors shut, but Giyuu simply knocked three times and waited.

"Who....are we here to see?" (Y/n) asked, looking all over the gate for some sort of family inscription. But there was none.

Before Giyuu could answer, the wooden gate slowly opened, revealing a small boy with bright gold and red eyes, his hair blonde with fiery red tips. (Y/n) could feel his breathe catch in his throat as his eyes widened slightly. Still, he did not say anything.

Where....has he seen this boy?

"Good Evening Senjuro, is your brother home?" Giyuu asked softly, far more gently than (Y/n) had ever heard him speak.

The boy gave him a small smile, shaking his head. "No, but he will be soon. I've received news from his crow already. Come inside Master Tomioka and...." The boy finally spared his gaze to (Y/n) who bowed politely.

"(Y/ln) (Y/n). Pleased to make your acquaintance young Senjuro." (Y/n) politely replied, earning a brighter grin from the boy.

"I am so happy to finally meet you. I'm sure my brother will be just, if not, more elated to see you." The boy replied, opening the gate further to allow the two males in.

'His brother?' (Y/n) thought. As he walked in and looked around, he immediately was taken aback by the beautiful garden, fire Lillie's everywhere, and a lovely mansion home. Who...on earth....

'I-It....can't be.'

(Y/n) felt a cold sweat begin to run down his face as pieces started to fall into place. The fact that Master Giyuu hadn't told him where they were going, This boy's familiar appearance....

"M-Master Tomioka?" (Y/n) spoke as calmly as he could but still could not contain a stutter as he gently poked Giyuu's shoulder.

"Yes?" He replied.

"This....This wouldn't happen to be Master Rengoku's estate, is it?" (Y/n) asked. Although his voice remained still, the panic was clear in his eyes.

"Yes, it is." Senjuro chirped from behind him, making (Y/n) jump. But the boy only giggled, "My apologies! I did not mean to frighten you!"

(Y/n) shook his head, giving the boy a small, yet embarrassed smile. "N-No, No, do not apologize. Heh...I-I'm a nervous person by nature."

Senjuro walked ahead of them, still smiling apologetically as he lead them into what looked to be a tea room.

"My brother lives here, but he rarely stays home ever since he's become a Hashira." Senjuro explained.

"I-I see.....It must be hard for you to have your brother be away so often." (Y/n) replied softly, earning a shocked gaze from the boy. It melted away quickly as he chuckled sadly.

"Yes. It is. But i know that my brother is doing what he loves and he is protecting people. So long as he is happy, i am too." The boy replied as he pulled back a door.

"Please excuse me, i will return with tea and dinner." Senjuro bowed politely before sliding the door shut, leaving (Y/n) with Giyuu in silence.

"You....are so mean." The words simply fell out without a second thought, but (Y/n) knew it wasn't that big of a deal. Because the conversation was always worth the oxygen when it meant he'd get small but sharp shots to the males own self-esteem.

"I am not." Giyuu replied, crossing his arms as he sat on a pillow near the table.

"You didn't warn me that we were coming to see him? I haven't seen him since.....since back then. Why is it that he has called for us to come now?" (Y/n) explained, his brows knitting tightly together from the stress.

"I'm not sure. He has asked me before to let you come visit, but i just haven't felt like bringing you." Giyuu replied flatly.

"WHAT!?" (Y/n) barked, shocked at this sudden confession.

Giyuu raised a brow in confusion. "Do not yell, it's improper." Giyuu warned, making (Y/n) put both hands over his face, covering the expression of pure rage.

Instead, as if a dry towel to white board, his hands drug down his face as he wiped as much of that expression away as he could.

There was no use arguing with him, he'd just give vague answers. Besides, as his student, he must assume he had some reason. So instead, (Y/n) balled his fists as he finally plopped down on the pillow next to Giyuu.

As he did, Senjuro tapped gently on the door to announce himself before stepping in carrying a tray with cups, a pot of freshly brewed tea, and some pieces of mochi and rice buns.

"I hope hibiscus tea isn't too bad?" Senjuro asked, earning a smile from (Y/n). This boy really, REALLY looked a lot like his brother. It was so shocking to see the exact same face only with the personality and volume turned down a couple notches.

"I've never had it before, Thank you very much." (Y/n) replied. Senjuro placed porcelain cups down and quietly poured the glasses of tea before sliding them to the two males.

Once again, Senjuro slid past the door, running to attend to a few other things.

The silence was suffocating, (Y/n) mentally noted as he reached out and grabbed a pink mochi. He took a whiff of it before biting into it. Inside was sakura cream with sweet potato paste.

"Woah...." (Y/n) audibly commented, blinking in shock from the amount of sweet within the treat. He reached out for his tea, gently blowing on it before sipping. The semi-sweet and bitter taste of the hibiscus definitely helped tone down the sweetness just subtly.

"Can i try?" Giyuu asked no one in particular. (Y/n) was the only one in the room so, he answered.

"Of course Master. Try this one." (Y/n) replied, grabbing another mochi the same colour as his.

Giyuu took it in his hand before doing as (Y/n), taking a whiff before biting into it. Immediately his face scrunched up, making (Y/n) furrow his brows at him in confusion.

"No way you don't like it." (Y/n) commented, making Giyuu hand him the mochi.

"It's....far sweeter than i had imagined." Giyuu replied. But (Y/n) only narrowed his eyes in disapproval at the male before eating his own mochi bun.

"Poor Senjuro must have put so much work into making these..." (Y/n) muttered between chewing before taking a sip of his tea once more.

"He is very talented at cooking, so it's only natural that he work hard at it!" A familiar voice boomed from behind the door, causing (Y/n) to spit out his tea in shock.

As if to add insult to injury, it actually managed to reach the wall splattering red liquid onto the beautiful paper.

The door flew open revealing a beaming Rengoku. (Y/n) quickly wiped his face with his sleeve before bowing, head to the ground and hands politely folded in front of him.

"You don't need to yell Rengoku, we are within ear shot." Giyuu replied simply as he reached out to grab his own tea, sipping it without a second thought.

"My apologies for startli-"

Rengoku began to speak but his gaze fell on (Y/n) who quietly remained in his position. "Uh....You do not need to do that, my friend." Rengoku explained, stepping into the room and kneeling in front of the male.

But, he was quick to notice the boys shaking and shivering.

"Are you alright?" Rengoku asked with concern, placing a hand on the boys head. The male finally looked up, tears filling his eyes.

Rengoku's eyes widened, shock clear in those gold and red orbs.

"M-Master Rengoku...i-it's....it's good...." The boy could hardly form words, his emotions too overwhelming to contain.

Elation, despair, amazement, admiration, and frustration all blending together at once and even those words were not enough to describe his feelings. Combined with his exhaustion and the frustration he had been feeling, it all became too much at the sight of his friend. Rengoku didn't hesitate to bring the boy into his embrace, smiling kindly.

"It is good to see you as well, (Y/n)." Rengoku replied, chuckling as he spared a glance at Giyuu. Even the master was moved, his expression more sad than usual. Glancing away as Rengoku cast his gaze on him.

(Y/n) hid his face in the males shoulder, biting back more sobs but Rengoku's embrace only tightened. "I am most pleased to see you doing so well. You have become much stronger since i last saw you. I could not be prouder!" Rengoku boomed, causing (Y/n)'s eyes to widen in his own shock.

'Of what? You're not even strong enough to hold the tenth form for long. You're crying like a helpless baby in front of a powerful Hashira. He should be ashamed.'

A voice boomed angrily in the back of (Y/n)'s head, threatening to cause more tears. The boy finally brought his arms up, gripping tightly on Rengoku's uniform.

'but he is'

Another, softer, warmer voice called from his head, making him finally crack a smile. Rengoku gently pulled the boy away, that warm gaze and gentle smile all directed towards him. It was enough to make his heart skip, if he could say that.

"And i am happy to welcome you to my home. I have wanted to bring you for some time. Though, i can understand that you and Master Tomioka have been diligently dedicated to your training. As i have been myself." Rengoku used his thumb, as he had done a few years ago, and carefully pushed (Y/n)'s tears out from under his eyes.

"Cease your tears, you should feel happy and safe here. I did not invite you to cause you more despair." Rengoku chirped happily which infectiously caused (Y/n)'s small smile to grow, his sobs now ceasing.

"Well....i hope that worked up your appetite."

Giyuu finally commented sarcastically, earning a laugh from (Y/n). Master Giyuu hadn't ever seen him so emotional, so his reaction being so nonchalant didn't surprise (Y/n) at all.

It was his own way of showing that he too was affected by the change in mood. But Rengoku's cheer was like fire to kindling, lighting the room once again with his smile.

"I am certainly starving! And my brother has made us my favorite, so please, stay for dinner?" He pointedly asked, gazing down at the male. But (Y/n) did not reply, instead he turned his own gaze to his Master.

"I believe you have invited us for more than just dinner, yes?" Giyuu replied simply, taking a light sip of his tea.

"Ah yes! I have business to discuss with you both, but first....let us settle down. I'm sure you are both tired from your journey here." Rengoku replied cheerfully as he pat (Y/n)'s head, ruffling his hair thoroughly.

"We are, Master Rengoku. We appreciate your hospitality, truly." (Y/n) finally croaked. Rengoku chuckled softly as he scooted to the other side of the table.

"My home is always welcome to you (Y/n). You are my friend after all."

At that moment, a gentle knock was made at the sliding door before revealing Senjuro, a tray with steaming bowls of food in his hands.

"Ah....I-I hope i am not interrupting-"

"You aren't Senjuro, you're right on time." Rengoku replied, his brother nodding as he stepped into the room and began to place the food on the table.

"i see...you didn't eat the sweets. Too much sakura cream or perhaps the mochi was not quite soft enough?" Senjuro asked with a smile.

(Y/n) momentarily gasped before snatching one mochi and shoving it in his mouth before grabbing another, looking over at Giyuu with a gleam that intimidated even him. As if saying, 'Eat it or die.'

The male grabbed a mochi as well, quietly eating it. Holding back any sign that he was disgusted by the sweetness.

(Y/n) finally beamed, "They are delicious Senjuro, thank you very much."

Senjuro blushed in embarrassment, "Y-You do not need to force yourself...You still have dinner after all."

Now it was (Y/n)'s time to feel embarrassed. "ah..." He chuckled softly as he looked at the dinner.

Rengoku chuckled lowly, adoring the way the boy had developed. Full of personality and life even after all he had been through. It truly filled his heart with pride.

"G-Good idea. Dessert for after." (Y/n) replied cheerfully, his mood now much brighter than before.

He had even made Senjuro laugh.

Giyuu silently placed his mochi, now having been bitten once, back on the tray with a sigh of relief.

"Good, well then i hope everyone enjoys. I will be dining with my father, if you will excuse me." Senjuro explained, giving a polite bow, but not before having his brother ruffle up his hair playfully.

"Enjoy your dinner Senjuro, we shall catch up later." Rengoku replied cheerfully, making his brother grin as well.

"Okay!" He exclaimed happily before leaving.

It seemed like everything he did, every glance he'd spare and every smile he'd give was infectious with joy and happiness. It was admirable, (Y/n) noted.

'I wish I was like that...'

He thought silently, but the smile on his face showed clearly how he felt. In all the excitement, hardly anyone had noticed the now dripping tea from the wall to the floor.

#/gags/#so much emotion went into this #hopefully y'all like it ><#Chapter 2 #Kyojuro Rengoku x male reader #rengoku x reader #mlm #Demon Slayer #kimetsu no yaiba x male reader #kimetsu no yaiba #fanfiction #gay shit

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