#ao3 crosspost

[juggalomary]

Saw someone do it and I’m a proud follower

10 notes: I go through my drafts

25 notes: i re-edit my teen au

50 notes: I finish and publish my art

75 notes: I try (keyword try) to fix my iPad

100 notes: I finish and publish all my one shots

Not likely

200 notes: i start my new projects I’ve been procrastinating

300 notes: i clear my tumblr drafts and post that

400 notes: i get twitter

500 notes: smut…

For fun

1k and I get a therapist

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #asexual #tumblr trends #notes #help #I’m kinda fuck right?

[kaorisun]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (1)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : angst, hurt no comfort, reincarnation, canon divergence

word count : 5.3k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

or

Blade recalls the events that caused him to curse his immortality.

Blade smirks at the way the Cloud Knights beside him tremble as they escort him to face the General. His footsteps echo throughout the hall— the only thing he could hear in the silence of the Shackling Prison.

He can hear the General address his underling before he feels a gaze settle on him. Glancing up, he wears a fierce expression as he meets Jing Yuan’s eyes.

The General speaks, “Do you remember me?”

“I remember,” he states, the following words grained into his mind as if they were coded into his very being.

“Of five people, three must pay a price,” Blade starts, smirking at the way the two visibly tense.

“You are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”

Before the General’s young protégé has a chance to react, Blade breaks free from his shackles, the metal flying off his wrists with ease. The Cloud Knights react a moment too late, allowing him the window of opportunity he needs to act first and throw them back.

A watery sword flies past his face, but he merely leans to the side out of the way.

Despite the young swordsman’s skills, his lack of experience and the gap between them is apparent.

With a triumphant expression, he looks to Jing Yuan, anger filling his gaze.

“Goodbye, General. I have more important matters to attend to,” Blade states before disappearing within the shadows of the prison. He can hear Jing Yuan hurriedly command his men to chase after him, but he knows nothing will come of it.

As Destiny’s Slave predicted, they were woefully unprepared, he thinks to himself.

The moment he’s out of their vicinity, that once smug expression falls, returning to its usual stoic, empty state. In his times of solitude, he seems to wear this blank expression often. Without the fires of vengeance fueling his emotions, he becomes a husk of who he used to be.

For a moment, he glances back at the prison he fled from.

Jing Yuan.

While he’s certain he’d be able to pin some sort of blame on the man for his suffering, he refuses to do so. There’s various reasons, but one stands out in his mind as the most prominent.

After all, there was once a time that he trusted his most precious treasure to the man. And that treasure of his was rather fond of the General.

Blade feels a small sliver of warmth at the memory.

Of course, you’d never forgive him if he brought his wrath upon Jing Yuan. You easily angered when he bickered with the man, insisting that the two had to talk it out and make amends. With your peacemaking, he could never stay mad at the other for long.

Besides, he thinks, there are others more directly responsible.

Staring blankly ahead, he pushes the thought aside as he arrives at the designated rendezvous point, eyes gazing off into the distance as Kafka approaches him.

“It took you long enough, Bladie. Thought I’d have to go ahead and get myself arrested without you here,” Kafka chides lightheartedly, “Did the General start monologuing or did you keep me waiting on purpose?”

“I waited for the opportunity to escape, as the slave instructed me to do,” he responds curtly. Kafka looks at him with a small smile.

“Still with that? Elio prefers being called by name, Blade,” she teases. Blade ignores her comment, focusing instead on the way his “name” sounds as she speaks.

“Blade” is but another thing borrowed from others to keep himself afloat. From the clothes on his back to this new name of his, it seems like everything holding him up is borrowed. Even long before he acquired said name, everything he owned was not his.

At least, almost everything. Though, it fills him with bitterness as ghosts of the past enter his head, lingering and meddling in his conscious mind.

Aside from his true name, you were his, were you not? Of course, he’d given you his heart and received yours in return, but that relationship was something that unequivocally belonged to him. It was not something gifted to him, nor was it something lent to him by a bosom friend.

What he had with you was something only the pair of you could understand or claim ownership over. A connection unlike any other— had he been more of an optimist, he’d have called you his soulmate.

Or, rather, if you were still around, perhaps the word “soulmate” wouldn’t drip off his tongue like venom.

Alas, aside from his past relationship, he, too, has his true name. Ren, a name that also belonged to him. Despite that, he prefers to continue on as “Blade” or “the unnamed.”

The name only served as a constant reminder of what is absent, however, so he no longer uses it. Just as he’s grown to no longer recognize the reflection staring back at him in the mirror, the name “Ren” seems less like his own and instead that of a stranger.

Without you there to say his name in the voice he’d once adored, his name became nothing but an untouched fragment of his past.

Alongside his memories of you, he refuses to allow his real name to be tainted by the vengeance, anger, and bitterness that fuels him today.

Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

“…en! Ren!” a familiar voice calls out to him. Blade cracks open his eyes, finding that he is no longer his Stellaron Hunter self, but Ren.

He remembers this, unable to stop himself from smiling as he sees you fast approaching, a wide, loving smile on your face as your eyes meet. Ren doesn’t need to look around to know that he’s in a memory of his past— much preferring to enjoy this moment.

“You’re back early! Jing Yuan said you’d be out until sundown,” you chime, stopping in front of him. Glancing behind you, Ren spots the General, who offers a casual wave. Chuckling, he looks down at you.

“I finished my duties earlier than expected, so I returned early. What have you been up to? Causing the General trouble?” he asks teasingly, You hit him gently on the arm— a touch not meant to hurt— one that he misses dearly— before smiling.

“He’s causing me trouble, Ren. I’ve been trying to gather herbs and work, but he’s been bothering me incessantly! He seems to only live up to the title of ‘Dozing General’ when it suits him!” you outwardly complain. Ren has to hold back laughter lest he further provoke your ire, so he distracts himself by looking back at Jing Yuan with a quizzical expression.

“I was only telling this one that they work too hard... they could afford to learn a thing or two from my reputation. Ren, why do you allow them to continue overworking like this?” Jing Yuan questions, a docile smile on his face as he approaches, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because Ren gets injured all the time! He lets me work hard because he likes being pampered,” you retort, glancing over at him with a teasing smile. Ren narrows his eyes.

“I do not enjoy being pampered, as you so claim. You’re merely skilled at healing, so naturally, I’ll come to you for aid,” Ren responds simply. You raise a brow at him before your eyes wander to his arm, gasping.

“Hey! Why didn’t you say you were injured? Come on— I’m patching this up now! See, General? This is precisely why I had to find those medicinal herbs today!” You insist, dragging him off so you can properly tend to his wounds.

While you gather your needed supplies, Ren engages in a game of chess with the other man, using his good arm as you take hold of his injured one with a careful gentleness.

“Ren. Are you that unskilled of a swordsman, or are you doing this on purpose?” Jing Yuan inquires as he observes the board. Ren clicks his tongue.

“Neither. Even our enemies are able to strike me from time to time. I’m not immune to getting injured,” he says, wincing a bit as you disinfect his wound. The other man laughs.

“You also aren’t immortal, Ren. You and this restless lover of yours have short lives. You shouldn’t be so careless,” Jing Yuan scolds, overtaking him and winning their match with ease as if to punctuate his point. You laugh.

“Please, I keep forgetting you’re an old man. You know, I’m not exactly young either. Besides, there’s no such thing as true immortality. There never will be, so don’t be so silly, General. None of us are immortal, and I’m certain none of us take our lives for granted,” you speak gently. Ren glances at you, smiling.

“If we’re truly talking about someone considerably old, then shouldn’t we be talking about—” Ren is cut off by another voice.

“How many times must I mention this? I am not that old.” Imbibitor Lunae approaches with a terse expression. Ren opens his mouth to offer a greeting, but is interrupted once more.

“Injured again? You are lucky your lover is an adept healer, though you should be more careful,” the dragon says before seating himself at the table.

“That’s what I keep saying, but he never listens!” you insist, wrapping bandages around his injury before sighing, “Ren, you’re lucky I love you enough to do this for you.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re allowing me to make a habit of this?” Ren asks.

“Absolutely not!” you retaliate.

The group bursts into laughter, even Lunae happens to be holding back a faint smile at your annoyance towards Ren’s carelessness.

Ren can’t hold back his own fond expression as he looks around the table— happy to be surrounded by those he cherished, by the people he loved.

Then, his smile falls as his eyes settle on you once more, and he has to remind himself that this is but a memory.

A phantom of what used to be.

No longer is he surrounded by the warmth of close friends. No longer is he familiar with the gentle touch of his lover— all of this is a distant part of his now extended life.

During these times, he was happy.

Despite being surrounded by Vidyadharas, Xianzhou natives, and Foxians, he adored the life he once had. Unlike many others, he did not lament over the span of his life in comparison to those around him. Even if his existence was short-lived, he would be allowed to spend it in its entirety with you.

You were both destined to have a short lifespan, but how lucky he was to be able to spend the entirety of his ephemeral existence with you. The Aeons had truly smiled upon him, allowing him the opportunity to live a fulfilling life alongside someone who had the same outlook.

You both saw the direct effects of chasing after immortality— witnessing the havoc brought by the Denizens of Abundance. Aside from that, having each other was enough to keep you both content.

You’d live together, then you’d eventually die together.

You were supposed to live and die together.

Ren was never supposed to be alive without you by his side.

With that bitterness, the memory quickly fades back into black, another voice bringing him back to the reality he wishes never was.

“Blade? Bladie! Have you always been this unresponsive?” Kafka murmurs. Blade huffs.

“I was thinking,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know you could do that, but could it wait? We still have work to do. First things first, you’re covered in blood, and I have no interest in knowing whose it is, but you should clean it,” Kafka mentions. Blade doesn’t need to look to know it’s his own.

His expression becomes grim at the glaring reminder of what he is: immortal with a monstrous healing ability. More importantly, he’s unable to die.

Blade has become considerably inhuman. Healing salves and medicine are things of the past to him. No longer does he need careful hands to clean his wounds— he just allows them to scar over these days.

Distantly, he can hear your voice echoing in his mind, scolding him for not taking care of himself— insisting that he had to clean his injuries lest they scar over.

But he sees no point. If it isn’t the familiar warmth of his lover, he doesn’t want any sort of first aid or assistance.

Perhaps, each scar is a manifestation of the monster he’s become. Maybe it’s merely his way of punishing himself. Either way, he cares little about it. He thinks it’s counterproductive to ponder about these sorts of things. Thoughts seldom bring back the dead.

“There you go again, lost in your head,” Kafka complains, crossing her arms. “At least enlighten me. You remember parts of your past, don’t you? Care to share with the class?”

Blade remains silent, causing Kafka to laugh a bit.

“Come on. There must be a reason that you’re gloomy and pissed all the time in private. You only have that aggressive ferocity when it has to do with your revenge. Otherwise, you’re practically a husk. So? What’s your story?” she asks with a smirk. He looks away, expression remaining a blank slate.

Such things aren’t her business. Those memories would remain untouched.

“Beyond my need and targets for vengeance, I don’t remember anything,” he claims in a monotonous tone. Clearly, it’s convincing enough for Kafka because she quickly continues with her own train of thought.

“Well, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you used to be less… bland. You used to be cheerful, apparently. I can’t imagine it, personally, much less what could’ve happened to change you into the polar opposite. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a rumor,” Kafka muses.

“I can hardly believe it. It’s likely just a baseless rumor,” Blade expresses, though deep down his chest tightens. Reminded of your expression, he knows that there indeed exists a time where he could truly consider himself happy.

All of it is so far in the past that he hardly remembers how it feels— true joy. He’s familiar with the burning sensation rage brought, and the slight satisfaction of getting the upper hand— but happiness?

Much like his former self, it’s a concept that’s become foreign to him.

Despite how he may feel about that, it’s unimportant. The joy of his past is insignificant in the face of the tragedy of your passing and his “prosperity.”

Nothing can change the fact that you’re gone and he, by some curse, isn’t.

Above all else, revenge on your behalf is Blade’s top priority.

He still needs to pay for taking everything away from him.

For cursing him with his current disposition.

Initially, Blade— Ren is naive to just how awful a curse immortality is.

On the brink of a premature death, he lies near motionless in Imbibitor Lunae’s arms, vision blurring in and out of focus. Breathing is painful, yet his body is numb.

He rasps out your name, wishing only to see your face in his final moments— wishing that he had more time with you.

It’s too soon— I need more time, he thinks to himself.

I don’t want to die.

Perhaps, Imbibitor Lunae can hear these thoughts of his, or perhaps, driven by his own desires, refuses to allow Ren to die.

Before he knows it, it feels as if a new life is being breathed into him, his body rapidly healing, taking in a sharp inhale as his vision clears and his body repairs itself.

With wide eyes, he looks to the Vidyadhara, communicating all of his thoughts through a single expression.

Fear.

“I’m… healed..? I feel different… you…” Ren trails off. The other does not speak, and the silence is the answer he needs.

He says nothing. Because that day, he is allowed to return home to you and your loving warmth. Ren fools himself into believing that, perhaps, immortality is a blessing in certain circumstances.

Wrapped up in your arms once more, he actually believes himself to be lucky to have immortality bestowed upon him.

However, just as quick as Lunae made the decision to breathe immortality into him, he’s reminded of why immortality is nothing but a curse of abundance.

Ren finds himself coming to believe that he would’ve been better off dying and awaiting your arrival in the afterlife. Though he would’ve broken his promise to live and die by your side, you both would’ve been better off.

You both would’ve been happier.

Instead, he’s forced to watch you slowly crumble with age. Strangely, you never visually grow any older, but he can see the way your body slows— the pain you’re in.

Jing Yuan, Lunae, and himself are forced to watch as your cheery disposition mellows out as you grow older, unable to run around and gather herbs as you once did, hardly able to keep fighting alongside everyone else anymore.

Despite that, you still dutifully mend his wounds. You make no comment on his immortality or the pace at which he healed— you never did since finding out about it. Whether it’s for his sake or yours, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know if you detest him for it.

With time, your mellowness becomes weakness until you can only be out for a couple of hours at a time— bedbound when your body no longer allows for activity.

Your outlook is grim. Ren knows this just as well as his close confidants do, but he never leaves your side. His love for you never wavers.

Just as you did for him in your younger years, he cares for you dutifully. The man makes your meals, mixes your medicine, entertains you— anything you need.

Though you both remain the perfect picture of your younger selves, your body is breaking down while Ren remains as he did the day he was granted immortality.

Desperately, Ren attempts to ignore your incoming demise— trying to push down his pain when he sees you become more and more tired, the color of your eyes dulling with each passing day— the only physical sign that you’re nearing your end.

Before he knows it, before he’s ready, that fateful day arrives.

Ren is forced to leave your side to tend to his duties. As much as he doesn’t want to, he has to go, hardly able to bring himself to walk away, let alone bid farewell, even if it’s temporary.

“Leaving…? When will you be back?” you ask in a gentle voice, the warmth never leaving your tone no matter how weak you’ve become. Ren smiles softly, trying to save face as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“By nightfall. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he promises. There’s an expression in your eyes that he can’t quite place, but you speak before he can acknowledge it.

“Ah… but it always feels so long for me,” you mention with a light laugh. The sentence holds an unspoken weight, acknowledging the vast differences in your lifespans. Ren has to hold back tears as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Either way, I’ll be back today. I won’t keep you waiting,” he says, pulling away. Ren glances over at the door where Imbibitor Lunae and Jing Yuan stand, soon forcing himself from your side and walking over.

“They’ll be okay,” Jing Yuan states, a silent oath to watch over you visible in his determined expression. Ren nods, preparing to leave before you call out.

“Ren?”

He looks back at you.

“Yes? What is it? Is something wrong?” he asks. You pause, searching his expression.

“If something happens… Promise you’ll find your way back to me,” you say. Ren’s heart tightens at the fragility in your gaze— the worry in your tone. Forcing another smile, he hopes to reassure you.

“Nothing will happen to me. I promise. I’ll return to you,” he swears. For a moment, you seem like you have something else to say, but bite your tongue. Instead, you nod, regarding him with a saddened yet adoring expression.

“If you insist. Goodbye, Ren. I love you,” you say.

“See you again, my love. I love you too,” he responds and walks out the door.

The day passes and upon his return, he wishes that he’d never left in the first place.

“They’re gone, Ren. I walked away for just a moment and they left,” Jing Yuan insists.

“It can’t be that simple! They have to be around here somewhere— we have to find them!” Ren insists in a panic, about to dash out the door.

This time, Lunae stops him with a firm grip of his shoulder.

“They’re no longer with us. It’s been hours since their disappearance. Jing Yuan already searched tirelessly and fruitlessly,” the Vidyadhara reminds him. Ren wants to retaliate— he desperately wants to insist that you must be out there, but Jing Yuan interrupts him before he can start.

“I had a feeling. They said goodbye to you, Ren. They knew. I don’t think they wanted us to see them like that. They didn’t want us to remember them in… this state,” Jing Yuan explains, a grim expression on his face as he glances over at the empty bed. Ren feels his heart shatter, tearing himself away from the two.

“No! I have to see it for myself!” he insists angrily, running off in hopes that you’d be out collecting herbs like you always did— hoping that you’d return to him with a loving smile.

Ren never found you.

Years passed, and aside from tales written in stories and memories, it was as if you never existed.

No matter how hard he looked, he never found you, dead or alive.

As time continued on without you, his resentment grew as grief shattered his mind. Ren learned the true pain of being immortal— living knowing that all he’d ever loved had departed from this world.

Ren will never meet you in the afterlife. And you will never return.

This fact causes him to bury his memories beneath vengeance and fury— his mind set on delivering karmic debt to those who caused this predicament. Cutting himself off from who he used to be, he wanders— an unnamed whose existence becomes bathed in blood.

He’s desperate to die— to meet you once more, but he'll be unable to face you if he doesn’t drag those who caused this down with him. Immortality is a sin, but more so is the centuries he’s been keeping you waiting in the netherworld.

It is then that he meets Kafka and Destiny’s Slave, Elio.

While unable to return you to him, they provide the promise of death in return for his cooperation.

Thus, “Blade” was born, now enacting his plans for vengeance in hopes that at the end of it all,

He’ll be freed from this curse, finally able to reunite with you in death.

Firm in his resolve, he turns towards Kafka once more, having become clearly disinterested given the way he continuously ignored her.

“We shouldn’t idle around. Let’s go,” Blade states, eyes alight with passionate fury once more.

Aboard another section of the Xianzhou Luofu, a lone Vidyadhara stares curiously at a pair of wanted posters newly plastered on the bulletin.

Eyes trained on the male, you feel your heart tighten, a strange feeling of longing filling your chest.

“Blade… Blade…?” The name feels foreign on your tongue, but the face of this man is anything but. A single tear rolls down your face, causing you to reach up, wiping it away with slight confusion.

“Why am I…?” your voice trails off as you look back at the photo. It all feels so familiar, but you’re unable to place it. It’s disheartening.

“Hey! There you are!” a young voice calls out. You turn around, smiling as a young swordsman prances up to you.

“My apologies, I didn’t know you were looking for me,” you say softly. Yanqing hums.

“Not me, the General. The Healer Lady finished your medicine and she wants to see you aga— are you okay? Were you crying?” he asks worriedly, concern etched into his features. You laugh lightly and glance back at the poster. Yanqing’s eyes follow your gaze and he has to hold back a gasp upon realizing what you were looking at.

“It’s nothing. This man just seems… familiar to me. It’s been so long and everything is still so foggy to me… I wonder if he’s from my previous incarnation, but I cannot be certain,” you explain, clearly distressed. Yanqing gently grabs your hand, leading you forward.

“W-Well! Lady Bailu always says you shouldn’t force it, so let’s get going. You can talk with her about it. I’m sure she’ll give you much more insight than I could,” he chimes. You smile, nodding in agreement.

“That’s true. Bailu is far more familiar with this than I am despite reincarnating much more recently than I. I’m grateful to have been in her care. Oh, and of course, I’m plenty grateful that the General has been caring for me now, as well,” you hum, allowing the boy to drag you off to the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Upon your arrival, the General glances over with a fond smile. This man also seems very familiar to you, but as Yanqing mentioned, forcing memories of your past is unwise. Without having anyone who knew your last incarnate, you just had to wait. If they return, they would do so naturally.

“General! I found them,” the boy called out. Jing Yuan nods.

“Welcome back. How was your stroll?” he asks kindly. You walk over, offering a warm expression.

“It was lovely. Though I can’t journey out behind the Exalting Sanctum, I still enjoy the scenery,” you express. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“I'm glad you don’t mind the restriction. It’s for safety purposes. Of course, I’m sure your work with Bailu will allow you more freedom. It’d just be better if you didn’t venture out without an escort,” Jing Yuan explains, watching as you acknowledge his statement with a smile.

“I know, and I understand why. Ah, Lady Bailu is waiting for me, right? She’s checking up on me, then I have to tend to my duties with her,” you mention. The General nods.

“She’ll be here shortly. While I still have you here, have any new memories come through?” he asks curiously, a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. You look away, that painful feeling returning once more.

“Yes, but… it’s… that man in the wanted posters. He looks so familiar to me, but the name doesn’t feel right,” you murmur before offering a wry smile. “Perhaps he just reminds me of someone I once knew? I’m not certain, but it’s something.”

Jing Yuan remains silent for a moment before brushing it off quickly before you notice. With a sympathetic smile, he walks over and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Even so, it’s a step closer towards remembering. Now, why don’t you await Bailu’s arrival outside? I have a few matters I need to discuss with Yanqing,” the General says. You glance between the two before bowing politely.

“Of course. I’ll see you two later. Yanqing. Stop by later so I can replace the bandage on your face. If you don’t keep it clean, it’ll scar,” you chide lightly. Yanqing pouts a bit at your insistence but agrees nonetheless.

“I will! See you later!” he chimes. You wave at the pair before exiting the hall. Soon after you leave, the young boy’s expression falls, looking over at the General.

“I know Blade is evil, but… is this really right, General? Keeping their memories from them and hiding their existence from him seems…” Yanqing trails off. Jing Yuan releases a deep exhale.

Truthfully, your return had come as a shock to him as well. Just as Ren did, he firmly believed you were a human.

Imagine his shock when you returned, not as a human, but a Vidyadhara. It was then that he learned that, like Imbibitor Lunae, your horns and tail would appear at your will, and your ears were far less pointy than your draconic counterparts.

When you had disappeared that day, you had done so to properly reincarnate once more. However, he only managed to find you now in your young adult years after seeing you work alongside Bailu.

Since that day, he’d been keeping his promise from ages ago to watch over you and keep you safe. All of it was an easy feat given that you trusted him rather quickly, likely due to an inherent familiarity you had toward him.

You couldn’t remember who he was, those memories buried deep within your consciousness, given that you’d spent years on your own, mind foggy and memories shattered.

While he’s certain that it’s but a matter of time until your memories return, he sincerely hopes it won’t be anytime soon.

Keeping you hidden away from the public eye is difficult enough as is. If you remember, he’ll have no choice but to respect your wishes, no matter what they may be.

Turning towards Yanqing, Jing Yuan gives him a stern gaze.

“Yangqing. It goes beyond the comfort of knowing. If I told Re— Blade, he’d want to remain by their side,” he starts and his expression becomes grim. “Tell me. As he is now, an IPC fugitive and a Stellaron Hunter, do you think Blade could provide them with the life they deserve, or the stability they need?”

Yanqing quiets momentarily before speaking up again, “But..! Back then, you always told me they were so close— that Blade is this way because he lost them. Maybe if he at least knew…”

Jing Yuan sighs. He cannot fault the naivety of a child, let alone the pure hopefulness in his expression, but he has to explain it properly lest the boy do something rash.

“If he knew, he’d stop at nothing to be with them. Right now, he longs for death solely to be reunited with them. Blade has long since abandoned the righteous path. While I cannot fault him for it, I also don’t doubt that he’d burn down the entire Luofu if it meant returning with them,” the General explained. Quickly noticing Yanqing’s saddened expression, he ruffles his hair playfully.

“It’s better this way. I promise you that,” he assures. The young swordsman sighs.

“I know but it’s all so sad! They saw his picture and started crying. I didn’t know what to do…”

“Well, they’ll learn the truth someday. All we can do is keep them safe until then. When the time comes, they’ll make their own decision of what to do with the burden of their past.”

Yanqing frowns. “It seems cruel to have to make that choice. I wish they didn’t have to…”

Jing Yuan hums in agreement, but allows the conversation to taper off, leaving them in silence.

Perhaps, there exists a timeline where neither of you were cursed with immortality— a world where, back in those lighter days, the two of you lived and died together.

However, it seems that the Aeons had other plans for you two. The General considers himself lucky to have been saved from such a tragedy.

After all, Jing Yuan is certain that you and Blade are soulmates. No amount of pain or suffering will change that.

What he’s clueless about is if, or rather, when your memories return to you and you recall the way your soul was once intertwined with Ren’s,

Would you allow it to remain but a distant memory, something to be left to the times of your past? Or…

Would you stray away from the proper path to return to Blade’s side?

Only time can tell, and that time, he knows, is fast approaching.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

[saccharinesyrup]

The Quickly-Solved Struggles of Having an Internationally Famous Boyfriend

Your boyfriend Isagi has been getting too much attention lately.

You never really pinned yourself as the jealous type, but hearing several different batches of random girls squealing over your now internationally-famous boyfriend on the tv screen was starting to convince you otherwise.

This is not to say that you aren't proud of your boyfriend, absolutely not. You've seen firsthand his dedication to soccer and how far it's gotten him. He's on a world stage now like he deserves, but international fame coupled with being a fairly attractive athlete makes for many many fans. 

You know in your heart you can't blame them for pining because obviously you knew your boyfriend was attractive. But you were also one of the only people who bothered noticing that fact in high school, so you weren't used to sharing and honestly never thought you'd have to (the girls in high school knew you got to him first already so they didn't even matter in your mind).

A good handful of people in high school managed to realize that Isagi was a perfectly good, boyfriendable choice, but most preferred the more extreme, exciting types. You pride yourself on realizing early that Isagi Yoichi was the best and only choice for you, taking him off the market as soon as humanly possible.

But these girls were innocently, blissfully unaware that Isagi Yoichi had a perfectly good, wonderful, cute, pretty, hilarious, vibrant, lovely, amazing girlfriend waiting for him at home already. And although this is not a sin, the territorial little green monster inside of you would like to claim otherwise.

You almost want to be mad at him for being so obviously attractive in front of live national television. Considering how long it's been since you've seen him last, you might just let yourself be just to keep him on his toes—can’t let him get too comfortable.

"Do you have anyone at home outside of Blue Lock you want to dedicate your winning goal to?"

Your ears perk up at the recognition of your boyfriend's voice coming out of the speakers again. For the man that just confidently claimed he'd lead Japan to victory on his own just a minute ago, Isagi seems to have reverted back to his normal self with a shy, but earnest grin on his face.

"I'd like to dedicate it to my girlfriend back home! She's been my biggest supporter ever since high school and I owe a lot to her! I love you!"

You hear the group of girls immediately groan in disappointment and you feel a sense of smug superiority fill your bones. That's right. Isagi Yoichi loves you , an honor you share only with his parents and soccer and no one else.

"Aw man…"

"Of course he already has a girlfriend…"

You suppose you won't be upset at Isagi for now.

—

It's been several days since then, and Isagi Yoichi's mystery girlfriend has since been the hot topic of the Under-20 soccer world. You are currently laying on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your socials and reading outlandish speculations and theories. You think your favorite is one about how Isagi's girlfriend is a Blue Lock PR stunt and doesn't even actually exist.

You wouldn’t personally call yourself a sadist, but maybe all of the posts lamenting his taken status make you chuckle.

Meanwhile, the very man of the hour was peacefully snuggled into your stomach, arms secured firmly around your waist as you brushed your fingers through his fluffy hair. He’s halfway off to sleep already and you told him just to knock out already, but he’s been fighting off his heavy eyelids for a while now.

Something about missing you for too long and wanting to stay awake to be with you or whatever.

“Yoichi."

A sleepy grumble.

"The web is talking all about you, you know?”

“They are?”

“Mhm. You’re apparently Japan’s number one heart-breaker, right now for dating me. You sure you’re not gonna regret rejecting all the attention?”

You had meant it as a joke, just a little tease to bother your boyfriend. But Isagi has a way of reminding you all the time why you fell in love with him.

Suddenly he’s fully up and awake again, his eyes are meeting yours from below, his eyebrows furrow in seriousness. “Never. I’ll never want anyone else, but you. I’m glad they know I’m taken now.”

You sweep his bangs up with your hand and lean down to give him a little kiss on his forehead.

"I'm just kidding. I know I’m your number one just like you’re mine."

Oh maybe you do feel just a little bad for those girls online. Isagi Yoichi is all yours and they’ll never be loved by him just like this in that way that makes your heart feel full and light.

And they’ll never get to tease him like you get to do.

"But about how those other soccer boys were looking at you…"

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #female reader #ao3 crosspost #blue lock x you #bllk x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #i dont actually know how to tag fics #syrup.scripts

[emofrogboy79]

A Decadent Bath (Reader x Astarion)

Reader (Tav) gives Astarion a much needed spa day.

• Gender Neutral! Reader

• Mild Hurt/Comfort

• Inspired by the “cried (/pos) during a non-sexual bath with gf” reddit post

• Words - 2,061

Astarion was noticeably different after you got out of that crypt.

He was unusually quiet, staring off into space when you were with the others. It wasn’t unusual for him to slink off and for you to find him all by himself, wrapping his arms around himself.

When he hadn’t noticed you yet, his shoulders slumped, his eyes glazed over. He tried so hard to keep up appearances, like he always did. He was good at it—the others scarcely noticed. But you did. You noticed him.

When you approached him, your heart ached. The way he was always so alert, you had barely gotten him to relax around you only for him to regress.

“Astarion?” You called. He already knew you were there. You knew that he knew, too.

“Yes my dear?” He smiled wide for you, a mirror to the first time you met. How his smile never reached his eyes, so keen to please.

“Care for a bath? I’ve got it all ready for you.”

He laughed, “Darling…” His voice dips in that seductive mask he doned to protect himself, “If you wanted to bed me, you could have just asked.“

Concern laces your expression, “No, I mean it Astarion. Just a bath.”

His face fell immediately, examining your face for any hint of deceit, any ulterior motives to getting him undressed and pliable in your hands. Yet, all he saw as he peered into your eyes was a deep sadness.

Another smile—smaller, more hesitant, curled at his lips, “Then how could I say no?”

You huff, “You’re certainly welcome to,” You remind him.

You lead him into the Elfsong suite’s bathroom, where you had set up a decadent bath just for him. A marble tub, filled with that sweet bergamot and rosemary scent he was oh so known for. A towel and robe was set aside for him, candles decorating any dark corners of the room. It was romantic in every sense of the word, ripe for sensual activity…

“How could I, after all you’ve gone through for me?” His eyes once again search yours for any hint of deception. His tone was teasing but you knew his words always had more weight to it. For 200 years, affection was a transaction to him. A thing to be used to his advantage. There was no such thing as kindness out of your own heart to him—only a debt that needed to be repaid. It was one he could never truly fulfill, either—because how do you pay someone back for giving you freedom?

“You know my answer.”

Astarion pouts for only the briefest of moments, “Very well,” He smirks, slipping past you and deeper into the bathroom, “Don’t peak now~”

You turn your whole body away to let him undress, hearing his clothes drop to the floor and him dip into the pool of warm water, and lastly, a relaxed sigh as he slips further into the tub.

“May I?” You call, only turning your head slightly towards your lover, eyes shut obediently.

“Yes, yes, come here already you boring sod,” He sighs with a laugh, resting on the edge of the tub as he watches you saunter over, “Moonlighting as a butler now, are we?” He reaches for your hand, and you take his. You bow down and kiss his knuckles tenderly, “You look like you need pampering tonight, that’s all.”

“Darling… I always need pampering,” He giggles, cheeks flushing just the faintest as you kiss his hand. He watches you grab the bucket full of soaps and brushes, sitting by his side, fully clothed in your camp gear.

“A little more pampering than usual then,” You smile, “I’m going to pour some water on you, alright?”

“Not going to join me?” He pouts, and it’s genuine. He wants to feel more of you, more of your touch, the sensation of warm safety he had been missing all these centuries.

“Do you want me to?”

“Please,” He bats his eyelashes at you. You laugh, “Okay, fine. Scoot over.”

Astarion does as he’s told and makes room for you as you rip off your clothes, placing yourself behind him as you bring the bucket of supplies into reaching distance.

He purrs happily, “There you are my sweet.”

You snort, taking a small pail from your bucket. You dunk it into the warm water and let it cascade over his white curls, letting the less stubborn of the blood covering him wash into the pool, staining it a light pink.

“Lean back for me,” You hold his head in your hands as you massage in the soaps, letting it sud up into a lovely cloud of bubbles, careful to not let it fall into his eyes. He sighs with every scratch, his pink ears twitching happily under your touch as you hum a sweet melody. It takes everything in him to not fall asleep right there.

“Rinsing…” You murmur, once again using the pail to rinse Astarion’s hair. As you coat your hands in conditioner, you make sure to not to pull or tug as you detangle the soft curls in your hands. They spill into your fingers like sea foam on the shore, whispering a soft apology when he flinches at a particularly stubborn knot.

“Enjoying yourself?” He mumbles, eyebrows not so knitted together than before. You look down at him, the slope of his nose, the light wrinkles and imperfections of his skin, faint freckles dotting his cheeks from exposure to the sun. His eyelashes, long and soft like the mop on his head. If Dame Aylin was an angel, perhaps he had just lost his wings.

“Very,” You chuckle, “Now sit up for me, I’m going to wash your body.”

“Oh finally,” He grins, and you gently tug at his cheek, “No naughty business, mister,” You whisper in his ear, body flushed with his. Little did you know that this action made his body light up in a flame, every part you touched him burning as hot as the sun.

That would be a very tall order from you, but one he would obey happily nonetheless.

You pull away from him to coat your hands in the next viscous liquid in your bucket, acquired from a lovely aromatherapist down by the market. You massaged it over his back, taking extra care to ease the tenseness in his shoulders as you brush over the scars on his back. You move to coat his torso, relishing in the way his heart beats so strongly under your touch as you ghost over his pecs, smoothly gliding down the soapy ambrosia to his hips. You ignore the way he shivers at the way you gently knead at his upper thighs, and you do not linger—much to his dismay—as you grab a sponge and suds over where you touched him, head resting on his shoulder as you individually scrub his dainty fingers. A warmth blooms in his lungs, a gnawing, awful, retching feeling—like his heart was going to swell out his chest. He blinks away tears as you run over his pulse. It was faint, but oh so much stronger when he was with you.

“You’re a tease, you know that?” He turns to you, caressing your jaw to make you look at him. You see him eyeing your lips, and you give in— planting the smallest kiss on his lovely lips.

“Better?” You smile as you see him pout, “Hardly,” he whines. You chuckle as you kiss his cheek, “Must I massage you as well?”

“Perhaps,” He huffs, “Anything to keep your hands on me, love.”

“Are you that starved of touch?” You motion for him to turn around and face you, taking one of his legs and repeating the cleaning process. It’s hard for you to keep your concentration on just soaping his legs— it was a simple task, but the temptation to stare at Astarion’s flushed face, hair slicked back and curled to frame his jaw, deep ruby eyes filled with a fondness you never would have expected to see when you first met him—was a greater desire than reading than trying to read that book of Thay.

“You underestimate how much I crave you my dear,” He laughs, “It rivals even my hunger for blood, you know.”

“Really?” You smirk, “Then am I to assume your love me more than your taste for blood?”

Astarion leans back against the rim of the tub, admiring you as you rinse his raised leg with such gentleness.

“Just barely.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised, before you melt into a shy smile, “Careful now, you can’t exactly eat my love for you, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dare. You’ve given me too much already.”

You splash him and he yelps, “That’s for implying you don’t deserve it.”

Astarion gasps, his exaggerated faux offense had grown on you, “Oh whatever do you mean, darling? Of course I deserve it, only a fool would deny himself the pleasure of your company.”

Yet behind that pompous smirk was a whirlpool of mixed emotions. Guilt. Gratitude. Shame. Fear. A deep terror of this respite in his cruel life coming back to bite him. You knew it all too well, he would always have trouble accepting that you loved him just for him. To accept that you wanted nothing more than to love and care for him just as much as he cared for you.

“Mhm, says the elf who punishes himself by isolating himself away from me.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “It’s not so much a punishment as more of…” He tries to find the words to bullshit his way out of this one, “an insurance. I don’t want you getting sick of me already.”

“Rather bold of you to assume I’d ever tire of your presence,” You retorted softly, setting down his leg to rinse in the bath.

He snorts, “And I thought I was a liar,” He teases, and that earns him another splash.

“Come on, let’s get you out of this bath before it gets cold.”

He frowns as you leave the tub, resting his chin in his arms as he rakes in the visage of your soaking wet body. You use the robe initially meant for him for yourself, grabbing another from the garment heater beside the sink.

“Ugh, do we have to?”

You raise a brow, “Do you want to get pruny?”

Astarion grimaces and relents, letting you help him out of the bath. His legs already felt like jelly from being submerged for so long, and the warm, fuzzy robe you put around him doesn’t help the feeling of his knees buckling in.

You wrap a towel around his head and begin drying his hair, smiling as he laughs in surprise.

“I’m not completely useless, darling,” He says, head still bowed down for you to dry. No attempt to stop you was ever made.

“I said I’d pamper you. That includes drying you off too.”

Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. You laugh, stopping your assault on his hair to look him in the eyes with the towel flopped on his head like a hood. A deep pool of ebony stared back at you, the red of his irises merely a thin ring around his pupils as he gazed at you like you were sent from the heavens itself.

A small smirk curls at his lips, “The gods made you to ruin me,” He kisses your cheek, inhaling your scent as he nuzzles into your neck. It was muted under his own, the one you now both shared thanks to that bath, but he can't help but find that small sliver of you more comforting.

You play with the silver curls between your fingers, petting him softly at the nape of his neck, “You’re rather fond of that line, aren’t you?” You kiss his neck, just a touch away from those puncture scars.

“It’s factual, is it not?”

“Not when you’re standing right here.”

He chuckles, the tips of his ears staining an even deeper red.

“You flatter me.”

Astarion leaves the sanctuary of your scent to look into your eyes once again, kissing you deeply with all the tenderness the both of you could physically muster.

“Let’s head to bed, shall we?”

#astarion #astarion acunin #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur’s gate tav #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion x reader #astarion x y/n #astarion x you #fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 tav #gender neutral reader #mild hurt comfort #hurt comfort #ao3 crosspost

[julieverne]

Five times Maura nearly kissed Jane but didn't (and one time she did)

One.

Maura helped Jane back to her feet. She'd slid home on her hip, and she rubbed it now with a wince, even as she celebrated her home run. Her face was filthy, and so was her outfit. She hobbled back to the bleachers to sit out the rest of the game, jumping to her feet to cheer on her teammates at what she considered particularly crucial moments.

Jane didn't shower in the park. She'd go home in her outfit - uniform, whatever, Maura never knew what to call Jane's outfits - and then she'd lounge on the couch in her shorts and her legs over Maura's lap, lovely bare legs, warm and brown and completely unaware of Maura's hands smoothing over them. Maura packed up early, anticipating the groan Jane made when she stood, her muscles locked up and aching from impact with the ground. She slung Jane's arm over her shoulders and let Jane lean on her as she led her to the car. They'd come together. Maura was staggered by the intimacy of their lives, how firmly they were entangled. If they ever fought, Maura would lose more than the half a husband would have taken from her. She'd lose almost everything. Her hand gripped tighter on Jane's waist, keeping her close.

---

Steam slowly huffed from the bathroom, followed by Jane's anxious face.

"Can you come look at this?"

Maura wanted to joke that she's seen Jane's ass before, but hope Springs eternal or so they say, so she gets to her feet, Jo whining as she displaced her from her lap. Jane had a towel wrapped around parts of her. Not really enough parts, but some parts. Maura flushed purely from the steam in the over warm bathroom. Nothing else.

"Can you clean this out for me?" Jane asked. Her ass was already bruising, Maura could tell. She could see. She could see Jane's ass. She shook her head, finding an indulgent smile on Jane's face when she met her eyes. Jane was pointing at a wound on her face that had previously been covered with dirt.

Maura nodded and took the offered qtip. She leaned Jane back against the counter and tilted her face back to the light. Jane's towel brushed against Maura as she dipped the qtip in antiseptic, then dropped down, trapped between their hips where Maura leaned against Jane to reach up to her face. Jane didn't reach for it. Maura didn't either; she was too focused on the scratch on Jane's face. She dipped tweezers in the antiseptic as well, then pulled out a little dirt and gravel. Jane's hands had been resting on the counter behind her, but now they reached for Maura's hips, squeezing a little as she dug into the wound.

"Do you think I need stitches?" Jane asked, her breath brushing across Maura's cheek. She chewed gum when she played ball; she claimed it brought her luck. She smelled fresh and clean from the shower, the lavender soaps she used, her breath a cinnamon cloud. Maura took a moment to parse the question, no less because she'd pulled away a little and now she could see more of - more of Jane.

"You'll live," Maura chuckled. She examined the graze again, then decided it was clean enough. She doused it again with antiseptic and dug out a band-aid from the cabinet behind Jane, leaning across her, their bodies pressing together, Jane's hard nipples pressing into Maura's chest. She unwrapped the bandage without looking at Jane until Jane's forefinger tilted Maura's chin up to look at her.

"Aren't you going to kiss it better?" Jane asked, her voice a little challenging, a little defensive. Her shoulders had stiffened, along with her nipples. She looked uncomfortable for having asked. Maura grasped Jane's chin and tilted it down, getting on her toes to kiss Jane's cheek next to the wound. She pulled away, aware of how close Jane's lips were, aware Jane's face had turned to hers a little so they were even closer now. She only had to lean forward just a little and she'd be kissing Jane. On the mouth. The way a woman kissed someone she was romantically or sexually interested in. The moment lasted a little longer than it should have, driven by indecision. Maura's heart beat erratically, causing her some concern. She could feel Jane's hands on her hips, Jane's sweet breath on her cheek, across her lips, inside her own mouth. She moved closer, just a little, and Jane didn't move away.

Normally Jane would be saying something sarcastic, something to dispell the tension between them, but today she was silent. Waiting. She'd moved closer again, too. Maura let her nose brush Jane's nose and cheek, then she caught her breath and her lip with her teeth as she pulled away, aware of the solid warmth of Jane's pelvis pressed against her, aware of Jane's bare breasts brushing her arm. Jane's exhale was thready and broken, her hands unsteady.

"All better," Maura said, swallowing against a thickness in her throat at the way Jane stared at her mouth as she spoke.

"Not quite," Jane said, catching her breath as well, pulling a shirt over her head and some pants on under the towel. Maura stepped back and hung the towel back up for her. Jane took a jar of tiger balm from the cabinet and offered it to Maura. "I'm going to need you to rub that into my bruises, Doctor Isles," Jane said, a little smirk on her face. Maura rolled her eyes, but later, with Jane strewn over her lap and her ass accessible and smelling softly of cinnamon, Maura couldn't ask for anything more.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #maura isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #ao3 crosspost

[softly-potter]

Cancer

Summary: Waking up in what he knows is a dream, Jaune spends the day with a family that could've been his had Beacon never fallen.

Inspired by 'Cancer' cover by Twenty-One Pilots

Pairing: Jaune x Pyrrha

Word Count: 4,327

Warning: none

-

Pancakes.

The first thing Jaune smells when he awakens is pancakes.

Sitting up, he runs his hand over his face, fingers spreading over the coarse hair of his beard. Or where his beard should have been. Pausing, Jaune flexes his hands over his face, surprised at the smooth skin and lack of facial hair. 

Bolting from his bed, Jaune takes in the unfamiliar room. Sunlight streams in through an open window, spanning over a bed with crumpled sheets. A full-length mirror is nailed to a wall, a lived-in couch settled next to it with a fluffy area carpet on the floor in front of it. The wood floor is sticky with summer heat beneath his bare feet, and when he spies Crocea Mors, he grabs it by the hilt, awaiting any danger that must be coming for him in this bedroom that is not his.

And then he hears it.

Singing. A soft, exhale of breath from somewhere outside the bedroom door. Gripping Crocea Mors hilt, Jaune presses against the wall, holding the sword in front of his face as he calms his breathing. The sun glints off the metal of his weapon, and he glances at it momentarily before his mouth falls open in shock.

Crocea Mors was broken. Or it had been, the last time he held it. Now it was shiny and sharp and whole again, within his grasp.

Jaune feels his hands shake, exhaling for a moment as he tries to gather his bearings. 

“I’m dreaming,” Jaune whispers, nodding to himself. “That's it, I'm dreaming.” he slowly lowers his weapon, gazes at his surroundings. Treading slowly, he pauses in front of the mirror, eyes going wide and Crocea Mors drops to his feet with a loud thud.

He’s young. Younger. His rugged face is replaced with a smooth expanse of skin, his eyes brighter, lips not so cracked. His hair is short, cropped, and when he touches his forehead his skin is slick with nervous sweat.

Jaune looks exactly like he did before he fell into the Ever After.

He huffs, letting out a short, humorous laugh. Whatever type of dream he was in, it was being extremely cruel.

“Jaune, are you awake?”

Somehow, the dream got crueler.

Jaune feels his heart beating irregularly as he slowly turns, eyes on the floor because he knows who he’ll see the moment he looks up. A pair of pale legs encased in fuzzy dark red socks greets him, and he swallows thickly, his hands trembling by his side.

“You’re awake! Good, I was about to come get you.”

Jaune can’t breath, can’t think, and he tries to exhale out through his nose, shutting his eyes in weak denial.

It’s quiet for a beat, and then he registers the sound of fabric sliding over the wood floor tentatively.

“Jaune? Are you okay?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Jaune shakes his head defiantly. He hasn't dreamed of her in so long. Some days he was able to completely block her out; so why now? And why like this?

He tries to swallow as the sound of fabric sliding echoes again, and he can almost feel how she's coming closer, and can hear her light intake of breath.

Vivid dreams of Pyrrha always left him in shambles.

A warm hand touches his bare chest and he flinches, takes a step back. “Don’t,” He hisses, still keeping his eyes closed. “Don’t.”

After several beats, he hears the fabric and feels two hands, warm and soft, on his neck, fingers pressed lightly. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

He reels back, the hands still on him and his back bumps the mirror. His eyes fly open, trying to steady himself, and when his gaze meets hers he thinks he could fall to his knees.

Pyrrha smiles at him in worry, her red brows pulled together as she scans his face. “Bad dream?” she whispers, her fingers gently rubbing his neck, moving to his shoulders before crawling up his neck and lightly cupping his face.

“I-” he tries, but words fail him as her thumb brushes over his lower jaw. In all the times he had dreamed of her before, he rarely got to touch her. Most times, they just spoke. He would apologize over and over again, and she would simply tell him she forgave him. He was never able to feel her warmth and alive against him, and he can think of a million things he could tell her but now his mind is quiet, just breathing her in.

Jaune contemplates informing Pyrrha that this is, in fact, a dream. But she smiles again, her green eyes light and easy, and he decides to play along.

“Yeah,” he says with a shaky exhale. “I just… I'm fine. Good morning. Sorry, afternoon? What time is it?”

Pyrrha laughs, the sound so sweet it makes him ache, and she shakes her head. “It’s nearly ten, but that's okay. I figured you could use the extra rest since you were up with the twins all night.”

Jaune nods quickly, scratches the back of his head. “Right… the twins.”

Pyrrha looks at him quizzically and before he can blink, presses a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. Dropping her hands from his neck, she turns. “Come! They’ve been waiting for you to wake up for breakfast.”

Jaune blinks, frozen in shock before he remembers himself and lifts from the wall, taking two steps forward and grabbing her hard around the waist. Pyrrha lets out a small sound of surprise that dissolves into a giggle, and he sags against her. Digging his face into her hair, Jaune breathes her in, registers the thumping of her heart with her chest and the feel of her hands on his wrists.

“Must've been some dream huh?” she chuckles, turns her head to try to look at him but he holds her still, because if she moves she’ll see the tears in his eyes.

“Sorry, I just, I missed you.” Jaune mumbles into her hair, squeezes his eyes closed. Pyrrha hums, twisting in his grip and wrapping her arms around his neck. He holds her close, nuzzles his nose into her neck and sighs.

“I’m right here, silly.”

Jaune nods, fingers expanding over her hip and shoulder as he hugged her. Pyrrha lets him, rubs his back quietly as if she understood a bit of his sadness. 

“Moooom!” comes a high pitched voice. Jaune lifts his head, eyes going wide and Pyrrha sighs in exasperation. She grabs his hand, tugs him along with her and he lets her.

“They’re… impatient this morning.” She laughs, and drops his hand as they make their way down wooden stairs. He reaches forward, snatching her hand in his again and she smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Settled at a dark mahogany table sits two identical children, a girl with curly blonde hair and a boy with bright green eyes. It makes Jaune nearly double over in agony. 

“Daddy, you're up!” the little girl shrieks. She drops from her seat, bare legs sprinting until she wraps her arms around Jaune’s leg. Pyrrha rolls her eyes in amusement, grabbing a stack of warm pancakes and placing them on the center of the table.

“Jen, let daddy wake up hmm? You kept him so busy last night!” Pyrrha says, and Jen, his daughter, releases his leg with a happy grin, raising her arms up. Jaune blinks, looks between his golden haired child and Pyrrha, before he spies the glinting ring on her left hand.

“We got married.” Jaune says softly. Jen seems confused, stretching higher on her tiptoes before she pulls at his sweatpants.

Pyrrha pauses, nods slowly. “I think daddy’s a little confused?” she says, her tone questioning. Jen pulls at his sweatpants again, harder this time. The little boy stands up on his chair, leaning across the table and gripping a pancake within his fingers. Pyrrha swoops forward, picking the child up by his hips and getting him back on his bottom. “Manners, Nike, just ask and mommy can grab it for you.”

“Daddy, up.” Jen says, her small fist clenching the fabric of his clothing. Slowly, Jaune bends and lifts her up, his forearm holding her to him. Jen grins happily, and he notices she’s missing a tooth.

She’s small and soft against him, her curly hair like a wild halo around her face, and she careens in his arms, aiming for the table.

“W-wow there,” Jaune says with a nervous chuckle. “Hold on, I'll get it for you.”

Sitting down at the table, Jaune places Jen on his knee to support her weight, and picks up a fork, pressing it into a pancake and onto an empty plate. Pyrrha sits beside him, leaning forward to cut Nike’s pancake into smaller, more edible bite sizes as the little boy huffs impatiently. Tearing off a piece with his fork, he holds it up to Jen’s face with uncertainty.

Jen lunges, bites the pancake clean off the forks end and chews happily. Jaune laughs, the feeling unfamiliar as it bubbles out of his mouth. Leaning into her palm, Pyrrha watches Nike fork his own piece, struggling momentarily before it makes it to his mouth and he gives his mother a triumphant look. 

“I love you guys.” Jaune blurts. Nike and Jen look unphased, continuing their attention on the pancakes but Pyrrha tilts her face towards him, her expression a mixture of worry and wonder. Reaching for him, she puts a hand on his knee, pats gently. Jaune coughs, cuts another pancake piece.

“We love you too,” Pyrrha says softly, and she looks between Jen and Nike. “Don't we?” Jen claps happily, biting the pancake offered to her, and Nike doesn't seem to have registered the conversation at all.

As they continue to eat, Jen wiggles her way from Jaune’s lap, haphazardly strutting around the table with flecks of pancake sticking to her rosy cheeks. The food is fluffy and sweet on his tongue, and Jaune tentatively ruffles Nike’s hair as he chews. The boy grins, food in his teeth and both Pyrrha and Jaune let out bellies full of laughter.

Running the plates under cool water, Jaune helps Pyrrha clear the table as the twins run through their home, their tiny footsteps pounding. He racks the dishes but finds it nearly impossible to tear his eyes from Pyrrha, her red hair loose and swishing as she moves. Spying his eyes, she smirks.

“Jaune, did you hit your head or something?” she asks and from her tone, he knows she's joking. “You’ve been acting like you’ve never experienced this before.”

“Whaddya mean?” Jaune says, tries to shrug his shoulders casually. 

Pyrrha puts the last dish away, leans against the lip of the sink. “I guess us. Or the kids. You’re looking at it all like… it’s a dream come true.”

Jaune swallows hard. “It is.” he whispers, wishing she could know how deeply he meant that. Placing the wet rag in the sink, he drapes his arm around her shoulder, drags her against him and she moves with ease, places her head against him lovingly. 

“I’m the luckiest guy alive.” he says, brushing his nose against the corner of her head. Pyrrha hums in agreement, pats his chest. 

“Moooom, Nike won’t share!” Jen cries, knocking herself against their legs. Jaune chuckles as Pyrrha leans down, lifting the girl into her arms. 

“That so?” she says, looking into the living room where Nike sits, his round face the picture of mock innocence, and it makes Jaune laugh harder.

After discussing hostage negotiations over the stolen toy, Jaune spends the day in awe of his family. He watches the twins play, helps them draw with stubs of colors. He drinks in Pyrrha’s movements, observing her actions as the day progresses. She’s seamless in everything she does, and he can’t help but be impressed. By the time night time arrives and books have been read, Jaune volunteers to put them to bed himself, slipping into the role of doting dad easily.

“Goodnight Jen,” Jaune says softly, leaning to press a kiss to the girl's forehead. She’s already half way to sleep, her large eyes fluttering closed. Moving to the other bed, he brushes his hand over Nike’s curls. The boy smiles sleepily, turns onto his side, blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

Straightening, Jaune finds Pyrrha watching him from the doorway. She’d changed into loose pajama shorts, her arms covered in an oversized top that hung on an angle so that her left shoulder was exposed, her collarbone sloping and begging to be kissed. Jaune swallows hard.

Closing the door of the twins bedroom behind them, they’re casted into a dim light and can barely make out her features.

“They seemed to go down easily.” Pyrrha whispers into the darkness. Jaune nods, and he doesn’t know if Pyrrha can see his actions in the dark but he doesn't care because he’s already reaching for her, pulling her to him. She inhales softly, her hands on his chest before snaking up and around his neck. Their foreheads touch and Jaune wants to kiss her, his hands on her waist, fingers pressing hard.

But he’d only kissed her once. And it had been a long, long time ago.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha whispers, bringing him back to the present. He swallows as she pulls back, her features barely lit as she tilts her head. When he says nothing, she continues. “I’m not sure what's going on with you but I'm right here. You can talk to me.”

Jaune shakes his head, begins pushing her backwards, toward their room.

“I don’t wanna talk,” He whispers. Pyrrha makes a whimper sound from the back of her throat, and she's warm in his hands as they bumpily make their way into their room. Jaune kicks the door closed behind them, his heart hammering as Pyrrha’s hands make it into his hair, tugging gently.

Pulling, her mouth is centimeters away from his and he ducks, her lips landing on his cheek as he drops his head, his hands tugging at the waistband of her shorts. If she notices his movements were purposeful, she doesn't say, lets her head drop back as Jaune presses his mouth to her neck experimentally.

Pyrrha sighs as he kisses her skin, the back of her legs hitting the mattress and she falls forward. He moves from her grasp and drops to his knees in front of her, tugging at her shorts and she lifts her hips to help him.

Jaune swallows hard when he takes in her cream colored panties, the flat expanse of her stomach, her ribs slightly visible as she breathes quickly. Hesitating, his eyes flick from the fabric to her face, and she smiles reassuringly. With a breath, he traces a finger along the seam of the underwear, and her skin is like molten against him.

Sitting up, Pyrrha tugs off her oversized top and Jaune feels himself instantly harden at her completely naked chest.

Mesmerized, he tries to remember the little he knows about sex. He wasn’t entirely unknowing on the subject, Jessica has been more than helpful in the limited time they’d spent together. Jaune racks his brain on places to kiss, to touch and caress but he’s thoroughly overwhelmed at the sight of Pyrrha’s mostly naked body under his grasp.

As if sensing his discomfort, Pyrrha smiles again, her expression soft at the edges, and she shimmies forward, unabashed in her nakedness.

“Stand up,” she whispers. He obliges immediately, and she stands with him, skirting her fingers on the hem of his waist. Looking at him through her lashes, she tugs them down in one motion and his skin becomes alight. Jaune steps out of them, and she grabs his hands, their fingers laced as they both stand in their underwear. The moonlight cuts through the window shades, dashing over her skin and casting her in a blueish light as she cocks her head, trying to read him.

“I’m sorry, Pyrrha.” Jaune whispers, his throat suddenly tight. She shakes her head slowly, squeezes his hands.

“For what?” she replies, tries to smile when she realizes his eyes are wet. “Oh honey, what's wrong?”

“I feel like I'm fading,” he whispers, looking away from her intense gaze. “Like, I can't… live. I never was good at living on my own. And after you, I just…” he doesn’t finish, barely able to keep up the pretenses of the dream but Pyrrha doesn’t question. He wonders how much of this she understands, if she grasps what he’s saying.

Bending her knees, she lowers herself a bit to catch his eyes, reaching a hand to his face. “Is that why you won’t kiss me?”

Jaune shrugs pathetically, touches the hand that is on his face. “The hardest part of all this is leaving you. I can’t kiss you.”

Another smile pulls at her face and she straightens her stance. Her hand moves from his face to his chin, gripping it tightly and making Jaune look at her.

“Then let me kiss you.”

He begins to protest but is silenced as her lips press on top of his. His hand drops, hanging by his sides and his eyes flutter shut, reveling in the softness of her. When Pyrrha pulls back, her green eyes are shimmering with concern and question, and he reaches for her quickly, pulling her back to him and kissing her hard.

Pyrrha makes a noise of surprise, her mouth smooth and tasting of cinnamon. Her arms are around his neck and he picks her up, legs slipping around his waist. He adores the weight of her, the softness of her against him, and he settles himself on the edge of the bed, running his hands up her naked back.

Somewhere between kisses and fingers pressing into flesh, pulling off underwear, Jaune pushes Pyrrha to her stomach, her head turning so she can look at him over her shoulder. His fingers dip between her legs and he groans, her heat sucking in his digit like a vice. She hums, pushing her lower half against his hand and the slope of her back arches. Jaune bites the corner of his mouth as he pumps himself once, twice before he aligns with her, and as he sinks in, his forehead drops against the back of her shoulder.

She makes a soft, hushed sound, half her face pressed into the pillow and Jaune pauses, allowing himself a bereavement before he moves. As he begins a slow pace, his chest heaves with heavy want, hand skirting over Pyrrha’s neck, her shoulders, her back. His hand grips the plush of her backside, squeezing.

Dipping his head, he licks a stripe up her neck and watches her fingers curl into the comforter. Pyrrha lets out a moan, her mouth falling open and it sends fiery energy straight to his core, making him pause so he didn’t finish what they had just started. 

Jaune hadn’t wanted to kiss her, but now the thought of doing anything else seems insane.

Sitting back on his haunches, Jaune pulls out slowly, sighing as he does so, and Pyrrha gives him a confused look over her shoulder. He grins, gripping her hips and in a fell swoop, flips her to her back. She lets out a gasp, a giggle following suit as he crawls up her naked frame, kissing any expanse of skin that he can.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his tongue dragging against hers as he slips his length up her slit in a slow, teasing manner. “Just wanted to be able to look at ya.” She nods, cups his face and sighs against his mouth as he slides himself inside her.

Jaune feels her ankles lock loosely behind his back as he moves, keeping himself slightly elevated above her. With her hair loose and fanned beneath her head, green eyes dizzy with stimulation and lips wet, Pyrrha looks like something of a fairy tale beneath him.

She groans, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth agape in a small ‘o’, her breasts bouncing lazily with each thrust. 

Dropping his head he kisses her again, trying to ignore the tight ball lodged within his throat. Pyrrha nips his lower lips, her hips canting upwards to meet him and when she comes, her cunt squeezes him so hard he nearly combusts.

Continuing his pace, Jaune helps her ride out the wave, watching in quiet amazement. Chest heaving, Pyrrha smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corner.

“F-fuck.” she says shakily and Jaune grins, his own pleasure growing but he doesn't want it to end. He wishes he could be buried in her forever.

Bringing his hand up, he cups the bottom of her jaw, thumb pressed to her chin, and kisses her lightly, licks into her mouth, swearing to commit the taste of her to memory.

“Jaune…” Pyrrha says softly, and when she brushes her thumb beneath his eye he realizes the tears that have formed on his face. He keeps moving, ignores the sorrow that threatens to split him in half, and she leans up, kissing him hard.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Pyrrha whispers, swallowing his lust and despair. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

Jaune lets out a choked groan, his eyes tight as he empties himself within her. He breathes heavily, crowding her space, pressing himself into her and she lets him, running her hands through his hair absentmindedly.

They lay quietly for a moment, and eventually Jaune sits up slowly, muttering as he pulls out. Pyrrha lets out a soft exhale, rubs her forehead with her finger tips. Laying on his back, Jaune stares up at the ceiling, waiting for his heart to slow and wipes away the remnants of his tears.

He stands, grabbing their clothes and after redressing, pulls Pyrrha’s top over her head, pushes her shorts up her legs. She watches him curiously, her neck turned slightly, and when he crawls back into bed, she puts her head against his chest, her arm over his waist.

“We should get some sleep.” she whispers quietly, and Jaune shakes his head in hesitant refusal.

“I-I can’t sleep,” he replies, his hand tracing up and down her arm and he swallows. “It’ll be over if I do, won’t it.”

To his surprise and chagrin, Pyrrha nods. “Yes.”

“I don't want it to be over,” he whispers, hating how his voice shakes. “I want to stay here with you, with them. I want this life. I want-”

“Life seldom cares what we want,” Pyrrha interrupts softly. She sits up, leaning on her elbow and looks at him. “You can’t stay in your dreams forever, sweetheart.”

Jaune blinks, his vision swimming. “Why not?”

Pyrrha smiles at him sadly, turning her head to look out the window. The moonlight drips over them like silver slices of silk, casting shadows along their limbs.

“Ruby will be here soon,” Pyrrha says, her gaze away from him. Jaune freezes, his hand stiff on her arm. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. “You won’t be alone for much longer. But you have to stay strong,” Pyrrha says, now turning to look at him. “For me, okay?”

Jaune shakes his head in miserable defiance. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes you can,” Pyrrha says, her voice thick with determination. “And you will. Because I believe in you.” Settling into his side, she lays her head on his chest once more. “I always have.”

Jaune bites his cheek hard enough to taste copper. 

As Pyrrha slips into sleep, Jaune fights it with tooth and nail. He strains his eyes, blinking sleep away, and takes in their bedroom, tries to commit the details to memory. He listens to Pyrrha sleep, the slow inhale and exhale of breath, the warmth of her skin against his, the feel of her hair draping over his shoulder. Tipping his chin he kisses her forehead, rubs his hand up her arm, and when sleep does finally claim him, he swears he inhales her cinnamon scent once more.

-

For once, he’s early.

Jaune is never late, his perfectly manicured schedule runs smoothly like always, but he never awakens early.

Jolting up in bed, he gasps, his heart hammering hard, threatening to explode from his chest. With shaky hands he presses his palm to his sternum, rubs a few times before he rakes a hand down his face. When he feels the coarse hair of his beard, he nearly chokes.

He is back, and he is alone.

Slowly, he stands from his bed, takes in his room, and exhales. As he shuffles to the window, he looks out at the lilac sky of the Ever After, and rubs sleep from his eyes. It’s when he pulls his hand from his face that he spots it. A star, a shining sparkle, growing larger by the second, zooming across the early morning sky. He wonders if it could be a shooting star, quickly dismissing the idea when he remembers it’s morning.

“Ruby will be here soon.”

Jaune’s eyes grow wide and he yanks the window pane open, stretching out to watch the sparkle as it zips across the sky in low descent. He cranes his neck to watch until it’s out of view, and he slams the window shut, clumsily dressing in record speed.

“Pyrrha was right,” he whispers to himself as he tugs on his boots. “She must’ve been right.”

As he runs from his shack, he absently wonders if the Paper Pleaser’s would notice his absence. He slips his rusted helmet over his head, inhaling through his nose and looking up at the sky. The purple hues have shifted to a creamy orange, with red splashing through the edges. As he moves, he watches the colors of his wife's hair shift to the colors of his childrens, and as the colors dissipate to a blue sky, he smiles.

#ao3 crosspost #ruby rose rwby #rwby jaune #jaune arc #jaune x pyrrha #ever after

[macthedrag0n]

and so we meet again (chp. 1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationship: Mizu/Original Female Character

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Bisexual Mizu, Second Chances, Abijah Fowler is Mizu's Father, Fluff and Angst, Past Mizu/Mikio

Word Count: 1,921

-> [AO3 LINK] <-

If there was a journalist tasked with studying the daily life of Mizu Nanase, they would quickly lose interest and beg their boss for a different job.

At least, that’s what Mizu believes would happen.

If you were to ask the blue-eyed Tokyo resident, she would tell you that her life was as far from interesting as it can get; she had few friends, rarely went out at night, and kept a strict workout regimen. While other 24-year-old women in the city would be out clubbing and meeting men, Mizu was in bed by nine o’clock and woke just before dawn every day to go for her daily run before work. She was an average salary-woman with an average office job, working her average nine-to-five shift before heading straight home to the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her roommate, a sweet college student named Kinuyo. To any outside perspective, this life seemed lonely, and it was, but Mizu wouldn’t admit it. She had spent many years convincing herself that she could find comfort and contentment in solitude, to keep a minimal life and focus on maintaining what she had in the current time instead of trying to cultivate relationships that would ultimately fall apart. 

This mindset was more than understandable for someone who had the track record of relationships that she did.

It was an average Friday night for the blue-eyed woman when it happened. She had been thoughtlessly switching through television channels, dressed in lounge pants with a convenience store beer in her other hand, when she felt the vibration of her phone from where it sat on the couch cushion beside her. Mizu paused her channel-surfing on some Western history documentary before glancing down at the lit-up screen. It was a notification from Instagram, a social media app Mizu really didn’t use but kept at the insistence of her friend Akemi. The pop-up itself wasn’t to indicate a new message or a new post from one of the few accounts she followed, but one of those “you might know this person” messages. Mizu had been getting those more often than direct messages, which spoke volumes to how reclusive she was to the friends she did have rather than the friends she could have. Deciding to humor the app’s algorithm, Mizu picked up her phone and tapped on the notification, allowing the app to open itself. She was expecting this potential acquaintance to be one of Akemi’s exes or even one of the handful of childhood peers who tormented her in middle school, now acting like self-made entrepreneurs or social media models.

But the person Instagram actually did recommend was a shock that was almost enough to make her drop her beer.

The account being displayed on Mizu’s phone screen was that of a blonde Asian woman. Her profile picture was that of what Mizu clocked as the Golden Gate Bridge in California, a key sign that all but confirmed her assumption on the woman. It wasn’t until she scanned the first three photos on the account that her conviction became even stronger. 

Blonde hair.

Upturned brown eyes.

A beauty mark just under the left corner of her bottom lip.

Oh, and the name on the account?

Kane Akiyama.

Mizu practically shot herself out of her seat, haphazardly placing her beer on the coffee table, before beginning to pace the room, now scrolling through the rest of the photos on Kane’s account. For an account with less than 500 followers, Kane did seem to post frequently; selfies, candid shots of wherever she was, food pics, group snapshots of her family, even a video here and there of her playing the guitar. With every post Mizu went through, the more and more the feeling of her heart pounding in her throat made her want to vomit or cry or both.

It was her.

It was her Kane.

The last time Mizu Fowler and Kane Akiyama saw each other was a hot August evening. The two girls, barely thirteen at the time, had spent the entire day together, doing anything and everything under the blazing sun. But at that moment, the sun was descending, an indication that their day of fun was coming to a close. But of course, that day was the best and worst day of that summer, as Mizu recollected how Kane cried the entire walk back to their neighborhood. A month prior to that day, Kane had broken the news to Mizu that her family would be moving overseas to America due to her mother getting a job transfer, a piece of news that seemed to break Mizu’s heart in an instant. So that prominent day was the last day the two friends would ever see each other again. After that day, Mizu spent the rest of the summer locked away in her room, refusing to go out or see any of her other friends. She went on to attend high school, something that became so much harder without her best friend to be there at her side. She was ridiculed for her mixed race heritage, shoved into walls and being subjected to desk graffiti and thermoses being emptied on her. It was a miracle she made it to graduation. Maybe she was holding onto the hope that she would one day be reunited with Kane?

Well, it sure seemed like it now.

A feeling of hesitance came over Mizu as her thumb hovered over the ‘follow’ button. Should she do it? It would be good to reconnect with someone she once held so dear and close to her heart. Kane was her closest friend for a long time before she moved away. What if America changed her? Well, it had been eleven years since they last saw each other, it would make sense that Kane wasn’t the same from middle school. But how much has America changed her? Did it change her for the worse? Was she a bad person and nothing like the girl Mizu once knew? Did she even want to reconnect? But if she did, how would Mizu know until she reached out?

Suddenly, her phone began to vibrate as an incoming call was displayed on the screen. The familiar face of Akemi took the place of Kane’s Instagram account. Akemi Tokunobu was a girl from a wealthy family back in Mizu’s hometown of Kyoto. The two women met three years prior, through Taigen, an old classmate of Mizu’s who had been pursuing Akemi behind her family’s back. Miu first found Akemi spoiled and arrogant, but over time the two of them became rather close. Akemi was the only other female friend (besides Kinuyo) Mizu has made since Kane left that fateful summer and it wasn’t long into the friendship that the two of them formed a bond closer to sisters than just friends. If there was one person Mizu tried to keep in constant contact with, it was Akemi.

It didn’t take long for Mizu to accept the call and raise the phone to her ear. “Akemi?”

“Hey, Mizu!” The cheery sound of Akemi’s voice came over the speaker. “Look, I know you said you aren’t really a club girl, but there is this one cocktail bar that opened in Kabukicho and I think you’d really like it. I took Taigen last weekend and-”

“I found her.” Mizu blurted out, cutting Akemi off completely.

There was a pause before Akemi spoke again. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I found her.” Mizu repeated. “Kane. My old friend from school.”

“The blonde girl you were in love with?”

Mizu’s face turned an instant red at the question. “She was my friend, Akemi.”

“Yes, your friend that you pinned for pathetically.”

“Akemi.”

“Sorry, sorry. So you found her. Is she in town or…?”

“No, I found her Instagram account. The app suggested it to me, believe it or not.”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“Well, maybe Instagram realized that you have literally no social life and decided to reconnect you with the last person you were happiest with?”

Now Mizu’s face had to be the color of a cherry. “Are you bullying me?”

“Oh, absolutely. We haven’t talked for a hot minute so I have to make up for lost time.”

“Real funny, Akemi.”

“I try my best.”

Mizu let out a groan of frustration. “Anyways, I found her account. Should I follow her?”

“Do you not want to follow her?”

“I mean… I would like to reconnect with her.”

“Okay, so follow her and send her a message.”

“Wouldn’t that be too much?”

“....you just said you wanted to reconnect with her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“How else would you be able to reconnect with her, Mizu?”

Mizu paused, thinking for a few moments. “I… I think I still have her mother’s email address.”

“You have her mom’s email? My god, are you twenty-four or fifty-four? Who sends emails anymore?”

“Okay, okay!” Mizu exclaimed. “I won’t send her mom an email. I should send her a message?”

“Yes, and make sure you tell her who you are and that you want to reconnect. Nothing too lengthy, just short and to the point.”

“Alright.”

“And I know you don’t use Instagram, so if she wants to reconnect, make sure to give her a social media account you do use. Or at least your username on WhatsApp.”

“Yeah, alright. Okay, I can do that.”

“Okay, cool. So, I take it you don’t want to go out tonight?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, while I’m still in town, do you want to at least get something to eat near your place?”

“Yeah… Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be at your building in ten minutes. Please don’t come down in your pajamas this time, okay?”

Mizu huffed. “It’s just dinner between friends, Kemi.”

“Yes, but it’s dinner with me. You need to be presentable in case anyone sees me and snaps a picture. Don’t need to have any dating speculations between us.”

“Right, you already have enough of those with Taigen.”

“Very funny, Mizu. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Bye.”

As soon as the call ended, the sight of Kane’s Instagram account returned on screen. Once again, Mizu found herself hesitating. Akemi was right, though. How else was she supposed to reconnect with someone if she didn’t reach out to them? And if Kane didn’t want to reconnect, she would ignore the message or simply say so. There was no harm in this.

And so, after taking a deep breath to center her nerves, Mizu tapped the ‘follow’ button.

She then tapped the ‘message’ button and, after a few minutes of typing and deleting and typing again, she came up with a good enough sounding message;

Hello Kane. You may not remember me, but I am Mizu Fowler. We went to middle school together and were best friends for a while before you moved to America. I came across your account thanks to Instagram’s suggestion and I thought it would be great if we reconnected. If you do not wish to, I completely understand. I hope that you are healthy and happy, wherever you are. 

After rereading it a couple of times, Mizu finally tapped the arrow button, sending the message. She then immediately locked her phone and placed it on the kitchen counter so she could start getting ready for her dinner plans with Akemi. It was another seven minutes before the phone vibrated, this time with a message displayed on the screen:

Holy shit.

#ao3 crosspost #fanfic #fanfiction #oc fanfiction #oc insert #bes oc #blue eye samurai oc #oc x canon #mizu x oc #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #bes mizu x oc #macthedrag0n #ao3 fanfic #ao3

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝐼: 𝐹𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝐻𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒 ⚜

Oops, I guess it wasn't a one-shot after all. Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: gunshot, car chase, canon-typical violence, John and Vincent bickering constantly

Summary: John Wick and The Marquis de Gramont both faked their deaths on that fateful day at the Basilica. But when Vincent seeks John's help, he isn't expecting genuine compassion.

Vincent was fine, actually. Crying? Someone had been crying five minutes ago? Definitely not him.

So John wanted to help him, presumably out of some deranged fit of loneliness. Who really cared why. This was the best news possible. He would be reinstated in no time.

He reclined on John’s couch as if it had been his idea to do so all along, swinging one leg absently over the side while his host dashed back and forth through the house, packing. This rushing around had started the very moment that Vincent stabilized. They’d already waited too long, probably, to leave. The Table would know that he could only be going to one place if he had come to New York, and they would converge on the location. The Wick residence had just become a deathtrap.

But that didn’t concern Vincent terribly - John seemed intent enough on addressing the issue. He went downstairs with an empty duffle bag, came up with a holster around his waist and the duffle bag full, went upstairs in a t-shirt, came down in a black vest under a matching suitcoat. Vincent contemplated whether it was drab. Maybe not, maybe more like “morose.” But well-fitted, at least.

There was something coming down the stairs after John, something that growled and moved a little too quickly towards the couch, halted only by a leash.

“Hey.” John stopped by the coffee table with a harsh look that brought his bulldog to a sit. “We’re gonna be nice to the Marquis, yeah?” It whined apprehensively, casting a suspicious glance in Vincent’s direction, but stopped growling.

Vincent eyed it back with at least as much suspicion. “Is it trained? I don’t want some mutt biting at my heels in the midst of a fight. We’d be better off leaving it behind.”

That harsh look shifted from the bulldog to the Marquis.

“I need you to listen very closely. This is important. You remember what I did to Iosef, yeah? If that dog dies, you die. I have no interest in your marker if that happens. You do not treat him as something you can sacrifice to save yourself. He IS you, got it?”

“C'est un putain de – [It’s a fucking –]”

“He’s you. A vital body part, like your liver.”

“If you knew how a man who can afford the finer indulgences in life treats his liver, you might reconsider your metaphor,” Vincent shot back, smirking.

“Okay, your heart then. But just. Vital. Okay?’

As he realized the purpose of this conversation, something bitter sunk into his stomach and he felt his cheeks flush. “You don’t need to explain empathy to me like I’m a child. I have dogs, you know that, yes? Cats, horses, swans, a peacock…” He strained to remember the more exotic creatures in his collection. Did he buy that hyacinth macaw, or did he choose the palm cockatoo instead? He hadn’t seen the bird since, so he couldn’t be sure.  “Anyway, you know nothing, as usual.” Already this man was insulting him again. Unbelievable.

John just sighed. “Up. We have to go.” He extended a hand that couldn’t have tempted Vincent any less if it had been coated in live wasps. He gave John a look so icy that it earned another whimper from Dog, and struggled upright on his own.

He didn’t trust himself to speak on the walk to the garage. Every step, every tilt of the shoulders, winded him. Maybe shock had been a blessing - he realized that most of the pain had been numbed. But now it was back, tracing a stabbing, fiery line across the pectoral into the bone. It certainly seemed to be aggravated by certain movements, to get worse, but mysteriously, he could never quite detect a moment when it was better. It was a damn trick of the body that took over his vision with a total miasma of pain.

He didn’t even notice John’s hands on him until he was already being lowered into the passenger seat with surprising gentleness. The bulldog was already in the back. Had he blacked out for a second? Massive, muscled hands gripped either side of his waist securely, those darkly troubled eyes peering into his with such maddening concern. This condescending piece of work buckled…his fucking…seatbelt…for him. “Je te déteste [I hate you],” he managed, almost slurring.

“Good. We need you hateful. You want a grenade?”

“I – what? Yes, give it to me.” That woke him up quickly enough. “I’ve never wanted anything so much.”

John dropped the duffle bag in his lap and circled around to the front seat. The engine purred to life. “There’s already a blockade at the end of the street. We cut through the neighbor’s fence. Grenades go out the back after we’re past them.”

The garage door rolled slowly back and for a few short minutes, everything was okay again. Everything was giddy, in fact. It was just after dusk, the sky greying slowly from indigo to black. A quiet, peaceful evening that Vincent couldn’t wait to rip to shreds. With both windows rolled down, the night air rushed between them in a roaring channel of wind that sent John’s hair whirling. A dark little ball of fire turned over and over in Vincent’s hand, and there were more where that came from. John put the pedal to the floor, the acceleration pressing Vincent into his seat and sending a thrill through him as they shot straight through the neighbor’s white picket fence and left two tire treads in a streak across their manicured lawn.

An orderly line of cars scrambled to turn and give chase, bullets striking the taillight, the back window, the trunk. You think you can open fire on the rightful Autem Imperator? He fixed his eyes on them in the rearview mirror, pulled the pin with his teeth, and let them have all the pent up fury of the past miserable day.

Shattered glass and burning bodies. Orange roses and golden filigree painted against the sky. John flying, gliding lane to lane, firing over his shoulder, blind.

Pin. A moment of stabbing pain from the pec all the way through the throwing arm (suddenly worth it). Unfurling flames. Another pin. Another! Could he get this one through the shattered windshield into this idiot’s lap? Yes. He was laughing despite the way every breath stabbed through his chest, every stab fueling the next throw. He was drifting in John’s polished Mustang as it gave its life for him, slowly being riddled with holes but still kicking as the people who hated him spun out in confusion or died screaming in pillars of fire.

They abandoned it some ten minutes later, and jacked a boring white BMW, partly to avoid being followed and partly because it had rattled to a stop all on its own thanks to engine damage. John looked at the previous vehicle for a long moment as he lingered by the driver’s side door. “I like that car.” A simple thing to say, but so loaded given the circumstances.

“It handled like a dream. But at this point, it’s not worth fixing,” Vincent said casually. “You may as well get something even better when this is all over.” He set the final grenade back in the bag, still grinning at the memory of what he had just done.

“No. I want this one and I’ll fix it.” He put the dog in the passenger seat and turned to Vincent at last. “Get in the back this time. Laying down. Better if you don’t get spotted.”

It did sound good to lay down. “…Fine. But if you try to buckle me in again, I’ll cut off your whole hand to match that finger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He laid down across the backseats. It wasn’t a great fit for someone of his height, but with his legs folded, he managed. In the meantime, John was rooting around in the trunk. He found a throw blanket, probably meant for someone’s pet, and tossed it to Vincent. “Put that over your face, so no one sees you through the windows.”

“It smells disgusting.”

“Just do it.” Vincent was in a good enough mood now not to argue. He grinned up at the ceiling, finally allowing himself to relax as they pulled away. “That was rather exhilarating.”

“Yeah.” There was a hint of a smile in John’s voice.

“So. Where are we going?”

“That depends. Who’s on your side?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we can’t unrun them. You need to solve this. Who would help you with the High Table problem?”

“Are you a simpleton? I’m excommunicated. No one will offer services to me.”

“…Is there really not one person who has a history with you? Who would help you just because of that?”

“Your naiveté astonishes me yet again, Wick. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.” The only person who would have helped him for his own sake was Chidi. A pang went through him at that thought. And here was John lording it over him. He swallowed hard and added, “Do you honestly think anyone has helped you just because they’re on your side? At best, people fear you. They see you for the killer that you are and wish to ingratiate themselves to you. No one would want to help you. Maybe you got lucky, found one woman who was confused enough to think of you as worth saving. But look where that got her.”

The car lurched forward with the tiniest increase in speed as John lost control of the gas pedal for a moment in his anger. “Why? Why do you go for the throat like that? I just barely start to have a pleasant conversation with you and then - This is why there’s no one who has your back.”

“At least I know it. I rely on my own strength. You on the other hand - ”

“Forget it,” he spat. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. I’ll just find somewhere to spend the night, next state over.” A tense silence fell between them.

Several minutes later: “…I’m sorry. About your bodyguard.”

Why did this bastard have to be so raw about everything? “…That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Mm-hmm.” The silence resumed, somehow even more tense, but with an entirely different flavor. Vincent found himself holding his breathe, as if John could hear the lump in his throat if he exhaled wrong. Damn him. He was determined not to cry twice in one day.

They took a scenic route into Pennsylvania, avoiding the toll roads. Vincent gazed out of small gap at the edge of the blanket, gradually beginning to shake again. From that low angle, he could see the near-perfect circle of the moon. The radio warbled on about weather next week and love confessions and affairs. He would almost find this moment peaceful, except…there was that horrific, continuous, world swallowing ache from the center of his chest. An ocean of blood no longer restrained. A fracture in the bone at the core of his body. He could not take this kind of pain, he thought. It was an absurd, even a comical amount of pain. He simply could not take it. He should say something to John, perhaps…but he didn’t. And the world began to dissolve.

At last, Vincent de Gramont passed fully into unconsciousness, and dreamed that he was buying a fine show horse. A jet black Orlov, with a star at the center of its forehead. Ribbons of white sheen glimmered down its shiny withers like a freshly waxed autobody. He mounted it for a first ride, eager to inspect his new wares. And as he did so, the spirited creature read something in his motions that was unworthy of trust, something he could neither have predicted nor suppressed. It seemed so unfair… The horse tossed its dark mane, and reared up in terror, and threw him onto the brambles below…onto a jutting tree branch that impaled him through the sternum, far deeper than the bullet had ever sunk.

(Author's note: An Orlov is a Russian horse breed.)

#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers

[lockes-woods]

Stuck Chapter 21

Himiko sighed to herself as she sorted through her notes for the semester from her economics course. The papers formed a semi-circle around her on the floor where she sat back resting against the bottom of the couch. She had pushed the coffee table a few feet forward once realizing that it was too small to accommodate all of her notes, textbook, and laptop. While she didn’t have this exam until next Thursday she was already stressed. She was always better at studying more abstract ideas like ethics, and philosophy or things that were memorization based. She wasn’t worried about her ethics or abnormal psych finals; they were both essay exams. Economics had been kicking her ass the whole semester. She was barely maintaining a B; this exam was going to be the deciding factor on whether or not she would maintain her grade or get a C. Her focus was pulled from her computer screen as her phone buzzed against her side.

 She smiled absentmindedly when she realized she had a new message in DILF’s group chat.

Shanks: How’s studying going?

She snapped a selfie that captured her and Anko who was lying above her on the couch.

Himiko: Fine. Anko’s been supervising me for the last hour.

Himiko: [IMAGE]

Mihawk: Cute. Don’t forget to take breaks every so often.

Shanks: Do you want anything in particular for dinner?

Himiko: Maybe something quick. I’m starting work at 8 tonight.

Shanks: I could grab a pizza on the way home.

Himiko: K sounds good

Mihawk: Good luck with study love. See you at 6

Himiko smiled down at the text. A push notification came in from her money transfer app right before she went to set it down. She paused, trying to remember if any of her friends owed her money. Her confusion only lasted a moment before she realized it was her payment from the DILFs. While she knew factually that she had been working for them for two weeks it didn’t feel like it had been that long. She dropped her phone in shock as she took in the amount of berries and comas on her screen. It was the most money that had ever been in her bank account. This payment easily covered her rent, not her share but the whole rent and her average cost of food and other necessities for a whole month. She couldn’t wrap her head around how this payment was only for two weeks of service. After sitting in silence for a while she slowly eased out of her initial shock and took a screenshot of her banking app. She swiped over to her messaging app.

Himiko: Please tell me you’re sitting down

NomNom: I am. Is everything okay?

Himiko: Brace yourself

Himiko: [IMAGE]

NomNom: …

Himiko sat and waited for a response as she saw Nami’s ellipses appear and disappear half a dozen times. She was about to text her to see if she was okay before her caller ID alerted her that Nami was calling.

“Is this real?” Nami asked, with an air of calmness that Himiko was not expecting.

“I think? I just got the notification.” Himiko responded, “I’m not sure if they meant to send me this amount. It sorta feels like it was a mistake.”

“How much did you agree on before setting up this arrangement?” Nami asked.

“I don’t know if we ever nailed down an exact number,” Himiko said racking her brain, “They said that they’d cover my cost of living and asked me how many hours I average a week,”

“Okay and how many hours did you tell them,” She asked.

“I think I was honest and said 50-60 depending on the hours I could get,” Himiko responded.

“Okay, I could see them getting in the ballpark of that number if they paid you a living wage.” Nami tried to reason, “I’d talk to them before spending any of it.”

“That makes sense,” Himiko agreed glancing at the clock, “They’ll be home in about an hour.”

“It’d be insane if it is really that much money,” Himiko said after a moment.

“My only other thought is that maybe they’re paying by month?” Nami responded.

“I thought that too, but I’ve only been employed by them for two weeks,” Himiko replied.

“Damn, okay I gotta get back to studying; Vivi’s been gesturing to the clock for the last minute. Keep me posted.”

“’Kay I will, bye,” Himiko replied.

“Bye,” Nami said.

For the next hour, Himiko tried her best to focus on studying but found herself glancing at her phone every few minutes. No matter how hard she tried to distract herself her attention would immediately go back there. She had finally started to dissect a graph when she heard Anko spring up behind her and zoom to the kitchen, seconds later she heard the door open. She immediately knew Shanks was home; Anko only ever greeted him like that. The only time she’d give Mihawk or her any attention was in his absence. She remained seated as she heard him puttering around in the kitchen before coming over to her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said leaning down to steal a quick peck from her before pulling back. “How’s studying going?”

“Okay,” She responded as she started to collect and organize her papers, “I only got through about 20% of the course so far,”

“When is this exam?” he asked sitting down on the couch to her left.

“It’s not ‘til next Thursday afternoon,” she responded, sliding her things back into her school bag.

“That’s pretty good, you still have six more days to study,” Shanks said.

“I guess,” Himiko conceded, “I just hate cumulative tests like this and anything involving numbers.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, aren’t your other two exams take home?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, standing up from the floor and stretching. Her and Shanks’s attention snapped to the door as Mihawk entered the apartment. A smile tugged at her lips as she wandered over to greet him, Shanks hot on her tail. She was again greeted with a quick peck.

“Hey,” he said, pulling away from the kiss.

“Hi,” she responded with a smile, before stepping to the side so Shanks could get in.

“Do you want a salad?” Mihawk asked after pulling back from Shanks and hanging his bag and coat up.

“Sure,” Himiko answers as the three of them make their way into the kitchen. She hopped up on a stool while Mihawk got things for salad out of the fridge and Shanks turned on the oven and placed a few slices of pizza in to warm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I want a salad?” Shanks asked as Mihawk lined up three bowls.

“You’re eating a salad,” Mihawk dismissed.

“What, why does Himiko get a choice,” Shanks said exasperated.

“Because she’s a responsible adult who is able to get her daily vegetable and fruit intake- and don’t you dare say that coffee counts as fruit,” Mihawk said, giving Shanks a pointed look.

“If coffee doesn’t count as a fruit, then where does it go on the food pyramid,” Shanks argued.

“I’m not having this argument again.” Mihawk sighed sliding a salad in front of Himiko and Shanks.

“It comes from a cherry plant.” Shanks continued to argue.

“What kind of dressing would you like?” Mihawk asked, ignoring Shanks.

“What kind do you have?” She asked.

“Ceasar, poppy seed, sesame ginger,” Mihawk listed looking through their condiments.

“Sesame please,” Himiko said, as Shanks all but pouted down at his salad.

“My sandwich at lunch had lettuce and tomato.” He muttered.

“You do realize you need five servings of fruit and vegetables per day,” Mihawk responded, unimpressed as he passed Himiko the dressing. Shanks sighed, before adding some dressing to his salad and taking a reluctant bite.

“How was work?” Himiko asked.

“Fine, I only had planned surgeries and was able to catch up on some paperwork,” Mihawk answered between bites.

“I was prepping for a court case that is scheduled for the week after we get back from the trip.” Shanks answered, finishing off his salad, “Oh we also finally got a court date for your assault case It’s set for late next month.”

“That’s good to hear, it kinda felt like they forgot about me,” Himiko said after taking a bite of her salad.

“Yeah, these things can be slow going. Two months is on the longer side, but I’ve seen cases put off even longer.” Shanks started, “Oh also because of the nature of our relationship I won’t be representing you, one of the other partners Benn Beckman will be.”

“That makes sense,” Himiko nodded in response, as Mihawk collected the bowls and served the pizza, “Speaking of the nature of our relationship; I had a question about the payment.”

“Was it not enough?” Shanks asked, genuinely.

“What, no,” Himiko said in shock, “I was wondering if you accidentally sent too much.” Both men paused and pulled out their phones.

“No, that’s definitely the right number,” Shanks confirmed as he took a bite of pizza.

“For two weeks?” She asked.

“Yes,” Mihawk confirmed.

“Where did you get that number from?” She asked.

“When we asked you your maximum amount of hours for a week you said 60. So that number is 40 hours of you being paid a living wage and then 20 hours of time and a half for overtime for two weeks.” Mihawk explained casually.

“But I don’t make a living wage at work I’m paid the city’s minimum wage. Also, I’ve never qualified for overtime at either job because I only ever work 30 hours max.” Himiko said confused.

“Noted, but we never said we’d be paying you minimum wage before this arrangement started,” Shanks said, in between bites.

“So, you can afford to pay me that rate every two weeks indefinitely?” She asked, still perplexed. The couple shared a look before Mihawk responded.

“Yes, if we couldn’t afford to pay you that much, we wouldn’t have pursued you in the first place. That’d be like going out to eat at an expensive restaurant and not being able to afford to tip.”

“Sorry, but I still don’t get how can you afford to drop that much money twice a month.” She responded.

“Sweetheart, not to list the exact number of how much our combined salaries are, but we make enough that that amount of money isn’t going to make us sweat,” Shanks explained.

“There’s nowhere else where you could better spend that money at that frequency?” she asked, still not fully convinced.

“No,” Mihawk answered glancing at Shanks for confirmation, “We’ve already maxed out our 401k’s, own two properties, and have other investments in a diversified portfolio.”

“So, this is basically just residual money that you could have spent on any nonessential thing?” she asked, finally starting to see the whole picture.

“Yeah, basically,” Shanks agreed, “I guess you could call it ‘fun’ money if that makes it easier to understand. Your payments are like us getting a new luxury car.”

“Except instead of buying something with little to no longevity we’re investing in a relationship with you,” Mihawk added on.

“Okay,” Himiko nodded, she took a bite of her forgotten pizza as she took in all this new information. While she knew they were far from struggling she couldn’t even imagine them being this well off. She knew if they did tell her exactly how much they made she wouldn’t even be able to picture it or maybe even comprehend it.

“Have you taken any thought on what you’d like to do while we’re at the cabin?” Mihawk asked, snapping Himiko out of her head.

“Only a little bit, I mostly focused on studying today. I’m definitely interested in ice skating, hiking, and the spa.” She answered, going for another slice of pizza.

“Do you want to go skiing or snowboarding at all?” Shanks asked.

“Hmm, not really. I’m not very coordinated and I have a really bad fear of heights, so I doubt I’d be able to handle the ski lift.” Himiko started, “But the lodge inside the ski resort looks really nice. I could always read in there while you’re on the mountain.”

“That’s true,” Mihawk nodded, “Do you have any hiking boots or skates?” Himiko paused for a second before shaking her head.

“I don’t think so, if I ever owned skates I most likely would have had to donate them when we moved to the next location. We always had to pack light and they would have taken up too much room.” Himiko answered.

“Okay, we should probably set aside some time to buy them this week, so we don’t have to rush before we leave,” Mihawk suggested.

“I can take her shopping for the skates on Monday. You should probably be the one to get hiking boots since that’s more in your expertise.” Shanks said looking at Mihawk.

“Okay, we should be able to go on Tuesday, I know you don’t want to do anything other than study on Wednesday,” Mihawk responded.

“’Kay, that works for me,” Himiko agreed, glancing at the clock.

“I should probably go change if I want to get in on time,” she said pushing herself away from the counter.

“You aren’t taking the subway, are you?” Shanks asked.

“I mean yeah, it’s only 7:20.” She replied.

“But it is dark out,” Shanks said.

“It’s winter it gets dark out at 5,” Himiko argued, “Plus it’s only a ten-minute subway ride from here.”

“Shanks does have a point; crime rises after sunset.” Mihawk pointed out.

“It’s only a 20-minute commute, don’t you trust that I can handle myself for that long,” Himiko asked.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, we just don’t trust the rest of the city,” Shanks said, Mihawk nodded in agreement.

“Fine I’ll take a car,” Himiko sighed as she retreated to the guest bedroom to get dressed. While she didn’t agree with them, she did know that she’d be late if the conversation turned into a full-fledged argument. She pulled up the ride-share app and scheduled a ride before changing and heading back to the kitchen.

“You’re also getting a car home right?” Shanks asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed reluctantly as she pecked him on the cheek. Before she could fully pull away, he caught her waist and pulled her in for a real kiss. She let out a whine at the sensation of his stubble rubbing against her face. She placed a firm hand on his chest and forced herself to pull back before he could deepen the kiss.

“I have to go to work.” She said.

“Do you though? You could always call out.” Shanks argued as he rubbed gentle circles into her hip.

“Yes, I have to go in. I’m not going to make Zoro work a shift with a man down because I didn’t feel like going.” She replied firmly.

“Fine,” Shanks said reluctantly letting go of her. She turned and kissed Mihawk before her phone buzzed and alerted her that her driver was only a few minutes away.

“’Kay I’m heading out,” she said pulling on her jacket and shoes, “I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight, so I don’t wake you up when I get home.”

“You don’t have to do that, it’s not like we work tomorrow,” Mihawk said.

“You’re saying that now, but let’s see how you feel at 4:30 in the morning,” Himiko said, giving herself a final once-over before heading out.

“Night,” she waved,

“Good night,”

“Be safe,” Shanks and Mihawk answered in sync as she let herself out. She pulled out her phone and immediately texted Nami as the elevator descended.  

Himiko: The number was right.

She kept a tight grip on her phone as she exited the apartment complex and climbed into her ride’s car. Himiko was thankful that the driver wasn’t chatty as she sat in silence after they confirmed she was in the right place. Himiko’s attention was jerked down at her phone’s vibration. She immediately picked up after seeing the caller ID.

“Oh my god,” Nami greeted.

“Oh My God,” Himiko replied.

“OH MY GOD” Nami shouted, causing Himiko to jerk the phone away from her ear.

“Is that like for the month?” Nami said excitement clear in her voice.

“No, only two weeks,” Himiko responded, glee clear in her voice.

“That’s fucking insane,” Nami shouts, matching Himiko’s energy.

“I don’t even know what to do with this kind of berries,” Himiko said, overwhelmed, “I think I can actually start using my savings account.”

“Okay, okay,” Nami said clearly trying to reel in her excitement, “I think you should put away all the money for bills aside, put half the remaining berries in savings, and then-

“That still leaves a stupid amount of berries.” Himiko said, unintentionally cutting her off, “Should we go out?”

“I think we should go out,” Nami agreed after a beat. Immediately losing her pragmatism.

“Fuck, okay, okay,” Himiko said, trying to reel in her excitement, “After we go to the diner on Thursday we should go out.”

“I’m down and so is Vivi,” Nami replied, a smile clear in her voice.

“’Kay, I’ll be seeing Zoro in less than five minutes, so I’ll ask him then,” Himiko replied.

“Okay, I’ll double-check with the rest of the crew and see if they can make it,” Nami said.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Himiko responded as she pulled up to the bar and climbed out of the car.

“’Kay, be safe. Talk to you later.” Nami said before hanging up.

Himiko couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she circled the building and entered through the employee entrance. She was greeted by the back of Zoro’s head as he hung up his jacket.

“Hey,” Himiko greeted hanging up her jacket and purse.

“Hey, someone’s in a good mood,” Zoro commented. Himiko peeked around the corner outside the nook they were standing in to make sure they were alone before responding.

“I just got my first payment,” she whispered screamed at him.

“From the DILFs?” he asked in a low voice; she nodded in response.

“We’re going out to celebrate Thursday night, I’m paying. You in?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied, “That actually reminds me, are you free next Saturday?”

“I think so, why?” she asked.

“I got invited to the winter gala that the hospital’s hosting for being the top of my class this semester; do you want to come?” he asked.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask Sanji?” she asked back.

“Yeah, it was actually his idea that I ask you.” He responded, “He does want to pick out your outfit though if you do come.”

“Sure,” Himiko agreed, “I’ll have to double-check that Mihawk’s okay with me being there, but other than that I think I can make it.”

“Sounds good,” Zoro nodded.

“HIMIKO, ROANOA you got 60 seconds to get your asses up to the front of house,” They heard their manager, Marcus, yell from his office down the hall. They shared a smile before clocking in and rushing to the front.

MASTER LIST

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

A/N: Hey, I hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter. Even if it was mostly a filler chapter to set up for the next few chapters. I promise I didn't forget about the assault case, I've been putting off mentioning it to highlight how slow the US judicial system is especially in big cities. I'm so excited to write the clubbing chapter for chapter 22. Not to give too much away but it may involve someone coming on to Himiko and the DILFs' reaction to that. I wasn't planning on writing an update for another couple of weeks, but I had to be tech support for my uncle as he did his taxes and literally had nothing else to do while I waited for him to finish filing. He didn't even end up finishing tonight so depending on how long it takes him tomorrow there might be an update sooner than planned. Thanks as always for taking the time to read this, ^-^

-Locke

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #red haired shanks #red haired shanks x dracule mihawk #red haired shanks x dracule mihawk x reader #red haired shanks x reader #modern au #sugar daddy au #surgeon mihawk #dilf mihawk #dilf shanks #ao3 crosspost #stuck

[juggalomary]

My trusty dusty iPhone se broke so now I’m sad.

But the grind never ends. I’m on an iPad now and have a iPhone 7 at my disposal. New fic posted last night, teen ghoap (implied). Juiceboxes and pyros. I constantly made jokes about roach getting lit up.

#fanfic #ghoap #ao3 #soapghost #ao3 crosspost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #i’m sad

[kaorisun]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (3)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : hurt no comfort, angst, canon divergence

word count : 4.88k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : “Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.”

or

The full story.

Yanqing wears his heart on his sleeve.

Given this fact, you truly should’ve figured that Jing Yuan would know exactly who had taken his diary upon discovering it missing.

However, this thought doesn’t cross your mind, so when Jing Yuan arrives at the clinic that night to search for his young apprentice, you’re terribly startled.

Yanqing, who’d been carefully showing you the fruits of his training inside the clinic, drops his sword with a clatter, gasping upon seeing the General appear at the door.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelps indignantly. Jing Yuan gives the boy an amused look.

“Oh? I haven’t even mentioned what I’m here for. How did you know I’d accuse you?” the General questions. Yanqing deflates, having exposed himself and his guilt without the man having to do so much as lift a finger. You reach out towards Yanqing, wanting to defend the boy from any potential ire or anger.

All things considered, he’d done it for your sake. You wouldn’t let him take the blame for such a kindhearted action.

Bailu beats you to it first. Grabbing the journal from her desk, she tosses it to the General. The man catches it with one hand before looking at her curiously.

“Take it. I already read through all of it. I have a good memory. I’ll tell them the stories myself, whether you agree with it or not,” Bailu insists, turning away in annoyance. Unexpectedly, instead of disagreement or disdain, Jing Yuan chuckles and shakes his head.

“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here to scold anyone or take this back. Actually, I commend Yanqing for taking a stand against me and remaining firm in his belief that you had the right to know,” Jing Yuan says with a small smile. Yanqing lets out a relieved sigh before picking up his sword, migrating to the edge of your bed to seat himself.

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why aren’t you upset?”

Jing Yuan suddenly looks sheepish, reaching back to rub his neck. “Actually, I went to the Divination Commission to inquire about this situation. Needless to say, the Master Diviner did not agree with how I handled everything.”

You hum softly, the thought bringing you some comfort. “Did she use the Matrix of Prescience to arrive at that answer?” you ask.

“Actually….” Jing Yuan trails off as he averts his gaze. Bailu pipes up with an amused huff.

“Fu Xuan scolded you, didn’t she?” she interrogates. The General sighs softly before confirming the healer’s suspicions with a small nod.

“Well, what she said, and I quote, ‘despite having the title Divine Foresight, you spend no time thinking about the consequences of your decisions. I don't even need a third eye to see why that’s wrong. Your apprentice has more of a head than you do,’ or something along those lines,” Jing Yuan recounts with a guilty expression.

“I’m glad someone got it through that thick skull of yours, General. The memories are a precious thing to the Vidyadhara race. I can hardly believe you hid so much myself,” Bailu chastises, crossing her arms.

“I know, I know. I realize my mistake,” he starts, walking over to you and sitting beside Yanqing on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad my nosy apprentice told you everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping everything a secret, but I only caused you more stress in the end.”

You offer a gentle smile. “I went along with it without a fuss because I trusted you. It hurt, but I figured you wouldn’t hide things without reason.”

“And even knowing that I’ve been shielding you from something painful, you still want the truth?” the man asks, the worry clear in his expression. You meet his gaze and nod.

“Yes. Learning the truth is allowing me to feel more and more complete. Even if it’s upsetting, I need to know,” you insist. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“Even without your memories, you’re just as headstrong as you were back then,” he muses. “In that case, I’ll take responsibility, and I’ll be the one to deliver the truth to you.”

“At a later date,” Bailu interjects before Jing Yuan can flip open his diary to the relevant pages. “Save any new stories for tomorrow. I don’t want to strain them further.”

“Strain..?” the General mumbles. You quickly pipe in to clarify.

“Ren… I remembered my first meeting with him. I remembered loving him. But… everything else is still foggy,” you explain.

“But that was enough to make you faint! Lady Bailu is right. We should wait,” Yanqing adds. Jing Yuan looks at you and ruffles your hair affectionately.

“In that case, tomorrow. After our duties, I’ll sit down with you and tell you more. Every single day that Bailu allows it, I’ll tell you something new,” he promises. You feel your heart warm, a weight lifted off your chest.

“I’ll hold you to it. I’m sure Yanqing will, as well. Every day…” you murmur, a small grin making its way onto your face at the thought of finally securing a way to retrieve all of what you’d lost.

Soon, you’ll have all of the pieces of your past life. Once you do, you’ll finally know everything that transpired that led you to where you are now.

As excited as you are, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

There’s bound to be many joyous tales from your past, but the story of heartache and loss looms over you. It reminds you that, as happy as things may be, you have to prepare yourself to accept the pain and suffering of your previous life.

You can only hope that it’s something you’ll be able to handle when the time comes.

Dusk turns to dawn, and the sun rises on a new day.

True to his word, Jing Yuan begins visiting you in the evenings at the clinic to tell you new anecdotes from your past. Filling your head with stories that feel familiar— nostalgic, he tells tales each night until your head aches, a sign that you’ve taken in enough for the day.

The General helps you recall your first meeting with him— introduced as mutual friends of Imbibitor Lunae. You slowly remember the way you would watch the two spar, happy to clean up any wounds that came as a result.

Beyond that, Jing Yuan even shares how he’d been the one to push Lunae to introduce Ren to you, having always thought that you’d be a good influence on the man. Lunae agreed, and the General had considered it a personal victory.

However, he speaks of the way you fought alongside him in battle. This fact has you curious, having always assumed you were nothing but a healer.

Jing Yuan clarifies that you were a healer, and you once took up a sword to fight against the Denizens of Abundance precisely because of that reason. Each battle he recounts has your hands ghosting over areas where you swear you feel a slight pin prick of pain.

The General mentions that each place you touch is a place where your skin had once scarred over with wounds from each fight. It makes you smile— it seems the body truly never forgets.

Days continue to pass, and with time, your mind becomes less and less fractured. With each new tale, you grow more and more sure of who you are now and who you once were. Skills you once forgot become second nature once more. Memories return to you sometimes with the assistance of Jing Yuan and Bailu. Others enter your mind naturally, a byproduct of the newfound exposure to your past life.

Bailu notes your increased skill and confidence in healing, recognizing the way you improve as you remember the techniques of your profession. Your heart fills with warmth. You start to feel like yourself again— no longer a wanderer with nothing but shards of the past to their name.

Yet, as elated as you are to make such progress, it’s bittersweet.

You know they’re still deliberately avoiding how it all ended— how your Ren became Blade, the nature of your relationship, anything to do with him. Given that they’ve yet to broach the topic, all of those memories remain locked behind a wall. Unlike other moments, you’re unable to recollect it on your own— likely too heavy a topic to be triggered without help.

A frown appears on your face. You haven’t felt more sound of yourself in ages. Are you still unprepared? Is everyone coddling you once more?

How tragic a topic is the reality of your disappearance to cause them to hold off for this long?

Either way, it fills you with uncertainty and unease. You resolve to ask about it that evening, but it seems you don’t have to, for fate aligns itself at the perfect time.

As the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Bailu all approach you, seating you on the bed as they surround you. Their expressions are all terse— hesitant.

You’re about to ask about what’s occurred— unsettled by the tension, but Jing Yuan is the first to speak up, interrupting any thoughts you have.

“You’ve made significant progress with your memory recovery. Bailu has deemed you mentally sound enough to learn of the truth. I’ll tell you everything. Who he was in regards to you, what happened to him… and how it all ended,” the General explains. Your heart flutters in nervousness and anticipation alike.

“Everything…?” you echo. Bailu nods.

“You’ve retained everything else well. I can’t promise that this won’t cause some sort of physical reaction. Much like the first time, it’s likely you’ll experience some pain, but… if we’re right, this should be the last time,” the healer promises with a determined gaze. You smile, feeling comfort in the resolve of those around you.

“Alright. I trust you,” you say. Bailu nods to Jing Yuan, who seats himself beside you as he begins to recount his experience from his memories.

He starts. “There’s one thing I’m certain about. The way you could never tell how Ren felt towards you seems to have stuck. You were the same back then, but I knew— everyone knew that Ren loved you more than anything in this world.”

“For a while, you didn’t realize just how hard Ren had fallen for you. It was incredibly obvious to the rest of us, though. Perhaps… it was because you were always looking away. When he regarded you with nothing but pure adoration, you were inevitably turned in the other direction.”

Ren lets out an affectionate sigh as he looks at you, head propped on his hand as he watches you stare down at your work table in pure concentration. The soft grind of pestle against mortar resounds through the building. Jing Yuan chuckles softly, looking at Ren with a smirk.

“Do you plan on saying anything to them? Or are you determined to long in secrecy for the rest of your life?” he questions, teases slipping off his tongue. Ren narrows his eyes at the man.

“Watch yourself, General,” he retorts. Jing Yuan lets the empty threat slide off him with ease, refusing to back down.

“All you do is sigh and stare in every moment you spend in their presence. Why are you so hesitant?” he asks. Ren glances away towards the herbs and medicines lining the walls— all fruits of your labor.

“They’re dedicated to their craft. They wouldn’t have the time for such frivolity,” he laments. Jing Yuan hums and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. They have plenty of time to spare. I often hear them complaining that they have too much time to Lunae,” Jing Yuan counters. Ren tenses, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I doubt they feel the same affection for me as I do for them,” he mumbles. The General has to hold back from barking out a laugh.

“Please! That’s absolutely absurd. All I hear from you are excuses,” he insists. Before Ren has a chance to retaliate, another voice speaks up.

“The General is right about this, as boastful as he’s acting currently,” Imbibitor Lunae adds in, seating himself at the table with the two. “Both of you have a limited amount of time, Ren. It’d be unwise to waste it wondering if they feel the same.”

“Exactly. Besides, if you hold back on making a move, maybe I will,” Jing Yuan jests with a smirk. Ren shoots up in his seat.

“You will not!” he seethes before rolling his eyes, practically stomping off to retreat to your side. Jing Yuan watches in amusement.

“Do you think he’ll say anything or just sulk as per usual?” he asks. The dragon beside him hums.

“Have more faith in him. You pushed him right where he needed to be pushed. Just observe for now,” Lunae says, and Jing Yuan does so.

“I guess Ren really was at his wits end at that point, and Lunae was able to pick up on it. We watched, and you leapt into his arms after he professed his love. All of us knew it was a matter of time before you ended up together, but seeing it… it was a weight lifted for all of us.

“You two were finally happy.

“For a while after that, things were calm and comforting. Ren came to terms with his short life since you’d be there to spend it with him. I’d never seen anything make him happier than the day you became his, and he, yours.

“Truthfully, I think, that day, he found something worth living for in his relationship with you. Of course, he had the rest of us, but we were all long-life species. In you, he came to understand why life was so precious— why he had to treasure his existence, no matter the length of it.

“Alas, he was still… reckless, but just in the normal, stubborn, and headfast way that he always was. You were always there to scold him for it, but we all could tell it was different. Ren was fighting for his beliefs— no longer careless about his life. He was, in lack of better terms, himself.

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, such tranquility couldn’t last forever.

“Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.

“It was supposed to be another battle, but the two of them had been taking far longer than usual. Both of us were worried— aware that something was amiss, but afraid to speak it aloud lest we manifest it into reality…”

Jing Yuan watches you pace nervously outside of the hall. From where he leans against the wall, he can see the frenzied fear in your eyes as you look out in the distance every few minutes, hoping to see Lunae and Ren in the horizon.

The General is equally as concerned, but he knows that he must remain grounded to keep you sane.

“Imbibitor Lunae and Ren are both capable warriors. I’m sure that they’re fine. They’re probably just falling behind,” Jing Yuan reasons. You shake your head in disagreement.

“It’s been weeks. That’s not normal. The last time it took this long, someone—” you cut yourself off, flinching. The man’s expression becomes grim. He knows you’re right— that your worry is not unwarranted.

Neither of you wanted to be “too late” again.

Walking up beside you, Jing Yuan nudges you gently.

“Let’s head out. We’ll find them ourselves,” the General assures. You offer a wry smile and nod, but before either of you can make a move, another voice interjects.

“No need. We’ve returned,” Lunae says as he approaches with Ren by his side. Jing Yuan can see your excitement, but then watches as you freeze, expression falling as you look at Ren. The General notices what you do, too.

It isn’t uncommon to return from prolonged battles covered in blood, tattered with memories of the ongoing war. However, Ren seems far too pristine to have just returned from a battlefield. He’s glowing in a way that seems… unnatural.

Your eyes shift to Imbibitor Lunae, and suddenly your eyes are cold— distant.

“I think you caught something in his mannerisms that I couldn’t. You saw something that I couldn’t see, quickly catching on that something was inherently wrong— that they were hiding something.”

“What happened?” you ask, a seriousness in your tone that felt incredibly off-putting, given that you were referring to your lover and close friend. Instead of a response, Ren reaches towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if his life depended on it.

You pause, carefully wrapping your arms around Ren, running fingers through his hair as you repeat your earlier question.

“What happened?” you inquire, almost pleading now. Ren stills in your arms, silently burying his face in your neck. You frown, looking to Lunae once more for answers. Jing Yuan doesn’t move from his spot, either, trying to make sense of what it is you’re picking up on.

Eventually, beneath your persistent gaze, Lunae cracks.

“Ren nearly died on the battlefield,” he admits. You tighten your grip on your lover, eyes wide with a shock that Jing Yuan mirrors.

“He looks perfectly fine… he’s walking on his own two feet, and there isn’t a trace of blood on him…” you note in disbelief. Imbibitor Lunae looks away, seeming guilty in the way his eyes fall.

“I know. That’s because I…” Imbibitor Lunae goes quiet, unable to bring himself to finish his thought. Jing Yuan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at the other.

“You what?” the General interrogates. However, the dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, instead looking to you with something that makes your eyes fill with fury. Before he can raise questions, you’re quick to clarify.

“You made him immortal? Why would you do such a grievous thing?!” you snap, forcefully separating yourself from your lover. Ren reaches for you desperately, but you take a step back. Jing Yuan easily recognizes the look of betrayal on your face.

“I can explain—” Ren starts, but you cut him off harshly.

“What is there to explain here?! I’ve treated the Mara-Struck— victims of the Sanctus Medicus, and you want to explain? I’m a healer and even I’m aware that immortality isn’t a remedy of any sort! It’s a venom! A curse!” you yell, eyes brimming with tears. Jing Yuan remains mute, unable to understand why anyone would resort to such a taboo method for any reason, especially given all that they’d witnessed together.

“Please, calm yourself and allow us to talk this o—” Before Lunae can finish his thought, you interrupt.

“Calm myself? Imbibitor Lunae, have you forgotten that I’m dying? In a few decades, I’ll be gone! Ren no longer has the mercy of dying by my side! He’ll have to witness everything!” you cry out, voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks.

“He’ll endure so much suffering, and he’ll never be able to die…” you whisper, finally gathering enough strength to meet Ren’s gaze. “You promised.”

Ren is quick to scoop you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I also promised to return to you. We’re both here now. That must count for something. Without immortality, I wouldn’t have returned to greet you again— to hold you again. And immortality doesn’t change a thing. I still plan to remain by your side for eternity,” he promises softly. You look up at him, an unfathomable sadness in your eyes.

Briefly, Jing Yuan catches you glancing at Lunae. There’s a wordless exchange in the expression you share with the Vidyadhara. The General has no idea what it is that you both say, but it’s enough because soon you’re releasing a defeated sigh.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Ren,” you say softly. Ren smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. You reciprocate for a moment before pulling away, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of his presence.

Despite everything, Jing Yuan can tell that it isn’t something you’d ever move on from.

“You never brought up Ren’s immortality of your own accord ever again after that day. If it came up in conversation, you always excused yourself to be alone for a while.

“There was a time that I confronted you about it, though. I knew it was forbidden, but I needed to know what was going through your head. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget what you said to me that day.”

“Why wouldn’t I be upset, Jing Yuan?” you start, head in hands as you shut your eyes tight.

“There will come a time where Ren suffers unimaginable pain, and I won’t be there to help him. There will come a day where myself, Imbibitor Lunae, and even you aren’t there to support him through his suffering,” you explain. The General pauses, not having thought that far into the future.

You continue in his silence. “My death is just the start. I don’t think Ren understands how much of a tragedy that is. Soon, we will all leave him, and he’ll come to understand that death is far more merciful than being the last person left alive of all those you’ve grown to love.”

You frown and walk off, your words weighing heavily in Jing Yuan’s heart.

“I grew to understand exactly how right you were in your assumption as the years passed. When you faded away and crumbled— I witnessed firsthand how cruel his affliction was.

“Ren knew he couldn’t live without seeing you once more, I don’t think he ever thought about the inevitable day where he’d have to learn to live without you entirely.

“The day you disappeared… I could tell everything weighed heavily on your mind. In the face of your inevitable demise, you still worried for Ren.”

Jing Yuan lets out a soft sigh, watching Lunae and Ren leave for their duties. Glancing back to you on the bed, he tilts his head.

“You looked like you had more to say back then. Something else on your mind?” he asks as he seats himself on the edge of your bed. You look at him, a serious look in your eyes.

“I promise that, one day, I will find my way back to you all. One day, I’ll return, so Ren won’t have to suffer on his own,” you swear. Jing Yuan offers a sympathetic smile.

“Unless you’re a Vidyadhara, reincarnation is just a legend,” he mentions. You don’t respond, instead humming in acknowledgement to the General’s statement.

“Of course, I didn’t know you were one back then, but what I did know is that you were incredibly firm in your desire. Either way, I’d brushed it off.

“I left the room to make your medicine, but you had disappeared when I returned. Only then did I realize… that promise was your last wish— your final resolve.”

Jing Yuan continues his explanation, telling you the results of your disappearance.

Ren was never the same. He spent countless hours looking for you— searching for a body, but you’d vanished completely, much like the Mara-Struck who faded into nothingness. From that day forth, Ren’s mind fractured and he grew resentful of his curse.

As you predicted, the rest of your group slowly began to die out, your lover forced to suffer through each and every one knowing he’d never be granted the same reprieve.

Then came time for Imbibitor Lunae to pass and reincarnate.

“After Lunae died, Ren disappeared entirely, his mind shattered beyond repair— a shell of who he once was. Losing his bosom friend was the final straw.

“I tried to search for him, but he’d vanished from the Xianzhou Alliance entirely. I figured he didn’t want to be found, so I was forced to move on lest I suffered the same fate:

“Lost in our past without direction or will to live.”

Jing Yuan sighs as he finishes the story, shaking his head. “I thought it all a distant memory, then I saw you again on the Luofu as Bailu’s assistant. You looked the same way you did back then.”

“At first, I thought you just looked similar, but then I saw the horns and tail and I knew— you’d found your way back as promised, and you were a Vidyadhara. I’m sure I acted strange when we first met, but I was trying to confirm that it was really you,” he admits.

The memory of that day rushes to the forefront of your mind. The Arbitor-General had followed you and Bailu back to the clinic. His eyes were trained on your tail, watching the way it swayed as you worked before his gaze settled on your horns.

Jing Yuan had carefully observed you as you made medicine at Bailu’s work table, humming a tune that you’d heard from earlier in the day. It startled you how attentive he was being, but now it made sense.

“I confirmed it through your mannerisms and habits. I saw the way you carefully healed others. Then, you expressed familiarity towards me and that sealed it. Unfortunately, I knew you were without your memories.

“I had been keeping tabs on Blade since he appeared on the IPC’s most wanted list, and I vowed to protect you from him. If he saw you and you didn’t remember him, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well,” Jing Yuan says, frowning.

“I thought protecting you meant guarding you from the truth so you never had to learn of the tragedy that became of your past lover, but I know now that you have to make this choice yourself. By deliberately concealing this, I’ve already hurt you enough,” he finishes softly, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You remain silent and still, staring blankly ahead. From the corner of your eye, Bailu frowns.

“Are you alright?” she asks, preparing for any sort of pain that might occur as a result of everything.

Instead, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, dripping down onto your hands as you grip your robes tightly in your lap. Smiling sadly, you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your vision of the glistening drops.

Jing Yuan is the first to react, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears gently as you sniffle softly.

“What’s the matter?” the General questions, concern etched into his features. You shake your head, words caught in your throat.

Everything in your mind is clicking into place, pieces falling and fitting together.

Ah, of course. I promised this so long ago, your mind echoes. I said that I’d return— that I’d remember— so I could make it back to you and protect you from the curse you fell into.

Your shoulders shake as you begin to sob. The General pulls you into a tight embrace, Yanqing leaning against your side in an attempt to provide comfort as well.

You usually never remember any last reincarnations as a Vidyadhara. Memory is a spectrum for your kind, and you always ebbed on the side of starting with an entirely clean slate. It’s why you were so certain you’d die when you left to be born again.

You wouldn’t take any memories of your past with you, and you wouldn’t recall them.

Except, this time you did.

Dying and rebirthing with such a strong resolve meant that, since you awoke in this new life, you’ve always felt that something was missing.

Now, you know what it is.

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

You bury your face in Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you cry, mourning the past you lost, and the lover you abandoned in this world.

If Blade’s mind fractured so long ago, do you even hold a place in his memories anymore?

Is there anything you could do in your current state to help him?

Or was all of this remembrance for naught?

For this, you had no answer.

Hidden away somewhere in the Luofu, a woman observes a man from afar.

Kafka recognizes the distant expression Blade wears as he stares out at the scenery and passing Starskriffs. It’s vulnerable— longing— one that he only wears when he thinks no one is watching.

However, her attention is diverted elsewhere when her phone vibrates with an incoming text. Glancing down at the device, she smirks as she reads the message.

Kafka. Plans have changed. Blade’s initial wish will be granted.

The woman raises a brow in amusement, typing and replying to his message with a teasing response.

Even we aren’t capable of necromancy, Elio.

Instead of commenting on her witty remarks, he merely sends back a simple text which serves as enough of an explanation for Kafka.

The Vidyadhara has remembered themself, thus returning to who they once were.

Await new instructions.

The woman looks back up at Blade, smirking as she pockets her phone.

What new side of him will she be able to witness? What sort of expression will he have when Elio surprises him with this?

Kafka can’t wait to see how this story plays out.

tag rqs : @ceylestia - @thetwinkims - @astralsity - @kaminari-no-ritsusha - @jotaro-souped

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

[byexbyez]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Reader Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Original Female Character(s), Ada Wong, Ingrid Hunnigan, Luis Serra (mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, No use of y/n, Marriage of Convenience, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Touch-starved Leon, Trauma, Anxiety, Minor Character Death, Family Issues, Grief/Mourning, Yearning, Mentions of canon typical violence, vague timeline, Alcohol and Cigarette Consumption, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, domestic fluff if you squint, marriage of convenience but there isn't a physical convenience, Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023) Leon S. Kennedy, Post-Resident Evil 4 Remake, Swearing, POV Alternating, strangers to spouses

Summary:

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy one-shot #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #i've edited this so many times since i've published it i'm sorry #my first fanfic in english please be nice #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy #leon s. kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy angst #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 remake leon kennedy #ao3 crosspost #ao3 fanfic #first published via ao3 #leon kennedy ao3 #comments make me happy #first post on tumblr #fanfiction

[i-fondued]

Kinktober 2022 | Ghost - Parchment and Promises

When his favorite Sister of Sin get reassigned to library duty, Papa Emeritus III obviously has to take advantage of the secluded space.

Pairing: Papa Emeritus III/Terzo x Reader/Sister of Sin

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: oral sex, library smut, public sexual acts, google translate italian, dom/fem-dom if you squint?

A/N: I told y’all I would end up writing Terzo too, gotta have an excuse to use more smutty, sexy, shitty google translate Italian. This might end up with a surprise part two because our lovers don’t actually fuck but hey, who knows. Also if anyone actually cares, no this isn’t the same sister of sin that is in my other stories with copia… though now I cant not write that one ahahahaha

enjoy!!

AO3 link HERE

The abbey bells tolled softly in the distance, echoing through the lofty space.

The sun was just beginning to set, golden hour rays streaming lazily through the ornate stained glass windows; which in turn casted beautiful shapes of all colors. 

I was in the back corners of the library, putting away the massive books and tiny scrolls that the other senior sisters had pulled out during their hours of translations. Normally I was assigned to work in the kitchens, cooking for the many siblings of sin that called the abbey home. However, one of the senior sisters had taken ill and I had been told to switch for the day, pushing around a dusty cart full of books rather than being elbow deep in bread flour. 

I hummed as I worked, slipping between the massive bookshelves and sliding everything back to its proper home. I paused when I felt a set of eyes on me, head whipping around to look for the source of the feeling and finding nobody. Feeling a presence but not seeing one wasn’t cause for alarm here, if anything it was a painfully shy ghoul lurking just out of view. I went back to my work again, focusing on the cart and the books on it, and ignoring the feeling of someone watching as best as possible. Someone’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against them, their other hand coming up to cover my mouth as I started to scream. 

I began to flail wildly, hands coming up to pull at the wrist of my attacker, before I heard the deep rumble of a chuckle in my ear. 

“Bella mia, Sorella, I startle you?” The hand covering my mouth was pulled away and I looked back at my attacker, a scowl on my face. 

“Satan below, Terzo. Yes, of course you scared me!” I snapped, trying to turn to look at him but his hands gripped my hips and I felt him rest his chin on my shoulder, kissing my cheek quickly. 

“Mi displace, I’m sorry,” He purred, his fingers brushing against my hips softly in slow strokes. I leaned against him, a blush forming on my cheeks. “I saw you pass by me and I assume you notice me.”

“Hm.” I mumbled, a small shiver running down my spine as he pushed my habit to the side and pressed soft kisses to the sensitive skin of my neck. 

“It is nice to see you out of the kitchen, si? It is like a dungeon down there.” His deep voice rumbled against his lips as he skillfully ran his tongue against the shell of my ear. “You are too delicate to be working hard in there Bella…”

His right hand curved around my body, brushing his fingertips softly against my waist before coming to gently paw at my breasts. His other hand gripped my hip obsessively as he gently rocked against me, I could feel his cock getting hard with each gentle brush against my ass. My body felt like it was heating up, like I was working in front of the ovens making dinner, a small weak smile on my lips.

“I-I like my job, Papa…” I chuckled softly before biting on my bottom lip as his fingers rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently at the little bundle of nerves. 

“Si, si. But I have a better job for you, mia cara…”

“Oh?”

“Si.” He chucked, tugging me against him and turning so I was facing the bookshelves. “La mia proprieta…”

My hands came up to steady myself against the shelves as Terzo yanked my hips back against him; he ground against my ass and I had to hold back a moan, a small whimper slipping from my lips. His hands wandered from my hips, caressing at my sides before he curled around me. He pressed more kisses to my neck, his tongue swirling around my skin in a way that he seemed to only know how. I fought to stifle a moan, my fist pressing against my lips, and I could feel Papa chucking as he turned me in his arms.

“What you say, cara mia? Hm?” Terzo smiled at me, a rare boyish one and I felt my cheeks turn bright red as his mismatched eyes crinkled as he chuckled at my face. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his fingers caressing my jawline as I looked up at him with hooded eyes. 

I didn’t answer him, I pushed forward and kissed him firmly. His arms curled around my waist, pushing me back against the bookshelf with a mumbled Italian I didn’t quite catch. My own arms wrapped firmly around his neck, fingers running into his hair and scratching softly at the base of his neck. I could feel the shudder run through his body and smirked into the kiss. He may have known exactly how to turn me on, but two could play at that game and I was very good at this one. 

I pushed against his chest softly and Terzo pulled away with a confused look on his face, I smirked at him as I pushed him back against the bookshelf on the other side of the alcove we were in. He let out a little oof when his back hit the shelves and I locked eyes with him, his pupils blown wide with lust. I slowly fell to my knees while never breaking our eye contact. Terzo’s breath was coming hard and fast as my hand slid up his muscular thighs; fingers gently caressing as one hand started to undo his belt while the other teasingly traced his cock as it strained against the confines of his trousers.

“S-sorella…m-mio dio…” Terzo groaned quietly, his hand coming to settle on my head. He started to pull off the habit but I swatted his hand away. 

“Leave it on.”

Another string of incoherent italian as my hand slipped into his trousers, freeing his cock from the straining fabric. Terzo’s hand gripped the shelf by his hips, white knuckled, as he watched with his mismatched gaze as my hand ran up and down his shaft teasingly. I leaned forward and placed soft kisses on his length, barely ghosting my lips over the skin. He bucked his hips forward weakly, knowing I would walk away if he got too carried away too quickly. He was whimpering when I finally, mercifully, let my tongue slip out and ran it against the head of his cock tasting the precum that had beaded there. 

“Sa-santi sotto, cara mia…” Terzo moaned, his hips bucking against my lips as I pumped my fist up and down him again. “Take pity, no?”

I locked eyes with him, a small smile as I took in the site in front of me. Papa Emeritus III. His hair messy, cheeks flushed so deep I could see it under his paints, his whole body was wound tight as he looked at me with a withering lusty gaze. I felt powerful, a warm feeling sliding down my spine and settling in my belly. 

“I’m not sure you’ve earned it, Papa…” I purred, feeling bold as I began to take him into my mouth. My tongue swirled around the head as I took him as deep as I could, hollowing out my cheeks as I pulled back. 

Terzo’s right hand shot out towards my head before he thought better of it and gripped the bookshelf again. His head rolled back, thumping softly against the old books on the shelves, as little words of encouragement and broken Italian slipped from his lips. I couldn’t help but smirk as I continued to bob my head up and down his cock, tongue massaging at the underside of his length. Surprising both Terzo and myself I managed to swallow him down to the base, my nose brushing at the soft curls as I held him deeply before pulling back again. I teased him again with my tongue and felt his hips begin to match my pace and I knew he was getting close.

“Fanculo questo.” Terzo cursed, hands grabbing my head and a thrill shot down my spine knowing he was about to lose control. 

Holding my head steady Terzo began fucking my mouth for all he was worth; I was gagging, spittle slipping down my lips and dripping obscenely into my lap but my hands stayed curled around his thighs. I heard him grunting above me, italian words mixed in and I felt the heat pooling in my belly as I squirmed under him. Unable to help myself I let my hand reach up and cup his balls, massaging them softly.

“Ingoialo, Sorella…” He grunted, before quickly thrusting a few more times before I felt his cock twitch in my mouth. I felt the hot spurt out and down my throat, greedily swallowing everything. After a few shallow thrusts he pulled away, cock slipping from my mouth as he brushed his fingers against my scalp. 

“Perfezione, Bella.” Terzo stood there, eyes barely open as he caught his breath while leaning heavily on the bookshelf. My face was flushed, breath coming in and out steadily, as I squirmed on the floor beneath him. “Brava ragazza, si, good girl…”

Terzo smiled warmly at me, eyes full of adoration as he cupped my cheek again. His thumb brushed the remnants of spittle and his seed from the corner of my lips. He tucked himself back in his trousers before helping me to stand up. My legs quaked, numb from kneeling on the floor so long, and ever the gentleman Terzo helped steady me against the bookshelves. His hands warm on my hip as he kissed my neck again, teeth nipping at my shoulder as he pulled at my robes. My hips bucked forward as his hand pulled at the hem of my robes, fingers brushing softly against my bare thigh as he curled his fingers against the tops of my stockings. 

“I return the favor, no?” He purred, his lips brushing against mine before pulling away. A whimper slipped from my lips, eyes locking on his as I nodded quickly at him. 

“Please, Papa.”

Terzo smiled at me, my heart fluttering in its cage as a warm feeling spread over my entire body. “Qualsiasi cosa per la mia ragazza. Anything for you, Bella.”

I watched, my breath coming in staccato bursts, as Terzo sunk to his knees. Mirroring myself only moments ago, his fingers pushed my skirts up, exposing my underwear. Ever the tease, I felt his fingers brush against where I had soaked through the fabric. He practically purred at me as he ran his fingers against me, feeling the practically dripping fabric. “All for me, mia?”

“Yes, Papa…” I moaned quietly, fingers tangling in his hair as Terzo leaned forward to pull my underwear down with his teeth. I rolled my hips against his face and my clit brushed against his nose. 

“Sorella, you are dripping…” He sighed, pulling one leg over his shoulder. “All for your Papa?”

“Always, Papa.”

I was off balance slightly, leaning my weight backwards against the shelves while balancing on one leg as best as I could. I moved the cart closer to us, giving myself more space to lean if needed. I opened my legs as Terzo settled into position, one arm curled around the thigh on his shoulder and pinning me in place. He buried his face between my legs, fingers spreading me open as he ran his tongue up my opening and barely brushing against my clit. 

I bit my lip hard, holding back a moan I knew anyone in the library would hear from anywhere, and bucked my hips against his lips. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest, blood ringing in my ears, and my breath coming in short bursts as Terzo devoured me. His fingers pressed inside of me, my walls instantly clamping down on him as he provided the friction I so sorely needed. 

“Terzo…” I moaned his name, head thrown back against the books as I closed my eyes to the feeling of his tongue flicking against my clit. 

“Sorella…sei mio.” He groaned into my cunt, faintly I could feel him rolling his hips against his free hand and I knew he was hard again. “Only mine…”

“Only yours,” I parroted him, my knees buckling slightly. I felt Terzo pivot us and slide me to sit on the cart, before he pulled my other thigh up onto his shoulder. I moaned, legs squeezing his head slightly as I felt a shudder roll down my spine. “Only ever yours, Papa…”

His rumbly moan at my response sent shockwaves right to the pool of heat in my belly and I ground against his face, fingers tugging on his hair sharply. My nails dug into his scalp as my orgasam clawed its way to the edge of the clif I was desperate to fling myself over. Terzo’s tongue swirling my clit had my legs quaking on his shoulders, he knew I was close and I felt his fingers turn in their gentle thrusting and curl towards the spongy spot inside me that made my toes curl. 

“Oh. Oh fuck Terzo…” I groaned, thighs squeezing his head as he continued to slurp at my clit as my orgasam washed over me. It was so strong I thought I was going to black out, vision swirling slightly. But I couldn’t help but lock with Papa’s gaze, his miss matched eyes filled with mirth between my thighs as I moaned his name, begging him to never stop.

Aftershocks slowly spilled down my spine as I rode out my pleasure against Terzo’s face, before my fingers loosened the grip on his hair. He pulled back slightly, pressing his cheek into my limp hand like a kitten would to an open palm. He wiped his face with my underwear and my face flushed scarlet as he took a deep breath. 

“I keep these, si? As a reward for Papa’s hard work.” He chucked, tucking the fabric in his back pocket before standing slowly. 

“Whatever you’d like, Papa.” I mumbled, dazed and with a content look on my face. His hand came up to cup my face, I nuzzled into him before he leaned down to press soft kisses to my face and lips. Terzo stepped between my legs, I could feel his cock stirring in his trousers and I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from my lips. Terzo went to say something before he ducked down again, before I could say anything or even look at him I heard footsteps. 

“Sister, are you over here?”

One of the senior sisters who worked in the library stepped around the corner behind me, I whipped my head around while scooting so my robes would cover my legs. 

“Ah there you are! Are you almost done sister, dinner is starting soon and I wanted to let you know.” She smiled warmly at me, before slipping the book she had in her hands in its proper place. 

“Y-yes, thank you Sister. I’ll be right there, I only have a small book to put away.”

“Oh I can take it-“

“NO! No, it's okay!” I laughed, eyes wild as she started to step towards me. I could feel Terzo’s hands wandering up my legs again and I kicked at him, earring a soft grunt from the man in front of me. “I-I wanted to finish the task myself, nothing better than a good days work…”

“All the younger sisters should strive to be like you Sister,” She smiled again at me. “Our work is important to the dark lord, not just flirting with the Papas.”

“Yes, Sister. I agree.” My eyes drifted to the floor, Terzo had a big stupid grin on his face and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. 

“Well, don’t delay too much Sister. You wouldn’t want to miss out on Papa’s blessings for dinner.” She waved at me before beginning to walk away from me. 

“Something tells me I won’t miss Papa, Sister.” I was holding back my laughter as I listened to the sound of her footsteps fading. 

Terzo smirked at me, standing once again, before leaning down to kiss my lips gently while his hand slipped beneath my habit to tangle in my hair.

“Will I see you after dinner, Sorella?” He murmured against my lips, his hips grinding against mine as I shuttered again. 

“Always, Papa.”

“Promettere, bella mia?”

“I promise, Terzo.”

#my writing #ghost #the band ghost #Ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus lll #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa terzo #Terzo fanfiction #Fanfiction #ao3 crosspost #Terzo feels like one big puppy when he is pussy whipped for youuuu #Like my mans would RISK IT ALL if it meant the chance to eat you out one last time #We will be back to our shy rat boy tomorrow I think #Unless people really love these two too and then i guess I’ll have to write them actually fucking at some point

[askjohnwick]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⚜

John Wick x Marquis de Gramont, A.K.A. "churchduel", enemies to lovers.

TW: blood, gunshot wounds, crying, drug addiction, toxic dynamics

Summary: John Wick and The Marquis de Gramont both faked their deaths on that fateful day at the Basilica. But when Vincent seeks John's help, he isn't expecting genuine compassion.

❋ AO3

❋ Chapter I: Trouble

❋ Chapter II: Flight on a Dark Horse

❋ Chapter III: Blue Moon Motel

❋ Chapter IV: Disarming

❋ Chapter V: Painkillers

Worldbuilding and Inspiration:

❋ Playlist

❋ Original Location: Blue Moon Motel

❋ Original Location: Marjorie Becker

#(ooc post!) #john wick #churchduel #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #angst #dacryphilia #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers

[softly-potter]

Good Girl Era

Summary: Weiss and Ruby try something new in bed.

Pairing: Weiss x Ruby

Word Count: 1,327

Warning: p0rn with a plot

A/N: loosely inspired by Good Girl Era by UPSAHL

-

“Beacon,” Ruby groans out, desperate and panting, her skin flushed. “I-I’m sorry, but Beacon.”

“Oh! Okay, okay,” Weiss stammers, distraughtly moving to undo her bonds. In her quick movement to free her, Weiss’ knuckle smacks against Ruby’s forehead, and her heart leaps as Ruby violently flinches away, exhaling shakily. 

“Sorry,'' Weiss whispers, trying to calm herself and gently removes the blindfold from Ruby's face before moving to her wrists once more. Ruby sags when the binds loosen, collapsing into Weiss’ arms, shaking as Weiss holds her.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, cards her fingers through Ruby’s short haircut. “So, so sorry, was it too much?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby wheezes and Weiss doesn't miss the way the other girl's breath shakes. “We experiment for that exact reason. I guess… blindfolds are mine?”

Weiss smiles sympathetically. “Okay, noted, no blindfolds.” she says softly, moving her face into Ruby's hair, shifting so that they are side by side with Ruby’s face pressed to Weiss’ chest.

After a few moments, Ruby’s heartbeat begins to slow, her skin cooling. Weiss continues threading her hands through Ruby's hair, her nails lightly scratching her scalp and Ruby purrs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to Weiss’ chest before shuffling downwards and putting her face squarely between Weiss’ breast.

“Petal, what're you doing?” Weiss giggles.

Ruby looks up, silver eyes blown wide with lust. “I dont like blind folds, doesn’t mean I dont like fucking you.” she says simply, and Weiss feels her blood heat at the words. Ruby smirks, bites at the soft skin.

Weiss laughs, the sound morphing into a moan as Ruby licks her nipple tentatively, before wrapping her lips around it completely and sucking.

“Oh.” Weiss says weakly, tugging at Ruby’s hair, and begins to whine when Ruby's hand begins to work at her neglected breast. Leaning her head back, Weiss lets her fingers trail down Ruby’s torso, dancing over her pubic bone before it settles between the redheads thighs, and she hums when she finds the other girl is still expectant. 

She begins to make lazy circles with her thumbs, and Ruby hums against her chest, bites down on the sensitive nub and it makes Weiss’s head fall back, her eyes falling on the discarded blindfold.

“Ruby? What about… if I wore the blindfold?”

Ruby stills, releasing Weiss’s nipple with a wet pop and sits up on her elbows. “I think that's the best idea you’ve had all day.”

Reaching for the satin material, Ruby holds it out, quietly offering to put it on. Weiss smiles, flicks her wrist a final time in a movement that makes Ruby gasp as she lays the blindfold over Weiss’s eyes.

She pulls it tight, descending Weiss into darkness and causing her focus to be on the feel of Ruby’s hands tracing her sides, her breasts, settling on her neck.

“You okay?” Ruby asks, stroking her neck.

Weiss nods, licks her lips. “Mhm.”

She can tell why Ruby wouldn't enjoy the lack of sight and why Weiss might positively love it. There's an element of surprise, an idea of loss of control. Ruby’s a leader, a planner, doesn’t enjoy things going awry when they can be avoided. On the contrary, Weiss has lived the majority of her life on a calendar, moving as it’s written. With a blindfold, she can’t tell what’s to come next, and the thought thrills her. In addition to the unknown, she also finds that her other senses are heightened. 

The sound of Ruby’s breathing, the feel of the damp sheets against her back, her blood drumming quickly in her ears. The smell of roses and sex leaking through the various scents of their home. The touch of Ruby’s hand on her thigh, of her shoulder pressing into Weiss’s calf as Ruby spread her legs, of her fingers tracing Weiss’ folds achingly slow. Her thumb presses down on her clit a few times before her fingers descend within her.

Weiss moans, chokes out Ruby's name as she works her with her undying attentiveness, knowing what action will elicit what response. She moves her fingers with purpose, stroking every ridge as Weiss’s pants grow heavier, before switching to a different rhythm and leaving Weiss on the cliff between ecstasy and exasperation.

“Ruby,” Weiss moans, arching her back as she feels another finger added into her, scrambling to grip her sheets. “Fuck, Ruby?”

“What's the matter?” Ruby replies, a grin evident in her voice. “Oh, is that what you need? For me to fuck you?”

Weiss nods quickly, hoping she doesn't look as desperate as she feels, and she clamps her mouth shut to stop herself from whining as Ruby pulls her fingers from her, leaving an intolerable emptiness.

The sound of a door opening echos, and Weiss holds her breath, straining to hear. A box falls to the floor, the sound of clanking and velcro reverberates and Weiss jumps when she feels Ruby's hand on her ankle.

“I’ve got you,” Ruby hums, her hands pressing against the inside of Weiss’ thighs, spreading her. Then she feels the head of Ruby’s strap against her core, a shiver shooting up her spine and she sighs as Ruby sinks into her.

Weiss lets out a breath, and then another when she feels Ruby bottom out with her. “Oh gods.”

She hears Ruby laugh before the other girl settles back, pulling Weiss’ legs together and holds them both over her shoulder, squeezing her around her strap as she begins to fuck her to absolution. Weiss gasps, pathetic whines leaving her lips with every thrust.

“What, no smart ass remark like usual?” Ruby huffs, her arm wrapped around Weiss’s legs tightly, keeping her still. 

Weiss shakes her head, whimpering. “In my good girl era I guess.”

Ruby laughs, picking up her pace. “Buuuullshit.”

Weiss gasps, grabs the sheets by her head. While she can’t see the gorgeous view of Ruby sinking into her, she deeply enjoys the obscene smack of flesh on flesh that fills her ears, driving her wild. A hand slithers between her legs, playing with her clit and leaving her knuckles white as her body begins to shudder with a familiar feeling.

“Is that what I have to do to make you a good girl?” Ruby asks sweetly, as if the question isn't absolutely salacious. “Blind you and put my strap to use?”

Weiss moans again, sucks a sharp breath in. “Ruby ‘m close.”

Ruby chuckles, a sweet and filthy sound, before leaning forward, pressing Weiss’ legs into her torso as her fingers danced along Weiss’s clit and pinches.

Weiss groans, the stimulation nearly too much, pleasure cresting and shattering, coming undone beneath her girlfriend.

“Gods.” Weiss cries, her legs opening and escaping Rubys hold, wrapping around the other girls waist and holding onto her as she fucked her through her orgasm, each thrust making a sound that would make prim and proper Weiss cringe.

Ruby kisses her messily, groaning thickly and Weiss puts her hands in her hair, pulling the dark strands as Ruby continues her thrusts, her pace feverish. A final stroke sends Ruby over the edge, and she clings to Weiss like a lifeline, burying her face into the girl's neck and moaning, her hot breath sending goosebumps across Weiss’s skin.

For a moment they lay there, panting and clinging to one another. Weiss sighs, reveling in the afterglow and the feeling of Ruby’s red strap still inside of her, still splitting her in only a way Ruby could.

Then she realizes she still can’t see.

“Ruby?” she says, breathes out through her nose.

“Oops.” Ruby murmurs, undoing the satin fabric and pulls it away, revealing her stunning expression, flushed and ruffled, silver eyes sparkling in anticipation. “So? Whatta think?”

“Good, good.” Weiss pants, rubs the back of her hand over her forehead. “I… good.”

Ruby sighs, rests her head on the pillow beside Weiss’. “You’re still bad at being good, but it seems I’ve found a solution.”

Weiss just giggles.

#ao3 crosspost #ruby rose rwby #whiterose #ruby and weiss #rwby #whiterose fanfiction #blurb #rwby fanfiction #white rose smut #weiss schnee

[macthedrag0n]

streamer au let's GOOOO

shoutout to @looneyzune for inspiring this fic and to @majimasleftasscheek for having an amazing server where this amazing au developed!

Raids and Races

Rating: General Audience

Relationship: Kiryu Kazuma & Original Female Character

Tags: One Shot, Streamer!Kiryu, Fluff

Word Count: 1,745

-> [AO3 LINK] <-

It was rare for InariHimari to be live on a Saturday. When the channel was first created, the creator only streamed on Sundays since that was the only day off she had between her weekday job as a hotel concierge and her Saturday gig as a cabaret club hostess. For five years, she worked herself to the bone and only found solace and relaxation in the low-key ‘studying’ streams she did at first. Even now, barely a month since she officially retired from both jobs and became a full-time streamer, she still didn’t go live on what can arguably be considered the best day of the week to livestream. Weeknights full of games and Sunday study sessions, but nothing on Saturdays.

And yet here was Himari sitting at her gaming setup with her LED fox-eared headphones and streaming for the approximately two hundred people that made up her audience. It was microscopic compared to the Twitch powerhouses advertised on the website’s front page, but Himari didn’t care. This was her crowd, her people, perhaps even her friends. Individuals who took precious time out of their lives to spend up to multiple hours with her just because they found her entertaining. She would forever be grateful to all of them and can only strive to get better at this so that they can be proud of her.

“Alright!” Himari said with a quick clap of her hands. “I want to try a new game to spice things up here. Do you guys have any suggestions?”

Almost instantly, the chat flooded with game suggestions. Himari had to lean in to read each title as it crawled up the screen. A majority of them seemed to be games that have just been released, which meant they would cost a pretty penny.

“Let me rephrase that.” Himari chuckled. “Do you guys have any cheap game suggestions? Not trying to go broke over a game I may or may not like.”

Her clarification made the suggestions slow down (most-likely due to viewers searching for potential titles to fit the criteria) until the chat was back to its low-speed scroll. It wasn’t long until one message from one of the channel moderators caught Himari’s eye:

cosmomemory: You should play Pocket Circuit LIVE! cosmomemory: It’s free and all you need is an online account to play

“’Pocket Circuit LIVE’?” A low whistle followed as she leaned back in her chair. “I remember when those little cars were popular back in the eighties. Damn. Now I feel old.”

The chat erupted in shocked and angry-looking emojis, along with a plethora of messages:

fanguu: EXCUSE ME???? brahkest: ma’am you are FORTY looneyzune: HIMARI FORTY ISNT OLD tabbitha44: i know this woman did not just say she was old baybee_bat: boo kokokub: oh no better get granny hima to a nursing home

Himari couldn’t help but laugh at the response. “Alright, alright. I take it back. It just makes me feel slightly older than I really am.”

brahkest: yeah thats what we thought looneyzune: THIN ICE HIMA! tabbitha44: >:(

Another chuckle escaped the streamer before she finally looked up Pocket Circuit LIVE. It took about twenty minutes in total for her to make a new account and download the game to her computer before finally booting it up.

“Oh wow!” Himari gawked at the vibrant colors of the menu screen. “This is really starting to remind me of the original toys…”

It wasn’t much longer until she was officially starting the game. The tutorial was easy enough to understand, but once she really started getting into the races with other online users, the true complexity made itself known. The embarrassment of losing her first four races on the easiest speed setting had very much sank in by the time Himari looked over at chat.

1000014: oh my aquaortus: oh no hima baybee_bat: you can do this himari! keep going! brahkest: yeeeeeesh looneyzune: :o deerstalker28: regret suggesting this game yet @ cosmomemory ? cosmomemory: @ fanguu haven’t decided yet lol

Himari didn’t have to look at her face-cam to know her face was a sheepish red. You’d think someone who’s been somewhat playing games professionally for five years now would at least figure out how to play a game as simple as Pocket Circuit LIVE, right? This was a game mostly played by kids! How could she of all people not get it?

After a couple more seconds of reading the mix of supportive and teasing messages in the chat, Himari took a deep breath and sat up straight.

“Alright,” She said, giving her face-cam her best confident smile. “I’ll try one more race. If I lose again, we’ll just cut our losses and play something else. Deal?”

Just then, a chime played through her headset’s speakers just as a pop-up message appeared on the screen layover at the same time as an identical message appeared in the chat:

JudgementKazzy has raided you with a party of 243 viewers!

Himari’s somewhat-false confidence melted away as a rush of shock flooded her and her eyes widened at the notification. She sat there frozen for what felt like a while before slowly blinking her eyes.

“That’s not…” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed. “That’s not real, is it?”

Just to be sure, she glanced at the chat.

brahkest: WHAT looneyzune: HYLDJGOFD looneyzune: HI UNCLE KAZ!!!! fanguu: WHAT IS UNCLE KAZ DOING HERE?!?!? cosmomemory: I LOOK AWAY FOR TWO SECONDS AND cosmomemory: UNCLE KAZ SHOWS UP????? aquaortus: lmfao he sensed the pocket circuit baybee_bat: omfg hi new people!!

“Holy shit.” Himari blurted out before holding a hand over her mouth, still very much in shock and/or disbelief as the chat continued to unravel.

fishki_nyama: Good evening, Hima-chan! ;) brahkest: NISHIKI!!! fanguu: HOW THE FRICK IS NISHIKI HERE??? looneyzune: IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING? looneyzune: ARE WE ACTUALLY WITNESSING THIS?? brahkest: APPARENTLY cosmomemory: N I S H I K I ? ? cosmomemory: himari you gotta win now deerstalker28: watch shes gonna win five in a row now that the king of pocket circuit is here aquaortus: @ deerstalker28 lol we can only hope

That was as much of her regulars’ messages Himari could read before the chat got flooded with greetings and emoji spams from the new viewers. She was still barely wrapping her head around the sudden raid from one of her favorite streamers of all time. Was Kazuma Kiryu really watching her stream right now? Did he actually bring his viewers to watch her?

What do you mean he knows she exists?

“Oh, wow.” Himari managed to say before attempting to clear her throat. “Hey there, newcomers. I’m… Geez, this has really took me off guard.” She let out a breathy awkward chuckle. “Erm… Okay so, hi. I’m InariHimari, but you can call me Himari or just Hima. I… damn, this is really throwing me for a loop! I’m honestly speechless, I can barely introduce myself.”

As if on cue, another chime played and Himari looked to see a different pop-up:

JudgementKazzy has donated $10.00!

“What the-“

“I heard you were trying out Pocket Circuit LIVE for the first time.” The automated voice of the Text-To-Speech played out over the stream audio. “My chatroom and I wanted to come and show our support.”

If Himari’s face wasn’t red from the embarrassment of the earlier losses, the fact that her favorite streamer is not only in her audience right now but has also donated ten dollars to show support was more than enough to turn her face as bright red as a tomato. She could only stare wide-eyed at her computer monitor (which was still displaying the post-match summary screen from the race she lost ten minutes ago) while chat continued to go wild over what was unfolding in real time. Thankfully, she was able to snap out of it in time to see a few new messages appear in chat:

JudgementKazzy: In order to win a race, you might want to customize your racer with the best components for the race you plan on doing. JudgementKazzy: Body, wheels, etc. JudgementKazzy: It might not seem like it, but these really do affect the outcome if you are new to the game. JudgementKazzy: As you currently are ;)

Himari would have blushed at the playfulness that last message seemed to imply had her face not already been so flushed already. Instead, she cleared her throat and adjusted her posture for the second time that night.

“Alright, then.” She said, placing her hand on her mouse and clicking off the summary screen to open a new race.

Through the delayed speed of the stream’s chat, Kiryu gave simple and helpful advice as Himari took baby steps in customizing her car. It was ridiculous to an extent, a grown woman playing an online racing game while being instructed by a man the same age as to how to best customize the digital car in order to win the digital race. But who cared? She was having fun and so was her audience! Wasn’t that what streaming was all about?

And besides, if this was the only way for her to interact with her favorite creator, she was gonna do whatever she could to make it last as long as she possibly could.

Sure enough, taking Kiryu’s advice paid off as Himari won the next five consecutive races, earning herself a few gatcha pulls that in turn won her a few rare items that would make her race better in the future.

“Sweet!” Himari pumped her fist in the air. “That was really fun. I can see how people can get real addicted to games like this.” She then turned to look at the chat. “I think now’s a great place to stop for now. Don’t wanna get too lost into it, you know?”

Sure enough, there was a few messages from Kiryu a few moments later:

JudgementKazzy: You did great, Himari. You’re picking up on it really quick. JudgmentKazzy: Hopefully I’ll be able to tune in for your next Pocket Circuit stream?

Himari grinned at Kiryu’s messages. “That… That would be awesome, Kiryu. You’re always welcomed here with me and my chat. Hope you have a great night!”

JudgementKazzy: Same to you! Have a great stream! JudgementKazzy: :)

And with that, Himari logged off of Pocket Circuit LIVE for the night and moved on to play a visual novel another chat member recommended.

But the whole time, she couldn’t get rid of the lingering feeling of butterflies in her stomach.

#macthedrag0n #ao3 crosspost #fanfic #fanfiction #oc fanfiction #oc insert #yakuza #yakuza oc #yakuza x oc #kazuma kiryu #kiryu kazuma #streamer!au