#was that a threat........? shes surely not in hospital now right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astralnymphh · 4 months ago

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𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬)

summary: your suspicious encounter has given ellie her five minutes and her knife—but can she truly measure insincerity? reader discretion advised: seattle!ellie x fem!reader, angst (with comedic and romantic undertones), reader is a stranger, reader has a sibling, inevitably changes the trajectory of the canon storyline, inherent tensions, interrogation tactics; knife (obviously), drawing blood, smacking, punching, collectively getting beaten to a pulp. ellie has ran into someone who matches her energy, maybe even dominates it. whew. lots to interpret. memo: this came to me in a daydream!!! yay for getting beat up!!! footnotes: word count (4.3k), masterlist, palestine masterpost, read this, proofread by the lovely @caraphernellie!

It is an aching, scathing thing: this world.

In the mornings, the most godless sounds awaken. Salvation takes pitiless dances with self-righteous societies, and the meek have inherited the earth.

If you have a bounty—an idea of revenge—you must be fain to bleed every happy accident dry of information, and bleed yourself.

“Where's Abby?”

You are a happy accident. Urging for an alibi, your appetite stared down the barrel of several guns. The soldiers of this hospital you sought out on eroding patience were not helpful. If anything, lethal. They seemed guilty of selling out; failing to fulfill their scrap of the bargain, dodging explanations and lily-whiting themselves with some careless, out-of-the-blue, bullshit argument for why the agreement changed, why they acted against the inertia. All these sour months, yet nothing to compensate for time. Just conflict.

You were owed fifteen guns from this deal. Fifteen!

The debate fired in a deep corridor, right above the bowels of the hospital. Some bitch—Nora, you think, plated the verdict first and coldly before making off someplace else. Almost like you weren't really there. Still bleeding for clarity, you had everyone else in the hospital browbeaten, interrogating one after another, interrupting their plans to clear out the place. You used the threats in your mouth and the appetence of your revolver to show them you meant blood and business, simultaneously. Some heads went rolling.

Then, the place got infiltrated, making you an emergent exfiltrator. Like fire in a timber house of innocents, death caught quickly. Gunshots cracked at a singularity. A couple fired, then there would be a pause, muffled commotion, a horrifying scream, and a shallow rain of bullets come again.

It became instantly understood that it was a single person; a party would bring more noise. Frightened seconds became bodies on the floor in minutes, the melody of throats choking on blood padding the halls, and like time in a nutshell, one note of that melody played right outside the room you lurked in.

You recall a muttered echo: “Fucker,” which taunted the loud gurgles of blood, and rang as a sign that it was too late.

Her narrow and thorough eyes had the emptiest and deepest rooms flipped upside without warrant. Not even the silent take-outs, blind-covered windows or the secrecy of your location evaded interest. She craved some of that action.

You interrogated one room of stubborn people, only to be interrogated by a trespassing 'nother. Fucking coincidence, right?

God, and this girl is just terrible at cross-examination! Don't let her in a courthouse, of any quarantine zone. If they exist.

Ever.

It has gone on for a minute now. She continuously asks these redundant questions and tries cheap intimidation tactics her daddy probably demonstrated on several unlucky incidents like yourself—or maybe it's improv. Sure fuckin' sounds like it. And, not to mention, an extravagant amount of profanity that even the devil himself would blush at.

Fingers snap in your face. “Hey,” she barks. The table beside you is one of her foresaid tactics. It gets slammed. “Where is she?” Her wrathful gesture makes you glance only by a virtue of instinct. Clearly, this hand gets all the action.

Simmering reds from all that yelling have curled up her cheeks, painting her in a flit of desperate, pathetic rage. She is a strange clash of auburns and browns. In eerie-black rivers, bleeding up the walls, she is a darling brunette. But in the closeness of light, it washes into a gutsy auburn. Blinding and fiery. Those eyes have you engrossed too, damn: a penetrating, cat's-eye green you could fuck up in the sightline of. Her mother give her those?

Whatever. Why she needed to find this girl, you have no clue. Where this girl in question is—you still have no clue! This is useless. In fact, to her pursuit, you are useless. Files would better serve her mission, which thousands upon thousands sit in this hospital waiting to enlighten the blood-hungry half of the population with information. Surely she knows how to fucking read, right?

Yet, your sun of escape had set indefinitely, predestining you to writhe and mope in this tangle of uncomfortable ropes for however long until she was satisfied—or suffocating you. Fight, fight, and fight all you want; there is no abdication in negotiation.

“Did you ever think to ask the guards before slicing their throats?” You cock your head, sassy, contemptuously, without a care. It's an easy antidote for you to suggest given your mental innocence to the horrors outside that door. The prelude to this tangle of ropes is an interpretation of screams and guzzles—your favorite! “Too late now, though. Oops.”

Annoyance rolls from the pit of her teeth “Oh, my fucking..” She sounds irritable, eager to snap, and she turns her back to you for the sake of her sanity.

There is a faint sound of her fingers, squeezing on the mechanics of her lovely handgun. Maybe, just maybe, she'll knuckle under now; abdicate in the sweetness of another murder? Shut your trap by boring a bullet through it?

“Do you ever quit it with the snark?” She swings back around, hunching arms-crossed.

Nevermind.

You chart your own thoughts for a possible half-genuine, mostly clever answer, eyes rolling up. “Hmm..” Checking if it lives on the ceiling, like a perfect spring apple, ripe and pendant for picking. “Not recently, no.”

That strikes a nerve. “Oh, great,” she bluffs, that empty ink of doubt rich in the short, artificial reply. Certain smilings you often earn from fed-up someones. “Guess I'll have to try harder to get it outta' you, huh?” Her face fades, broadcasting something a little more serious, though those hooded eyes are the least daunting thing.

“Oh, so hard—”

Bam! Nailed right in the cheek. No sign, no second-rounds needed. The faithfulness of four knuckles pulled through your jaw, your teeth. It aches, and your sense of vantage is knocked for a moment, flopping your head back from where she clocked it.

You swish your cheek against the throbbing, staring with provocation. She stares, too. Through the old, grimy light above, you see her conscience emptying out: upper lip snared up, brows pulling to meet a center, heavy breathing. You believe judgment exits through every exhale.

“I saw you in here, rummaging through files and shit. You know something.” Her chin becks to you, foregrounding you as the first pawn of evidence. “Where'd she go?”

“Up my ass, bitch.”

Her mouth flinches at your immature fulmination. Offended, or disgusted. Rigid cords accentuate in her neck. “You smart-mouthed cunt!” she seethes, and her angrily mumbling that leads too smoothly into another blow to the maw, getting all up in your twisted face. “Where?”

You sling back. “Clearly not right in front of you, damn it!” Spitting the blood stilling in the pockets of your gums, you damn her; aim for the tip of her converse. Panting, you bring your eyes up slowly to glare. “Who shit in your rations?”

“We don’t—hmph, I don’t do rations.”

Throwing a joke put a cork in her incursion, slipping up her words. You have to laugh. Furrows pinch between her brows, then she scans you up and down, face contorting into slow inspiration. They widen, discern; something you said alludes.

What is she thinking?

”Are you FEDRA? Undercover soldier?”

Your smile fades. “What? No.”

She motions to the bodies entrailing the floor. “Then why'd you kill them?”

“Got in my way.”

Her lips press into a line, and she huffs. Appraisal demanded conjectures, and you weren’t giving her anything. Things that may nail the target right in the eye, or miss by a small mark. You came here for one thing and one thing only, and that's none of her business—but, she wants to make it her business. Clothing you in warfare made it psychologically easier to absolve herself.

Two can play at that game. “Are you an undercover soldier?” you spin the question, blood in your mouth stirring a grudge. This situation might fall more into place if tongues point to yes. “Which zone hired you for reparation? Or would that be the Seraph—”

“Not a soldier.” Her interruption is resolute. She holds something harsh in-between the teeth, a stiff rehash, unable glarings. “I'm not FEDRA, I'm not a Scar..” The floor seems to interest her eyes. “Actually, what I am is none of your goddamn business.” She only looks up at you at the end, eyes narrowed.

“Neither am I yours.”

For smart-mouthing, you expect a third kiss of violence to erupt your gums—nostrils, perhaps—and she relents. Silence perverts the room, leaving an uncomfortableness to stretch from her stare. Gulps, blinks, and breaths that invocate. She expects you to give her a thesis, glaring like a hawk. A glare that depicts, “You are my damn business.” without ever having to gorge a throat.

You watch her right fist fumble together, blanking out on the earth-stained nooks. “Just assumed someone so blood-hungry would be an undercover soldier that has it out for rebel militia groups trying to battle authority. Maybe you wanted to snuff out the Firefly legacy? Once and for all?”

The coarse skin of her tattoo looks storied. Covered in things you lack context for.

But are you not self-same?

“Ex-Fireflies are finicky fucking people,” you begin to rasp in the vowels, clearing your throat. “Fuckin' hate them.”

Nothing is said on her end. Nothing of solace, nothing of condemnation, not even a different opinion. She traces all the lines quietly; squints at your lowered face, weighs your scars, conjecturing what your reputation must be to wear wounds like these. They must be gorgeous enough to ignore, because she prowls closer and slips into her back pocket, pulling a switchblade. Mahogany, and storied indeed. Fresh blood, old blood.

You peek up when you hear it flick. “Last chance,” the rigid-lipped girl warns. And like she has experienced an earnest, diabolic and pardoned shift in mind, her eyes look prepared to see you choke. “What's it gonna take?” She would slice you if it meant bleeding the infinite resolve out of you.

Fingertips dance on the handle of it. Pitifully, agitatedly dancing under the shadows. “Reasons, maybe?”

“Yeah? Wanna be like that?” She braces an arm on the chair, caging you, leaning in. Warm, arrowlike words hit you. They smell of breath. “Someone was hunted, tortured and killed, right in his own fucking town. Planned attack, too.” The cold, keen edge of the blade is pressed against your pulse, provoking a swallow through you. Tight in freckled hands, bloodspill is ensured. “That enough for you?”

“Oh,” you chuckle unamusedly. “Revenge doesn't solve shit.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” The growing pressure of her hand leaves a thin, immaculate cut, no drippage. Your subtle stonewalling escalates the tension in her, and so, she slowly buckles under; teasing the knife with a little taste.

Muted pain hisses from you. “Not revenge,” you plume, showing her your eyes. “Wolves got somebody I know held hostage and is unfairly expending them for their work. They won't let 'em off as agreed.”

Eyes reveal lies.

“Bullshit.”

You disengage from the delicate stinging on your neck, confounded by her. “Okay, and what makes your excuse more plausible?” Either you wear an embittered smile, or it wears you. Her cynicism is almost predictable. “I was owed shit from these assholes.”

“Which assholes?”

Of course, every detail is of the essence. You get her, to a degree; she is enraged justice in the form of a girl, but is overwhelmingly that. Rage. She spreads her pawns inside out and envisages a judging of gospel in their exposed guts. Interpreting the files, the conditions, the realisms of things said. Was that soldier truly vulnerable? Did they die weaponless, fearful, and innocent? Is innocence even a condition, given the crimson in her eyelines?

She looks lost in all the blood.

The temporary break opens to your heavy sigh. “Think her name was Nora.” Lasting throbs from the punches minutes before worsen as you speak. You crinkle your face against them. “'Dunno, don't care. Just want my brother back.”

You cannot tell if your answer brings satisfying insight, hearing only her inhales go in, and out. Knife laying inert, you receive no pain for it, but no freedom from it, either. She opens her mouth a bit, and bloomed breaths fan over you, like a response is meant to come out. Then her bloodied, bottom lip folds in, rubbing against her top, brows set low, and you know the contents of her mind are crafting a narrative.

Measuring your high-stake sincerity.

“Is that enough for you?”

Her eyes are sharp when you ask.

The weight of inflection, the material of fluency. Both are determiners. You, for the past five minutes, have acted a soft and blunt manner in the face of one jury. Maybe facetious, too, but it changes little.

She picks herself up from her wander-faced brainwork, and concentrates outside of her mind. “'Kay,” she drones, cocking her head. “Where is Nora, then?”

You sigh. “Probably upstairs.” The fight for life continues. Behind the chair, your wrists contort quietly for a weak knot. “Or gone. Depends how long you take to untie me.”

One corner of her lip crooks. “Huh, you really think it's that easy?” Her face compliments the eerie line perfectly. She slides the blade past your collarbone, without pressure, and pierces it into your sleeved arm. Slow torture of twisting. “Tell me where, exactly.”

Gouging torments worse than simple incisions. With cuts, you can leave ugly reminders. But with a debased conscience and an end goal, she hopes to wind the information out clean; create a perpetual torture that loosens your tongue. She does not flinch, does not glance with hesitation while the tip draws a sweet, ugly, crimson vortex above your inner-elbow. Those steady eyes bore other holes into yours. Lingering, reading your pain.

Your windpipes fill with a groan, and you clutch at the bundle of knots behind you. “Fuck!” The pain does torture you. She is exacting in the way that it does. Torturing your skin, your thoughts. It forces a puncture of annoyance in your gut for not having much else to say while she bleeds you for it. You try to fathom her situation at large.

“Fuckin' lucky I haven't slit your throat yet.”

Then, it clicks.

“Come on, where?” Her impatience hits home.

You know where the blind spots are in this situation. Context shines clearly. “It's not just some random guy you're getting revenge for, huh?” Struggling under knifepoint, your words slip out with the violence of a tear. Scratchy, compressed.

But the gouging technique of her fingers stop, saving you a second.

“What?”

Her face and voice incarnate offense identically. There had to be some nasty reason backing your statement, another round of your clever inaction to distract a sure demise. Yet, it still chokes. She wants to finish this, but you are by far the most thought-provoking victim her switchblade has ever laid infliction to. You can make a girl hesitate pretty damn well; it frustrates her. Makes her culpable, a gilded conscience whispering in low tones to let it back in. Reverting her to one of the many things that Seattle made her find fucking sickening: empathy.

Thinking.

She slaps a band-aid on those exposed nerves, keeping her heart small, and begrudgingly narrows her eyes into confrontational lines. The knife softly listens.

You continue. “Obviously, this someone is special,” attesting brashly, not so formally as a court would mandate. Just loud enough to film over the sound of your binds loosening. “Who goes all this way for somebody they don't share blood with?”

Regardless of how bold, how unoriginal this shot in the dark is, the revenge-high girl drops her lip. She's trying to pin a conceivable falsehood to your words, but it conflicts with the perfection of them; you aren't entirely wrong.

An irritated sigh claws open the air.

Forget it—she isn't looking to be mutual. She didn't chase a rumor to carve sympathy. Histories shall keep to themselves. “So? Don't play fucking stupid with me,” she reproaches you, introducing the pressure of her knife down on your thigh. “If she's gone, you're gonna show me right where she's headed.”

You watch her empty hand reach back. “Then?”

The sounds of paper halt. She frowns at your strange cross-questioning. “Then—I'll let you go.” Her reply is reluctant, so full of an unsure breath. “But only on the condition that you aren't fucking bullshitting me.”

The hand once-empty arcs from her back pocket, unfolding an outdated map of Seattle before your eyes. Damn, does she need an exact time too?

“Where?”

Hence that, the knife eases silence with pain again. There are tense cords on the crest of her palm from pushing it in. You almost absently and sullenly admire the true beauty of the flesh wallowing in contemplation; chances are, you may know too much now, and could cause wounds in her plan if let go. Providing her the intel she thrives for won't save you—it will kill you.

So, while so much as a long wince takes up your throat, you think of something else.

“Come on,” she nags, twining the knife into your kneecap. You counter with a cry, the vulnerable, warm shine threatening to paint your undereyes. “Could be done with this already. Eyes up here.” It crept up so quick.

But before you succumb, the roughness around your wrists becomes a nothingness, and your fingers grasp for light. Reprieve, a pardon to injury; you take it into your own hands.

The scene shifts like rain. Shock jerks her eyes wide when the chair clatters, and you drive her backwards—heels scattering, hands thrashing in a flit of desperation—and her special switchblade is suddenly against her. You swipe it tracelessly, catching her off-guard and cursing. Threatened palms puncture you repeatedly in the shoulders, trying to shove you off as she is slammed into the wall, knocking out the incentive she held so dearly like a candle.

Her hand dives below where you can see, definitely headed for the leather gun holster that clasps her thigh. She struggles to unload it. Before she can even wrap a finger, your reflexes are a step ahead, ridding her of that precious, immediate solution. You bash the damn thing into her nose.

“Fucking cunt!” she shouts with her lip snared down, the raging shape of her teeth evinced. Her hips struggle against you, palms now reaching to eclipse your sockets, both in a desperate fight to recapture her authority. Careful, she might bite!

Everything transpired so quickly. You feel whiplash as you toss the gun, brace her arms and show her precisely what lies ahead—scratching the surface, knife on her pale pulse.

Struggle exists no longer; the weapon buys you surrender. She focuses her lingering energy on catching air, slack under your fingers.

“Well, shit!” Your chest opens with a degrading laugh, one she abhors. Screw looking at you. “Guess it really was that fucking easy, huh?” You begin a soft dint in her neck with the pricked end, inciting her to swallow a lump.

It does not fall quietly. She cracks open her lips and blood from her nose weeps in. “Please, stop,” she pleads, loud and clear. Instead, she is entrusted meekness as a desperate measure. That flesh you loom could be wool, a startled wool, and she would be a lamb. An innocent condition. Either fits her, since either way, she is tense and looking at the inanimate space behind you. Guiltily, flinchingly.

Only one curiosity will complete you. “Name?”

“Ellie.” It rushes like another life is at stake. Since when is she soft with a heart that can break? Whatever it is, it got her in this pretty predicament. “Why?” she raises, tone wary.

“Harder to kill somebody with a name.” Cute name for a murderer.

Her teary eyes narrow with confliction.

Ellie all but understands you. Your enigmatic nature has brought her to enmity and pity thus far—and on the precipice of murder—but now you're offering complete mercy? That's a hard thing to want to accept. People these days almost prefer, by an all-embracing scale, the venom, the simplicity, and the diabolical origins of the ethos of this apocalypse. Sometimes, it comes easier up and down the throat. Belonging eroded, and this country is a skeletal memory of itself, nothing will endure. Ellie understands that; she was born into it, and so, it is her and that is eternal.

So why you choose to spare her, has her scrunching her nose and pinching those signature frown-brows. Though, in the lurid light of her being that somebody with a name, she appears more strangely relieved, even if death sits at her throat still. Getting her to end this was your why and wherefore. You don’t care, you don’t have the time. So, you let the sun set.

Her eyes quirk up, and meet an equilibrium between her and you. They look dimensional with intrigue, somewhat proportionate to almonds. Gentle, springtime in the middle. “You're not gonna kill me?” Eyes you won't harm.

“No,” you announce it like it is solace, hard-fought. Tucked eyes and no strings attached, you sure are serious about this. “You aren't an issue to my efforts or some soldier telling me to come back tomorrow or to fuck off, so.. yeah.” The switchblade flicks back into the shell. You hold it out to her, and that itself sells the deal. “Congratulations.” A simple resign.

She lets it slip into her palm. Hugs the weight, rolls the wood on the curls of her knuckles. “Hm,” she hums timidly. Feeling it now, eliminating you would have changed nothing. If anything, weighed on her conscience in the dells of nightfall.

But she still lacks information. She needs to get it somewhere, somehow.

Thoughts begin to trickle: if her fingers can do such fragile things as plucking a guitar, should they be considerate?

Should she start now?

After a silent break, and a wipe of her bloodied lip, she decides to try. “Is your brother with them?” Wearing some sympathetic face absent of a smile; you're too preoccupied to notice if she does. “Sounds tough what you're going through.” Yeah, she cares enough to try.

You recess from looting. “The Wolves?” Crouching low.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks, involuntarily.

God, this girl is a paradox of hypocrisy. First, she doesn't want your sympathy, and now she is a fraying thread of it. Loosened seams all over. You grin at her, rooted tall to the floor several feet away, but you are too in favor of doubt to look grateful now. “Oh, so now it's not bullshit?”

“That was before,” she laughs tentatively, traipsing closer. You leave her fidgeting, the natural gravity of her hand not knowing what to do, where to fall to. Debris crunches under her converse as she stands stock still before you, her stillness an invitation.

Again, she says nothing. Nothing as you aimlessly stare and travel over her little chafings. Waiting on your reply, your movement, your hitches of breath. Hidden languages of the body. There, you would make this mutual, or tell her to fuck off.

Maybe she believes you can benefit her still. Benefit each other.

Yeah, right.

Nothing promising sprouts from what is uncomfortably introduced.

It makes you scoff. “If you’re proposing some sort of win-win deal, then..” You heave briefly from your chest lugging up your backpack as you stand. “I've had my fair share. No thanks.” Telling her to fuck off, cordial as possible.

“Yeah,” she rethinks. “Dumb idea.”

Seeing her face shift is quite the telling. An easy withdraw. Whatever she wanted to do, it wouldn’t work in the long run.

The steel door is guttural when you push on it. Groaning in the hinges, it instills a tension over your shoulder; she is still back there, reloading her guns, probably watching you. It gets you thinking, your hand hesitating. You may have no clue where to go yourself, but it would snip your thorny curiosities if you knew her destination. You know a small something.

“Check the operations base.”

Her shotgun clocks open. “Operations base?”

“Near the stadium. Think Nora is heading there,” you disclose, to entice, glancing over your shoulder. She needed that. “Be careful though, you’re public enemy number one now.”

She collapses her gaze. “Yup.” Her hatred was safely disposed of, so she takes your concern gently.

After all, you remain strangers.

“Hope you get where you’re going.” The shotgun locks back in place.

Now is when you say nothing. You leave, without a spontaneous prayer or hope for her future.

Better to forget this ever happened.

“She wasn’t in any of the polaroids.”

Day closes inside the theater. Abdication takes place in the far-back dressing room, where wounds are dressed, and afterthoughts are festering. Ellie thinks restlessly about it.

What were the chances?

Ellie takes the needle into her riven skin without a flinch. The back of her lungs fill into, with long breaths, the tender palm of Dina, who asks, “Did she have information, at least?” as the suture threads through.

“She could've killed me.” Her fingers creep up her neck, feeling at her collarbones. The thought makes her mind turn. “But..”

Dina finishes with a knot on the carnic reminder. “But you're okay,” she conveys her gratitude. To higher powers, to luck, to you—whoever. She collects the hand from her collarbone, shielding her own over and embracing it against Ellie's abdomen. “Scratched up, obviously, but here. Safe.”

The gesture is fragile. Ellie clutches softly at her own stomach, grooving trails of her fingers. She wants to say something, but her mind everlastingly obsesses over your intel. “She said Nora's stationed in their operations base.” Her arm kindly slips from Dina and ravels into her shirt, tossing it over her head. All this bloodshed has given her a one-track mind. “Somewhere west of here, near a stadium, uh—think that's site two on our map.” She stands and smooths the crinkles. “Thanks for the help, babe.”

Dina can only hope well. “Mhm.” But she loathes this metamorphosis. Day after day, it leaves her feeling secondary. “Just be careful tomorrow, okay?” She has to continue physical contact to keep herself above, rising after Ellie. “We're rootin' for you.” Pressing a smile into her warm neck.

It repurposes itself onto her lips. “Yeah, like my groupie?” Certain smiles Ellie tends to forget she can share, and kiss, even if fleetingly. Thought fades all.

Hard to forget what happened.

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berryz-writes · 7 months ago

Text

I'll try harder

11) Ends up in the infirmary a lot, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's a "troubled yet entertaining student"

Theo x reader

"Where is my boyfriend?" I asked Draco, my annoyance increasing with his obvious distractions so he didn't have to answer my question.

He gave me a once over, his cool gaze unaffected by my anger "Your boyfriend is currently busy. I'm sure you'll see him tomorrow...or in a few days depending on the situation"

I was going to pull my hair out if I didn't get a direct answer soon "Draco Malfoy if you don't tell me right now I will drag Pansy here and tell her you like her"

His blank expression didn't change except the flicker of annoyance in his grey eyes "And where did you receive that false information from?"

I smiled at him "Just because it's false doesn't mean people aren't going to believe it. Did you know all it takes is one little whisper for a rumour to be spread across the whole of Hogwarts?"

Draco smirked, crossing his arms "Blackmailing me, y/l/n? Looks like Nott does benefit you in some way."

"Tell me"

"He's in the hospital wing and before you run away to mother him, if I hear a single word about me liking that awful witch-"

"Your threats don't matter to me right now, Malfoy. But thanks anyway" I rushed off to where he had said Theo was, trying to rid my thoughts of everything that I imagined had happened to him. He was fine walking off the quidditch pitch and there were no serious injuries while he played so why was he there?

I knocked on the door, making sure it was loud enough for someone to hear. If the door didn't open I would barge in myself. Before I could do just that Madam Pomfrey opened the door giving me a sympathetic smile "Here to see Theodore?"

I nodded my head trying to see behind her to no avail. All I could see were a few drawn curtains and another few beds unoccupied.

"Go on in then, he's the third one." I rushed past her muttering a quick thank you. She was probably fed up of having me to see me at her door every other day.

I approached the third bed and pushed the curtains to the side. I didn't know what I expected but it wasn't Theo sat up reading a book with his head wrapped in white gauze. Otherwise he looked completely fine.

"Hey" I left a small kiss on his cheek and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to answer the questions I was too afraid to ask.

He let out a sigh and placed his book near his pillow, shifting further to the left so I had more space on the bed.

"Who told you I was here?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance and confusion "That's not important. What's important is what are you doing here? Don't tell me you got into another fight"

He gave me a slight smile, his expression showing discomfort.

"Theo. Why? Why are you always fighting?"

"For the record I won the fight, sweetheart."

I scoffed "Well clearly not if you've got that on your head and your opponent isn't even in the hospital wing right now"

He grinned as if he found something funny "He's having a meeting with Snape that's why."

He wasn't getting the point. He just didn't seem to care that what he was doing was wrong and it affected others as well.

"What happened? I want the truth"

His smile dropped, becoming suddenly serious to when I asked for the truth.

"Well, the guy who asked you out the other day and you rejected him. He was talking shit about you so I decided to fuck him up a bit. You know, so he'd know that he didn't have the right to talk about you like that...no one does"

I sighed. The fact that he was fighting because of something said about me was nice of him but I didn't want him hurt because of that.

"Theo he said something about me. Not you. I don't want you hurt every time someone says a single thing against me"

He sat up suddenly, anger evident on his face "And why the fuck not? If he's going to talk about my girlfriend like that do you think I'm just gonna stand there and not do shit all?"

"But Theo your hurt because of it! I don't want that for you"

He slumped back down and didn't bother looking at me "I don't fucking care about being hurt. If I hear a single word against you-"

"Just ignore it!" I was getting annoyed now. Why was he so desperate to be hurt because of something I didn't even care that much about?

"Ignore it? Your fucking crazy if you think I'll ignore something like that"

I stood up ready to do something. Ready to shout at him, to push him off the bed, to do anything but sit there and tell him time and time again that I didn't want him hurt because of something so irrelevant. Tears welled up in my eyes, I tried blinking them away but instead a few fell down making their way down my cheeks.

"Well your good at ignoring one thing! Our fucking date that your missing because of your detention. Is that what you wanted?" I wiped the remaining tears from my face, anger coursing through my veins. Theo finally deigned to look at me after having raised my voice, something I rarely did.

His eyes widened in shock "I didn't realise. Fuck. I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't even realise and- I didn't mean for you to cry. I'm so fucking sorry"

"It's a little late for that isn't it. What does it matter when you've missed the second date this month because of some stupid fighting you can't control"

He leant toward me, reaching for my hand the warmth of his hand seeping into me. "I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? I swear I won't fight again...unless the person deserves it"

I sat back down, the anger vanishing from me, Theo's comforting hand grounding me.

"Lay down with me. Please." He asked quietly, eyes full of sorrow.

I turned so I could lay down next to him his arm coming around my waist to pull me closer to him. He dropped a kiss to the top of my head "I really am sorry Y/n. I don't want you to be upset over something I've done"

I shook my head "I'm not upset. I just don't want my boyfriend to be in the hospital wing for half the year"

"I'll try harder" He whispered.

"Just try harder on the fighting aspect. Otherwise your perfect"

I smiled at him and the one he gave back made my heart melt. I loved him.

#theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo x reader #theo x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #slytherin boys

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cryb4byem · 1 month ago

Text

Purgatorium Part II

Kyojuro Rengoku x ArrangedMarriage! Reader

cw: 14.1k words, canon typical violence/injury, alcoholism, mild parental abuse/neglect

part one here

Every cell. Every fiber felt like it was trying to break free from your body. You had no idea what you were about to learn, and your implosion felt inevitable if you didn’t find out.

The head of the Butterfly Mansion, the Insect Hashira, greeted you at the door. “Thank you for coming so swiftly, and by yourself. I am aware of your father-in-law's condition as well as how young your brother-in-law is.” She slid on a pair of white linen gloves before continuing.

“I’m sure you would like to know why my crow alerted you so suddenly.” If you weren’t wracked with panic, you would’ve admired her graceful, natural beauty. It seemed her almost enigmatic equanimity was the only thing keeping those around her, including you from spiraling.

Her measured countenance and calm voice couldn’t have contrasted more with the state of the room around her. Three kakushi were slumped over each other, their faces to the wall quietly crying. Meanwhile other small girls with similar butterfly hair clips went in and out of the room beyond her with a controlled franticness.

“Please listen to me carefully.” Her amethyst eyes pierced yours with a seriousness that was frankly, unsettling. “There was a confrontation between the Flame Pillar and the 3rd most powerful demon of Kibutsuji’s ranks about an hour ago.” Your breath catches in your throat, at the words. The 3rd most powerful demon?

“He sustained severe transfixion trauma to his epigastric region. We moved quickly, and kept the demon’s limb in place as long as we could, and in that time he was able to stop most of the blood loss using a breathing technique.” Your hand shakily covers your mouth, the savagery of the attack, and the horror of such an injury were almost too much for you.

“The amount of pain he is managing while conscious is unnatural, and quite concerning. We have been trying to sedate him since he arrived, but he begged to wait until you got here.” Her sharp gaze left you finally, shifting to the floor. “Despite his state, he was quite stubborn, and resisted our attempts to give it to him anyway.”

You speak in a tensed whisper, “C-can I see him?” Each syllable was dragged from the pit of your body, you needed every bit of strength to not lose all composure.

“Yes, quickly please. I trust you understand the criticality of this situation.” Shinobu looked over her shoulder to a young girl with bright blue eyes and pigtails as she turned into the room that seemed to be at the heart of the commotion in the Butterfly Mansion.

“Aoi… please pull up the sheet on the Flame Pillar.” The girl’s brow furrowed in concentration, releases as she sees you, expression softening as she nods to Shinobu before disappearing behind the room’s entryway.

“You can go ahead now.” Shinobu tells you finally. Upon her permission you begin hurrying into the room Aoi just turned into. “I just want to remind you we are doing all we can, and he is relatively stable for now… but… just be prepared…”

You look over your shoulder back at Shinobu, words failing you before going in. The air hung heavy beyond the doorway, three little girls stood to the back wall awaiting orders while the slightly older girl, Aoi lighty ran a damp cloth over Kyojuro’s forehead. Delusionally, you imagined it was due to his warmth, the perpetual warmth emanating from his body everywhere he went, and not the onset of a stress induced fever and intense pain.

He laid, left eye wrapped in layers of bandage wrapping around his head, the thin hospital bed linens drawn to the base of his neck. Each of his labored inhale and exhale audible, a testament to his will actively clinging him to consciousness and keeping the looming threat of bleeding out at bay.

His right eye fluttered open at your presence even without saying a word, the keen instincts of a warrior sharp as ever.

“My flam-ACK.” He jumped to sit up, only for a guttural cough to send an abrupt jolt through his body, putting him onto his back. Laying immobilized once again, his breathing intensifying.

“Rengoku-sama! Your wound! Shinobu-san told you not to move!” The little voice of one of the young girls behind you calls out her voice cracking, riddled with fear.

His face contorts in discomfort, straining to utter “My apologies…” The words tumble out almost as if he doesn’t even know who he is saying it to; the little girls, you, himself, or maybe someone not even there.

You look deeply into his uninjured eye, the bright golden orb that even now was completely free of clouds. You kneel at his bedside, feeling tears beginning to burn in the corners of your own eyes, you try to keep your tone as reassuring as possible and not let on how terrified you are. “Everything is going to be ok, alright?”

His lips curl into a soft smile, his gaze softens, melting into yours like a stream of amber. You waited anxiously for a response, any response.

“Are you in pain?” His gentle expression remains unchanged as if he had just awoken from an afternoon nap, looking back at you.

“Not anymore… If you’re here, I won’t feel a thing. I am fine, please do not worry.” His eye clamps shut as another searing pain courses through his body, making his breathing stutter again with a curt strangled groan. Despite what he said, it was clear he was in agony.

“Kyojuro…” Your brow furrows with concern as your eyes rake over his battered form. You look deeply into his eye intently trying to imprint every detail into your mind, as if the light may drain from it at any moment.

You didn’t even hear Shinobu’s delicate footsteps on the wooden floors or notice her until you looked up to see her at his opposite bedside, you were taken aback by her sudden presence. You shouldn’t be surprised, she is a hashira after all.

“I’m sorry. We cannot wait any longer for the sedative. The more time goes without it…” She spoke solemnly, as though she knew what she needed to do, but almost didn’t have the heart to do it, almost.

You felt one of the three small girls try to pull you back by your arm, “Ma’am please! Shinobu-san needs to work, you need to leave this room!” The words don’t even faze you, unmoving from your spot at his bedside. Making it clear to the entire Butterfly Mansion your stubbornness was only matched by Kyojuro’s himself.

“Please don’t take him from me, not now. Please don't let someone else abandon me.”

The words echo in your mind, like a cacophony of a lifetime of anxiety thrust to the surface all at once.

“She can stay. I’ll allow it.” Shinobu spoke, not taking her focus from the vial as she filled it with a solution, flicking it firmly to disperse any air bubbles.

You feel the small girl release your arm going back to stand with the other two. You kept looking at Kyojuro, scared to look away, as if it was the last time you would ever bask in the warmth of his gaze.

“My flame, let me tell you a few things.” His voice was steady but strained, each word laced with sincerity.

“You don’t need to say anything… just save your strength.” You felt as though you were pleading with him at this point.

“You’ve done enough, just rest.”

You want to say to him, but you could see the seriousness on his face. Every man deserves to do with their last moments what they wish, and if these were just that, you would not be the one to deny him that.

“Please, I want you to tell Senjuro he ought to follow the path he knows to be true, whatever path that may be. Remind my father to take care of his body.”

You look at Shinobu, almost as if to ask if there should be more witnesses to what could be the last words of the Flame Hashira, but she continued working, not even glancing down at you as she began administering the vial.

“And I want you to know that I love you.”

The tears you held in your eyes finally began to escape, your vision was cloaked in obscurity, but what did it even matter? As if anything was truly clear right now.

“I love you too.” That was clear to you if nothing else. What were otherwise the three most beautiful words one could utter to another, felt like they were just another deep wound you both inflicted each other with. Had he even heard what you said? Knowing him, he would feel personally responsible for the notion that another person would be agonizing over his condition.

The onslaught of emotion finally manifests in a strangled sob, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your sleeve. Seeing his golden iris enveloped beneath his closed eyelid and breathing softened, it is obvious the vial Shinobu gave him had already taken effect.

Pressing the back of two fingers to his forehead, the only thing that you can use to ground yourself is that same unyielding warmth he radiated.

—————————————

You aren’t sure how many hours you’d been in the room. Time didn’t feel like it was passing. Maybe a part of you thought that if you kept looking at him long enough, you could pretend maybe he was finally getting the rest he deserved and not in a catatonic, forced respite from the wound that should have taken his life.

“You should go home. I’ll keep an eye on him personally.” Shinobu's voice was lighter than the chirp of a sparrow. “Trust me, the best recovery is sleep. Sometimes slayers sleep for months here, regaining their strength.”

You cock your head over your shoulder to look at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She raised a pointed finger, she was like a doll the way a perpetual contentment was painted to her face, it was a bit uncanny.

“Not that I’m saying this will happen here. I induced the comatose state he is in, so everything is controlled, I made the compound so that he would naturally awaken when his body is in better condition.”

This woman was truly a genius apothecarist, how did she even learn to make such a solution?

“I see…” You didn’t want to stand yet; you craved just a moment more in his presence. You try to smile at her genuinely, but you knew it must have looked just as contrived as hers did. You didn’t have Kyojuro’s gift—the ability to smile authentically and joyfully, no matter how bleak things appeared.

“Before you go, can I give you his personal effects?” Your eyes moved from the floor to meet hers, nodding with the same polite smile still plastered on.

Shinobu took a package that couldn’t have contained more than a couple items from one of the youngest girls that helped around the Butterfly Mansion, transferring it into your grasp.

Removing the thread and paper encasing the items, Shinobu stood unmoving before you, her eyes following your hands. Despite the smile she armed herself with, her gaze deepened, like this was something she understood all too well.

Seeing the familiar kaen pattern, you stroked the back of your hand across the sturdy fabric of the Flame Hashira haori. Only to freeze as you feel something solid wrapped inside of it. Without hesitation, you reached within the white accented garment to pull out a rectangular box.

Could it be? Sliding the lid from the basin of the firm container to see delicate metal and crystal intertwined to make a plum blossom hairpin, the same kind that had saved your life not long ago. Your hands tremble uncontrollably as you remove it from its resting place.

“We found it in his pocket, even with the aftermath of the battle and the panic as he was rushed in, he implored us to be gentle in handling it…”

After your first hairpin broke he must’ve planned to bring a new one for you that morning. Even with a gaping wound, he was concerning himself with being able to offer you an undamaged gift to replace the one he initially gave you when you arrived.

You clutched the package as if it was sacred, like maybe that if you didn’t, it would all slip through your grasp and cease to be like everything seemed to at the moment.

“Thank you for everything…” You finally broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. You lower yourself to bow to Shinobu, before leaving, perhaps leaving a part of yourself behind as you do.

—————————————

There was a general malaise of silence at the house in contrast to the mid morning light, seemingly blanketing the grounds as if it was just another day. Something felt wrong about returning here alone from the Butterfly Estate. You scoured for the younger Rengoku, no doubt wanting– needing an update on the state of his older brother.

You finally found him sitting alone in a room holding a sheathed sword in his lap. His head lowered as if in surrender, he was trembling as if terrified of what laid beneath the sheath.

You didn’t even know Senjuro owned a blade, it seemed ornamental at best. It looked as though it had never used a day since it was forged.

Upon seeing you, his hazed and shaky expression was replaced with a mix of worry. Before he could ask you the burning question that had no doubt been haunting him, you notice a patch of tender skin on his cheek, an abrasion that looked as though it would bruise.

“What happened to your face?” You lean lower yourself next to him to inspect, running your thumb over the skin, flushed red and running warm from the inflammation.

He turned his face to conceal the sore cheek from your view, putting his own hand over it. “One of the other swordsmen that joined brother on the mission came by the house…” His gaze faltered, shifting to looking at the ground. “He wanted to apologize… he was ashamed, for not being able to do more in that battle.”

“Father began insulting my brother, then suddenly was enraged by the slayer. Things began escalating. I tried to protect the slayer, and Father hit me…”

You couldn’t believe the words you heard. You were sickened to your core. Beyond the scope of a Hashira, the scope of a patriarch, how could a father act this way?

Words are one thing, as merciless as they were, especially to a man fighting for his life, but to strike someone so much smaller and weaker was despicable. Both were so egregious, it was impossible to even say which was worse.

Taking a moment, you calmed yourself down, grounding your thoughts before responding. “Are you ok?”

Senjuro kept his face angled down and the evidence of the violence that had occurred in your own home while you were out.

“I’m fine… this is nothing.” He dragged his sleeve across his eyes with a soft sniffle, you could see how hard he worked to hide his emotions coming to the surface, there was something more important to him. “My brother… is he…?”

“He’s… sleeping, that’s all. They’re doing everything they can… ” You feel a lump forming in your throat at the words. You didn’t want to acknowledge what you were both thinking just as much as Senjuro didn’t want to.

“I-I see.” His gaze stayed low to the ground, even as his fists balled at his sides with resolve. “Maybe… it will work now. It has to.”

Senjuro shakily removed the blade from its cover, sticking it straight in the air, looking up at it with anticipation. The sword quivered in the trembling hands of the boy. He looked up at it as if it was a beacon with the ability to connect him to a higher power. He stared up, waiting for something, anything to happen. Releasing a resigned exhale, his head dropped as the tears he had desperately held back began to flow freely.

“I really don’t have any talent at all.” He looked up at you, dejection etched into every one of his features, “I prayed this day would never come, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to carry on the Flame Hashira. This time, more than ever, my nichirin sword needed to change color. But even now, it refuses to. All because I simply don’t have what it takes.”

He set the sword down, his palms face up on his knees, silently sitting on the tatami floors. You wrap your arms around him, feeling him starting to shudder against you punctuating each sharp sob.

“Do you want to know what your brother told me to tell you before he fell asleep?” You lower your voice to a murmur.

“Wh-What did he say?” he stuttered, his lips pursed and voice trembling, but there remained a glint of hope evident as he stared at you, waiting intently to hear.

You spoke steadily, trying to fully encapsulate the sincerity of Kyojuro’s words, hoping if he could hear his brother’s voice through you, maybe it would comfort him in ways you never could. “‘Walk the path you know to be true, whatever path that may be.’”

He looked up at you, his glassy eyes widened, you could see him absorbing every syllable as if it was from a holy text leading him into enlightenment when the shoji door flew open to both of your shock.

“Senjuro! What did I tell you about the blubbering? I can hear your pathetic crying from across the house! As if Kyojuro hadn’t done enough, you had to show that Sun Breather how weak you are too! As if our family couldn’t be any more humiliated!”

Senjuro’s face drained of color, his pupils trembling at the intimidating figure in the doorway.

“You’re the eldest son of this family now, so learn something from your fool of a brother!” He gritted his teeth, now speaking to no one in particular. “Trying to supplement his own inferiority, trying to make up for our insignificant bloodline, I have no doubt he used that cursed form to try to salvage a battle he was doomed to lose from the start. He should’ve never even picked up a sword to begin with!”

Cursed form? Sun Breather? Did he mean the boy with the earrings that Senjuro spoke of? You had learned to ignore most of what Shinjuro said; these ravings were likely just another temper tantrum fueled by the stuporous overindulgence he found at the bottom of several bottles.

The discomfort hung like a chill in the air, filling the space between the fragmented inanities of the harsh words echoing through the room. Shinjuro finally lumbered away, the jug still tied around his wrist. You sat in the silence left in his wake, almost envisioning Kyojuro in that hospital bed, each breath he took and each pound within his chest a cry of hope.

You close your eyes for a moment before speaking in a hushed voice to Senjuro, “Your brother believes in you, always has. He’s fighting so he can be sure to come home and remind you of that himself.”

—————————————

“This hurts like hell!” The Sound Hashira grumbled to no one in particular. Kyojuro could only watch as his fellow Hashira limped from the doorway into the hospital bed the Butterfly Mansion staff had apathetically pointed to.

The young nurses reassuring him that the Insect Hashira would be there “when she gets the chance” to treat his injuries. The adrenaline from battle must’ve finally dissipated by the time he reached the Butterfly Mansion.

After settling in with a few labored breaths, the man finally turned to his side, noticing Kyojuro in the bed beside him.“Rengoku? How long have you been up? Why are you still here?”

“A few hours. Kocho has been keeping a close eye before she discharges me, but I should be good to go by now. Nevermind that though, what happened to you?” He had never seen the Sound Pillar as battered and bloody as he appeared before him now.

“Remember how I was organizing some infiltration into the Entertainment District? Looking for an upper rank?” Kyojuro nodded intently, he was well aware of the operation in the Sound Pillar’s sector before he even boarded the train.

“Well, we found it. The district is leveled, but we defeated the threat. And look, the two of us are matching now, and I even got one up on you.” The man gestured to his own covered eye before waving his left arm, permanently disfigured.

Even in this state, Uzui always had something to say to lighten the mood. Kyojuro always respected that trait in him, it was one of the primary reasons they got along as well as they did.

“You didn’t…” Kyojuro searched for the right word to describe the Sound Pillar's hobbled gait as he made his way from the entrance to the cot where he was now confined, as respectfully as possible. “Ambulate… yourself all the way from Yoshiwara I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” The Sound Hashira shook his head with pride. “My wives were there for me, of course. But Kocho said they couldn’t help me inside. Something about a very strict rule with spouses not being allowed to enter the Butterfly Mansion for any reason.”

Uzui spoke with restlessness, trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed clearly not befitting his frame before trying to read the face of the Flame Pillar beside him. “Did she tell you about that too?”

Kyojuro’s eyebrows knit together. “I was not aware of such a policy…” He said slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what his fellow pillar was referring to with each word. He affixed his gaze upon his comrade’s arm, bandaged shoddily in the heat of battle, severed at the wrist.

“As a dual wielder…” His lips pursed as he analyzed the sight before him. “You may have to adapt your swordsmanship.”

Kyojuro chuckled before resting his hand lightly on the covered wound punctured into his abdomen, “I was quite concerned for myself, but fortunately recovery is an option for me as well. It’s all of no matter, we will just have to train harder and get back to where we were!”

Uzui studied the face of the Flame Hashira looking for any shred of sarcasm. “A-are you serious?” His eyes widened with shock, glancing down at the tightly wrapped bandages over Kyojuro’s chest.

“Of course I am, what are you trying to say?” Kyojuro looked at the Sound Pillar inquisitively.

The Sound Hashira exhaled sharply, lowering his eyes resolutely with a soft smile, “I’m stepping down. I’m done fighting.” Upon processing the rest of what Kyojuro confidently announced to him his head jerked to face him in disbelief. “You aren’t actually considering going back are you?”

“But as pillars-” Kyojuro was cut off mid sentence, his curiosity now only building with what his friend was telling him.

“I like to think I’m Lord Uzui Tengen before I’m the Sound Pillar.” He declared matter of factly, before his tone devolved back into its characteristic quippiness. “You’ve always blurred that line, but most bastards lucky enough to take a hole in the chest and live would see themselves the same.”

Kyojuro tried to think back to the exact moment of impact, the demonic fist piercing his flesh, in the face of what could only be described as certain death had he drawn a distinction between the two?

Kyojuro’s ponderance was interrupted by the petite form of the Insect Pillar shadowed by the younger girl with blue eyes and pigtails coming in the doorway seemingly with no urgency at all. “Thank gods!” Uzui exclaimed, the exasperation ripe in his voice. “I thought you all forgot about me!”

Kocho spoke her voice sweet and light as ever complimented by the poignant, contented countenance she always had. “Oh dear! Of course not!” She gestured to the three youngest Butterfly Mansion girls to bring her a tray with some instruments and antiseptics.

Tears formed in the corner of their eyes as they approached the Sound Hashira’s bedside to hand it off to their master, clinging to each other and hurrying away once they did as they were instructed.

“Hey Kocho, do you have any painkillers or anything before you stitch me up?” Uzui spoke with a tinge of desperation, one he was clearly trying to suppress in the presence of others.

“Unfortunately, I don't recall we have anything strong enough for you here.” The Insect Pillar spoke with a curt sharpness.

The blue-eyed nurse with pigtails was much easier to read than her master. Even with the grimace she typically bore while concentrating on work, there was a particular scorn in her eyes that seemed to run deep. She stared daggers at the Sound Pillar, it was truly a distaste only unpleasant familiarity can foster.

The Insect Pillar worked, doing little to prepare her patient for her next action, hastily attending to the injuries of her fellow Hashira. Her doll-like smile unchanging as heavy handedly she doused his deep lacerations with antiseptic before stitching them shut with fresh bandages.

Upon finishing, she walked away without another word or so much as a check in to ask how the Sound Pillar was feeling now, even though she hadn’t seemed to be rushing to another bedside as she retreated without a second glance

Uzui released the grit of his teeth following his treatment, sincerity filling his tone. “About your injury, sorry I didn’t come see you. I had my crow watch closely; it told me you were stable in Kocho’s care, although maybe that should’ve been something that worried me more than it did.” He squirmed in place momentarily, no doubt feeling some residual discomfort in the absence of anything to ease his pain before being treated.

Kyojuro shook his head “No, the staff here is the picture of gentleness and care for its patients, Kocho and all her sisters treated me with the utmost kindness and consideration.”

Uzui looked out the doorway to see the three youngest Butterfly Sisters looking at him with aversion, still on the verge of tears, while the blue-eyed pigtailed nurse’s contemptuous stare only intensified in her master’s absence.

The Sound Hashira chuckled to himself blithely. “Huh. You don’t say.”

His gaze moved from the main room beyond the doorway back to Kyojuro in the hospital bed beside him. “I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the district once I stopped getting updates from my girls.” A playful smirk crossed his face again as his solemn tone brightened, “I figured mere Upper Three wouldn’t be enough to take you out. I trust you understand.”

Kyojuro looked at him knowingly with a reassuring smile, “Of course. No need to explain any further.”

“You know, the kids that were on the train with you volunteered to come to the district with me. The Kamado boy in particular gushed on and on, don’t be surprised if you start getting fan mail from him.”

A warm smile crept across Kyojuro’s features at the mention. Hearing they had all recovered quickly and been assigned another mission while he had been out, made every drop of blood shed feel all the more worth it. He really had been able to protect them as he was expected to after the train incident, even if he in the end failed to finish off the upper rank.

“Ah yes, young Kamado. Truly good natured. I’m sure he would speak fondly of anyone who fought by his side.” He folded his arms across his chest assuredly as he always seemed to when he felt idle.

The Sound Pillar moved his one good arm casually behind his head. “I don’t think just ‘anyone’ could have done what you did in the first place.”

Uzui sighed. “You’ve done good, Mister Flame Pillar. I think you deserve to just be Rengoku now.” Kyojuro tried to hide the thoughtful pensivity welling behind his eyes before spreading across his face. Kyojuro knew he had always been able to read like a book, trying as he might to hide how he felt.

“Ugh. No need to do the Tomioka face.” The Sound Hashira said less than affectionately, He feigned annoyance, but his genuine concern was evident. “It’s up to you of course, but I think you should take a cue from me and go home to your wife now. Give my best to your mini-me.”

—————————————

By the time Kocho had let him leave the Butterfly Mansion, she wrapped his bandages extra taught, surely expecting he would have removed them the minute he was out of her sight. She was not wrong, he had definitely contemplated tearing them off before he returned to his home.

But he knew he ought to leave them for now. Show the bare wound? Too disturbing. An eyepatch felt too drastic, permanent. Even though he was told to be cautiously optimistic at best on recovering his sight in that eye, bandages gave the hopeful impression to both his family and himself that regaining his vision was not out of the realm of possibility just yet.

And there was the matter of crutches. He’d declined the nurses’ offer without a second thought. He wasn’t above using them, of course—he had used crutches before when it was necessary.

But this time felt different. This time, he had come closer to death than he ever had before, closer than he had ever imagined. The weight of that knowledge was still fresh, he liked to think that was to blame for the piercing sensation beneath his ribs rather than the obvious.

Turning the corner into his ancestral home, he was not surprised to see his brother doing his daily chores per usual. Senjuro swept the entryway with a thousand yard stare. His gaze was unfocused, the bristles haphazardly brushing over the floor as if he wasn’t truly seeing it beneath him. He seemed to move mechanically as if the incessant noise in his head left him catatonic.

As much as he wished Senjuro would let others help him, he knew productivity usually brought him peace of mind. Likely now more than ever thanks to his extended stay at the Butterfly Mansion riddling them all with uncertainty.

Upon seeing him, Senjuro dropped his broom, his hazed expression replaced with overjoy. He ran over stopping himself in his tracks before jumping into his still recovering older brother’s arms.

Senjuro’s smile faltered as he took a small, hesitant step back, his gaze flickering down to Kyojuro’s chest, then back up to his face. He looked scared to get any closer, as if Kyojuro was made of glass and the slightest touch would make him shatter before his eyes. Kyojuro slowly opened his arms, donning his iconic smile brimming with warmth and familiarity. A simple reassurance.

That was all needed for Senjuro’s momentary unease to be erased. Without a second thought, Senjuro closed the distance, throwing his arms around his elder brother in a tight embrace.

He let out a slight hmph slightly faltering backward for a moment. The pressure against his abdomen was not exactly comfortable, but that did not stop him from tightening his own arms around his little brother.

“Thank gods Kanroji-san brought some sweet potato and sakura mochi earlier! I would’ve made more if we had gotten a crow you were discharged!”

Kyojuro did not have the heart to tell Senjuro he had been living off extra salted miso soups and herbal tea since awakening, and was told to continue doing so until breathing was more comfortable.

Kocho had mentioned that at least three times as he left the manor. She must’ve correctly suspected yet again his own appetite was a potential hazard to his recovery. Even castella cake was too solid and dense for him to consume in his condition.

“I will have to thank my former tsuguko for her thoughtfulness when I see her next!” He tried to remain as lighthearted as possible as he declared what no one ever believed they would live to hear him say. “As delicious as that sounds, I am not hungry at the moment!”

“Not hungry?” Senjuro repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You?” His eyes raked over his elder brother searching for the cause of such an anomaly.

Just as Senjuro inspected the state of him, Kyojuro noticed the dark circles beneath his brother’s eyes, and the complexion of his face paler than he remembered.

“I am simply so full of energy and vitality I have no need for anything to eat! Why don’t you off from your chores for the rest of the day, Senjuro!”

“A-are you sure?” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was.

Kyojuro put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, a gesture that always seemed to make Senjuro feel more at ease. “Certainly, you look as though you could use rest. I will take over for you”

Not being deterred in the slightest Senjuro replied, “No I can do it I promise!” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was before Kyojuro came.

“She’s doing the laundry for me already outside. So at least let me do the rest of the chores!” The younger Rengoku boy seemed almost frantic as he tried to prove that he was still more than capable of carrying out his perceived responsibilities.

Kyojuro was momentarily taken aback looking into the fuzzy silhouette of a reflection of himself, one that went deeper than their appearance.

He had spent the better part of his life encouraging and reassuring his brother, for this exact reason. He had foolishly believed that maybe that would be enough for Senjuro to ignore the example that had been before him since their mother had died nearly a decade ago.

There were many things he was capable of protecting him from, however there remained some things he could only try to ward off. He was more than happy to act as a human shield to all the unpleasantness of the world he had dealt with himself.

That was not to say his brother was delicate. Senjuro’s meek and sensitive exterior was not beguiling of his fiercely loyal and indomitable spirit. His patience was seemingly boundless, while being the most empathetic person Kyojuro had ever met. Senjuro’s maturity was indeed far beyond his years.

In spite of all of this, Kyojuro wanted him to have had a normal and carefree childhood. Maybe if they were another family under different circumstances, in some kind of a perfect world, Senjuro would not be confined to doing household work all day. He would have a plethora of friends to enjoy the blissful innocence of juvenility, with two loving parents at home, and no perceived expectations he was forced to inherit or self-condemnate over.

Most of all he would not feel the need to fight for the validation of others, or establish his worth in his actions. While he could not protect him from loss or neglect, surely he could do that much even now.

There was no use grieving over what could have been, the reality was Senjuro had begun to take after his own tendencies. Something he could never forgive himself for being the cause of if it went too far. His own resolve was still strong, but he could at least try to set an example of self preservation when Senjuro was watching.

He took the broom from Senjuro’s hands once again, leaning it against the wall beside them.”Why don’t we both take some time off today!” He proclaimed as confidently as possible. Senjuro’s shoulders, which had been taut with unease, dropped and with them Kyojuro breathed his own sigh of relief.

He no longer protested his elder brother’s suggestion to get some rest. Kyojuro walked his little brother to his room. As he followed, the younger boy barely lifted his head, his gaze still unfocused, lost in the exhaustion that clung to him.

Tucking him into his futon, Kyojuro adjusted the pillow beneath his brother’s head, fluffing it gently, even though he knew Senjuro wouldn’t mind either way. He moved deliberately, his smile unchanged despite his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but hope that his little brother wouldn’t notice the subtle shift in Kyojuro’s actions today—the slight urgency in his insistence.

Perhaps fatigue dulled Senjuro’s emotional intelligence enough that he failed to detect the thinly veiled half-heartedness behind him emphasizing they deserve to both call it for the day. He had been home for moments, and on bedrest before that while Senjuro had been beside himself with worry, maintaining their home. Kyojuro felt dread pool in his stomach, the thought nearly sickened him.

Once making sure his little brother was comfortable in his futon, he rose from his crouched position to his feet again, clamping his eyes shut with a sharp exhale at the shooting pain through his abdomen at the sudden movement.

Luckily, Senjuro had succumbed to exhaustion the moment his head touched the pillow, sparing him any more anxiety over his big brother’s condition.

He was embarrassed at how rapidly even the simplest tasks; walking, standing, really had exhausted him. Kocho had not necessarily given him advice on activity now that he was no longer in critical condition, she just reiterated not putting “undue strain” on the body. As vague as that was, he figured he must be experiencing some version of that as his breath became more labored as he walked through the corridors of his own home.

Almost as if moving against his will, he lowered himself into his futon. He hoped maybe he could get some sleep as soundly as Senjuro, his head barely made contact with the pillow before he drifted off even with rays of early evening daybreak still illuminating the sky.

He was happy he had managed to soothe the terrifying thoughts eating his little brother from the inside while he was recovering at the Butterfly Mansion.

Hopefully, Senjuro genuinely believed things were right in the world again, and that he had no need to prove himself to those around him any further. If he did genuinely believe that, Kyojuro envied it.

—————————————

The laundry had kept you busy from the late afternoon until the sun hung low in the sky, and you were grateful for the long days of summer, which offered a grace period of a few more hours of safety outside.

You must have looked strange in your tsumugi woven silk kimono, churning laundry by the creek. You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, before brushing your hands over your hair to ensure the hairpin was still in place. You refocused on the task at hand, gripping the sentakubō with both hands once again.

The water stirring and forming small whirlpools as you plunge the wooden paddle into the melange of soaking garments with a slosh. You raise the paddle up before submerging it again, fabric swirling in the sekken infused water.

These were the ancient methods Senjuro had told you had been used for centuries in the family.

“Drinkable well water is too precious to be used on clothes, there is flowing mountain water just beyond the gates by a small grove of wisteria trees. That’s where we have done laundry for as far back as I know of.”

The fatigue evident in his every motion momentarily ceased for him to give you particular instructions before you handle the household laundry on your own for the first time.

In Tokyo, you heard some families had found ways to pump water into their homes. No access to wells or streams necessary. You were unsure whether to be skeptical or amazed at the Western innovations being integrated at breakneck speed into the capital, but the Rengoku family seemed utterly disinterested and unimpressed by anything that brought them away from the techniques of the past.

Regardless of the flow of time, the Rengoku family had yet to betray the techniques of their ancestors that had never failed them before.

Perhaps they felt both indebted and venerated by the practices that had upheld their name through generations of Flame Pillars and centuries of war against man-eating evil. Each Hashira over the ages living long enough to pass on every aspect, no matter how trivial, of traditional lifestyle to their children and then their children’s children.

Proof of demons and time alike being unable to erode them into nothing more than history, a bloodline persisting even today, against all odds.

Your nose prickled at the herbal scent of the laundry solution you had handled for the past few hours soaking, scrubbing the items against the ridges of a washboard before draping each clean textile over a clothesline to dry in the tepid air.

It was dull, tedious, and somewhat exhausting work, but anything to take your mind and a piece of your heart from the Butterfly Mansion was a welcome distraction.

As you carried out mundane household chores as of late, you had made it more engaging by picturing Kyojuro watching you with pride, a glint of familiar affection in his eye.

It only pushed you harder to put your all into everything you did, regardless of how unremarkable it may seem to others. That was what he would no doubt do in your shoes.

—————————————

You had expected Senjuro to be milling about getting things done for the same reason when you arrived back at the estate.The broom leaned against the wall of the engawa was telling enough to you he must’ve finished his daily tasks up and retired into the house for the time being. It might have been slightly unusual, but not anything provoking much cause for concern otherwise.

You looked forward to idleness for the remainder of the evening. Slipping into fresh clothes, you made your way to your room, eager to lie down and rest.

As you walk the corridor, a blur of fiery colors ignites in your peripheral vision beyond the sliding door of a room that had sat empty as of late. Was that? You freeze in disbelief.

“Kyojuro?” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, even though you know the chances of him hearing you from this distance without even seeing your lips were low, but it doesn’t stop your heart from leaping in your chest nevertheless.

Eventually he must sense your presence, his unwrapped eye meeting yours, and in that instant, it feels like everything else fades away. He shifts from his reclined position to sit upright. Even just sitting up in his futon, you notice the subtle tension in his body, the familiar way his arms instinctively cross in front of him—, a pose you know he adopts when idle, as idle as he was capable of being anyway.

You had seen him like this before, when he was always on guard, always ready for battle. The weight of responsibility had never left him, even when he wasn’t fighting. But now, in this quiet moment, it felt almost surreal. You felt a wave of relief flood over you—he was here. He was home.

You didn’t know whether to run over to him, break down into tears, fall to your knees thanking every god and spirit that was looking out for him, or all three at the same time. He watches you with that familiar intensity in his eyes, but there's something softer now, an unspoken heaviness in his gaze

“You were resting… I’m sorry for the disruption.” You did something you hadn’t done since you arrived at the house, lowering your head into a bow. It simply felt appropriate, the least you could do was show your respect, as unnatural as it felt. Kyojuro blinked, taken aback by your gesture, his brows clenching together in confusion as he watched you.

There was a moment where his eyes seemed to search yours, as if uncertain how to respond, had a distance that great grown between you? You raised from your bow before he could tell you it was ‘not necessary for the likes of him,’ your grasp taking hold of the edge of the shoji door to drag it shut.

“I’ll let you enjoy some peace and quiet.” Your words felt inauthentic as you spoke, it wasn’t what you wanted, but it felt like what you deserved. You wished you knew what to say to him, but how could you? You could do nothing but watch helplessly while he writhed in pain waiting for you at the Butterfly Mansion.

Standing by watching the sparks fade his eyes, feeling the room grow colder and colder still. Was that really all you could do?

Every night since then, you had hoped for a miracle, that you would wake up and he would be back. Now here he was and all you could do was grapple with the futility of your every effort against the inevitable, one that would have come to pass with or without your consent. Like almost all else in his life, he overcame this on his own.

He tilted his head to the side trying to catch your downturned gaze with a soft smile, “You know” He paused until your glassy eyes met his. “I’ve had enough ‘peace and quiet’ for this lifetime.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat, there was an almost imperceptible urgency in his tone, as though the simple request held more than he could express. “I would enjoy your companionship…” His eye locked onto yours, and you could hear him telling you what he truly felt, but couldn’t bring himself to say, “Please don’t leave me alone…”

Your fists closed around your sleeves as you looked on from the doorway.

“Could I lay beside you?” You meant to ask gracefully, but a tremble caught itself at the end of your words. In spite of you both being wedded, something ignited embarrassment within you at your own request. You weren’t quite sure what his experience with such things were, but you certainly had none to speak of.

You had been confident everything would be ok, but a part of you filled with dread at every crow that flew overhead. Terrified, one of them was Shinobu-san informing you regrettably that they had failed, and he was gone. You just wanted to be close to him, close enough to hold onto and hope he wouldn’t come so close to slipping away from you again.

“Absolutely!” His boyish excitement quickly commanding sincerity, his voice lowering to just above a breathy whisper “I mean… you do not need to ask. I am yours after all.”

If anything was capable of soothing the apprehension you felt, it was hearing him deliver an enthusiastic exclamation. You studied him, your eyes drifted down again to his arms crossed on top of his chest. Whether be a barrage of responsibility or self doubt, he always carried a tension palpable in every fiber.

In a gentler world that asked for less of someone like him, maybe he wouldn’t need to. But even if he was not of that world, you could create a piece of it for him to dwell in. A place both his weary body and mind could be at ease.

You lowered yourself into the futon, trying to not focus on your heart, beginning to quicken, as the sound of his breath became audible each inhale and following exhale affirming to you he was alive, and he was yours.

“Am I making you nervous?” You asked genuinely, seeing his shoulders tighten and arms stitch together more tautly and a rouge flush across his cheeks even in the low light.

He conveniently subverted your inquiry, rebounding it back to you.“You are not nervous, are you, my flame?” His tone seemed to waver in its usual certainty.

“Not with you…” Even the intoxicating stillness, you cannot help but notice his strained comportment. “You’re so stiff…”

He spoke no doubt a bit louder than even he anticipated, “Not stiff!” His sudden surge in volume took you back, the abruptness of his response leaving you momentarily unsettled. But as his words settled into the space between you, you quickly found yourself adjusting again into comfort.

“Just a habit, I assure you.” His voice was softer this time, a hint of something more raw slipping through his usual certainty. “I have been trained to be vigilant, at all times. I suppose it’s just how I’ve learned to exist.”

“Hm. I see…” Your brow furrowed, pursing your lips together almost imperceivably. You extend your arms to place one hand on each of his shoulders, meeting his gaze you search the embers of his unbandaged iris for any sign of discomfort before cupping your hands.

You, for only a moment, feel the heat of his gaze rake over, consuming each inch of your form. It was enough to make your skin prickle under its blistering intensity. Being used as its fuel, a slow burn ignited in your chest, radiating outward in waves, trailing sparks down to your fingertips and toes. You pry your eyes from your own hands back to his blistering stare to catch his lashes flutter briefly, clenching his eyes shut as if mentally reprimanding himself.

Your palms take in the dense sinews forming sharp lines and curved ridges beneath your palms, before you push them down from their contraction. His arms finally dropping from their cross to his sides. You try to cut through the tension imparting a squeeze in a circular motion to the corded muscle between your thumb and fingers.

As the pressure deepened, a soft, involuntary shudder rippled through him, a sudden tremor that surged from his shoulders down to his spine. It caused him to partially heave forward, his posture faltering as his head tilted to the side. A strangled sound—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper—escaped his lips.

You pull back your hands instinctively. “I-I didn’t mean…”

He shifted slightly, avoiding your gaze for a brief moment, the blush deepening down to his neck. “I... I think I made a rather odd sound just now... My sincerest apologies” He spoke just above a murmur, his tone uncharacteristically timid, and pupils blown wide. “I must have broken my Total Concentration Breathing. I-I just… did not expect that to feel so good.”

After a moment, his voice came again, a little more vulnerable than usual, almost tentative. “May I hold you?” For a man so often brimming with confidence and conviction, this sudden bashfulness was endearing, almost disarming.

You echoed the words that had made your heart flutter since you heard them, “I am yours after all.” As the moments stretched on, the world outside began to blur, your breaths falling in sync with his. His hand trailed absentmindedly through your hair, his touch lulling you closer to sleep. Just before the haze of slumber overtook you, you felt him press the lightest kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as though committing the moment to memory.

And so, wrapped in his embrace, safe within the steady glow of his presence, you drifted off. For even in sleep, you knew you were wholly his, and he, yours.

—————————————

Kyojuro found himself restless with the first breaks of light, the flecks of dawn slowly spreading from the base of the horizon as the sky remained inked with the deep indigo of night.

He sat up, given the opaque darkness of the sky it was hard to believe that golden rays of light would cut through the boundless pitch black expanse above him.

Since he had awoken, he had begun to be enchanted by things he had never paid much mind to before. The way the dawn happened to bleed into night, if there was nothing else you could rely on in this world, there was solace to be found in the consistency of daybreak.

No matter how empty the void of night seemed, the dawn would overcome it anyway, illuminating the heavens without fail. Admirable. It was truly admirable.

Turning his gaze toward you, his heart softened even further. You lay curled beside him, your expression serene in the half-light, your hair tousled from sleep. Kyojuro couldn’t help but smile—bright and warm, though he kept it quiet, not wanting to disturb you. He leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to the crest of your hairline, lingering for a moment as if to savor the touch.

"Rest well," he whispered, his voice low and affectionate. Carefully, he slipped from the futon, each movement deliberate and gentle so as not to disturb the stillness that wrapped around you like a cocoon.

While cooking was outside his expertise, he was more than capable of boiling water in a hagama with tea leaves.

As he entered the main room to prepare it, he noticed his father already seated with his gaze fixed on the sky. Kyojuro’s instincts made him want to turn around and recede right then and there, before stopping himself.

“You are up early, Father.” Kyojuro shifted his head to the side almost as if to hide his face. He could hardly bring himself to face the former Flame Hashira. In his father's eyes, the cold sweat on his brow and the ghostly pallor of his skin would no doubt serve as a (half) living testament to the very words he had insisted upon to Kyojuro for years.

His hand quivered as he sprinkled a spoonful of the tea leaves into water before beginning to boil them together on the wood stove.

Shinjuro hardly acknowledged the presence of another behind him more than a quick glance over the shoulder. His expression was as equally austere and annoyed as usual.

Similar to how Shinjuro kept his eyes firmly locked onto the slow ascent of the sun, Kyojuro relegated his own gaze to the kettle on the stove, barely looking away as the silence was intermittently broken by the sound of chimes swaying in the breeze.

When the water adopted the greenish hue from the tea leaves, he removed the hagama from the heat.

“Uh... tea, Father?” Kyojuro said as he set out two cups just in case. It was unusual enough his father was awake at dawn, and out of his room. He rarely saw Shinjuro eat or drink much, usually sleeping or drinking the day away, it would be even more unusual for him to break that pattern. But, he felt obliged to ask him anyway.

Shinjuro spoke, his voice gruff as it had been as long as Kyojuro could remember. “Sure.” He paused for a long time before adding, “Thank you…”

Kyojuro looked up with shock, but only to look at the back of Shinjuro’s head once again. He poured the liquid into the cups, curls of steam wafting from each one with an earthy aroma.

With one in each hand he brought it over to where his father sat at the edge of the room, the sky fading from nox to a peach tone as the apex of the sun became visible over the horizon line.

He lowered his head as he placed the cup on the ground, Shinjuro’s scarred hand wrapping around it where it sat. Kyojuro slowly backed away from where he resided to leave him be.

“You can sit, son.” Shinjuro said, finally turning over his shoulder to meet Kyojuro’s gaze. Kyojuro moved closer again trepidatiously before lowering himself to the ground with a sharp exhale, the pressure on his wound making his face twist momentarily as he did so.

Kyojuro could not help but notice the thick, pungent smell of sake—a scent that had been a constant companion to his father for as long as he could remember—was completely absent this morning.

“In nearly 20 years as a pillar, I used that damned form three times.” Shinjuro spoke, his eyes not leaving the sky as he took a sip of the tea in his hand. “You’ve used it twice that I know of, but it’s been more times than that, right?”

Kyojuro did not even want to reply to his father’s probing, it would not matter anyway, they both knew the answer to the question.

The former pillar’s jaw clenched in grim recognition of Kyojuro's telling silence. However, the response was not angered, but seemed shackled with the heaviness of frustration.

Kyojuro took a long drink of the cup of tea in his hand, it was easier than thinking of the right thing to say.

Shinjuro continued, his voice steady but carrying a hint of weariness. “I practically memorized each word of the chronicles. The Breath of Flames like every other breath will always be derivative. Yet our swordsmen are the only ones who refuse to believe that. Neither the chosen ones nor those blissfully content with their own mediocrity use anything as foolish or self destructive as that damn 9th form.”

Kyojuro knows the destruction he spoke of all too well. The gelatinous cartilage protecting the shoulders, knees, elbows, hip flexors, ankles, spine, it was all fickle.

Once the body has worn it down, usually through decades upon decades of usage the grating discomfort of bone on bone friction rarely goes away, in many cases it can leave one chair bound from the intensity of every joint aching.

While all such an affliction can happen naturally with the flow of time, but the amount of power emitted from the 9th form was anything but natural.

The records of the ways of Flame Breathing made this clear to the user. Even by the standard of breath forms, which already amplify the body beyond its innate threshold, the concentration of power in the 9th form of Flame Breathing was exceptionally great.

The amount of strain on the body by the 9th form was more than some could handle. Some Flame Pillars of the past did not have the composition to use it more than once or twice at absolute most. The immense pressure on the body had a way of hastening degeneration. The form was strictly a last resort when facing a foe that needed to be defeated at all costs.

The brighter and hotter a flame burns, the sooner it flickers out. Yet each time he was left with no other option but to use it, he did so without hesitation.

He had always fought to save lives with his body as little more than collateral in the grand scheme of his duty, so what did a few adverse side effects matter if it allowed him to prevail against a powerful demon that could go on to devour dozens?

Shinjuro muttered under his breath bitterly as if trying to suppress a visceral growl gathering in his lungs at the words alone. “The Breath of Flames, the Flame Hashira mantle, all of it, who gives a damn about a line of talentless fools breaking themselves just to end up average. It’s just a pitiful tale, nothing more. I’ve asked myself over and over why anyone would want to pass that on to the next generations.”

He shook his head slowly with an exhale, his knuckles becoming lighter as he gripped his cup more tightly before releasing it again. “I knew I should’ve destroyed the infernal pages of the Flame Hashira Chronicles a long time ago.”

Kyojuro’s tone became calmer than even he knew it to be, almost as if unconsciously imitating the softness of how his own mother spoke to him all those years ago. “Whether it is pitiful or not, it memorializes their will. Their triumph, their struggle, none of it will go unnoticed, and they will be remembered fondly for their bravery and their role in our history.”

Shinjuro was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant still settled on the peach streaks as they became gold across the sky. “Did you ever read about my predecessor?” He grumbled with narrowed eyes.

Kyojuro’s brow furrowed into thought before replying. “Our grandfather, yes of course. I read about every Flame Hashira. It is a shame Senjuro and I never met him.”

“Trust me, you’re lucky you only ever read about him.” Shinjuro let out a forced chuckle before taking another sip. “Obsessed with the family legacy, he’d probably have carved ‘Flame Hashira’ into my chest the day I was born if he thought it would keep me from forgetting who I was meant to be. And just my luck—I happened to be the bastard’s only child. That meant all his expectations, all his delusions about immortality through legacy, fell squarely on my shoulders.”

Kyojuro heard a pain in his father’s voice that he had only caught a handful of times before—a rare, almost fleeting vulnerability that Shinjuro rarely allowed anyone to see. His mind drifted back to faded, gilded memories. When his father’s smile had been constant, his pride unwavering. He could still recall the way his father’s eyes would light up as he passed down his sword skills to him and Senjuro, enthusiastic and patient.

Those memories were growing hazy with time, as though they were trapped in the mist of nostalgia, but the warmth they stirred within him was unmistakable. It was the kind of warmth that invigorated him—like the very ichorous blood of the Flame Hashira flowed through his veins, and he was destined for greatness.

“Perhaps…” Kyojuro murmured, his voice wistful, “Perhaps… He must have seen potential in you… " His eyes fell to the ground, his chest felt hollow as if the air was being drawn from it. "And that was the reason he pushed you so hard and did not ever give up on you...”

Shinjuro’s lips pressed together into a firm line. “Potential? No. He didn’t see me. Not as a person. I was a tool, a means to an end—a way to keep the Rengoku name alive, to make himself feel like he mattered.”

Shinjuro's voice held calm, but kept carrying the crushing weight of resignation.“Part of me wanted to show him I would be the last Flame Breathing user,” His eyes stayed distant, unblinking.

“Just let our name die out, fade into oblivion as a fragment of history. Just so my miserable old man’s last thought would be regret. That nothing he tried his damndest to maintain would last after one generation. I refused to be another cog in the perpetual machine.”

Kyojuro looked down at the swirls of green fluid in the cup as he held it in his lap. His voice curious as he looked over, as though trying to understand a piece of the past he had never been allowed to see. “What changed your mind?”

“Your mother…” Shinjuro’s lips twisted slightly, but not with anger—more like a quiet bitterness that he no longer had the energy to hide under anger or indifference. “But just like everything else, it was all futile, just a beautiful dream she was kind enough to let me believe in. Even for just a little while.”

Kyojuro’s eyes flickered, a quiet understanding passing between them at her mention.

Shinjuro let out a long sigh, setting his cup down with a soft clink, though his movements remained languid. “I don’t know if she fell victim to the suffering fate has ordained for us by becoming my bride. Maybe she stood a chance before then. But not us, if you’re born into it, you don’t have a choice, it's your cross to bear whether you want it or not. That’s the cruel joke. That’s the purgatory we’re bound to.”

The sun was higher now, and the colors in the sky deepened, casting a warm glow over everything.

Shinjuro’s voice broke the stillness again, his voice softer now than Kyojuro had known in so long. “I never wanted to be the kind of man to force a son to swing a sword until he vomited and his hands were torn open and bleeding. I should’ve never let either of you boys touch a blade. Just let the cycle end and be free. But you and Senjuro... you were always drawn to it. Always. I could see it in your eyes.”

His gaze turned, albeit reluctantly, to Kyojuro, meeting his gaze in earnest. “We can’t help it, can we? It's in our blood I suppose.”

The sun was fully risen now, casting a golden glow over the room, spilling warmth across the tatami floor. Shinjuro, still staring out at the horizon, sighed deeply, a silent self condemnation. “I wasn’t capable of protecting Ruka, or the many junior swordsmen, or countless civilians, but I once hoped even a good for nothing father could protect his own children if nothing else.”

Kyojuro’s eyes lingered on his father, the warmth of the rising sun casting a gentle light on the hard lines of Shinjuro’s face. He didn’t know what he could possibly say.

Kyojuro sat in the silence that followed his father's words, the weight of Shinjuro’s rare admission lingering in the air. He could feel the old, familiar tension between them, but it was softer now—more fragile, like the delicate balance of the morning light spilling across the floor.

Shinjuro’s voice was both steady and solemn. "Kyojuro, you are a better man than I. You and your brother both. A strong man can learn from a weaker one how to become even stronger."

The words were unexpected, catching Kyojuro off guard. He glanced up at his father, his eyes searching the features of Shinjuro’s face for some sign that this wasn’t just another passing moment of wistful resignation. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone. Kyojuro’s chest tightened, though he didn’t fully know why.

Shinjuro took a breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. “Just remember, you have a whole life ahead of you. It’s yours to do with what you wish.”

There was something in Shinjuro’s words that stirred in Kyojuro—a faint flicker of hope, like a spark in the dark. He wanted to say something, to respond, but the weight of the moment was so heavy, so rare, that all he could do was nod.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, before leaving on heavy footsteps.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of his own body was a burden he carried with resignation.

He gave Kyojuro one last look, something softer than usual in his eyes, before he turned toward the door. "I’m going to go check on Senjuro. He’s been having nightmares lately."

Kyojuro’s gaze lingered on his father’s retreating back. The room felt quieter now, the silence settling between them like something solid. He wanted to speak—wanted to say something that could erase the years of distance between them, and his father’s regrets.

The warmth of the sun seemed to spill into his very bones, filling the hollow places with a kind of quiet understanding. It wasn't a resolution. It wasn’t a grand moment of reconciliation. But it was something.

A rare crack in the wall that had always stood between them. And for the first time in a long while, Kyojuro thought maybe, just maybe, it was a step toward something else. Something better.

—————————————

He awoke to start the day as he had nearly every day for the past. Getting ready at dawn as he always did, cautious not to awaken you in the room beyond the thin panel walls. Donning his corps uniform kaen haori, against Kocho’s advice to receive help.

Moving deliberately he raised his arms to twist the thick honey blonde layers of his hair, he felt a sharp pang in his abdomen. He froze in place, his eyes widened before clenching shut. The pain forcing him to grip the edge of the nearest furniture for support.

His hand moved from his chest back to his sides as he opened his eyes slowly, a hint of embarrassment creeping over him. It was as if he feared that when his eyelids lifted, he would find disappointed faces gazing back at him.

He continued the routine that made him worthy of the rank of Hashira. His resolve only strengthened, it would not matter so long as he could prove to himself, he was still strong, the capable protector of others.

The sun’s early light casting across his face, he moved with purpose across the same grounds that he and generations of Flame Pillars before him honed their skills in the heart of the ancestral estate. The ground beneath him was packed earth, worn smooth from endless footfalls.

Unsheathing his katana, he took a deep breath, grip tightening on the handle of his garnet nichirin sword. But the blade that was once a weightless extension of himself felt heavier, more cumbersome.

Performing the stances he had forged into his very bones with the years. His fluidity between each form was lacking. Even in total concentration he found himself sputtering if his chest expanded too much on the inhale. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple in the Summer sun, the brine making the unhealed gash across his eye socket sting lightly.

He was not blessed with the near supernatural acuteness of sense others possessed. Some of his comrades had such heightened perception, blindness itself was not even a burden. But he was quite the opposite, since the mission he lost most of his hearing, he had learned to instead rely on his vision to be fully aware of his surroundings at all times.

In the line of duty, he even had trained himself to reduce the frequency of blinking so as to not let his own inability to perceive his surroundings with his other senses create an opening for an enemy to strike.

Each swing and subsequent sharp ache in his abdomen was a reminder that not long ago, a demon had punched straight through his body as if he were hollow. A lifetime of working towards becoming a paragon of invincibility rendered worthless in an instant.

He had spent his life mastering control over every part of his own body. Every fiber, every nerve ending. The idea he was spared by chance was nauseating. By chance, the blow didn’t destroy any vital organs, killing him instantly. By chance, the kakushi were able to move him quickly enough. By chance, he managed to wake up from Kocho’s induced sleep at all.

Kyojuro shifted into the next stance, forcing his body to remember the rhythm of each fiery surge of power. He longed for the zone he could so easily slip into. When each cell of his body felt as though it burned with the intensity of his soul, no amount of pain or exhaustion could dampen it.

The searing tenacity, the flow. Wiping his brow he found the warm flow he desired, albeit in a drastically different form. A crimson streak across the back of his hand was the last thing he saw before sanguine blood obscured the vision in his left eye once again. Pressing the heel of his hand against his eye once again in an attempt to stop the seep from the wound.

—————————————

You were well aware of Kyojuro’s routine, if he was off bed rest chances are he would go back to it even against the better judgment of others, and probably himself too.

So when you saw him sitting with his back to the house, cross legged in the middle of the training field, his katana sheathed on his right side a change from it usually placed on his left. Stranger than that, you had rarely seen him take breaks much less fully sit down on the grass.

“Are you alr-You’re bleeding!” Once you were within his earshot, you

He looked over his shoulder with his right eye anxiously following your exclamatory reaction. He assured you with a forced cheerfulness, though the flicker of uncertainty in his voice betrayed the bravado. “Although,” he continued, his tone lowering slightly, “I fear if Senjuro sees me like this, he might go into a panic…”

As much as you wanted to scold him for neglecting his own wellbeing for the sake of others yet again, he had a point. Senjuro had just been in a state of shock wondering if he would ever see his brother again. The last thing he needed was to see Kyojuro hurt yet again.

“Yes! I-I’ll get some first aid!”

You moved briskly back to the house to retrieve some standard medical supplies. Coming out to sit on his left side in the grass, mimicking his seated position with his back to the home. From the way you angled yourself, legs folding to your side, if Senjuro happened to walk by, perhaps he would just figure you both were basking in the sun on a nice day and nothing more.

You slowly shake your head as you begin to wet the clean cloth with rubbing alcohol. “You are an exceptionally lucky man, you know that?”

He chuckled lightly, a glowing smile spreading across his face. “I suppose I am if a beautiful lady is willing to take care of me.”

You sigh, glancing down for a moment fighting back a grin that will no doubt spread to you like a contagion. “Look up please.” As you asked, his irises shifted upwards as you moved the cloth in your hand toward him, the laceration across his left eye freshly reopened on full display, stretching clear across his eyelid and nearly severing his eyebrow.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Kyojuro Rengoku. You know what I mean.” You can’t help but smile through the scoff you force out, your attempts to remain stern and impress upon him seriousness foiled.

Holding the damp cloth with a steady grip, you approach his eye with utmost caution, ensuring you don’t accidentally brush against his ink-black lashes. You carefully touch the rag to his face, disinfecting the length of the wound, your movements deliberate and gentle.

“No! I am merely speaking the truth you are-” His proclamation was halted by a wince at the sting from the antiseptic’s contact with the raw wound.

“I’m sorry if that hurts.” Your brow furrows as you pull the cloth away, necessary as it was to do, it pained you to be the cause of any further bodily discomfort for him.

You take a minute to find the most appropriate way to say what you mean, for both of your sakes. “First they weren’t sure you would…”

You meet his gaze tacitly before continuing. “Then Shinobu-san tells you the chances of retaining sight in your left eye was nonexistent, and here you are breathing and seeing and yet you still keep pushing yourself to the point of coming apart at the seams.” You try to mask your unease, seeing him continue working himself beyond his limits, when he is already so fragile at the moment.

“At least wear the eyepatch the Butterfly Mansion issued you!” You implore with something of a half smile. The sheer stubbornness with which he dismissed every injury, no matter how serious, would be humorous if it wasn’t so deeply concerning.

“Oh please, I need no such thing! I’m doing nothing I cannot handle, I assure you.” That authoritative voice, brimming with optimism. It was so easy to hear it, and blindly take each word as fact. But you know better by now, you could’ve told him every bone in his body was broken beyond repair and he would probably still respond that way. Even so, you want to trust him to stay within his means.

“Ok, ok you’re ‘fine.’ I understand.” You reply resignedly speaking on your exhale. “Just please just take care of your eye. You’ve always had the most lovely eyes…” You say looking deeply into the golden rimmed eyes of the man before you.

Usually, when those spoke of the Rengoku family, they used the word "powerful" to describe their distinctive features—sharp cheekbones, avian-esque orbs, blazing hair, and the aura of intensity that seemed to radiate from them. They served as yet another irrefutable motif that connected each Flame Pillar to the long legacy of unrivaled swordsmen bearing the Rengoku name.

“Powerful” was no doubt a compliment. He had always taken pride in the honor of possessing the iconic visage of his courageous ancestors. “Lovely” was different though. It felt intimate, a word that captured a softness. One rarely used when likening the fierce warriors of the Rengoku lineage with description, or him by that association.

“If you like them, then I am only more excited by the prospect of passing them onto our children one day!” He exclaimed, the ever present ember burning behind his gaze billowing into a roaring inferno with joyous fervor.

Your cheeks flushed like a watercolor canvas, rosy hues blooming across your complexion. He could only surmise in that moment the evident dilation of your pupils to be a product of shock, at worse maybe even discomfort.

He had gotten overzealous again, it was all too easy for him to put his foot in his mouth and take someone aback when he felt impassioned enthusiasm overflowing from him. However, you didn’t seem jarred or off put by his sudden pronouncement. You gaze warmed, softly smiling back at him.

“Yes, me too.” Your voice on the gentle breeze was as steady and sincere.

But for a moment, it all fell away. The corps, his family legacy, the pillars, all of it. Holding her knees gently on the grassy Earth beside him, looking back at him. Rays of light catching against her skin, wrapping around her like a golden embrace, illuminating her form with a radiance that seemed almost otherworldly. Her hair danced in the breeze, tousling it to frame her face with an effervescent allure.

He felt warmth creeping up his cheeks, just as it had for her moments ago. He desperately tried to suppress the flush as he turned his gaze downward, focusing intently on the ground.

Death or disablement. Kyojuro knew these to be the only two circumstances in which a pillar could honorably resign from their post. Here he was, neither dead nor maimed. The verdict ought to be clear as day. He was more than aware of the inevitable weakness that all humans must experience in time.

But to face that inevitability when he could still do so much? If he could swing a katana, he had a duty to serve. Right? His father should have continued serving as the Flame Hashira until he lost his sharpness to age.

But the day Mother passed, something died in Father, or maybe something already dead within him had begun to fester. Kyojuro always told himself that he would not succumb to the same fate, despair would not be the death of him, certainly not if even an Upper Rank wasn’t.

“I have… a friend… who is thinking about their future as a Hashira.” Kyojuro spoke with an uncharacteristic softness, fingers fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.

You looked at him inquisitively before having what you believe to be a revelation. “You mean the Sound Pillar?”

“Oh… right, yes. Uzui, of course.” Kyojuro's words stumbled out, a nervous smile flickering on his lips, eyes darting away, as if relieved to hear you identify the former Hashira, already settled on retirement.

“If he decides to retire, does it mean he has lost his passion? Or maybe he is running away?” His voice raised closer to its usual vivacity, but the typical enthusiasm felt infected with an air of apprehension. His fingers tightened around the sword’s hilt, outlining the flame insignia swordguard with a deliberate motion of his thumb.

Before you could even think to answer, he pressed on with another question, his urgency palpable.

“What if…” He paused, lightly clearing his throat adding the aforementioned yet again, his cadence returning to its equilibrium. “My friend…”

He looked deeply into your eyes, the bright vermillion honeycomb pools poured into yours like a gentle ray of sunlight at dawn, adorning everything within with its warmth. His words regained their normal directness in earnest. “Is worried the person he loves might not want him anymore, if he isn’t strong?”

You tilt your head, your gaze previously riddled with intrigue tempered tacitly at his probing, you understood now. “I’m certain the people in his life value him for more than something as superficial as his strength.”

You put your palms flat behind you on the tufts of grass leaning back to feel the sun warm your face.

“I don’t think of ‘strong’ as a person, I think of it as a state of being. We are all allowed to be weak and rely on the strength of others, and when others are weak we can give them our strength. No one person has to be strong all the time.”

More importantly, you saw through the electric personality of the natural born leader to all and the brave exterior of the warrior. You saw the man beneath it all. The kind of soul that was as tender as it was resiliently fortuitous.

Hanging on every word you notice the intertwine of his arms, crossed against his chest as he clung on your every word with rapt attentiveness. You straighten your posture leaning toward him, interlocking your fingers to the corded sinews of his forearms, pulling them from their interwoven tensed state as you had done before.

You took his worn hands in your own. “Well I hope you tell ‘your friend’ as much. Although, I would like to ask you something now if you would allow me.”

“Of course my flame, anything.” he replied, his voice filled with earnestness, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Did you remember what I told you in the Butterfly Mansion? The last thing I said to you before you lost consciousness?”

His eyes narrowed as they trailed off into thought. He racked his brain for the last moment of light before his eyelids fell heavily as the sounds around him dissipated into silence. Before the oblivion of the serum he was injected with took effect, only muffled words cut by sobs come to mind.

“Please forgive me, I cannot recall.” He bowed his head remorsefully before meeting you again with a hopeful countenance. “Would you tell me again, my flame?”

A rosy hue rouges your cheeks as you fidget from side to side where you sat, part of you didn’t want to tear your gaze from the safety of the trodden Earth . But you couldn’t stand the idea of missing a moment basking in the bright eyes of the man you nearly lost.

“I told you that I loved you...” Your voice was a murmur, barely above a whisper, and as your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “I love you. I meant it, I love who you are. That will not be changed by what you are.”

“I have never found many things in life that I could not bring myself to love, or so I thought.” “What a fool I was. I did not even know what that word meant back then. What a truly lucky man I am.”

You would’ve liked to sappily argue that it was, in fact, you who was the lucky one. However, you knew the endless back-and-forth that would’ve followed if you did.

So instead, you let both your body and heart bask in warmth from two separate suns—one worlds away, and one right beside you. You let the moment linger between you, content in the quiet truth that you didn’t need to say it aloud for him to know you felt the same.

To be continued...

Taglist: @rift-and-rise @leannathespacewerewolf @hellscampcounselor @hauntedaugust @obsidianlive @oh1boy @chocolatebannana2 @erexart @vaelzz @kalypsoox @jiy-une @mayyhaps

#kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyojuro rengoku x you #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer x you #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku x you #kimestu no yaiba

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starkwlkr · 5 months ago

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“he’s here!” | logan howlett

an: this is inspired by the scene in x-men 97 where jean tells logan “he’s here!” because she’s in labor and logan’s all like “who? apocalypse?” and whips out his claws expecting to fight and jean just yells at him “the baby!” omg my favorite scene lol

mutant!reader (telekinesis baby!!!!)

It was a quiet normal day in the mansion. Rogue was helping you set up the finishing touches to the baby’s nursery. With a wave of your hand, you assembled the last shelf where Rogue placed a the ultrasound pictures.

“So you still don’t have a name for the baby?” Rogue asked. Every day it was the same question, all she wanted was to know the name. It was a secret for everyone.

“We do, Rogue, we just agreed to reveal it after the birth. You’ll find out soon, everyone will.” You said, walking towards the door of the nursery. You took one last look at the room and sighed. In a few days, your son would be sleeping in that same room.

“Oh! I forgot to show you something! Bobby and I went to the mall the other day and I found the cutest outfit for the baby. I’ll go get it.” Rogue said excitedly. She rushed out the nursery towards her room.

“I’ll be in the kitchen!” You called out. Being pregnant was exhausting. At the moment, you were craving fruit so you walked slowly to the kitchen. Everything was hurting lately, but you didn’t think much of it. You still had a week left until your baby boy was born.

When you finally made it to the kitchen, you found Logan drinking a beer that he had snuck in. “I thought I told you to stay in bed.” Logan stood up from his chair and walked over to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sick of staying in bed all day. I needed to move. Rogue was helping me finish up the nursery,” As soon as you said nursery, he was about to start scolding you. “I barely lifted a finger! She was moving everything, I just told her what to do.” You half lied.

“Sure, if that helps you sleep at night, baby.” Logan chucked.

You playfully hit his arm then walked to the refrigerator in search of a container of fruit that Logan had cut up for you. You found it with a note attached that said ‘baby howlett’s mom’. You smiled at the note. As you pulled it out of the refrigerator, you felt a sharp pain. It caused you to let go of the container, the contents of it spilling everywhere on the kitchen floor.

Logan rushed over to you quickly. “What’s wrong? Where is it hurting?”

“Logan . . .” You groaned. “He’s here!”

Immediately Logan’s claws came out. “Who? Magneto?” He looked around the kitchen frantically in search of the possible threat. “Stryker? Show yourself, you son of a bitch!” He yelled.

You couldn’t believe it. Did he suddenly forget you were pregnant? Maybe it was the beer finally getting to him. . .

You groaned once more as the pain struck again. “The baby!” You screamed. You waved your hand, his jacket and keys were thrown at him.

Logan’s eyes widened when he heard those words. He was about to become a father. “Oh crap.”

“Take me to the hospital, you asshole!”

After quickly finishing his beer in one sip, he helped you down the stairs. You couldn’t stand the pain. Each time you felt pain, objects around you would break. As you were walking towards the main entrance, you passed by a coffee table with a vase on it.

“Ah! Fuck!” You winced as a contraction hit you hard. The vase exploded as a result. “Shit!”

“It’s okay, Charles hated that vase anyways!” Logan assured you. In reality, the vase was a gift that was in his family for years. Maybe Charles wouldn’t notice.

“Logan!” The couple heard Rogue yell out. “I’m coming with you!”

Before Logan could protest, you scream once more causing several objects in the living room to break like tables and chairs. Even the TV screen had exploded. You didn’t mean to do that.

“Just help me get her into the car.” Logan instructed Rogue, who quickly ran to your side and helped you down the steps of the mansion.

“I really really hate you right now.” You said to Logan.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

#logan howlett oneshot #marvel fanfiction #x men one shot #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader

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violetarks · 7 months ago

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“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji

summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it

↣ gojo satoru

"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"

"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"

"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."

you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.

"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."

"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.

"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."

the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.

so he followed you, obviously.

he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.

and luckily he did; you looked miserable.

he takes out his phone as soon as possible.

“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”

you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.

when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.

you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.

“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”

you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.

“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”

you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.

"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.

"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"

"what did you buy?"

"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"

"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."

you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.

that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.

"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."

you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.

"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"

"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"

"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."

"but my date—"

"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."

you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.

"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."

"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."

you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.

but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.

"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."

"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.

"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."

"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."

"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."

"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."

there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.

"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.

"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.

"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."

"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."

"so am i your type?"

"oh my god."

"answer the question, y/n."

↣ choso

"yuuji?"

"yeah?"

"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.

"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”

“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”

“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”

he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.

“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”

“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”

“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”

“i’m sorry, choso.”

“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”

yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.

“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”

“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”

yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.

choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.

“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.

“this guy…” choso grunts.

inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.

it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.

“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”

“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”

“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”

“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”

“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”

you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.

"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."

"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.

"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."

"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."

"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."

"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.

"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"

"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.

but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.

"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.

your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.

"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.

"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.

the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.

"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."

your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.

"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"

"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."

"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."

"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"ah... i'm not that confident—"

"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."

he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.

"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.

"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."

"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"

"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."

"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"

"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."

choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.

"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.

you throw your keys at his chest.

"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."

yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.

you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.

"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."

"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.

you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.

"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."

"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."

the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.

↣ fushiguro toji

"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."

you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.

cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.

shoe

you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow

y/n

am or pm?

shoe

???

shoe

don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht

y/n

why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?

shoe

he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.

sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.

you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.

"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?

"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.

"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.

'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.

"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.

"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."

you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.

unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.

and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.

he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.

"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.

"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"

"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."

"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"

"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."

"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.

he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."

"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"

"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."

you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.

"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.

"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.

you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.

"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."

with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."

"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.

"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.

"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”

“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.

“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”

“do you want to go out or not?”

you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”

“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”

“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."

"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."

"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."

toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.

"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."

"did you think i was paying for this one?"

you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."

"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #choso #choso x reader #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months ago

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Walk Dates

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (+ Kojo and r's service dog)

Summary: You and your service dog meet Tim and Kojo during a walk. The dogs force you and Tim to keep meeting, but neither of you mind. When you're late for a walk because of an emergency, Tim decides he would like to be more than walk-buddies.

Warnings: r has a service dog for unspecified reasons, r passes out and goes to the hospital, mostly fluff! unplanned Shania Twain reference

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Match my shoes or complement?” you ask your dog.

She barks once and raises her left paw to point to the grey booties you’re holding. You nod and put the other pair away before kneeling before her. She raises one foot at a time so you can put her shoes on to protect her paws from the concrete outside. Your doctor told you going on walks could be beneficial for your mental and physical health, and your service dog seems to enjoy them just as much as you do.

“Ready to walk?” you ask as you stand.

Rather than barking to answer, she runs to the end cabinet in your kitchen and sits. Her leash and your small medical bag are inside, and you shake your head in amusement. Once your bag is on your back and her leash is clipped to her harness, you exit the back door and lock it behind you.

“Let’s go, girl.”

Tim sighs as he shifts his truck into park. His shift was hectic, but he knows Kojo has been trapped inside and would like a walk. The weather is nice today, so it would do Tim some good to get outside too, he thinks.

As Tim suspected, Kojo is bouncing excitedly and full of energy when he enters. Kojo runs to the shelf holding his harness and leash, then back to Tim. “I know, I know. Let’s do it, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo.

They leave a few minutes later, and Tim takes a deep breath as Kojo leads the way. The neighborhood isn’t busy this time of day, so Tim can relax a bit and follow Kojo rather than dictate where they go while actively looking for any threats.

Your service dog stops when another dog barks happily. You look away from the butterfly you were watching and smile when you see a man walking a dog. His dog seems interested in meeting your dog, and you click your tongue to signal her to keep walking.

“Kojo, no,” the man says, pulling the leash tight to his side.

“Hello,” you greet kindly.

“Hi,” the man replies, dipping his head in greeting. “Kojo.”

“Beautiful dog,” you add.

“He thinks that means he can do whatever he wants. Sorry, he likes meeting other dogs.”

“He’s fine,” you promise.

“She’s working, Kojo,” he whispers harshly.

“He can come over,” you offer. “She’s sweet, and she can multitask.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

The man loosens his grip on the leash and steps toward you. Your dog wags her tail quickly, slapping your leg every time she does. She sits, and Kojo flops down as they introduce themselves as dogs do.

You extend your right hand and tell the man your name and your dog’s name.

“I’m Tim, and that’s Kojo,” he replies. “We usually have more manners.”

Your dog steps over Kojo’s back legs to stand over him, and you chuckle as you say, “We don’t.”

“I haven’t seen you over here before.”

“Our walk times differ daily,” you explain. “I should start coming out now, though, because there’s no one else.”

“That’s why we love it.”

Your dog stands quickly and presses her nose into your thigh. Time to go home. “That’s my cue,” you tell Tim. “Maybe we’ll see you and Kojo on another walk soon.”

“That’d be nice. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Tim agrees. You smile as your dog leads you back the way you came. Tim is nice, his dog is adorable, and they exude comfort. You truly wouldn’t mind running into him again, you decide.

As you leave, Tim watches you go, and Kojo does too. Kojo looks up at Tim and pants happily.

“Good boy, Kojo,” Tim compliments. “But we need to talk about your manners. Service dogs can’t always hang out, bud.”

Kojo tilts his head as his ears perk, and Tim shrugs. He doesn’t know why you have a service dog, but it doesn’t matter. You do.

“We’re both going to be thinking about them for a while aren’t we?”

Kojo barks in return, and Tim sighs. There are worse things to think of.

Tim falls asleep thinking of you and wakes with a smile on his face. Kojo jumps onto his bed with his leash in his mouth, and Tim assumes he’s thinking about you and your dog, too. When Angela and Lucy started joking that Tim and Kojo were exactly the same, just different species, he didn’t expect to prove them right so easily.

“Fine, fine,” Tim concedes when Kojo moves to stand on his chest. “A quick walk before work. They won’t be there, though.”

Tim shakes his head as Kojo leads him to the same stretch of sidewalk where they met you last night. You’re nowhere to be seen, as expected, but Kojo keeps walking.

“Good morning, Kojo.”

Tim looks up quickly when he hears your voice, and your smile is stronger than any coffee he’s ever tried. He returns your smile and steps closer. Kojo greets your dog happily, and they step into the grass-covered yard beside you.

“Good morning to you, too, Tim,” you add.

“Good morning. Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“This one couldn’t stop thinking about Kojo,” you explain, pointing to your dog. “And my doctor wants me to walk more, so win-win.”

“They’re best friends now, aren’t they?” Tim asks.

You turn at the same time as him, and your arm presses against his as you watch your dogs play together.

“They certainly are. Do you think they’ll keep waking us up to see each other?”

“Kojo will.”

“She will, too.”

“Well, I have to get to work, but it was great seeing you. Kojo appreciates your early morning walk.”

“What do you do?” You scrunch your nose and add, “Sorry, if that’s too personal you don’t have to answer.”

“Not at all,” Tim assures. “I’m a cop.”

“I knew it,” you reply.

“What about you?”

You give him a quick overview of what you do but leave out the part where sometimes your dog won’t let you. She does her job a bit too well sometimes and she’s already pulled you away from Tim once.

“Have a good day at work, Tim,” you say. “See you around.”

“You, too.”

Over the next week, you and Tim meet on walks once or twice a day. Your dog seems attuned to Kojo’s schedule and leads you to Tim every time you go for a walk. Within a week, you and Tim decide to walk together rather than stand in one place and interrupt your walks.

“I- this may be too forward,” Tim begins as you walk beside him.

“May not be,” you counter.

“Would you want to exchange numbers? It could be easier to let these two partners in crime meet up if we can talk before,” he suggests.

“Don’t call them partners in crime! Then you’d have to arrest them.”

“I’m sure they’d get off with a warning.”

“Tim!” You chuckle before agreeing to exchange numbers.

When your fingers brush Tim’s as you hand him your phone, you suddenly understand why your dog wants to see him and Kojo every day. You could get used to life at his side.

“I tried to leave last night to run to the store, but Kojo wouldn’t let me pass his leash,” Tim tells you as he returns your phone. “Had to take him for a walk before I could go get dinner.”

“Is he that convincing?” you inquire.

“He’s that bossy.”

“I wonder if he gets it from you,” you muse playfully.

“His former owner. Friend of mine from work, so I can blame that on her.”

“But all of his good traits are from you?” you guess.

Tim shrugs with a smile, and you bump your shoulder against his. These walks are doing you more good than your doctor anticipated. Your dog hasn’t alerted you to any health-related threats in days, which you attribute directly to walking with Tim and Kojo.

“Tim…” could we be more than neighbors who walk their dogs together?

Tim says your name, matching your tone as you return to your starting place.

“I just wanted to ask if we could meet again tonight. For another walk, to wear them out before bed?” you suggest, rather than saying what you want to.

“Text me the time.”

You nod and return home with a smile on your face. Though you have plenty you could do, you waste most of the day staring at the clock and looking forward to meeting Tim and Kojo again.

The leash hangs limply from your hand after you retrieve it from the cabinet. Your health took a sudden dip about an hour ago, but you’re trying to stay strong enough for the walk. Paws thud on the floor behind you, and when she presses her snout firmly into your thigh, you lower your hand toward her head.

“I know,” you mumble weakly. “I know, girl. But we can walk, right?”

She barks before she tugs on your shirt with her teeth. You shake your head, and she wraps a paw around your calf. Despite your need to see Tim, you know she’s right, and you carefully lower to the floor. As soon as you sit, your dog licks your cheek and presses her nose to your chest, but her whines are muffled as your eyes flutter closed.

Tim has never been more excited to walk Kojo than he is today. He had a rough day at work, so he doesn’t hesitate to take Kojo out as soon as he arrives home. They get to your meeting spot early and wait. As your suggested time comes and goes, Kojo gets antsy. Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t have any messages from you. He sends you one, but it goes unread until he turns the screen off.

Kojo starts pulling on his leash a few minutes later. His nose is lowered to the ground, so Tim gives him some slack in his leash. Kojo walks through your usual route but passes the place where you and Tim part ways. He stops in front of a house several blocks from Tim’s and looks at the yard before he leads Tim to the door.

“What are you doing, Kojo?” Tim asks.

A dog barks inside, and as the barking continues, growing louder as the dog nears the door, Tim recognizes the sound of the bark. It’s your dog. She scratches against the door and whines, and Tim realizes that if you’re late and your service dog is upset in your house, something happened to you.

He leads Kojo off the porch and calls for an ambulance as he rounds the house. The side door is unlocked, and as Kojo steps inside, Tim sees your hand against the floor, with a leash beside it. Tim pushes the door open quickly and barely manages to catch it before it breaks the window behind it. Tim drops Kojo’s leash, and Kojo lies beside your legs to provide comfort to you and himself. Tim has known for over a week that Kojo loves you but seeing you like this makes Tim question how he feels about you.

Tim says your name but gets no answer. “Hey, girl,” he tells your dog instead. “What do I need to do? Show me.”

She presses her nose against your pulse point, and Tim follows suit on the other side. Your heart rate is elevated, and your slumped position is likely making it hard to breathe. Tim gently moves you into a more comfortable position as Kojo moves with you.

Your dog moves away from you and pulls a cabinet open before dragging a small backpack to Tim. He unzips it and sees medication, water with minerals and electrolytes, and a small booklet with instructions on what to do in case something like this happens.

Tim lays the book open and begins working through the recommended actions. In his mind, he pleads with you – begs you – to come back to him. He can hear the sirens on the ambulance approaching when you finally blink your eyes open.

“Tim?” you ask softly. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t meet us on the walk,” he answers. “Kojo got worried.”

“Just Kojo?” you ask knowingly, brushing a thumb over the crease between Tim’s eyebrows.

“Ambulance is here,” Tim tells you. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You see your bag beside him and whisper to thank him. “Sorry, I missed our walk.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me when you feel better,” he replies.

His hand slips into yours as you and your dog are taken to the ambulance. He asks the EMTs which hospital they’re taking you to before he kisses your temple and heads back into your house to clean up the mess he made. The deep scratches on your front door will have to wait, but he was nearly as upset as your dog when he got inside. Kojo whines at the door with his leash dragging behind him, but Tim says, “We have to wait. She’ll call when she’s ready.”

The moment you get discharged, you call Tim. He agrees to pick you up before you even ask, and he and Kojo are waiting for you in the lobby when you’re pushed out of the elevator in a wheelchair.

“You can still walk, right?” Tim checks.

“Yes,” you promise. “And I’ll need lots of walks to feel better.”

Tim frowns, and you rush to tell him that you’re teasing. You feel much better, thanks to him, and the doctors said he helped you properly and with plenty of time to spare.

“They think I should keep you around,” you add quietly.

“Kojo would happily become your second service dog,” Tim replies.

“Thank you, Tim,” you say as he helps you into his truck. “For everything.”

He nods once before closing the door, and you sit back to watch Kojo get comfortable beside your dog in the backseat. He would look cute in a service vest and booties.

After a few days of hourly check-in messages from Tim, you feel as good as new. You text Tim as you leave your house, and inhale deeply as you enjoy your first walk since your impromptu hospital visit. Your doctor scolded you for even trying to leave when you knew that you needed to act, but when she heard you talking to Tim, she understood why you put someone else before yourself. You’re not supposed to do that again, though, doctor’s orders.

“Hey,” Tim greets when you turn a corner.

“Hi,” you reply. “Care to join us for a walk?”

“We’d love to.”

As you walk side-by-side with Tim, you allow your arm to press against his and your hands to brush as you move along the sidewalk. You talk to Tim about his day, he asks about yours, and along the way, you lose track of time. When you notice the sun dipping below the horizon, you realize that it’s time to get home.

“I needed this, Tim. Thank you,” you tell him as your turn to return home.

“Let me walk you home,” he offers. “Kojo and I can’t let two lovely ladies walk home alone in the dark.”

“Well, thank you.” After a few steps, you remember that you never told Tim where you live. “How did you find me?” you ask.

“I didn’t. Kojo did. He’s obsessed with you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Kojo,” you tell him.

His tail wags faster at your attention, and you chuckle as Tim shakes his head. It seems like you reach your house much faster than usual, and it’s time to say goodbye to Tim and Kojo again.

“Would you like to go on a date?” Tim asks quickly as you stop by your door. “With the dogs?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Tim continues talking before you can.

“These walks are nice, but I’d like to try something more… if you’re willing,” he finishes.

You smile as you open your door. Leaning against it to keep it open, you say, “I’m willing. As long as the dogs are there.”

“Like they’d let us meet without them,” Tim scoffs.

“I’ll try not to have a medical emergency this time.”

“I’ll pick you up Friday night, around the same time as our walk?” Tim suggests.

“Sounds perfect. Goodnight, Tim, Kojo.”

“Goodnight,” Tim replies. As he turns to lead Kojo home, he says, “Say goodnight to our girls, Kojo.”

Our girls. You smile long after Tim leaves. If the walks impacted you this much, dating Tim will make spending time away from him and Kojo infinitely harder.

You text Tim before you fall asleep, looking forward to your first real date.

What happened to letting service dogs work?

Just before you drift off, you read Tim’s reply and your smile grows.

We’re her number 1 helpers. Besides, someone had to encourage you to take those walks your doc recommended.

A picture of Tim and Kojo accompanies the message, and suddenly, Friday seems an eternity away. You’ll just have to take as many walks as possible between now and then.

#tim bradford x reader #kojo bradford #hanna writes✯#tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests #kojo bradford. cutie pie extraordinaire.

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marvelstoriesepic · 1 month ago

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Whumpcember (day 5)

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: Concussion

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Reader gets concussed; worried!Bucky

Author’s note: This is my first fic for this year’s Whumpcember writing challenge. Hope you guys enjoy this! Thank you for the support after my October writing challenges that motivated me enough to do something like this again!! ♡

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

“Y/n, I’m serious. This is a bad idea.”

“Stop lecturing me, Nat, I’ve got this!”

“You’re two seconds away from breaking your neck. Not to mention ruining my night.”

“I am deeply flattered by your concern,” you tease, shooting her a sideways grin as you shift your weight on the ladder beneath your feet that groans faintly. “But you could have a little faith in me, you know.”

You tug another section of the Christmas lights in your hand loose, readying to hang them up. One foot wobbles slightly as you reach up and you balance yourself out on the uneven ground.

Natasha’s voice drops into that icy, lethal calm you’ve seen her use right before someone gets their ass handed to them. “Alright. If you don’t get your ass down that ladder in two seconds-”

You interrupt her with a huff, rolling your eyes as they stay focused on securing the lights. “Jokes on you, Romanoff - I’m probably the only person alive who isn’t scared of your threats.”

Natasha is leaning against the door to the balcony, arms crossed, her dark red hair catching the glow of the evening light. Her sharp eyes are locked on your form precariously balancing on the ladder.

She exhales sharply. Her brow quirks, but her jaw tightens. “You know, Barnes isn’t going to lose sleep if those lights don’t go up,” she states flatly, voice brimming with the no-nonsense tone you know all too well. “Actually, he won’t notice a damn thing. But what he will notice is you flat on your back in a hospital bed, wrapped in a cast because you couldn’t stay off a shaky ladder.”

She crosses her arms tighter and although she actually looks quite composed to you, you know she’s on edge. Her voice is firm.

You let out a frustrated huff, focusing on freeing another stubborn knot in the string. The December air makes your fingertips tingle. You shudder slightly at a harsh and cold gust of wind, swaying just a little to the left and gripping the balcony edge to steady yourself.

You twirl the string of lights dramatically, then carefully secure the next hook.

“Relax, Nat. I’ll be done before he gets back. And then all he’s going to notice are these beautiful lights-” you grunt while reaching higher “- shining on the balcony. After all, he’s always complaining it’s too dark out here. So, problem solved.”

Natasha uncrosses her arms and takes a step forward, settling her hands on her hips now. Her expression hardens. “Well, he sure as hell couldn’t have expected you to risk your neck by fixing it. Barnes could hang those lights without the ladder, Y/n. Honestly, the man would jump to do this for you.”

You glance down at her shortly, still stubborn and confident, and wave a dismissive hand as you reach to hook another section. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did it himself.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “A trip to the ER isn’t worth your little holiday moment, Y/n.”

“There won’t be a trip to the ER-”

The jingling of keys at the front door pulls you out of your banter with Natasha, stopping your comment from reaching its end. It startles you enough that your hand freezes mid-motion, the lights tangled loosely in your grip. Your heart skips a beat.

Bucky is home.

The realization hits you as your body reacts - a tiny, involuntary jerk that throws off your already unsteady stance. The ladder sways beneath you. You sharply shift your weight, searching for solid footing, but your foot lands on empty air instead of the rung you expected.

Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once.

The ladder teeters violently, and before you can even process what’s happening, gravity yanks you downward.

A split second of panic floods your chest. A startled shriek tears from your throat. The next thing you feel is the sharp and immediate pain blossoming at the back of your head, as it connects with the hard wall of your apartment. The impact sends stars bursting across your vision.

The world spins briefly, but before the ground can meet you, Natasha’s arms wrap around you, keeping you from crumpling onto the floor and perhaps landing wrong.

“Damn it, Y/n!” Natasha’s voice is almost harsh but she gently lowers you to the ground. Her face is close to yours, her green eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and concern.

“Y/n?”

The shout echoes from inside the apartment, strong and tinged with alarm.

Bucky’s voice barely reaches you through the throbbing in your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out everything except the pounding pain.

Your name comes again, louder this time, closer - close enough for the panic in his voice to reach your fuzzy mind. You wince.

The sound of hurried footsteps rings out against the floor. The balcony door flies open. Before you can get hold of what’s happening, Bucky is there.

He moves too quickly for your brain to fully process in your clouded state - one moment, he’s at the door across the room inside, and the next he’s crouched in front of you, his broad frame blocking out everything else.

His eyes rake over your face, your body, wide with worry. He’s scanning you like he’s trying to piece together exactly what happened.

“Y/n,” he says again, voice softer now, but not less urgent.

You can’t answer immediately. The pain in your head pulses severely, radiating outwards in waves. You wince as you reach back to touch the sore spot gingerly.

Bucky’s gaze darts upwards, undoubtedly looking at Natasha who is kneeling beside you, her arm steady around you. “What the hell happened?” he demands, voice dropping low.

“She fell off the damn ladder,” Natasha explains bluntly, nodding toward the object still standing behind you. “Hit her head on the wall on the way down. I caught her before it got worse.”

The pain flares again and you let out a soft groan.

Bucky’s jaw tightens and he looks like he’s holding back a string of curses. His hand moves, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that feels almost out of place given the tension radiating off of him.

“You hit your head?” he asks quietly, softly. So soft indeed it’s like your mind floats on a cloud. You might as well just let it reach the sky. His thumb grazes your temple, again so soft, careful not to press anywhere that might hurt. “Where does it hurt? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Back,” is all you manage. It sounds hoarse. It doesn’t sound like your voice and you’re surprised for a second, blinking confused.

Bucky’s hand is still on your face, his body right in front of you. The sharp and tense exhale that falls from his lips reaches your cheeks. His other hand clenches into a fist before he forces it to relax. His knuckles remain white.

“You shouldn’t even have been up there. What were you thinking, mhm?” he says, voice thick and tight, though there is a glimmer of guilt.

“Lights,” you croak, wincing, wildly gesturing with your hand to the halfway-secured Christmas lights above.

“Why didn’t you wait? Would’a done that for you, doll.”

“Surprise.”

“Tried telling her that. Stubborn as they would come.”

Natasha and you talk at the same time.

You tried glaring at her but it was a rather weak attempt and Bucky’s hand restricts possible motions with your head to meet her eyes.

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line and he shakes his head as if trying to push away his frustration. He shifts even closer, eyes intently focused on yours. You can’t look at him for long. “Y/n,” he instructs softly but firmly, “I need you to tell me if you feel dizzy or if your vision’s blurry. Anything feels wrong, you say it. Got it?”

You manage a weak nod, though the motion sends another twinge of pain through your skull. “My head is pounding, but… no dizziness.”

His shoulders relax just a fraction but his hand doesn’t leave your face and he doesn’t stop assessing you with his eyes. His thumb brushes along your cheek tenderly. “Okay. We’ll get you inside. Ice pack, and then straight to the ER. A doc should check you over.”

You open your mouth but Bucky anticipates your protest. “No arguing,” he scolds stiffly, though there is a pleading undertone that shuts you up.

“Called it,” Natasha remarks dryly, shooting you a chastising glance. A hint of a smirk tugs at her lips, though her tone remains all business.

Bucky doesn’t smile. He doesn’t so much as blink at her comment. His eyes stay locked on yours, and the worry etched into his features doesn’t ease a bit. His brow is pinched, furrowed so tightly, it’s almost painful to look at but that could also just be your aching head.

Bucky and Natasha help you inside and immediately catch you and hold you firmly to their sides when you stumble slightly. Natasha grabs an ice pack at Bucky’s command. She knows better than to argue with him when it comes to you.

So she lets him half carry you to his car while she slips to the kitchen and gets a pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. She hands it to Bucky without a word.

Once you’re in the passenger seat, Bucky crouches beside you in the open door, carefully pressing the pack to the back of your head. The chill bites at your skin, making you flinch just a little. You bring your hands up to hold it there yourself.

After making sure you’re okay with this position and sitting comfortably and no other pains have come up, he climbs into the driver's seat.

His intensity doesn’t waver.

His grip on the steering wheel is tighter than it has to be - just shy of crushing - and his jaw works as he grinds his teeth, the muscles in his neck and shoulders visibly taut. You imagine stretching out your hand to the back of his neck and massaging the tender skin there. You blink away the thought. Surprised it even came up.

Bucky glances at you every few seconds and you feel Natasha’s gaze on you as well from the backseat. The silence in the car is heavy.

It’s almost unbearable and you hate seeing Bucky this rigid. You’re afraid he’s mad at you.

“Buck, it’s just a bump-”

You don’t get to finish your reassurance. His head snaps in your direction, eyes flashing with something unreadable. “It’s not just a bump, doll,” he cuts in adamantly, but behind the steel in his tone, there is the softness that always accompanies his voice when he talks to you. “You hit your head hard enough to almost black out for a second. That’s not something to shrug off.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the shake of Natasha’s head catches your peripheral vision and you drop it.

“Should have waited for you. M’ sorry,” you say silently, hands still holding that ice pack to your head.

Bucky lets out a long drawn sigh. Heavy. A hand moves over his face. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Can’t scare me like that, sweetheart. You hear me? I'll take care of those lights, yeah? You stay away from that ladder. Don’t wanna see you up there again.”

His tone is soothing. The gravel of his words again softened but the worry he carried since he found you concussed on the floor of your little balcony is still going strong. His hand - a little hesitantly - moves to rest on your thigh, his thumb swiping over the fabric of your trousers. The motion makes your heart stutter.

Your head feels foggy, like you’re floating just out of sync with the world. A faint, dumbly smile tugs at your lips, the pain in your scull muted for a moment by the softness in his eyes. You blink slowly, words tumbling out before you can think clearly about how you phrase your sentences to make them have a purpose.

“Wanted to surprise you,” you mumble, voice slightly slurred. Your head is spinning. Your words come slow. “You always say it’s too dark out there. And they are Christmasy. The lights. S’ nice.”

There is silence for a beat beat but then Bucky lets out a tiny huff of laughter. It’s more like a released breath but it makes your cheeks flush and your heart pick up all the same. You’re grinning again. You love the sound of his laugh. It’s the last thing you want to hear right before you die. It’s the only thing you want to hear for the rest of your life.

You blink again. Damn, your head really is messed up a little.

Bucky shakes his head slightly. He sighs again, deeply. A little strained. “That's sweet, Y/n,” he murmurs and he holds your eyes a moment longer. They are glinting with something. There is definitely fondness there but also something deeper. “And the lights look real nice, doll, but-”

“See?” you interrupt and throw a triumphant grin back at Natasha.

That earns you a full-fledged glare.

You turn back around.

“Still,” his voice drops again, returning solemn just like his expression as he looks back at the road ahead. “No surprises for a while, yeah? Let me handle things like that.”

There is a slight crack in his voice.

You blink at him again, trying to focus, but your muddled brain and the amount of his concern make it hard to form a coherent response. You only nod faintly. Thankfully, your head doesn’t hurt as bad at the movement anymore.

You might also imagine the knowing smirk pulling at Natasha’s lips in the backseat. She’s awfully silent behind you, eyes flicking between you and Bucky with a smugness in her expression. You pinch your brows together and try to figure out what this is about but your mind can’t seem to comprehend much at the moment.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand settles on your cheek. A thumb swipes over your skin. Warm. So warm.

“You still with me?”

His voice is soft. So soft.

“Yeah,” you mutter, the faintest smile tugging at your lips again.

Bucky’s hand makes sure the ice pack is still firmly pressed to the back of your head, every ounce of his focus split between the road and you.

Natasha keeps smirking.

#whumpcember24 #whumpcember2024 #Whumpcember day5 #whump writing #whump prompt #marvel bucky barnes #marvel mcu #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #roommate!bucky

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knight-dwx-09 · 2 months ago

Text

Hiding (Not Really) From Them

Jaune cleave a Beowolf in half with a great sword that wasn’t a Croceo Mors. As the last Grimm evaporates, he let his eyes roamed a bit to search for any Grimm left in the area.

Jaune: Okay, that should be the last one of them. Now, I just need to back to the village to report the situation and grab my payment.

He sheathed his sword into the scabbard on his waist.

Jaune: I should wait for her to call me before I leave, today is Friday so it will be any second now.

Right on cue, his scroll began to rings, causing him to smiled brightly as he pick it up to reveal smiling Neo on the screen.

Jaune: Hello Neo!

Neo: *Waving*

Jaune: So, where are you now?

Neo: Atlas

She speaks thanks to the device on her neck that try to predict what she want to say into text-to-speak. It’s not perfect but it’s still good enough to communicate without hand gestured or typing on a scroll.

Jaune: Cool, no pun intended, any luck on stealing from the criminals and finding the information for other artifact?

Neo: Couple stupid idiots, one even use just one password and one pin for all of his money and secret document. As for the latter, none. You?

Jaune: Same, just a couple of Grimm and protecting Villages, haven’t see much from Salem’s cult as well. Seems like they went into hiding after I destroyed a lot of their camp.

Neo: And you aren’t being too hard on yourself, right?

Jaune: They weren’t much to exert me that far. I don’t even have to rely on Lyssa to fight them.

Lyssa: *Speak in Jaune’s mind* Damn right you are, these weakling are even worthy for master’s skills, let alone to withstand against my power! And worry not Neo, I ensure you that I will keep tabs on master’s health and force him to get enough sleep and nutrients!

Jaune let out a deep chuckle as he pat the sword on his back, which was wrapped in a bandage.

Jaune: And Lyssa told me she’s going to protect me and make sure I don’t slip back into my old habits. So, really, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.

Neo: That’s good to know, because I promised if I ever saw or know that you are awake late in night, swinging your sword like a madman, I WILL go to your current location and suffocate you in my thighs or tits, pick your funeral.

Jaune: *Chuckle nervously* You make it sound like it was a threat.

Neo: Because it is.

Jaune: I will keep that in mind.

Neo: … I know this isn’t something for me to say nor that I really care, but shouldn’t you visit your friends by now? It’s been 6 months since you last saw them in the hospital.

Jaune: Believe me, I have been dying to do so. But you know, somehow, all of the mission I saw and get was in Vacuo or a remote area, and once every a blue moon that I have a mission in Atlas or Vale or Menagerie, my friends weren’t there. Just my rotten luck. Besides, they need rest after the war and I don’t think my absent will affect them that badly.

———

Yang: *Red Eyes and blazing hair* If I finally captured that bastard, I will make him have second thought about abandoning all of us ever again! Stupid Vomit boy, making all of us, including my sweet little sister, cry our eyes out!

Blake: I know I don’t have any right to judge him but I will help you on that, I will bring the handcuff and leash so we could tied him with us forever so he won’t be able to run away.

———

Jaune: Heck, I am sure they are really busy with their new life to even think about me. With Dust in the world become even more rarer after the final fight, Weiss is trying to find another source of resource to replace Dust while fix her family legacy. You even say that Ruby is helping out Weiss while keeping Atlas save. And that is a lot of work!

———

Ruby: I miss my Best friend, Weiss, I miss him so much. *munching on a cookies while snuggling with Weiss*

Weiss: I also miss him… *Whisper* Where are you my Knight… your princess is waiting for you to come back… *eating blueberry frozen yogurt*

———

Jaune: And I heard Kuroyuri are being rebuild! I am so proud of Ren and Nora, they could finally settled down and have a family. I do pray for Ren’s pelvis, I remember that Nora wanting to beat my family scored of 8 children.

———

Both Nora and Ren could be seen in Mistral, handing out papers with smiling Jaune when he still has the banana hair and written missing under it.

Nora: Have you seen our golden retriever son? I miss him so much! *Large tears running down her face*

Ren: Our boy have run away from us, we aren’t ready to let him go just yet. Is it because I yelled at him when we try to get Oscar back? I am sorry my boy for being too hard at you. *Lamented with black cloud over his head*

———

Jaune: *Shrugged* I am sure they are doing just fine

Neo: *rolled her eyes* And when are you gonna tell them about our relationship?

Jaune: When my jobs are near them. I just wish our scroll were destroyed in the last fight, I don’t even have their number to call them anymore.

Neo: Well, I just hope they would accept us being a thing, not that I care about their opinion on us.

Jaune: *Chuckled* I am sure they are already warm up to you, including you to them.

Neo flip the bird which cause him to laugh even harder.

Jaune: Anyway, I should get going now. I don’t want to worried the villagers with me being gone for a while now. Nice meeting with you, I will call you next week again, Neo.

Neo: *Looked down in sadness* I really miss you… I wish we could have gone together…

Jaune: …Me too… I also wish you could be my side… so I could talk together everyday and hug you all I want… and kiss you all day… but you already know why we separate for now, we have role to fulfill.

Neo: I know… it just suck that you aren’t there when I woke up in the cold, lonely bed, greeting me with that dopey, kind smile of yours to warm my day up.

Jaune: Well… maybe we can arrange something so we could spent a week together in the future

Neo: *Look up with a logging in her eyes and smiled* I would love that.

Suddenly, he can hear an alarm flared up on the other side of the call.

Neo: Well, it seems like they finally noticed their money is missing. They really should use it to upgrade their brain, I am surprised they managed to go this far with it.

Jaune: Neo, what did I say about calling me in the middle of a heist?

Neo: Please, as if you have the right to say that, ‘Mister-who-call-me-even-in-the-middle-of-hoard-of-Grimm’.

Jaune: *Sigh* Fine, just be careful.

Neo: Who do you think I am? *Smirking smugly*

Jaune: Well, that’s it for this week. Don’t forget, it will be your turn next.

Neo: *Rolled eyes* I know, just make sure you remember this number.

Jaune: I won’t, love you dear.

Neo: Love you too. Also, Lyssa, take care of our reckless partner and don’t let him jump into danger.

The sword of destruction began to shine as a small girl appeared on its place and grab hold on Jaune like a Koala, head peaking out so Neo could see her.

Lyssa: Don’t worry, this foolish master of my will not endanger his life as long as I am still by his side.

Neo: That’s good to know… see ya next week.

With the call ended, he gripped his scroll until it shattered under his hand.

Jaune: Well, are you ready for our next mission, Partner?

Lyssa: I want to sweet chocolate cake first! It has been a week since I had one and I believe I deserve one.

Jaune: *Chuckled* Okay, lets ask the chief if the place had any bakery or a cafe.

With that, the wandering knight set forth on his journey even after the war ended 6 months ago, leaving (Not Really) his friends behind as every single one of them have something in mind which they are gonna do to the knight if they find him, if, since it seem like Fate or Gods itself have another thing in mind for him and have taken a liking at his funny story unfolding. But we will see what the future’s hold for them.

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persevereforahappyending · 6 months ago

Text

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did.

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.”

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe.

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have.

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.”

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was.

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity.

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back.

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.”

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town.

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you.

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door.

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister.

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life.

“We’re not looking for an interview.”

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.”

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth.

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now.

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter.

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her.

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie.

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.”

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business.

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking.

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?”

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious.

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.”

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning.

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.”

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?”

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.”

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer.

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?”

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else.

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.”

“Then look for the killer there.”

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you.

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be.

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle.

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.”

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them.

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help.

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car.

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense.

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s.

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them.

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door.

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years.

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to.

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get.

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him.

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm.

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?”

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you.

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.”

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.”

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam.

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened.

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends.

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well.

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?”

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?”

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.”

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense.

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.”

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.”

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked.

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.”

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.”

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask.

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.”

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about.

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?”

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.”

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.”

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful.

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation.

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror.

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked.

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.”

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far.

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory.

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again.

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant.

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage.

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening.

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important.

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.”

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been.

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter.

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed.

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back.

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks.

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation.

“Who?” Sam asked. She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you.

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged.

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.”

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled.

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor.

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.”

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love.

“Maybe you’re threatened.”

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.”

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you.

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her.

“What could you possibly offer her?”

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other.

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?”

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you.

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you.

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye.

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well.

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside.

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked.

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled.

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was.

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room.

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned.

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.”

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck.

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him.

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers.

“How do you know that?”

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both.

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms.

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame.

“You tracked my-are you insane?”

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time.

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked.

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?”

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.”

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.”

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear.

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie.

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.”

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes.

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered.

“What is it?” Dewey asked.

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer.

“What? What’s going on?”

“We need to go.”

“What? Where?”

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.”

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret #sam carpenter

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denwritesandcries · 10 months ago

Text

Hug me Tighter – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

Note: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #scream x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #wlw #denwrites

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mayoonn · 10 months ago

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heyya! i saw u needing some1 to request so here i am 😈 imagine maki (from jjk) is from a family thats known for their alpha genes (yes. a/b/o universe.) and shes engaged with m!reader whom she thought is a female omega due to his pretty face + mid length hair. she couldnt do anything but froze infront of m!reader bcs she thinks that an angel has fallen (cheesy, i know.) but no, its not a fallen angel. ts a human being. maki is rough at reader first but cant help being smitten to reader liek shes ready to give the whole world for him. also could u add smut innit? any kinks r welcome ;) and and make maki a softdomtop!!!!@ im such a sucker for maki ong 😩 ANYWAYS have a great weekend :]]

Thank you, dear! Maki is so.. hfgghh ♡♡

I apologize if it's very late and if this story was a little rushed or doesn't make sense, I was in the hospital with my mom.. Don't worry, she is very well! She just had surgery (I'm suck at writing smut ಥ_ಥ)

(Male reader!!, smitten omega! reader, subbttm! reader, alpha! Maki, softdom! Maki, Maki has cock, reader has pussy and cock, feminization, nipple play, frottage, rough to soft vanilla sex)

Being an omega is a curse and a blessing for you at the same time, from getting special treatment to getting treated like a slut or an object sometimes. It was 0 to 100 real quick, you have to meet the right person or in this case, the right alpha. You were glad your parents weren't like those abusive or narcissistic as other Omegas are experienced before. You actually have a very decent and normal life, your parents taught you well especially about the alphas.

You believe that not all alphas are that horrible but often, you heard or even saw with your own eyes that you actually questioned yourself whether you should even mate with one. You are an independent, one truly rare to see in omegas so it's really a choice to have a mate. Your parents were worried that you'll end up alone all your life so they offered to set up an arrangement of alphas as your potential mate.

At first you were reluctant, you were afraid about your parents taste in alphas. Not that they had terrible taste, you were scared of what kind of alphas they are. You know how they can be but thinking of being alone for the rest of your life sounds depressing. You agreed nonetheless and your parents were very delighted. They were so excited that you were sure they already made a list..

For the first few dates, they were terrible. Just as you expected, one even sent death threats just because you weren't interested in.. "Open relationship". You frustratedly sighed when most of them were talking about themselves. Well at least you dodged big bullets there, you knew you'll regret when you mate one of them. Your mother comforts you, giving you hope to find a suitable mate while your father arranged your dates.

You were starting to give up until your father came in the room, running as he looked very very excited. You were skeptical, raising your brow at him and crossing your arm. You hoped it would be great news or you might as well give up on this whole mate thing. " well, you don't believe it but Maki Zenin accepted our arrangements! " your father exclaimed as both of you and your mother were shocked to hear this news.

Your face was flushed red as your mother hugged you, celebrating as if you actually achieved something. Well you did, Maki Zenin was a powerful woman and also her family was known for their alpha genes. You actually have a crush on Maki since forever, you didn't think this would've happened to you but it did. You have seen her fights, you even heard that she's actually very respectful and such a gentleman!!

If you could, you would be squealing right now like a high school girl getting love notes from her crush. Your father had told you the arrangement, usually date in the same restaurant as always on tomorrow night. You had to stay calm in front of your parents, you didn't want to look so excited when in the past, you repeatedly told them you don't even need or want a mate. It would be embarrassing, you went to your room and got your outfit ready. You even practiced in front of your mirror, you also don't want to be a stuttering mess in front of her, Maki Zenin! You pray that it'll end up well and you are happily married together and forever! ♡

Okay, maybe you were a bit delusional there.. The next day, you were waiting in the restaurant. You came way too early, you kept checking your hair and your attire. You actually did your best as much as you can, you want to impress her so hard.

➶➶➶➶➶٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭٭➷➷➷➷➷

After months of courting her, you were both engaged and it was actually going pretty well. The first date, Maki thought you were a female omega with how much you actually cleaned yourself very well. She was flustered when you confronted her that you were a male but hey, she really hit the jackpot there. The way you talk with your soft tone, your eyes fluttering at her, your attire almost seen as an angel that has fallen from heaven. It's cheesy, she knows but she can't help but flirt with you. Your blush compliments your skin so much

That night, after your wedding and on your first honeymoon night was the night you lost your virginity to her. She was glad and appreciated that you waited for her for a long time and she won't hold back. You weren't surprised that she manhandled you so much, it actually turned you on. You were both naked on the bed as she said in hushed words in your ear while she prepared your pussy and stroking your cock. She kept edging you, fingering your hole so fast then slowing down when you were so so so close to cumming.

"Aww, I'm sorry baby but I want you to cum on my cock. Hmm, so sweet, " she smirked as you arched your back in pleasure, your hand gripping on her hand while the other was holding her other hand. It was romantic to you, you thought it was because even though she's so mean and being so rough on your pussy but she is actually so sweet. You tighten your grip as you moan louder, begging for release. Then she stopped and slowly pulled out her fingers from your gaping hole, you huff and pant as tears swelled in your eyes. Your cock twitching so hard, it was painful to hold it in but anything for your lover.

Your hole is gaping as if it was calling for her, you let go of her wrist and wrapped your arm around her neck. Your lips hovering hers as you slowly leaned and kissed. Maki traced her hands on your body, slowly from your chest then on your curves. She gripped your waist and started to devour your neck, marking and biting that it'll leave bruises. You were sure that it won't fade for weeks, you love how possessive she can get.

"Ahh~.. M-maki, please~..," you don't know why you begged for but you really need her. You feel like your body is heating up like a scorching fire. Maki hummed while she gently bit your nipples, playing with your chest. You lightly moaned and your brows furrowed, both of your naked bodies were sweating like crazy. "Baby boy~ be patient, I'll be gentle with you, " she chuckled as she gripped your thighs and pushed up, rubbing her cock to your hole. Your legs twitch every time her cock rubbed your entrance, the head of her cock threatened to push inside. You whimpered and pleaded as you buck your hips but Maki gripped on your thighs.

Your hands gripped onto the blanket behind you as you watched her cock sliding onto your pussy until she finally pushed it in. You arched your back and your eyes widened, your hole clamping on her cock. "Relax baby~ shh.. Shh, relax," she grunt while she rubbed your hips. Your eyes shut, your knuckles became white and slowly getting used to her size. It was bigger and more painful than you expected your first time to be.

After a few minutes of staying still, Maki slowly thrust her cock. You moaned, wrapping your hands around her neck again and nuzzled your head to her neck. Your feverishly moan and gasped were clearly heard from her ear, she grunt as she started to thrust hard. The slaps and your girlish moans can be heard from outside the room, your legs twitch while her cock drilling your inside as if she was rearranged your guts.

You squealed and moaned, bed creaking from how hard she thrust. Maki holds your hand as she whispers sweet nothing in your ear. She growled and soon your release came, the Milly and sticky white substance covered both your stomach and hers. Maki thrust harder than before and you mewled, pleading for her cum as your eyes rolled to the back. Not too long after your orgasm, she came inside. You gasped, feeling your womb were filled and you were pretty sure that your stomach bulged out a bit. Maki lay down on top of you, her cock still inside as she kissed the hickeys she gave in your neck. You grunt when she pulled out, her cum oozing out of your hole and you were too tired to do anything.

She went to the bathroom and came back with a wet rag and water for you, she helps you sit up and clean your body. She kissed your shoulder over and over again as you hummed, this was the best night you will not forget ♡

#bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #trans male reader #thanks anon!#anon!#alpha/omega #maki zenin #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk maki #female x reader #female x male reader #this is hot #alpha maki #omega reader #omega male reader

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honeybeedrabble · 1 year ago

Text

Dangerous Desires (ix) - Home Coming

CW: spanking/brat taming, hair pulling, biting, licking, breast play, marking, unprotected piv (dont be stupid), rough sex, slight fingering, degradation, choking, cream-pie (DONT BE STUPID), probs some shit editing, LMK what i missed !!

word count: 10K 💀💀

18+ MDNI !!!!!

You stood in front of the hokage, heart beating out of your chest. You were nervous, that much was obvious. However you couldn’t wrap your head around why you were summoned. Lady Tsunade finished writing her last few words into her notes, stapling them together and setting them aside to address you.

“You must be wondering why I’ve sent for you,” she started, sitting up in her seat. Her face was somber.

“I can’t say you’re wrong.”

“What I’m about to tell you is something only a very select few know about.” Tsunade started, hands clasped together on the desk. “We’re about to go to war.”

You were shocked- was Kakashi really telling the truth?! Was he right all along?! Your emotions were everywhere and it was evident on your face.

“I know, I know it’s a lot to take in. I myself am not sure if I’ve taken it in yet.” She seemed stressed, you could see the worry behind her soft brown eyes.

“Lady Tsunade… who are we at war with?”

“My dear who aren’t we at war with?” She sadly laughed to herself. “Truth be told we’re fighting against a greater force than we know. I hate to say this but we’re looking at a fourth great ninja war.“ Your eyes widened, body filled with anxiety.

“A fourth great war? Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as death. In fact, there’s going to be a five kage summit soon and I’ll need to attend to talk about said war.”

“So… The war isn’t with the other nations? I mean… if there’s going to be a summit with all five nations, doesn’t that mean neither is the threat?” You asked, still confused.

“Exactly.”

“Then who’s the threat?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Then why have I been summoned Lady Tsunade? If you can’t tell me who the enemy is tell me what I’m here for.” You were starting to get angry, worried for what you’d been told previously.

“You need to fight in this war.” Tsunade said plainly. “With medical jutsu like yours we would be idiots not to use you. I’m telling you now that we’re not asking you to enlist, but rather we are drafting.” Kakashi was right.

You couldn’t believe him, it was impossible to. How could this be happening? It wasn’t long since you’ve been here and already you’re being drafted in the war. It was exactly how Kakashi had told you, no denying it. This is your job, what you were sent to do, the only thing you know how to do, so damn right you’re going to use your blessing to help all you can.

“I’m well aware of my capabilities my lady, and in fact I find it a great honor to be drafted by you personally.”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would, I must thank you for that.” She sighed a relieved breath, hand clutching her chest.

“I have no other choice but to. This is what I signed up for when moving to Konoha. I decided the day I learned my first medical justu I would help the world become a better place. If you hadn’t drafted me I would’ve signed up myself. It’s my duty, this is my home.” Your words moved Tsunade, she smiled softly at you. Her face dropped suddenly.

“I’m glad you believe that, and I’m glad to have someone like you be so ready for whatever is to come, really I am. But because you’re going to be in the war I need to to preserve your chakra. Because of this, I forbid you from working at the hospital.” She looked away from you, knowing she didn’t want to see the determination wash away from your face in real time.

“Are you… are you firing me?”

“I’m afraid so. I cant have you waste any of your precious chakra on a few sick patients when we are going to have armies full of injured shinobi on the front lines. We have enough medical personnel at the hospital already, so with you being as high ranked as you are we must save you for the battlefield. You understand don’t you?”

“Lady Tsunade what more do I have other than my job? How long will it be until we are in war? I-I can’t be out of work that long.”

“I’m sorry but my hands are tied.” Her voice was almost as sad as yours, she worriedly watched as your eyes started to well with tears.

“Please my lady. Don’t do this to me.” She got up from her desk and walked over to you, hugging you tightly against her.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise. I just need you to rest up. We’ll be destroyed without you, please just trust me.” You hugged eachother until you could calm down, you wiped any tears that fell and stepped aside.

“Lady Tsunade I have a request to make.”

“What is it dear?”

“I want to go home. Back to my village and see my parents one last time before I go to war. I think it’s only reasonable to see them one last time, as me coming home alive and well is uncertain.” Tsunade stepped back and looked at you, a hand draped softly on your shoulder.

“I accept the request. How long will you be gone?”

“Probably under a week.”

“Then so be it. You’re dismissed.”

You walked out of the office and back home with an intense sadness inside of you. You gave up on Kakashi because you loved your job. Now your job has been stolen from you and it was all for nothing. Everything that had given you value- that had given you purpose- is now gone. You wondered if you should even return home or not.

You decided it would be a good idea if you told your friends Machi and Gale you’d be gone for the next few days, back at home until you decided you needed to come back. They understood and wished you well on your journey.

Kakashi was a mess, thinking about how poorly he treated you during your sexcapade, saying he hated you and fucking you so roughly he wasn’t sure if he had hurt you or not. Who care if he did? You hurt him worse. You hurt him in a way nobody else has. How could you treat him like he was somebody only to leave him like he was nothing? At least, that’s how he saw it.

Business at The Poison Sandwich was slow today, maybe the sadness was in the air. Kakashi ate his BLT, thoughts of you racing through his head. Even up until he heard your name uttered by the two girls you held dearly as friends.

“So she went back home.” Gale said to the cook behind the counter.

“I’ve been thinking about visiting a few of the sandwich shops in her village for a while now actually.” Percy smiled from behind the counter.

“Wait… she went back?” Kakashi interrupted, unsure if he heard right.

“Yeah, yesterday. Said she’s be back in a few days.” Machi said, looking over at Percy. “He said he was going to go the her village pretty soon to try out the food there.”

“Is this true Percy?” Kakashi asked his friend, who nodded as he discarded his white apron.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come?” Kakashi asked, cursing himself. What was he thinking?

“Well as long as you don’t have any other plans for the rest of the day, I see no problem. I’m heading off now, so get ready.” Percy said, untying his apron and tossing it on a nearby countertop. “Ladies, you don’t mind closing shop for me, do you?”

And of course, as enamored with the man as they were, had zero issue and took care of business as he and Kakashi took off.

_____________

Kakashi was shocked to see the strange motorized bike that Percy had built, looking it up and down in shock and awe at the mechanism.

“What is this, if I may ask?”

“Well I’m not a shinobi like you so getting around to long distances isn’t easy for me. I built this myself as a way to make the trips easier.” Percy said, tossing Kakashi a black helmet. Kakashi caught it and reluctantly adorned it, his silver hair peeking out from underneath.

As Percy started the machine Kakashi sat in the back behind him, pondering why he had felt the need for such an impromptu visit to your hometown. He didn’t know why he felt this way, especially after the way you had treated him. Once again he felt alone, abandoned by your heartlessness and eager mindset to go fight off in a war that he felt would mame and kill you the second you had your back turned to the enemy.

“Kakashi… what’s been going on with you?” Percy asked, snapping Kakashi out of the trance he found himself in.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, puzzled at his friends sudden questioning.

“Listen... Gale, Machi, and I all know about your secret affair. And we don’t care- we support it honestly. But ever since you two have had a falling out… we’ve noticed a change.” Percy’s voice was somber as he drove throughout the thick forest, focused on the destination while his heart was stuck in the conversation. Kakashi was silent a moment, his mind was racing. Was it safe to tell his friend the truth? To let the secrets of his beloved lay out in front of someone who was only watching from the outside?

“I’m not sure I understand,” he replied monotoned. His outside demeanor was cool, but anyone who really knew what was going on inside his mind could tell the intricacies of his tone, picking up the way his voice would lilt anxiously as he declared this inquiry.

“Well I’m sure you do, so don’t play dumb with me Hatake,” Percy snapped, he wasn’t playing games- Kakashi was sure of this now.

“Well what do you want me to tell you? Sometimes people don’t work out the way they meant to, we don’t have control over these things. All you need to know is that me and her are… we’re complicated.”

“Bullshit.” Kakashi was taken aback.

“What are you talking about?” The wind was blowing through his hair, headband threatening to blow off his eye. He held it tight, looking at his thighs for avoidance.

“I’m talking about your seriously psychotic desire for control. You’ve wanted her from the moment you met her, haven’t you?” Percy asked, revving the engine of his bike.

“More than anything…” Kakashi admitted, vision still remained on his thighs.

“And ever since then, what have you done?”

Kakashi thought about it for a moment. What had he done? He had fucked you on his desk, broken into your home and stolen your underwear, touched you while you slept, fucked you at work, fucked you on missions- gods... the list could only go on.

“I’ve done all I could.” He clutched his fists, hating how horribly his stomach churned. “And yet it still wasn’t enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that my love for her has consumed me, my body, brain, and soul. She’s all I think about- ever. She’s everything, and everywhere. No matter what time of day or night, I can feel her down to the very air I breathe. I’ve tried for what has felt like forever to have her all to myself.”

“Why all to yourself?”

“Because the thought of her with anyone else makes me violent,” Kakashi said, regretting his words the very moment they spilled past his lips.

Percy remained quiet, Kakashi wasn’t sure if it was so he could talk more or not. He stayed silent for a while too. He wondered wether Percy was judging him, then again he didn’t care too much, it wasn’t him who was worried about public appearances.

“Sometimes I can feel my blood boil when I see another man talking to her. She makes me feel at peace, not just in my mind but in my soul. I love that woman down to the marrow in my bones and to think that some other man could see her and only see her for her beauty, only see her for something to use makes me sick. I can practically feel the bile in my throat just thinking about it.”

“So she makes you feel calm?” Percy didn’t seem to be turned off by the way Kakashi spoke of you, it was as if they were having a conversation so casual it was comparable to one about the weather.

“It’s beyond that,” Kakashi felt his heart flutter as he thought of you, his mind running with excitement just at the opportunity to talk about you.

“Sometimes I think about my past and all the people who have left me. Some of them chose to, some of them didn’t. Regardless, whenever I’d get attached to someone they’d leave, I didn’t have any control over it. Maybe it was because I was weak, or too young to have any real say in the matter. But now it’s different. I’m stronger and I’m older, no matter how you look at it I’m ten times the person I was all those years ago.” Percy remained silent, listening intently to his friend. Something he wouldn’t do to much of as Kakashi wasn’t the type to open up easily.

“When I met her, I knew instantly I loved her. It was a fact just as true as the sky is blue. I don’t think about all the horrible things from my youth whenever she’s around, not when all I can think about is the possibility of my old age spent with this wonderful woman. And the only way to have a future with her is if she doesn’t leave. I’ve grown beyond a simple lust for her, I've realized I can’t escape these feelings. I learned about her past, her favorite flowers and I’ve showered her in as much affection I can show without being too much. I’m sure I’ve crossed that boundary already but I can’t help it, I have too much inside to not let go of.”

“So you want something serious with her?”

“Yes.”

“Why call it quits now? After everything you’ve gone through, why give up?”

“Because she’s going to leave me,” He ran a hand through his silver hair, holding back a tear that was heard through the slight crack in his voice.

“She told you she doesn’t want to be together anymore?” Percy asked, wondering if what his girlfriends told him about you was true or not. He remembered hearing how you liked Kakashi too, but was afraid of ridicule, yet still craved his love beneath it all.

“She wants to fight in a possible deadly battle. I cant disclose much but that’s all I can say.”

“But she’s strong isn’t she? Plus she’s a medic, so wouldn’t she be able to heal herself if anything happened?” Percy asked, unsure about the severity of this “battle”.

“You don’t get it,” Kakashi sighed, leaning his forehead against Percy’s back. “I can keep her through affection and intimacy, that’s one thing we both know we have for each other, it’s apparent. But I can’t keep her from getting herself killed. Death is around every corner for people like me and her.”

“Shinobi, you mean?”

“Exactly. I don’t want to be in love with someone and yearn for them every second we aren’t together just for them to leave and die. It’s not fair to torture myself like that. I’d rather call it quits early before I’m doomed to live a life of suffering. I couldn’t deal with it.”

“Kakashi, you already are.” Percy didn’t care to tiptoe around the fact, he was tired of all the beating around the bush. Kakashi sat there a moment, his head still resting against his friends back.

He closed his eyes, occasionally catching himself to hold onto the bike better as they jostled over small rocks and bumps along their path. Kakashi didn’t have much to say about that, but it did prompt a lot of thinking, not that he could do much with Percy being such a chatterbox.

“You need to hear me out with this, okay? Love is like a sandwich-“

“Good gods, spare me the metaphors…”

“I’m going somewhere with this trust me!!” Percy yelled defensively, his volume mostly washed out by the breeze blowing by. “You can have all the amazing fillings you want: intimacy, shared experiences, passion, romance, all that is great but without the bread that keeps it together it’s just a bunch of things slopped together. What makes a sandwich a sandwich is the bread that keeps it together- a solid foundation, trust. And sure, it’s going to be messy at times, but that just comes with that delicious journey we all sign up for.”

“Is there a point to this analogy?”

“Obviously, dumbass. You have all the makings for a great relationship except for the bread… the trust. The bread you’ve got is thin- real thin. Meaning it’s not able to keep all that great stuff inside. The only way that meals gonna end is with everything falling out. Do you know why your bread is thin?” Percy asked, dodging a large rock in the middle of the path.

“Because of my insecurities…” Kakashi admitted, his face heating up.

“Bingo.”

He sat with this realization, mostly because he was metaphorically eaten up alive by one of his best friends. That aside, he looked at the bigger picture. Was he really that insecure about his trust in you? He knew you were strong, but was he actually just insecure you would rather die than be with him?! Was he really that codependent on you? That wasn’t possible, not with war being such a great threat. Percy didn’t know that though, so that’s another thing to factor in. Regardless, there still was valid food for thought presented to him.

“Well how far away are we now?” Kakashi asked, looking around at the new environment.

“Wont take longer than a few minutes, bud. Relax, we’ll be there in no time.”

___________________

Percy was right of course, only a few minutes later and the two were parked outside the large wooden gates. Sounds of children’s laughter and music could be heard just beyond, as well as the smell of amazing food clouding their senses. Kakashi and Percy walked in, delighted by all the new sights and sounds, it seemed like a festival was taking place, although they had zero clue what it was for.

While it did seem magical at first glance, Kakashi knew the truth behind this villages facade. When he truly looked around beyond the vibrant colors and fun attractions, he saw very sick people lurking around the streets, some even begging for spare money. He sighed to himself, judging all the men who walked by with their expensive robes who were laughing at the sick and elderly.

“Kakashi! Over here!” Percy called to him from beyond the crowd.

Kakashi looked over to where his friend was and saw a small shop next to some sort of brothel-esque building. He tilted his head in curiosity at him, raising both arms in a shrugging position.

“No- come over here! This is the place I came here for!” Percy called louder, holding open the shops door to signal he was about to enter.

Kakashi jogged over there, still overwhelmed by all the excitement going around. When he caught up with Percy, he suddenly felt something very familiar. It was that calmness in his soul he had described to Percy earlier. He spun around, trying to see what it was and if he could follow it.

“Something the matter?” Percy asked, shutting the door.

Kakashi turned his head and saw a small staircase on the outside of the establishment that led to a second story door. He furrowed his brow looking at the door, feeling a strange calling towards whatever was just beyond it.

“No… I guess it’s nothing.” He said, turning towards Percy as he opened the door and walked inside.

It was a small restaurant, a few tables here and there as well as a large island that a middle aged man stood at.

“Hi, welcome in fellas! Take a seat anywhere you want, I’ll get you both a few menus to look at!” He said cheerily, ducking behind the island to grab two menus.

Percy sat at the island in front of the man, Kakashi followed and took the seat next to him. The older man gave them their menus and went in the back to give them some time.

“Are you hungry at all?” Percy asked, skimming the drinks side.

“I could eat,” Kakahi responded, suddenly craving a sandwich more than anything.

There were quite a few options to choose from. Some vegan options, some vegetarian, and some sort of dessert types with various different fruits, custards, and cream fillings. Kakashi was in the mood for something more traditional and hearty, deciding he would ask for a grilled chicken sandwich.

The man reappeared with a small notepad and pen, leaning against the countertop.

“You two ready to order?” He asked, looking at Kakashi first.

“Yeah, may I please have the grilled chicken sandwich?” He asked, pointing to the menu. The man wrote it down and then asked for Percy’s order.

“I’ll have this breakfast sandwich,” Percy said.

“A little late don’t you think?” The man laughed, taking both menus.

“Well you know… breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Why not have it anytime of day?” Percy laughed. The man furrowed a brow and Percy grimaced, embarrassed by his joke falling flat.

Kakashi couldn’t help but feel that comforting aura getting stronger around him. He looked around, maybe it was the environment? Just then it became much stronger, as if all this muscles had relaxed in just that moment. It felt less like an aura and more like a chakra. He quickly looked behind the man and towards the curtains that led to the back. What he saw he couldn’t believe.

You emerged from beyond the curtains, holding two cups of water in your hands. When you looked up you immediately locked eyes with him. You must’ve felt the same muscle relaxation as Kakashi, you suddenly dropped both cups catching the eyes of the room.

“Kakashi…?”

_________________________________

You had arrived to this hometown of yours not too long after you left Konoha. You watched as children ran around happily through the village with their prizes from games going on throughout the streets. You sighed, walking down the paths of the place you once called home, knowing the happiest of people were just tourists in this living hell your family and community was trapped in.

You approached your families restaurant, smiling at the nostalgic feeling it filled you with. You grabbed the handle and walked in, your father standing just behind the island. He called you name excitedly, rushing over to you to hold you in a tight hug.

“You’ve come home! What are you doing here? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?” He teased, letting you go to get a good look at you. You nervously laughed.

“No, it’s not that.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Well whatever the reason is, it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Um… can I talk to you upstairs for a moment? There’s something I need to tell you… it has to do with me being here actually.”

He nodded and held the curtain for you to walk through. Beyond the kitchen in the back was a small door that led to a staircase, that staircase led to the small flat you and your family grew up in. When you both had settled down in the living room, you had assumed your mother would be there, however she was not. Puzzled, you two sat on a nearby couch and you faced him to ask.

“Did mom go out somewhere? I mean… I didn’t see her in the restaurant or kitchen and it’s a little late to still be in bed…” Your fathers face fell, looking at the carpeting.

“Your mother is uh… well there’s no easy way to say this. Your mothers in the hospital.” You felt your heart drop.

“What’s wrong with her? Why didn’t you send a message?! I could’ve come home to help her- what’s going on dad?!” you asked, voice shaking.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples with one hand anxiously.

“We aren’t sure what was wrong with her but… we knew that with the big move and that new job of yours you’d have some real stress. We couldn’t put that on you, so we made the decision to send her to a nearby hospital to get her checked out.”

“Fuck…” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “You need to take me to her, I can heal her… or fix her or… something- anything! Gods dad, what the hell?! Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Sweetie it’s fine, your mothers going to be okay-“

“Dad that’s a lot of money! For crying out loud, how are you going to afford the hospital bills?”

“We’ll be fine! as long as you’re okay we’ll be just fine.”

“Here, let me see if I have any extra money on me,” you reached into your pockets for your wallet. Your father quickly nudged your arm away.

“Please don’t, you have enough on your plate already. Why don’t you tell me what you needed to say earlier, okay?” He asked, putting on a small smile.

You frowned.

“Well, since we’re getting everything out in the open…” You took in a deep breath, letting it out with a shaky breath. “I’m going to war.”

You felt your heart shatter the way you watched your fathers face drop again. It was as if he was being told his only child was about to be killed right in front of him.

“Dad, I know how it’s sounds but I don’t have any other choice. There are people who need me, I signed up for this- this is my job.“

“I understand.” He said softly. You frowned, pulling him into a hug.

“I wanted to see you and mom one last time before I left… I know it’s a worst case scenario but… if anything were to happen, I wanted to tell you both goodbye.” You heard your father sob in your ear, holding you tightly. You couldn’t help yourself from crying either and wept with him on the sofa.

“I know you’re strong, and I know you’re valuable, but I’m still so worried,” he sputtered, you patted his back to comfort him but it did next to nothing.

“I know, but I promise you I’m not going down without a fight. I swear to you and mom I’m not going to let myself be weak.” You said sternly, almost as if you weren’t choking back a rivers worth of tears.

After a few more minutes and you and your father had calmed down, you sat there and discussed the situation of war. What it meant for you and your family. You said that with the money you had, it’ll all go to them if you died and they’d be able to move far away, to a better village and have a good financial place for themselves. Your father wasn’t pleased to hear about this and almost cried again. To get his mind off of it, you told him about your job and all the people you met at Konoha.

“Machi and Gale, huh? They sound quite nice! You even have your own students, sounds like you’ve adapted pretty well,” you dad smiled, tears drying on his cheeks.

“I have,” you smiled back, a blush forming in your face when you remembered Kakashi was one of the first you grew close with, even if it started out so riske.

“What’s that look for, hmm?” Your father asked, teasing you for the small blush across your face.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, putting a hand to your cheek and feeling the warmth on your skin.

“Don’t lie to me, I know that look pretty well. You must’ve met someone who isn’t just a friend or a student to you, so tell me!” He laughed, playfully swatting you on your arm.

“I mean, yeah there is someone,” you smirk, shortly after your face fell.

“Um… is everything alright?”

“Yeah, It’s just… things are complicated right now.”

“Oh,” you father said sadly, crossing his arms.

“But he’s a really great guy!” you perked up.

“He?” Your father asked. You nodded. “Does he have a name?”

“He might.”

“He might? What might it be?”

“It might be Kakashi.” Just the your fathers arms uncrossed, his eyes widening.

“As in Kakashi Hatake?”

“Oh great,” you sighed, hating this conversation immediately. “Yeah, why?”

“Because that’s the famous copy ninja! I’ve got to say I’m impressed.” You groaned, holding your knees to your chest now.

“Please stop embarrassing me.”

“I’m not trying to, I’m just suprised that a man like that can be in a relationship with you.” Immediately you grew defensive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrowed.

“Woah, I didnt mean it like that! It’s just… he’s known for being such a hardened shinobi. Who knew there was a heart beneath the mask?” He nervously laughed.

“I knew.” You added. Your father frowned, nervously fidgeting in his seat.

“I’m sorry, " you sighed. "I didn’t mean to be so snappy. It’s just that we’ve spent a lot of time together and he means a lot to me. I’ve seen a lot of his sides and even though he drives me crazy I can’t help but love him regardless. He makes me feel seen, and appreciated. No matter how bitchy I am he keeps trying, nobody else has ever been this patient with me. And what makes things even crazier, is that I feel so drawn to him. It’s like my whole life has led up to the moment we’d meet. Oh, what am I saying? This is starting to get weird, I’ll stop while I’m ahead,” your face felt extremely hot, you avoiding looking at your dad.

“No it’s fine, I get it.” He said, patting you on the back.

“Yeah, thanks.” Silence.

“So what makes things so complicated?”

“‘What isn’t complicated’ is a better question,” although you knew that answer was something entirely too inappropriate to say.

“It’s that bad?”

“Yes and no. It’s a long story, I couldn’t get into it.”

“Well whatever the case may be, you sound like you really love him. In fact, I caught onto you saying that,” he smirked.

“Please stop.”

“Fine.” he raised his hands defensively, then stood up from his seat at the couch. “Now we can sit here moping all day or we can spend time together like we used to. What do you say?”

“Moping sounds good but we can’t afford that right now so let’s work the restaurant like we used to.” You smiled, following him down that stairs.

___________________

“Kakashi…?”

So that’s what it was, it was you all along. He should have known better. Kakashi stood up, uttering your name back to you. You weren’t sure what to do. Truth be told you didn’t forgive him for putting you out on the spot like that, but you also knew there was no real reason for him to forgive you either.

“I’m sorry but would you excuse us for a minute?” Kakashi asked Percy as he motioned to speak to you outside.

“No.” Percy said, fidgeting with his napkin. Your father shot you a concerned look, finally putting two and two together. You patted him on the back reassuringly.

“It shouldn’t take long, we’ll just have a chat upstairs.” You reached into your pocket for a set of keys, walking out the front door of the establishment, Kakashi on your tail.

You two walked out in silence and he followed you up the outside stairs, staying quiet as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. He looked around and it appeared to be your old bedroom, posters and ribbons hanging on the walls. It felt homey to him, more so when he noticed preserved flowers laying on your desk, jasmine to be exact.

“So did you follow me here or did you-“ he cut you off with his lips against yours. Your eyes grew wide in shock. But the moment he put his hand on the small of your back you felt entirely different. Your eyes closed softly and your hands tangled in his hair. You felt a familiar fire burn in your chest, your heart fluttering as his beat in tandem with yours.

“Kakashi,” you sighed, his grip on you becoming tighter. He pushed you against the door, keeping his grasp on you impossibly firm. “Now’s not a good-“

“Stop talking, damnit.” he huffed, his breath hot against your skin. Immediately you shut your mouth, only opening it again to allow his tongue to brush up against yours.

You locked the door while you were still up against it, then resumed pulling on his hair. You also pushed your body against his firm chest, feeling your loins flutter as his breathing became heavier and his kisses more desperate. Kakashis tongue prodded into your mouth, caressing your own as if it lost it, rejoicing in the feeling of finding it again. His body language spoke the same dialect, his arms tense while they wrapped around you, legs locked in place as they cornered you against the wooden door.

You grabbed onto his vest, yanking it off of him and it was only for a moment when his arms left your body. His vest sliding off of him and landing on the floor, he swiftly kicked it away and then resumed his primal grip against your body. He pulled you into him, a breath of air escaping your lungs the moment he ripped your body off the floor. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, head falling to your shoulder while his teeth sunk into your neck, you let out a small grunt from the pain that you couldn’t welcome enough.

“Kashi?” you whispered heavily. He cut you off with another sloppy kiss, the rough smack of his lips against yours had you digging your nails into his back through his body con long sleeve. “What are you doing-“ another kiss “here?”

“What does it look like?” He huffed, hands sneaking past your shirt as he caressed your back with his long fingers. Your breath hitched at the feeling of him touching your bare skin, hair on the back of your neck raising while the tickling sensation of his calloused fingertips roamed your skin.

“I know what you’re doing, but why?”

“I needed you,” he rasped, fingers digging into your skin, his own nails now dragging down your skin. You shuddered in his grasp, thighs clamping down tight around his abdomen. “Must I need any other reason?”

“No…” you knew this was rhetorical, but the gratification you gained from answering him regardless heightened your arousal, giving into him just like you always did. “Needed me for what?” you asked, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to gain your composure.

“I just needed to see you,” Kakashi muttered licking the slight teeth marks that curved along your neck. “I missed this… the way things were before. Y’know I thought about inviting you over the other night?”

“To your apartment?” You were suddenly curious. He nodded, his hands now rubbing down your back, causing you to shiver once again. “What would we do?”

“I don’t even know. I was just so empty without you, even you being in my presence would be enough for me. However, I’m sure we’d find ways to entertain ourselves,” He leaned in closely to your ear “Wanna know how exactly?”

When he said this he thrusted himself into you, his hard package pressing right up against your clothed cunt. You moaned, grinding down on the new stimulation the moment you could, completely void of embarrassment or shame.

“Y-yeah,” your heart was practically in your throat now, however you felt the heartbeats much, much lower.

“Well, I had something in mind,” he hummed, his hands now on your asscheeks, gripping them harshly.

“Ngh- Like what?”

“I was thinking about how bad you’ve been lately,” his breath was almost burning the skin of your neck, you wanted him to so badly rip your clothes off of you and take you to bed. His hair smelled so good, you kept digging your fingers inside of the fluffy mass, gently pulling at it while it tangled between your fingers. He grunted slightly.

“Just like how you are right now,” it came out a purr, vibrations coming up from deep inside his chest. “You’ve been a bad girl. Sometimes I can barely recognize you.”

You didn’t know why you felt so ashamed about his words, a wave of regret crashing hard against you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, unsure why the apology came so easy.

“So you admit you’ve been a bad girl?” he asked with amusement in his tone, his voice hoarse as he spoke deep into your neck.

“I’m as bad as they come,” you admitted, legs wrapping around even tighter. He chuckles softly.

“Oh? Well then I think we both know what that means,” his cock twitched underneath his pants, you had to sink your nails into your palms to avoid getting handsy. “I think you need to be punished severely.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps rising on your skin immediately. He carried you over to your bed, tossing you down on it. You crashed against it, a loud squeak echoing through the room. You blushed, hoping to whatever god there was that nobody downstairs could hear.

“What are you going to do with me?” You asked, your hands rubbing where he bit you on your neck.

“You want to know your punishment?” An amused smile spread across his face. You nodded. “Well that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

You felt frustrated, already wanting him to lash out on you, it felt like torture the way he stood over you, patently keeping his hands to himself.

“Please?” you whispered, one of your hands moving south of your body, he watched as your sunk your hands under your waistband, eyes blowing wide when your mouth fell open.

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it back out, pinning it down and above your head.

“I think you need another spanking.” You bit your lip, trying to hide your excitement, your panties already wet when he increased the pressure of his hand.

He sat down next to you, letting go of your wrist and instead using his hand to grab your hair into a tight pony tail, causing you to sit up.

“Should I bend over your lap?” it came out as a mewl, your desperation evident on your face.

“How funny that you just want to jump straight into it,” he smiled in your face, shiny teeth gleaming back at your from beyond his perfect lips. “Sweet girl, maybe you do know how to behave,” he kissed you softly, then had you bend over his lap.

With one hand still firm in your hair, the other pulled down your pants, your panties coming down with it. You clenched around nothing as the cool air hit your wet cunt, a shiver was sent up your back.

“Such a slut, excited for her spanking.” He caressed your soft globes, you hummed excitedly, almost moaning at the delicate touch. “If I hadn’t done this previously I would’ve assumed you didn’t know what this was. Is that true? Are you a stupid girl who doesn’t know what a spanking is?” he cooed, his hand grabbing you hip harshly, fingers digging into your skin.

You grunted, knowing with this much pressure he would leave bruises along you skin for days, weeks even.

“It’s not pleasant, at least not the way I do it, remember? It’s gonna hurt, way more than a few soft taps.”

“I’m hoping for it,” you replied back, surprised by your own response and enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he also seemed surprised, pleasantly surprised. A wicked smile was plastered on his face, searching your eyes with his own. “How long have you been wanting this for? I mean, you’re so obedient. I cant help but assume you’ve fantasized about this ever since last time,” his grip of your hair tightened, you smiled up at him devilishly.

“I’ve been wanting this since I last saw you.”

“Good answer,” he smirked. “Are you ready?”

You nodded quickly, arching your back as the tension builds up in your body.

“An even better answer." his fingertips glided againsty the curve of your back. "I don’t care if you scream or cry, in fact it would make this more enjoyable,” he hummed, pulling on your hair. “Now sit still.”

Kakashis hand came down hard on your backside, a loud slap echoed in your ears. You let out a depraved moan, biting your lip as the stinging starting to settle on your asscheek. He took a moment to take in the look on your face, ogling the flush of color across your cheeks. Quicker, and much harder this time, he struck you again with his ever-so-firm hand.

You whined, squirming in his lap until he spanked you again. After his next, you dug your nails into the mattress beneath you, huffing deep breaths in and out. Kakashi laughs softly, watching your soft ass turn a bright pink as he punished you.

“How many can you handle? You want me to get creative?” he asked happily, softly rubbing circles on your abused skin.

“Y-yesss…” your voice was trembling.

“If you say so. But it makes me wonder… how much pain can this pretty little ass take?”

“I deserve it, we both know I’ve been bad,” you mutter, nails coming out of the mattress as you slowly began to get less tense with each rub of Kakashis hand.

“Yes you have,” Kakashi exclaimed amused. “Do you know how bad? Answer me.” He smacked you again, and all you could muster was a string of whimpers and groans, no real words coming to your mind.

“Answer me properly. I don’t want to hear your little moans. I want a real answer. Tell me what you’ve done.”

“I… I’ve kept you a secret…” you whispered, your hand stroking his knee. “And the worst part is I’ve been fantasizing about you this whole time.”

“Interesting. For how long, give me a number.” He pulls your hair, tilting your face upwards so your eyes are locked.

“8 weeks,” you confess, looking away to avoid his strong gaze.

“8 weeks? How filthy have you been? What’s the most inappropriate thing you’ve fantasized about me doing?” He pulled your hair tighter, forcing you to look back at him.

“I’ve thought about you defiling me.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow.

“That’s all? I’m not going to lie, I expected more from you.” His hand move from your ass to your hip, once again squeezing it tightly. You winced.

“I-I’ve thought about you waking me up just so you can use me to get yourself off,” you blurted out. Kakashi perked up, much more interested.

“Anything else? You’ve had 8 weeks,” clearly he was having fun toying with you. It felt like torture dumping your fantasies onto him, but you couldn’t help spilling your guts.

“I’ve thought about pleasuring you.”

“Go on.” His grip became looser, yet still firm.

“I’d use my mouth.” He smirked.

“Is that all?” You wanted to melt into his lap, escape his massive presence.

“And my hands…”

“Well, don’t you have a plethora of talents,” he teased, bringing his hand back and quickly down his to your ass. You flinched, but before he could make contact he stopped himself, laughing softly. Your face burned hot.

“Anything else? I mean, 8 whole weeks is a looong time,” he raised his eyebrow again, looking directly in your eyes.

“Well…”

“Spit it out, don’t be a tease. I know you can say more.” His words made your skin tingle.

“I’ve thought about how mad you were at me, ignoring me all the time at the office. So I thought about trying to rile you up, get you even angrier. Just so maybe you’d snap and use me without holding back.” He loosened his grip on you.

“You really want that? For me to take my frustration out on you?”

“Yes.” You gripped his knee tighter.

“You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?” He smirked, grip getting firmer in your hair again.

“I am.”

“Do you have no shame? Ass in the air, panties off, pussy soaking wet, and looking me in my eye while you tell me about all the filth you’ve imagined about me. Sweet girl, you’re more perverted than I thought.” He pulled your hair back further, his mouth connected with your more a quick kiss.

“I bet you’ll say anything at this point if it’ll make me happy, huh? You’ve completely given yourself to me, isn’t that right?” With lidded eyes you nodded looking up at him.

“Are you mine to use?” Amused curiousity lingering in his voice.

“Yes.” Right after you confirmed this, another rough smack was right up against your ass. You yelped, once again digging your finger into the mattress.

“You like that, don’t you? You like getting hit by me.” You nod. Another rough smack. “Say it.” he practically barked.

“I- I like it! I like getting hit by you!” You wanted to curl up in embarrassment, once again hoping nobody could hear you. Kakashi had a wicked look on his face.

“I wonder how many times can I hit this ass of yours before you cry? Are you a tough girl?” He asked condescendingly.

“Yes…” He hit you harder, producing a loud moan out of you. He laughed.

“Are you tough or what? You seem to be enjoying this more than I expected,” this time he struck you lower, so that his palm was right up against the back of your thigh. You desperately squirm again, breathing shakily. He hits you there again, smiling to himself.

“Oh? Am I hitting a sensitive spot?” You almost shrieked when he smacked it again. “So I did find a sensitive spot,” he leaned down closely so that that he was almost in your ear.

“I’m going to keep smacking you, riiight here until your crying and begging me to stop.” And that’s what he did. Over and over again, watching as you rubbed your legs together, slick coating the feverish in-between of your legs.

“How many more spanks can you get before you cry? 10? 20? I know you can take it,” he kept spanking you, each one lighting you up until your ass was red. As he spanked you, he enjoyed watching your eyes roll back, your whimpers echo softly in your room, and your body spasm after each moment of contact.

“You must nearly be at the edge, huh?” Your eyes rolled back to normal, welling with tears. “Awww, is that it? Is that all you can take?”

He delivered the final blow, you moaned loudly, tears flowing down your cheeks. You felt lightheaded, pain and pleasure circulating inside of you. The erotic sensation making it's way up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Aww… did I do that? Did I make the tough, pretty girl cry?” You nod, unable to verbalize a single thought. “Such a good girl, taking it like a champ. I have to say, I admire how well you kept your composure… well at least most of it.”

He pulled your hair back, your head coming closer to him and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You shut your eyes and bit your lip, your heart melting at his sudden tender affection.

While still having a good grasp of your pony tail, Kakashi slung you over to the side, trapping you against him and the bed. He had you pinned, your wrists above your head. When he towered his large form over you his lips brushed against yours, his scent was everywhere. You closed your eyes again, and felt how his eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he bent down lower and licked up your neck.

You smirked, a sudden tickle causing you to slightly spasm, Kakashi laughed softly when he saw it. He instead turned to biting you, the feeling of his teeth in your neck filled you with the most euphoric nostalgia. You sighed, legs bending so your knees could squeeze his waist. He rutted his hips into your core, and you shuddered as the wet juices pooled in your cunt and trickled down your legs.

Kakashi looked up at you, lips curled into a cocky smile, pressing softly against your own. You parted your lips, his soft tongue dragging along your plump lip, before his teeth gently trapped it and he bit into it possessively. You never started the day thinking he'd be showing up at your old home, about to fuck you senseless into the mattress you've spent countless nights on. It seemed to you like Kakashi's fate was to always appear, and so was your passionate desire for him.

Kakashi's kiss could make your loins ache like a wildfire, yet it could also make your breaths slow and your heart melt. Maybe it was fate?

I am safe here. His arms are open, his tongue is tender, and I don't need to struggle anymore.

Its all you could think about, really.

Two fingers circled your drenched clit, Kakashi watched your hole clench around nothing. He licked his lips watching your pretty cunt swallow his didgets shortly after, curling up as he pumped in and out.

“She’s so pretty…” he hummed, his knuckles now shiny with your arousal.

Your toes curled the more he pumped you, his fingers working fast. You roughly grabbed his wrist, stopping his movement. He looked up at you, a single brow cocked.

“Something wrong?” his voice was smooth, eyes soft as they watched you with adoration.

“T-that’s not what I need…” You murmured, breathing in and out as if you’d pass out.

“Tell me, what do you-“

“Cock. Yours.” You demanded. Kakashis eyes grew wide, a sinister grin plastered in his face. He retracted his fingers from your cunt, a silent moan escaped your lips when he moved.

“I never thought I’d have you so needy, sweet girl.” Kakashis hand traveled to his waistbands and pulled them down, hard cock slapped against his body con shirt, precum making his tip glisten.

“I can’t help it.” You admitted, your eyes breaking away from his to stare at his erection. Your legs spread wide, and you wriggled excitedly.

Kakashi ducked down to kiss you, cupping your cheeks as he rutted against you, his length rubbing up and down against your clit. You moaned into the kiss, a smile on your face as your pleasure spread. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, getting even closer as you two enjoyed eachothers embrace.

Kakashis tongue made its appearance in your mouth again, the soft tip of his tongue swirling with yours, just to retreat and wetten your lower lip.

“Don’t tease me…” you whispered, breaking the kiss only to resume it quickly. He laughed gently, his hand moving south to grab the base of his cock and align it with your entrance.

“Well, aren’t you one to talk?” With one swift motion he went balls deep inside of you again, a shiver running up his back as he bottomed out, his public bone flush with your clit.

You both grunted, then began to lock lips as his hips drilled into you. You both knew you didn’t want to waste any time, each time he bottomed out you grounded down on him further, feeling his warm precum coat your walls as your own arousal spilled out and onto the sheets.

“Always wet for me…” he smiled, kissing down your jaw.

His cock was heavy, stretching you perfectly and throbbing each time it hit that tender spot inside of you that made you digs crescents into his back with your nails. He loved watching your lashes flutter when your eyes rolled back, and he devoured your lips whenever they opened to produce a guttural moan.

“I love you…” Kakashi cooed, a finger of his now playing with your clit.

“Love you- haaah- too…” you replied with a whine between words.

Kakashi pulls your shirt off of you, then quickly grabs both your wrists in one hand. He pins you down, and you’re unable to move. He retracts his hand from your clit and presses his forearm under your tits, pushing them up and drooling at how pretty they sit. He ducks down and sucks a nipple, his soft tongue spreading hot spit over your sensitive tits. He moans, cock throbbing as you pulse around him.

He looks up at you, your face red and forehead slightly sweaty. Fuck, you look so sexy. He groans your name, biting your tit, sucking a hickey into the soft flesh in his mouth. You’re seeing stars, vision blurry as your orgasm comes washing over you. You’re whimpering his name, shaking and yet unable to move under his massive presence. He lets go of your tit in his mouth and watched over you. You were his own personal porn star, cumming for him- cumming on him. Whimpering his name as you choke his girthy cock and take him while he resizes your cunt.

“Filthy… you’re making such a mess.” His pace was quicker now, your cries of pleasure louder as he beats your pussy into the mattress. “Bad girl…” he hums low, almost a growl.

You can’t fight back the violent euphoria, your poor cunt wants more of him, regardless as to whether or not you can take it.

“S’ good…” you mewl, erotic and soft squelches filling your ears as he continues to stuff you with his member, his own orgasm on its precipice.

“You really are a slut of this cock, huh?” he teased, thrusting hard, keeping his dick stuffed deep inside you as he pressed his pelvis against your clit. His nails dig into your wrists, your fingers try to grab onto him but you just can’t reach.

“No more playing games,” he grunts, a hand letting go of your wrists to wrap around your throat firmly. You gasp, your air running thin. “You want me?” His hips retreat, then slam harsh inside of you. You wince, eyes snapping shut when you moan.

“Tsk tsk, look at me.” you follow his order, your brows knitted tightly together, looking up at him through your lashes. His teeth glimmer as he grins mischievously, his grip on your neck tightening. “Nah, you need me.”

You feel like you’re about to pass out again, legs shaking viciously and you felt light headed.

“My body always misses this pussy… fucking made for me.” He nips at your jaw, railing you at the one pace he knows you and he both like it. “Mine.”

He wants to mark you up, leave you purple for everyone to see. So when he notices how hard it is for you to breathe he lets go, and takes delight in how you choke for air. He sucks deeply at your neck, throbbing inside you when he imagines how it’ll look after.

“M’gonna cum again…” you almost plead, hips tilting up to meet his own, welcoming his gorgeous cock back inside of you where you knew it belonged.

“I bet you want me to cum inside you,” he mutters, letting go on your sensitive skin before he sucks another purple bruise into your neck.

“Please.” Is all you manage, your slick now running down your ass.

“Always a slut for my cum…” He bites your shoulder, his tongue licking at the red skin underneath. “Can’t fuck you once without you begging for a creampie.”

You cum for a second time, begging for his hot cum to fill you up and pour out. Kakashi complies, a few more rough thrusts and he’s pumping you full of his burning seed, you feel impossibly full as you throw your head back. Kakashi moans heavily, still pumping you with his cock, loving the way you squirt on him with your own spend.

“You can play with yourself thinking about this tonight,” he says low, kissing you hard while he continues to shoot ropes into you. You twitch, legs spasming as your orgasm refuses to subside.

“N-no. I wanna be with you tonight! I wanna do it again!” You beg, wrapping your legs even tighter around him. His eyes widen and he licks your neck playfully.

“My sweet girl, if I bring you home with me tonight I won’t stop until the sun comes up.”

“I’m prepared to lose a few hours of sleep if it means I can spend them being your whore.” You respond shamelessly. He lets go of your wrist and you grab the back of his head, fully making out with him as you play with his silver mess. “I love you. I don’t care anymore.”

Kakashi hums in delight, pulling out of you, your shared cum sticking to his own thighs now.

“You mean you’re all mine?” He knew the answer.

“Mmhmm… And I’m sorry about the way I was acting before…” You admitted, hands running in his hair.

Kakashi rested his face against your tits, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“What do you mean? I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a scummy person to make you choose me or your career, especially when I knew how much you love it.” His voice was soft and somber, you kissed the crown on his head.

“We both messed up, yeah?” You slightly giggled.

“Yeah,” he laughed back. “If you’re sure about going into this war with me I want you to know something.” He picked his head up, towering over you again. His palm rested against your cheek as his eyes looked deep into yours.

“I don’t care who we’re facing or what we’re up against. I don’t care who’s getting hurt but I do know one thing,” His brows furrowed. “I’m not leaving your side once. I’ll cover you, I’ll fight for you, I swear I’ll kill for you- I already have and I will again if I have to.”

He softly kissed the tip of your nose.

“That goes for me too,” you sighed, one of your hands caressed his shoulder. He grabbed that hand and kissed the back of it, then pulled you off the bed.

You two got dressed, although you chose to change into a turtle neck, and went downstairs. The restaurant was more packed and there was chatter all around, the nerves you may have been heard upstairs disappearing completely.

Percy turned around when Kakashi approached the seat next to him and reclaimed his seat. You walked around the counter and began to wipe it down. Your father came out from behind the curtain that led to the kitchen.

“Here’s that sandwich,” Your dad said, handing your boyfriend the plated food. “Enjoy, son.”

“Son?” Kakashi asked, taking a look around to see if people were watching him. When the coast was clear he quickly lowered his mask for a bite, then put it back on.

Nobody could see the smile underneath he had while he chewed, but you noticed the crinkle underneath his eyes.

“Not bad,” Percy said, polishing off his meal. “What’d you think, Kakashi?”

“Yeah,” he looked up from his plate, watching as you walked around the restaurant, taking orders and handing out drinks. “It was good.” It tasted like home.

A/N: after a much needed break/hiatus i’m finally back RAAAAHHHHH !!!!!!! for everyone asking if i plan on continuing the mafia AU yes i do but i feel like it’ll be a small mini series.

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