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samaraxmorgan · 2 months

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#he’s such a pain in the ass I love him sm #also pls lmk if there’s any tagging issues!! I’ve never had a taglist this long before #nav ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen Sukuna #Sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #my writing #roommate Sukuna au

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justaz · 4 months

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merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.

arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.

#arthur absolutely checks him out every time he walks out in it #every ten seconds hes looking away from his guests and staring at merlin #merlin only realizes about half the time #that hes staring. not that he’s checking him out.#arthur noticed the few nobles staring at merlin like a hot piece of ass #he keeps merlin in his chambers with a list of chores to complete #it keeps him busy until the visiting noble is gone #arthur desperately wants merlin to wear the damn tunic to get the nobles to back off #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #THAT FUCKING PURPLE TUNIC LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREE #WHAT WAS THE REASON #i hc merlins favorite color is purple bc out in ealdor he was surroubded by green brown and beige #with the occasional red from the blood of livestock #but when the sun went down after a long day and he and will lay out in the field behind his moms house #he’d see the rich violet of the sky and fall in love #but since yknow peasant boy he can only afford red and blue clothing so thats what he gets #hc #head canon #headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #fic idea

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xxlady-lunaxx · 6 months

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Unspoken affection | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: FLUFF

Note: i, for the first time, will see if I can try writing this as if it wasn't a oneshot meaning they won't already like each other bc it'll end up like 3 words if they do

A sprinkle of ObaMitsu

I started this Feb. 23, apparently 😭 mar.29 when i finished ;;

×××

Giyuu had been one of the first Hashira. The third, in fact. After Tengen and Gyomei.

He gotten along well with them, although... 'getting along' were relative words. More so, they tolerated each other. Giyuu didn't really talk much, opted to stay silent. Gyomei was comfortable with that and Tengen appeared not to mind because, though he was very talkative, he preferred when it was quieter as his hearing was sensitive.

So, Giyuu got along with the Hashira, mostly. Kanae came along sometime later. She was very cheerful and the polar opposite of Giyuu, but she was kind and didn't mind his quietness. He found that he didn't mind her presence much, albeit he still acted the same.

And then Sanemi arrived.

He was like the disruption of the peace created within the Hashira. It was irritating.

When he went to his first meeting, he had erupted in anger at Kagaya and had been shouting at him. It was loud. And then, after the meeting had ended, the other Hashira had berated him for this.

Giyuu had stood by the side, deciding not to meddle with Sanemi. If he was always going to be an... explosive pomeranian, Giyuu should steer clear from this man.

Which was what he did. Mostly.

But it became obvious that it wouldn't be very easy when Sanemi decided to start bothering Giyuu, pestering him about being so quiet and unanswering. Normally, Giyuu would've ignored these irksome questions, but Sanemi was annoyingly persistant. And so, so very loud. Which was why he worked up the courage to respond, only to be talked over.

And thus began Giyuu's hate for Sanemi.

×××

When Sanemi had first become a Hashira, he had found himself in an almost feverish state. He was constantly tired and worked almost like a robot, doing things as if he had been programmed to. There were few times he felt like he could escape that, feel actually human again.

He found anger was a nice fuel of humanity to him, so he took it out on others, reveling at the feeling of temporary normalcy that came with it. It went away quickly and silence often brought back his numb, robotic state back, so he snapped at nearly everybody, making himself rather loathed personality-wise.

He didn't mind, not really. The only person he could care about what they thought of him was Masachika. And he was dead. So it really did not matter.

There was one Hashira whom he had decided to bother more than the others. Giyuu Tomioka, the Water Hashira. He was a really quiet person, rarely responding or speaking unless necessary. Because of Giyuu's ignorance, Sanemi found himself hovering around him more, feeling almost refreshed when immediate mirrored anger wasn't repelled back at him. It was annoying, of course. But annoyance meant he could feel. And feeling meant being... as okay as he could be.

Giyuu spoke only a couple times to him in response. Four, to be exact. His voice was quiet and collected, but a hint of irritation could be detected if you really paid attention. He was an interesting person, so full of mysteries and so closed off. Something else, besides his unbroken silence, drew Sanemi in. Like an old box in the far corner of the house, waiting to be opened and explored, except nobody was allowed to open it. Nobody was willing to, either. As if afraid something horrid would come out. Albeit it looked innocent on the outside, there was the small chance it would be filled with something terrible. To the point that even the box itself feared it's own being and refused to open up.

But Sanemi was curious.

Time flew on as usual—it never did stop, not for anyone or anything—and Sanemi grew less mechanical, more human. He found himself able to make skips in his usual schedule, able to live a bit more freely, despite his tightly programmed daily life.

He would use his occasional free time to wander around. He rarely actually spoke to anyone, only giving or following orders, occasionally engaging in small talk with some of the Hashira. But other than that, he kept to himself.

He was curious about Giyuu, however, which brought a bit of searching into his free time.

He would walk around, down random paths, looking for new places. Giyuu was one of the few Hashira's houses whom nobody knew where it was. Kanae's was free for anyone's knowledge, given that it was used for nursing people back to health often. Tengen invited the Hashira to his house from now and then, Kyojuro—who had become a Hashira recently—wasn't closed off about sharing and, though he didn't display it to the world, he did tell people if they asked.

Even Sanemi's, a select few knew.

But Giyuu's.

Giyuu's was only known to his crow, at this point, as he usually declined giving the knowledge to anyone. And something about that was peculiar to Sanemi. Like, what if there was an emergency? Would Giyuu simply live with the fact that whatever could happen might happen because nobody knew where he lived?

Although, it wasn't the worst thing possible, it was just something that set Giyuu aside from the others.

There was a lot that separated the Hashira from each other, of course. But Giyuu had something else that just... caught Sanemi's eye. Over and over again.

×××

Giyuu found himself growing more and more distant with the Hashira with each passing day. They already kept to themselves mostly, none of their schedules really overlapping, so it wasn't much different. But he started to avoid more so than mind his own business.

As the years past, more Hashira joined. Giyuu didn't feel connected to them, didn't feel like he could be like any of them. It was noticeable. And some of the Hashira tried to include him.

Although, include was a relative word. Some of them were kinder with it, but there were obviously those who were more... forceful. Like Sanemi.

Sanemi was, and had been since the day he'd became a Hashira, one of the most—or the most—irritating Hashira. He seemed apt to making Giyuu's life feel like that of a rat being chased by a cat, but not as life-threatening. Unless you counted going insane as life threatening.

One day, Sanemi had gone up to Giyuu—somehow having found him as he finished training somewhere in the clearing of a forest.

"Oi, Tomioka," he shouted, over the rush of water. There was a river, a loud one at that, that cut through the forest and skimmed along the edge of the field that Giyuu had found.

Giyuu turned. The weather was hot, so he had taken off the top of his uniform, folding that and his haori and placing it aside.

Deciding not to question why Sanemi was here, he cocked his head in question. "What?"

Sanemi seemed taken aback that he'd been responded to, but went on. "Uhm. Kanroji said that she wanted to invite all the Hashira on some shit sleepover and said I had to ask you to come," he said impatiently, his eyes flicking up and down, as if inspecting Giyuu.

"Oh. I won't go," Giyuu murmured. There was no reason to. It wasn't like the Hashira would actually want him to go.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "I figured."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because Kanroji would get mad if I didn't. Which would induce ear-piercing cries about why," Sanemi snorted, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms. He was sweating and the air was humid today, causing his hair to stick onto his skin.

"Ah."

Giyuu sheathed his katana, pulling his hair out of the ponytail to adjust it.

Sanemi watched him curiously, as if there was something to figure out.

"What?" Giyuu asked, upon noticing this.

"You never take down your hair," Sanemi said simply.

He was a lot less shout-y today, it was unsettling, almost.

"Okay."

They lapsed back into silence as Giyuu re-tied his hair back up, his hands sticky with sweat. The only sounds were of the rush water and the occasional bird from up ahead.

Sanemi wasn't leaving, which was curious. Especially since his eyes seemed to be tracking Giyuu, as if he was put in charge to guard him.

"...do you need anything?" Giyuu asked finally, growing uncomfortable.

"No," Sanemi murmured, turning away.

Confused, Giyuu watched as Sanemi left, without so much of an explanation. Odd.

×××

Fuck.

That day, that one day, that one stupid fucking day.

The sleepover thing was a lie. There hadn't been any sleepover. It had been an excuse to find Giyuu.

Sanemi hadn't figured he'd have any luck, so when he'd seen Giyuu there he'd instinctively called out to him. He'd managed to hide his surprise enough and masked it with the question he'd made up. Luckily, Giyuu had shot it down. Because if he hadn't...

But that was beside the point. It wasn't the question that made Sanemi panic. No, of course it wasn't.

It was the fact that when he had seen Giyuu there, he had... felt. Something. Something different.

Usually, anger was his key to reality. But, then, he hadn't been angry then. He had felt something else, something true. He couldn't distinguish it, being in some stupid trance when he'd felt it. But he knew that it was different.

So now he was tearing at his hair, wishing he'd figure it out because it was eating him alive now, and had been since the day he'd seen Giyuu there.

Giyuu without his-

No.

No, he wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't picture how Giyuu looked with his hair down, no shi... Shit. He shouldn't be thinking like this. He wouldn't!

Fuck.

Sanemi stood and grabbed his katana, pushing it into his belt and gritting his teeth in frustration. He stomped to the front of his house, slamming the door open and unsheathing his katana.

He brought the sword above his head and slashed down.

One. Two. Three.

Don't think about Giyuu. Don't think about him.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

You hate him, remember? He's stupid.

Thirty six. Thirty seven. Thirty eight.

His boring responses and his way of ignoring.

Sixty four. Sixty five. Sixty six.

The way he distances himself, how he doesn't talk.

Ninety eight. Ninety nine. One hundred.

His stupid blue eyes and stupid black hair.

One hundred and forty one. One hundred and forty two. One hundred and forty three.

His stupid voice you want to hear every day. His stupid mouth you want to-

Sanemi threw his katana down in frustration, kicking the handle and making it skid away, hitting a small boulder a few feet from him.

He ran his hand through his hair, biting his bottom lip furiously until it bled.

"Goddammit," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

He sighed and sat down, burying his face in his hands. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

×××

Sanemi's uncharacteristic behavior had caught Giyuu's attention. It wasn't in his full interest, of course, but it was enough to make him curious. Yes, the weather had been hot and it made some people drowsy but... it hadn't ever visibly affected Sanemi enough to make him so quiet and... yeah.

Which made Giyuu wonder, was Sanemi ever quiet? The only time he could think of the scarred Hashira being silent was... when in Kagaya's presence. Meaning, only twice a year. Which meant it was very rare.

So, upon this realization, Giyuu decided he would try to figure it out. It wouldn't hurt to try getting along with Sanemi, right? Besides, maybe that would mean less yelling. And he would have something to do.

For a while, he forgot he was going to find out the reason of Sanemi's random personality slip, as it had completely left his mind; Sanemi wasn't exactly a priority to him.

But then he ran into Sanemi again one day, who seemed to be in a subdued mood, not even bothering to acknowledge Giyuu.

They were in the middle of a town, though, so it wasn't completely unreasonable.

Giyuu watched Sanemi carefully for a bit, before turning to continue buying his food.

Once he had paid and left, he turned back, noticing Sanemi instantly. He approached him cautiously, looking up curiously at the store the Wind Hashira had walked into. A sweets store? For pastries, mochis, and bread? Was he buying something for someone?

Giyuu hovered inside the store uncomfortably. A woman glanced at him and he quickly adjusted his haori over his katana; when people saw it, they usually called for security. He would know from experience.

Sanemi appeared to have noticed him immediately as he gave Giyuu an annoyed look, picking up a box of mochi that had been put down for him on the counter.

He walked towards the exit, muttering to Giyuu as he passed.

"The hell are you doing here?" he hissed between his teeth, his voice low.

The store was filled with a low chatter by the people around them and Giyuu quickly followed Sanemi out, deciding he didn't want to stay in this enclosed space with an almost intoxicating smell of sugar.

Back outside—and thank god for the fresh air—Giyuu and Sanemi walked quietly, side by side, through the streets.

The box, Giyuu noticed, was full of ohagi. Who liked ohagi? Mitsuri, maybe? He wasn't aware that Sanemi and Mitsuri were on good terms.

They continued in silence for a couple minutes until they reached a part that wasn't as crowded.

Sanemi stopped then, resulting in Giyuu stopping as well. They turned to each other and Sanemi glared at him.

"Were you stalking me or something? I saw you staring, earlier," Sanemi said, crossing his arms, the box of ohagi clutched in one hand.

"I wasn't," Giyuu mumbled.

"Right." Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Why'd you follow me into the bakery, then? You didn't buy shit."

Remembering the ohagi, Giyuu changed the subject. "Who is the ohagi for?"

"...The fuck does that have to do with anything? And it's not for anyone, I'm eating it"—he uncrossed his arms here, tapping the box—"And you didn't answer my question, dipshit."

Completely ignoring the last part, Giyuu said, surprised, "You like sweets?"

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "And you like ignoring me. What the hell does my taste in food have to do with shit??"

Giyuu frowned. If Sanemi ate things like ohagi often, why wasn't he nicer? Like Mitsuri!

"Oi, you going to answer my question?" Sanemi snapped, waving the box in front of Giyuu's face.

"What question?" Giyuu asked, drawing blank.

Sanemi groaned. "I can't tell if you're really that stupid, or if you're just pretending."

"I'm... not pretending," Giyuu mumbled, confused.

"Goddammit, never-fucking-mind," Sanemi sighed, turning. "I'm going to go. Don't follow me."

Giyuu's frown deepened but he nodded, watching Sanemi walk away.

Sanemi was in a peculiar mood that way. Although he was still as fiesty as ever, he didn't shout as much as usual. His voice was quieter. It was almost pleasant. Almost.

×××

Giyuu had been quite talkative that day. Had a randomly curious nature, followed by a million questions. Sanemi couldn't tell if he liked this or if he hated it. On the one hand, it was nice to hear Giyuu's voice a bit more. On the other, he was being ignorant and nosy as fuck. But... he seemed curious as to what Sanemi was doing. Was he interested in-

No. That was stupid thinking, and being a Hashira did not allow stupid thinking!

Sanemi had been deep in thought about all of this for a couple hours now and was eating his ohagi whilst he walked towards... Where was he again?

He looked around, confused, and found himself standing admist a bamboo forest, water from a supposed river could be heard in the background. There was a house, a little ways forward, which was nestled comfortably in a small man-made clearing in the forest. The ground was gritty, like thickly packed sand, and it made a slight crunching sound as Sanemi walked towards the house, curious.

He'd never been here before.

He looked around, his eyes catching onto everything. Then he realized there was approaching him from behind and he turned, noticing the motion of a person, entering the clearing. He quickly hid by the side of the house, waiting for the person.

Their footsteps were moderate but precise, and they grew closer to the house before pausing and suddenly moving quickly to where Sanemi hid.

Fuck.

But then the person came into view and...

"Tomioka?"

Giyuu blinked at him, his hand dropping from his katana. "What are you doing here, Shinazugawa?" he asked quietly, his brilliant blue eyes flicking over Sanemi as if he was searching for an answer written upon his body.

"I was just walking and ended up here somehow." Then, with a realization, Sanemi said, "Do you live here?"

Giyuu gave a hesitant nod. "I wasn't aware I told anyone of this place."

"You didn't. I don't know fuck where I am," Sanemi said, retreating from his hiding spot to stand in front of Giyuu.

"Ah. Hello, again," Giyuu murmured. He turned, walking to his front door and unlocking it, opening the door.

Sanemi nodded, standing awkwardly.

Giyuu glanced at him. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"No," Sanemi said. "My next mission is just patrol shit, and it shouldn't be too far."

"Okay. Do you want to come in?" Giyuu offered, stepping inside.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to drug me with tea?"

"...What?"

"Nevermind. Sure."

Giyuu nodded, motioning for him to come inside.

The interior of Giyuu's house was modest, kept mostly simple—which made sense given that the Hashira didn't usually devote their time to decorating their house. Except Mitsuri, maybe.

Sanemi closed the door behind him, looking around. "Why do you never tell anyone about your house?" he asked, absentmindedly.

Giyuu didn't respond, getting something from a different room.

Sanemi sighed. "You don't like responding, do you?" he asked pointedly, following Giyuu into what appeared to be the kitchen.

Giyuu glanced at him, then handed the albino male a teapot. Steam was filtering through the top, making Sanemi's hand feel humid and hot. He placed it on the knee-high table, confused why he'd been handed it. Giyuu gave him two cups in following and he poured the tea into them, watching the steam swirl and dissipate into the air.

Sanemi picked up one of the cups, the warmth from the tea seeping through the cup and warming his hands. Giyuu sat down across from where Sanemi stood, picking up his own cup.

It was silent as the two Hashira sipped their tea, neither having anything to say. Sanemi looked up, taking in the sight of Giyuu who sat quietly, his cup clasped in his hands, his eyes cast down, watching the swirl of the liquid. He looked cute this way, really. He always looked so subdued but it was adorable.

Honestly, something must be horrible wrong with Sanemi if he was thinking like this. He couldn't stop, somehow. Which was irritating to himself, almost worrying, really. Mostly annoying. He didn't want to be thinking about Giyuu 24/7, didn't want to be unable to look at Giyuu without falling into a fucking puddle.

He was fighting so hard to keep his composure at the moment, hoping beyond hope his face wasn't red. It was so fucking stupid, to look at Giyuu and think, God that man is so beautiful. Had he, or had he not, hated him before? Albeit, it hadn't truly been hate...

"What?"

Sanemi looked up at the sound of Giyuu's voice, startled by the sudden noise in the previously hushed room.

Giyuu was staring at him, his eyes wide. It was tripping to see him whenever he showed emotion. It was unnatural on his face.

"What?" Sanemi asked. He placed his cup down on the table, having finished his tea a couple minutes ago.

Giyuu's mouth opened and closed soundlessly before saying, quietly, "You... think I'm pretty?"

Sanemi blinked. "The fuck are you-" ...Oh. Oh, oh god, he must've said it out loud, he must've told Giyuu without even realizing that-

Giyuu put his cup down as well, biting his lip. His face was mostly impassive, though, and it made everything... so much worse.

"No. I, uhm, I didn't... I didn't mean to say that-" Sanemi stuttered, worsening matters. He should've just said it was a joke, or something, what the hell was wrong with him? He was stumbling over himself, backing away. Why was he so nervous? This was Giyuu, for fucks sake! He didn't actually care! ...Right?

Giyuu stood as well, nearly knocking down the table in the process. He steadied it and moved forwards, reaching an arm out to grab Sanemi's wrist—instinctively, most likely—but Sanemi had retreated already, was out the door and heading towards the front.

Giyuu followed him quickly, stopping him before he opened the door.

"Shinazugawa?"

And then it was like words suddenly stopped existing and Sanemi froze, his eyes flicking around nervously. "W...What?" he asked, his voice meek and timid. Disgusting. Why was he being like this? God, he needed help. What the fuck.

"Did you... Did you mean it?" Giyuu mumbled, his hand clasped around Sanemi's wrist. The feel of his palm was warm and, though his hands were calloused from years of training, his hand was almost soft.

"Mean what?" Stupid. This was stupid, Sanemi was stupid, everything was-

"What you said about... me."

Yes. He meant it. Meant more than that.

"No."

"Oh."

Giyuu let go of Sanemi's wrist and his arm fell to his side.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then-

"...sorry. Bye, Shinazugawa," he said quietly, opening the door for Sanemi and backing away slightly.

Sanemi didn't move for a second, his body feeling numb for no reason.

"Are you leaving?" Giyuu asked uncertainly.

"...Yes," Sanemi said, regaining feeling in his body and quickly making his way out.

He shut the door behind him, walking quickly through the clearing and back onto the path outside of it. He looked from his left to right then, deciding he didn't know where the hell he was, turned left and broke out into a slow run, his pace quickening by the second.

As he ran, he felt as if his lungs had deflated, and he breathed heavily through his mouth, as if suddenly he had lost the ability to run.

What the hell was that? Why had he acted like that? What the fuck was wrong with him?

×××

Giyuu was in a panic. He was panicking because:

1. Sanemi had found his house somehow.

2. Sanemi had been quiet for the longest time possible for him.

3. Sanemi had been drinking tea with Giyuu inside Giyuu's house... quietly.

4. Sanemi said that Giyuu was beautiful... then went on to deny it.

5. Sanemi had been so awkward.

6. Sanemi had then proceeded to run away after Giyuu had caught hold of his arm.

What the hell had just happened?!

×××

Sanemi was also panicking. Waaay worse.

He found Obanai quickly and, in the most incomprehensible way, recounted what had happened.

Obanai stared at him, confused and irritated. "What? Will you slow the fuck down and catch your breath first?"

Sanemi ignored him, deciding to explain in a faster way. "I think I like Tomioka."

Obanai crossed his arms. "Okay?"

"'Fuck you mean, 'okay'?!" Sanemi snapped.

"It was obvious that you liked him, idiot," Obanai said. He rolled his eyes. "Is that all? A stupid revelation everyone but you already knew? If so, I will be with Kanroji, thank you very much."

"Oh my god, think about something other than your girlfriend for once!!!" Sanemi groaned. "And what the fuck do you mean, 'everyone already knew'? I didn't even know!"

"Riiighttt, this is a massive waste of my time, I'll be off now," Obanai said, turning away.

"Bitch," Sanemi grumbled, watching Obanai practically skip off to Mitsuri.

He sighed, sitting down on the ground, leaning against a random tree that just so happened to be there.

He buried his face in his hands, wishing he knew the answers to the world. And wishing he wasn't thinking about Giyuu.

×××

Sanemi had suddenly become a person that Giyuu could be more than mildly interested in, someone he needed to find something out about but he didn't quite know what. And given that Sanemi had basically run away from him the last time they'd met, Giyuu opted to talk to Obanai about Sanemi.

Upon approaching him and asking him about Sanemi, Obanai simply said, "He fell in love with someone," and gave no other explanation before leaving.

Almost frustrated by this response, Giyuu searched for someone else who could tell him a little something about the Hashira he'd always wanted to avoid.

He went to Mitsuri next, whom was known for her friendliness and perhaps she had managed to speak a bit with Sanemi before.

She didn't say much, only burst into a fit of giggling when he asked about Sanemi.

Giyuu just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Mitsuri told him, then, that perhaps Sanemi was acting like this because he liked someone.

Which only made it all the more annoying.

Shinobu, Tengen and Kyojuro only gave similar answers to those of Obanai's and Mitsuri's. So, Giyuu gave up asking the Hashira and quickly tracked down Genya.

Genya was surprised to hear the question.

"Aniki?" he'd said. "What do you mean?"

"Yes. That's what he said. Then he left," Giyuu said blandly.

"Oh. Uhm." Genya hesitated. "I don't know. I don't know him as well as I used to."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence.

"What do you know about him, then? Be it not of his present self," Giyuu asked.

"Uhh... He's really good with children! He cared for me and my younger siblings really well, as if he was our father," Genya said, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "He was really kind. I remember he would do anything to help Mother when she needed it, even did most of the things she usually did just so she could sleep well that night."

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "He sounds very different."

Genya frowned. "I'm sure he's still like that..."

"Mhm. Go on."

"Alright. Uhm..." Genya then proceeded to go on a rant about the most random facts about Sanemi, from his favorite food—ohagi—to the friends he'd had in the past.

Giyuu listened with interest, not realizing there could be so much character to a man who seemed to make it his life goal to annoy people.

At the end of Genya's rant, he had said, "he might like you, you know, if he said that. Or he was thinking about someone else?" Genya concluded, referring to Sanemi calling him beautiful—then claiming he didn't mean it.

"Like me?..." Giyuu asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mhm!" Genya waved, walking away. "Tell me if anything happens!"

"Alright..." Giyuu watched him leave, then turned back to his own thoughts.

Like him? Why would anyone like Giyuu? And, of all people, Sanemi! Although, it would tie together with what the Hashira had said, given that they'd all said that Sanemi had 'fallen in love.'

But... how? And why?

×××

Sanemi successfully managed to avoid Giyuu for about three days before he was found. He had been walking down a path after his mission, on his way home, when he ran into Giyuu. Giyuu, as it turned out, had had a mission near Sanemi's and had also been on his way home.

"Shinazugawa?"

Sanemi's heart stopped. Fuck.

Giyuu was standing there, his expression all innocent and unassuming and... God. Yes, yes he looked like a fucking god.

"What?" Sanemi snapped, fighting against the heat that rose in his body. Goddammit.

"I've been looking for you..." Giyuu said, stepping forwards to be face to face with the Wind Hashira, his gaze curious, a contrast to his usually impassive expression.

"...Why?" It's not because he's interested, it is not. Sanemi's eyes flicked anywhere but to Giyuu's face and he pursed his lips uncertainly.

"I wanted to ask you about something," Giyuu replied, tilting his head slightly. "...Why won't you look at me?"

"Why the fuck are you so talkative?!" Sanemi asked, his voice coming out more irritated than he'd intended. His heart seemed to be working again; or maybe not. It beat quickly, too quickly, and his breath came out forced and quick.

"Are you okay?" Giyuu's voice was concerned, he frowned. "Your face is red..."

"Fuck off. It's... 'cause I was running a lot. And you aren't answering me," Sanemi mumbled, turning his face away.

"Oh." Giyuu paused, seemingly forgetting what he was doing here. "I wanted to ask you some-"

"I get it, you want to ask me something. Get the fuck on with it! I don't have time to waste on your shitty ass," Sanemi said, crossing his arms. Why was he acting like this, as if he could barely control his emotions anymore. It was stupid, and annoying.

"...Sorry." Giyuu pouted. "Do you... like me?"

Sanemi froze. "What?"

"Do you like me?..." Giyuu repeated.

"No, I heard you, don't fucking repeat it," Sanemi gritted out. "Why the hell would you ask that?!"

"...I was... wondering about your behavior. It was peculiar and I... couldn't fathom why you had acted like that," Giyuu said quietly. "I asked the Hashira and your brother and... they all said you liked someone—though Genya said that, more specifically, you might like... me?"

"I..." Sanemi was at loss for words. He couldn't like Giyuu! Not that stupid, quiet, bitchass bastard! Except, it would make sense. It would explain why he always felt so... Oh my god, he needed to get out of here. He couldn't bear having Giyuu's annoyingly pretty eyes staring at him curiously, as if he hadn't just dropped the worst question he ever could.

"No. No, I hate you! I don't like you! Fuck off!" Sanemi shouted, turning and quickly running off, not looking back.

Fuck.

×××

There was something wrong with Giyuu.

When Sanemi had left, shouting that he didn't like him, Giyuu had felt a pang in his chest. As if he was disappointed.

Why would he be? He'd never cared much what Sanemi said before. And yet...

And yet now he suddenly cared, suddenly wished to know why. Why what? Why everyone claimed Sanemi had fallen in love? Why Sanemi had called him beautiful? Why Sanemi seemed to hate him so much? Why he felt like it all actually mattered?

He had trudged home, nearly bumping into several trees in the process. Then he had flopped onto his futon and proceeded to stare at the cealing, re-thinking his life. The image of Sanemi from earlier flashed in his memory. Sanemi, his cheeks flushed,—from running???—his eyes averted and face scrunched from anger. He looked like an angry dog, really. But cuter.

Wait. What?

No, no, not cute. Sanemi was never cute.

Giyuu sighed, dropping a hand onto his forehead and running his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him?

×××

It was dark and raining, though the air was warm. Sanemi was trudging through a muddy forest without a clue to where he was going, exhaustion dragging him down. He was soaked to the bone and shivering despite the warm weather. As he walked, he noted that somebody was somewhere around him. He kept his guard up, quieting his footsteps as he continued on. Then, at an intersection of the path, he bumped into... Genya.

Genya had his arm over his head and had apparently only just noticed Sanemi, skittering backwards in his surprise. "A-... Aniki?!" Genya said, startled.

Sanemi grumbled. Of course it was him. "What?" he asked, irritated.

"Uhm. I was on a mission," Genya mumbled.

"What, are you going to bleed to death now??" Sanemi said, noticing the blood staining Genya's clothing. "Quit the fucking Corps if you're going to be so useless at your job."

"No! I'm fine! It's a light wound. And I won't quit!! I'm not useless!" Genya insisted, pouting.

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Then get your ass to Kocho's. I don't want to deal with you right now," he said, turning away from his (not) brother and stalking away.

"Wait- Aniki-" Genya called out, following him.

"Fuck off! And I'm not your brother!" Sanemi snapped, not turning to look at him.

"Please-"

"Shut the actual fuck up," he said, turning and pushing Genya to the ground.

Genya slipped on the mud and fell on his back. He frowned but stopped following Sanemi who walked away, through the forest.

Sanemi looked around, trying to figure out where the hell he was. He noticed a path that looked vaguely familiar to the left and he followed it, his steps slow. He let out an exaggerated sigh every now and then, wishing he could just stop Genya from being Genya for once.

He looked up and found that, as the path went on, there was one part that entered into what looked like a bamboo forest. Ah. Giyuu's house.

He contemplated going inside for a minute before deciding to just walk past it, not wanting to deal with Giyuu asking if... No, he wouldn't finish the sentence.

So he trudged on. Then, to his luck, he heard his name being called out. He turned with a sigh, meeting Giyuu's gaze. "What is it?" he asked, his voice coming out harsher than intended.

"Uhm. Shinazugawa, what're you doing outside now?" Giyuu asked. "It's raining, you should get inside unless you want to get a cold."

"Yeah, well, I have no fucking idea where I am. I'll be fine," Sanemi said, shaking his head.

"Come inside!" Giyuu insisted. "I have a mission I have to get to in a bit, I think, but it'll be fine. You can stay here so Kocho doesn't kill you for getting sick."

"Fair enough..." Sanemi sighed, caving in. He followed Giyuu inside, slipping off his shoes.

"You should bathe and change," Giyuu said, looking Sanemi up and down. "I'll put extra clothing and a towel in the bathroom and make an extra futon for you."

"Alright. Thanks," Sanemi said, wondering why the hell Giyuu was talking to much.

Giyuu nodded and went off to do what he had said, leaving Sanemi standing in the hall.

×××

After Giyuu had made sure that Sanemi had everything he might need—putting out a tray of food next to the futon as well—he quickly wrote a note explaining that he would be out on a mission and that Sanemi could sleep or whatever he wanted while waiting.

He left the note on top of the futon and grabbed his haori, slipping it on. He picked up his katana, pushing it into his belt, and heading outside into the rain.

The mission was easy—the demons being surprisingly incompetent for a Hashira to be called there. And, after making sure the surviving rank-and-file Demon Slayers were alright, he made his way home. Unfortunately he'd been held up by the other Demon Slayers so dawn was already approaching.

The rain had settled to a light sprinkle, almost non-existent, and the sky was brightening as the sun slowly arose.

Back home, Giyuu quickly bathed and changed, then went to look for Sanemi. He entered his room and found Sanemi entangled between the sheets of his futon. The food was half eaten and the note sat on the tray.

Giyuu almost smiled at the sight. It was really nice to see the humanity in Sanemi; it was rare. He slipped into his own futon and closed his eyes, falling asleep soon after.

×××

When Sanemi awoke, light was filtering through a window. He ran a hand through the mess of his hair, moving the blankets off of him. He looked to his left and saw Giyuu fast asleep. He smiled—then quickly frowned at himself for smiling—and turned to his food, which was mostly cold now. Regardless, he ate the rest of it. Once he finished, he picked up the tray and took it to where he presumed the kitchen was, washing his bowls.

As he dried his hands, he heard Giyuu walking and turned.

Giyuu was at the doorway, looking quite illegally adorable in all his sleepiness, his hair messy as hell. He blinked wearily at Sanemi. "Good morning."

"'Morning," Sanemi returned, nodding. "It's strange to wake up actually in the morning."

Giyuu nodded back. "Mhm."

"Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"Want me to make something?" he offered.

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "You can cook?"

"Don't look at me like that. Of course I can, what kind of eldest sibling would I be without knowing how to cook??" Sanemi scoffed. "I'll show you."

"I wouldn't want to bother you, it's fine," Giyuu murmured. "I can make myself something."

"What, canned tomato sauce? I'm making it. I took your question as a fucking challenge," Sanemi said, pushing Giyuu out of the kitchen. "I'm going to use whatever the hell you have in here, by the way!!"

Giyuu called back a complaint in response.

Sanemi grinned and started scouring the kitchen for ingredients, deciding he would make the most elaborate food he could with what he found. Literally for no reason at all.

×××

Sanemi had called Giyuu in to eat—after he had waited for an hour—and now, sitting before him, was... The most food he'd seen in front of him in his life since... Since he was thirteen. No, well, not the most. But it reminded him of when Tsutako had guests over and she wanted to make the food be the best it possibly could be.

"Uhhm. Thank you..." Giyuu said, still in shock.

Sanemi smirked. "Who can't cook now?!"

"It wasn't even a challenge!" Giyuu whined.

"Mhmmm, well now it is! Whatever you don't eat I'm sending to Rengoku probably. Or Kanroji. Either of them will eat it without a question," Sanemi said, crossing his arms. "Now, eat."

"Why're you feeding me???" Giyuu huffed, though he sat down and picked up a fork that Sanemi had laid down for him.

"Because I never do this anymore and I was bored. And I didn't feel like training yet," he said simply, sitting down across from Giyuu. "Why, do you not want to eat?"

Giyuu shook his head. "No, no, I do. You're just being so nice today-"

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll stop being nice." He stood and walked to the other side of the table and smacked Giyuu's head. "Eat!!"

"I... I preferred you when you were nice..." Giyuu admitted, quickly starting to eat.

"Exactly. Besides, you can't be questioning me when you're talking as much as Rengoku today," Sanemi pointed out.

"No' af mush," Giyuu mumbled through mouthfuls of food.

"Hm. True. And don't talk with your mouth full or I'll squeeze the food out of you," Sanemi threatened, going back to his side of the table and plopping down.

Giyuu glared at him but finished chewing before responding. "What are you, my mom?"

"Yes, I'm your mom now. Manners!!" Sanemi shouted, picking up a piece of bread and chucking it at Giyuu.

"Hey- Parents don't do that- I think-" Giyuu whined, picking up the bread and putting it on the table.

"You 'think'??" Sanemi asked incredulously, starting to eat.

"My sister raised me," Giyuu said with a shrug—then realized what he said and quickly stuffed food in his mouth, wishing he wasn't being so open suddenly. Something about Sanemi's atmosphere today just made him so comfortable, though. His teasing manner—and not in a rude way. Like... Sabito.

"Ah. Nice," Sanemi murmured, picking up a cup and filling it with tea.

"Mm. Thanks for the food, again," Giyuu said, giving him a slight smile.

Sanemi raised his eyebrows at the smile, but said nothing of it, simply nodding. "Sure."

×××

Back at his own house, Sanemi was changed in his uniform again. He laid the clothes Giyuu had let him borrow down and- Oh shit, he had taken them home- He contemplated going back to Giyuu's house, then decided he'd rather not bother and headed outside to train.

His mind was filled with thoughts of Giyuu—Giyuu's smile, his house, just him in general—and he found it hard to concentrate on his training. So, only ten minutes after he'd started, he promptly gave up, deciding to do something else and set out on a walk.

Over the next few days, Sanemi found himself mostly alone. Although there was the occasional nod from Obanai when they passed by each other, he was mostly solitary. Days were busier now, with demons multiplying each second. The past dull of life seemed to have faded recently, however, which made him not mind the constant missions. In honesty, he felt relieved. But he had a feeling Giyuu had something to do with his life feeling like life again, a fact which he preferred to ignore. There was no way in hell he would ever admit to anyone that he liked Giyuu, because it was Giyuu. If it were literally anyone else, he would've just told them. But Giyuu?? The 'I'm not like you' quiet-ass bastard who was way too cute than he should be allowed to be—who was a stupid, oblivious fuck??? Him??

Nah.

Honestly, Giyuu seemed to have it figured out though. So hopefully Sanemi wouldn't have to clarify. Because if he did, then they were better off not interacting at all.

×××

"He likes you, it's obvious," Shinobu said, rolling her eyes. She taped the bandage around Giyuu's wrist and let go of his arm. "Anyway, I'm done. Don't force your arm past its limits, know your own strength, idiot. Or weaknesses, if you may."

Giyuu blinked. "I don't think he likes me. He said he didn't."

"Does Shinazugawa seem like the type to be honest when it comes to this?" Shinobu asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood, putting away her supplies.

"He's annoyingly honest," Giyuu murmured, standing as well.

"Fair point. But! Keywords, 'when it comes to this.' He wouldn't just straight up say, 'Hey, I like you.' Doesn't sound like him," Shinobu said, picking up a pen and tapping Giyuu's nose with the tip of it.

Giyuu batted the pen away, shaking his head. "No, he seems like the type to do that."

"Hm. Not with you, then," she said, grabbing his non-injured hand and forcing the pen into it.

"I don't need this," Giyuu said, trying to give it back.

"You do. Sign this," Shinobu said, shoving a paper in his face.

Giyuu eyed it. "What is it?"

"You're overworking yourself. This gives you permission to have a break," she said impatiently. "Write your name there."

"...No. I'm alright," he said, frowning.

She sighed. "Worth a shot. I'll just forge your signature. Anyway, back to Shinazugawa."

"Hey-" Giyuu whined as she snatched the pen and paper back.

A smile as sweet as a lemon spread across her face. "Yes?"

"...You're a pain, Kocho," he grumbled, sitting back down.

"That's all? Very well, let's go back to the topic of your boyfriend. Now, tell me, do you like him?" she asked, leaning closer to him.

Heat seemed to flicker into his cheeks and he fidgetted with his sleeve. "No..."

She laughed. "I'm not Uzui but I could hear your lie from miles away."

"I'm not lying..."

"Okay, well, tell me this. Since all of this"—she waved her hand over him, as if it would explain anything—"has happened, you've been, one, talking more, two, a lot more expressive, three, more distracted. And... four? You're blushing. When I asked you, you turned red."

"I did not!" Giyuu said indignantly, although he was sure he only turned redder.

"You're annoying. You're like a child," she said, exasperated. "Fine. Be it your way. But he does like you, mark my words. So if you two end up dating, I get to say 'I told you so.' Also, I better be the first person you tell."

Giyuu frowned. "We won't date. I don't like him, and I'm sure he doesn't like me."

"Suit yourself." She hit his head with a ruler that she'd apparently conjured out of nowhere. "Now get out. I have more important things to deal with."

Giyuu sighed and stood, quickly leaving before she decided to bother him again.

There was no way what she was saying was true. Why the hell would Giyuu fall for... Sanemi?! And vice versa. It just didn't make sense...

×××

"You're going to be the death of me," Sanemi said, sighing. Giyuu was currently on his back, clinging on for dear life, as Sanemi stalked to the ravenette's room.

Sanemi had finally decided to bring back Giyuu's clothes—once he'd worked up the courage to willingly visit him—only to find Giyuu collapsed on the ground having apparently been training for some hours and hadn't been hydrated enough.

"I'm sorryyy," Giyuu mumbled into Sanemi's shoulder.

"Save your apologies for Kocho, you better hope she doesn't barricade you in your room," he said, rolling his eyes. He kicked down Giyuu's bedroom door and marched inside, dropping the Hashira on his bed. "Sleep."

"I'm convinced you're trying to mother me," Giyuu said, a hand drapping over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. "First you cook me food and now you make me sleep."

Sanemi scoffed. "Your fault for being so incompetent. And I'm not your mother. What, do you want me to be? Want me to kiss you goodnight?"

Giyuu raised his arm to look at Sanemi. "Would you do it?"

His eyes were curious, a striking blue. Usually they seemed to hold no life in them, no emotion, no passion, no nothing. But there was a glint to it now, seeming to light up Giyuu's face like a beacon.

Sanemi swallowed. "Would you ask?"

Giyuu's lips curved in a small smile. "Touché."

Sanemi sighed, shaking his head—more at himself. "You're stupid."

"I'll sleep now," Giyuu informed him, pulling the sheets over himself.

"You better. I'm staying here 'till you sleep."

"What?! You creep," he whined.

"Either that or I tell Kocho," Sanemi said, set on his decision.

"...Fine, stalk me all you want," Giyuu said, frowning and closing his eyes.

Sanemi smiled to himself, leaning against the wall and waiting.

The room drew to a quiet hum, the only sound being the two Hashira's breathing. After a while, Giyuu's breath finally calmed into a slow, settled sleep, his face relaxed and soothed.

Sanemi stepped towards the bed quietly, hovering over him. He knelt beside Giyuu and, once he decided that he really was asleep, started to step away. Then he paused, his eyes trailing to Giyuu's lips.

He immediately struck down the idea, mentally berating himself for even thinking it. He parted the dark locks resting on Giyuu's forehead, placing a gentle kiss there before quickly fixing the Hashira's hair and retreating from the room, making his way outside.

The cool air hit his face as he stepped out, but he barely noticed it, heat flickering in his cheeks as he walked out of the clearing and into the path that would lead him back. God, why was he such a mess...

(i loved writing that sm)

×××

Giyuu was a light sleeper.

Anyone in the Demon Slayer Corps had to be, or they wouldn't even pass Final Selection. So, of course, he had awoken. Though he had been too sleepy to comprehend why he had woken up so randomly, and so quickly, at the time, he quickly realized it once Sanemi had left.

Now he lay, curled up in a ball, his face buried in his palms, mentally screaming. Because.. what the hell had just happened?! But... he wasn't complaining.

Wait- Why not-

He pulled the blanket over his head, engolfing himself in the darkness. No, this wasn't better. It only made his face hotter. He sat up, the cool air bursting upon him. He fanned himself, trying to calm his heartbeat.

Fuck, he was in love, wasn't he. He was in love, he was in love with Sanemi Shinazugawa. He was a fucking mess.

×××

"...You look like Tomioka just kissed you," Obanai said, crossing his arms and leaning back against a tree.

Sanemi had found him, after a while, and was trying to get his thoughts together, pacing up and down on the side of the path. "He didn't! I did!"

"Wait what-" Obanai said, standing up straight and leaning towards him. "What do you mean?!"

Sanemi let out a half-sigh, half scream, raking his hand through his hair. "Not... Not fully, just on his forehead. And he was asleep. BUT STILL!!"

Obanai slumped back against the tree, rolling his eyes. "Coward," he coughed.

"Oh, shut the fuck up. It's not like you have kissed Kanroji yet," Sanemi spat, stopping in front of Obanai.

"Yeah, well, unlike you, I have still been way more successful!!" he retorted. "All you have done is eat breakfast with him!! Meanwhile, I've eaten lunch and breakfast with her many days, gone on walks with her, bought her gifts, hugged her..."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Yet you haven't told her that you like her."

"Hey! You haven't told Tomioka either!!" Obanai pointed out.

"Righhttt, and who, exactly, has liked their crush for longer?? Hmm? Oh, right! You!" Sanemi laughed. "Your arguments are pitiful."

"You're freaking out about kissing Tomioka on the fucking forehead when he was asleep, don't call me pitiful," Obanai grumbled.

"Hm. Fair enough," Sanemi decided.

"Look, take Tomioka out on a walk or something equivalent to a date, for all I care. But if you keep ranting about how you kissed him on the forehead without him knowing then I'm going to find Tomioka and tell him how you feel. I don't give a fuck anymore," Obanai told him, moving away from the tree and walking back onto the path.

Sanemi turned towards him. "Consider it the same for you. I don't know how long I can stand hearing you talk about Kanroji. 'Oh my god! Kanroji told me we can eat lunch together, just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before, and the day bef-'"

"I GET IT!!!" Obanai snapped, rubbing his temples. "Fine. You stop, I stop."

"Deal."

Sanemi grinned. "Have fun eating lunch with her again. Or, rather, watching her eat lunch."

Obanai pushed him. "Fuck off."

×××

Sanemi had kissed him. He'd kissed him, he had kissed him, oh my god, Sanemi had-

Well. It could've just been to the joke from before. About 'kissing him goodnight.' BUT STILL. AND GIYUU HAD BEEN ASLEEP(ish).

Which made it all the more... Confusing. Maybe Sanemi saw him only as a sibling or a child or something. He did keep taking care of him, which didn't even seem coincidental anymore. As if, assuming one could believe in fate, they were being purposefully brought together. Constantly in each other's ways. ...Not that Giyuu minded.

In fact, he liked spending more time with Sanemi.

The fact of which was a huge shock to himself. Hadn't he just hated Sanemi?

Well. Things always changed, no...?

Maybe this change wouldn't be bad, though. Maybe he should try embracing it.

Giyuu found himself constantly distracted by these thoughts as he went on with his days. But, surprisingly, he didn't come across Sanemi for a while. Either Sanemi was avoiding him—which was reasonable, yet disappointing—or their schedules just kept them apart from each other. Whatever the reason was, Giyuu ended up going in search of Sanemi, wanting to clarify the ki...

No, he wouldn't say it. Wouldn't think it. He preferred not to feel as if he would have a heart attack—an abnormal heartbeat and flushed face...

He sighed, mussing up his hair so it covered his face, continuing to walk briskly down the path. He avoided some Demon Slayers who had seemingly popped out of nowhere and were attempting to talk to them, mentally berating himself for not being careful and getting unwanted attention. Just as he was about to give up and let them talk to him, he noticed Sanemi somewhere in the close distance.

He sped up, ignoring the calls of the other Demon Slayers who trotted behind him.

Sanemi looked up upon all the noise and seemed to be holding back laughter at the sight of Giyuu's pleading gaze. He cleared his throat, grabbing Giyuu's arm and pushing him behind him.

"The hell do you want?" he asked the others, glaring at them.

They all shrank back. One of them spoke up timidly, his voice shaky. "W... We just wanted to talk to Water-Pillar-sama..."

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. See, I need him somewhere. You all can go now," Sanemi said, waving them off.

"But-"

"I said I need him. You said you wanted something from him. Need is more important than want, fuckers. If you don't leave now, maybe we can see how well you can weild your katanas against a Hashira," Sanemi said, a hand hovering over his katana handle.

"Shinazugawa, there's no need to-" Giyuu started.

Sanemi shushed him, turning back to the Demon Slayers. "So? What will it be?"

They seemed to hesitate for a second before deciding it wasn't worth it and collectively agreed to leave, scampering away.

Sanemi turned back to Giyuu, a smirk growing on his face. "Got people falling on themselves for you now, hm?" he teased.

Giyuu sighed. "Will I have to find someone else to shoo you away?" he asked.

"I was joking- The hell did they even want from you, though?" Sanemi said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know," Giyuu murmured.

"Right." An awkward silence spread between the two and they stared at the ground, unsure what to say.

"Uh. Now that you're free, guess I'll be taking my leave-" Sanemi said, appearing to want to dash away. His cheeks were dabbed in a dusty pink as he stepped back.

"Wait- Shinazugawa, I wanted to ask you something," Giyuu said, grabbing Sanemi's wrist as he remembered why he had been outside in the first place.

"Which is?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Giyuu paused, glancing down at his hand which was still clasped around the scarred wrist of the other Hashira. Sanemi's pulse was fast. Why?

"Uhm. A few days ago... when you told me to sleep," Giyuu started quietly, unsure how to go about it. Then, deciding that there was no use stalling, he blurted out, "Why did you kiss me?"

Sanemi stared at him, in shock apparently, then let out what sounded like a muted scream, burying his face in the hand Giyuu wasn't holding. "God, you were awake...?" he mumbled, sounding as if he was regretting everything. Which he probably was doing.

"I... woke up when you did that," Giyuu murmured.

"...Of course you did," Sanemi said.

Giyuu cocked his head to the side. "Can I ask you something, Shinazugawa?"

"What now...?" he said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair—or, more, tearing at his hair.

"Why is your heartbeat so fast?" Giyuu asked.

Sanemi looked up, glaring at him. "Stop asking questions I'd rather tear my chest out than answer," he grumbled.

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "What-?"

"Nevermind."

"Okay..." Giyuu let go of his wrist. "Will you answer the questions?"

Sanemi hesitated. "What happens if I don't?"

"I'll... ask Genya for help?..." Giyuu said slowly, knowing it would irritate Sanemi—and hopefully convince him to speak.

Sanemi's eyes narrowed. "Fuck, fine." He let out an exaggerated sigh, then without warning reached up and clasped his hands on either side of Giyuu's face, pulling him closer.

Giyuu's eyes widened and he felt himself flush at the proximity, his stomach deciding to do some acrobatic trick of Mitsuri's, followed by what appeared to be a bunch of Shinobu's fluttering around.

"Shinazugawa...?" he mumbled, his voice muted from his own shock.

×××

Do it. DO IT.

Sanemi let out a breath, his eyes searching Giyuu's. He found no sign of resistance, only question and surprise.

"Listen. If you hate this, just push me away. I won't resist," Sanemi advised, his tone as serious as he could force it to be with his heart flying circles in his ribcage, as if trying to break free.

"Do wh-"

Before Giyuu could finish, Sanemi fit his mouth against the Water user's, one hand tangling in the dark locks of Giyuu's hair, the other slipping down to his waist. He paused when he got no response, and started to move away, but then arms wrapped around his body, pulling him closer and back into the kiss.

They stumbled through the embrace, their legs tangling with one anothers. He didn't know who finally pulled away, but when they did, the two stood there, Giyuu resting his head on Sanemi's shoulder, their breaths harsh and quick—not solely from the kiss.

Then, as if just realizing what they'd done, they scrambled away from each other, looking like embarrassed puppies.

Giyuu was the first to speak, his voice meek—not that Sanemi could blame him. "Do you... like me?" he mumbled.

Sanemi frowned. "I thought I told you to stop asking me questions like that."

"Like what?"

"Questions that I'd commit seppuku before answering," he said, crossing his arms.

"...Sorry," Giyuu said, pouting.

"You better be. Also, the answer should be fucking obvious. If it's not, then you're stupid." Sanemi rolled his eyes, stalking towards him and grabbing Giyuu's arm. "We're going somewhere private now. C'mon."

Giyuu nodded quickly, following him. "I'm not stupid," he muttered, more to himself

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

×××

Since then, Giyuu and Sanemi avoided each other. Mostly from embarrassment and neither wanting to bring up the topic again. After they had left the public eye, they had made out for a bit, being too shy—which was definitely not a word that would usually describe either of them—to talk about anything. It had been exactly a week, two days, four hours, and thirty one minutes since they had parted ways—yes, Giyuu had been counting.

But—finally—they had decided to meet again, talk about it more formally. Rather, Sanemi had invited Giyuu to lunch and Giyuu had agreed. He stood, waiting, in front of a restaurant. Apparently Sanemi had reserved a table but had forgotten to tell Giyuu, so now he was awkwardly hovering in front of the restaurant wishing Sanemi would hurry the fuck up.

After a few agonizing minutes of waiting, Sanemi appeared at last, looking out of breath. His hair looked oddly neat and well kept—unlike usual—and he had a smell of flowers wafting around him.

"Hey," he said, nodding to Giyuu. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. Iguro wanted me to help him with something then Kanroji came by, carrying like fifty bottles of perfume and wanted to test them out on me..." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

A smile crept up Giyuu's lips. "So that's why you smell as what I'd imagine a bee would during the summer?"

"Shut the fuck up," Sanemi said, opening the restaurant door and tugging Giyuu inside.

After they had found their table and ordered some food and settled down, Sanemi rested his arms on the table, clasping his hands together and turned to Giyuu. "So!" he said, as if trying to say something he most definitely did not want to say.

"Hm?"

"...I hate how little you talk," Sanemi grumbled. "You only ever talk to ask the most embarrassing shit ever."

"...sorry??"

Sanemi laughed, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "Yeah, no, nevermind. Let's just wait for the food."

Giyuu nodded, his heart beating faster than a humming bird's wings.

They waited in silence, conspicuously avoiding each others eyes.

When the food finally arrived, they took the opportunity to busy themselves with eating, pretending like they both had things they wanted to discuss but couldn't bring it up. Halfway through the meal, Giyuu gave up and said, abruptly, "Are we dating?"

Sanemi all but choked on his food, grasping for a cup of water. Giyuu hurried to help him, panicking.

After he had calmed down, Sanemi said, "I'm convinced you're trying to kill me, Tomioka."

Giyuu apologized again. "I didn't mean for that to happen..."

"I know. I was joking. Seriously, you really are stupid," Sanemi deadpanned.

"I'm not!" Giyuu whined.

"See, that was also a joke. Okay, maybe it wasn't. Also you sound like a child. But, uhm, back to the topic," Sanemi said, his tone switching completely.

They lapsed back into silence, staring at each other awkwardly.

"...are we, then...?" Giyuu mumbled, unsure what to make of the atmosphere.

"Uhm." Sanemi coughed, trying to think of a response. "Do you want to?"

Giyuu frowned. "Yes... Do you?"

Sanemi pushed a bowl of salmon daikon towards Giyuu, folding his hands on the table. "Then we're dating."

"What? But you never said if you-"

"I literally did, just not directly. But if you need me to spell it out to you then, yes. I do. And since you do too, apparently, then we're dating," Sanemi told him.

"...okay!" Giyuu said happily, taking the bowl with a small smile.

"Mm. How is your smile so small yet it lights up your whole face..." Sanemi said, resting his elbow on the table and head in his hand, laughing gently.

"I'm smiling? Sorry," Giyuu said, his lips quickly curving to its usual neutral state.

"Why sorry? Your smile isn't terrifying," Sanemi said, frowning.

"Kocho said it's weird," Giyuu mumbled.

"Well fuck her, then! It's not weird, it's... cute."

He flushed. "It's not cute!"

"Says you." A playful smirk rising upon Sanemi's face. "Anyways, hurry up and eat. I don't feel like waiting forever."

"Aren't you going to eat?-" Giyuu asked, looking up from his bowl.

"I finished."

"...oh."

××× (it's js sillyness from here on out)

Sanemi and Giyuu had come to a mutual agreement to not tell anyone of their relationship, or mostly keep it private. Both for the reasons of disliking gossip. From Tengen and Shinobu in specific. They were 99% sure that, if by any way, their relationship would become public knowledge, Tengen and Shinobu would have fun making up theories and teasing them day and night.

So, despite everyone somehow knowing that Sanemi liked Giyuu, the only people that knew of their relationship becoming real were Obanai and... Obanai. Just him.

Sanemi had said that they could tell their closest friends—as long as they swore not to say anything. Giyuu said, quite exactly, "I don't have friends."

Which... lead to Sanemi having to comfort him.

But all was said and all was done and the two found ways to meet in private between missions and training, managing to keep their relationship a secret for a surprisingly long amount of time. Of course, nothing ever lasts, and the Hashira eventually caught on.

Sanemi was a lot better at hiding it, just snapping at Giyuu all the time like usual—which he assured Giyuu that whatever he said wasn't what he truly meant, until they were alone. But Giyuu, on the other hand... Well, Sanemi assumed that he'd be alright at acting given that his face was always so irritatingly impassive. He'd assumed wrong, however, and eventually found that out.

In his attempt to fulfill Sanemi's wishes to not get the word spread out—and Giyuu was dreading the time when Shinobu would find out—Giyuu kept up the act for a good couple weeks. But, since Sanemi would act a lot more affectionate with him, he was less and less used to the previously usual aggression shown to him by his boyfriend (in public) as the days past.

Needless to say, Giyuu was the reason they were exposed. Which unfortunately happened in front of the whole Hashira—right before one of their biannual meetings with Kagaya.

×××

Giyuu had entered the garden a few minutes after Sanemi, on the opposite side, not wanting to cause suspicion. He stood by a tree quietly as the other Hashira trickled in.

Mitsuri bounded up to him, talking about something he wasn't necessarily listening to, his gaze set on Sanemi who was trying to obscure Obanai's eyes from seeing that Mitsuri was talking to another man.

Supposedly noticing the gaze, Sanemi looked up and glared at Giyuu, raising an eyebrow as if to tell him to snap out of it.

Shinobu noticed this.

"Ara ara, are you two fighting again? I'm surprised you haven't shouted at him yet, Shinazugawa," Shinobu commented, a sly smile forming upon her lips.

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Kocho."

"No need to be so harsh," Shinobu tutted, crossing her arms and shaking her head disapprovingly.

Gyomei agreed. "And please refrain from swearing."

Mitsuri had stopped talking, looking from one Hashira to the other.

Tengen laughed. "Well, there's been a lot less tension between Tomioka and the dog," he remarked, grinning at Sanemi.

"WHAT DOG?!?!" Sanemi shouted, stalking over to Tengen.

Obanai rolled his eyes. "Stop shouting."

Giyuu stood watching everything and wondering if he should speak given that he seemed to be apart of this argument. "What dog?"

Sanemi pointed at Giyuu, though he faced Tengen. "SEE?? THERE IS NO FUCKING DOG."

Gyomei frowned. "Do not shout, you will disturb the Master."

Sanemi let out a breath. "Fine."

Giyuu walked over to where Sanemi and Tengen stood. "Is Shinazugawa the dog?" he asked quietly.

Sanemi let out a gritted scream, looking ready to explode. Tengen looked equally like a timed bomb at its last second, although for completely different reasons.

"I'MNOTADOG!!!" Sanemi screeched, grabbing Giyuu by the shoulders and shaking him.

Giyuu ducked down, stepping away from Sanemi. "Okay."

Gyomei let out the longest sigh in history as Shinobu supressed a laugh.

"My, my, you're talking a lot today, Tomioka-San!" she said, looking up at him.

"Oh."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Well he should stop talking, he sounds like Uzui when his wives get a paper scratch," he said, crossing his arms.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?!" Tengen gasped, looking mildly offended.

"You're the one panicking when they so much as cough!!! You're all 'OH NO ARE YOU OKAY?! Nooo, KOCHO HELP ME!! DON'T DIE ON ME, PLEASE DON'T DIE ON ME—'" Sanemi said, pitching his voice higher.

Giyuu frowned. "I don't sound like that," he and Tengen said in unison—although Tengen with a considerably larger amount of theatrical flair.

"Oh yes you do! And I mean both of you!" Sanemi said, placing his hands on his hips.

Gyomei shook his head and went to go stand next to Muichiro who was staring at a beetle in his hand.

"...I do?" Giyuu whined.

Tengen seemed to have gotten over it quite quickly and was completely unfazed now.

"And worse!" Sanemi said, a mocking smile curving his lips.

Giyuu bit his lip, looking down.

Obanai sighed.

"The fuck are you looking at??" Sanemi asked, raising an eyebrow at Giyuu who wouldn't meet his eyes.

Tengen's mouth curved into an 'o' and he backed away quickly, whispering loudly to Kyojuro, "Shinazugawa just made Tomioka cry-"

"He cries??" Kyojuro whispered back, seeming to think they were actually being quiet.

Tengen shrugged and leaned against a tree, watching.

"...Why are you crying-" Sanemi said, fighting the concern that rose in himself. "You a baby???"

Giyuu looked up at him, pouting, unwilling to respond.

"Ara ara, looks like you shouldn't have said that about his voice! I would be offended as well if you compared my voice to Uzui's," Shinobu said, shooting a mischevious look at Tengen who appeared wounded.

Sanemi frowned. "It wasn't even that bad of an insult," he scoffed, trying with all his might to make Giyuu act fine without saying anything.

Giyuu sniffed loudly, ignoring Sanemi. He promptly turned away, stomping to the back of the garden and crossing his arms, acting as if he was waiting for Kagaya.

"Oooohhh-" Tengen said, a tone of amusement entering his voice. "I didn't know Tomioka could be so petty."

Shinobu raised an eyebrow. "Neither that he could be so affected by what Shinazugawa said."

Sanemi, fed up, sighed and stalked towards Giyuu, pulling him into a hug. "Giyuu, I didn't mean shit, I like your voice, okay??" he murmured, placing a kiss on Giyuu's nose. "Don't ignore me."

Giyuu seemed to brighten up instantly—which made Sanemi irritated because it had probably been an act then—and nodded. "Okay!"

"...ARE YOU TWO FINALLY DATING-" Kyojuro said, much too loudly.

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!!!" Shinobu shouted triumphantly.

Obanai shook his head with a sigh. "Well it was going to get out sooner or later."

Sanemi shot a glare at them. "Oh, fuck off."

Giyuu rested his head on Sanemi's shoulder, a small smile playing on his face.

×××

"I thought we agreed to keep it a secret..." Sanemi whined, as he and Giyuu were on their way back home.

"I'm sorrryyy," Giyuu said, pouting.

"Mmmhmm, well, I'm not giving you cuddles for three weeks now!" Sanemi told him, quickening his pace.

"WHAT?? NO-" Giyuu shouted, chasing after him.

Sanemi laughed, turning and abruptly stopping Giyuu, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I told you to work on differentiating a joke from a serious comment, Giyuu."

"...Well I'm trying!" Giyuu insisted, huffing. "...you're not going to take away my cuddles, are you?"

"No. That would be taking away my own, anyways. But! I'm still not letting you off. Which means I'm not making you salmon daikon for the rest of the week," Sanemi said, dragging Giyuu down the road.

"Awh..." Giyuu whined, trotting after Sanemi.

"Be glad it's Friday."

××× (this last part is completely random and has nothing to do with anything but I js wanted to write this)

Sanemi pushed Giyuu down, pinning him to the floor. He fit his lips to Giyuu's, closing his eyes. Legs wrapped around his waist as Giyuu clung onto him and Sanemi tangled his hand in the tangled mess of his boyfriend's hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

"Sa...nemi," Giyuu breathed between kisses, his face dusted in pink.

Sanemi pulled back, letting him breathe. "Yes?" he murmured, resting his lips upon Giyuu's forehead in a gentle kiss.

"I love you," Giyuu said quietly, his arms tightening their embrace around Sanemi's torso.

Sanemi smiled. "I love you most," he said, pulling Giyuu back into a kiss.

"Tha's... not fair...!" Giyuu whined, trying to avoid the kisses.

"Mhmm, I'm not fair at all then?" Sanemi said, peppering Giyuu's jaw with kisses.

"Nooo..."

Sanemi laughed. "Do you not love me, then?"

"I love you!" Giyuu insisted, turning back and catching a kiss on his bottom lip.

"Love you too, darling."

×××

« Word count: 11,420 »

ELEVEN THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY WORDS OF PURE FUCKING FLUFF.

anyways back to writing angst ;v;

will y'all forgive me for getting lazy and making it rushed because it took me over a month to actually finish this (loss of motivation+procrastination+rereading+editing+long asf+stalling)?

618 notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 1 year

Text

Flowers (LN4)

Summary: After the Silverstone Grand Prix, Y/n wants to do something nice for her successful boyfriend, but she quickly finds out her kind gesture means a lot more to him than what she expected.

Warnings: nada, just a little internalized gender stereotyping

Word Count: 736

Note: Something quick for Lando while I write an Oscar Piastri imagine and another for Lando 💗💗

It wasn’t something Y/n gave much thought to. They had just gotten back from the Silverstone Grand Prix and, while Lando took a shower, she ran out to get food at the store. Usually the two would go out to party and what not, but, after a long weekend emotionally and physically, they had decided on cooking in the AirBnb for a slow, quiet night. Nonetheless, whilst she gathered ingredients for the chicken pasta she planned on making, Y/n passed the wide variety of fresh smelling bouquets the store had. She hesitated for a moment, wondering for just a split second if he would like them, but, ultimately, understood that it was a sweet gesture, so why not?

After that, she picked up the big bouquet of orange tulips and white daisies, and gave no more thinking space to it. She just propped them up in the cart and went on with her day.

Getting back to the rental, she opened the front door and shimmied through as she tried to balance the groceries in her hands. As if on cue, Lando turned the corner, black t-shirt clinging to his torso and biceps as his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

His eyebrows shot up at her struggling, “Baby! Let me help!” He said quickly as he took the multiple bags in her arms, leaving the bouquet in her hands.

Lando’s eyes lingered on the flowers clenched in her fist, confusion on his face as he set the bags down on the counter, “Why did you get flowers? We’re leaving this place tomorrow?”

Y/n giggled at her boyfriend’s misconception, “No, love, they aren’t for the house. They’re for you!”

It was safe to say that Lando’s confusion deepened as he turned his body fully to her and leaned his hip against the granite, “What do you mean?”

She walked closer to him, meeting him at the counter before wrapping her arms around his middle, “Yes! For you! Because you did so good today. I’m so proud of you, Lan.”

With her arms hugging him and the bright orange flowers she was pushing into his chest, Lando was at a loss for words. Never had it crossed his mind that when his girlfriend walked in with flowers they would be for him, but, alas, here he was. He opened and closed his mouth as she smiled up at him before he began slowly taking the petals out of her grasp.

Exhaling a breath, Lando stared back into her eyes, “Thank you, darling.” He didn’t expect the intense wave of emotions that overtook him, but he began to tear up at the thoughtful gesture for the person he cherished the most.

Y/n’s thoughts about this being nothing more than just a nice thing to him were quickly crushed at the small tear that flew down his cheek. Her smile faltered as her thumb glided across the wet cheek, “What’s going on? Do you not like them?”

He shook his head aggressively, “No, no, I love them. I- I love you. It’s ju- It’s just I’ve never had anyone get me flowers before. That’s a girl thing.”

She quickly laughed at her boyfriend’s comments as she continued stroking the soft skin of his face, “No, baby, it isn’t a girl thing. It’s an everyone thing. Everyone should get flowers at one point in their life, it’s such a warm thing.”

“Yeah, I’m learning that.” Lando chuckled through his tears. His hand that wasn’t holding the flowers held her waist as he leaned into her. His head fit in the crook of her neck well as he squeezed her tight, not knowing how else to thank her for providing him with a luxury in life he hadn’t even known was just that, a luxury.

She ran her hands through his hair in an attempt to soothe his emotional state which seemed to work as he pulled back slightly to peck her lips, whispering, “Really, though, thank you, my love. I’ve genuinely never felt this seen before. Flowers with an ‘I’m so proud of you’ really makes it feel like you are.”

She kissed him again as he shoved his head into her neck once more, “Well, I am. I’m so so proud of the person you are, the person you are turning out to be, and everything in between.”

Yeah, that made him cry more.

#f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you #mclaren #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri #i think this one is cute #ive been wanting to do this idea for a long ass time

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the-peak-tmnt · 1 month

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Oh no, the jig is up! This person has discovered my dark secret! I'm totally paying people to read my silly ninja turtle fanfic because it's just too unbelievable that people would read a long fic or leave long comments because of...

[checks comment again] ...high gas prices???

#I mean they're not wrong #i'm taking a long ass time to post #but thats because writing is hard #and despite what it may seem like #i do have a life outside of ninja turtles lol #reciprocity fic #reciprocity au #reciprocity tmnt #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic #mutant mayhem #tales of the tmnt #tales of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt mm #tmnt 2023 #tmnt mutant mayhem #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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youchangedmedestiel · 1 month

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Friend: What are you doing right now?

Me: I have a lot of projects.

Friend: Oh so cool, what are those? New job, new business, new home, new relationship?

Me: Ok, I have a lot of SPN/Destiel projects.

#when I tell my friends that I have a lot of things to do #and not enough time to progress as I'd wish #I'm talking about time to do all the spn or destiel projects I want to do #like finishing to publish my first destiel au fic #work on my two other long wip #write the other hundreds of destiel fic ideas I have #draw more #I'd love to draw art that goes with the fics I already posted on AO3 just to set the mood #rewatch the whole show and write meta #read hundreds of fics #watch the cockles panels I'm late for #maybe I forgot some #too many things to do and so little time #I also have to find a new home so yeah here you go #I also have projects that don't involve spn or destiel #but it's a pain in the ass #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #my destiel fanfic #destiel fanart #spn rewatch #cockles #jenmish #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fic

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growup-thatbeautiful · 1 year

Note

Can I get asking gym crush!Dave Lizewski to spot you and needing his help. I think that could spark a beautiful romance

a:n: yes of course!! if anyone wants more of this idea definitely give me any thoughts. college aged dave :)

It's embarrassing. You don't even know his name, and you've never once talked to him. Sometimes he comes in with his friends- two of them- but you haven't caught any information about him besides his frankly impressive workout routine. And it's not like you see him a lot; he comes here way less than you. Yet somehow he seems to be stronger than most other regulars at the gym.

It’s probably for the best that you don’t see him a lot, though. Because when he is there, you find it hard to focus on anything except for him. Everywhere you look he seems to be there in the corner of your eye or in the glimpse of the mirrored wall.

It's unfair, really. No one should be able to look that good while covered in sweat, his curls sticking up in every direction and matted to the back of his neck. The compression shirt that he's wearing is dark with sweat, but his expression doesn't look fazed at all.

Today, though, you're determined for it to be different. You have a few more reps you want to do at the machine, then your plan is to go to the bar and do squats. Then you have your usual cool-down mile and stretching routine. Distractions don't fit into your schedule, especially because you’re already bone-tired today.

You do the last rep, timing your breath in and out to your movement. There's a pleasant, constant tiredness in your legs that you’ve come to love, and the music blasting in your ears pushes you towards your next exercise.

Luckily, the bar is open and you’re able to start your set right away. Maybe it's because you're still a little bit sore from your last leg day, or maybe you're just not feeling it today, but it feels harder than usual. By the third set, your legs are shaking much more than usual and you’re having trouble getting through the reps.

It’s definitely not your smartest decision ever to keep going, but you really don’t to stop early. Some part of you thinks that you can just push through and make it; the reasonable part of you is saying that you’re going to need someone to spot you.

Looking around, you don’t see anyone you know- no friends or friends of a friend. It’s relatively empty for the time of day, but you need to ask someone to spot you.

And in the opposite corner of the gym, there he is. He’s not doing any reps, and from the way he’s checking his phone you don’t think that he’s in the middle of any.

You try to tell yourself that everyone else is busy and he’s the only option, but you know it’s not true. Even if he was busy, you would wait for him to finish and ask him anyways. There’s no telling when you’re going to have another opportunity like this to talk to him- at least you have an excuse to go up to him.

If your legs weren’t already shaking, they are as you walk over towards him. It’s a sin, for him to look at good as he does without really doing anything at all. Your own music blasting through one of your dangling earbuds isn’t enough to calm your nerves. He’s wearing headphones too, so he can’t hear you coming, and he seems immersed in whatever he’s doing, so you stand there awkwardly while he finishes. When he looks up at you, a smile makes its way across his face, and he holds out his hand for you to shake it, not caring about the obvious sweat.

You tell him your name and shake him hand, your stomach doing flips the whole time.

He, in turn, introduces himself. “I’m Dave. Do you need something?” He says it with a pleasant tone, but he must think that he’s been rude because he backtracks immediately. “Shit, that sounded rude, sorry. I just- people don’t usually come up to me.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a laugh. “I actually wanted to ask you if you could spot me. I only have a few sets left.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He looks genuinely excited at your request, and he dutifully follows you to your rack.

You take a deep breath and look at the weights waiting for you. The soreness in your body seems worse now that he’s there standing behind you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you take another breath, it sounds a lot like a sigh. You’re thrilled that he’s willing to help you, but you don’t want him to think you’re weak.

“Hey, you got this,” he says lowly. “I’ve seen you do this a million times before, it’s just another rep, yeah?”

You don’t have the brainpower to think about him saying he’s seen you do this before because all of your thoughts go to his hand on your back, gently urging your forward towards the bar. He doesn’t say anything more, but the message is received.

You step underneath the bar and stand up straight, the bar’s weight settling into your shoulders. You can’t see Dave behind you, but you can feel the heat of his hands underneath your arms as he supports you.

You breathe in. Go down.

Breathe out. Push yourself up.

Do it again. And again 8 more times before stepping forward to rerack the weights.

When you turn around, Dave is looking up at the ceiling, his hands straight down at his sides. You fix your hair and pause your music before taking a sip of water.

“Dave?” you ask. “You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was checking you out,” he explains while he brings his eyes to yours. “M’not gonna be that guy.”

“I appreciate it,” you respond, your heart warming at the sentiment. “Really, I do. But I wouldn’t mind you looking.” It’s not exactly the most subtle hint you’ve ever given a guy, but something tells you that subtle isn’t the right approach with Dave.

“What?” He really looks clueless as to what you’re talking about, his head tilted to the side. Your brain helpfully supplies you with “puppy dog.”

Too subtle, then. “Do you want to get coffee after this?” You’re positive that your smile is uncertain and crooked.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yes, you,” you laugh. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’d like that, too.” The grin on his face is wide and full, bringing light and laugh lines to his eyes. You haven’t seen this smile from him yet, which is probably a good thing because it has a dangerous effect on you. “You have another set left,” he informs you. “So why don’t we finish that up and go get coffee after?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, stepping back underneath the bar, a renewed vigor in your legs. That vigor, of course, goes away when you actually start the last set.

You do the first five without an issue, but you start struggling more with the sixth. By the eighth rep, you’re face is twisted with effort and you can barely get back up.

Dave doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s there. And his presence is fully reassured to you when he mutters close to your ear, “Come on, just a few more. I’m right here.”

He has to help you with the last rep, his arms supporting you underneath your armpits as he takes some of the weight off and helps you get back the the rack. It forces him much closer to you than before, and you can feel his heart racing against your back. You know yours is beating just as fast.

“Thank you,” you tell him, a little bit out of breath still. “You’re a live-saver.”

A funny look comes across his face at that, but it clears away in a blink. “Anytime.”

“How about that coffee?” you ask, grabbing your keys and water before shooting a quick text to your friends so they know where you’re going. Then, holding out your hand, you say, “It’s the least I can do.”

He takes your hand in between his own, leading you towards his own pile of things. “I know a good place around here.”

“Lead the way,” you tell him.

Maybe asking for his help wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

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watchyourbuck · 1 month

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wip wednesday ☆

tagged by @tizniz @diazheartsbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 and @cal-daisies-and-briars thank you all! 🩷

okay so in the spirits of getting my writing beans back, im gonna share a snippy from the divorced!buddie au that's already over 11k but im currently rewriting and adding so !!! id love some feedback bc im on chapter two and i feel stuck

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Silence wasn’t uncomfortable, never had it been. Most of the time they communicated without words, even after the divorce. Even when they couldn’t stand to look at each other. Chris’ well being pulled them back together. Still, this silence, this look… it made Buck hurt. “Please,” he whispered, watching Eddie’s face go through the seven stages of grief. They couldn’t do this, not right now. “Fuck me, please. Just—,” he said, his voice threatening to break. “Just fuck me. Please?”

Eddie’s eyes traveled all the way down his features, stopping on his lips. His other hand came up to cup Buck’s face, pulling him down as he nodded.

Buck got the message. He closed his own eyes, kissing Eddie like it was the last time. He guessed he could never really know when that would be true.

Eddie walked them back to the bedroom, a little gentler this time, leading Buck by the belt loops. As soon as they walked inside, he turned to look at the layout, huffing out a positive sound when he realized most things were the same. Buck pretended not to notice, chasing after Eddie’s lips.

The last time they had kissed in this exact room, Buck had already lost him.

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tagging in return @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @diazsdimples @bigfootsmom @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @dadbodbuck @devirnis @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie-im-bi @monsterrae1 @lonelychicago @queerdiazs @queerdiaz @saybiwithme @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @evcn @sonofatoasterwaffle @smilingbuckley @eddiebabygirldiaz @bucks-daddy-issues @beyourownanchor6 ✨ let me know if you wish to be added or removed <33

#anyway I’m struggling w this one !!!!!#I love it and hate it at the same time #also haven’t done of these in a long ass time #911 #911 abc #911 fox #911 tv show #buddie #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 on abc #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie wip #911 wip

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winter-sol · 10 months

Text

no shame

*word count: 7k *pairing: afab! reader / leviathan *contents: ! NSFW minors pls dni. pegging. anal sex. demon form/monsterfucking. begging. submissive levi. degrading. praising. handjob. tail-fucking. leviathan has two dicks. reader has afab anatomy and it's described as such. porn with feelings. cheesy ending, i can't help it. (no beta, pls forgive any mistake) *summary: Leviathan gets his ass fucked with a strap-on in his demon form. You give him the right balance between degrading and loving him 🖤 *a/n: guess who's back (?) this fic had been hiding in my drafts for about 5 months while being like 95% completed. i figured it had the right to be finished and see the light. i enjoyed way too much writing it, so pls enjoy it with me uwu

also at ao3 here 🖤

“It’s okay, hey. It’s okay. Look at me”.

The soothing sound of your words resonates deeply within him, and like a fresh intake of air, you are able to calm his nerves if only slightly.

Certainly, he doesn’t remember the last time he was in that position, so… exposed and vulnerable. But his excitement is stronger and there’s no way he’s stopping this now that you two decided to give it a try.

“MC…” He says your name while he lifts a timid hand and touches your chest, fingers slowly running down you soft skin from your breasts to your belly in an electrifying sensation that tingles through your spine with the way he softly rubs in small circles, as much as he can reach, before continuing to travel lower.

He shyly looks up to you, directly meeting your gaze, and the tenderness that finds you in there would almost look out of place with such a delicate expression if it weren’t for the darkness that’s starting to engulf the color of his eyes. Then, his index and middle finger move to brush over the length of the soft, pastel pink dildo attached to your hips with a touch that seems so delicate but hides an enticing intention. You’re unable to look away.

In a captivating gesture, his finger gets to the tip, and he gives it a faint caress, circling the head in a movement so gentle and full of desire you barely forget to breathe from anticipation.

Shit.

You grab his hand and take it to the length of the toy, and placing your own above his, you guide it to embrace the thick girth and move it down in a firm but steady grip, letting him feel the texture and size of it.

“Mmm… Fuck…” He lets out in a breathy voice, closing his eyes and clearly enjoying what he’s touching. The big, imposing toy was chosen carefully between the two of you for this special occasion, with the sole purpose of meeting Leviathan’s strict demands. The length, girth and texture had to be perfect, for it to touch and stimulate his sensitive zones maximizing the pleasure. As the pervert he is, it could only be an extra-large sized dildo with a rugous texture on its borders.

Just by touching it with his fingers he can feel already excited to be fucked with it, by you precisely, in your room, within this intimate and comfortable space for the two of you.

You carefully observe how Levi gets turned on watching and touching the toy, and you feel the need to start to advance in the act. You reach out for the lube near the border of the bed and pour a generous amount on the tip. The transparent liquid is smeared into your palm and you pass it through the length of the dildo, covering it with the substance and easing the movement through it.

Your hands keep a steady pace, up and down, and even though you can’t feel a thing, the action is erotic enough to make your own body respond to it, your pussy moistening in expectation as you look at how Leviathan’s eyes are set on you, hypnotized. He’s laying on his back completely exposed in his demonic form, and the desire that runs strongly through you wants to have more of him, to feast on what he’s offering so generously.

“Baby… Now I want to touch you some more… Can I?" Your voice comes out low and sultry, impressing you a bit by its intensity. His eyes look for yours again, and after studying your expression, he gives you a shy smile, looking away with a red face.

“Y-Yeah… Please…”

You let go of his hand and proceed to accommodate yourself above him, brushing your fingers over his naked torso. Ah, it’s always a sight to behold, the strong muscles he always keeps hidden rising as his back arches when you touch him. You hear his heavy breathing and how he hums in delight.

Your hand goes down greedily until you get closer to his crotch, his untouched hard cocks demanding attention as they stand big and glistening under the lights. Bewitched by the sight, you don’t think twice and palm one of his erections, the upper one, making him gasp at the motion.

“A-Ah! MC!”

It’s cute how desperate he can get, how touch starved he is. Funnily, it’s not like you’re any different with how much you need him all the time but seeing him like this will always have a strong effect on you. Lust immediately takes over you, and you decide to please him as your touch gets stronger, grabbing his erection fully with a firm grip.

A high-pitched cry comes out of him as your already soaked hand feasts in his ecstasy. As always, you can’t help but notice how big your demon is, your hand seeming so small and delicate compared to the huge, monstrous cock it’s holding. Sensing your mouth watering a bit, you admire the deliciously perfect sight beneath you, his face already red and expressive as he longingly looks at what you’re doing.

You let him go for a moment, getting a discontent grunt in return. “Patience, love,” you say as you grab the lube once more and pour it messily on both of his dicks. The coldness must’ve been unpleasant since it makes him hiss, but as soon as your hand touches him again, he relaxes and lets himself go with the sensation.

You stroke your fingers over his lower one and you feel it twitch under the attention it’s finally receiving. Repeating the act, Leviathan nests his head on the pillow and his gaze sets to the ceiling, weakened by the weight of the pleasure he starts to feel, letting out an airy and silent groan. His neck is left exposed as inviting you, skin creamy and lightly shiny by the sweat it’s starting to appear in there.

At seeing how much he’s feeling it, you tease that one for a couple of seconds, pressing into its length and dragging it through it until you finally decide to indulge him some more and grab both on each hand.

“Ah, fuck! Ah…” The loud, clear whine echoes through the walls as his eyes now close tightly for a second and he bites his lower lip. He opens his heavy eyes once again and looks at you with a needy expression, whispering “M-More…”

You can’t help but smirk at his reaction, your own want growing and making you a bit more desperate too. Motivated by his petition, you start to move your hands slow but firmly in a tight grip, smooth by the lubricant. Light squelching sounds start to be noticeable with the wet and slippery movements of your hands on his hot dicks, Leviathan’s breathing turning faster and heavier as his eyes close and he unconsciously spreads even further his toned thighs, losing himself in the pleasant sensation.

The sight of his exquisite body completely naked beneath you, so submissive and given, is irresistible, driving your head to become dizzy from lust for him. The sensation of his two inhuman cocks in your hands is unholy as they move driven only by the purpose of filling the powerful demon with ecstasy, who can’t stop letting out soft and impure moans with every assault to his body, as in a completely deliriant state that’s out of his control while his long snake tail is swaying, wrinkling the sheets below.

A petty desire grows and burns intensely in your sex at the lewd display, but for now is ignored as this is for him, for his pleasure, for you to see how much you can ruin him and soothe him in the same night. You guess you’ll have your chance to find your own release later, so you choose to not worry for now and focus on him.

You notice how his beautiful lashes flutter and he opens his eyes slowly, unfocused gaze searching disoriented before setting his gaze on you for a few seconds, locking it on you. Then, he looks away distracted by something.

“What is it, love? Am I hurting you?”

“Ah… No, I…” He looks around some more. “Could you pass me the lube?”

So he was looking for that. Intrigued, you stop your ministrations for a moment as you follow his order, handing him the small bottle that he receives without meeting your eyes again. He opens the lid and pours some on his index and middle finger, rubbing them to warm the liquid, clearly letting you know his next movement.

He tosses the botte aside with blushed cheeks and… Wait, is he really avoiding your gaze? Does he have the audacity to feel ashamed right now? Whatever is happening inside his mind, he ends up anyways placing his fingers over his entrance, starting to tease it himself.

He closes his eyes, and his brow is somewhat furrowed while he concentrates on the motion, toying with his hole in slow, soft movements to begin the preparation for the intrusion that’s to come.

You notice he doesn’t take too long easing the muscle and he starts to push his fingers in his hole, his fired up body having responded already to this foreplay, lubricating and dilating where he needs it.

“Everything ok? What do I do to help?” you say awkwardly. You’ve read stuff like this before but honestly, what do you even know about doing this to a man, or demon, in real life?

“I-I’m fine… I’ve done this before plenty of times. Just… don’t stop… what you were doing, please…” He finishes that sentence in a lower volume, almost whispering.

“Ok… Just tell me anything you need…” You answer as your hands resume its movements, though in a much lighter grip so he can concentrate while still receiving a tender tickle of pleasure.

He’s not much better than you, it seems. Even if he has played with himself before, used toys and all, he is as inept as you at doing with someone else like this. You let it go and keep touching his erections while he teases himself. Of course, you can’t help but look, curiosity and desire making it unable to look away as he enters two fingers while you keep attending him with your hands.

His fingering is careful and slow, taking his time in accommodating the action. You watch as he enters them deeper and makes circulating movements stretching it open, and after a moment, searching for a sensation he knows very well. Levi covers his mouth with a hand as he fondles a sensitive spot inside, letting out a surprised moan and his body giving a small shiver.

The sound of his sweet and desperate sound makes you feel drunk from desire, and you can’t help getting closer to his warm body, the musky scent that emanates from him becoming increasingly more intoxicating while you position your face in front of his, and press a soft kiss on his lips that he receives with complete submission. You let go one of his erections in order to support your arm by the side of his head, cleaning your hand just enough with the sheet before bringing it closer to his wet bangs and moving them softly, brushing them back from his forehead and uncovering his mesmerizing face. He turns his gaze back to you and whispers close to your mouth, “W-What are you doing?”

Smiling, you answer while caressing his forehead and his temple. “Nothing, I just wanted to see your pretty face, hehe”. You press another wet kiss to his mouth, and then you start to cover his lips and the skin around them with soft pecks. “I love you so much… You’re going to give yourself to me, right?”

Levi enjoys each one of your kisses, without presenting any resistance. His body shivers from the satisfaction it's receiving from your attention and his own fingers working inside him. Between little moans, he says with a faint, thirsty voice, “Y-Yes… I’m yours right now… Don’t stop kissing me, please…”

With those words, you proceed to claim his mouth passionately, in a long, wet kiss, your tongue assaulting his and slowly licking it, the movement of your other hand on his cock now faster. He responds with the same intensity, melting in the heat and pleasure as his own movements gain more speed.

Frantically, he fucks himself with his long digits, thrusts sharp and deep, breaking the kiss to catch his breath. His sunset gaze is set on you as his body starts filling with pleasure until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore as he keeps nudging his sweet spot. A throaty grunt comes out while the merciless pace fills the room with filthy, wet sounds from the lube and his own fluids. “Fuck… Ah!”

And after a moment, you watch as he decides to slow down the action to restrain himself before he surrenders to his own enjoyment too soon.

“Ah… I think that’s enough,” he murmurs in between pants. “I… I can… take more…” His voice is low and slightly shy as he pronounces those words, clearly conveying what he wants next.

“O-Ok... Just in case, do you wanna start with a smaller one?” You ask carefully, wanting to make sure he’s ready for it.

“No, no, don’t worry... I can take it, I’m sure.” He says with more confidence in his tone, but still not directly looking at you. You smile at his impatience and decide to tease him. “Of course. My little baby has put who knows how many things in there, hasn’t he? Haha.”

He gives you a startled look “You- You have to do that now? I-Idiot, I’m gonna take revenge, you know?”

You laugh at his words, his tsundere demeanor never failing to be as ridiculous as endearing, and you kiss his cheek with a wet peck before softly telling him “I’ll be waiting for that then”.

You sit back to prepare for what’s coming next. Once you get a view from above, you can see the wrecked state he’s into. His silky hair is disheveled around his imponent black and blue horns, staring at you between narrowed eyes and blushed cheeks, and his velvety, moist lips slightly parted that seem to invite you to kiss them one more time. A thin layer of sweat covers his large body, rising and falling with his heavy breathing, his legs spread and his arms weakly lying at each side as his long and thick tail encircles his perfect frame above the bed, the tip swaying in delicate waves.

You suddenly feel small and pathetic above such a sight, how can you even fuck him? You, a mere human, who’s about two heads shorter than him. He has the strength to break you in a second, yet he’s offering himself to you right now with the most sinful and tempting sight you could’ve imagined. It must look so funny from the outside. How in the world could you be so lucky? You don’t understand.

Still, this is no time to overthink, and giving yourself some courage, you reach once again for the poor discarded bottle of lube. You spread more content on the pink dildo, smearing it through the length with one hand while, with the other, you reach for his thigh, caressing his soft skin to let him know you’re there with him, for what’s to come now. A lazy smile decorates his beautiful features as he pierces you with his intense eyes.

After you deem it’s ready, you position yourself above him, setting the toy near his entrance. You hear him sigh in anticipation while you place the tip, pressing lightly into him.

“Are you ok…?” you ask sheepishly.

“Y-Yeah… Are you?”

“…I think I am.” You pause, inhaling slowly to fill your lungs with air and get ready. “I… I’ll put it in.”

His voice is quiet and sweet, waiting patiently. “Ok…”

You enter the toy slowly into him, burying it deeper while you look at his expression for any sign of discomfort. It’s thick and long so you worry for a second, but he seems relaxed enough, his eyes closing softly while it happens, like he knew exactly what to anticipate. It seems like his body gives into it without much resistance, helping to calm your own nerves. You wish you could be… cooler right now. More dominant since that’s what Levi likes, what he’s really into. But you need to trust him, if he says he wants you, you’ll give it to him and hopefully get enough into it for both of your enjoyment.

As the toy is almost all the way in, you stop for him to accommodate to its thicker girth near the base. His breath is faster, but he opens his eyes and looks at you through a heavy gaze. You caress his thighs while you wait, and after some seconds, he speaks.

“I’m fine. You can move… please.” His tone is sweet and peaceful, enjoying from early on what’s happening. The small connection of this moment feels like an intimate secret only to share between the two of you. It soothes your nerves and impulses you to keep going, to give him what he’s asking.

With a fresh and warm determination, you obey his wish. “S-Sure. I’ll… move.”

You rock your hips back in control, not wanting to hurt him in any way, and once it’s almost all the way out, you push inside again up to the brim, feeling how he lets out a small, soft grunt in satisfaction at being filled like that.

Taking it as an invitation to continue, you establish a steady, slow pace, guiding yourself by his little initial reactions. As he's getting used to the movement of your hips, his brow furrows and he gasps softly, gradually starting to get consumed by the pleasing sensation that washes over him.

“Ah… Yeah, just like that…” Between small moans, Levi orders you to continue like this, his body muscles tensing a bit when you strike deep inside, but eventually he relaxes and surrenders to the sweet, thick sensation, his cheeks even redder and his luscious lips parted and his sounds escape from him. You concentrate on giving him a good time, studying his body language and noises as you keep rocking your hips at a steady pace, sinking into him over and over again. You can only trust in his words and hope you’re doing it well.

“Ah! MC… faster, go faster, please.”

For some reason, hearing him begging is doing many things to you. He’s so cute like this you want to wreck him, corrupt him even further, make him an even more sinful, wicked existence. Fuck his brains out until he’s crying your name.

You thrust harder this time, fastening the motion, hitting deep into him with each jolt of your hips. A throaty moan escapes from him as you hit his sensitive spot, singing your name in a sweet tone that hits directly into your own groin. You feel yourself getting more turned on and wet as you sense his reactions, wanting to drive rougher into him, to make that pretty blushed face corrupt in fervor.

If only you could feel him, feel his tight, hot walls squeezing the fake dick you’re penetrating him with, to feel the hotness that engulfs it. You can’t, you fucking can’t, but you’re so into it you simply need to set a frantic pace while you pound into him with all your strength to have that connection. To hell with it. Even if you can’t, you’ll make him feel it, you’ll force him to let you know how it feels. He’s yours right now, and no one else can ever give it to him.

“Ah! Ah, MC! Fuck, yes, just like that!” he whines loudly, his head thrown back and his torso arched as he falls more and more into rapture. You grab his thighs on each side, lifting them and grabbing them in a tight, violent grip while you plunge into him, nails burying into his creamy skin, glistening under the warm lights of the candles at the tree. You’ll never see a more ethereal, more immoral thing ever again. He’s absolutely perfect underneath you.

“You like that? Is that what you like? Hard and fast? Are you that dirty and indecent, Third Ruler of Hell?” Your voice is hoarse as you fall into rapture, suddenly not afraid anymore to talk to him like that.

“A-Aahhh, yes! MC! Please, give it to me!” He responds eagerly to your degradation, like the big fucking pervert he is. He desperately grabs the sheets as he surrenders to you, his face of pure ecstasy with heavy, rolled-back eyes and sweat glistening on his forehead and neck while you ram into him.

Provoked by his euphoric response to your brutality, you release one of his legs to bring your hand to his neck, pressing just below his jaw but without completely choking, not daring yet to do something like that. The moment you grab tightly to keep his neck in place, Levi lets out a choked and indecent sound of pleasure, enjoying immediately being subjected this way. “Aahhh… MC~”, he says with an exalted, shivering voice, the air from his ragged breathing is warm from his smiling mouth.

“Do you really enjoy me having you like that? Restrained and submitted while I’m fucking you hard? And you’re supposed to be an Admiral? How pathetic and disgusting you are, Leviathan…” You can’t help laughing at insulting him like that, especially when he only lets out another moan at your supposedly hurtful words.

“G-Grand Admiral, but yes… I am pathetic and disgusting, that’s what I am, right? A repulsive, creepy pervert, yet you still love me, right? Haaah, MC…” He says with a voice almost maddened from pleasure while he enjoys the grip of your hand and your hard movements inside him, hitting his most sensitive parts over and over again, filling him deep to the bottom.

Now a wicked smile decorates your face, losing yourself in the delicious spectacle your demon is offering you, his perversion and arousal filling you with desire for more. He really is a depraved otaku, but you can only feel a light heat in your chest when you hear how he wants to be reassured of your love even at a moment like this. “Yes… I love you… You, being a degenerate and all… You are mine, right?”

“Hmm!” Levi arches his back when a certain thrust hits right into his sweetest spot, and when you notice his reaction, you aim at it vigorously, hitting over and over again as he starts letting out a flow of high-pitched whines in a delicious staccato that resonates over the walls of your room. “Yes! I’m all yours, aah! Keep going, please, keep going right there, please!” He moans while you see his face contort with ecstasy, surrendering to you.

Answering his pleading, you give him what he asked with a few more pushes until you stop your actions and release his tense jaw, cutting him out of his pleasure in a cruel and sadistic act that makes him scream. “W-What are you doing?! N-No… D-Don’t stop,” he says with a begging gaze, quickly filling with tears of frustration at your lack of movement, “Please, n-no…”

His desperation is so adorable that you can only smile lovingly while you rub his sweaty forehead and his red cheeks. “Shh, shh, it’s ok, don’t cry, my love. I’m still here.” You whisper for him to ease his tension and relax a little bit, a small sob escaping his throat, but he decides to maintain his eyes on you while he tries to calm down and convince you. “I need you, please, please, keep going, don’t be mean… I love you, keep going, please.”

You give him a few sweet little kisses to his cheeks, one on the tip of his nose and another soft one on his lips. “I’ll keep going, Levi, I just need you to be good and listen to what I’ll say now, ok?” At the promise to continue, he can only nod desperately and beg a bit more, “Y-Yes, whatever you say, just do it, please…”

Sitting back and pulling away reluctantly from his warm and inviting body, you pull out the toy from inside him, which makes him let out a broken cry as if he was being deprived of the air he needs. “N-No…” he says now, releasing a couple of tears. The truth is, it’s not like you are necessarily a sadistic person, but the thing is it’s him who drives you to be this way right now, especially when he gets like this. But you know you wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t because he really enjoys It, he enjoys the desperation and the loss of control, and in this moment, you crave that control more than anything.

Smiling warmly at him, you instruct, “Turn around, my love, I want you on your knees and elbows right in front of me.” His eyes widen when he understands what you want, and with the little strength he can collect, he follows your orders and turns his back on you, exquisitely presenting you his ass and his broad back, a drop of sweat running down his neck. “L-Like this, right?”, he looks back at you expectantly and hopes to meet his lover’s expectations.

“Yeah, just like that. What a good boy you are… Hehe.” You tell him with a giggle while you position behind him, your hands running over the skin of his round butt and pulling out a shiver from his body. “Ahh…” he moans in approval while you start to rub circles through his cheeks and then squeeze them greedily with your hands. His tail undulates in a soft wave-like movement as he enjoys the attention you’re giving his ass, and you place one of your hands to the base of the appendage to give it a slow caress with two of your fingers, making him shudder and let out some small, choked moans.

“Y-You’re teasing… haha,” he says with a breathy, pained voice, arching his back to give you more access. “Hurry… up…”

At his attempt to order you around, you decide to punish him immediately with a slap to his cheek, the loud sound of your hand against his skin sounding through all the room along his whine of pain and pleasure that interrupts any word he was aiming to say. “Oh? You were saying something? Don’t be disrespectful, Leviathan.”

He bows his head and bites his lip at the demonstration of power, feeling a wicked desire for more humiliation. “Y-Yes…” he says before gulping, the movement of his torso showing how heavy his breathing is right now, “B-But… I can’t promise to behave… haha…” he dares to say with a soft, high voice before letting out a giggle sick from lust.

He really sounds delicious when you turn him desperate like that, and before you answer, you decide to claim him yours. With your other hand, you align the tip of the dildo with his ass again, making him choke in a whimper. “Ah, I see… You don’t want to keep your dignity at all… It’s ok, if that’s what you want so badly, you disgusting little fuck,” you pronounce before easily inserting the toy in his already open entrance, wet by his fluids and the lube, receiving it once again without any resistance.

“Ohhh, yes… Please, fill me, love,” he whispers, absolutely surrendered to the sensation, forgetting any other comeback he had in his mind a second ago. Once you put the dildo all the way in, it doesn't take long for you to start moving your hips, pulling it out and pushing it inside repeatedly while you grab his ass with your hands to steady yourself and hold him closer to your hips as you keep fucking him. You notice how he begins to lose himself in pleasure as he drops his weight on the bed, leaving only his back half in the air and burying his face in the pillow, drowning his loud, beautiful moans in it.

You focus your concentration on his pleasure, on how his body trembles and moves alongside yours in total synchronization, his hips and thighs slamming against yours over and over again, the sound of skin hitting skin loud and dirty. Just to enjoy his reaction, you decide to add another sound to the symphony by slapping his butt again, Levi letting out a scream as his cheek turns red from the violent action. "More! Give me more! “Nggh…!” he says desperately, asking you for more of the brutality that you don't hesitate for a second to give him again. “Yeah? Is that how much of a bitch you’re going to be with me?” You pronounce hotly before repeating the action two, three times, causing him to raise his head only to breathe easier between ecstatic grunts.

“Come here,” you whisper almost hatefully as you reach out to grab Leviathan by his hair and bring him towards you, lifting his body and supporting him with your other arm, circling it through his slim waist and positioning your hand on his abs. Your fingers in his damp hair grip the strands tightly, pulling it in an act of pure subjugation of the demon that he lets himself enjoy while his eyes narrow and roll back, his half-open mouth letting out small gasps.

You suddenly feel his tail start wrapping around your leg first, and then by your hips simply to touch you a little bit more, deliciously rubbing his scaly texture against your body that you didn't know needed attention so badly until now. The tip naughtily approaches your crotch, and you honestly have no idea how Levi bothers to do it while he seems to be delirious from the sensations he's receiving, but you greatly appreciate it when he touches your clit, making you tremble with pleasure, interrupting your movements. That does not go unnoticed by the demon who, unable to turn back to look at you from the grip on his hair, tells you softly and sweetly, “You like that, right? Keep going, love… I will take care of you...”

“...” You’re speechless for a second. This idiot has no right to make you feel so warm inside while you fuck him right in the ass, but he does. He does, and it makes your desire to finish him and ruin him even stronger. You resume your movements immediately, the pleasure beginning to fill you, motivating your hips even more as you thrust hard and deep, the tingling sensation of your own ecstasy making you join his chorus of moans and pants.

The hand that was holding his abdomen now goes down, and you take as much of his two huge penises as you can to give him the satisfaction he deserves for being so adorable, so him. Smiling maniacally and pulling his hair towards you, you begin to whisper close to his ear, encouraging him to find his satisfaction and finish. “Do it, my love, come. You are so beautiful and perfect, give it to me, come for me…”

"Mmm! Yes… Aah! MC! I'm close…!" The demon cries loudly as you penetrate him hard, his voice now raspy from whining so desperately. The contrast between the rough sex and your now sweet words make him lose his mind immensely. Your hips slam again and again, impaling him with the long, thick dildo that stimulates every part of his insides, the wet, slippery sounds only exciting you more to continue doing it, bringing your demon closer to his climax as he is being stimulated by both sides, your hand desperately pumping his erections wet by pre-come. You let go of his hair in order to caress his warm chest now, touching his nipples and squeezing them in an action done only to get the greatest amount of pleasure out of him, his sweet and desperate moans pointing out the fact that he is already on the verge of collapsing.

With the little consciousness left inside him, he makes sure his tail can give you a fair amount of the pleasure he’s receiving, and it slides forcefully between your folds, stimulating your clit over and over again before sliding the tip inside you, now fucking you while the wetness through all your cunt and nub makes your head dizzy with pleasure. Before you can come, you make sure it’s his turn first.

After a few more pounds, a loud and clear cry comes out of his throat, his body completely tense as he finally reaches his orgasm, deafened and dizzy from the intensity of it. A huge flow of liquid and almost transparent cum releases from both of his cocks that shamelessly stains the sheets of your bed and your hands, the slippery moisture serving as a great lubricant while you accompany him and pump him to finish his climax, the movement of your pounding in his ass now starting to calm down until you stop in order to not overstimulate the mess of a demon right now.

Leviathan’s body cannot support itself anymore, so you hold him up with your hand on his chest, the weight making the position difficult until you begin to let him slowly lower himself towards the bed, his mind completely blank and his body falling in his post-orgasmic state as only pants can be heard from him. You remove the dildo from his hole to let him lie down and rest weakly on the bed, as he also retires his tail from you. You miss the sensation immediately, but decide to wait for him to compose himself before you ask anything from him again.

As you take off the harness, you suddenly realize how tired you are, lying down next to him and wrapping your arm around his waist while you watch his heavy breathing begin to calm down. Smiling, you lean in to kiss his temple, and he turns to look at you softly, the unnaturally bright orange of his eyes resting on you. In one slow movement, you guide him to your chest, resting his head on it as you pet his hair and his horns, which makes him jump and laugh a little.

“I don't think I have any words,” he says in a husky voice before giving you a couple of pecks on your collarbone, and then adds “That was simply incredible… Holy shit, MC, haha…”

“I'm glad... Oh, and don't forget that you're not pathetic or disgusting, if you believe that shit I'll punch you.”

Leviathan chuckles softly as he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles into you even more. “I know… I trust you and I love you.”

Being filled with bliss, you hug him back and kiss his sweaty forehead. A few minutes pass like this, but the heat of his body is simply so pleasant that you lose yourself in it a little, pressing him harder against your chest and nuzzling his hair sweetly, a hint of desire escaping and reminding you that you’re still missing your own climax.

The demon notices your craving immediately, your hot body and your need for more physical contact revealing that you are still aroused. Levi lets out a playful giggle and says in a whisper, “I think I still have to take care of you, right? It would be cruel to leave you like this…”

“Ah… I can't help it, sorry,” you say in a strangely embarrassed voice, which is too adorable for him. He subtly moves his face up to look at you and smiles, whispering deliciously, “Don't apologize for anything, MC… I'm yours and you're mine… Let me just… give it to you…”

The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, but more than anything it's the strong anticipation that fills you right now. You smile back and bring his face closer to yours to give him a warm kiss that quickly turns passionate and wet, your tongues intertwining irresistibly. His arms wrap around you while your hands caress his hair, massaging his scalp full of devotion.

“Levi… Anything… Give me anything you can,” you say in a voice almost pained with hunger and desire as your eyes slowly close overwhelmed, to avoid looking at him so closely now that you're giving him the control. "Yes my love. Don't worry, Levi will take care of you,” he responds with almost the same intensity, but also happy to give you back even a part of everything you just gave him.

With a silent and sinister movement, you feel his tail again enveloping your thigh and rubbing your entrance, making you jump a little and let out a soft whine. “L-Levi…!” He looks at you studying your reaction while the tip of the scaly appendage begins to delightfully rub against your wet folds once again, satisfied to get that response out of you so quickly. “You like my tail… No matter what you say, you are as perverted as me…”

“H-Hey, don't insult me like that- Ah! Mmm…” you are able to answer him not so eloquently before you begin to give in to the pleasure. “...It's because it's perfect... You are perfect...”

He can't help but feel tremendously praised and content to receive those words, almost blushing as he usually does at any open display of affection from your part, but right now, that warmth only encourages him more to satisfy you and bring you to your climax. His tail continues to move playfully between your legs, stimulating on the outside before entering again, using its flexibility in order to touch everywhere it can reach, eliciting a string of sweet breathy moans from you. Right now, it sounds irresistible to his ears.

The sensation is simply too delicious, the tickling under your skin and the sensuality of the movements quickly taking you to the peak of your pleasure as you can only cry his name, still caressing and gripping his hair lovingly and desperately. One of his hands stops embracing you as he takes it to your abdomen, touching and fondling your stomach in small circles before traveling up to your breasts. He touches them gently at first, brushing the palm of his hand gently over your erect nipples, then rubbing them with his fingers. You let out a soft groan as he pinches one of the nubs, and then shamelessly squeezes your tit with his palm while he places a moist kiss to your jaw. The mixture of pleasant sensations becomes quickly too much for you.

“Ah! Levi, I’m… I’m coming…” you warn him some seconds before the inevitable, his voice a whisper of sweet nothings right in your ear. “Do it, come for me. You are so beautiful, so perfect, I love you. Don’t ever leave me, you’re mine forever, I love you…”

His cheesy words would make you hide ashamed in another context, but right now they only bring you to your orgasm while his tail, devoid of any mercy, continues to move strongly in your pussy, abusing your clit and rubbing the sweetest places inside you. You can't help the loud sounds that escape your throat, a high-pitched cry that Levi would drown out if he only reached and claimed your lips with his, but he decides to let the sound envelop him and enjoy the exquisite voice of your pleasure. Suddenly, you can only see white as your eyes shut and you feel your consciousness escape while your climax takes over you, the only thing grounding you to this place is the demon holding you against him.

“Yeah, that's right, just like that… Look at you, you're so warm and beautiful, my love…” He whispers while you convulse, caressing your thigh as his tail finally leaves your crotch, freeing you from any over-stimulation and letting you catch your breath. Heavy pants come out of your mouth while you fall completely limp on the sheets, letting yourself be cuddled by Levi, who’s tenderly pecking your face with little kisses before placing his face between your shoulder and your neck, letting you rest. “Yeah… so perfect and adorable,” he keeps murmuring.

…

Slowly, your thoughts come back into coherent shape, and all you can think about is how talkative he gets, especially when he's this excited. This man just won't shut the fuck up. Ever. But it’s fine, his voice is comforting in these moments of intimacy. With a slight smile, you kiss his sweaty forehead, convinced that you're not in much better shape. Everything is so warm and comfortable as he said, his body against yours feels like a comforting dream.

“That was fun, don't you think? Although I must admit… it makes me cringe a little now remembering-” You pause as you’re filled with sudden embarrassment. “Aaahhh, I'm sorry for saying so many strange things,” you tell him, strangely nervous. But he turns to look at you with an expression... similar to yours, his big eyes seeming to finally become aware of everything that happened.

“N-No, I-I, ahhh!” he says embarrassed as well, his face turning impossibly redder. “N-No, b-but no matter what, I won’t regret it! It was amazing! All I ever wanted! You are amazing and aaaggghhh-!” He blurts out to you, trying to reassure both of you that there is no reason to be ashamed, although his exaggerated expression is even more embarrassing to look at. You stare at him and laugh lightly. Nothing like a good cringey moment from Levi to forget your own discomfort.

“Okay, okay, baby… Everything's okay, haha…” you say with a softer voice as you press in to hug him closer and bury your face in his chest, hiding. You feel him embrace you back with an awkward giggle, both of you ignoring for now the deplorable state you're in and the need for a shower.

A smile decorates your face as you remember all you got to see and hear from him today. You strongly believe there’s no way this will be the first and last time you do this. Not after you had so much fun, despite the cringe.

There is still so much more you have to experience together. And you can’t wait for it.

#this is a long fic for being pure smut but you've been warned #obey me leviathan #obey me #obey me levi #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #leviathan smut #leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #the title is more for me y'all don't know how challenging this was to make so i needed some big ass determination and zero shame #i'm satisfied with the result tho #Winter writes

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badnewswhatsleft · 7 months

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2023 september - rock sound #300 (fall out boy cover) scans

transcript below cut!

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

With the triumphant ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ capturing a whole new generation of fans, Fall Out Boy are riding high, celebrating their past while looking towards a bright future. Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump reflect on recent successes and the lessons learned from two decades of writing and performing together.

WORDS: James Wilson-Taylor PHOTOS: Elliot Ingham

You have just completed a US summer tour that included stadium shows and some of your most ambitious production to date. What were your aims going into this particular show?

PETE: Playing stadiums is a funny thing. I pushed pretty hard to do a couple this time because I think that the record Patrick came up with musically lends itself to that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When we were designing the cover to the album, it was meant to be all tangible, which was a reaction to tokens and skins that you can buy and avatars. The title is made out of clay, and the painting is an actual painting. We wanted to approach the show in that way as well. We’ve been playing in front of a gigantic video wall for the past eight years. Now, we wanted a stage show where you could actually walk inside it.

Did adding the new songs from ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ into the setlist change the way you felt about them?

PATRICK: One of the things that was interesting about the record was that we took a lot of time figuring out what it was going to be, what it was going to sound like. We experimented with so many different things. I was instantly really proud. I felt really good about this record but it wasn’t until we got on stage and you’re playing the songs in between our catalogue that I really felt that. It was really noticeable from the first day on this tour - we felt like a different band. There’s a new energy to it. There was something that I could hear live that I couldn’t hear before.

You also revisited a lot of older tracks and b-sides on this tour, including many from the ‘Folie à Deux’-era. What prompted those choices?

PETE: There were some lean years where there weren’t a lot of rock bands being played on pop radio or playing award shows so we tried to play the biggest songs, the biggest versions of them. We tried to make our thing really airtight, bulletproof so that when we played next to whoever the top artist was, people were like, ‘oh yeah, they should be here.’ The culture shift in the world is so interesting because now, maybe rather than going wider, it makes more sense to go deeper with people. We thought about that in the way that we listen to music and the way we watch films. Playing a song that is a b-side or barely made a record but is someone’s favourite song makes a lot of sense in this era. PATRICK: I think there also was a period there where, to Pete’s point, it was a weird time to be a rock band. We had this very strange thing that happened to us, and not a lot of our friends for some reason, where we had a bunch of hits, right? And it didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t make sense to me. But there was a kind of novelty, where we could play a whole set of songs that a lot of people know. It was fun and rewarding for us to do that. But then you run the risk of playing the same set forever. I want to love the songs that we play. I want to care about it and put passion into what we do. And there’s no sustainable way to just do the same thing every night and not get jaded. We weren’t getting there but I really wanted to make sure that we don’t ever get there. PETE: In the origin of Fall Out Boy, what happened at our concerts was we knew how to play five songs really fast and jumped off walls and the fire marshal would shut it down. It was what made the show memorable, but we wanted to be able to last and so we tried to perfect our show and the songs and the stage show and make it flawless. Then you don’t really know how much spontaneity you want to include, because something could go wrong. When we started this tour, and we did a couple of spontaneous things, it opened us up to more. Because things did go wrong and that’s what made the show special. We’re doing what is the most punk rock version of what we could be doing right now.

You seem generally a lot more comfortable celebrating your past success at this point in your career.

PETE: I think it’s actually not a change from our past. I love those records, but I never want to treat them in a cynical way. I never want there to be a wink and a smile where we’re just doing this because it’s the anniversary. This was us celebrating these random songs and we hope people celebrate them with us. There was a purity to it that felt in line with how we’ve always felt about it. I love ‘Folie à Deux’ - out of any Fall Out Boy record that’s probably the one I would listen to. But I just never want it to be done in a cynical way, where we feel like we have to. But celebrating it in a way where there’s the purity of how we felt when we wrote the song originally, I think that’s fucking awesome. PATRICK: Music is a weird art form. Because when you’re an actor and you play a character, that is a specific thing. James Bond always wears a suit and has a gun and is a secret agent. If you change one thing, that’s fine, but you can’t really change all of it. But bands are just people. You are yourself. People get attached to it like it’s a story but it’s not. That was always something that I found difficult. For the story, it’s always good to say, ‘it’s the 20th anniversary, let’s go do the 20th anniversary tour’, that’s a good story thing. But it’s not always honest. We never stopped playing a lot of the songs from ‘Take This To Your Grave’, right? So why would I need to do a 20-year anniversary and perform all the songs back to back? The only reason would be because it would probably sell a lot of tickets and I don’t really ever want to be motivated by that, frankly. One of the things that’s been amazing is that now as the band has been around for a while, we have different layers of audience. I love ‘Folie à Deux’, I do. I love that record. But I had a really personally negative experience of touring on it. So that’s what I think of when I think of that record initially. It had to be brought back to me for me to appreciate it, for me to go, ‘oh, this record is really great. I should be happy with this. I should want to play this.’ So that’s why we got into a lot of the b-sides because we realised that our perspectives on a lot of these songs were based in our feelings and experiences from when we were making them. But you can find new experiences if you play those songs. You can make new memories with them.

You alluded there to the 20th anniversary of ‘Take This To Your Grave’. Obviously you have changed and developed as a band hugely since then. But is there anything you can point to about making that debut record that has remained a part of your process since then?

PETE: We have a language, the band, and it’s definitely a language of cinema and film. That’s maintained through time. We had very disparate music tastes and influences but I think film was a place we really aligned. You could have a deep discussion because none of us were filmmakers. You could say which part was good and which part sucked and not hurt anybody’s feelings, because you weren’t going out to make a film the next day. Whereas with music, I think if we’d only had that to talk about, we would have turned out a different band. PATRICK: ‘Take This To Your Grave’, even though it’s absolutely our first record, there’s an element of it that’s still a work in progress. It is still a band figuring itself out. Andy wasn’t even officially in the band for half of the recording, right? I wasn’t even officially the guitar player for half of the recording. We were still bumbling through it. There was something that popped up a couple times throughout that record where you got these little inklings of who the band really was. We really explored that on ‘From Under The Cork Tree’. So when we talk about what has remained the same… I didn’t want to be a singer, I didn’t know anything about singing, I wasn’t planning on that. I didn’t even plan to really be in this band for that long because Pete had a real band that really toured so I thought this was gonna be a side project. So there’s always been this element within the band where I don’t put too many expectations on things and then Pete has this really big ambition, creatively. There’s this great interplay between the two of us where I’m kind of oblivious, and I don’t know when I’m putting out a big idea and Pete has this amazing vision to find what goes where. There’s something really magical about that because I never could have done a band like this without it. We needed everybody, we needed all four of us. And I think that’s the thing that hasn’t changed - the four of us just being ourselves and trying to figure things out. Listening back to ‘Folie’ or ‘Infinity On High’ or ‘American Beauty’, I’m always amazed at how much better they are than I remember. I listened to ‘MANIA’ the other day, and I have a lot of misgivings about that record, a lot of things I’m frustrated about. But then I’m listening to it and I’m like ‘this is pretty good.’ There’s a lot of good things in there. I don’t know why, it’s kind of like you can’t see those things. It’s kind of amazing to have Pete be able to see those things. And likewise, sometimes Pete has no idea when he writes something brilliant, as a lyricist, and I have to go, ‘No, I’m gonna keep that one, I’m gonna use that.’

On ‘So Much (For) Stardust’, you teamed up with producer Neal Avron again for the first time since 2008. Given how much time has passed, did it take a minute to reestablish that connection or did you pick up where you left off?

PATRICK: It really didn’t feel like any time had passed between us and Neal. It was pretty seamless in terms of working with him. But then there was also the weird aspect where the last time we worked with him was kind of contentious. Interpersonally, the four of us were kind of fighting with each other… as much as we do anyway. We say that and then that myth gets built bigger than it was. We were always pretty cool with each other. It’s just that the least cool was making ‘Folie’. So then getting into it again for this record, it was like no time has passed as people but the four of us got on better so we had more to bring to Neal. PETE: It’s a little bit like when you return to your parents’ house for a holiday break when you’re in college. It’s the same house but now I can drink with my parents. We’d grown up and the first times we worked with Neal, he had to do so much more boy scout leadership, ‘you guys are all gonna be okay, we’re gonna do this activity to earn this badge so you guys don’t fucking murder each other.’ This time, we probably got a different version of Neal that was even more creative, because he had to do less psychotherapy. He went deep too. Sometimes when you’re in a session with somebody, and they’re like, ‘what are we singing about?’, I’ll just be like, ‘stuff’. He was not cool with ‘stuff’. I would get up and go into the bathroom outside the studio and look in the mirror, and think ‘what is it about? How deep are we gonna go?’ That’s a little but scarier to ask yourself. If last time Neal was like a boy scout leader, this time, it was more like a Sherpa. He was helping us get to the summit.

The title track of the album also finds you in a very reflective mood, even bringing back lyrics from ‘Love From The Other Side’. How would you describe the meaning behind that title and the song itself?

PETE: The record title has a couple of different meanings, I guess. The biggest one to me is that we basically all are former stars. That’s what we’re made of, those pieces of carbon. It still feels like the world’s gonna blow and it’s all moving too fast and the wrong things are moving too slow. That track in particular looks back at where you sometimes wish things had gone differently. But this is more from the perspective of when you’re watching a space movie, and they’re too far away and they can’t quite make it back. It doesn’t matter what they do and at some point, the astronaut accepts that. But they’re close enough that you can see the look on their face. I feel like there’s moments like that in the title track. I wish some things were different. But, as an adult going through this, you are too far away from the tether, and you’re just floating into space. It is sad and lonely but in some ways, it’s kind of freeing, because there’s other aspects of our world and my life that I love and that I want to keep shaping and changing. PATRICK: I’ll open up Pete’s lyrics and I just start hearing things. It almost feels effortless in a lot of ways. I just read his lyrics and something starts happening in my head. The first line, ‘I’m in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now’, instantly the piano started to form to me. That was a song that I came close to not sending to the band. When I make demos, I’ll usually wait until I have five or six to send to everybody. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna like this. It’s too moody or it’s not very us. But it was pretty unanimous. Everyone liked that one. I knew this had to end the record. It took on a different life in the context of the whole album. Then on the bridge section, I knew it was going to be the lyrics from ‘Love From The Other Side’. It’s got to come back here. It’s the bookends, but I also love lyrically what it does, you know, ‘in another life, you were my babe’, going back to that kind of regret, which feels different in ‘Love From The Other Side’ than it does here. When the whole song came together, it was the statement of the record.

Aside from the album, you have released a few more recent tracks that have opened you up to a whole new audience, most notably the collaboration with Taylor Swift on ‘Electric Touch’.

PETE: Taylor is the only artist that I’ve met or interacted with in recent times who creates exactly the art of who she is, but does it on such a mass level. So that’s breathtaking to watch from the sidelines. The way fans traded friendship bracelets, I don’t know what the beginning of it was, but you felt that everywhere. We felt that, I saw that in the crowd on our tour. I don’t know Taylor well, but I think she’s doing exactly what she wants and creating exactly the art that she wants to create. And doing that, on such a level, is really awe-inspiring to watch. It makes you want to make the biggest, weirdest version of our thing and put that out there.

Then there was the cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, which has had some big chart success for you. That must have taken you slightly by surprise.

PATRICK: It’s pretty unexpected. Pete and I were going back and forth about songs we should cover and that was an idea that I had. This is so silly but there was a song a bunch of years ago I had written called ‘Dark Horse’ and then there was a Katy Perry song called ‘Dark Horse’ and I was like, ‘damn it’, you know, I missed the boat on that one. So I thought if we don’t do this cover, somebody else is gonna do it. Let’s just get in the studio and just do it. We spent way more time on those lyrics than you would think because we really wanted to get a specific feel. It was really fun and kind of loose, we just came together in Neal’s house and recorded it in a day. PETE: There’s irreverence to it. I thought the coolest thing was when Billy Joel got asked about it, and he was like, ‘I’m not updating it, that’s fine, go for it.’ I hope if somebody ever chose to update one of ours, we’d be like that. Let them do their thing, they’ll have that version. I thought that was so fucking cool.

It’s also no secret that the sound you became most known for in the mid-2000s is having something of a commercial revival right now. But what is interesting is seeing how bands are building on that sound and changing it.

PATRICK: I love when anybody does anything that feels honest to them. Touring with Bring Me The Horizon, it was really cool seeing what’s natural to them. It makes sense. We changed our sound over time but we were always going to do that. It wasn’t a premeditated thing but for the four of us, it would have been impossible to maintain making the same kind of music forever. Whereas you’ll play with some other bands and they live that one sound. You meet up with them for dinner or something and they’re wearing the shirt of the band that sounds just like their band. You go to their house and they’re playing other bands that sound like them because they live in that thing. Whereas with the four of us and bands like Bring Me The Horizon, we change our sounds over time. And there’s nothing wrong with either. The only thing that’s wrong is if it’s unnatural to you. If you’re AC/DC and all of a sudden power ballads are in and you’re like, ‘Okay, we’ve got to do a power ballad’, that’s when it sucks. But if you’re a thrash metal guy who likes Celine Dion then yeah, do a power ballad. Emo as a word doesn’t mean anything anymore. But if people want to call it that, if the emo thing is back or having another life again, if that’s what’s natural to an artist, I think the world needs more earnest art. If that’s who you are, then do it. PETE: It would be super egotistical to think that the wave that started with us and My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco has just been circling and cycling back. I remember seeing Nikki Sixx at the airport and he was like, ‘Oh, you’re doing a flaming bass? Mine came from a backpack.’ It keeps coming back but it looks different. Talking to Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD when he was around, it’s so interesting, because it’s so much bigger than just emo or whatever. It’s this whole big pop music thing that’s spinning and churning, and then it moves on, and then it comes back with different aspects and some of the other stuff combined. When you’re a fan of music and art and film, you take different stuff, you add different ingredients, because that’s your taste. Seeing the bands that are up and coming to me, it’s so exciting, because the rules are just different, right? It’s really cool to see artists that lean into the weirdness and lean into a left turn when everyone’s telling you to make a right. That’s so refreshing. PATRICK: It’s really important as an artist gets older to not put too much stock in your own influence. The moment right now that we’re in is bigger than emo and bigger than whatever was happening in 2005. There’s a great line in ‘Downton Abbey’ where someone was asking the Lord about owning this manor and he’s like, ‘well, you don’t really own it, there have been hundreds of owners and you are the custodian of it for a brief time.’ That’s what pop music is like. You just have the ball for a minute and you’re gonna pass it on to somebody else.

We will soon see you in the UK for your arena tour. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

PETE: I remember the first time we went to the UK, I wasn’t prepared for how culturally different it was. When we played Reading & Leeds and the summer festivals, it was so different, and so much deeper within the culture. It was a little bit of a shock. The first couple of times we played, I was like, ‘Oh, my God, are we gonna die?’ because the crowd was so crazy, and there was bottles. Then when we came back, we thought maybe this is a beast to be tamed. Finally, you realise it’s a trading of energy. That made the last couple of festivals we played so fucking awesome. When you really realise that the fans over there are real fans of music. It’s really awesome and pretty beautiful. PATRICK: We’ve played the UK now more than a lot of regions of the states. Pretty early on, I just clicked with it. There were differences, cultural things and things that you didn’t expect. But it never felt that different or foreign to me, just a different flavour… PETE: This is why me and Patrick work so well together (laughs). PATRICK: Well, listen; I’m a rainy weather guy. There is just things that I get there. I don’t really drink anymore all that much. But I totally will have a beer in the UK, there’s something different about every aspect of it, about the ordering of it, about the flavour of it, everything, it’s like a different vibe. The UK audience seemed to click with us too. There have been plenty of times where we felt almost more like a UK band than an American one. There have been years where you go there and almost get a more familial reaction than you would at home. Rock Sound has always been a part of that for us. It was one of the first magazines to care about us and the first magazine to do real interviews. That’s the thing, you would do all these interviews and a lot of them would be like ‘so where did the band’s name come from?’ But Rock Sound took us seriously as artists, maybe before some of us did. That actually made us think about who we are and that was a really cool experience. I think in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t be the band we are without the UK, because I think it taught us a lot about what it is to be yourself.

Fall Out Boy’s ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is out now via Fueled By Ramen.

#the cover is so funny. like theyre cute but that is genuinely bug angle. that is bugs under a rock angle. THEYRE ALREADY SHORT KINGS #fall out boy #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #time capsule #read the charts #ANYWAY GO HERE. GO READ HERE. BECAUSE I SPENT A LONG TIME TRANSCRIBING EVEN THO TRNASNCRIBING SUCKKSSS #i looped the spell soundtrack like 5 times and got jusmpscared by track9 every time. and then i put on smfs<3 #patrick's comments about the mythologising of fob lore is so interesting #listen baby i know ur fed up and it's not ur fault but u have to understand. the story of ur band is on some genuine fanfic ass other level #the way they talk about neal avron is sooo funny #imagine being producer for this young band. and theyre brilliant but theyre also twentysomethings(derogatory)#also the way pete talks abt swift. lol. also why does he answer the q when patrick was the one in the studio lol???#ALSO also. pete being afraid of british ppl (valid and true)#and patrick pretty much taking to the uk like a duck to water (also valid and tru) is sooo funny #i rlly liked this interview i wiiiiish i got the bundle w the photobook and whatever but i was way too late :(((((((((

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sceebybeeby · 5 months

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"was i THAT obvious?"

#i don't remember if they exchanged letters in canon #or if fanfic brain decided this #but they did that now #athena cykes #juniper woods #junithena #i had so much fun with the lighting on this #for someone who hates drawinf braids i sure made my athena design have two long ass braids #also someone please notice the difference in how they open each other's letters #please i thought it was so clever

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melkintoyou · 1 year

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there's a blue light in my best friend's room

continuation of a stoner!mark ask word count: 1.5k

"Can you uh do something for me?" He whispered, trying to hold himself together.

"Mhmmm" you bit your lip and nodded.

"Can you be a good girl and touch yourself for me?"

Silence fell around the room, air thick with desire. All you could hear was the neediness in Mark’s voice and your own heart beating in your ears. You felt shyness mixed with excitement palpitate through your body. Mouth dry, you gulped.

Looking up at Mark, you fiddled with the bottle cap between your fingers before twisting it shut and putting the bottle away. You blinked at him, trying to find a single coherent response to utter at his request. But your mind was empty.

“Babyyy show me what you like.” He added, voice still low.

Enchanted by his words, it seemed as though your hands were moving before your mouth could catch up. You began to palm your breasts and they felt heavy in your small hands. Sighing at the feeling, your hands made their way to your torso and into your shorts. It was only when your fingers grasped how wet you had become, you snapped back to reality. Sliding your fingers through your folds, you let out a shy giggle.

“Mark..”

“I’m so wet..” You gasped, sliding two fingers inside you to really gather up all the evidence that you could. “See!” You brought your fingers closer to the camera, to show Mark how he made you feel. You separated your fingers that were still connected through your sticky arousal that glistened in the blue light.

Mark swore he was seeing stars. “Fuck baby.. Can you taste it for me?”

He pulled himself out his boxers, still slowly stroking himself. His eyes were fixed on you, when you lazily brought your digits to your mouth and wrapped your lips around them. Letting out an “mmm” sound with your eyes shut, you did as you were told. A good girl.

You opened your eyes to meet Mark’s hooded gaze and his hands languidly stroking his dick. You never imagined seeing him like this for the first time, through a screen. There was an ache in your core, longing to touch him, right there, in that very moment but alas, distance was your enemy tonight.

“It’s pretty” a shy whisper fell from your mouth as you got on your knees to remove your shorts, leaving you in just underwear. Mark took his bottom lip between his teeth, holding back a smile at your comment. You could hear his breathing grow heavier by the second.

“And so are you, turn around lemme see..” He licked his lips in anticipation. And when you turned around, sitting on your heels. Words like “dang” “baby” “fuck” rolled off Mark’s tongue and he babbled on about how pretty you look and how much he can’t wait to have you. Impatience and neediness was growing in his voice, you savoured every second of it.

Resting your hand on a pillow, your mind had a light bulb moment when you turned to your side. You grabbed the pillow and placed it under you. Now straddling the pillow, you looked at Mark with eyes saying “Can I?”

You could see his passive movements becoming more mindful when he gently spat in his hand and coated his heavy dick, grabbing it more intently than before. “You’re gonna drive me crazy baby..” He let out a sigh and light squelching noises filled the room with his airy breaths.

You tried to match his rhythm as you began to grind yourself onto the pillow. Heat radiating in your body, made your brain melt with each movement. Every time your clit rolled against the edge of the pillow, you felt dizzy. You let out a light sigh, rolling your hips.

Mark’s eyes scanned your body, the way you threw your head back, letting out soft moans.

“You sound so pretty baby, lemme hear you. Don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and his eyes trailed down to the strap of your tank, slowly slipping down your shoulder. Exposing your collar bones and the shape of your breast from the side.

Seeing your frame, outlined by the blue light was doing something to him. He fixated on your hard nipples, poking through the tank. He prayed for it to keep slipping further so he can get a view of your bare skin.

And, as his wish is granted, Mark thrusted up with a groan. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

It was late at night, the world around you was covered in muted greys, blues and silence. It felt absurd to be so needy that you both had to chase your pleasure through a screen. However, when it came to your feelings for Mark, nothing made sense.

Seeing his name pop up on your phone screen, made your head spin. The way your name sounded a little sweeter, in his mouth. A little safer. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you or the way he always held your hand and kissed randomly. Even his smell. You were crushing hard and you were down bad. Your mind was full of him.

Thinking about the day he kissed you. The way his lips delicately brushed yours before his tongue hungrily entered your mouth. Your movements got harder and Mark’s mouth fell open when his eyes found your hips. The way they were illuminated in the blue light, felt like a dream. The crease where your hips end and thigh begins had all of Mark’s attention as he worked his length. He wanted so desperately to be between those pillowy thighs that he contemplated leaving the tour half way through, just to be buried inside you.

“You’re doing so good for me baby” Mark coo’d, fucking into his fist. Mark was always so good with his words, his voice was raspy and slightly slurred from the thc and it went to your core. Your thighs gripped the pillow tighter as you fell forwards on your hands. You imagined using Mark’s chest for support. You imagined, running your hand up his chest until you reached his throat and how it would feel to grab it. Maybe give it a gentle squeeze whilst he's inside of you. Would he enjoy it? Would he twitch inside you, hitting your spot extra hard? Your mind trailed off, making you unravel by the second.

“That’s right baby, fuck yourself good for me.. show me how you cum.” Mark continued to egg you and you thought all of this could only be a result of madness. The madness of desire you both felt towards each other. Everything felt euphoric and you felt your orgasm approaching. The heat in your core was slowly rising up, making your thighs shake and your moans louder.

“You sound so pretty baby.. keep going” Mark continued to talk you through it as he chased his own high.

You could see that he was also close when his lips parted with low moans. You watched his shoulder flex with every pump of his fist, he looked so majestic.

“Need.. to.. feel you” finally being able to form a sentence, you were beginning to get loud.

With each motion, your breath got heavier and curse words started to roll off your tongue. “m’close” is all you can get out before a moan from the back of your throat took over your entire room and Mark’s. Finally hitting your peak, your thighs started to shake uncontrollably and more moans followed after.

“You’re so loud baby, you sound so nasty.. wanna fill you up and make you scream my name” Mark did his best to match your rhythm until he bucked his hips up into his fist and finished with a groan.

His release, all over his stomach and hands. He was left in a daze, watching you still riding out your orgasm. And then falling onto you stomach, you were both left both panting.

“Wow” is all Mark could muster up, trying to catch his breath.

“That was…” His lips curled into a smile and you mirrored his expression.

“That was something” You both giggled in the comfort of your beds, feeling safe and tucked away from the outside world. A little bubble of just you and Mark.

“Babe, you should really get some sleep, baby, you’re going to be tired.” You whine, realising the time as worry creeped into your mind.

Mark’s left hand flew to his chest, fake offended. “Wow, she only wanted me for my body. I’m texting the homies right now, letting them know I have been tricked.” He said dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, get some sleep so we can do this again tomorrow, you piece of meat.” You wink, making you both laugh.

“Alright babe, meet me by the fountain in my dreams? We’ll take it from there?” His eyes now sincere.

“Of course, as always.” You shoot him a warm smile, feeling butterflies in your stomach from your sweet exchanges. “Good night y/n. Sleep well.” Mark brings his phone to his face and kisses the camera.

You giggle once again at his cute antics, “Good night goofy. I hope you sleep well too.”

#mark lee #mark lee x fem reader #nct dream #mark lee fanfic #mark lee smut #nct 127 #nct #feeling a bit feral ngl #also Ihave proof read this as always but I know my dyslexic ass defo missed some typos so I apologise #as long as you know what I meant then its all good #enjoy

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guqin-and-flute · 5 months

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Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Ao3 Link]

[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]

Who are you?

‘Wen Baiqi.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’

It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.

Who are you?

‘Hei Xuecen.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’

This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.

Who are you?

Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself.

‘Ye Qian.’

He never does.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Never apologized--’

What would he do if he did?

Who are you?

What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?

What must be done?

Would he soothe his spirit?

Who are you?

Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly.

Who are you?

‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’

When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.

There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.

Who are you?

The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.

"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.

(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)

A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.

“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”

Silence.

“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”

Too little, far too late.

There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.

A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--

He pushes the dream-memory away.

Who are you?

‘Jin Mingni.

My father--’

"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”

‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’

“Help me bring them down.”

There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.

He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.

A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.

Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?

They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.

Who are you?

His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.

What must be done for you to rest?

Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale.

They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.

What must be done--?

The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.

‘Tell her I loved--’

The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.

The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.

Who are you?

‘Lan Ruicai.

Show them all--’

The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night.

He is efficient. He is in control.

The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.

Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.

There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.

‘I was so scared, so scared--’

Who are you?

Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way.

The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.

Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?

Who are you?

‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’

"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"

"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."

Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.

Who are you?

Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.

Who are you?

Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.

‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’

Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….

Who are you?

(What right do you have?)

What must be done?

He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain.

‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'

Who are you?

‘Pan Liu.’

His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.

He knows that name. How does he know that name.

There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.

He can’t place it.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘My baby. Safe.’

The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.

Who is your son?

‘Lan Fu.’

His mouth is dry.

("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….)

It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.

(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)

A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.

‘Zongzhu.’

He will be safe. I swear.

‘...Safe.’

Rest, now.

‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.

Then, silence. That pale light is gone.

She is gone.

He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears.

He aches in a new, terrible way, now.

Oh, little one. You were so loved.

He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace.

To bring anyone lasting peace.

(Useless.)

And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death?

It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.

He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….

Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved?

Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before.

The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable.

During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them. He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.

The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning.

He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.

How? he had asked. When? Why?

Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--

(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died.

He suspected enough, however.

He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)

He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant.

Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.

But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold.

This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again.

The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked.

It opened onto emptiness and moonlight.

Everything was gone. Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.

He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.

Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.

She was really gone. Forever.

The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.

She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.

If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.

Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.

But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.

He would care.

The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.)

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before.

It was so dark.

He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“

Silence.

“...Diedie?”

(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.

Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)

There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”

A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.

Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle. When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.

And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew?

A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time.

So a son will never have to wonder.

This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.

The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.

It's almost too much.

(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)

Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest.

(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)

Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.

Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.

In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them?

He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.

Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them.

A-Fu has none of this.

And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.

The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.

“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.

They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.

Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”

When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery. “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.”

He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.

He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”

In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees.

His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….

It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.

Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off.

Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.

(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)

He would have been told.

Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.”

‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’

(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)

Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose

It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all.

It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.

He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him.

And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough.

But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”

A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month.

Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.

“I will speak with him, shufu.”

Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”

Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows

When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”

There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend?

…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case.

Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity.

It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be.

He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.

He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling.

All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.

Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.

As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler.

Something touches him.

“Xichen!”

His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.

The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close).

The Western Wards, crossed.

“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”

It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood.

Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused.

Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”

His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.

Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.

“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”

Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.

As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.

Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.

When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”

His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”

“Why was I not told?!”

It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.

But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics.

Why.

“It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”

“Who. Which child.”

He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.

Xichen no longer needs an answer.

Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.

He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.

(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)

Please please please please please

How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--

He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.

If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm.

There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--

The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.

(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)

Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”

The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.

There is a small child crying somewhere nearby.

Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.

He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There!

A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home.

He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.

He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.

Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…

Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.

He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young.

He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.

“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing.

He realizes that he cannot let him go again.

#'Xichen has emotions and wishes he didn't' is the name of THIS chapter!#3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #my fic #my stuff #untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT AND THE INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF ANGST HE HAD TO WORK THRU SOME STUFF #I'll try to post happier fluffier things next #Maybe some 3zun fluff in Snowed In. Or the next chapter of And A-Fu Makes 4 which has fluff #Or the next chapter of In Your Hands because I PROMISE we're working things out #ANYWAY LOVE YOU G'NIGHT

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