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sjsmith56 · 1 year

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Which Bucky Am I Writing Today?

Summary - Something silly that came to me and I just had to write it down. The Writer sits at her computer thinking of how to write her latest fanfic of her favourite fictional character, Bucky Barnes. Three versions of Bucky come out of her imagination to help and things get a little out of hand.

Length - 2485 words

Characters - the writer of undetermined age (1st person POV), Bucky Barnes (various incarnations), the writer’s husband, several Avengers, Jake Seresin (cameo)

Warnings - probably not suitable for under age 18, so minors DNI. writer’s block, indecision, self-doubt, talk of sexuality in fanfic.

Author’s note - something fun about the various Bucky’s helping the writer to write her latest fanfic. The references to fandom is part of the writer’s own insecurities and issues, and is not meant to reflect on any current writers of fanfic. It’s all good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I set up my laptop in my writing room while my husband settled in to watch the football game in the living room. It wasn’t really a writing room; it was actually our bedroom, with one of those portable lap desks. Being comfortable while I wrote was important and sitting on the bed, with a tea on the nightstand and my favourite ambient music was how I wrote most of my fanfics, specifically Bucky Barnes ones.

First of all, if you haven’t already read fanfic, you should. There are some incredibly creative people who write it just for the joy of writing as there isn’t any money in it considering that someone else holds the copyright for the characters. Fair use provisions in copyright law allows for “amateur” writers to use the characters as long as they don’t financially gain from their efforts. There’s more to it but that’s the gist of it. I write Bucky Barnes fanfic because I like the character and imagine plots of him in different scenarios.

That’s what my dilemma was … which Bucky was I going to write about? I was choosing between three versions of the man. First, newly promoted Sergeant Bucky Barnes, in his dress uniform, strolling into the dance at the Stark Expo with two girls on his arms. He was handsome, confident, and a man on the cusp of greatness. The second choice, the Winter Soldier, with long hair, brooding, dark, circa 1991, a chilling year for him. My final choice was Falcon and the Winter Soldier Bucky, at a more vulnerable stage in his life, just after he confessed to killing the son of the elderly man he became friends with. With sad eyes, lonely, and feeling isolated from society but knowing he had to be truthful to move ahead in his life in the 21st century.

Trying as hard as I could I wrote introductions for each version of Bucky but just wasn’t satisfied with any of them and deleted what I wrote.

“Hey doll.” I looked up. Sarge was sitting on a chair in the corner of my room. “Having trouble?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I want to write something different about you, something that a reader will like because they haven’t read something like it before.”

He nodded. “I could take a girl to a dance, have a few drinks, show her a good time then finish with some alone time in the back seat of my dad’s car or maybe her flat. Her roommate could be spending the night with her fellow so that we have free reign of the place.”

I smiled glumly at him. “That’s usually what you do,” I replied. “It’s okay, but I wanted something different this time.

He nodded then smiled broadly. “Coney Island! I could clean up at the shooting gallery and win you, I mean the girl, a stuffed animal. Then we go on the ferris wheel, and at the top with the view of the fair below us, I give you a kiss to remember before I ship out.”

“Yeah,” I replied curtly. “It’s been done.”

“He’s just a boy, still thinking of chasing the girl,” said a deep foreboding voice, and a tall hulk of a man, with long hair and a metal arm came out from a dark shadow in the corner of the room. It was odd it was so dark there because the sun was still up and everywhere else in the room was bright. “You should write about me, of how I worship you, even though HYDRA continually wipes the memory of you from my mind.”

“Yeah,” I hesitated, “but that’s been done, too, as HYDRA is always wiping your memories. I need something different.”

He flexed his metal hand and bore his eyes into mine. “Sex with this in play is always dangerous,” he intoned.

“Sort of, as some writers work it in as a kink. I’m just not good at that. It doesn’t feel authentic to me when I try to make it kinky and dangerous.”

“Then why am I here?” he huffed. “If you’re not going to use my obvious attributes ….” He stopped talking suddenly, becoming alert. “We’re not alone. Someone is here.”

I listened hearing only my husband yelling at the tv.

“That’s my husband,” I said. “He’s watching the football game.”

The Winter Soldier glared at me. “I know what television football is. It is not your husband.”

Slowly pulling a knife out his boot he suddenly whipped it at the door where Bucky Barnes from Falcon and the Winter Soldier was just entering. He caught the knife in his vibranium hand, glaring at it, then at the Soldier.

“Do you mind?” he asked, tossing it casually back to the long-haired version of himself. “Heard I was needed here.”

“She’s having trouble deciding which version of Bucky to write for her next WIP,” said Sergeant Bucky Barnes. “I don’t see what the problem is. Most readers love my characterization as an easy-going ladies’ man.”

The Winter Soldier Bucky shrugged. “I hear the same about me but as a dark, brooding, dangerous assassin.”

FATWS Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and smiled nicely at me.

“Who are you writing for?” he asked. I started to say the readers, but he put his hand up. “Truthfully.”

“Me,” I admitted. “But I still want others to like it. It seems the ones with smut and polyamory get the most views and positive comments. Mine don’t do as well.”

“Smut, as in dirty and obscene?” asked Sergeant Bucky Barnes, his eyes opening wide. “People can write and read that openly?”

“Pretty much,” I replied. “I’ve written sexy stuff, but some writers have the talent to write it a lot better than I do. I’m better at fluff.”

“That can involve sex but is tamer than outright smut, right?” asked FATWS Bucky. “So, write that. If you’re good at doing that, it doesn’t matter if you get the numbers of readers that the others do.”

He was right. Winter Soldier was still brooding.

“Tell me about polyamory,” he demanded, as he played with his knife.

“Multiple sex partners, both male, female, even alien, since Thor isn’t human,” I said, then added, “even at the same time.”

Both Sarge and Winter looked up sharply, their gaze on my face. The third Bucky was grinning, seeming to know about it already.

“Have you written anything about it?” asked Sarge carefully.

“No, it’s not my thing,” I explained. “It’s personal preference and I’m a one guy, one girl type, pretty traditional really.” I took a sip of my tea, making a face because it was cold. “I’m going to warm up my tea in the microwave. Don’t go anywhere. I still need help.”

As I walked out of the bedroom, I could hear the three Bucky’s talking. It seemed FATWS Bucky was filling in the other two on Alphas and Omegas, bisexuality, dubcon, noncon, and all the other possibilities. Putting their conversation out of my mind my husband looked up as I passed.

“How’s it going?” he asked, still looking at the tv.

“Writer’s block,” I replied, putting my mug in the microwave and pressing the reheat button.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do. If you ever want to write some Black Widow smut, I volunteer to beta-read it.”

“Thanks, you’re so helpful,” I said sarcastically, taking my tea out.

Heading back down to the bedroom I was puzzled to see FATWS Bucky leaning against the doorframe. He heard me coming and turned to face me.

“I told them this wasn’t a good idea,” he said, apologetically.

Stepping into the bedroom I couldn’t believe it. Sarge and Winter were both naked, under the sheets. Thor and Loki were taking their clothes off and Black Widow and another woman had just arrived.

“What the hell?! I told you I’m not comfortable writing polyamory.” A head peeked out from under the covers. “Who are you?”

The handsome blond man grinned. “Jake from Top Gun Maverick. Nice to meet you.”

“I haven’t even seen it,” I exclaimed. “Out. Everyone except the Bucky’s go back to your fandoms. Now!”

I waited in the hallway, fuming, while FATWS Bucky monitored the situation. It took several minutes before he put his hand on my shoulder.

“The others are gone,” he said. “I feel bad about that. They asked and I told them what my research on 21st century sexuality turned up. They got excited and well … you saw what happened.”

“What about you?” I asked. “You weren’t about to jump in with both feet?”

He grinned. “It’s like you said. It’s personal preference. With some writers, I’m all in for the smut and darkness, but I’m happy being whatever you need me to be. You’re the creative one. This work in progress is yours and should reflect what you’re comfortable with. I’ve read some of your stuff and the sexy parts work for the stories you’ve written. Do your own thing.”

I smiled at him. “There’s a reason I like writing you the most.”

“I know,” he smirked, putting his arm around me. “I like how you write me, too.”

Together, we went back into my bedroom. I noticed they had taken the time to make the bed, complete with military corners, which shouldn’t have been noticeable with a duvet on top, but Sarge lifted it up to show me, his face hopeful that I would approve. I smiled at him, appreciating the fine work.

“I’m going to assume that you keep forgetting that other writers already write you into smut and polyamory situations,” I said to Winter Soldier. “Considering that your memory keeps getting wiped I’ll give you a pass on this one. But you also remember things which are really important to you so I’m going to ask you to remember not to do that again, please. I don’t mind bringing sex into a WIP with you as the main character, but I keep it pretty simple. Okay?”

“I will comply,” he replied. “May I go now? That Jake said one of his writers is writing a, what do you call it, a mashup?”

“Fine, go,” I said. “Have fun. Wear protection.”

He returned to his dark corner and disappeared, taking the darkness with him. I turned to Sarge. He sat on the edge of the bed, so cute and adorable with his baby face.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “I admit I got carried away, but I never heard of such things. Hell, just getting a girl to put it in her mouth was a big deal.”

“Well, did Bucky tell you about Stucky?” I asked, looking at the remaining Bucky, who shook his head. “That’s you and Steve, together. Most of those writers who write that have it start when you’re both teenagers, before he ….” FATWS Bucky shook his head vigorously. “That’s right. You don’t know about what Steve does after you ship out. You’ll find out in a few months. Anyway, my point is that your characterization, at this point, is kind of the fun Bucky. You maybe had trysts with two women at one time but generally you’re associated with dancing and having fun. A lot of readers like you at this point because it’s before a lot of shit happens. You’re still important, remember that.”

He nodded and stood up. “Hug before I go?” he asked.

I agreed and gave him a nice hug. FATWS Bucky offered him a pound hug. After a few tries Sarge got it, and he left through the window. That left me and the final Bucky. Climbing on the bed I patted the space beside me, and he sat there, leaning against the headboard.

“So, it’s going to be me for this story?” he asked. “What are you looking for?”

“Romance, duh,” I replied. “A meet cute, with some angst from you over not feeling worthy of such a sweet woman. We can do a bit of a slow burn for the romance part, but once we kiss, then it’s a journey together to define our sexual relationship.”

“I like it,” he said, nodding his head. “What about the sex? Straightforward? Kinks? Anything goes?”

“Mostly straightforward but we can do some mild bondage, whipped cream and chocolate sauce play,” I mused. “How do you feel about marriage and kids?”

“Favourable,” he said. “Despite being a ladies’ man in my youth I always thought I would get married and have a family. What about the original female character? I’m open to anything.”

“Named, slightly plus sized, with intimacy issues, and a novice at oral sex, both giving and receiving.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “Why don’t you get started and I’ll be right here to help you along the way. You know what you’re doing, and you do it well.”

He always knew how to make me feel good about what I was writing so I just dived in and started. As the words flowed, he read from where he was sitting. Every so often he would nod his head and occasionally he would say “yes, that’s good,” when he really liked it. When my husband came in to ask if I wanted to order out for dinner, Bucky sat still, so as not to draw attention to himself. We agreed on Thai, and he went off to place the order.

“You have a good man there,” he said, warmly. “You should write him that Black Widow smut, just for him.”

“How did you hear that?” I asked.

“Super soldier hearing,” he smiled, tapping his ears. “I have an idea you can use.” He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “What do you think? Will he like it?”

“I might get lucky,” I replied, opening another Word document on my laptop. “Tell me that again.”

I typed it in as he described his idea to me before we returned to my original WIP. We worked on it for a while then my husband called to say the food order had arrived. Bucky stretched and looked at me.

“Well, I guess you have to go for dinner. I think you’re on the right track, so I’ll leave you to it. If you need me just call. I’ll always be there for you.” He got up and went to the door before turning towards me. “It’s how you always write me.”

With a wave he disappeared through the doorway, and I saved both documents before closing my laptop. Leaving my bedroom … writing room, I smiled at what I accomplished today. There were some false starts and serious distractions but once I focused, I was able to put my thoughts down. Even though I had planned a one shot there was enough to start a full novel with my favourite character in fan fiction, Bucky Barnes.

One Shots Masterlist

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Please support the author by reblogging. Comments appreciated.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #fatws bucky #ww2 Bucky #winter soldier #writing fanfic #writing something silly #crossing the fourth wall #bucky barnes oneshot

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artisticdreamweaver · 4 months

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So I feel like sharing my troll ocs from years ago and their glowups. A lot of this will be copy/pasted from my personal info server on them.

First off is our girl Vandre Errant. She is a Seer of Void who uses Batkind.

Struggles with the idea that everything drifts into nothingness and obscurity. Looks for something to give them purpose. Has perfect vision in the dark/fog/mist/underwater. Struggles to choose a right path. Can tell if someone is hiding something. Sees the importance of obscure things.

Next is Elytra Ecyrus, a Bard of Mind using Macekind.

Avoids indifference and voices own opinions. Honest and open. Wants to prove they do care. Desire for strange things (his being bugs). Wants to stand out. Irrationally stubborn. Something will make them stop liking their interests and they become apathetic. Identity crisis. Tries to rationalize every feeling.

This is Heikka Ampoul, a Rogue of Space who uses Scissorkind.

Painfully attracted to women she doesn't know what to do with herself. Problem with change and creation. Does not like change at all. Has too many ideas they can't stick to. Self image issues. Little faith in their work and self. Always confused. Lonely at times.

Next is Citron Aselus, an Heir of Heart who uses Bowkind.

Well developed sense of empathy and compassion. Strong emotions. In tune with their needs. Never has self doubts. Quick to adapt to personal changes. Great judge of character. May be taken advantage of.

Here is Diamon Mantle, a Sylph of Life who uses Spearkind.

Encourages people to enjoy life to the fullest. Infectious joy. Big personality. Helps others achieve their goals. Small but strong. Always has an answer. Picky. Questions why you don't like something. Might force you to try and enjoy things.

Now we got Lilith Duivel, the Prince of Doom who uses Pitchforkkind.

Absolute bitch. Reckless and full of energy. Rule breaker. Can overcome any hurdle. Refuses to be limited. Can free others of emotional/mental/physical barriers even if the person doesn't want to. Pushes people past their limits. Savior or Dictator. Willing to push on in a failed event. Refuses to be stopped. Crushes all in their way.

This is my baby boy Indica Flammo, the Page of Blood who uses Lighterkind.

High as a Kite 24/7. Struggles to make connections. A try hard. Struggles with obligations. People are wary of them. Misplaced passion. Through hard work, trials, and errors they will become dependable. Will be able to fulfill promises. Will become a great leader. Will make unlikely allies.

Here we have Jessey Whyatt, the Knight of Breath who uses Revolverkind.

Western flick obsession. True independence and freedom. Not loyal to any side. Good sense of directions. Mercenary for hire. Feels like relying on others is a weakness. Fears settling down. Skilled at getting out of obligations. Willing to leave bonds behind.

This is Newton Mendel, the Maid of Light who uses Magnifyingglasskind.

Relies on others for info. Doesn't bother to do his own research. Superstitious. Blindly believes in others much like a student does with their teacher. Poor eye sight. After realizing self they create their own info. More like an active scholar. Can give things new meanings.

More to be added in a reblog since I'm out of photoslots lol

#homestuck #troll ocs

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puppy-phum · 1 year

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Hello Vish! Congratulations on your milestone. Thank you for creating and sharing all your beautiful edits with us, I really love and enjoy seeing them on my dash. I hope I'm not too late for sending you prompts. I have several of them because I'm not really good at choosing a show/pairing + text combination, so I'm not sure if these will work but I'm just going to try. Please feel free to choose whichever combination that meets your interest, or just ignore them if you think they're not something you prefer to do.

1) The Eclipse (AkkAyan) + Quotes from George Orwell, 1984: (a) “Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” or (b) “If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.” or (c) “We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.”

2) Enchanté (AkkTheo) + Quotes from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince: (a) “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” or (b) “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”

I hope one of these combinations works for you, if not, that's okay too :) Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day! 💜

hello april ♥ thank you for all your lovely words and the prompts ^^ i've enjoyed them and i'm so very happy to have you here! i knew ever since i received this ask that i'd go for one of the akktheo prompts you gifted me. i adored enchante and never got to make any edits for it before, so i wanted to try. both quotes were lovely, but for some reason, i got stuck on the rose.

here's what i came up with

i hope you enjoy the edit ♥ have a wonderful rest of your week!

(some extra rambles under the cut!)

so i didn't have a very definite plan for this edit, other than that i wanted this to work as some type of "bookmark" visually. as the little prince is, well, a book and they tie akktheo's journey with the said book very tightly, i wanted this bookmark to work as their timeline? does this make sense? i hope it does haha.

the rose travels with them through their relationship ever since it first appears before akktheo's first kiss. this made me think about the "time wasted for your rose" as they both kind of... idk. they both waste time on each other and figuring out this thing between them. but they willingly do it. every time, it's time willingly given away. that wasted time, it matters to them.

so i wanted the rose to just appear a lot in this edit. to be present and show these changes in their relationship. how it all starts with a little spark, in an unlikely place, and grows despite the hard circumstances (within theo as he guards it by himself for a long while). then it finally gets a home as akk starts discovering his own feelings and accepts them.

then akk moves the rose to theo's care, thinking it will be better off there. i took this as a way of akk giving his heart away. the rose symbolises that. he took care of it with all his might and now it's with theo where it belongs. he tries to take care of theo but feels that theo is better at taking care of both of them.

and then... well, the petals scene was supposed to symbolise their romance and the romantic moments between them. the celebration kind of. the cheer and joy and falling even deeper in love. the soft moments, spent surrounded by their now blooming love.

and then there's the rose that withers as theo gets hurt and akktheo separate. the rose that hurts theo (literally as he pricks his finger on it) and starts dropping its petals. the rose theo no longer knows how to take care of and the rose that eventually witnesses theo leave back to france, alone.

but bc this was supposed to be happy, i ofc had to include the akktheo reunion in france (in that very horrible cgi france XD) so the hug is there. with the lonely rose... well. let's just think that the rose now has a new life somewhere. all that time wasted on it wasn't for nothing.

i hope any of this makes sense! i loved making this edit and i personally enjoy the colors in this a lot ^^ also it was fun going through enchanté again, i miss that show and i miss the soft, sweet forcebook ♥

#thank you so much ♥#makeavish2023 #promptrambles #sorry this has taken ages but for some reason #this summer and spring too passed by quicker than i expected haha

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kxlinthesky · 1 year

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EPISODE 6 PART 1 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 5-3 English Translation

Wheels rattled against stone. Hooves clopped against pavement. Dresses swished through the air. Heels clicked along the ground. A mysterious perfume-like scent wafted in the breeze.

And there was a song echoing in the air, soft yet cheery, almost triumphant.

“We are polished, sparkling jewels

None may choose what we may do

Those who fail to gain such gems

Will ne’er know joy so pure and true

Someday we will finally be free

To swim like fish through city streets

When cruelty is cast aside

Choose the glittering, gorgeous life

Choose the voice of truth so bright

Choose the One, our light, our guide”

Two voices, one soprano, one alto, weaved through the fog.

“... Jewels....”

Ritz raised her head at the sound of the song, wiping the tears from her eyes and peering into the fog.

And from within the cloud appeared a carriage rolling its way toward her, the silvery tendrils of mist seemingly flashing and sparkling around it. Deeper in the fog, costumed Demons draped in dresses dark as night sang along. This could only be the very Demon Parade that was causing such a commotion within the public eye.

Yet Ritz did not flee, did not panic. No, she waited patiently where she stood for the procession to reach her side, a dark and stormy expression twisting her features.

The clacking wheels drew closer and closer.

The strange scent wafted by Ritz’s nose, more powerful than before – the scent of fresh lilies. She breathed deeply of the aroma.

“Oh, Ritz, what are you doing here?” one of the silhouettes in the fog called out. “I was wondering why you weren’t at the salon.”

“... I apologize, I had gone to a friend’s....” Her immediate response came tremblingly, but not from fear; the tears she’d been holding back were simply threatening to fall again.

The Demon... no, it was a regular women dressed as a Demon, noticed her distress and gently cooed, “You poor thing, having to go through so much strife. Was it your superior this time? Or a coworker?” Soft silken gloves reached out to cup Ritz’s cheek.

The tears began to fall, tracing familiar, well-worn lines down her cheeks.

“Oh. Oh, dear.” The masked woman glanced around to her companions and called, “Forgive me, everyone, but I’ll be taking Ritz back to the assembly hall for a moment.”

“All right.”

“That’s fine.”

“Feel better!”

The others readily agreed, and the procession moved on, clacking wheels and singing voices fading into the distance.

“You must be so tired,” murmured the woman. She took Ritz by the hand and led her down the street she’d just come.

The two walked through the dense fog for some time before they arrived at a sizable old building bearing traces indicating it had at one point been a hospital. They passed through the gate and opened the door to find a lone woman standing on the other side. Unlike the others, she was without a costume, instead wearing a simple dress with fraying hems. “Is everything all right?” she asked the second she saw Ritz, her eyebrows climbing as she stepped smartly forward.

“Ahh, Maud. You get on well with Ritz, if I remember correctly,” hummed the first woman. “Could I ask you to stay with her for a bit? She seems a bit down.”

“Huh? Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. I’ll be rejoining the others now.” The woman left quickly, presumably to rejoin the parade, leaving Ritz with Maud.

The woman directed Ritz to a sofa near the entrance. “... Do you want some tea? I brought a good kind with me today, I can make you some,” she suggested.

As Ritz sat down, she swiped at her cheeks. “I apologize, I’m just a little emotional at the moment,” she replied. “I usually have better control of myself, but lately, everything seems to be setting me off. I have to be better.”

“Don’t say that, Ritz, you’re working plenty hard already,” Maud urged, gentle as could be. “Of course things like this’ll happen if you’re running yourself ragged.” Her gaze overflowed with sympathy... but it was tempered with sadness as well.

“But I have been happy, too. Everyone here is so nice, nothing at all like what the rumors say. You’re all good people fighting only for women’s rights, and yet everyone calls you ‘Demons’ and decries you as kidnappers... they’re all liars.”

“Ritz....”

“Even the drunk man whose case I took, to find the woman who vanished in the salon, lied to me. But it’s enough that I know that now.”

Maud was silent. Ritz sniffled, scrubbing at the tear tracks on her face, then tilted her head up to paste a smile on. Maud paused for a moment, then whispered, “... Hey, Ritz, you probably shouldn’t come by here anymore.”

Ritz tilted her head, puzzled.

Maud heard the silent question and elaborated, “You came in here saying you were looking for someone, but you don’t need to anymore if it’s not true, right? You’ve been dropping in almost every day lately, it seems like, and it has to be causing some problems in your daily life, plus you’re so busy with your job anyway... so you don’t need to go to all that effort.” There was clear worry in the crease between her brows.

“That is... true, but I do think of this salon as a genuinely lovely place in its own right.” Ritz bent forward, as if physically shaking off the concern emanating from Maud. “I would like to offer whatever help I can to this establishment. I want to help the women suffering from illness or discrimination. Besides, I want to... apologize properly, for coming here suspecting this group of being kidnappers at first....”

This was the building Ritz had arrived at when she’d first gone searching for the man Davies’ missing wife. It was old, standing apart from the rest of the city. Once it had been private property, then it had been a church, then a hospital, and now it was being used by a group who aimed to shelter women suffering from all sorts of troubles with nowhere else to go.

It was also, incidentally, the headquarters for the rumored “Demon Parade.”

It was a fantastical, bizarre procession. The group would emerge from silver fog, and all who laid eyes on it would be sucked into their midst, never to return.

But the rumors were absolutely nothing like what Ritz had seen for herself. These women patrolled the streets at night and called out to others who’d suffered injustices and had lost their places to belong, inviting them into their ring of acceptance and assistance. The rumors swirling around the city made it so that no one taking a pleasant midnight stroll would dare approach them, for fear of disappearing without a trace.

But not the women. They were sick, or homeless, or backed into metaphorical corners – they didn’t have the strength to flee from the parade even if they wanted to. The group marched through the streets night after night in search of women just like that.

Ritz herself had been investigating the group alongside her missing persons case, but the more she uncovered, the more she understood just how different they were to the ghost stories spreading across town, and the more she admired them.

“I will provide directions to this facility. I understand there are strange rumors flying about, but I intend to speak with my father to dissuade the police force from acting on any unsavory untruths they may have heard. You will not lose your place, your home, so please rest easy, Miss Maud.”

Maud sucked in a breath, conflicted. “You don’t need to worry about me, Ritz....”

“You have suffered enough,” Ritz said firmly. “When I think of your upbringing, it hurts my heart, Miss Maud. Locked away for as long as you can remember, your freedom stolen from you... and losing the man who freed you from that pain, your husband... I can’t even fathom what you’ve gone through. I’m truly glad you found support here.”

Maud’s eyes flicked around, her jaw jumping like she wanted desperately to say something. Eventually she visibly steeled herself and grabbed one of Ritz’s hands, her eyebrows rising. “... You know,” she began, “it might be odd for me to say something like this here, but –”

“Your heart is truly magnificent as it is now.”

Another voice cut through their conversation. Standing on the other end of the entrance hall was a young woman... no, maybe they were just a beautiful man? It was difficult to tell, but either way, there was an androgynous-looking person slowly walking up to them, their silhouette almost fragile, even ephemeral. Short platinum blonde locks gently swayed with every step, sometimes shifting to mask their white lily earrings from view. Golden eyelashes framed impossibly clear green eyes. They were dressed in an impeccable suit with a huge collar, decorated with a gorgeous lily motif, as beautiful as an elf straight out of a fairy tale.

Ritz stood as soon as she saw them approaching. “Hello, Krinos,” she greeted them, eyes shining with joy.

“I am eternally grateful for your consideration of others,” they said, almost gliding across the floor. Their voice was wonderfully clear and wonderfully sweet, like freshly made lemonade, sinking into Ritz’s ears and reverberating in her skull, setting off fireworks in her chest. A wave of sweet dizziness overtook her mind.

“No, not at all. If I can be of any help to you –”

Before she lost consciousness, Ritz pressed her hands to her chest.

To an outside observer, she appeared completely lost in fervent prayer.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

#kotonoha project #special sunday release since 5-3's so damn short

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finch-the-foolish · 1 year

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Okay boys we're on an adrenaline rush from going to a dance with our friends and more than happy to ramble so it's time for celestials, their issues, our girl gemmy gem, and the joy that is today's Horror of the Heavens.

Alright so the horrors (abbreviation pending) includes many a fun gang of individuals, with the basic premise being the server's resident eldritch horrors are trying real hard not to be discovered as eldritch horrors, as most of them are generally seen in a negative light. It's a bit messy atm, but feel free to ask about it and help me flesh out the world!

Anyway, today's topic is the starry bois gang, from which our girly geminislay originates for au purposes. Our token traveler of the stars and wanderer of the cosmos, leading a double life to deal with her otherworldly nature. (A forewarning, we know little about the actual canon and at this point do not have the energy to research, so this is your This is an AU, Do Not Yell at Me warning)

First off, celestials. As previously mentioned, these are beings of the stars, heavily connected with the universe and it's multitudes. They're wanderers by nature, needing to edge across the solar winds, to soar across the void fast as the lights which carry them. It's very difficult for a celestial to stay within one realm, their disconnect with the greater universe growing worse the longer they linger, eventually driving them mad, or, worse, make them snap outright.

And so they wander, putting up masks of identity and traveling through the multiverse. This is a common practice among Celestials, and unlike some other groups, they are very scattered throughout the multiverse. They often choose to reside in multiple realms, managing their needs of travel and movement in a slightly more healthy manner, though it can often be a cause of stress.

There's a thing I mentioned in the gem fic, imploding. And that's a Very Very Bad Thing for celestials. They're decently powerful, growing stronger with time, though incredibly volatile in power and emotion. When they feel, they feel strongly, and those emotions can drag their powers to the surface. There's a certain point where a celestial snaps, a point of emotional and mental turmoil where their powers go into defense mode, and turn very destructive. Especially for a newborn celestial, whom are often very unstable and struggle with controlling their powers, the danger is present and real. If bad enough, this reflexive defense can destroy regions, worlds even. There have been stories of a whole realm which was destroyed in one such implosion, though whether it was on purpose or a tragic accident has since been lost to history.

Many of the well-known stories are neutral, if more negative, largely due to their unstable powers and usage of false selves in their travels. There are some positive views of them, but generally they're in a fairly neutral light.

They have a heavy variation in personalities and colour schemes, though many align with some form of star-related scheme. Their defining feature, regardless of form, is their eyes, which are continually dark, holding a multitude of bright speckles like a miniature sky. They can minimize this with their abilities and reality warping, but can never hide it.

Aight uh it's late so ima end there but feel free to ask questions (in fact, please do! Questions about the au in general, the characters, our gangs of eldritch dudes, the world, anything and everything. Please I'm so lonely I need to talk lol-) goodbye for now, may your journeys be safe and the fates kind in their pulling of future.

#lqmie says things #hermitcraft #geminitay #Celestials #my au #no tag thoughts only important for we are eepy and need to rest #the horrors and the heavens #hermitcraft gem

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chemmerson · 2 years

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CONGRATS ON 300 EM !!! what about "why are you so cold?" with kakashi? much love <333

hello sweet human! much, much love to you. thank you so much. i don't really know what happened when i started writing this lol. i think my love for kakashi took over and we ended up with...this. i hope you enjoy it anyway nonnie, thank you <3

Prompt #34 - "Why are you so cold?"

Pairing: Kakashi/GN!Reader

Words: 1.5k

Summary: There are many things to be thankful for, and Kakashi Hatake is definitely one of them.

Warnings: reflecting on feelings, slight angst i guess?, fluff, friendship (maybe more than..?)

The moment you opened the door to the small back porch, the cool night air instantly gave you relief. As much as you cherished the nights spent with your crazy—but lovely—friends, sometimes you needed a breather from the constant, hyper conversations that always ensued.

Even when the door closed behind you and you walked to lean your elbows on the wooden railing, you could still hear the chattering of everyone. Anko’s boisterous laughter followed by Gai’s deep bellows still made you smile. To you, there was truly nothing more precious than the joy of your friends. Their pure smiles, relaxed shoulders, and warm eyes were things that you treasured because if any of you knew anything, it was that your friends could be taken away in an instant.

It’s easy to slip into a comfortable mindset. To think that it won’t happen to any of them, to you. As invincible as one might think or feel, a shinobi’s mission is never guaranteed. You all learned that over the years as friends left and didn't come back.

Some choose to deflect. Don’t get close to anyone and the pain of losing them won’t hurt as much. It’s a lonely life, but a lot of shinobi don’t bother with letting people into their heart, either from personal experience or how the lifestyle can sometimes lead you into isolation.

You, however, choose gratitude. Memories. Love. Laughter. For you, it’s the only thing that can get you through. Because you’ve heard Anko’s terrible, hilarious jokes and the genuine smile that comes with it. You’ve seen Gai tell a story with his animated gestures and ridiculous expressions. You’ve seen your dear friend Asuma finally ask your best friend Kurenai out and the love in their eyes when they look at each other. You’ve stayed up late with Genma and Raido, talking for hours about anything and everything until you realize the sun is rising over the mountains.

And though he was a tough shell to crack, you've gotten to know Kakashi Hatake.

You smiled to yourself as you leaned on the railing, letting the cool air clear your mind. If you would have told yourself several years back that you would be friends with Kakashi Hatake, you would’ve laughed. Because there was once a point where you had tried, and at the time, it seemed like he was doing everything in his power to stay the farthest away from you.

As kids, Kakashi was one of those that isolated himself. It was strange to see someone so young already fall into that type of life, so you and your friends tried everything. Gai was the main culprit, following Kakashi around, pressing and bugging him to join get togethers with all of you or challenging him to a fight. Asuma would try and pry sometimes, Kurenai would offer him her the tempura she didn’t want with a smile, Anko would try and tease him with her “charm”.

You watched him from afar mostly. His eyes always held something hard and dark, similar to the wall he put up in front of others. But you could also see the pain. The hurt. Rumors flied around the academy, but you didn’t pay any mind. All you knew was that Kakashi was not like the other kids. He was hurting.

As years went on, you started to do what your other friends did. Tried to engage in conversation. Offered him snacks. Asked for his opinion on certain matters. And it was always the same, dismissive kind of response.

You recalled suddenly, a moment with Kakashi when you were teenagers. You saw him walking on the street just ahead of you and thought to invite him to go to dinner with you, Genma, and Anko. You ran up the street, calling his name and waving when you saw him turn his head.

“Kakashi!” You smiled when you stopped just next to him, and he stopped to turn slightly to you as well, though not all the way. But you were used to that.

“I just, uh…” you tried to find the most inviting words to say. “…wanted to see if you want to go to dinner with me, Anko, and Genma tonight. We’re planning to go for ramen, and so…you’re invited to join us!”

What you weren’t expecting were Kakashi’s eyes to narrow at you, irritation present even with a mask covering half of his face. “Sorry, no,” he said simply with an icy tone, and he turned his back to you, continuing to walk down the street.

You huffed in irritation yourself. You were tired of Kakashi constantly rejecting you and your friends. You all were nice to him, showed him kindness, and he deflected it over and over and over again.

“Hey,” you barked, and moved to stop him in his path. “What’s your problem?”

Surprise flashed across Kakashi’s face. “What?”

You narrowed your eyes at him this time. “Why are you so cold? What did we ever do to you? Why won’t you just be our friend, Kakashi? It’s obvious we care about you. Just let us do it.”

You stood in the middle of the street facing Kakashi as the silence after your speech hung between you two. People moved around you, glancing at the two teenagers facing off in the middle of the busy movement.

And Kakashi stared at you blankly.

For a long time, too. You both just stared at each other, you with an angry glare and him with his usual disinterest.

And then he looked down briefly before shouldering past you without a word.

You let him go and continued to stand in the middle of the street, thinking about the look in his downcast eyes. The hurt. Whatever he was hiding. You remembered it sat with you for a long time, and you stayed up late thinking about just what Kakashi Hatake was hiding and how you wanted him to let down those walls.

Thinking back on the exchange, there was a humor to it. You were both moody teenagers just figuring out how to navigate your lives. It’s especially funny to think about it now because of the bond you two had built over the years.

The bond you had with Kakashi gave you insight, however. You know now what Kakashi was hiding and what he felt he couldn’t share with his friends. You know now what the hurt behind his eyes and the coldness towards you meant.

Kakashi opened up to you. Shared himself with you. You got to see what his smile looked like, what jokes he liked to tell, what jokes he laughed at. His favorite foods and his least favorite foods. His funniest stories and some of his guarded secrets. Kakashi showed you his patience, kindness, compassion, and love.

There are many bonds that are precious to you, but the bond you now share with Kakashi is one of the most precious.

So how could you not choose gratitude?

“Yo.”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear the back door open. Turning around, your eyes met with Kakashi’s, and you smiled with a warm heart.

“Hey,” you said, and turned to lean back on the porch railing.

Kakashi found his place beside you, his arm pressing closely against your own. His warmth was a familiar feeling. A safe feeling. A good feeling.

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” Kakashi questioned with his deep lilt, though you could hear the curiosity in his voice. You must have been out here for longer than you intended.

You laughed lightly through your nose. “Just…thinking, I guess. Reflecting.”

“Reflecting?” Kakashi repeated with amusement, turning his head to look over at you. “On what?”

You smiled, and turned to meet his eyes. Kind and warm.

You. Us. I’m thinking about precious you are to me. How much I care about you. How glad I am every day that you’re alive. How happy I am to be here with you. How lucky I am to know you.

“Hey,” Kakashi suddenly said, placing his hand on top of your head. “I know that look.”

"What look?"

"You're mopey. Somethings wrong."

You chuckled at that. “I’m not mopey. Just…feeling happy.”

A deep hum of understanding left Kakashi's lips. "Happy huh?"

You nodded. You were happy. Very, very happy.

Kakashi smiled at you, his eyes crinkling your heart swelling. “Good.”

You let Kakashi lead you back inside the house where your friends sat laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

You eventually forgot about all that you were thinking about on the porch, and Genma and Raido had dragged you into a card game with Kotetsu and Izumo. You were so immersed in the game that you failed to notice Kakashi's gaze that kept finding its way to you.

The smile on your face, the crinkle near your eyes as you laughed, the warmth in your voice. To him, those things were so precious to him. Seeing you like this and the joy you bring to others and to him, he is glad he chooses gratitude. It's hard sometimes. God, it's so hard sometimes. But if he can watch you like this for the rest of his life, he'll choose that over and over again.

He'll choose you forever.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi x gn!reader #my work #300 follower celebration

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a3r3n · 2 years

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LONELY HEART (ACT III) // K.DY

Pairing: Doyoung × girl!reader (+ Joy and Taeil)

Genre: angst, suggestive, smut, arranged marriage!AU

Word Count: 4.4k+

⚠️Warnings: infidelity and unprotected sex (which I don’t condone irl. Remember: this is pure fiction!!)

A/N: I wrote the last dialogue listening to Sorry by The Rose and man, the feels :( Also, the last part is smut so please, MINORS DNI. As always, you can read this as a one-shot but if you want to check the other parts I'd be very glad <33

🌼Nct 127 Arranged Marriages!AUs Masterlist

🌼Act I - Act II - Act III

Summary (extract): «Love is such an overwhelming feeling, and you can't share it with anyone. Maybe... I should have let you make your own decisions,» [...]

«Dad, it's okay,» you reassure him, placing your hand on his arm. «Joy loves Doyoung, and I'll find a way to love Taeil, too.»

«Darling, you have a big heart, but I'm afraid it might not have enough space for two people,» he utters, leaving you speechless.

Did he notice everything?

[...] «I'll be fine,» you simply respond, making your way to the door, but your father's voice stops you once again.

«Darling, did we choose the wrong sister?» he asks.

But you don't reply. You only look at him with glossy eyes, then close the door and leave him alone with his – correct – assumptions.

Can I have a second chance? Can I have another dance? Can I start another life with you?

The lyrics of the song get stuck in your head as the melody continues, while you feel a lump in your throat that makes it hard for you to breathe. It's past midnight, your bedroom is dark and silent just like the rest of the house, and you're lying on the bed with your earphones on, listening to the saddest songs on your playlist to find some kind of comfort.

The truth is, that you feel a devastating regret that makes your chest ache, and that's because you've slowly realized you fell in love with Kim Doyoung, the son of one of your father's business partners and, more importantly, your sister's husband. Their marriage had been arranged, but it's clear as day that Joy now loves him, and even if he doesn't reciprocate the feeling, that doesn't mean you had the right to fall in love with him. And you didn't have any right to sleep with him, given that you're engaged yourself. Still, you did it, and now you're filled with remorse and shame, not only for your actions but also because you know you'd probably do it again if you had the chance.

As the song ends, you hear a light knock on the door. You think you must be mistaken and keep scrolling through your playlist to find another song that matches your mood, so you get startled when you notice someone has opened the door.

«What are you doing here?» you whisper-ask, kneeling on the mattress, but the man standing in front of you doesn't answer right away. He closes the door and joins you on the bed instead.

«Doyoung, you should be in your bed with your wife right now, not here!» you exclaim, slightly raising your voice but keeping quiet right afterwards: the last thing you wish is to be caught with your sister's husband in the middle of the night.

«Joy's sleeping,» he says flatly, without looking at you.

«And? You should be sleeping with her!»

«I couldn't sleep,» he replies, his voice firm and cold. «I've been having trouble sleeping since we did... that. And I find it even harder to sleep with her.»

«Don't tell me, you...»

«I haven't had sex with her since that day,» he admits, looking at you straight in the eyes this time.

«But... how? Why? It's been a week! Hasn't she... asked questions? She's your wife: you should do...»

«What should I do, exactly?» he interrupts you. «Should I tell her that I can't sleep with her because the mere thought of having sex with a woman who isn't you makes me angry and frustrated? Should I tell her that you are the only one I wanna touch? The only woman I wanna kiss? Or should I just have sex with her and pretend it's you instead?»

As he speaks, a few tears fall from your eyes, leaving wet lines on your cheeks, and you can't help letting out a sob. But that doesn't stop him from speaking.

«You're the only one I can think about, day and night, and it maddens me because it happened so fast that I couldn't control it! I fell in love with you, and I don't even know how!»

An unbearable silence follows his sudden confession, and you take a few minutes to calm down. Meanwhile, you feel a strong arm encircling your waist as he hides his head in the crook of your neck.

«You... fell in love with me?» you then ask him, hoping you've heard that wrong. Hoping he's just been playing with you so that you can have a reason to hate him and to stop hurting.

«I think... I think I did,» he replies, making you sigh. But you don't say anything, too afraid of the words that might leave your mouth if you dare to speak. You just move away from him, trying to regain what's left of your composure and follow your head for once. When he looks at you with teary eyes, though, you feel your heart crack a little more.

«You should go,» you whisper, trying to sound as cold and distant as possible.

«Why? Don't you reciprocate my feelings?» he asks with a broken voice, but your lack of an answer is enough to make him regain some confidence. «Tell me: don't you love me?» he asks you again with a much firmer tone.

You try to look away, but his fingers on your chin force you to turn your face towards him. «Doyoung, just leave. It's late, I'm tired, and...»

«Do you love me?» he interrupts you, moving closer to your body again.

«That isn't something I should do,» you reply, your heart racing as if it wanted to leap out of your chest and into Doyoung's.

«I'm not asking what you should do. I'm asking if you love me,» he insists.

«Does it matter, though?»

«It matters to me. I wanna know if you feel it too, or if I'm just going insane! If I should give up or keep fighting for you because I don't think I can handle it if...»

«I do, alright? I do!» you cut him off, and he immediately goes silent. «I've fallen in love with you, and I hate it! I hate the way my heartbeat speeds up whenever I see you; I hate that I can't fall asleep because I keep thinking about you, and I hate that I don't know what to do to stop myself from loving you!»

You pause to catch your breath and wipe the tears away from your cheeks. He tightly wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you, making your body tremble at his touch. «You have no idea how hard I tried to get you off my mind,» you continue, your voice interrupted by sobs. «I tried to ignore you, avoid you, do anything I could, not to think about you!»

«Did it work?»

«Does it look like it did to you?» you scoff. «It hurts so much because I need you badly, but I can't have you, and besides, I don't wanna hurt Joy, and the guilt is making me...»

«Shh.» He presses a finger on your lips, then cups your cheeks to make you look at him. «Don't think about her now.»

«How could I not? She's my sister! And your wife!»

«You know that I don't love her.»

«But I do! And I did a terrible thing that I regret every day...»

«You regret having sex with me?» he asks, letting your foreheads touch. Your faces are so close now that you can feel his warm breath on your skin, and if someone walked in on you, you'd have a hard time justifying your position.

«I don't regret having sex with you, Doyoung. I... regret doing it with my sister's husband. I'm an awful person, and I...»

«Stop blaming it all on you: it takes two to tango, you know? That means it's as much my fault as it is yours.»

«You don't seem to regret it, though,» you state bitterly, removing his hands from your face.

«That's because I accepted that I love you, not her. If only you did the same, you would...»

«I can't do the same! She's my sister! If she finds out what happened between us, it won't affect you because you're not in love with her! But she will always be my sister, and I doubt she'd ever forgive me!»

Neither of you speaks for quite some time, only glancing at each other from time to time and sighing in frustration. Then, he grabs your hand and holds it tight before speaking.

«Listen carefully now. If you want to, we can pretend nothing happened. I'll leave you alone and act normal, not even getting close to you. I'm in so much pain just thinking about it, but if you agree, I'll do it. I'll spend the rest of my life with Joy, you'll marry Taeil, and we'll forget about each other. I'll do it if you promise you'll feel better and stop blaming yourself for everything.»

His words cause a stabbing pain in your chest, and more tears well up in your eyes.

Why is it so difficult to make a decision?

If you were in a different situation, you would have done what was right and fair, especially if your sister was involved. But when it comes to Doyoung, every rational part of you flees, and the only thought of his words becoming true hurts you.

«Tell me now: do you want this?» he finally asks you.

«It would be the best solution,» you say, out of breath.

«Is that a yes?»

You look at each other for a brief moment, then your gaze shifts to his mouth, as does his. Not even another second goes by, and your lips are attached to his in the most bittersweet kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he lets you sit on his lap, moving his hands from your hips to your thighs and then back to your waist.

«That's a yes,» you whisper between kisses. «After tonight.»

Needless to say, neither of you kept that promise. After that night, you and Doyoung tried to avoid each other for a while, but you could resist for only a couple of days before he had you pinned on your bed under his body, muffling your moans with his lips not to let the whole house know what you were doing. You always felt an awful sense of guilt afterwards, especially when you saw your sister so happy and excited about your wedding, more involved in its planning than you were. But then midnight would come, and you would forget your sorrow temporarily.

You didn't know what excuse Doyoung would give Joy, but he started to spend almost every night with you. So, after weeks and weeks of "one last time"s and "we'll stop tomorrow"s, it was clear to both that you wouldn't be able to end it any time soon. And when your father called you to have a private conversation, you began to feel the consequences of your actions for the first time.

«Darling,» your father says as he embraces you. «You've come.»

«I have.» You try your best to look normal, maybe more confident and bold, but some light anxiety threatens to ruin everything. «What did you want to talk to me about?»

«Well, I've got good news!» he exclaims, sitting on an armchair while you sit on the couch right next to him.

«Oh, have you?» you ask, suspicious.

«Yes, well... Mr. Moon and I realized that you and Taeil didn't have a proper announcement of your engagement. So we thought we could organize a soiree for you, with your friends and our colleagues!»

It takes you a while to absorb and understand every word he’s said, and when you finally do, an uncontrollable fear grips your heart. «But dad,» you whine, trying not to reveal your real feelings about that idea. «You didn't do this for Joy and Doyoung, and they didn't have a proper engagement announcement either!»

«That's because she got married too soon, and we didn't have enough time to plan anything. But your wedding is in a couple of months, and we'll stay here in Seoul until then. So why not take advantage of this opportunity?»

You sigh: you know he's right, and you have no acceptable excuse to decline his proposition. «I guess... I guess we could do it,» you say softly, looking away. After weeks of living in an apparently never-ending midnight dream with Doyoung, you realize it's time to wake up. And unfortunately, the reality that awaits you is frightening and disappointing.

«Is there anything I should know?» your father adds, noticing the bitter expression on your face. You shake your head, ready to leave, but he continues to speak. «You know, I still remember the day I married your mother like it was yesterday. I remember I was sweating as if I had run a marathon, and my hands couldn't stop shaking. It was all because I was finally marrying the love of my life,» he says. «Love is such an overwhelming feeling, and you can't share it with anyone. Maybe... I should have let you make your own decisions,» he admits, his eyes filled with regret.

«Dad, it's okay,» you reassure him, placing your hand on his arm. «Joy loves Doyoung, and I'll find a way to love Taeil, too.»

«Darling, you have a big heart, but I'm afraid it might not have enough space for two people,» he utters, leaving you speechless.

Did he notice everything?

You suddenly feel the air getting heavier, making it difficult to breathe, and you stand up in a rush to leave the room as soon as possible. «I'll be fine,» you simply respond, making your way to the door, but your father's voice stops you once again.

«Darling, did we choose the wrong sister?» he asks.

But you don't reply. You only look at him with glossy eyes, then close the door and leave him alone with his – correct – assumptions.

«How could he possibly have noticed?» Doyoung asks, hugging you from behind as you scan your reflection in the mirror.

«I don't know, but I didn't dare to ask. Maybe he was just joking,» you reply, turning around to make sure that the back of your skirt didn't have any holes or stains. As you do so, though, you bump into Doyoung's chest, making him chuckle.

«I don't think he was joking.»

«Me neither, but I don't wanna think about it now,» you cut him off, reaching for your purse. «All I need to focus on is the fundraiser I'll hold at my wedding, and today's meeting will define it. I can't lose my concentration,» you state firmly.

«I'll never understand why you dedicate yourself so much to charity work,» he whispers as he places his hands on your hips and looks at you in the mirror. «But it makes you look even more stunning.»

«You know my father wants to throw an "engagement announcement" party for Taeil and me?»

«I know. My father told me,» he sighs. «All of my friends will be there, and if your dad understood that there's something between us, I can't imagine what they're gonna think.»

«Don't do anything stupid, please,» you warn him, seriously concerned.

«I promise I'll do my best. But it's hard to hide my feelings when you always look so beautiful,» he says softly, turning you around and grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger.

«Doyoung,» you call him, sighing. «I remind you that Joy and Taeil will be there too.»

Now it's his turn to sigh. Without saying anything, he pulls you closer and presses his lips against yours, in a sweet yet painful kiss.

But you back up almost immediately, knowing that anyone could walk in. «Doyoung, it's the middle of the day, and Joy should be here at any moment!» you scold him, but he ignores your reprimand and brings your lips back together, squeezing his grip on your waist as your hands tug on his shirt.

You let out a moan when you feel his fingers sneaking under your skirt, reaching the fabric of your underwear. «What can I do to have you all to myself?» he whispers, gently stroking your clothed core.

«Nothing,» you mutter, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to create more friction against his hand. «Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do.»

Your words should be bitter and painful, but the situation you find yourself in makes you sound tempting and needy, and when you move your hand from his chest to press it against his growing bulge, he can't help himself and pulls you in for another kiss, leading you to the bed. In the blink of an eye, he's already hovering over you while his mouth leaves wet spots on your neck and shoulders, and his hand plays with the hem of your dress, making you beg for more.

«Doyoung...» you moan his name, making him grunt in response, but he doesn't have time to do anything else as you hear your sister's voice coming from the hallway. «It's Joy,» you say alarmingly, pushing him away. You hurriedly fix yourself up while he tries to hide the obvious signs of his arousal.

«Here you are!» Joy exclaims, entering the room. «We've set up this meeting just for you, and you dare to be late?»

«I'm sorry, Joy, you're- you're right,» you stutter, grabbing your purse and exiting the bedroom quickly.

Only then does your sister notice her husband's presence. «What were you doing here?» she asks him, brow furrowed.

«I was giving her some advice on what to say and not to say during the meeting. You know how she is: I don't want her to cause any trouble,» he simply answers, following you out of the room.

«Honey, you are... flawless,» Joy says, looking at your reflection in the mirror, but you don't utter a word. You've done nothing tiresome, yet you feel exhausted and wish you could just lie in bed, close your eyes, and sleep forever.

In a few minutes, the house will be packed with wealthy entrepreneurs waiting for the first engagement announcement of the year. In a few minutes, you'll be surrounded by dozens of businessmen and businesswomen who'll congratulate you and your fiance with a smile of convenience while you'll wish to be left alone with just one person.

The only one you can't have.

An unbearable weight presses against your chest, and you take a deep sigh to prevent the tears from falling. No one has to know how you're really feeling, least of all your sister.

«Is everything alright? Don't you like the dress?» Joy asks you, noting the blank look on your face.

«N-no, the dress is perfect,�� you stutter, regaining your composure. «I'm just... excited about tonight.»

You give her your best smile, then your mother and Doyoung walk into the room, saving you from that embarrassing moment. Your gaze meets his for a split second before you look away, afraid you'll burst into tears if you have any kind of interaction with him. Along with your chest, your head and every limb of your body feel heavy now.

As your mother and sister take you by the arm and drag you out of the room, you hope the evening goes by quickly.

Because you don't know how long you're going to resist.

As soon as you enter the dining room, you feel a burst of heat running through your entire body. Many faces turn towards you, and just as many pairs of eyes scrutinize you with interest, probably wondering if you'll measure up to your sister. If you’re good enough for Taeil, as she is for Doyoung. You see your fiance approaching you, followed by his parents, and you also notice Joy wrapping her arm around Doyoung's as she watches you with happiness written all over her face. You try to return her smile, avoiding Doyoung's gaze, and then grab Taeil's arm.

You never leave your fiance's side throughout the entire evening, either because people you don't know keep engaging you in random conversations or because he seems to prevent you from going anywhere too far away from him. At least, you somehow manage to overcome the suffocating sensation that was making it impossible for you to breathe, and even if you still want to flee as far as possible, your rational self ends up winning this time.

Every now and then, you and Doyoung exchange a few glances but nothing more, fearful that even the most insignificant interaction between the two of you could betray you.

It's almost ten when your father and Mr. Moon decide that it's time to officially announce your engagement.

If it weren’t for you being stuck in the bathroom for quite some time now.

And, of course, it's a pure coincidence that your sister is being held by some of her friends; therefore, your parents kindly ask Doyoung to check in on you and see if you're feeling well and if they can start the announcement.

As you hear his warm voice calling your name from behind the door, you do your best to cover the traces left by your tears, but when he enters the bathroom, he still notices your red eyes and broken voice.

«Are you okay?» he asks you, gently stroking your cheeks. «Why are you crying?»

«I'm not crying,» you reply, but as soon as you say this, another tear falls down your face, making him chuckle.

«You sure you aren't?»

«Okay, maybe I cried a little,» you admit, covering your eyes and cheeks.

«Would you like to tell me why?»

«B-because...» you begin, but then all of the evening's pent-up frustration gets the better of you, and you nearly explode. «Because I'm sad, of course! Why would I be crying? I'm sad, upset, hurt, and I don't wanna be here! I don't want...» Your babbling gets suddenly interrupted by a pair of lips crashing on yours, making you forget about all your worries for a brief moment. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and push your hips towards him, shivering as his hands touch your waist and then stroke your back, drawing you closer to his body.

«I know you don't want it,» he mumbles between kisses. «I know you don't want to marry him, but I promise you we'll find a way to make this work.»

Then his fingers sneak under your dress and tease the band of your underwear. «Doyoung, this can't work. It never will,» you say, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his boxers.

«Why are you saying this?» he asks, doing the same with your panties, which end up on the bathroom floor.

«Because it's the truth. You're married to my sister, and I'll be married to Taeil soon. How are we supposed to make it work?» Your voice cracks as you utter those words, but you don't stop touching him while he lifts up the lower part of your dress to gain better access to your entrance.

«But I love you,» he whispers, clutching your hips as he enters you. «I love you.»

«I love you too,» you reply with a soft moan. «But we can't keep doing this.»

His thrusts begin slowly, but as soon as the realization hits him, they become hard and deep. «Are you saying you want to put an end to it?» he grunts, making you sit on the counter as he thrusts roughly into you, making you gasp every time he hits that spot inside you that only he knows about.

«I am,» you answer, digging your nails into his back and leaning your head on his shoulder.

«For good?»

One of his hands is now on your lower back, pressing you closer to his body, while the other wanders on your body until it stops right around your neck, forcing you to look at him as he slightly grips it.

«For good,» you say, pulling him closer to crash your lips against his as he softly moans your name. «We won't see each other ever again, Doyoung. We won't talk ever again, either.»

«I'll see you in my dreams, then,» he whispers, leaving wet kisses and barely visible marks on your jawline and neck.

«I won't even look at you.»

You whimper when one of his thrusts hits you harder than the previous ones, and your grip on his back tightens.

«I'll look at you from afar. I'll look at you trying to be happy with another man. A man who isn't me.»

His hands move to your thighs, gently stroking them as he keeps kissing you, leaving you only a few seconds to catch your breath before his tongue is back in your mouth.

«And I'll never think about you,» you utter, now grabbing his shoulders and pulling away from him a little so that you can see his face. «I'll forget you.»

«And I'll think about you every single day. I'll always remember these gleaming eyes, your soft voice, gentle touch, your...»

«Doyoung, please, don't make this any more difficult than it already is.» You sound whiny, and you’re not sure if it's because of how good he's making you feel or because of the pain in your chest at the thought of leaving him.

It's all such a sweet, long agony.

«We're ending everything between us while having sex... it can't get any more difficult than this. It can't be harder than making love to you while knowing it's the last time I'll ever touch you, kiss you, or… feel you like this.»

Once again, he pulls you as close to his body as he can, as if he wants to be lost inside you. One hand goes to your hair, and he feels your walls clenching around him when his grip on your locks tightens. Then your gazes meet again, and you get stuck in his eyes.

«I'll never stop loving you,» you whisper as more tears fill your eyes again.

«Neither will I. I'll always love you.»

Your lips meet his for the thousandth time, and the kiss becomes more hurried as you feel a warm, tight knot in your stomach. «Doyoung, please, harder... I'm... I'm about to...»

«Can you hold it a little longer, please? I'm not ready to let you go yet.»

You gather all your strength to do as he wishes, trying not to focus on his deep, fast thrusts and how good they make you feel. Your whole body is wrapped around his, and your moans echo all over the room.

«Doyoung, I can't...» you try to say, but the words die in your throat as he thrusts into you one last time, pushing you over the edge and allowing himself to come too.

Minutes of silence go by, silence filled with the only sound of your pants, but neither of you seems willing to leave the other's arms. When you lift your head to look at him, you see tears streaming down his face, and the stinging pain in your chest returns, making your heart bleed.

«Don't leave me, please,» he begs, resting his forehead on yours without breaking eye contact.

«Never.»

147 notes · View notes

berryblissbby · 3 years

Text

Fiercest; devoted;

Pairing: Princess!reader x Guard/Warrior! Hajime Iwaizumi

Word Count: 9,500

Warnings: Use of blades and knives

A/N: Sooo this is the longest thing I've ever posted on tumblr and one of the longest fics I've ever written. Ive only even written a handful of things to completion before so please be kind (⩾﹏⩽). I'm currently reading TOG and this story was born from me trying to process HOF so if you see some parallels just look away! This is fanfic we borrow, not steal. And finally I must say, must I write a plot? Can’t they just learn to tenderly love each other in the end?

AND! AND! Here's the pinterest board i made for this fic, i'm so sorry that all the references are white people omg, pinterest has shit diversity.

Summary:

The moonlight won’t let you forget, the sunlight brightens the truth.

You are his princess, and he is your warrior. Raised together Hajime is your greatest source of comfort when he suddenly pulls away, igniting your temper and flaring animosity towards each other. Either under the light of the moon, or the rays of the sun, you’ll fight it out, just like always.

You were the princess of an empire. Heir of the kingdom that was the pinnacle of learning, healing and safety for anyone who wished to stay there. Books, music, and art were all treasured, and culture was allowed to thrive and breathe. Your court was beloved, held strong by devotion and loyalty, “the strongest court in the world” the people said. You were loved as well, by your parents and their people. Adored, you were their future.

Hajime was a lesser by his kingdom's terms. In a kingdom of magic wielders, he was unwanted nobility. So he was sent to you, to your kingdom, where compared to your human court, with a little magical blood in him, he would be strong. He was to be your guard, to keep you safe, and when you were ready to rule your bond would be unbreakable.

You were nine and he was thirteen . Delightfully shy- to adults- you lacked true friends. Hiding behind your mother, father or nursemaid, you could be found with your nose in a book. Even at celebrations it was the same, unless you convinced your mother or father to dance with you, much to everyone’s joy.

But then you had Hajime, and even though you were scared, with red rung hands and shifting eyes, he danced with you. Uncoordinated and silly, gentle smiles turning to grins and grins to giggles, you landed on the floor in a heap of laughter. Everyone could tell- when you were with him your timidness melts, and is met with ferocious quips and laughter full of love- that you would grow to be a shining queen. You didn’t worry, your child princess self, because when you were sat on your heaviest burden, your own little throne, he would be behind you. With his chest puffed up, his daggers sharpened and shining. Already your fiercest warrior and most devoted protector.

You grew together, his dark eyes were always watching you, blanketing you in warmth. When you learned how to fight and hold a dagger correctly he practiced with you, until your coordination and form were perfect. When you were strong enough for a sword he was right there as well, much to the captain of the guards dismay. You practiced together, but he never let you win. It was infuriating, his determined expression and unrelenting jabs. But “it’s for your own good” and you knew you'd best him one day.

He snuck into your room, when your chambers were too big, and the darknesses fingers too long. He stayed in the chair in the corner, and listened to you talk until your words slurred and you fell asleep. Your maids usually find him still there, curled up, in the morning.

He was right beside you when you learned how to ride a horse by yourself at ten years old, with shaky hands and gasping breaths. And when you fell off- the one and only time- he picked you right off the ground, dusted off your dress, and growled at the stable master.

He wiped the tears off your face as fast as they fell. Your little hands gripping the front of his shirt begging him not to leave.

Hajime pulled you to his chest, shushing you again. It was awkward, just two little kids clinging to each other, one barely old enough to comfort the other. But you needed him nonetheless.

He was right there the day you got it, hanging off the rails of the round pin, pumping his fist in triumph as you and your horse trotted in circles.

Looking over, a grin breaking across your face, you met his own grin. It sent shivers down your spine, blooming in your tummy. You could see it, with that feral grin on his face, you understood what type of man he would be. He truly was a warrior.

He stood behind you when you first attended state meetings with your father, against the wall with the other guards. You had been terrified. You hadn’t known, really, what they were talking about, and you had been scared that they would ask you questions you wouldn’t know the answer to. But Hajime was there, and that made your words a little more steady.

He was eighteen and you fourteen, budding into adolescence, and it seemed to be everyone’s business. He was turning into a man and you couldn’t help but notice, not that you would ever speak of it.

He was leading you horse, walking you around the gardens. He liked to pick and choose when you should be treated as a princess. With swords in your hands he tended to ignore it, but at times like these, you were an heiress and he was an indentured servant.

“I don’t understand”

“It’s a tragedy, it's supposed to make you sad!” You say. “It’s about the ‘what if’s’ and the yearning, you have to focus on the yearning.” You giggle at your words, as you drag out your syllables.

You were telling him about your latest book, and how it had left you heart broken for the two lovers. With bad timing, and greedy people stealing their chances at love, they could never be together.

You always told Hajime about your books, you couldn’t help talking about the ones that you couldn’t get out of your head. He was an amazing listener, and you appreciated him dearly for it. Even though his face would remain blank and his eyes would shift all around you, looking for threats, he would always pay attention.

He scoffed. “ Well, what if I don’t care about yearning, what if they’re just stupid? The answer was right in front of them.”

“That’s not the point Hajime,” you pout.

He scowls up at you, stopping your horse.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh at both of your dramatics.

“Just don’t let me catch you doing anything dumb like that,” he doesn’t let you answer, starting your horse walking again. ¨Idiots.¨

¨Hajime!¨

You appreciate him, in every sense, always protecting you, in body and soul.

He was twenty and you sixteen. Your temper was epic, it shook the stone walls and snapped as easily as the ribbons on your dresses. But your heart was just as easily broken. You were a slave to your emotions and you could feel it, festering in you. You would never let it show to the court, but your family knew, and so did Hajime. There was little left of the girl who used to hide behind skirts.

You didn´t know if it was a gradual process, or if you woke up to it one day, but suddenly you couldn´t stop watching him. You couldn´t stop admiring him. He was so big, and strong, and he made you laugh so hard. His hands were soft, and large. He was smart, catching things you hadn’t in meetings, and his voice would send shivers down your spine when he whispered in your ear, telling you things about the people you were surrounded by. Things that he had learned to keep you safe; precautions. You couldn't stop your cheeks from heating up anymore, they were perpetually flushed, and it was impossible to hold his gaze. Things that wouldn't have mattered before made you stutter. But what set you off, was when you would look up to him, when you expected to meet those cool eyes, they would be somewhere else.

Before, when you had been upset, you would drag Hajime to the training rooms and throw him a sword. He would let you get a few hits in, before winning, of course. But only after you got everything you needed out. He was the cool water to your raging disposition. He had a sternness to him now, even though his fiery character could rival yours sometimes, he knew when to hold back. And when he did, his easy answers and cool voice were equally frustrating as they were calming. You shared more together while in those practice rooms swinging swords than anywhere else. But now you had lost the thing that had made it better.

Now you only saw him when mandatory, behind your throne and next to you at meals. He seemed to be more interested in the guards and other warriors than you, so you ate in silence and read alone at night. You eventually requested a new guard, and your parents said no. You two were friends, and he was sent here for you, that would not be changing overnight. But he didn't feel like your Hajime anymore, your friend or defender. Because he wasn't paying attention to you anymore, not like he was supposed to. Or how you wanted him too.

It made you burn when you looked up and he wasn't looking at you. The embers in your chest that would flare when you didn't get your way, when someone disagreed with you, when Hajime said something brash, were a roaring fire. You didn't understand why things had changed, where it had come from.

You saw it, when his eyes met the older courtiers- well, older compared to you. You saw the eyes of the women on him, how they trailed over his broad back and strong arms. You knew that the lady’s had started taking their walks through the section of the palace they had previously thought of as unpalatable. They would bat their eyelashes and fan their fans in front of them as they walked past the training rooms, hoping to catch Hajime in only a thin damp shirt. It was infuriating.

You took to ignoring him, long lonely months. It was intense, the war between you both, silently throwing glances at each other, both sets of eyes holding promises of worse words to come. He was a weight behind you at all times, dragging your heart deeper into a pit of solitary despair. He left you whenever he could afford, never letting your parents or the other guards see. You were kept safe, but it wasn’t comforting like before. The walks to your rooms after dinner were the worst, the internal battle inside you was tearing you to shreds. Should you talk to him? Confront him? Bear a dagger and rough it out? But he would leave you by your door and walk away before you could decide anything at all.

You had burned too bright, the fire in you now gone. The fury that had kept you warm was nothing but a cold pit in your chest.

You were all alone, every day that knowledge split you open like a cold blade. You were determined to stay away from him, to not bother him, since he obviously didn’t want anything to do with you. But one day, it all became too much.

You had attended a dinner tonight, with a distant royal family. And they had said things to you that they had no right to say. They had spoken as if they had known you. They knew things about you that made your skin crawl. All of those things were somewhat common knowledge, but then they had started making assumptions about you, asking you things that if you were a queen you would have known the answers to. But you weren’t, you were a stupid little princess, with no one. And you felt so small.

The only thing that made it worse was when you realized you were bracing for something. After every one of their comments, you were waiting for one of Hajime's raging blows. For him let his temper go, just a little. To tell them how it was, to defend you. But it didn’t come, you looked over and he wasn’t paying attention. What happened to your warrior? Your watcher? Your protector?

You remembered a conversation between you and Hajime, before. It was late at night, Hajime was laying on the rug in front of your heart, his arm thrown over his eyes. Your book set to the side.

The candles had all burned low, but the fire stood strong. It casted a blood orange glow across half of his body, the other half a stark blue. You didn’t know if he was asleep, and took your time admiring him.

The side away from you, from your vantage point lounging on the couch, was flushed. His mouth was pulled down slightly, but it didn’t scare you. That looked like you’re Hajime, with sharp teeth and a barking laugh. Who felt everything thrown at him.

You didn’t know how he hid it so well, but he really did experience everything; he might conceal it, but it was in there.

You looked at the other side of him, the one in a cold blue light from the moon coming in your windows. You wondered if that was what other people saw, the straight backed man, who knew who he was and what he stood for.

You said his name gently, he grunted in response.

“Do you remember… that tragedy I read years ago, about the two lovers…” you explained a little more, trailing off.

He took a deep breath saying, “ yes, with the idiots.”

You don’t bother hiding your pursed lips before you say, “what… what would you do in their situation, since they’re such idiots.” You pluck at a thread on the couch, not looking at him.

From your peripheral vision you could see him turn his head to look at the flames, and suddenly a wave of anxiety hits you, you're scared to know his real answer, his honest one.

You get up and walk to the window, and the stark difference in temperature makes you shudder. It was starting to snow, just barely. The moon was so bright, causing the gardens below your window to glow. The marble walkways mirroring back the moon.

“I would…” you look back at him, with a hand still on the window sill, and almost gasp. “I would run too, because I wouldn’t know any better, just like them.” He had sat up and turned away from the fire, his whole front blue and cold.

You couldn’t stand the window anymore, and went to sit by the hearth.

You think he’s run. He’s carried himself as far away from you as he can without abandoning his responsibilities. The gap between you is the largest thing you have ever felt. A dark ravine, and on the other side was him, with his back turned to you. Everything is blue, the moon won’t let you forget, it refuses to shroud out the light, so you can’t remain ignorant. You hate it. And every day, you come closer and closer to falling into that deep crack in the earth, reaching out your arms, stretching your fingers, feeling the rocks shift under your feet, pebbles falling into the dark pit, maybe to never hit the bottom.

You couldn’t calm yourself even hours later, your mind would go back to dinner when you tried to read, and you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, when it was too late to brandish swords or you were too young to hold one, Hajime and you would walk the palace halls. Running from guards not to be caught, jumping on chairs in forgotten sitting rooms, daring each other to grab things from the kitchen. All before putting his grumpy cool mask back on and escorting you back to your rooms. But you never dared walk the halls yourself, you were always too scared. Hajime... Hajime, he would always take you, and make you feel better.

You had been pacing your rooms, trying to find a way to fix your hurt. Trying to come up with any solution. Sitting down on your bed, you put your head in your hands, pleading with the tears not to fall. You wanted him to make you feel better again, you wanted to feel safe with him behind you, not cold and unwanted.

You didn't know what to do, really, you told yourself as you snuck your way into his rooms, holding your breath the whole way there, still scared. Closing the door behind you you leaned against it, and for a moment, it felt like before. He smelled the same and the room was so warm it made you shiver in satisfaction. But he was a warrior, so your moment of peace didn’t last long as he rolled over, almost reaching for a weapon before he realized who you were.

You tried smiling, but seeing him like that, with his dark hair messy, and cheeks ruddy from sleep just hurt you more. You couldn’t stop the quiver in your lip.

“You've been crying,” he said, pushing himself off the bed slightly. You tried not to watch the blanket fall off his shoulders.

Nodding, you turn your head, wiping away tears with your wrist, not looking him in the eyes. You took a moment, trying to calm yourself and almost took a step towards him, but you caught yourself. That made the tears come faster. If things had been like before, you would have ran to him. You won't have hesitated, you wouldn't be bracing for something foul to come out of his mouth.

But those things didn't matter, not when he finally sat up and opened his arms letting you throw yourself at him.

He rocked you back and forth, pulling you onto his lap, cooing at you. “What’s wrong, what’s the matter my princess.” The vibrato in his voice echoed through you, made you want to melt, but it was also painfully familiar.

His kind words only made you cry harder. How long had it been since you had heard him speak to you at all? And it had to have been even longer since he had been kind to you like this, only reserved for when you were totally alone, and desperately in need.

There was so much wrong, but you could only find it in yourself to shrug. He let out a scoff. Pulling you back, you tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin to make you look up. He swiped a thumb under your eye, catching a falling tear. You almost smiled at his frown, how you had missed it, when it only promised light scolding, not cruel disregard.

“I j-just... want you t-to m-make me feel better,” the last word comes out in another desperate sob and he pulled you to him again.

He hummed saying, “Don't tell me someone did this to you.”

You shake your head, burying your face in his chest. You didn't want to face the truth, that he had been so neglectful that he really hadn't seen what had happened at dinner.

“Let's get you to bed, okay?”

You desperately nod, you had missed this so much. You had missed his kindness so much. You almost felt like little kids again, and he led you through the dim hallways clutching your hand. Like when you had first met.

You woke up alone.

Cold, sober reality washed over you like water, slithering down your spine. Oh. Things were not back to before. You hated Before, it taunted you. It laughed at you as you broke each time the word crossed your mind. Before was better, the most shining and brilliant version of what you had lost.

He was escorting you across the castle, and you battled with yourself again. Just like always but worse, now that you knew he was still in there. The contrast ached more. You almost didn't say anything, but you passed by a set of windows and happened to look outside.

It was spring, almost summer, and everything was green again. The hills outside rippled as the green grass swayed. Beyond the grass were wildflowers. You wish you and Hajime could ride out there and lay in them. But you couldn't- or, he wouldn’t.

That makes you stop for some reason, and you walk up to the window looking out. He stops too, remaining behind you.

“Hajime,” You say quietly. He doesn't say anything, facing forward.

He wouldn’t look at you. He refused until you grabbed him as hard as you could with your little hands, not holding back when your nails dug into his wrist and forearm.

He tried pulling back, but you wouldn’t let him. Grabbing one of your wrists he made you yield.

“I’m not... we’re not going to talk about this, not yet,” he said the words with shifting eyes, not able to meet yours for too long. “I can’t.”

You had never minded him when he was his serious self, because you would always see the loving side of him eventually. When you were alone, when it mattered. But this, the firm cold shoulder, it wasn’t the protective one you were used to, it was cruel.

“Well,” you spit out, ripping your wrist from his grip, “ when you can finally tell me your secret, it better be important, because right now I don’t appreciate being ignored- ignored and...” you struggled to find the right words, your chin quivering, eyes filling with tears. Unloved? Unprotected?

“Whatever this is,” you gesture at him, the venom in your voice dissipating with each syllable. Until each blink yielded more tears.

¨You´re dismissed,¨ you tell him, you could make it to tea just fine by yourself.

You were furious, angry, livid. The only thing that dosed the ever flaming embers in your chest was the announcement your father made. You had known it was coming, but him telling everyone solidified it.

He had called you and Hajime to his private rooms a few nights before, you two had met in front of the door.

You were to decide which member of your court would take the oath to be your protector and advisor. Everyone knew it was going to be Hajime, but sometimes a ruler didn't have such loyal followers, and they would choose from a selection. But your father wanted to follow tradition and tell you properly. You had come of age, it would be time for you to take up more responsibility, and this was the first step.

You could feel him standing next to you, facing your father and mother where they sat. The emers in you were doused, replaced by a rush of freezing water that contrasted your hot tears. You couldn't imagine spending the rest of your life like this. You would be a horrible queen if this was the future that awaited you.

Before he made his oath to you, there was to be your birthday celebration. A frantic day of eating, receiving gifts and dancing. Who would you dance with?

Tight lipped, you thanked your parents and walked out. You could hear Hajime behind you, and you didn't try to quiet your ragged breathing as the tears flowed.

They had threatened to fall when your father stood up at dinner and told your court.

It was your birthday, you hadn't danced with Hajime, and you always danced with Hajime. Everytime you could, you let your face relax and your smile melted away. You were exhausted. But someone asked you to dance.

The man no older than Hajime, with fluffy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, asked you with a hypnotizing smile. He spun you around and said the most outrageous things in your ears, you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face.

You would pass a couple and he would share their most treacherous secrets. Nothing too bad, just outlandish enough that you would blush and want to hit him- only lightly.

He asked you again and again, until you finally had to say no, your face was hot, your skin was covered in a layer of perspiration and you were sure that your hair had fallen out of its updo.

You made your way back to your seat on the dais, next to your parents. You didn't realize that Hajime had moved from his spot on the wall, blending in with the other guards, to stand behind you.

Taking a seat, you hear a scoff. Straightening your back you almost don't believe it. Maybe it was the exercise, or the fact that you were feeling loose after laughing so hard. Or maybe it was because you were actually having fun, but you found that tonight- tonight you had energy.

You could feel it in your chest, that scoff has blown a harsh wind over those embers, fanning them a glowing orange.

“Yes, Hajime,” you say, slightly turning your head in his direction. You tried to keep your tone light.

He grunted, not saying anything. You place your hands in your lap. He won't even give you words.

“Tell me,” you say, face blank, friendly tone gone.

“Nothing, Princess.”

How dare he scoff at you and pretend you were the crazy one.

You spun in your seat. There he was, in his nice uniform, with your kingdom's mascot and colors. Your mascot and colors. Your kingdom's mascot and colors. The kingdoms that you would rule, mascot and colors.

The blades strapped around him were intricate; polished and shrap. He looked straight forward, not acknowledging you. He looks good, something inside of your chest whispered, but was whisked away as your eyes caught on the dagger on his belt, with the same color jews as his uniform

You stood up in a flurry, so fast that he only had time to brace himself before you were grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your level. Nails digging into him all the while.

“Follow me,” you say through gritted teeth. Pulling back looking him in the eyes, you tell him exactly what he needed to know. It was an order, an order from his future ruler. The exchange was so fast you knew no one would see it.

Spinning on your heel you walked down the dais and straight into the crowd of dancing people as they desperately tried to not step on you.

“Princess,” Your father said from his seat behind you. You knew he was objecting at your rudeness, but you didn't care, the act of disobedience spurring you on. You hear the music halt, only for a second, but you keep moving.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you made your way further and further towards the doors out of the hall. Each breath wasn’t enough oxygen, and your vision spotted, but the chills rippling over your skin were addicting.

You knew Hajime was behind you.

You didn't answer any of his furious remarks as you grabbed his forearm, dragging him through the palace. You turned down a certain hall and he stopped talking.

You threw open the doors of the practice hall, letting go of Hajime’s arm. Marching down the long open space, so big it could probably hold dozens of bodies, you open one of the cabinets across from the row of tall windows. The room was dim, and you don´t think of lighting candles.

Selecting two swords, you slide one to him across the floor, to where he stood still at the door. He stopped it carefully with his boot, as it spun towards him.

Looking up from the sword, he says, ”No.”

“Pick up the sword, Hajime,” You say from across the room, sword in your hand. You’re not sure why you threw it at him, he already had one on his hip. Maybe because it was unfair, that he could always have one and you could not.

He scoffed at you, leaving it on the ground.

“Pick it up,” You growled.

He didn't have time to roll his eyes before the twin dagger to the one on his belt landed in the door frame, next to his head.

You watched his eyes flick to your hand, smoothing out your skirts, hiding the slit that led to your thigh. You switched your sword back to your dominant hand, breathing already ragged, not looking away from those sharp eyes as he picked the sword off the ground.

You stayed exactly where you were as he walked towards you.

“You are b-”

“I don't want to hear any of what you have to say about my behavior.”

He rolled his eyes, stopping in front of you, getting into his proper stance. You mimicked him.

“You are being a brat.”

You swing for him, and he easily blocks, sending your sword arcing through the air, still in your hand. He sends a shallow jab at you, which you take a step back from.

“What right do you have judging the people I spend my time with?” You say, jabbing right back at him, which he blocks with a sweep of his sword. “And when am I not?”

You go for his left, which he dodges, and as he came around spinning to face you again, he swung low at the wide skirts of your dress. You hear it rip and feel the cold air hit your calves. Taking two steps back he observes you, lowering his sword, intentions clear.

He thought that would end your little fight.

He thought that the ruining of your dress would make you stop, that you were shallow enough to ask for his mercy just because of a tear in your skirts. It made you furious, knowing he wasn't taking this seriously.

You feint lunging at him, he swung from the right, and you blocked, swords suspended in the air for just a moment.

“Stop it.” You say, voice almost a whisper.

You grunt and pull back. Circling each other, you watch as the moonlight brightens his face. The circling continues, and no words are exchanged, giving you time to think about what had been said, only making you more upset.

You had faults, in moments like these, you couldn't hide your next move, anger making you just want to act. You swing at him, and he blocks. While your sword is up, he takes the chance to roll, and shove you backwards away from him. A dirty trick.

“Stop what?” He says to you, looking at you from where you had stumbled a few steps away, face blank.

You looked at him, with his back to the windows, face shrouded in darkness, and you hated him.

Before you could think about it, before you could flinch and regret your actions, your arms were arching up, throwing your sword across the room. Watching as Hajime involuntarily followed its arch through the air, sinning blade spinning over handle, until it landed in a clatter. You watched him all the while, and saw his shocked expression before he could hide it.

“I am your princess,” You growl, his head snapping back to you.

“I am your princess!” You yell, taking a step towards him, chest pressed to his.

“I am your Princess!” You scream, shoving him backwards toward the large windows.

You pressed against him, leaning him back against the window sill. You stretch to your tiptoes, your hands clutching his shirt as you stare into his eyes. With all the venom you can manage, panting, you say, “I am your princess! I am your princess and you will do as I say!”

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. You barely hear his words, or his sword clatter to the ground, your breathing too ragged, your heart beat too loud. You could feel it, in every part of your body, it echoed through you.

And in that moment you can almost see him. That flash in his eyes, that tone of voice, his breath fanning over your face. He was your Hajime, only for a second.

“Stop it,” you say, losing momentum with each word, “stop it.”

He finally tugs himself free, ripping your hands from him. He doesn't let go as he presses you a few steps back and leans down to look into your eyes.

His eyes were dark, and you lost him again, the Hajime you want. You yearned to bang on his chest and beg for him back, but you don't dare break the delicate dance you two were in.

“I see them,” you hiss, trying to get in his face, “I see how they look at you.”

“Who?” He spits.

“Your courtiers.” You say the words as if it's a curse.

He throws your hands down, taking steps to the door, still facing you.

“Nothing?” You ask. “You never have anything to say anymore.”

“Why does it matter?” Squaring his shoulders he looks at you straight on.

“Wh-”

“Why does it matter if they look at me?”

“It- I-”

“Tell me why it matters, Princess, and maybe we can talk. I don't want part in your tantrums.”

You watch him walk away, listening to every fading step, until you only have your breathing to fill the silence.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, it made you sick, haunting you with the memories of what you had said to each other.

Maybe you had been wrong. Wrong to order him to follow you, wrong to act so brash, wrong to scream at him, and to accuse him of those things.

You scolded yourself for acting that way, to let your temper control you. It had felt good, until you had crashed.

The option-less future spread in front of you. What would you do? Exhaustion was seeping into you, a new type of tired, one that you would do anything to amend.

If your temper wouldn’t fix your problems, you would have to try something else, even if it burned you from the inside out.

You called him to your rooms, something you had never done before. There was no need to call upon each other, you always knew where the other was

Hajime found you in the chair in the corner, the one he used to stay in; you rarely used it.

The last rays of evening sunlight were shining in your windows, cascading over your body.

Your face was illuminated by the sun, every beautiful line and imperfection was open in the light. It made you glow, like you should have been kept in a painting so you could be adored forevermore. You were golden, hair caught fire, glowing like a beacon of truth. The heir of an empire, the hope of thousands.

“Majesty,” he bowed, something he had only done a handful of times, for special occasions. It felt forgien and stiff doing it there.

“Iwaizumi” you said, it sounded like a song, a sigh and a prayer and a plea. But it wasn’t right.

When was the last time you had called him that? Never, a furious voice in the back of his mind told him.

“It’s almost time for me to choose.”

He stood up straighter, meeting your eyes for the first time. There wasn’t that look in them like before, of hurt and hardness. Determination that you would power through. It was just a fact.

It was almost time for you to choose the person of your court to swear a never ending bond with. To protect each other, in body and soul, to in turn protect your kingdom.

You looked down at your hands, and he was compelled to take a step forward to make sure he heard you, but not too close. He had a feeling that if he took another step he would see your red rung eyes, and he didn’t want to think about that.

“I want it to be you… I'm sorry for that night, for yelling, and trying to cut you into pieces. But…” You take a deep breath and look out the window. “ I don’t know what’s changed, and I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, and whatever I’ve done, but I want it to be you”

With those last words you looked him in the eyes. The anger was gone, and all he saw was a tired princess. His tired princess. You didn’t break his gaze, not saying anything more .

He almost wanted to question you, the maturity in your words shocking. But he stayed quiet; that wasn’t his place anymore.

You had said your peace, he knew, as he looked into your eyes, with your face passive. It was his turn now, to come to you and bear his teeth, to gouge the hurt out of his chest in to lay it bare for both of you.

Hajime had a memory he kept close to him, right on his hip. He might have kept it on his ribs, the ones that protected his heart, if that was where you kept daggers.

It was the winter solstice celebration from years before. Hajime and you were in your parents' private rooms, giving gifts.The two of you sat on the floor next to the fire, with your parents on the couch in front of you.

“Now this one is for both of you.” Your mother explained, handing you both identical boxes. “Open them at the same time.”

You gave Hajime one look before tearing into yours. He didn’t get to see your reaction as he worked on delicately undoing the ribbons, but he heard your gasp.

Resting in your hands was an exquisite, shining dagger. You gently held it up, and both your heads turned in to stare at it.

“Oh my…” You gawked.

Hajime went back to his gift and opened it to an identical dagger. Twins.

He held his up, and you two compared.

They had blades of shimmering silver, with curved tips that looked sharp enough to split hairs. The handles were of matching silver formed into delicate patterns, inland with jewels that matched your kingdom's colors. The metal reflected the light of the fire behind you, flickering gold and orange, like the blades held the sun.

Looking up to your parents your father explained. “I had those made for the two of you.”

You waited, but that was all he offered. Hajime watched you balance the dagger in your hand, turning it over and examining it.

“They’re beautiful.” You say.

“I would hope that you don’t use them on each other, and only wear them for celebrations, but I doubt that is something that will happen.”

Hajime chuckled, looking down at his own dagger. The king might not have said it, but he had a feeling he knew what the daggers were for.

They were the two of you. Cut from the same stone, at each other with blades as sharp as diamonds, all while in your shining castle.

They were to remind you where you came from, that you two were one in the same, and that you were to work together. Much better to mar an enemy with the same blade than have the one that matches your in your gut.

“Thank you,” he said.

Hajime looked at you, and you were smiling. Leaning over, your grin was feral, and he couldn’t help the electricity that went down his spine.

“Do you know what this means?” You ask. “I need to get my dresses tailored.”

Hajime ruffled your hair, but your smile was burned into his memory. One in the same. Maybe his future queen really would be as strong as him.

Hajime could learn to like that.

Hajime was trained by your father and his men to be a warrior. Your warrior. While you were trained in how to fight men across oceans and continents, he was taught how to fight men with steel and teeth. You did give him a run for his money when you brawled, but he knew that he would never want to be facing you in a killing field, with an army at your disposal.

Your cleverness was beyond him, not that you would ever give yourself credit for it. But you were still young, and when he caught something that you had missed in meetings or conversations, the sparkle in your eye, the way he knew you were in awe of him, was addictive.

In all honesty, Hajime wasn’t your only lover, or admirer, you had many. Your parents were kind to you, your father could often be found making you giggle, especially when you were seated next to him at meetings. Your mother and you discussed books and music. You would often receive compliments from your father’s advisors and friends, which always made you blush in thanks. And your mothers lady’s loved to give you advice about clothes and any romantic endeavors you might go one. Not that there were many. The boys liked winking at you, and making you blush. Hajime tried his best to keep that to a minimum. Your court did love you, they loved the princess that was bashful and kind, but had the cleverest ideas at council meetings. You were the beautiful shining light, in your beautiful shining castle, and you would keep your court strong.

Those were all things that Hajime knew well. Painfully well. Because he was always the first to notice. He had seen how they all cared and vowed to make sure that you would stay that way, that you were protected and cared for. So your light never went out, so your kingdom was always strong. He would do what he must, he would not let your court fall.

So when he had looked at you and the light in your eyes had changed, he felt responsible.

It wasn’t a bad change, just different. It only took him a short amount of time to pinpoint what it was.

He couldn’t love you, not like that. He couldn’t let himself break you, because he knew he’d manage somehow, he was always a little heavy handed.

What protector would he be if he broke your heart? If he was the first one to weaken you? To welcome you into the cruel world you would be entering, of choosing the best of horrible options, of lying and deceiving? He would not be the one to welcome you to that.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe you could take it. He wouldn’t be the one introducing you to the hurt, he could be the one to guide you through it.

He was surprised when he found you, always too afraid to wander the place at night. You were in a sitting room, long forgotten by the court, locked away and covered in sheets.

It was one of the rooms you would play in as children, with the furniture pushed to one corner; each and every one of the walls between the tall windows was covered in paintings.

By now both of you had them memorized, whether that be by sunlight, candle light or moon light, both of you knew each of them well.

You were only looking at one, standing right in front of it, your favorite painting of them all.

Hajime watched you, in the light of the moon, stare at the picture. Your profile was perfectly outlined by the stark light.

“Tell me about her again,” he asked, voice carrying across the room.

You spare him a glance before turning back to the painting.

You take a step closer and take a breath. “Her name was Kiyoko.”

You bring your hand up, and with only a finger you delicately trace the frame.

“She was the most beautiful woman in the land, and the man who painted her was in love with her, but there were few who weren’t.”

Hajime didn’t have to see the picture to know what it looked like, he had spent plenty of time looking at it with you. The girl was beautiful, with silky black hair, pale skin, and eyes that felt like they knew all, like they were windows into the fiercest storm.

He knew the curve of her lips and the mole on her chin, and the pastel color of her dress. She was framed in a sea of greenery; plants, grass and trees all around her. Despite her pale dress and cool eyes she was surrounded by orange flowers, and in the corner of the painting, were perched crows.

He wasn’t sure what made you stare at that painting like you did. Like you could see details that weren’t there. You had always said that when you looked at it, you longed for the frame to expand, for the picture to grow wider, to see what she saw.

You also had a thousand questions for her, you wanted to know her as intimately as you knew her face. But she never answered, staring back with those eyes, until only Hajime was left to answer your questions.

“She was loved by everyone, it was said that you would be blessed if she acknowledged you, and if she spoke to you, you were destined for the most devine heaven.” You move your finger from the frame to the painting, looking like you would touch it, but you don’t, only coming infinitely close.

“She married the man she loved, and had a laugh that sounded like bells.” You bring your hand down and step back from the painting.

“You would be her most devoted admirer.” Hajime said.

“I already am,” you smile looking down at your hands, “but I think she would have deserved a beautiful friendship.”

It wasn’t a real story, her name was Kiyoko, that was the name of the painting, but each time you told it, it was different.

Looking up to reply to Hajime, you met his eyes. On his face was a smile that delicately curved, turning his mouth up.

That smile… the curve of his mouth, the sharp teeth behind it. It made your knees week, the relief of seeing it again.

He took steps towards you, until you were standing shoulder to shoulder looking at her again.

“What do the crows mean,” he asked, encouraging you to keep going.

You take a moment before answering. “They’re her other admirers, only to ever love her from afar.”

He hummed, and you swear you could feel it in your bones.

You turn to look at him, right in the eyes.

“It matters… it mattered because you weren’t looking at me.”

He tried to speak, but you stopped him. “No, listen to me.”

He wouldn’t look away from your eyes, face cool.

“I couldn’t- can’t- you just… you weren’t looking at me, and I didn’t know what to do. It’s unbearable.” Your words were so quiet, always so quiet in moments like these

It seemed like he couldn’t bear to break the silence as he said with narrowed eyes. “You think I don’t know, that I didn’t see?”

“You won’t break me Hajime,” you say with a scoff. He almost flinced, coming close but stopping. Like you had seen right through him when he wasn’t expecting.

“You don’t know that,” he hissed, “I know, saw it, everything, and I made that decision. I won’t be the one to introduce you to that, to be the first one to hurt you.”

He spoke with his hands, and you watched them as they moved. They were so wide, well taken care of, you remember them being softer than expected.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” you grit through your teeth. You don’t know if he can tell how flushed you are, but you know he can see the silver lining your eyes.

“H-how am I supposed to protect this kingdom, t-this court without you! I can’t do it without you.”

“You’ll do just fine,” he said, standing up straighter.

“Don’t say that! Why would you- why would you say something like that.”

It was getting hard to get the words out, every time he spoke you ached more and more.

He was panting, like those words had winded him. His face was hard, unyielding. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and covered your wobbling mouth. A sick imitation of a comforting embrace

He didn’t know what to do. His princess was shattering right in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

There was no one to point a blade at, no where to keep you safe. Looking at the tears in your eyes, he knew that this had been happening for a while. You were begging him to take his words back, any of them, but he wouldn’t let himself.

Hajime resisted the urge to look down at his hands. He’d always been heavy handed, that's what he had said to himself. He was trying to shield you, gods-dammit, but those hands had done more harm than good when it really mattered.

All he could do was watch you crumble in on yourself, while he stood feet away.

He was clueless. He always knew what to do. Your faithful, balanced Hajime was at a loss.

You could see it, you blinked and you were there. No longer in that moon-bathed room, but outside, children again.

How old were you? Nine? Eleven? How old was he? Thirteen? Fifteen? You were just children; the same as always. Had you even grown up, were you always clutching each other like this? So dependent yet so unaware of each other?

You had never seen him like this, he lived with a sword in his hand and a shield on his back. His upper lip stiff, his will unmoving.

But the man standing in front of you was desperate, with his hands splayed in front of him, like they would burn you if he got too close.

Why couldn’’t you just say it, why were you two always dancing around it? Your own choreography, your own sacred, unique steps.

“I’m tired,” you say, shoulders dropping, eyes lifting to the ceiling.

“I am too,” Hajime admitted.

You closed your eyes tight, feeling more tears fall from your lashes. And when you opened them again, you were met with steel. Not like the steel of blades, but unforged steel, ready to be shaped, reborn.

Looking into those eyes, the irises that framed hurricanes, it felt like those roaring winds blew right through you. Breathing life into you, fanning your flames. Maybe she could answer just one question for you.

This is the last time, you vowed to yourself, no matter how it ends.

Hajime didn’t ask questions as you dragged him through the palace, his presence giving you a little more confidence than before.

Up and up you went, just when he thought you were done taking him up stairs you found another set, and headed right to the top. You only felt him hesitate once, but you didn’t look back, and he followed. You made it to the top. A tower that was once a sentries station.

“How did you… isn’t there someone working here?” Hajime asked.

You didn’t have to look at him to see the crease in his brow. “No, there’s no need to have anyone up here.”

Your kingdom had been peaceful for years, if any attacks were to come, they would not be so often as to need guards on the lookout every day. Hajime knew that, so you followed. “I haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve just been walking around at night… and I wound up here.”

He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he was thinking. You never walked alone, the fact that you had been in that sitting room tonight was shocking. But you? Wondering up here?

On one hand, you hoped that he was feeling guilty. On the other, you felt horrible for tearing him up like that. But you knew that was how he was feeling, he wouldn’t push it to the side this time. Not with it spelled out in front of him.

Crossing his arms and leaning back, he gave you a look of disapproval, but you were no stranger to those cunning eyes. You tried not to dwell on the picture before you, slowly focusing into something- someone you recognized.

You walked up to the window, leaning against it, staring at the slowly brightening horizon.

“Just tell me why.” Was all you said.

Hajime stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with you, hand on the cool window sill. The warmth that encompassed Hajime's side almost made him purr, you were so close.

He took a moment to look at the view, the mountains in the distance, silhouetted by the rising sun. The dark sky was slowly becoming a splash of deep colors.

“I don’t just protect you, your life isn't your own. What I do affects you, what I see keeps you safe. What I let you do… it could change so much. If I stumble, if I overlook something- so much is at steak. And I know what you were thinking when you looked at me.” He paused as you nodded, and watched your eyes move from the horizon to the city nestled below the palace. “So I stopped, and you were pissed.”

“I’ll be disappointed if you say you didn’t see that coming.”

“Well, it worked to my advantage… until you woke me up that night…”

Your smile melted, but you didn’t say anything. Maybe he was bracing for something, that crackling irritation he was used to. But it didn’t come.

Hajime stiled. Maybe this wasn’t him talking to his princess anymore, as you listened, as he spoke, he realized it was his queen in front of him.

“You hurt me. You were mine and then suddenly you weren’t.” He sat there and listened as your voice cracked

“I’m sorry”

You turned to look at him. “You can’t break me that easy Hajime, we’re one and the same, in sword and devotion. I want you at my back, I want you protecting me. I need you to want the same. I thought- I thought we agreed on that. So please… let me choose you.”

“Please let me be your princess, please let me choose you, I want you to protect me, the right way.”

With you next to him he could see the sunlight reflected in your eyes, how it made them sparkle, how the roofs of your city seemed to wink up at you with the last slivers of moon light. Telling him how much hope they had for you, how they knew that their princess would keep them safe.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

With that admission, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him as hard as you could. You took a few breaths before pulling back, still keeping your arms around him, looking into his eyes.

“Let me be your princess Haji, please.” It was like you were looking for something in his eyes, not breaking the connection.

“Always,” he whispered, leaning closer, not looking away.

“But you aren’t my princess.” He watched your eyes flutter and he drew closer and closer, wrapping his arms around you, keeping you right against him. “You're my queen.”

He met your lips, and you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he made you feel like you had again.

And as the sun created the mountains, and it's morning rays illuminated you and Hajime, he knew that his hands might have broken you, but they had also put you back together.

Pulling away from Hajime, you try not to look as out of breath as you felt. You stared into his slate eyes and felt like he had never left, that the time between you that had hurt you was just a memory, a distant past.

They say you can’t remember pain. Maybe its to give you the courage to forgive, to be able to try again.

You watched his mouth as he said, “I'm a fool.”

“Then that would make me a fool too,” you muse, tone playful.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slightly, furrow in his brow. “We can’t have a queen who's a fool.”

“Then what am I?”

“An idiot,” you watched his mouth as he said it. His smile was crooked, like he was trying to hide it.

“Like the lovers,” You breathe, your own smile spreading across your face.

“Like the lovers,” he repeated.

The word lovers echoed in your head when you decided you wanted to kiss him again.

With each breath, you felt the embers inside of you cool to ashes, blowing in the wind like ash.

You might have lied, that night wouldn't be your last fight, but it would never be like that ever again.

Hajime and you were once again in the practice hall, but this time things were different. You were both giddy, as the early morning sun glinted in your eyes. You tumbled and swung your swords at each other, but this time it was laughter shared between you, not savage words.

You felt like you two were dancing again. With your dress whispering around your legs, and the dagger that matched Hajimes visible around your hip, you felt like you had that night as children, when Hajime first taught you to laugh.

You weren’t upset, or nervous this time, as you gave each other bruises and sore shoulders. Because later that morning at the ceremony you knew who would be standing next to you, with his back straight and his shoulders down. Your fiercest warrior and most devoted lover.

#hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hajime imagines #hajime x reader #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x y/n #iwazumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwazumi hajime #iwazumi x you #my stuff #my wriring

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imasimpforshanks · 4 years

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Hello! For the Alphabet Request, could I get the angst Alphabet with Sanji or the fluff alphabet with Zoro, thank you so much! :)

Angst Alphabet - Sanji

a/n: thank you for requesting! I chose the angst alphabet but I kinda regret it now because omg ANGST IS SO HARD IT HURTS TO THINK ABOUT!!! but anywaysssss I hope you enjoy <3

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Easiest answer ever. Yes. Sanji would take all the blame upon himself regardless of it really was his fault or not. Even if he wasn’t present at the time of the accident, he’d still blame himself and say it was his fault for not being there for you or being prepared for anything. He’d never forgive himself.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

It’s impossible to even imagine this man breaking up with you, ever. Seriously. He’s so passionate, and once he’s in love, he’s in love. There is no going back. BUT, I suppose, on the outrageously slim chance that he did break up with you, he would do it in the kindest way. You wouldn’t even realize you’ve been broken up with.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

If he were to make you cry, it would be entirely accidental. In fact, even then I can only picture Sanji making you cry tears of happiness. If he were to be the cause of your tears (one’s that aren’t tears of joy) he would beat himself up. He can’t stand seeing those he loves cry or upset in any manner.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

Denial would be the first emotion he expresses. It’s not possible, right? You can’t be dead. You’re not dead… because if you really were dead, it means he’s lost the light of his life. He’d be practically inconsolable for a very long time. Nothing would be able to bring back his usual liveliness. Cooking loses its appeal – I mean there’s no point if you won’t be the one enjoying his food. The Straw Hats are unable to do anything to bring back some of that fire. They get so desperate that Zoro even intentionally tries to cause a ruckus, but Sanji doesn’t react at all.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

His insecurities are the one thing he would never dear show to others. Not only would it result in endless remarks from Zoro, but, he doesn’t want to have to deal with the pitiful comments – ‘you’re not useless’, ‘you are wanted and needed here’, ‘we all love you’. Sure, he understands people are just trying to help and be reassuring but it just makes him feel worse. So, instead Sanji deals with this the only way he knows how: bottling it all up and putting on a façade.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

Fighting with you is something he hates doing. He never allows anything to get to that point. Sanji can’t risk losing you over a fight (no matter how big or small). Instead, he will apologize immediately, completely agreeing with everything you are saying. However, if it’s something he feels really strongly about (i.e your safety) he will sit you down and communicate calmly.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

The events of Whole Cake Island continue to eat him up. He knows he did it for the sake of the crew and the safety of the Baratie, but Sanji can’t seem to forget the way he disrespected his captain and hurt the people he loved the most (and the one’s that loved him too). The part that really makes him messes with him is that fact that Luffy forgave him instantly. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting Luffy to stay mad or hold a grudge, because well… that’s just not what he does. Even so, Sanji’s conscience is constantly telling him that he doesn’t deserve to be on the future pirate kings crew despite apologizing and being forgiven.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

Being away from you for long periods of time is one of the biggest causes of pain in the relationship for Sanji. He misses you like crazy and often finds himself distracted while thinking of you.

During the early stages of a break-up Sanji is likely to be a bit more reserved, choosing to keep to himself a little more. His usual enthusiasm lacks a little bit of oomph. Sometimes, late at night, when everyone else is asleep, he makes his way to the kitchen where he sits in the dark, cigarette in hand and quietly cries to himself.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

He would be FURIOUS. Not at you of course. At whoever the hell thought it was okay to hurt the love of his life. He would be in god mode and rampage to find the son of a bitch that would ever dear to lay a hand on his partner.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

Death glares are a staple in the Sanji jealousy inventory. He’ll glare at anyone who seems to be taking too much of your attention. He also becomes a lot more clingy, using any and every excuse possible to be near you at all times. It can become a bit much at times, so if you tell him to reign it in a little, he’ll try his best.

There is one person that he refuses to let you spend any time with. Unsurprisingly, that is Zoro. He gets extremely jealous if you pay even the most minimal amount of attention to Zoro mumbling lots of “Stupid mosshead, why the hell are you spending time with him anyway?”

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Something deep inside me wants to say yes. But, he is far too kind-hearted to take away someone’s life. It is a possibility though, if the other person was to kill his s/o, or anyone else on the crew. However, for the most part, Sanji would just beat the person/people black and blue until they can’t walk, talk, or eat anymore. Basically, he won’t kill them, but they would wish they were dead after he’s finished with them.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

When he was a child, he lost his mother. She was the only person in his family that truly loved and cared for him (okay his sister did too, to an extent). His mother believed in his dreams and passions. She treated Sanji like a true human being. Losing her was devasting and made him feel more alone than he had ever felt before.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

It’s very rare for Sanji to ever make any kind of mistake with you. He remembers every date, anniversary, achievement and milestone regardless of its importance. He doesn’t speak rudely to you, lash out at you or direct any sort of violence towards you.

So, the worst thing he’s probably done is accuse you of liking Zoro more than you liked him, because you would train and workout with him. It wasn’t that it was a serious or harsh accusation, it was just that this was a conversation the two of you have had time and time again.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?

Sanji occasionally finds himself waking up in a sweat, breathing heavily. He doesn’t have nightmares too often, but when he does, they are horrifyingly vivid. It’s as if he is a starving boy again fighting for his life. OR it’s as if he’s that lonely good-for-nothing screw up of a child, locked away in a cell. It’s frightening just how realistic these nightmares feel and to bring himself back to reality all he does is find you. He needs to hold you, look at you, smell your scent, hear your quiet snores… anything. You are his safe place, a sign that everything is alright.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

He wouldn’t get mad at you. It’s extremely unlikely (though not impossible). The only possible instances that could happen is if you were to disrespect his passion and talent for food. But lets be real… why on earth would you even do that in the first place.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

Whole Cake Island was a real game changer. So much was revealed about Sanji that he never wanted anyone to know. He was terrified you would think differently of him knowing that he was a ‘failure’ (note: you didn’t think of him differently at all). However, the part that really put a strain on your relationship was how you thought he had betrayed not only yourself, but the crew too. It really was a whole rollercoaster of emotions, but in the end the two of you were able to work through it, coming out stronger.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

This man is quick to anger. Even though his reactions are usually harmless, what’s to stop him from one day completely just blowing up and doing, or saying, something to hurt those he cares about.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Of course, he would be upset if you rejected his confession, because a beautiful individual has just turned him down, but honestly, he’d just continue treating you as he always. has

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

There are definitely no scars - battle-related or self-inflicted - on his body (that we know of). However, mental scars are a different story. He has plenty of those from his childhood, as do a large proportion of one piece characters.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

Never in his life would Sanji do something to break your trust. The closest it came was the incident on Zou and Whole Cake Island, it certainly looked as if he had betrayed you and broken your trust entirely, only for you to find out it was the complete opposite.

Many people think Sanji is the type of individual to cheat in a relationship. While I can see where they are coming from with this opinion, I strongly disagree. This may be an unpopular opinion, I’m not too sure, but, Sanji would never be disloyal in a relationship. Treating women properly is such a big part of his personality to the point where it is practically embedded into his muscle memory – he acts on instinct. So of course there will be times where he’s paying a little extra attention to some lady but there is no ulterior meaning to his actions – its simply his firm belief that all women deserve to be treated and doted on as the queens they are. Additionally, during the Dressrosa arc Sanji truly believed he was in a ‘relationship’ with Viola and as soon as he knew that he was trying his absolute hardest to pay attention to Viola and only Viola. His mind did wonder off to Nami and Robin but he would scold himself for that (and feel free to correct me on this if im remembering incorrectly – it’s honestly quite possible that I’ve made this up entirely LMAO it’s been a while since I’ve read and watched the dressrosa arc).

So, let me sum up again: No. Sanji has never done anything that has broken your trust.

(my apologies I really went off for a second there I’m SO sorry).

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

Oh boy, he’s practically incapable of going five minutes without seeing you. He misses you so much it’s crazy. Your presence is so soothing for him, so he gets really antsy and anxious in your absence.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

I seriously can’t see him lashing out at you at all. He would never physically lash out at you but, there may possibly be potential for him to say something harsh in the heat of the moment. It literally wouldn’t even be because of anything you’d done in particular. It’d just be a build-up of things and then you happen to be the closest person and the next person to say something, and it tips him over the edge, so he snaps. He apologizes as soon as the words leave his mouth.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Sanji hates, and I mean hates being unable to help those that he cares about. It’s one of the few things that makes him feel weak. He has a kind heart and is always wanting to protect those he loves, so he does everything in his power to be ready to move in an instant. He remains aware of his surroundings, and is always on guard so that he can defend and strike when the situation calls for it.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

The most obvious object of Sanji’s hatred is Zoro, however, I wouldn’t say it’s hatred. It’s a classic rivalry that is thankfully not rooted in any true ill will.

One other thing Sanji has absolutely no tolerance for is the inappropriate or rude treatment towards women, and food. On many occasions Sanji has actually physically and verbally fought others over their treatment of women and food.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

I know this is meant to be serious and super angsty but, my mind automatically went to the clear-clear devil fruit LMAO. Its canon that the clear-clear fruit is something Sanji wants but can’t have because it’s currently in use by another person. (to make up for this not angsty idea I’ll do another one).

Growing up all Sanji ever wanted was a family that loves him and treats him kindly. Sure, he had his mother (before she passed away), and to an extent he had his sister, but he never truly experienced a loving family growing up. However, the moment he met Zeff & the Baratie gang and then the Straw Hat Pirates he learnt something important: Family isn’t always blood.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He tears up. A lot. He’s so conflicted between wanting to spend your final moments with you but also not being able to handle that pain. Ultimately, he decides to endure, holding your hand tightly and whispering everything he’s ever wanted to say - all his dreams about your future together and how he saw that playing out etc.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #vinsmoke sanji #one piece imagines #black leg sanji #one piece angst #angst alphabet

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spondeesoliloquy · 3 years

Text

Index of first lines, 2021

Not all individually linked because i DO NOT have that kind of time, but each month’s header links to that month’s poems in chronological order.

January 1. I don’t believe that malice is inherent in the world— 2. something has been settled, 3. I think I keep falling in love with the sun, 4. we stood together on a street corner 5. i am so tired of the cold, 6. i want a name for this absence 7. hard to grow up in stagnation, 8. strange how life proceeds in chunks 9. feather light the falling notion 10. what am i saying about myself in tongues 11. maybe i won’t make something beautiful 12. i catch myself writing on walls 13. i ran from my fear because i knew 14. i’m tired of these memories cutting 15. here i am attempting things again 16. it’s not that it’s easier, 17. sometimes i’m a ghost who hasn’t stopped walking 18. i don’t think i needed to be hurt— 19. what can i say to show i have heard the world 20. i am lace these days, the whole 21. I was someone else’s child then 22. can you name these things that pressed the patterns 23. as i’ve grown older, i’ve found that love itself 24. life lived despite the warning signs— 25. burn my bones and break my name, 26. i can’t cast a wish on purpose 27. Strange to have my dreams outstripped. i did not think 28. keep your hand at the horizon, and one day 29. i don’t know if i feel safe 30. do i make anything, if not joy? 31. i think i will love you

February 1. i am tired of things that shine 2. I dream of climbing, these days 3. the children do not know they are being abandoned 4. Smart is a game they play with you 5. Someone poured detergent into Charybdis. 6. i’m trying not to let my name fall into dust just yet 7. I strip my skin in choosing 8. in the dark, i blink 9. I want honest chaos. 10. what use is half a flight of stairs 11. Self portrait as a corkboard of family photos (in which I only appear as a baby) 12. write me a poem where it’s all about 13. why should i have to find a higher truth on borrowed wings 14. I am the only thing come to this rock, 15. I wish that panic would find something else to feed upon— 16. I would like to learn things without shame. 17. there are changes in the way my heartbeat sits 18. There’s something to be said for the fear of being seen— 19. maybe all I’m good for is writing out mirrors 20. he sharpened the stars with silk for him 21. love story? don’t be foolish. this is 22. there are these things always true: 23. i am short and sharp and storied 24. i’m trying, hand by hand. tongue by cheek 25. perhaps i lie when i protest 26. there are sled dogs who will run like they were made for nothing else— 27. Observe the open orbit of the opulent abyss 28. when i dream of my father, I know he is dead.

March 1. time does not wait for me to remember 2. The least of all songbirds. 3. i am the enaction 4. the way my name fits me 5. what foolishness the thought that i could bind myself 6. it is so good, to speak again. Too good 7. i am pulsing today. bursting fits 8. My father died. We sang. The tense 9. Wherever I am, the madding crowds 10. my left arm and I, we get by 11. I am now too old 12. i’m making up 13. love is the crumbs in the bed from your socks 14. sometimes my brain burns with me inside. 15. i am stressed, and angry, and i hate it— 16. this winter is the first one 17. [no poem] 18. i want joy worth the suspension 19. i don’t believe in single soulmates, i believe 20. blurry, blurring, bleary. caught up 21. I was born in the Pacific Northwest, lived there 22. I walked home drunk on the afternoon 23. Round and wandering lonely 24. the hunger of the newly found— 25. these fragments insuffice to fill 26. These hours of dark, i am alone 27. sometimes i wish for better ghosts 28. A firetruck purrs across the street outside my window, 29. How dare I coax desire into being, where i sit 30. open letter to my father’s god, part v: 31. perhaps love is imitation,

April 1. Did Icarus fall through time 2. i’m drowning in raindrops of contact. 3. i wish i knew how to give out goodness. i don’t 4. maybe i can breathe myself ascendant 5. do i have poetry in my toes? In 6. Third grade. We laid out 7. can i break myself quickly enough 8. giddy jittery joy of crashing 9. Is this adulthood? letting down 10. [no poem] 11. i haven’t asked you in, don’t want you here 12. Things I’ve left behind: 13. A confession, damning details removed: 14. i am confined within this fragile skin 15. how wonderful and terrible 16. maybe it’s enough that we are soft and warm together 17. i did not want to be weak. to be 18. is it enough to scrape a scrap 19. is it enough to tell you 20. Grabbing onto history, cutting through the 21. My father got pneumonia, in Tacoma, 22. we create our future one mistake at a time 23. I invite you over for dinner 24. what have i acquired? enough to add my voice 25. swallow potential. set the ‘maybes’ alight. we are 26. I find myself turning away 27. You know what they say about death, 28. sometimes, i wonder fearfully 29. [no poem] 30. i am on the cusp of dreams unrealized. there are

May 1. i would like to grow to fullness— 2. perhaps i’ll walk back to myself, seeking 3. i’m stacking up feelings like a weary, wary squirrel 4. i would wrap myself up in my attempts 5. i’ve spent so long learning to live past the grief 6. oh, I am cracking fragmentary 7. i wish i’d given over words to you, 8. the heartbeat of life in journeys 9. [no poem] 10. I want to shut these things away— 11. there are handfuls of ashes in my palms, 12. lo, let there be internet 13. I would feed you, if I found you— 14. i don’t know how to rest, now, like bread 15. i wish i was better at remembering 16. there is a part of me that’s made 17. this certain terrible joy, obsession 18. there is no poetry in this, or there is 19. The cat lies down when her legs give out. she’s learned now 20. i can’t offer truth, or worlds 21. i am tired and enduring. can one 22. I missed this, warmth 23. It seems I have been waiting for a day much like today 24. It’s not that I’m a mystery— 25. it is lovely to be welcomed. it is 26. I will never have today again. The slice 27. life, loud or soft 28. It is funny how weariness 30. [no poem] 31. the past stands still, deceptively

June 1. i spent so long waiting to arrive 2. I don’t think I want advising from the past— 3. i don’t have much inclination 4. I’m not ready for the future— 5. oh this moment that is good— 6. i have already forgotten this skin 7. It is very hard to be human on the days 8. I’ve fallen into indolence so quickly— 9. i find sometimes that rest has brought me restlessness— 10. It is alive. It is breathing. It is laughing, 11. carry me forward and hand me to the dawn. i’ll 12. sleep like the world has forgotten your name, 13. it’s harder than it should be these days 14. [no poem] 15. i couldn't tell you what i am, 16. let the morning wind wind past my ears 17. There’s nothing for it but to rest 18. i will have music if i have to drag it 19. the summer burns up slowly, rising 20. [no poem] 21. are we soft enough? is it clear 22. the climb does not seem worth the pain. 23. all i’d like to not have left undone 24. i am trying to let go of the bitterness. 25. are there holy things about us? both 26. i’m drifting in and out of myself 27. there’s something soft in me, maybe. 28. My grief walked up to me. I told it 29. [no poem] 30. i’m remembering, reluctantly,

July 1. i don’t think i am a vessel 2. [no poem] 3. there is something dangerous in taking 4. i see light like breaking worlds and get 5. are you not yet weary 6. In the shower, on my birthday, before midnight, 7. shadow weary shifting 8. i’m trying to be good. is there 9. oh can i learn to rest 10. it is so hard to hold the plans i made 11. stretch the possibilities inherent 12. i am breathing towards tomorrow. 13. i wish i were not someone who makes mistakes 14. i’m clawing at the walls, i’m pounding at the floor 15. if i am a line i am lightning 16. sorrow knows my name 17. it would be nice to think 18. it’s hard to aspire. so foolish 19. embers of a dying fire 20. grief filled my belly tonight 21. i’m tired. i’m tired 22. it doesn’t count if it’s in poetry 23. let me be alive enough tomorrow 24. [no poem] 25. i want to touch perfection. even as 26. maybe weariness will be enough 27. everything about me 28. [no poem] 29. i like the rain that roars me off to sleep 30. [no poem] 31. i want a song for all my broken moments

August 1. the night doesn’t know my name. there is no 2. it hurts to look myself from 3. i don’t want to speak of myself 4. i want to vanish but by bit 5. you will not be teenage-aged forever 6. i just want to open my house like a heart 7. the sea doesn’t care that i stand in it 8. i set my palms to wire screens 9. how frustrating the places 10. breathe until the sky swells with the meaning 11. you are not exempt 12. how far i have come from the time 13. how strange the place that i have come to— 14. maybe this is love, setting 15. i am alive and every 16. what a bitter drink, this wanting 17. [no poem] 18. something sharper in my mouth, the taste 19. i know changing is 20. i don’t know where i will be. 21. setting out my past like stones 22. i love the rain. i love 23. the sky is coming down to meet us 24. I’m going to lay in the water 25. i’m cracking slowly, faster sometimes 26. there is so much about the world 27. i have my ends, if not my means, 28. you owe me no apologies 29. i hope i remember today in ten years 30. i want to write a poem 31. this last week of august burned forever

September 1. rain confound my placement 2. [no poem] 3. art that has no name, has not been 4. how strange, what i become— 5. good intentions pave the road to hell but 6. the fall is dancing in and out of reach 7. Sometimes memorials have skin and bones. 8. i’m not sorry enough, even though 9. how swiftly i lose time 10. the universe spirals, father. 11. grief doesn’t introduce itself. it walks 12. i am not yet open 13. how sly and snarling, doubt comes in, 14. open to tomorrow, book of my life. let me 15. i wish that trying to grab my future with teeth and claws 16. i’ve failed to find myself fitting 17. as sleep eludes me, so does self 18. i am losing myself in fragments 19. is it easier if every time i would have 20. i would like to sleep, i think 21. is this compulsive, then, desire 22. happiness, warm: 23. there are grocery lists abandoned at the bottom of the cart 24. [no poem] 25. sometimes i think there is no life but to remember 26. the present is always dying, did you know 27. the crying is the point. the grief 28. did this sun rise up so brilliantly 29. i feel ready to swallow the sky— 30. do i consider thoughtlessness a sin?

October 1. love is soft things for the sake 2. sleep wanders through my mind with 3. i don’t care what god does 4. passing over boston harbor at the grey hour 5. i’ll be making something of these memories 6. i want to finish writing, i am sure, 7. it would be nice if i could cease to think of 8. [no poem] 9. frustration makes the balance. i know 10. food and sustenance as necessary 11. i want to imagine the world of my mind 12. press a knife to the morning like 13. that’s the thing of it, sometimes, when you love someone 14. morning, turn away. you don’t 15. what does it mean to find myself reflecting 16. i forgot how wonderful the chance 17. i should stop lighting my mind like a match 18. the year opens with lips and teeth 19. strange the way that terror can electrify 20. i’ll keep making this. i know— 21. i can love to write. i can write 22. [no poem] 23. sometimes things are good enough 24. it is good to have an ending. Good 25. [no poem] 26. rest should be something sacred, 27. my life is an unpaid debt, like every life, 28. am i a coward? very well. i am 29. we need milk again. i 30. what if never again i wrote myself 31. grief is for the living. but living

November 1. this world spins and I 2. let me brew another cup, let me 3. it’s never enough 4. still i persist, through frost 5. there are three things in my name 6. the day is closing, let it 7. tragedies endure 8. rest eludes a restless mind 9. it’s not that i have no sympathy 10. i will never love another place 11. my mind has too many corners 12. i forgot how wide the world could be. how broad. How 13. it would be nice to write a poem 14. what a night spread rampant, reminiscent 15. if we are not eternal motion 16. why are these things that ring with joy 17. the cold is back, i can’t 18. keep the sunset turning. is it nice 19. the world is so big, so 20. i don’t want to be scared of my future. i don’t 21. why can’t profundity strike 22. you don’t know the places that i’ve left my blood behind 23. what if i swallowed the moon 24. [no poem] 25. the world is wide and infinite, the 26. the day is come the day 27. hands in the dirt, i sweet-talk 28. Can I hold the world at just enough— 29. i hate the passage of time 30. i am trying again. Even

December 1. i’m living in bits. i’m dreaming again— 2. are you going to open your mouth to dreaming 3. today i was not so very much 4. The watch my grandmother left 5. what am i chasing? 6. breathe. there is 7. i have dared to say i am 8. will you accept the blade held out 9. slice the world asunder and at the heart 10. i’m sick to death of hanging senses 11. let the darkened noon embrace me 12. there is a delicacy of the present 13. i wonder if the earth will remember my feet. If 14. why does it get harder 15. the world is warmer than i feared 16. i've chased down all these thoughts i had 17. breathe like you’re not sorry for 18. the sky sorts out its descent 19. there is a shape within the shapes that lay 20. tomorrow i’ll be better. i’ll do 21. it is dark again. it seems 22. there are openings in twilights, 23. the memories come back tonight 24. i’ve fallen behind so quickly. i may as well 25. i like it here. the quiet 26. i did not miss the pain. i never do. not really. 27. what am i now? Am 28. A little is better than nothing. 29. more than other things i hate 30. i am awash in uncertitudes 31. what do I want, at the close

#index #first lines #2021 #mod post #the voice from nowhere

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

The Importance of the Black Cat

Adrien has a lot on his mind - concerns, questions, doubts. And right now, he has only one being to confide in. There is not enough cheese in the world to make Plagg want to handle this situation, but his holder needs him, and he knows two things with certainty: his very important place in the world, and that no one hurts his kitten. Not if he has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

The Camembert he holds in his paws is aged beautifully, gooey and perfectly pungent. He knows it was expensive, purchased with his holder’s allowance, and therefore tries to at least do the kid the honor of enjoying it. But as he mulls over the day’s events, the first few bites sit like a brick in his tiny stomach.

Tonight, Plagg eats his cheese for sustenance only. It’s hard to find the usual joy when his holder hasn’t spoken since they arrived home.

The light in the closet switches off as Adrien shuffles out into the bedroom, dressed for bed in black pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. The departure from his usual red and black spotted look doesn’t escape Plagg’s notice, but he chooses not to comment.

Plagg discovered long ago that his devotion to his holders is inversely proportional to his ability to counsel them. He knows he’s not good at advice beyond cheese and chaos. He wasn’t made for emotions and heartfelt chats.

A sure and confident holder didn’t usually open his heart or seek his kwami’s counsel, and Plagg liked that. They did their jobs, they shared their lives, but they didn’t share their hearts. They didn’t need to, because his holder needed his power more than his presence.

But once in a while, he’d materialize in front of a human whose eyes shone with innocent kindness, and he knew immediately that they would need him. If he’s honest, Plagg will admit that these are the best wielders of destruction. It’s all about intention, after all, and a pure heart rarely destroys with disregard. These holders, however, always seemed to come with a price - they saw their kwami as less of a means to an end and more of a friend.

He loved these holders. He would level cities and wipe out species for them. But oh, did he ever dread having to talk to them. Really, really talk.

Plagg knows his kitten will break the silence soon. It’s only a matter of time. He isn’t sure if it will be to talk about being stuck in the elevator with his very good friend, a monologue that will no doubt be punctuated by sighs and soft eyes that will be quickly denied if his kwami points them out.

One undeniable fact from the day, however, is the racing pulse and rapid breathing of a boy terrified of being locked up and feeling increasingly helpless in the situation. Plagg knows very well that it happened, because he was tucked inside Adrien’s shirt listening to his pounding heart. He hopes his holder doesn’t want to talk about that, because it’s way above Plagg’s pay grade.

He also hopes his holder won’t ponder why only he was dragged through the portal to safety, or why Rena Rouge was the one to do it.

Plagg gets down almost two full wedges of cheese before Adrien sits down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Plagg?” His voice is quiet but doesn’t betray any emotion yet. That’s actually more worrying.

Steeling himself, Plagg swallows the last big bite of cheese and zips from the desk to perch on top of the globe, facing his holder. “What’s up?”

He heaves another sigh before looking up into Plagg’s eyes, emotions still unreadable.

“How important is the black cat?”

Oh. A wave of relief makes Plagg’s whiskers perk up. The question is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He’s lousy with advice but an expert at talking about himself.

He puffs up his tiny chest and grins a fanged grin. “Only the most important, kid! Everything has to end sometime - except me, of course, but,” he shrugs, “we can’t all be perfect.” He hopes that will garner a smile, but realizes a moment too late that he’d started his speech talking about death to a boy who lost his mother at thirteen. Oh no, he thinks, panicking. He’s bad at this, too.

He barrels on. “I mean, creation is nothing without destruction. The very concepts go together, always. Can you imagine a world where flowers never wilt and people never die?” Adrien’s eyes widen and his brows furrow. Shit, Plagg thinks. I did it again.

“Plagg, that sounds...really nice, actually.”

He shakes his head. He can get this back on track. He’ll fall back on pragmatism like always. “It does, but that’s not how the world works. Your planet can’t sustain an expanding and eternal population. Everything grows and lives and dies and starts over again. Everything has a beginning and an end.” Plagg’s eyes shine with pride. “Only I, and my very lucky holders, get to harness that inevitability into a real power, and use it for good. Tikki and her bugs can create, but we destroy,” he pitches his voice lower, his tone serious, “so they can create again.”

Adrien’s eyes are still wide, but Plagg sees wonder and a bit of pride there. He lets his tiny shoulders relax.

“I never thought of it that way. You really are amazing, buddy.” He reaches out to scratch Plagg behind the ears with a soft smile that his kwami would see doesn’t reach his eyes if his own weren’t closed with pride and delight.

The hand retreats, and Plagg opens his eyes just to watch Adrien’s face fall.

“But I meant...how important is the black cat to the ladybug?”

"How...what?" Plagg splutters, taken aback. "I just told you, kid. Every beginning has an end. Creation and destruction are perfectly equal. You don't want to know what happens when they're not."

Adrien's eyes snap to his, clearly on the edge of a dawning horror. Oh no. Not again.

Plagg waves his paws. "What I mean is, you need each other. Tikki is never activated without me, and I'm never called up without her. We're two halves of a whole. You've never seen the inside of the miracle box," he scowls, "which is bullshit, by the way, but if you did, you'd see that the center is a circle, split perfectly in two. Tikki and I go together, and so do you and Ladybug. You can do this without each other, but you're not meant to."

Adrien's shoulders droop. "Yeah, I know she can win a fight without me. She's had to do it before." He sighs. "A lot."

"Sure," Plagg agrees, and can't resist adding, "but she wouldn't need to if you didn't throw yourself in the line of fire every chance you get."

"I have to protect her, Plagg! You know that! Ladybug is more important than me."

"Kid!" Plagg bursts out in frustration, "I don't know how else to tell you this! You. Are. Equal."

“Then…” Adrien’s breath catches and he blinks several times. “Then why doesn’t she need me anymore?”

For just a moment, in the time it takes for the words to register and translate and pierce his heart, Plagg’s ire flares white-hot and livid. No one hurts my kitten and gets away with it. But he looks into his holder’s eyes, sad and achingly lonely, and his anger slips away as quickly as it came. He’ll deal with his own feelings on the matter later.

Besides, it’s not Marinette’s fault. She’s doing the best she can. He’d still relish giving her an earful, but piling on the heartbreaking guilt about his holder’s situation wouldn’t really help and might just snap what Tikki has insinuated is a currently-tenuous grasp on stability. Plagg knows she’s making decisions based on the mentorship of a flawed man, a failed guardian who ran from his mistakes for the better part of two centuries.

Fu never understood Plagg and never tried to. None of the guardians did. Beyond knowing the basics of his power and the importance of the ring of the black cat in relation to the earrings of the ladybug, Fu never saw Plagg as anything more than a liability. Which is honestly fair, but Plagg doesn’t have to like it.

He definitely doesn’t have to like it when the rules of secrecy leave his kitten in the dark and feeling useless. Especially after what he now suspects from the clues he got today.

He looks into his holder's tear-filled eyes and sees a soft innocence rare among the long line of black cats who've worn the ring. This might just be his most difficult assignment yet, but it's also one of his favorites, and he'll protect his kitten no matter what it takes. Even if it means talking about feelings.

Once his stomach is settled, he's going to eat so much cheese to make up for this.

Plagg takes a deep breath. "Who spotted Optigami in the elevator today?"

Adrien blinks but says nothing.

"Who made sure Ladybug didn't tell her secrets to Truth?" He waits another moment, watching Adrien's blush rise and letting his words sink in. "And who protected her identity when she was hit by Kwamibuster?"

"Okay, but—"

Plagg steamrolls his holder shamelessly. "You were the key to defeating Gorizilla, Stormy Weather, Lady Wifi. I have a long memory, kid. Do you want me to keep going? Because I haven't even gotten to the times you kept your bug afloat with all those pep talks and disgusting feelings. A nice piece of Brie would've perked her up, but I have to admit that your methods worked, too."

Adrien sniffs and chuckles. "Okay, buddy. I get it." His eyes still betray an ocean of hurt, but Adrien's soft smile seems genuine.

Plagg has never quite understood human emotion, though he's seen it all in his many centuries among humanity. He's also seen the myriad ways humans cover up one emotion with another (and another, and another, and sometimes destructive behaviors and very dark paths). He doesn't much enjoy dealing with human feelings, but he when it comes to masks, he prefers the very stylish ones he manifests on his holders' faces, changing with the times and his whims and his holders' thoughts. It's been a long time since he had a holder whose civilian life necessitated so many different masks. No wonder he eats so much Camembert to recharge - it's exhausting just watching it.

"What I'm saying, kitten...er, kid, is that your bug needs you. Paris needs you. And I know that because creation always needs destruction." He snorts a laugh. "That's a fact that's bigger than both of us."

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." Adrien sighs and stands to pull back the covers and turn out the light. He climbs in bed and heaves another sigh as his head hits the pillow. "I just wish she'd let me help her. I...I know she's going through something."

Plagg settles on the pillow next to Adrien's, in the Camembert-infused spot where he sleeps. "Being a guardian kind of sucks. It used to be a whole big thing - years of training and ceremonies and shaving your head in a weird pattern..."

Adrien breathes a laugh in the darkness.

"Did you just imagine your beloved bug with her pigtails cut off and a bald spot shaved into her head?"

"Plagg! How dare you?" comes the reply, but his laughter betrays him. Yeah, he's totally picturing it.

Plagg smiles. "What I mean is, you know her. As much as you can, at least. She's told you over and over how important you are to her. I hear all that mushy crap, you know. I don't think she means to hurt you." A pause. "If she does, she'll regret it," he mutters.

"Please don't threaten my future wife, Plagg."

"Still?"

"Still what?"

Plagg blinks. Adrien blinks, then finally catches up.

"Oh. Well." He takes a deep breath. "I'm...a little upset about some things. But I'm sure we can work it out. People make mistakes. Besides, just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you stop loving them, Plagg."

He wouldn't trade Adrien and his tender heart for the world, but sometimes Plagg wishes he was already a bit more jaded when he slipped the ring on his finger that first day. He doesn't want to witness the moment his holder's gentle spirit is finally crushed by what he knows better than most is a very cruel world.

For a long moment, Plagg considers his answer and finally chooses sarcasm. He shrugs. "You can always just cataclysm their prized possessions. That works, too."

That startles a laugh from his holder, tired and tinged with emotion, but a laugh nonetheless. Plagg considers it a win.

They settle into silence. Adrien's eyes close sleepily. Plagg considers getting another wedge of cheese now that his stomach has calmed down a little, but the thought that this is far from over makes his indigestion flare again. Love is messy and inconvenient, the Cancoillotte cheese of emotions. But, he supposes, looking at his holder in the dark, it's worth the difficulty.

Adrien's eyes open suddenly to meet Plagg's glowing green.

"Thanks for talking to me, buddy. I'm sorry I—"

Plagg zips over to his holder before he can finish the sentence, tucking his little body into the crook of Adrien's neck and starting up a loud purr.

"You're welcome. You owe me so much cheese."

Adrien laughs again, and Plagg purrs louder when he reaches up to scratch behind his tiny ears.

"Reblochon again?"

Plagg stifles a laugh at the fact that he has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's feelings before realizing how sad it is that he...well, has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's emotions. Someday, when his holder is on his own and out from under the tyrannical rule of his asshole father, Plagg has every intention of cataclysming Gabriel's entire atelier, including his tablet and any backup drives. He dreams about it sometimes. Just watching the world burn. It'll be beautiful.

He sighs wistfully before answering. "I was thinking Époisses."

Adrien groans. "Plagg, no. It's so gross."

"Plagg, yes. Feelings are gross. Cheese is life."

Another sigh. "Fine. I'll order it in the morning."

Silence falls over them again, this time comfortable and warm. When Adrien's breathing evens out, Plagg heads over to the cupboard for a snack. By the time he's eaten two more wedges of Camembert and thought about the whole situation, he's decided to pay Pigtails and his other half a visit. This can't continue. They're all headed for catastrophe, and no one wants to see what he'll do if this breaks his kitten.

He takes a wedge of cheese for the road and heads for the window, but something makes him stop before he phases through. He turns back to look at his sleeping holder. The moonlight shines through the windows, casting shadows like prison bars across the room, across the bed, across his kitten. Plagg thinks suddenly of Adrien waking up alone, his kwami nowhere to be found, and realizes he can't just leave.

He sighs. He's sighed so many times tonight.

Plagg tosses the cheese in the air and catches it expertly, swallowing it in one gulp, then makes his way back to the bed.

Tomorrow, he'll find a way to phase into Pigtails' bag during homeroom for a much-needed discussion with Tikki. He doesn't want to - he really doesn't want to - but Plagg intends to do his part to fix this. Holders like his come once in a very, very long lifetime. Adrien is worth it.

He settles again on his cheese-scented pillow and curls up, wrapping his tail snugly around his body. Soon his purr matches the rhythm of Adrien's quiet breathing, and peace, however temporary, falls gently over the two of them once more.

#adrien needs a hug #and some therapy #plagg to the rescue #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #plagg #ml spoilers #season 4 spoilers #optigami #optygami #ml fanfiction #ml fic #my writing #sadrien

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