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#because his shit is good but MAN is it bleak

lizzaneia-elizalde · 4 days

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Yandere(?) Jing Yuan

MY HUSBAND ✨

A little warning though. I quit playing HSR after 2.something. I don't remember. But it's because my devices can't handle it anymore :( at least I got Jing Yuan before I deleted the game. So I am probably going to put some wrong information here. Especially the timeline. Forgive me! Also,I lied. I'm not making this fic NSFW. Have some not so good angst LMAO Of course, there's spoilers so... Spoiler alert! Notes: Highly OOC Jing Yuan. He's a lonely man fr fr. Also, an extra long fic as an apology for disappearing like that lol. Also, not even sure if this counts as yandere. But just to be safe, i'm putting it here. So, dead dove, do not eat.

Being a long time trailblazer from the Astral Express made you develop quite the wanderlust in you.

You were originally from Xianzhou. A spoiled kid of a rich family that decided to embrace the free life when the Astral Express first visited your planet.

You developed a strong friendship with Himeko and Welt, alongside treating Dan Heng and March as your little siblings/children.

When Stelle arrived in the Astral Express, it seems that your little family is complete. Sure, Stelle may be a little gremlin with a Stellaron inside, but hey. Family is family.

When the talks of going to Xianzhou appeared, you volunteered to guide Stelle and March around alongside Welt. You did miss your family, and wanted to prove that you weren't the same immature person before.

Well, you know what happened next.

The wharf being abandoned, littered with mara struck soldiers...

It seems that Xianzhou became worse for wear.

Fearing for the worst, you urged the three to follow you and defeated the Mara stricken soldiers in such precision.

Seriously. You follow Nihility since you want to be more laid back in your life. But why does life keep forcing lemons down your throat? Now, it's even your family being dragged in your bad luck!

You got dragged by the three around until you all got to the square, and immediately bade goodbye for the time being. Promising to help them as soon as they need to. For now, you need to get back to your family.

Once you got to the manor, you burst through the door and was immediately smacked to shit by your parents.

"YOU PRODIGAL CHILD! NOW YOU COME BACK HOME?! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE..."

A nagfest, you took in their worry filled words with a sharp edge before calming them down. You asked if any in your family have been mara stricken, but all of them shook their head thankfully enough.

Then, you noticed a man by the tea room. It seems that your parents forgot etiquette and abandoned their guest.

"AH! Forgive us, General! It's just this child... Oooh this child!"

You took a peak and was stunned.

Jing Yuan. The guy whose family is from the Realm-Keeping Commissions? And he's the general now? That's...

"You remember Yuan-yuan, right? Y/N'er?"

Oh you remember alright. How can you not? You loved this man a lot.

You squirmed under Jing Yuan's golden gaze that's filled with an unreadable emotion that you're sure had to do with your past.

And the past is what he desperately holds onto up to this day...

"General! The astral express--"

Jing Yuan's usual relaxed demeanor stiffened, his eyes going rigid. If one looks close, the chess piece he's holding onto cracked, making it glitch.

His face softener a bit as to not scare Yanqing more who stepped back a bit.

"Is that so? Thank you for the information, Yanqing. You can go rest now."

The kid nodded before walking away and leaving Jing Yuan alone.

His world, once so bleak and dry, suddenly had a drop of rain that he once missed and took advantage of, thinking it won't go away.

"Y/N..." He whispered to himself, putting down the piece and washing his face with his palm.

Other than Jing Liu and the others, you were one of the few people he's close to. Ever since you both were in the academy, you've always didn't like his quite stubborn nature. He didn't like his academic strand, wanting to be a cloud knight.

He noticed you pulling a face whenever he cuts classes, sleeps, loafs around... Sure, you were spoiled to bits, but at least you have the decency to be good in school.

So, he made it a point to annoy you greatly. Always popping around the block wherever you were, following you while talking your ear off... Doesn't help that he's a classmate, it's a daily annoyance that you gradually welcomed over time.

It's a friendship born from being together all the time. You watch him train with Jing Liu, taught him stuff he didn't understand, and in return, he would teach you how to fend for yourself since you always told him you wanted to travel the galaxy.

And that friendship developed into something more intimate. Exchanging shy giggles, flirty whispers, firsts of everything... Even without a label other than lovers, you both knew that you two are destined and tied together. Soulmates, if you will.

He's happy that you were by his side. With the quintet and you, how much more happiness does he need in his life?

But sometimes, so much happiness meant that there will be a terrible thing happening the next day.

Fortunately for you, you left Xianzhou before the Baiheng incident in the process of saving the Xianzhou Yuque. It was a timely flight that Jing Yuan supported so that you will be safe from the chaos that will unfold.

Unfortunately for Jing Yuan though, he paid the price of seeing his friends fall one by one.

Baifeng, sacrificing herself when fighting Shuhu, Dan Feng creating a draconic abomination in the process of trying to ressurect Baifeng and solving the Vidyadhara reproduction problem, Yingxing being backfired and becoming immortal stricken with mara, and JIng Liu, also struck with mara.

He watches as his beloved quintet crumble to dust in such a short time, even defeating his own beloved master in order to save so many lives and bring justice to those lost.

Jing Yuan had no one. No one to turn to, no one to confide in.

In times like those, what he yearned is you. For you to return, for you to look at him with so much grief, concern, and care.

All he wanted is your hug, your reassurance that it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't his burden to carry.

But you didn't return. Not even a peep, not even a soul.

700 long years of waiting, of bottling up his emotions that it almost spilt over.

Sure, he's happier now, but is he truly happy?

Deep inside, he kind of resented you for being so blissfully unaware of what happened to him. Of what happened to the quintet. You never even contacted him in those 700 years. Did you just forget your relationship just like that? Did you move on from him? He thought both of you were together forever?

Then slowly, he got jealous. Of you, at first. Just travelling across the galaxies without a worry in the world. How selfish of you to just run off to the farflungs of the universe just to never contact him again. Shame on you. He's a worried lover! How can he not? Then, he got jealous of the people that you must have met. How much were they charming you that you forgot about him, your soulmate?

He started visiting your family in year 300 too. Consoling them and telling that you were gonna go back home. When? Soon. Like really soon.

He found solace in your family that started treating him as their own son. Taking care of him when he visits, entertaining him with a game of chess, maybe even talk about their life.

He also heard more stories about you. About your spoiled attitude outside of school, of your rebellious years, of your wants and needs to see the outside. It's as if he's living vicariously through your parents, and relieving your memories in order to not forget you.

Then, he starts yearning for your presence once more after just trying to forget you.

It's a never ending addictive cycle that he's lost in the deep trenches in.

You were the only constant in this godforsaken world, the wine he yearns to drown himself in in order to forget his problems. But his problem is the wine, his problem is you. But the alcoholic he is, he continue to guzzle down the addictive taste until reality blurs with fantasy. In which a picture perfect world existed were nothing went wrong, and you were still there back in his arms.

Over the years, he somehow got over it. Turned to tea, thought about stuff. But your family reminded him so much of you and told so much stories of you that he became so attached to the idea of you.

He started a little hobby of writing letters to your non-existent being. Thinking you'll read them in the future. He refuses to believe that you're dead and rotting in a ditch somewhere. He knows that you're alive. He knows it.

He wrote down what he wishes to tell you, on what he wanted to do with you once you come back like a little drink, maybe even roam around and show you what Xianzhou looks like after 700 years.

Then, it devolved into his frustrations, anger, jealousy, and grief about what happened in those measly years. On why he wanted to have you so bad with him, to have the only remaining friend with him by his side. He wants to cling to you, to finally have a full on restful sleep, but also yell at you for leaving him behind.

He thought of the people that made you forget him. Of the people that took you away from him. Yes, they may, no, they ARE the reason why you weren't returning home. They must be.

He knows he's wrong. And he's working on it. A few letters down the road had him apologizing, telling he's in the wrong, and started writing about what to do once you come back.

Until those letters carried a weight that he's thinking of.

What will happen if you decided to stay in Xianzhou this time?

What will happen if something or someone made you stay?

What if, Jing Yuan forced you stay?

An absurd idea, but those letters quickly became a drawn out plan on what he'll do to make you stay by him, by his side. Eternally until the end of both of your lifespans.

And those letters were now safely kept in his hand. They will not see the light of the day.

The time he knew that the Astral Express came to their wharf, with Yanqing telling him, he immediately ran to Fu Xuan to know who are the passengers of the train that stepped out to help.

And there you are. You chose the path of Nihility. Fitting for a person like you who wished for everything, yet nothing. A spoiled kid who only wanted meaningless vices and thrills to fill the void inside. You grew up so much just as him.

What is this feeling inside? Relief? Resentment? Guilt? Love?

Woah, love? Really? Does he really still feel love for you? Or is that just a byproduct of the putrid mix of emotions inside of him?

He always knew his feelings for you never disappeared. It was supposed to be just a harmless puppy love that is forgotten over time. Like come on, it's been seven centuries.

But seeing you there, with your mother still nagging you, and your eyes locked onto him with an excited, naive look on your face made those forgotten emotions resurface.

And unfortunately, became an unfortunate ingredient in the rancid pot of emotions he bottled up over the years.

The General, known for being laid back and relaxed, can feel that image slowly crack and crumble every step you take towards him with a smile on your face.

It's so painful. How can you have that sweet smile on your face while he had to endure so much guilt and pain that he doesn't deserve to undergo?

What's worse is that your smile was lifting so much off of his shoulders to the point that he wants to drag those problems back to his shoulders and stubbornly hold onto them just to prove you a point.

He can't believe you had so much power over him. It's driving him insane how your mere presence shook the centuries worth of healing that he did for himself.

The conflicting thoughts started to whirl in his head.

He wants you to stay, but he wants you to disappear now that you're actually here.

In those mere seconds, he composed himself and gave you a soft smile. A smile that usually had a lazy quality in them now looks rigid.

"Y/N, my love. How are you? It's been seven centuries!" Calm and composed. That's what he wishes his voice sounds like.

You, sweet, oblivious you, hugged him with such a smile on your face. After all, Jing Yuan was your lover. And you hoped that he didn't hate you that much from not communicating.

"Yuan! I'm so glad I met you here again! Wow... You're a general now! How cool is that?!"

Your excited voice grated his ears to the point that he wants to cover it vehemently, but he also wants to get a hold of it and hear it over and over again. Reassuring himself that you're actually here in the flesh with him and not just a figment of his fractured reality.

With a smile, you grabbed his hand and got out of your parents' manor, wanting to apologize to Yuan by catching up.

Are you really that insensitive? Such naive thinking that by only talking things out, the problem will be resolved. Well, in your defense, you didn't know what happened with JIng Yuan and the quintet. All you knew is that they grew apart from the looks of it.

You didn't undergo the same traumatic experience that Jing Yuan did, the agonizing isolation, the years of waiting for that somebody to come home, and your mental health devolving into something more sinister, something that crosses with your logic multiple times.

But here you are, flashing your carefree smile at the dying Jing Yuan who squeezed out a chuckle.

He wishes that you burn in hell. He wishes that HE burns in hell. He wishes to burn with you, spending the last agonizing minutes with you finally in his arms again.

He grasps your hand, wrestling out an apology in his mind to you.

But he can't let you go until you knew of the agony you left him with.

And that's going to take a lifetime with you by his side, shackled and ruined.

It has been a whirlwind of emotions.

You saw Dan Heng, turn into your old friend Dan Feng. Well, his visage anyways. Were you that blind to not see the similarities? Or were you blocking the image out of your mind in order to protect your own peace?

And Yingxing, no, Blade. When did he turn into this immortal, suicidal maniac who wishes for nothing but death for himself and revenge?

And it's Dan Feng's fault? Dan Feng would never!

Your image of Dan Heng/Feng started to mix, making you dizzy and confused.

Baiheng. She died? Did she really? So did Dan Feng's ritual work or not? Did she reincarnate? Is she somewhere out there?

What happened in those years?!

And Jing Liu... Jing Yuan's master. Mara stricken and committed a massacre. That Jing Liu?

Jing Yuan even defeated her himself... Oh gods, did he just carry that burden all by himself? All those years... Centuries of pain and suffering that he didn't deserve.

The carnage, the aftermath, the result of grieving.

It's almost too much to bear for you.

And you were just out in the world, travelling and being all wishy washy, enjoying yourself with your newfound friends?

For gods sake, you were Jing Yuan's lover! Did you just forget about him just like that? Then those promises. Were those fake and surface level?!

How about your old friends? Did you even consider them? In those seven centuries, did you not even think of them?

Of course you did! But you swore that you thought that they're going to do fine!

Guilt riddled your weary body. Exhaustion catching up to you as you wept in your room.

So much to process, so much to grieve. It was almost too much if it weren't for Jing Yuan there to comfort you. Telling you that it was okay, that it wasn't your fault.

But what if's kept popping up your mind. What if you returned earlier? What if you were there for Jing Yuan? What if you didn't actually leave?

And Jing Yuan was so nice throughout the whole thing. You only talked to Dan Heng for a little while, but you need more time.

You felt so selfish for being like this. Why are you so affected when you weren't even there?

That's it. You weren't there. You weren't there for your friends, for Jing Yuan who only has you.

Seven centuries of loneliness... How did he even endure it?

You wanted to share the burden so bad, to be with him and atone for those time lost. You want to be there for him.

You are a terrible lover. A terrible friend, and a terrible person. Those phrases continued to mingle in your mind and wore you down to your barebones.

Now, even a sneeze from Jing Yuan warrants you to panic.

And Jing Yuan had a sick sense of satisfaction from seeing you wallow in sorrow.

Again, he knows it's wrong. He knows that he shouldn't be delighted in seeing you suffer.

But that side of him loves the attention he thinks he deserves. The care that he's deprived of, the love that he's blatantly robbed of.

So, he eggs that anxiety in yours on more by talking about the past and the pain he went through, his eyes narrowing in an indescribable stare as your person gets hammered down more and more.

It was eating him alive. But he assures himself that this is just temporary. Once he felt satisfied, he will start fixing you up again good as new.

And, as your parents urged you to finally marry Jing Yuan, and you nodding in desperation to make it up to him more from the centuries of neglect as his lover, Jing Yuan apologizes in his mind once more, and holds you close.

Hello love, you certainly gave everyone a scare. They're all just thrilled to see you safe and sound. As for this latest little game of yours, thank the stars it's over. Did you have fun? Did you get everything out of your system? Good, good. Everyone is so relieved. Welcome home, Y/n. -Jing Yuan

(Original, unedited quote from White Diamond in Steven Universe)

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 10 months

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I'm sure he's not the first in history, but for me definitely, the reason Fox Mulder was such a revelation is that I'd never seen a character before who seemed totally conscious of masculinity as a performance, while also being pretty good at that performance.

Like, we kid, but Mulder is doing pretty well, as a man! He's got a badge and a gun, prestigious credentials and a bunch of sharp-ass suits. He's smart, he's funny, he's hot, he's not primarily a fighter, but he can fight when he has to. If there's a fairly straightforward, down-the-line Socially Acceptable way to be a (rich white) man in the 1990s, Mulder is basically ticking all the boxes correctly.

What's cool about him -- and I personally think this is what Duchovny specifically, a known weirdo, brings to the character -- is that Mulder's subjective internal experience of the world is that he's a weirdo. He knows that. In his head, he's preoccupied with this wild psychodrama of his guilt and his paranoia. He lives kind of like a weirdo, when he's not on the clock. He seems to like and trust weirdos. He's pretty introverted and he has a weird, bleak sense of humor.

The feeling I always got about Mulder is that he knows he's ticking boxes. He wakes up every day conscious of the fact that he has a job to keep and he has to Act Normal, so he does things like get his suits tailored and work out and he's clearly playing a role, and he's only as invested in that role as he judges he'll benefit from. He doesn't actually give a shit personally, except that he needs people to tolerate him to a certain degree in order to be functional in the world.

I think he's so appealing to me because he was the first character I ever saw who seemed to be self-consciously participating in the game of Being a High-Value Man (before that specific lingo was coined), while clearly viewing the game as a useful absurdity. He's literally putting on and taking off his Patriarchal Authority Figure drag, for his own purposes, and that's a big chunk of what I've always loved about him.

#x files

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spiralwriting · 4 months

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Promises

(look at me being productive, woo hoo)

Promises should never be broken.

Despite the knots that tightened sickeningly in my stomach and the salty river that threatened to spill from my eyes with each passing second, that sentiment circled my brain, flashing like a neon sign.

No matter how much it hurt.

No matter how much I wish I could be anywhere but here.

A promise is a promise, no matter the pain it causes.

So in spite of the dread settling in my heart, I face the man I've come to visit- the man I promised to visit.

This is far from the first time I've sat on this decrepit old chair across from the equally uncared for table, but the white hot glare it reflects never ceases to scolded my eyes; exposing them to the ugly truth of the situation. A Truth I'd trade for anything: a miracle perhaps. A miracle I'd use to travel back in time, one I'd use to prevent this all from happening. How? I don't know, but I'm sure I'd find a way.

If only I had the chance.

Today is particularly grim, so grim in fact that I wish I hadn't even bothered rolling out of bed this morning. Although, I wouldn't miss today for the world, even if it causes me unparalleled amounts of agony.

I can't miss today, it might be my last opportunity to say goodbye, because I don't think I can bring myself to come back and face him if things don't end up going well.

"You didn't have to come today..." His voice, soft, yet tense. "I know this must be hard for you..." he feels it too, the pressure in the room.

Sighing, I shake my head, "No matter how I feel, today is important. I want to be here for you before shit goes down."

This afternoon, the final trial, the verdict. It's terrifying, but it's unavoidable. The gang has been together through thick and thin, today is no different. Currently, there have been no hints towards what might happen, so it's completely up in the air, which makes it that much more unnerving. Ashley is supposed to be giving a statement to the court, which is interesting, seeing as nobody had asked any of us to do so.

"Well I'm glad you're here," a small, feble smile spreads across his scarred face "I will admit, I was really happy when the guard told me you did end up coming."

I can't help the smile that creeps onto my face, knowing that I made his day a little brighter during this bleak time. "Good news for you then, I'm not going anywhere, love."

A yawn suddenly overtakes that smile, drowsiness swallowing my body. "You look exhausted," concern shadows his face "you haven't been sleeping right again, have you?"

I run a hand through my hair, averting my gaze to look at the dull concrete walls of the room instead of his rather unimpressed expression.

"Don't worry about it, just a couple of late nights." My eyes return to meet his, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"Mmhmm."

I can't help but laugh bitterly at his disbelief. I'm aware that he knows me far too well to fall for that blatant lie, and he knows it to.

"Let's be real here, the words 'sleep schedule' haven't been in my vocabulary since I was 12 and they released clumpy."

From the serious look on his face, he didn't appear to like my joke too much. "Has this whole thing been stressing you out? It's okay if it has, i understand that but it shouldn't stop you from functioning. You still need to take care of yourself-"

"Relax! It's nothing to do with this, it's just work n' shit." Lier.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He sighs in defeat, wether he believes me or not, he doesn't push further. "How have you been anyways? Up to anything interesting?"

I think for a moment, resting my head lazily in my hand, whilst the other traces imaginary shapes across the fridgid table. "No, not really. Life's been pretty boring since we lost most of the group." My eyes narrow "I spend most of my time working now, trying to get enough money to get myself a place." Head shifting to look at him once again, my hand stops and relaxes. "When I'm not working my ass off, I'm usually here." Or drinking my life away in the dark abis my room.

He sits back in his chair, tilting his head slightly, something I've always loved about him, even now, it's so... Cute. "When's the last time you spoke to ash?"

Mirroring his actions, my face falls in distain. "Not recently, that's for sure. I've talked to her about all this, but she's certain none of it is real, that were just deluded by childhood fantasies." A scoff falls from my mouth "So I haven't bothered with her."

"I know it's frustrating, she's expressed the same feelings towards me when she's been here, but you can't isolate yourself like this." He moves forward, holding his chained hand out for mine. I oblige. "You're gonna end up alone, and that's not what you deserve."

My grip on his hands tighten as I attempt to conceal my frustration, "I know, I don't want to end up alone, it's just so... Ugh!" Ripping my hands from his own, I rub my face, aggravated "I just don't understand how after everything she still doesn't believe us. After Larry, after Todd, after..." My gaze falters and falls to the table "... You."

"Her friends are getting hurt, and I don't understand how she just doesn't care." I burry my face in my hands.

After everything we've been through together, her complete disregard for anything I, or anyone else has to say, is pushing me to the edge. I know I'm not insane, despite what she might think.

"Don't say that," guilt consumes me at the somber tone of his voice "she does care, in her own way, she just... doesn't understand. She's still out friend, remember that."

I peek at him through my fingers, he's leaned forward again, brows knitted together and sad look in his eyes. He's hurt by her disbelief, I can see it, but like always, he sees the best in her, like he does with everyone. Like he did with me. He's so sweet, so kind, and I'm once again brought back to how. How could this happen? I believe him when he says he had no choice, but why. Why sal? Why the most genuine, most loving man on this earth? It's not fair.

But when has life ever been fair to him?

My head falls forward, hands dropping and hair covering my shameful face, "Yeah, sorry, you're right. I'm just frustrated, you know? It's hard to understand where she's coming from but... She probably feels the same way, huh?"

"Yeah, she does. Can't blame her, she was never as involved as we were in the cult."

The guilt falls away with the force of a waterfall, replaced with uncontrollable rage at the mention of the cult. They caused all of this. I haven't thought about, nor touched anything to do with it since the incident. Why would I when all it does it cause harm and heartache to those who get involved? As soon as this whole thing is over, I don't plan on sticking around long.

"Alright Mr. Fisher, times up." A guard saunters lazily into the room, looking at a sheet of paper. "you've got an appointment with Dr. Enon before your trial."

Blankly, I stare at the man that interrupted our conversation. The world around me begins to dissolve as I realise the time that approaches.

I rise to my feet, legs feeling numb, and as if I could collapse at any moment. My steps feel staggered as I make my way out of the melancholy room. In contrast to the dull, lifeless room I previously sat in, the seemingly endless halls are pristine, bright and somewhat less depressing. Though, it still feels devoid of life.

My body turns and takes a step forward towards sal.

"I'll see you in the court room, okay?" My hands caress his mask, fingers running smoothly across his scruffy hair. Guiding his face up, I lay the ghost of a kiss on his forehead, keeping it there for a moment. "I love you, Sal." A whisper, a secret, a promise, only for us to hear.

A relaxed exhale releases loudly through the holes of his prosthetic, head leaning against my chin slightly. "I love you too..."

"Come on, let's go!"

I glare at the guard overtop of the mop of messy blue hair, releasing his face and taking a miniscule step backwards. A smile sits painfully along my face as we say our farewells and I watch him turn and make his way down the hall.

I stand there for what feels like hours before he finally rounds a corner.

My face falls.

#sal fisher #sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #fanfic #part 1 #sal x reader #angst #tw death and shit #fanfiction #sally face fanfiction

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fairy-verse · 4 months

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im not sure if this has been asked yet, but do cross and killer know each other?

i'm asking as an avid kross shipper, but also as someone who really likes the fairyverse concept and they my two favourite blorbos so i just wanna know man

i feel like you've mentioned before they interacted??

would would they be like together? or how would killer go about courting cross? or cross courting killer?

who'd make the first move?

In the main story Killer and Cross will meet each other through one of Dream and Nightmare’s interactions. Cross and Killer both works as loyal guards for their mates, so they’d be made to stand together as Dream and Nightmare have a moment to catch up. In that time, Killer will do his best to get to Cross and either make him laugh or become flustered and shy. The latter is the gift he’s eventually rewarded with, and from that moment on he’ll decide that he and Cross are besties. Cross does not have mutual feelings… at first… but will eventually soften up to Killer’s shenanigans. They’ll be good friends, in the end.

In another story… Well, Killer would go about courting Cross. The black and white fairy is so stiff and stoic, and it’s possible that they met as Cross patrolled along Error’s borders one day. Killer just wanted to kill some time by annoying a prickly winter fairy, but oh, he’s a hybrid… Oh.

Well, that first meeting went terrible for Cross who felt like this annoying spring fairy just wanted to get under his armour and make him angry, but Killer is just smitten by this grumpy fairy, so of course he must court him. Cross is horrified once Killer regularly shows up to dance for him, all the while giving him those shit-eating-grins and telling him silly things and calling him stupid nicknames…

Courting dances alone won’t be enough to win Cross over, but a rather cold and bleak end of autumn where the winter winds arrive early will certainly soften him up. Killer had been taken by surprise, and Cross had to bring him into his nest to warm him up, and as the furs and woollen blankets hadn’t been enough… Well, he had to cuddle the stupid spring fairy to warm him.

Killer: “heh, you’re so blind, criss cross.”

Cross: “shut up and rest, idiot. you’re still shivering.”

Killer: “yeah, because you’re just so soft and warm, but still as blind as a troll in the light.”

Cross: “watch it, you—”

Killer: “i’m a hybrid, crossy. it’s not as easily noticeable like you, but i’m only half spring fairy.”

Cross: “… oh.”

Killer will shudder one last time before settling in closer against Cross, and as such, he will fall asleep.

Killer might be the one who took the first step into courting Cross and making his advances known, but it’s Cross who voice his growing feelings as he finally, finally reciprocates the dance one fateful spring’s day.

#i LOVE kross #they're one of my favourite pairs #aufairyverse #utmv #ask for the fairy #fairy!killer #fairy!cross #killer sans #cross sans

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pauking5 · 4 months

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Addicting Taste Chapter 8

Synopsis: Enishi Yukishiro was on a mission to execute his piece de la resistance. A plan to avenge his beloved sister. Until you showed up. Will you be a part of his downfall or will you try to save him?

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and sunshine protector, comedic relief, angst, slow burn, some fluff

Word count: 14k+

A/N: Welp, she's a long one but she's a good one. It could be taken as a filler but she's important to the story so I hope it's not too much of a nuisance read. Also, give a big welcome to none other than Sword Hunter, Cho Sawagejo. He was so bleak in the story it took me this long just to rewrite his character. He's important to the story so take this as his introduction! Chapter 9 is coming too and she's wild. Enjoy lovelies, Paula.

Now Playing: beating heart - ellie goulding.

"Miyu?"

No fucking way.

Is this some sick joke?

Of all people, he wasn't supposed to be here.

"Cho?"

Cho Sawagejo. Known as the Sword Hunter and one of the former Ten Swords, used to fight against the Meiji government. Additionally, he was an old friend of yours... sort of. The fact that history ran deep between you two was the understatement of the century.

Your hand froze on the golden doorknob, mouth hung open in shock to see him after all these years. Memories of him fired one after another in your head the more you looked at him, including those you tried really hard to forget. Your mouth moved on its own trying to make some sense of what you were seeing, but all that came out was whispers of his name. A name you wanted to forget for as long as you lived.

Snapping out of it you noticed he seemed to be in a bit of a situation, which was something normal for him, considering how you met each other.

4 years ago

Life was a constant fight for survival. You escaped the fighting rings in Edo but you did so at the cost of having to fend for yourself in the only way you knew: killing.

A rookie assassin, with barely enough training, murdering to stay alive. You barely got hired because your face said you didn't have experience like others did. But once they saw what you could do with two pistols and a heart that was hungry for mayhem they instantly hired you.

As much as you wanted to do something else with your life, you couldn't. You lived with the sole goal of finding your parents, even if it meant destroying your soul in the process.

There were times where your appetite got insatiable and you killed more than you needed to. It was where Barairo got her reputation from, Yokohama's crimson rose turning into a twisted bloodthirsty demon.

The only advantage of letting her out was that it made getting some of the jobs done easier. Though the stench of her blood soaked claws haunted you every night together with your usual nightmares.

You worked on yourself trying to limit her vengeful spirit so you could focus properly on missions. Little by little, she retracted back in her cage and all that was left was you. A woman so sure of herself that nothing could stop her.

Until you met him and all of that went to shit.

You got the job to kill a really well-known conman who got on the nerves of the wider business community in Osaka. He stole a lot of money from them and it was to no surprise most of them wanted his head on a pike. Multiple people got hired starting a hunt for him but there was a catch. Whoever got the job done first was rewarded with half of the stolen money. You had to move fast if you wanted to be first. Because you wanted it badly.

The plan was simple: get in his highly secured villa, put a bullet through his skull and be on your way. But things didn't work exactly like you wanted them to.

Come on now, did they ever? It's a Miyu Hikari tradition at this point.

You staked out the man's mansion for a full 24 hours under the scorching heat of the summer sun. Every time you wanted to go in and get the job done, a flurry of guards would round the grounds and you had to move spots constantly. Sweat trickled down your back in waves, clothes drenched to the brim from just sitting in the bushes. Summer was definitely not your favorite season, especially when you had jobs like this to do.

Finally, when the night let out you managed to advance. Infiltrating inside was a fluke, easily taking out the small number of guards on night duty. Checking for any more of them in all rooms at the bottom floor, you made your way to the top floor where his master bedroom was located. Getting a little distracted by completing the mission, bags of steaming dumplings occupying your mind more than the mission at hand, you failed to see the incoming competition.

You just rounded the top of the stairs when something clanged against the window behind you. You turned around in a heartbeat, guns held out ready to pull the triggers. Intuition told you to put multiple holes through whoever it was until you got a better look at him.

There he was, one leg in and two sharp katanas held between his teeth, trying to balance his way inside the mansion. You lowered your weapons as your curiosity piqued by the man before you. You retracted to a dark corner away from his line of sight, silently snickering at his struggle. The moment he finally got himself through the threshold and thudded to the floor making the loudest noise possible triggered a fit of giggles from you you couldn't keep inside anymore. If the guards were still alive and breathing they would have had his ass so fast.

Once he heard you, he got back to his feet and made quick movement to hold one of his katanas to your throat. You stopped laughing and put your hands up in fake surrender deciding to mock him a little.

"Who are you?"

"Someone on the same mission as you. You're kinda late to the party though."

Seeing as you weren't too much of a threat, he put down his sword. He cleared his throat to sound more sure of himself than he appeared to be and smoothed a hand over his hair that was sat in all directions, including his mouth. He looked harmless without his katana unsheathed. If this was your competition you surely held yourself a lot better in the short time you've been working the field.

"Thank you for the clean up, but I'll take it from here."

I just gave you the benefit of the doubt dude. Turns out I was wrong.

"I think the fuck not."

Pointing your pistols his way, you got ready to defend your territory. There was no way you would let this rando of all people steal your moment after you did most of the work.

He flashed you a smirk and in the blink of an eye vanished. Confused, you spun around to see the door to the master bedroom opened. It was way too dark but once your eyes focused on the shadow lurking above the man tucked in bed with his katanas ready to slice him open, you panicked. Thinking fast you aimed at the man the best you could in the pitch black, using the glimmer of light reflecting off the blade as guidance and took the shot. One of the blades intercepted your bullet just before it could hit the man, cutting it in half, leftover pieces of the bullet flying into the bed frame. You gasped in shock as he chuckled darkly.

"Nice try."

Beyond annoyed at him and determined to see this mission through, you put the guns back in their hold and got into a fighting stance.

"I was here first. I am not moving an inch before I kill him," you rasped.

He smirked and sheathed his sword, walking closer to you and mirroring your position.

"Fair enough. Let's see if you've got any real fight in you."

He went easy on you, thinking you couldn't fight him.

Terrible mistake.

The minute he came at you, you sent him flying to the other corner of the room, watching as his back hit a dresser tumbling down to the floor with him. He got up and lunged at you and you dodged all of his moves. When his punches got sloppy, it was your turn to swing at him, decorating his face with your fists. At one point your hits turned slower and he managed to lay down a few punches of his own. He caught you off guard and pushed you into the wall, hands digging hard into your arm as he pinned you to it. Amused at your struggle to break free, his head dipped down to your ear.

"Is that all you've got, princess?"

"Don't call me that ever again."

He pissed you off beyond coming back now. You growled and threw your head into his with all the force you had, throwing him off balance enough for him to release you and to drop down and swipe his legs from under him. As soon as he was flat on the ground you straddled him, pining his hands beside his head.

Trying to will some breath back into your lungs you looked at him and he looked at you for a while, taking in the damage you've both done to each other. One looked worse than the other, a broken nose gracing his face as payback for the cut lip he gave you.

His dark eyes had you in a trance. There was something about him that screamed danger but familiarity the more you looked at him. A weird feeling crawled up your spine and you couldn't help the sensation that something was really wrong. Snapping out of it, you straightened and got up from the floor, looking around at the mess you've caused. You wondered why the man wasn't awake and screaming for mercy or applauding the free fight show in his bedroom. You moved to the king sized bed in spite of the protests to continue the fight and examined the man tucked into bed. You pulled the duvet down from his face and the marks around his neck told you all you needed to know.

"Someone got the job done before us."

"What?"

He ran next to you following your pointed finger to the neck of the man who appeared to have been dead for a while. How did none of you notice this before?

"The guards were pretty much alive when I arrived. Whoever killed him must have been waiting for him here."

You pulled the curtains near the window so the light could filter in a little more. Truthful to your suspicion, there were no signs of forced entrance on the window sill or the door, so it had to be a job from the inside. Main conclusion was that you were left with a busted ego and you could kiss your precious dumplings goodbye for a while.

"Well, that's a bummer," he said, slumping against the wall. At least you weren't the only one disappointed.

"We should leave before more potential suitors want to decorate him and us as collateral damage."

You made a move for the door only to hear shouts and multiple pairs of boots rushing up the stairs.

We're in deep shit.

Closing the door, you tried to pull the wardrobe in front of it to block the men from entering. It was too heavy to push by yourself so he moved to help you. You successfully barricaded yourselves inside just as angry fists started banging on the door. You moved away from it and scanned the room for a way out. The big double window looked like the only viable option. You hesitated in even suggesting it as an escape route but he seemed to have other plans as you watched him run over to it and bust it open with a chair. Shards of glass flew everywhere on the floor and the banging on the door intensified. You rushed to the window where you were met with a five meter drop to a patch of grass smaller than your hopes and dreams at the moment.

Hell no, nuh-uh. I'm not playing the flying bird game.

He was out of his fucking mind if he thought that was a safe plan, but before you could say anything he just jumped out first with his katanas strapped to his back, swiftly landing on his feet. Your jaw dropped open.

Okay, so he is indeed out of his fucking mind.

He looked back at you, waiting for you to follow, but the way you gripped the curtains told him you weren't keen on jumping too. He couldn't leave you there when there was no telling how many men were behind that door that was now close to being torn open.

"Look, I know you don't know me, but I need you to trust me and jump the fuck out," he yelled at you, trying to get your attention away.

"You want me to trust you in willingly pivoting down to my death?"

"It sounds horrendous when you put it that way. I promise I will try to catch you."

Putting my life in the hands of a stranger who tried to kill me just a few moments ago? Not a chance. But I want to taste my favorite buns again, alive and breathing on this earth.

Getting on top of the windowsill, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, jumping out. Truthful to his promise, he caught you, falling down on the grass with you in his arms. He cushioned your fall and your head landed in the crook of his neck, his scent closing around you. He smelled like vanilla and lavender. The way he cushioned your fall made you think you were laying in a field of flowers but that might have just been the euphoria from the fall, pumping adrenaline through you.

You opened your eyes to be nose to nose with him, breaths meeting halfway. Through the messy blonde hair falling over his bandana, you noticed his eyes were actually a deep shade of brown as they bore into yours. You lifted your hand to brush his locks away halting when you heard more shouts and commotion behind you. Quickly, you got up and pulled him up too, bolting towards the gates. His hand intertwined with yours as you both ran until you reached town.

Finally stopping at the back of a shop you checked around for any sight of the men following, relieved to see none. You closed your eyes willing in a breath when you felt something weighing down your hand. You looked down and he followed your gaze to your hands that were still tightly locked together. He let go first, rubbing his neck nervously.

That's cute.

His touch ghosted on your finger tips and you cradled your hand close. You've never been this close to anyone before.

"That was eventful," he exhaled.

"Yeah. Thanks for catching me back there, uh..."

"It's Cho. And of course! Anytime, uh..."

"Miyu."

"Miyu," he said your name softly. "Well, Miyu, if you ever find yourself in a pickle or something like that again feel free to call on me."

He smiled genuinely at you this time, previous cocky smirk gone. It made you feel warm inside for some reason but you quickly shook that thought away.

"I'll make sure to call on you then."

A lot of time passed after your encounter. Summer turned to fall and winter. There were times where you laid awake at night and your mind drifted to him, contemplating his offer. He shouldn't be that hard to find if need be to have him help on a mission and it felt tempting to team up with someone else, especially since your fighting styles were so similar.

You finally met again a few times after you were both hired on other missions. You fought your way out of them together, often splitting the earnings. It turned out you made a really good team, your logical skills complementing his sword skills just right.

You started hanging out more and paired most of your missions together, getting to know more about each other. Soon enough, he turned into a part of your routine and you were inseparable, both on and off the field. You ate together, fought together and trained together.

He opened up about himself too. He told you why the Ten Swords fell to their demise with the new government and how he was left wandering for a while until he took up sketchy jobs like you. You told him a little about yourself and your mission to find your parents. He thought it was admirable to have a goal like that and eished he himself had one that righteous.

Over time, one thing led to another and you found yourself catching feelings for him. It was stupid really. He did the smallest things, like throwing you one of his crooked smiles full of mischief whilst stabbing someone who tried to attack you or getting you dumplings because he knew how much you liked them. You even started liking the annoying way in which he called you princess instead of your name, reatliating with a nickname of your own for him, blondie.

All these gestures were small, but you couldn't deny that they made you swoon. Your feelings only grew stronger the more you spent time with him and it took everything in you to work out the courage to confess to him.

But you never got to tell him how you felt.

And it was all his fault.

You spent years thinking of what you would say if you ever saw him again, only for all those words to erase themselves from your mind the minute you laid your eyes on him tonight.

He was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. A man sat in front of him most likely torturing him up to the moment you and Enishi entered. He was now turning around to you with a big knife in his hand, blood dripping from the blade onto the white carpet. You interrupted him and he didn't seem too happy about it because he quickly lunged at you. You wasted no time in kicking away the knife from his hand and knocking him out with a roundhouse kick.

"Fancy seeing you here, princess."

You sure didn't miss that nickname. As much as it grew on you back then, it made you beyond disgusted to hear it now.

"I wish I could say the same. Who did you piss off this time?"

"A lot of people as you can see," he spoke motioning to his body littered in cuts and bruises.

His white shirt, now a mix of dried blood and dirt, was torn in most places, just like his skin. Your eyes lingered over the cuts on his arms that appeared to be made with small knives. Your gaze stopped on the gash on his leg which was definitely the product of the knife you kicked away from the man's hand. It looked deep enough to drain a normal person.

But he wasn't a normal person.

"I hate to break up this reunion but we have more guests incoming," said Enishi rather alarmed. And he had every reason to be because you heard the rapid footsteps in the hallway most likely rushing to the room you were in. His hand latched on your arm in urgency to pull you towards the door but you froze.

"This feels oddly familiar," said Cho with a chuckle.

His face was so pale and devoid of colour that it scared you. He looked barely alive but he still carried that shit-eating grin on his face and it annoyed you to the world's end for some reason.

"Miyu, we have to go," pressed Enishi.

You looked at him then back to Cho. It wasn't in your nature to leave people behind, especially wounded people. Both of the men looked at you expectantly, one more desperate to get out of there than the other.

I can't leave him here. But I can't stay here either.

Your brain was already working at an inhumane speed trying to process everything. Once you made your mind up and opened your mouth to say something you got interrupted by the men pooling inside the room.

About ten of them circled you, lining up around the walls to push you towards the center of the room. You surrounded Cho defensively. He was tied to a chair and in no way fit to fight even a fucking fly. As much as you hated his guts you needed to protect him.

You pulled out your guns and scanned the men to see only half of them were armed. You looked at Enishi and he nodded at you telling you to open fire.

You shot at the armed men while Enishi launched at the others. You threw a table down and took cover behind it, shooting at them. You took out most of them before you ran out of bullets.

Oh, for fucks sake, I really need to carry refills with me.

You got out from behind your hiding spot and stretched your arms, preparing your fists.

Your first opponent was a fairly big guy that cornered you at a wall. He came at you with the intention to put you through the wall, but you were quicker and grabbed his hands, sliding between his legs to drag him after you. You kicked the back of his head and he fell forward, his own head going through the wall instead.

Another one spotted you and you broke into a sprint, using the wall to push yourself up and swing your leg in his face. He fell on his back getting the air kicked out of his lungs. It was one fo the aerial tricks Enishi taught you recently and it came in handy.

Enishi left a trail behind him. Most of the men on the floor were just slightly knocked out. He finished knocking the last two head to head and let them fall to the floor with a thud.

Seeing that he was safe, you turned and ran to Cho, untying him as fast as you could. The rope around his wrists was tied so tight it made them bleed. You stopped in your tracks slowly tracing your fingers over them. What the hell did they do to you? You bit your lip trying to keep yourself together. This was not the time to be soft.

"You don't have to take me with you," he grunted as you got his hands free. "I'll only slow you down."

You went and crouched in front of him looking him straight in the eye. The you back then told you to leave him here to suffer like he did to you. To let him get out of his own mess by his own two feet if he still held himself so prideful. But present you was not the like her.

He didn't deserve your help at all. But you knew the guilt coming with leaving him here would eat you up later. And you didn't need that right now.

Without saying a word, you got one of his arms and draped it around your shoulders to get him up. He groaned in pain when he put weight on his injured leg and you wrapped your arm around his waist to balance him better.

Did he get ripped or something? I swear he wasn't this heavy before.

Enishi looked at you nothing short of confused. His face told you he had a lot of questions. But yours looked conflicted to the point he was sure a hurricane was already brewing in your mind. He knew now was not the time for asking questions, considering there were five mafias willing to shish kebab the three of you without as much of a reason besides the fact that you breathed inside their territory. Getting out of this place as soon as possible was the priority.

He rushed to the other side of Cho and lifted his arm, helping you carry him. You looked at him and he locked eyes with you, reassuring you he had your back. Even if he had no idea what the fuck was going on. You sent him a grateful look and he nodded, a small smile of acknowledgment on his lips.

The three of you managed to slip out the back of the villa and you quickly got into the carriage, avoiding being seen by anyone. The ride back to the mansion turned from relief to utterly painful. For both you and the blonde bleeding out next to you. You kept patting his cheeks to keep him awake every time his head fell on your shoulder. Once you were sure he was conscious enough, you turned your head to the window getting lost in thought.

Cho being back resurfaced so many feelings and memories you tried so hard to drown out over the years and you could do nothing to stop the flood.

Screw me for wanting to help all the time. It only comes back to bite me in the ass anyways.

Another thing weighing hard on your heart was that you didn't find your mother tonight. Or any leads on where your parents could be. Oh, and apparently the man you interrogated, the one who was the only one who knew something about the whereabouts of your parents escaped, since most of the men on duty were mobilised for the ball in case shit went sideways. Conclusion, it was by far the shittiest you've ever felt.

The carriage stopped in front of the mansion and Enishi got down first holding his hand to you to help you down. But you were too worried about the other man bleeding on the beige carriage seats and got down by yourself, dragging him down after you.

Enishi was left behind as you hastily went inside. A weird combo of regret and sadness were spinning around his heart at everything that happened tonight. He knew you probably felt defeated about what went down and blamed yourself for the outcome. He needed to talk to you asap about everything. For now, he was going to give you the space you needed for a while to tend to your guest.

With a storm raging in your mind and a bleeding man supported solely by your shoulders, you trudged the hallways to an empty guest room. You found one two doors down from your room, in case he needed further assistance.

You pushed the doors open with a huff and helped him sit downon the bed, rushing to look for medical supplies. You scoured every drawer both in the room and the bathroom throwing everything on the floor in the process. You were growing anxious and angry at the fact that you didn't find anything you needed. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself you tried looking again through the mess on the floor and found what you needed. Chucking everything back to its place with shaky hands, you went back to him to start taking care of his wounds. You felt his stare at you as you started working on the cut on his cheek.

"It's good seeing you after all these years."

You say that as if we're the best of friends who went our own ways and just met up to talk over tea and biscuits.

You ignored his attempt at making conversation and helped him shimmy his way out of his shredded shirt as he grunted at the movement. He was held captive for a while, judging by the darkened bruises around his ribs.

"You look different," he continued, trying to get you to talk to him.

You tensed as you moved to patch up the bigger cuts on his arm.

What does different even mean in his vocabulary?

You didn't change that much. If anything you got better at detecting bullshit when you saw it. Looks wise you just looked better in the mirror and didn't have a bird's nest on your head anymore.

On the other hand, he looked absolutely the same as the last time you saw him, with a slight upgrade to his wardrobe choices, plus a few muscles here and there. His hair was a darker shade of blonde now, unfitting for the nickname you used to call him by.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" you asked absentmindedly, trying to humour him for the sake of conversation and to take the edge of a little.

He dipped his head down to the side you were patching his arm and took a proper look at you.

You were different since the last time he saw you.

Your hair was longer, curling around your shoulders ever so slightly. You held yourself a lot more confidently than he knew you to be. But the thing that changed the most about you was your eyes. He used to be able to tell what was going through your head by just one look. Now, they were rougher and didn't let him in like they used to. It wasn't that you were hiding. You just closed yourself off entirely, at least to him.

"That wild spark in your eyes is gone. That's what I liked the most about you."

You narrowed your eyes at him and it took everything in your power not to snap at him. Tell him everything that's been weighing on your heart. Shoot words at him hoping he would understand the pain he put you through. But you had to keep it together so you settled for some sarcasm as you tied one of the bandages a bit tight on his arm.

"So what? I'm not to your standards now?"

The big gash on his leg was the last thing left unbandaged and you moved to it to get it done and be out of the door. But god forbid something could go the way you wanted today because he leaned forward to catch your hand.

The sharp inhale of air you took was to ground you from exploding. You noticed his touch was still the same one that used to make you shiver with butterflies.

Cho was a touchy person and it only added to your feelings back then. It made your insides twist remembering the effect it had on you.

"That's not what I meant."

You tried to avoid his eyes but you couldn't do it, letting them find his. You were surprised to see them filled with nothing but sincerity.

"Look, I'm sorry."

Oh, hell no. I am not doing this right now.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," you yanked your hand away from his grip. He wanted to say something else but you didn't give him the chance as you packed the medical supplies and put them away. You put some clothes borrowed from Enishi on the bed and bid your goodbye.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

You made your way out of the room hoping to get to yours faster. The dress suddenly felt too tight on you and you needed to get out of it before it constricted your air flow. You had a hunger for chaos boiling inside of you and you didn't know how much longer you could keep it inside.

Before you made it to your room you bumped into Enishi. He seemed to be looking for you since you just left him hanging outside. You didn't want to worry him and thought of something to say to cut the incoming interrogation short.

"Can we talk-"

"Look, Enishi. I need to get out of this dress and get some sleep, but I will tell you everything you need to know in the morning. Deal?"

You let the words out in a rush and he looked dazed for a moment as he processed them. He tilted his head and let his eyes linger on your face. You looked way more exhausted than you were when you left for the ball. He could also tell something was eating at you by the way you were frowning. He decided he could wait until tomorrow.

"Okay."

He put a hand on your shoulder rubbing it in comfort and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. It felt so soothing that it made the burning fire in your heart dim a little.

"But we're gonna talk tomorrow," he added. You nodded and placed your hand on his squeezing it in reassurance, before walking off to your room.

You felt bad leaving him like that againbut you weren't in the right mindset to sit and talk about your past right now. Maybe after some sleep and thinking you would be.

Sleeping was a torture. You couldn't fall asleep at all, tossing and turning until the sheets bunched up under you. Your pillows got warm fast the more you switched sides and it pissed you off. The universe was against you catching one wink of sleep.

Getting annoyed, you sat up and threw the duvet away letting it fall on the floor. You laced your fingers through your scalp trying to massage the storm of thoughts away, but it only got more unbearable.

Your head was getting so loud swirling with countless questions. You drowned yourself in regrets and what ifs.

The regrets revolved around the reasons why you saved Cho. You hoped it would leave your conscience clean but it only made it worse. He was two doors away from you and you weren't sure if it was a case of being that close to him that had you on edge of your feelings coming back. You also regretted the mission a lot and well, pushing Enishi away like that when he clearly wanted to help you.

The what ifs surrounded the feelings you had for Cho that were definitely awakening in your heart again. It felt like they never left, as if they just laid dormant until they felt him near to wake up. It was like a grenade was placed in your hand without a safety pin. And you couldn't do anything to stop it from blowing up the more you thought about him and that night that changed everything.

3 years ago

One of your clients sent you on a hunt for a powerful businessman. He was in possession of a samurai tachi sword belonging to the great Fukushima Masanori, who fought in the Battle of Shizugatake almost 300 years ago. Legend says it was the sword that drew the first blood in the battle. It was worth millions on the arms trade market. To have it hung up somewhere and just admire it whenever you wanted was truly a rich person activity.

Your client wanted you and Cho to work together and steal it. Most people who hired you knew you worked better together and often came as a package deal, but none of them asked you to do so until now. Frankly, he was a client of Cho's and he reassured you that he worked with him before and that there was nothing to be worried about.

You've been staking out the businessman's building for a while now, watching out for any sign of movement. A bonus clause of the deal was to take him out too, since your client had some hatchet to bury with him he wouldn't tell you about. You were getting hungry and tired while Cho stepped out. You didn't expect him to come back with dumplings.

"I got you these. It was the only thing I could find around here."

"You didn't have to."

You munched away on your buns, peering at his back from time to time. He leaned over the railing busy scanning the streets.

It's been a year since you've met on that mission. You loved spending time with him and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

You've been paying more attention to his actions and words towards you and you could tell that he had feelings for you too. From the way you caught him looking at you when he thought you wouldn't notice. Or the fact that he would spend money on dumplings for you every time you sighed when you saw them, knowing you were saving yours up for other things. Those things were expensive as hell nowadays, but he still chose to treat you to them on occasion.

Your feelings for him grew stronger day by day and you had to tell him how you felt before you combusted spontaneously.

"Cho?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to tell you something."

He hummed as a sign for you to continue, busy scanning the area. Your heartbeat quickened, drowning out the rest of the world around you, the only thing on your mind being those five words. You thought of many different ways to tell him and all kinds of words passed through your mind, some cringier than others. The normal "I like you" should be enough considering none of you were big on declaring things. You did try to confess a fee times before but it always got blocked by something.

Deciding against beating around the bush while you still had time on your hands, you took a deep breath and just went for it.

"I think I like-"

"They're on the move," Cho cut you off.

You sighed in defeat. There went my chance.

Cho got up and you followed, throwing away the empty bag of dumplings with your almost confession in it. Turns out it had to wait until you were done with the mission.

The man you were after arrived in front of the building with a few of his men and went inside. You looked for a way in and noticed a window on the side of the first floor but it was too high. Cho put his hands together motioning you over. He used them to propel you upwards and after a few failed tries you successfully reached it. You found it slightly creaked open and climbed in through it, with him following suit.

You helped him in and landed down inside, taking a look around. The place was full of crates stacked on each other nearly reaching the roof. One of them was opened near you and you cautiously walked over to take a look. It was filled with guns. But not just any guns. They weren't branded and most of them looked like imports from abroad, which meant that they came off the black market. Only one group had access to this much ammunition: the mafia.

This wasn't your first rodeo with a mafia but you knew you had to be extra careful. Snooping around some more you found a big crate made from dark wood. It looked out of place compared to the others. You motioned Cho to it and you tried prying it open as silently as you could, to not attract any unwanted attention. Digging inside among strips of paper your hand landed on what felt like the handle of a briefcase. You pulled it out and looked at Cho. Opening it you found jsut the katana you were looking for, dark sheath decorated in golden chrysanthemums, a symbol of royal value bestowed upon the most trusted samurai. Unsheathing it, you ran your hand along the worn out hilt in awe at the fact that you were holding a relic of ancient Japanese history. Illegally but then again what you were doing wasn't legal either.

One of the guards walked in and spotted you, not thinking twice before opening fire on you. You took cover behind the crate and threw the briefcase over to Cho, getting your guns out to fire back. More men came to see what caused the ruckus and started shooting as well once they saw you taking some of them down.

You shot your pistols until the trigger clicked empty. Slumping back against the crates you needed to think of a way out that didn't involve getting bullet holes punched through you and you had to do it quickly.

You turned to your right and noticed Cho was no longer next to you. You looked around and saw him by the window you came in through, one leg away from freedom with the briefcase in his hand. The window was hidden from sight which made it the perfect escape.

He waved his hand and you thought he was waving you over. You waved your hand at him too telling him there was no way you could reach him while they were still firing at you. He smirked down at you and you tilted your head at him in confusion.

What the hell was he doing?

That's when it clicked. The way he was holding the briefcase. The shushed talks with the client behind your back. That stupid smirk.

You've got to be shitting me.

He used you. While you shot away at the men he used that as cover to get away. He used you to get this far because you knew how to plan things so the game would play out in your favour. There was no telling if he didn't use your feelings as leverage as well. And all this time you hoped he felt the same.

He trained you. He ate with you. He slept next to you. You worked together for almost a year. He pretended to care about you only to toss you to the side. It was all a fucking lie.

Son of a bitch.

With one last look at you he jumped out, leaving you at the mercy of fate. There was not a single glint of regret in those eyes you learned to love so dearly as they disappeared behind the wall. He took you for a fool and you were so blind to see it.

Every mission you did together flashed in front of your eyes. Every moment you spent together. Everything you told each other. Only for him to throw it all away for a chunk of money.

You didn't know what hurt more. Your heart for being stupid enough to try to love. Or your soul, for believing in the good in people.

One thing was certain. You let Barairo out that night, after years of struggling to keep her away, leaving the building covered in blood and with a broken heart. All because you loved him.

Only god knows how you made it out of there. But you completed the bonus gruesome part of the mission, killing the businessman and all his guards with your bare hands. Using her.

It took you years to get her back in, away from people. You fought her to the bone, until you managed to lock her away for good. But the damage was already done. You swore not to let yourself get played like that ever again.

He abandoned you there. You told him how much it hurt when your parents disappeared and he knew how much it scarred you. And he still did it in the most fucked up way he could think of.

Your memories were of a person that sold his soul to whoever paid more for his interests and you wanted nothing to do with him. You swore to put a bullet through his head the next time you met.

But you couldn't help the hurt that came with your reunion tonight. Seeing him again only reignited that pain in you. The same smirk he parted away from you with plastered on his lips in the exact same way tonight.

Why can't I just forget he exists? Why is he still in my head like he never left?

It hurt like hell and no matter how much you tried to erase him your heart wouldn't let you. She would keep reminding you of him everywhere you went.

It was also why you were afraid of what you felt for Enishi. He was different than Cho. Gentler, kinder and understanding. But it scared you that your feelings were in so deep now to be able to get back from it. And you had no security that history wouldn't repeat itself once you let yourself fall for him.

It was times like these you wished your mom was here, able to give you some advice. To guide you towards what was right and kill some of the pain away. You hoped desperately to find her at the ball tonight. Either the man gave you a false lead or they were alerted you were coming and she was moved elsewhere. You didn't know. And that only made everything else worse.

How much longer do I need to search to find her? To find dad? Are any of them even alive anymore? Is there even a point to keep looking for them?

Your thoughts were eating you up again and you needed a distraction before it got too much. Grabbing your pistols from the nightstand and a few cartridges you walked the hallways in a haste to reach the outside garden. The cold stung on your exposed arms but you paid it no mind as you strung up a few targets and started shooting at them.

Normally, shooting for practice relaxed you and gave you the clarity you needed to think things through. But shooting to relax turned into shooting your anger and hurt away pretty quickly. At one point you stopped shooting at the targets and just shot through the blur of your tears, aim faltering away from the targets. You aimed at the trees, the ground, the air. Anything just to feel your pistols empty hoping that your feelings were etched into every bullet so you could stop feeling them.

Enishi was in his office when he heard the shots. He tensed at first ready to get into butchering mode until he recognised the familiar click of your pistols. He rushed to your room thinking something happened only to find you gone, sheets on a disarray on the floor. He followed the sound only to find you in the garden, angrily shooting at something in the dark. He walked closer and sighed when he saw the tears streaming down your face. You seemed devoid of the world around you as you shot away and that scared him a little.

One of your pistols was left without bullets and you angrily threw it away, pulling the other one out from its hold. He had to stop you before you hurt yourself or someone else. Getting a little closer he called your name multiple times. But all you could focus on was the click of your gun and the sound of the bullets ricocheting off the trees.

“Miyu, you need to stop," he said, cautiously taking another step towards you.

“No," you shook your head.

He couldn't take this from you. It was the last thing you had that you knew how to do. The last thing keeping you sane right now. If he took it away you would lose the last glimmer of self control you had.

“Give me the gun," he tried again, voice a little softer this time.

“Leave. me. alone," you growled.

You wanted him to leave you be. To just go back inside and forget he ever saw you like this. Because you knew if he pressed on you would let go of all rational thought and say something you didn't mean. Something that you would regret. But he stood his ground, taking a few more cautious steps towards you.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That was enough to trigger your pent up anger. Everyone in your life left. Your parents, the people you loved, even Cho. What if Enishi would wake up one day and choose to leave too? You convinced yourself he didn't mean it. That he was just saying it now without any security that he would feel the same tomorrow.

“Enishi, please just go!" you yelled as you turned around to him, the last of your munition emptying away in the murky ground. You took a shaky breath as you kept pressing the trigger, turning the gun around and hitting it with your palm trying to make it work, but the empty click of the gun was still the only sound that greeted you.

“Fuck."

You didn’t realize you were sobbing until your sight got too blurry with tears and you started wiping furiously at your face. Enishi went forward and closed the distance to you, warily wrapping his hand around yours that was holding the gun. Loosening the grip of your fingers, he gently took the gun out of your hands and dropped it next to the other one on the ground.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t hold the pain in anymore. A wail of a sob crawled its way out of your throat, letting out the last fractures of your anger. You crumpled down on the ground, nails digging into the grass around you to hold yourself together a little more. Enishi knelt down to you and wrapped his arms around you. You tried fighting him off, pushing him away as much as you could but his hold was too strong. You punched his chest, desperately trying to get away from him, but he just wouldn't budge. You didn't want to hurt him too, because if you did, you would never forgive yourself.

Your punches got slower the more you sobbed until you settled for gripping his shirt tightly in your hand. He only tightened his arms even more around you, pressing you against his chest.

He hated seeing you like this. It was breaking him inside to know the pain you were feeling all too well because it was the same kind of pain he dealt with alone for years. But none of you were alone anymore. You had each other now and he needed you to know that.

“It’s okay," he whispered.

“Enishi,” you sobbed his name. That was the only thing that kept you from spiralling down in that corner of your mind. The one where she waited with her teeth bared for you to let the door wide open. He was your anchor right now and the only one standing between the two of you becoming one again. The minute he let go of you, you would land the key in the lock of her cell and let her out, letting her consume you. You knew if that happened right now there would be no way back from it this time.

“Please don’t leave me."

“I’m not leaving you.” He grabbed the sides of your face and made you look at him. “I am not leaving you, Miyu.”

He would say it as many times as it took for you to understand that he wasn't going to move an inch away from you unless you told him to. He wasn't going to let you lose yourself, not when he could help it.

You just sobbed harder upon hearing his words and he scooped you up from the cold ground, taking you back inside to the warmth of your room. He helped you get in bed before he himself got in next to you. You moved back into his arms and he cradled you close.

You sat like that for a while, letting it all out while he held you to him, whispering an occasional 'I'm here' or 'You're okay' to let you know he wasn't going anywhere.

"Miyu, I know now's not the time, but you need to talk to me. I want to help you but I don't know how until you tell me what's wrong."

He knew you weren't okay and suspected that it would come to this sooner or later. The sooner you told him what was wrong the closer he would get to knowing how to help you. He would wait for you as long as you needed but it had to be soon. Before you would slip away in the one place he didn't wish upon anyone.

His hands moved to rub your back and you took in a shaky breath preparing for the unavoidable. You lifted your head up from his chest and wiped some of your tears away. You kept him in the dark enough.

You told him everything. From what happened to your parents, detail by detail, to how you dreamt of it almost every night in vivid pictures as if it was happening again. From your life before you met Cho and your life after he left you, leaving out a few things that could ultimately get him kicked out of the guest room in his sleep, including the whole thing about the feelings involved.

You finally laid all the pieces of your broken soul on the table and watched nervously as he looked at each one with a mix of emotions you knew all too well. His jaw twitched with anger learning about the things you had to go through. His eyes reflected the same sadness you felt for years on end. His hands held yours the whole time and he felt the hurt washing over you like it was his own. But not once did his eyes show pity and that told you that you laid your heart out in good hands.

He seemed deep in thought after everything you told him and well, who wouldn't be. You expected him to be appalled at most of the things you told him and push you away. But he didn't. He welcomed the entirety of your past with open arms and it made the walls you've built up so high quiver.

There was still one thing you needed reassurance about and you gathered up all your courage to ask it.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course." He brushed a few stray hairs from your face to get a better look at you, frowning at your red and puffy eyes. "What is it?"

You swapped the hold of his hands so your smaller ones covered his, holding them tightly in your lap. They weren't as cold as they used to be when you met him, a whole lot warmer now than yours were. You looked down at them with an unfamiliar yearning. It felt like you held the whole world in your hands and it terrified you. You found solace in this world and you wanted to protect it like it protected you. No matter what it would take to keep it safe. To keep him safe.

"Whatever happens, be it in a mission or whatever situation, promise me we will stay together. We go in together and we get out of it together."

"I promise," he said without hesitating. He lifted a hand to your cheek cupping it softly. "I told you I would keep you safe as long as you're with me. I tend to keep my word, you know."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you felt another wave of tears coming. But this time, they weren't tears of pain or sorrow. They were tears of appreciation. He was so attentive and understanding while listening to everything you had to say that it overwhelmed you, in a good way.

"I know," you said sniffling away another sob. You played with his fingers counting the calluses on them to distract yourself. The fear that he would turn against you some day was still there and there was nothing you could do to quiet it down. But his words lowered it a bit.

"I really need to stop being a crybaby. You're probably tired of it."

"I could never get tired of you. Come here," he said opening his arms for you with the most genuine smile on his face.

You fell into them and pressed your head to his chest while he carded a hand through your hair to calm you down. His other hand rested on your back, lightly drawing patterns on it. He rocked you back and forth for a little while, until he felt you relax against him. Peeking an eye down at you, he saw you fast asleep. Your hand was fisting his shirt so tight as if the world will fall to pieces if you let go. It reminded him of that night after he took you to watch the sunset on the hill overlooking the village. He found you plopped on your bed, so tired that you didn't even change out of your clothes. You had the same adorable pout on your face now and it made him melt.

He held you for a while to make sure you were deep in sleep before deciding to let you rest. You looked like you really needed it after the day you had. Getting up as quiet as he could, he laid you down in bed, placing your head on your pillow gently. He covered you with the duvet and tried to move away, but your hand kept him in place, fist tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. He placed his hand on your fist, untangling it from his shirt to lace his fingers with yours instead. You turned to his side and cuddled around his hand pulling it closer to you. He knelt down beside your bed and just looked at you as he brushed your hair away from your face.

I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're not alone anymore, my light.

It must have been the early hours of the morning when Enishi left. You've been sound asleep for a few hours and he decided to go work on some things since he wasn't going to catch any sleep for himself.

Reaching his office he was met with the door creaked open. He narrowed his eyes on it thinking back to when he left for your room. He definitely shut it closed.

Someone who wasn't supposed to be inside was messing around judging by the clutter of swords to the ground. He pushed the door open only to see his unwanted guest playing around at the sword wall. His presence went unknown to the man who had his back at him as he just stood there watching him for a while until he got annoyed.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped snooping around."

The blonde man turned around surprised that he had company, dropping the sword he was holding on the ground. It clanged loudly on the floor and Enishi moved to the door to close it, releasing an exasperated sigh.

If he wakes her up I am turning him into paper tinsel.

"So the master of the house does speak."

"What are you doing here, Sword Hunter?"

"You know who I am?"

I just said your nickname, dumbass. He really does lack intelligence doesn't he?

You didn't tell him too much about Cho. But the more he looked at him he started remembering who he was. He's heard about him before but never got a chance to see him until now. Once you told him more he pieced the puzzle together rather quickly.

Cho ignored him and continued messing around until he picked up a sword he seemed rsther interested in. He unsheathed it, testing its balance in his hand.

"A wo-dao Chinese sword. I've never seen one before."

He swung it around and held it closer to his line of sight tracing his eyes along the silver blade.

"This is a great sword."

"It could hurt you. The balance is different than Japanese swords."

Enishi's patience was running thin. The last thing he wanted to confront at the ass crack of dawn was a sword freak. He debated knocking him out and dragging him back to bed but you probably wouldn't be too happy if you knew that happened.

"You seem sure of yourself."

And you're acting like a fucking idiot.

Cho racked through the stash and threw a different sword at Enishi, suggesting testing the blades in a duel. Enishi just stared him down taking in all the bandages that littered his body. He wouldn't mind adding some more on there. But you worked too hard patching him up to do that.

"I'm not gonna fight you," he retaliated, placing the sword on his desk.

I don't want her to wake up to that. She has enough on her plate already.

"Are you you scared you'll lose?" huffed Cho.

"I could kill you right now if I wanted to." He unsheathed the sword and chuckled darkly. The look in his eyes turned murderous and it was enough to make Cho's jaw tick. He was looking for a fight and Enishi struggled keeping himself away from giving him one. With a deep sigh he put it back in its hold and went to place it back to its place neatly.

"I'm only letting you stay because she wants you here for some fucked up reason. One wrong move and you're out of here in seconds."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong."

He put the sword he was holding on the table and looked Enishi dead in the eye.

"I'll stay as long as she wants me here," he said placing a hand on Enishi's shoulder tauntingly. "Not even you can convince her to let me go."

Morning couldn't come fast enough. You heard Enishi leave sometime in the early hours of the morning but you were too tired to register it and quickly fell back asleep. Before he left, you felt a feather like touch of what could only be his lips connecting to your temple and smiled in your sleep, hoping he noticed it.

Trudging to the bathroom you looked in the mirror and nearly screeched. Your eyes were the size of rice balls, the ginormous kind that Wu would stuff in his mouth for dinner, but with a slight touch of pink and bloodshot.

You didn't want to deal with the aftermath of yesterday at all. But you promised Enishi you would talk more things out, especially about the blondie residing in his guest room without a good explanation on why he was here other than the fact that he was hurt.

You hung your head low in shame gripping the edges of the sink. You brought a total stranger in the house that wasn't yours, got him comfortable and did not even have the courtesy of telling Enishi who the fuck he was or why he should even stay after everything.

I might be going off the rails sooner than I predicted.

Enishi had every right to be mad at you for every shitty choice you made in the last 24 hours. From going over his word multiple times and not staying in the house like he told you. For talking rudely to him at the ball for no particular reason other than what was probably jealousy. For bringing a total stranger into his house. To keeping him awake for most of the night with your own problems.

But he wasn't. On the contrary, he comforted you even after you put him through all of that. He took care of you again even after all you did was push him away. And fuck if you knew why he still did it.

I'm surprised he hasn't kicked me out yet.

But one thing did bug you. He did all that and you still weren't clear of what his intentions were or whether he felt the same for you because he hasn't said anything to seal the deal yet.

Did he even want to seal the deal? Or was it all a play again?

You did not want a rerun of what happened with Cho. You weren't sure of what exactly you felt for the blonde man but you knew it wasn't anything good. Besides, if you went through that again, especially with Enishi, it would crush you for good. You wondered when he would come clean and open up to you, hoping it would be sooner than later.

Until then, you had a breakfast to attend that had the potential to turn really messy. Both males were highly unpredictable and liked to act on impulse. If you managed to get through it without anyone getting their head ripped off their body it would be a miracle.

Lord give me strength to face the males you put on this earth.

Breakfast was going well so far, you would say. All three of you ate quietly, sparring looks at each other sheepishly. You all waited for someone to speak first and cut the tension wafting in the air.

You surely didn't want to be first as you didn't even know where to start. Start explaining some more things to Enishi and apologize for everything? Put a plate in Cho's hand and kick him out yourself? Complimenting the chef on the food? Wait this is leftovers I prepared yesterday.

You looked at Cho who was picking at the food in his plate like an ungrateful child. What could he even say? Introduce himself in a really Cho manner, jazz fingers and all, spew some lies about who he actually is and making himself more unwanted than he was at the moment? Highly likely. He didn't owe Enishi anything other than to return the clothes he borrowed.

Looking to Enishi, you didn't know what to expect. He would most likely start awkward conversation with "So what do you do?" and then expect you to elaborate whilst trying to keep Cho's mouth shut in case he decided to talk about things Enishi was better off not knowing. Or unsheathe one of his swords and turn this into a fight, considering the daggers he was throwing at him.

The possibilities were endless.

To your disappointment, Enishi did speak first and you braced for the joy that was about to become the breakfast table.

“So, how do you two know each other?”

Okay, an easy question that didn't need a complicated answer.

“We used to work together,” you said peeling a boiled egg for yourself trying to keep your composure.

Cho tapped your leg under the table asking you to peel one for him using the injured person card. He was holding the fork just fine so you just threw an eggshell at him.

“We did more than work,” said Cho, earning himself a kick under the table from you.

You narrowed your eyes at him silently telling him to watch it. He only smirked in return, enjoying that he could annoy you this much.

“It was just work,” you gritted, turning to look at Enishi. “We took out a few people in uh... team missions.”

“Oh, and how much fun we had doing it together,” chirped Cho, leaning his head on his palm.

And I thought I was off the rails. I forgot that he literally exists.

“You should’ve seen her back then. She was so ruthless and unforgiving."

Why was he suddenly acting like the president of the Miyu Hikari fanclub?

If the you from back then was sitting here now she would probably blush and feel giddy at the remark.

But your face fell at the mention of the person you used to be back then. She haunts you at night and you wished you could just forget everything about her.

Enishi saw the way you uncomfortably shifted in your seat and picked at the shell of your egg with a frown. Squinting dangerously at the blonde who seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much, he interfered.

“Actually, she appears to be doing pretty well now, I would say.” Your eyes snapped up to him, a small smile of acknowledgment on his lips directed at you. “She’s so much stronger now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Now that he knew about your past and how much it took to get to where you are now, he seemed to have a different level of admiration for you. He was still so trusting in your abilities and it was beyond your understanding how he could just sit there believing you could lift planet Earth if you wanted to. And he would totally support you.

But of course, Cho had to ruin the moment.

“If that’s true, then she should be able to actually take me down in a fight now without using tricks,” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

It was a little bet you always had going when you trained with him. Whoever pinned the other to the ground first would get bragging benefits for the day. Loser would also have to chip in with whatever the winner wanted. You smiled a little remembering all the times you won over him and he had to buy you a ginormous amount of sweets. You did use a few tricks to get him off guard like winking at him or blowing him a kiss and he fell for it every single time. He liked the attention and that was one of his biggest weaknesses.

The good times blurred the bad ones for a little moment of bittersweet melancholy. Maybe it wasn't all that bad that he was back.

“I’m not fighting you when you’re wrapped in bandages like a mummy,” you said, munching on a piece of bread.

“Then when I’m better!”

“You’re not staying here,” cut in Enishi.

Did he mean here as in the mansion or here as in near you? From the way he gripped his mug it could be both.

“But he’s injured,” you turned to him as did Cho, with a more dramatic expression akin to distorted puppy eyes. "Stop making that face. It's creeping me out."

Enishi got up and took your wrist pulling you to the side to discuss privately about your guest. He had a bad feeling about him ever since he caught him snooping around his office last night. His mere existence pissed him off and it was slowly becoming a problem.

“I don’t want him here more than he should be staying here.”

“And he won’t be here longer than it takes to heal his wounds,” you prodded. “Let him stay for at least a week.”

A week would give you time to sort some stuff out with both of them and send Cho away with a clean conscience that he was healed and hopefully in one piece.

“A week?! Two days max."

“Five days!”

“Three days.”

“Four,” you begged, hands held together in a prayer. “You won’t even know he’s here.”

His tongue poked his cheek as he thought your proposal over. He didn't have anything to lose but the guy made him really suspicious. The way he looked and talked to you infuriated him beyond normal. He didn't understand why you were so keen on him staying here. But he would yield in, for now.

“Okay,” he sighed defeatedly. "But one wrong move or word and he's gone."

“Thank you, Enishi!"

You got a bit too excited and without a second thought you leaned up and kissed his cheek. Your brain short-circuited when you processed your lips touching his soft cheek. Both of you got surprised by your gesture, eyes widened in shock as you pulled away. The slightest tint of a blush was painted on your cheeks.

“I’ll uh… go do the dishes.”

What the hell was I thinking?!

You started backing away shyly before your heart could implode. Rushing your steps you nearly knocked down a chair as you hastily ran inside.

“Do you need help-“

“IM GOOD!”

He touched his cheek feeling the spot where your lips were pressed in a peck just a few moments ago and shook his head at you with a smile. You were truly something else. But the minute his eyes laid on the unwanted guest munching away at the food on the table like a gorilla, his smile fell.

I’m doing this for her. I need to show her that I can interact with other people without wanting to skewer them alive.

He went to sit back down at the table. He wanted to at least finish his tea before looking for excuses to leave.

“It’s so nice to have company after being solo for so long.”

“Mhm. I bet.”

“You’re not much of talker are you?”

“Nope.” I am but not with people like you.

“I’m sure you’ll warm up to me soon.”

“Surely," he smiled. I’d rather go sit with Wu for a week than spend one more minute with you.

“Enishi!” You called out to him from the kitchen. Ah, thank god.

“Coming!” he sat up from the table quick as lightning and dashed inside to you. “What do you need?”

“Can you fold my sleeves so I won’t get them wet?” You didn’t even finish and he was already doing your sleeves all the way up above your elbows. “Thank you!”

“No problem."

He looked at the pile of dishes you started washing, hoping you would ask him to help. Anything to stay in here with you than go outside to that creature.

"Is there anything else I can help with?”

“You could ask Cho if he wants anything else.”

His hopes were shattered the second his name cane oit of your mouth. He looked at you as if you asked him to bring you a bear or something. His eyes were pleading to stay with you in the kitchen but all you saw was a look that was weirding you out.

“Or you could wipe these dry," you suggested pointing to the dishes that needed to be taken off the drying rack so you could put the others instead.

Okay, that I can do.

“Gladly," he smiled.

You shook your head, giggling at his antics. You could tell he wasn't that fond of blondie. Cho's presence bugged you at first too but he grew on you over time. He was still the same idiot putting himself in danger recklessly but most times you were there to get him out of it.

Whatever you saw in him back then was pure and underneath all that mischief there was a boy who just didn't know what to do with his life. You understood him more than he understood you and you couldn't help but empathise with him.

"He's not that bad, you know," you said washing one of the bigger plates. You handed it to Enishi and watched him wipe it dry on all corners. Clean freak, you thought smiling.

"I'll believe it when I see it. All he's done so far is eat and sleep for free," he picked up another dish, "and make you uncomfortable after you literally saved and took care of him."

He had a point. But then again that was what you were doing too. Enishi took you in and cared for you like you were one of his own and all you did lately was abuse that. And it made you feel bad no matter how much he told you everything was okay and that he wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

"He's the only person I had for a while. As much as we didn't part on good terms I owe him a little."

Enishi wasn't stupid. He could tell there was something more between the two of you, besides slaying people for money together. He just wasn't sure if that something died three years ago, but he knew that feelings don't go away so easily. No matter how hard you try to make them disappear.

Living with not one but two copies of the male species was interesting to say the least. It's been only one day of cohabitating together and there was already a growing tension between the two.

Enishi didn't really acknowledge Cho's existence unless you mentioned him in conversation. Cho tried to annoy him on occasions where he let his guard down around you but most of the times it didn't work in his favour and he ended up being ignored.

However, the macho vibes were very strong as you were training today. Cho looked up to joining in with you and you let him despite Enishi's silent protests. You wished you listened to them.

Stretching your bodies before practice turned into a muscle flexing competition. Cho rolled his sleeves above his elbows and unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel, while Enishi took off his kimono to be left only in his tank top.

You gulped at the sight, eyes darting from one man to the other. Cho's veiny hands caught your attention first. Then your eyes moved from his collar bone all the way down to the outline of his abs that were peeking from under his shirt. You've seen them in passing when you patched him up. But seeing them in broad daylight was a totally different story. They looked so defined and sculpted. You unconsciously licked your lips at the sight, wondering how it would feel to take your time counting the squares one by one.

Your eyes then settled on Enishi and your breath hitched. His muscly biceps were already glistening with sweat from just stretching, but it was enough to make you want to chomp down on them. You've seen them so many times before but they made your mouth water every time. One flex of it and you would be on the floor seeking medical assistance.

You didn't even realise they were looking at you until you heard Cho's high pitched laughing. Enishi seemed quite amused by your reaction too, chuckling to himself. They caught you full on staring at their goodies with no shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the embarrassment.

Cho walked to you and you planted your feet to the floor trying to get back to your serious face. He stopped just a patch of grass away from you but it was enough to make you breathless. His abs were right in front of you, an elbow away.

"Better wipe the drool on your lips, princess," he said as he wiped it from your lips with his thumb.

This fucker. Wait until I wipe my fist on your lips.

"Fuck off," you pushed him away and got back to stretching with your back to them.

All was well until sword practice turned into a contest of the fittest. You were getting back to grips with your jian sword trying to remember the basic moves Enishi taught you. But the two men in front of you were deep in focus with their own longer katanas, practicing deep slashes coupled with some aerial moves. Looking at them sitting side by side, you noticed their styles were awfully similar, the only difference being that Enishi was faster and made use of his surroundings, while Cho was slower and used more tricks to slow down his opponent. Both of them appeared to be in their own element and it was a sight to behold.

Sparring wise you were kind of tossed to the side. They were too busy staring daggers at one another to notice you were there to learn stuff too. One rude insult from Cho and a twitch of Enishi's jaw later they took it upon themselves to duel.

Stepping backwards to give them more space you watched as they lunged at each other. Their eyes turned dark as their blades clashed, all semblance of humanity gone from both of them. Enishi was back in his unyielding form, forcing his attacks like a wild beast pouncing on his prey. Cho was actively trying to piss him off with tricks, sneering viciously the more he dodged Enishi's blade and pushed his buttons.

After some push and pull, combined with some cussing, the two broke apart with heaving breaths. They swirled their swords around to stretch their wrists as they continued circling each other.

"Quit playing around and fight for real," gritted Enishi.

"I am fighting for real," grunted Cho. "I think it's you who's holding back."

"I'm only holding back so I don't accidentally kill you."

"Why don't you do it then?"

He chuckled. For a brief moment his eyes locked with yours and he got some of his rationale back. He wasn't a fool. He could see right through his intentions.

"You want me to lose it and make myself look bad in front of her, don't you?"

Cho stopped moving around and played around with his blade. He got caught in the act and the look on his face gave it away too easily.

Enishi swung at him and he jumped over the slash that could've cut him in half. He spun trying to get Enishi off balance and tried cutting him back but Enishi was too fast and he could only dodge left and right.

Cho started getting sloppy. He swayed on his feet due to the gash in his leg that didn't heal properly yet. He knew he wasn't supposed to be out here but his pride got the best of him. He wanted to see what Enishi was made of and it was quite clear that he was a strong opponent.

Enishi noticed he was getting slower and used that to his advantage, combining moves that only pushed him to the edge. He wanted him to give it up and accept defeat.

Cho was forced to defend himself when Enishi's sword came down from above, blades meeting again with much more force than before. Both of them pushed with as much strength as they could to throw the other one off.

"If you're that sure of yourself, why don't we take a bet?" proposed Cho in a ploy to get Enishi to retreat.

"Oh yeah? What's in it for me?"

Cho turned his head to you and Enishi followed his gaze as they both lowered their blades. You were sitting on the ground staring up at the sky. You looked so at peace for once in a while that it calmed him down too, adrenaline from the moment drawing back into him. Cho was just as entranced by you.

"Let's see which one of us she actually wants. We both have a week to figure her out. If it's you she wants I'll be out of both of your lives in a heartbeat."

The offer was tempting. Enishi believed he had the upper hand here. He saw the way you looked at him and he wasn't entirely blind to your feelings, even if he himself was confused with his. You also had a connection between you that was hard to tear down, as much as blondie tried to interfere. If all these things played out in his favour, he could fly out the door sooner than the agreed timeline. It was a win-win situation.

But there was the possibility of him being wrong. There was a chance you still felt something for Cho and those feelings could just be waiting for him to do something to try and get you back. What if they would grow back stronger the more time you spent around him?

As much as he wanted to believe things could play out in his favour, the situation said otherwise.

Although, he was sure of one thing. That he was willing to bet everything to keep you with him. No matter what.

"But if she wants me-," Cho continued only to get cut off harshly.

"I won't let that happen," thundered Enishi.

He was more sure of himself than he's ever been before, especially because this involved you. He would stop at nothing to win you over.

"Bring it on."

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome :)

#Addicting Taste #enishi yukishiro #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #rurouni kenshin #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #i truly hope you don't hate me after reading it

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skinnyazn · 9 months

Text

Contact

Takes place before: In the Bleak Midwinter

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 4/4 Notes: Good LORDT she's done, idk why this mini-series was so hard to write but I'm happy with this last chapter, Jag and Ghost just needed to eye fuck and set their differences aside, sry if there's errors I'm editing and posting late, anywayyyyy, DOWN BOY,

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Why the hell wasn’t I told about the change in mission?” You burst into Price’s office, straight off the plane.

The older man looked up from his desk, the edge of his black watchman’s hat concealing a cocked brow.

“It was need—”

“Need to know, yeah I got that much,” you finished for him. “So why the hell wasn’t I need to know?”

Price leaned back in his seat, dropping his pen and folding his hands over his stomach. You continued through his silence.

“Why did you have Laswell hire me?”

“Because we needed help with intel,” he begrudged.

“Right, right. So then when the person you hire for intel gives you a solid lead, is it standard for the 141 to ignore said lead and go after a glaringly obvious dead end?”

Price exhaled loudly.

“And to top if off, you don’t even notify me. Instead, you wait until thirty minutes before we land to have your fucking smug lieutenant tell me.”

“Simon was just following my orders.”

You stood in front of the man, hands on your hips, forcing yourself to breathe slower.

“Do you still need my help with landing the target?” you asked once you reclaimed some semblance of calm.

Price stared at you with hard eyes; his wrinkles around the edges crinkled slightly.

“Yes.”

“Then keep your dog on a fucking leash, Price. And you tell me the next time the mission perimeters change.”

The older man’s brows furrowed as his jaw shifted. You didn’t bother to stay as you made your way straight to your room; you needed to decompress before you said more shit you’d probably regret.

____

It didn’t surprise you when Laswell called shortly after your confrontation with Price. You pulled the phone from your pocket and answered.

“Heard about the mission,” she spoke passively.

“Did you know?” You asked, stretching out on the floor of your room. You hadn’t bothered to unpack from the mission because quite frankly you were debating if you were going to stay. It was a bit dramatic, sure, but you were still livid at the botched operation and complete disregard for your expertise, not to mention the weeks of work you had already put in.

“Not until after you had arrived,” you could hear Laswell multitasking in the background. “I was sleeping, after all.”

That brought a chuckle out of you. “Glad to hear someone around here takes my advice.”

“Oh don’t give yourself too much credit—sleep and rest are two very different things.”

“Mmhmm.”

There was a comfortable silence.

“Heard about the incident with Price as well.”

“Figured you would.”

“It was out of line.”

“So was changing mission parameters last minute and not telling me.”

Laswell sighed into the phone.

“You’re still working for the man. Those boys are his pride and joy. Can’t speak about them like that.”

You sat up, leaning your back against the single-framed bed in the room.

“I don’t like sloppy jobs, Laswell. What’s the point in hiring me if you’re not even going to follow the leads I find?”

She simply hummed on the other end of the line. You continued.

“Well, I hope Soap and Gaz got something from of their assignment. We’re having a briefing once they get in this afternoon,” you looked at a dark spot on the floor. It looked like a slightly mutilated bear.

“You and me both. We need this bastard before November’s over.”

You nodded. “We’ll get him.”

“See that you do.”

The call disconnected as you continued to stare at the floor. Maybe it was a was a beaver instead.

____

By the time the afternoon rolled around, you were sitting on the couch in the rec room, nursing a beer. There wasn’t much to do until Kyle and Johnny returned anyway. Simon made himself sparse the entire morning, undoubtedly brooding somewhere. The irritation toward him that had been stewing for the past four days was finally settling a bit—the beer and your vent with Price helped.

“Oh my fucking days,” it was Johnny’s voice that livened the quiet room. You looked up at the Scot as he walked in; the poor man looked drained. Kyle stumbled behind him.

“Hey Johnny, Kyle.” The couch sagged under their weight as they flopped down, still fully geared. You pulled your knees up.

“Never thought I’d be this happy to be back at base,” Kyle sighed, closing his eyes.

Johnny’s head was lulled against the back of the sofa. He glanced at the beer in your hand. “Glad that one of us gets to relax while we do all the hard work.”

“Johnny—” you warned but he waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the reason you and Ghost are back already. Heard it from Price earlier.” Johnny looked around the room. “Where’s the big bad dog anyway?”

You took another sip of beer before setting it down on the table; word travels fast in the 141. A flush of warmth heated to your cheeks. Maybe you should speak to the lieutenant after the meeting…

“Simon’s in the briefing room already.” Price had walked in, standing by the door with his arms crossed. Kyle and Johnny looked at their superior. “Best if we join him.”

Kyle groaned. “C’mon, Cap, two more seconds. We just sat down.”

“On your feet,” was all he responded before walking back the way he came.

The three of you stood, following after the man.

A part of you was thankful the meeting was starting early. It meant you could finally get some clarity on the situation and hopefully some good news about operation with the family. You sat down next to Kyle.

“Report, Sergeant,” Ghost said from the front of the room. He was leaning against the wall, refusing to meet your stare.

“Right, so ah know things got a wee muddled with Omarov, but Gaz the Lad worked his charm with the target’s sister,” Soap started off, punching the younger man in the arm. Gaz entertained it, Ghost rolled his eyes, and Price let out a long exhale. You felt sorry for the older man—he’d had a day.

While Johnny went over the details of their operation and its small successes, you watched Simon. His initial cockiness from your mission had quickly dissipated after the house in Kostanay turned up empty, and it was completely extinguished by the time you boarded the plane this morning, four days later. Mission unsuccessful. The Brit’s attitude on the aircraft was the quintessential definition of brooding. He’d made eye contact with you a few times as the hours ticked by, but neither of you had broken the silence. You were just disappointed, mostly. Nothing had gone according to the plan that you thought you had set with the alleged legendary task force. A lesson somewhere in there about setting expectations.

In the present, Soap continued on about a connection in Kokshetau, Kazakhstan. It helped narrow down the the scope considerably, but still left a lot of possible places for the target to be hiding.

“What about Alekskeev?” Kyle asked. He was quickly becoming your favorite task member.

“Got the tip off as well,” Price responded, looking at you this time. You didn’t rub it in—just held a softened gaze with the man. “But our inside contact found some good intel where he was staying. The Russian packed up in a hurry and was sloppy.”

“One of those leads is a small supply run to a remote area outside of Kokshetau as well,” Ghost followed, his rough voice commanding. You looked at those brown eyes behind the mask, but they still refused to meet yours. “This could be it.”

By the time the meeting came to its close, you were mostly mollified. It was frustrating as hell knowing Alekskeev held the answers and got away, but at least the task force was back on the trail; not all was lost.

“Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll hone in on the location of our target. Dismissed,” Simon spoke. You began to stand up from your seat. “Not you.”

You looked at Simon, sitting back down slowly. He waited until everyone left before walking—no, stalking—to the front of your desk. The brute placed both his massive, gloved hands flat against the surface. His forearms were exposed again, showing off their vascularity. Your pulse quickened as he leaned closer, looming. You remembered to close your mouth as you looked up at him.

“Let’s get one thing clear: you ‘ave a problem with me, you say it to my face,” it came out low and venomous.

“I did.”

His jaw shifted underneath the mask. “What’s this about leashes then? Think I’m a fuckin’ dog?”

You could feel heat radiate from his body this close—it took all your strength not to shiver.

“When you act like one.”

His grip tightened on the desk.

“So what does that make you? The master or the fucking bone?” There was a fire blazing in those warm eyes now.

But your gaze back was defiant. Leaning in close to Simon—mouth nearly against the fabric covering his ear—you spoke.

“Be a good boy and you might just find out.”

A heartbeat passed and you watched his massive frame stiffen, before you pulled back slightly. The fire in his eyes changed into something else—something you couldn’t name as his eyes flicked between yours. Blonde lashes lowered as his gaze dipped to your lips, to the pulse hammering in your neck, then back to your eyes. Not for the first time, you wanted to know what he looked like under the mask—what his hair was like, if he had scars, if he was handsome or battered. If he would want you all the same. Neither of you moved.

A noise in the hallway broke the trance, and you pulled back. You remembered to breathe again and so did he.

“Dismissed,” Simon finally spoke, somewhere between a growl and a murmur, but void of all the roughness from seconds ago.

Your face softened as you rose, breathing in his scent while you lingered this close. He remained in place as you walked to the door.

_____ It was a subtle shift, but that moment had created a new axis to which everything you and Simon newly revolved. From the way he now held your stares, to how he’d relax his massive thighs against yours in meetings so that they barely touched, to the accidental run-ins in the hallways. You weren’t sure if the other team members noticed, but as the weeks went by, whatever it was between the two of you had grown to something less subtle.

“She needs a callsign, Ghost,” Soap said as he lounged on the couch, his boots rested on the coffee table. You stared at the tan man.

“Why do I need a callsign?”

“Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.” He took a sip of his beer. Gaz cursed softly under his breath as he struck a billiards ball in the background.

“Why can’t I be Barbie?” You shifted your body toward Soap, crossing your arms.

“Cause you’re not blonde,” he replied as if it was obvious. “Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.”

Simon looked up from the paperwork he was reading in his hand, eyes looking somewhat annoyed behind his black balaclava.

“Fine. Then what’s my callsign?” Tilting your head, you quirked an eyebrow.

“Mantis,” Gaz chimed in from across the room. You pondered it.

“Nah, doesn’t fit her,” Simon spoke, still focused on the papers. His voice sent a warmth through your body.

“Jaguar?” You dragged your attention back to Soap as he gave the suggestion. It actually wasn’t half bad for a name. He grinned. “…You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.”

“A smooth ride?” you grinned back. It was fun watching the red creep up the Scotsman’s neck.

“Dangerous.” The papers were now resting on Simon’s lap as he leaned back in his chair, thighs spread a little. You struggled to compose yourself when he looked at you like that—want and possessiveness hidden behind half lidded eyes. Even Gaz took a pause to observe the very blatant eye fucking happening.

“Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is,” Soap continued, taking another sip of his beer at an attempt to cool the flushing of his cheeks. You grinned.

Outside, a light snow was beginning to fall in the darkness of night. There were only three more days before the team would ship out to Kokshetau. It seemed like Laswell might finally get her wish after all.

____ Big thanks to everyone who read through this! I love and appreciate you all <;3 Tags: @deadbranch @dotcie @prosopagnosis @solidly-indulgent

#my fic #my fics #cod fic #cod ghost #simon ghost Riley x you #simon ghost Riley x reader #simon ghost Riley fic #simon ghost Riley x female reader #ghost fic #ghost x jaguar #ghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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avelera · 1 year

Note

Hob “I’d die for you (because death is the worst thing he can think of)” Gadling vs Dream “I’d live for you (because living is the worst thing he can think of)” of the Endless.

It’s not quite right but my brain isn’t giving me anything else

I think I see where you're going with this, but if I may do a certain flavor of "Yes, and!" and not dismiss this statement as such but dwell on it a moment, because I firmly disagree about Hob.

Gonna put this under a cut cuz we're gonna be dealing with some suicide ideation here:

Because here's the thing, I don't think Hob would die for anyone. Absolutely anyone. He didn't give up on life after his own child died. And here's the thing, I think that makes him very good for Dream.

I don't think Dream should be with someone who would die for him. The reason for that is, I think Dream sees the world in stories, for very understandable reasons, and a loved one dying for him gives him permission to die. I genuinely think he sees his check ins on Hob as seeing if he, Dream, has permission to die yet. If a man who loves life this much gives up on life, doesn't that mean Dream is allowed to? Doesn't that mean there's truly nothing the bleakness of the world won't crush, so the only sane thing to do is leave it, if it can make someone like Hob want to die?

So it is so, so important that Hob never gives that inch. That even if it meant saving Dream's life, in theory, he wouldn't die for him. Because someone like Dream could twist that moment, that story into a justification to die, or to die for Hob. Hob can't give him that inch.

If Hob jumped in front of a speeding car to save Dream, or anyone, he would do so on the certain understanding that it was only because he knew he'd survive. If he thought he'd die, he wouldn't do it, because it'd probably just get them both killed and yeah he'd feel rotten about it but he has lived with far, far worse things on his conscience.

Now, Dream choosing to live because it's awful? That's very interesting. Very interesting indeed. Because that's the sort of shit you can trick Dream with, that Dream can trick his own suicidal brain with, to keep living.

Dream lives in stories. He's a romantic. He would suffer any horror for someone he loved.

Well, Hob would challenge him, will you live for me?

And Dream might balk. It might force him to confront that when he said he'd do anything for love, he wasn't sure he meant that. Which might make him realize there is a limit. That maybe there are things one shouldn't do for love (stay in terrible relationships, for example).

Ok, but if he balks, that means there's a limit, that means he's not a perfect romantic lover. That means he's not just a story. He's a person with limits.

Ok, Hob might challenge him then, but will you live for me? Not because you're a story, but because you're a person, and I want you to live, and I want to be alive together with you. Will you do the worst thing, hardest thing possible for you, and live?

Or, maybe Dream will continue to dress it up in being a romantic hero when Hob asks him to do the most difficult thing, pursue the most difficult quest, weather the most difficult storm, which is live.

And maybe, because these things are not accomplished overnight, because maybe seeing himself as a story was a coping mechanism for Dream that is now hurting him but at one point helped him get through difficult times. Maybe, Dream starts the journey towards wanting to live again on the premise that he is a story and he is in love, and Hob asked him to do the most difficult thing, so he must. And gradually, over time, he finds he does want to live. And the thoughts of death aren't there as often. And the weariness towards the world begins to lift and Hob is waiting there, ready to keep living with him.

#dreamling #sandman meta #this got away from me #cw for discussions of suicide ideation

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thevelria · 1 year

Text

The day I met you (Future Trunks x Reader)

Author's note: This story contains swearing and some soft lemon. Because I think Future Trunks would be a softy in the bed anyway ;)

When did this madness start? I didn’t even remember anymore, all the pain, fear, bleakness washed the memories away. Dead bodies everywhere on the street, buildings still on fire or totally ruined to the ground.

I was trying to make my way to a safe place I heard of the other day. That was my only goal at that moment, reaching a place where a saiyan was hidden as well. I might have a tiny bit of a chance to survive, if he would have been around.

-Where in the hell do I have to turn left? -I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to remember what the man said to me, while explaining the direction -This corner, I suppose -I took a deep breath, but regretted my decision in an instant.

Seeing Black fighting with a lavender hair colored man frightened me to death.

-Wrong corner, wrong corner! -I panicked, trying to stay invisible. But Black spotted me easily, smirking at me with that disgusting devilish smile on his face. I couldn’t understand how such a good looking man could be such a freaking prick.

-Shit! Shit! Holy shit! -my eyes popped wide open as I made eye contact with the villain- Okay, that’s it. I’m going to die now on this filthy street, no one ever will remember me -thoughts rushing through my mind rapidly.

-Watch out! -I’ve heard someone yelling, grabbing me by my waist, flying me up high in the sky just the second before a huge blast slammed into the spot I’ve been standing a blink before.

-Oh my God! -I grabbed the man's hand hard, digging my nails into his skin, drops of blood forming and starting to run down on his arm.

-Auch! -he hissed out loud.

-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry -softened my grip, looking still shocked- Please don’t let me fall! -I closed my eyes, my whole body shaking in fear.

-Don’t worry, I hold you still -he murmured in my ears. His warm breath slightly caressed my skin.

After a few minutes, at least it felt like it, we landed. His arm slowly was pulled back from around my waist and even if I felt the solid ground under my feet I still kept my eyes closed.

-You can open your eyes now -he giggled- You are safe.

-Oh, yeah, sure -I carefully opened them, blinking a few times to make my sight clear.

-I’m Trunks -he held his hand to me, smiling.

-I’m Y/N -I stared at him, while accepting the offered hand. His figure mesmerized me immediately, his beautiful blue eyes, the lavender hair, that handsome face and perfectly toned body. I felt blush rushing through my face, so I turned away in an instant.

Trunks smirked as he noticed how I reacted from seeing him.

-Come inside! -he said- You’ll be safe here.

-Thank you -I looked at him again- For everything -I sighed deeply- I would be dead by now, if you didn’t save me from that maniac.

-And that would be a shame. You are too beautiful to be dead -he winked at me and chuckled as he saw me blushing from head to toe one more time.

***

6 months later:

I got used to the safe place and tried my best to be a useful member of the community. Since I was a nurse before it all started I mostly handled the injured soldiers, who were lucky enough to come back alive after a fight with Black.

-Oh my God, Trunks! -I screamed as I saw the saiyan badly bleeding from several wounds all around his body. His face was covered with cuts and bruises, his bottom lip was ripped, just as his right eyebrow -Let me help you! -I ran to him, spinning my hand around his back to give him the opportunity to lean on my shoulder.

Mai appeared in front of us and pushed me away immediately.

-Help the others! -she hissed at me- I will handle him myself.

She never really liked me, because she was madly in love with the saiyan and hated the fact that Trunks didn’t feel the way she wanted him.

-Don’t be rude to her! -Trunks gritted between his teeth, he hated the way Mai treated me and had an argument with her every single time. Now, on the other hand he was too injured to be able to stand up for me. At least I thought so.

-It’s okay -I smiled at Trunks- I will help the others -I spun on my heels, about heading to the opposite way.

-No! -Trunks shrugged Mai’s hand off of him- She will be the one, who’s going to help them -he said with a cold tone, strictly.

-Fuck you, Trunks! -Mai’s eyes widened, clenching her jaw and storming away.

-Sorry, it’s going to be uncomfortable -I poured some alcohol on a cotton ball, pressing it gently against the cut on his lip.

-Uhh… -he hissed.

-I’m trying to be as gentle as possible -I smiled awkwardly.

-I know -he put his big hand on mine, squeezing it softly.

After I took care of all of his wounds, bandaged them well, I was standing in front of him, staring blankly.

-What’s wrong? -he wrinkled his forehead, sitting on a chair.

-This eats me up alive -I sighed deeply.

-What do you mean?

-I don’t know how much longer I can do this…Being terrified every single time you go out there to fight that bastard. The single thought of you not coming back frightens me to death -I clenched my jaw.

-Hey…hey come here -he held out his hands, grabbing mine, pulling me into his lap- Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. Goku and Vegeta must arrive soon, they will help us to end this madness. And then we will be able to live a normal life. I will be able to take you on a proper date as well -he smiled at me, blushing slightly.

-You promise? -I caressed his face gently.

-I promise -he rested his cheek on my palm.

***

-Deal? -Mai asked Black with a devilish smile on her face.

-Hmm…I will consider your request, however tell me one reason not to kill you right here, right now.

-Because if you kill Y/N as I asked you, I will lead you to the biggest safe place we have in the town. And you can finish more than 200 people at once. I think it’s totally worth it.

-Well, alright mortal. But if you try to trick me… -he smirked at Mai- Death will be the most wonderful thing you will desire.

-Don’t worry, I’ll keep my words, just vanish that freaking bitch out from this world.

-Why do you hate her that much? -Black raised an eyebrow, trying to understand the situation more.

-She…she is just an annoying brat -Mai clenched her jaw- All was perfect til she showed up one day and ruined everything between me and… -she stopped mid sentence.

-Oh… -Black laughed out loud arrogantly- It’s about some kind of meaningless human feelings? You mortals really deserve to be exterminated.

-Whatever -Mai shrugged her shoulders, heading back to the safe place.

-Y/N! -Mai ran to me in panic, totally freaked out-Y/N, you need to come with me. It’s Trunks! He got into a fight with Black and he’s barely alive. You are the best nurse here, you need to come and save him -lies were spluttering from her mouth.

-Oh my God! -my eyes widened, as my heart was about to jump out of my body.

You can call me naive, but I would have never thought she could be this mean. Lying about Trunks being in danger, knowing I would never refuse to help him.

The way she tried to hide her smile made me suspicious. I started to think she might have tricked me, but I had no idea how.

-Where is he exactly? -I asked following Mai into a questionable area.

-This way! Here…hurry! -she kept mumbling- We are almost there.

-But it’s not the place Trunks told me he was heading to before he left the safe place -I stopped walking, folding my arms in front of my chest.

-So what? -Mai was getting impatient- They fought around and they ended up here. Don’t you want to help him or what?

-No, of course I will -shaking my head slightly, following her again.

-There we are -she smiled widely, spotting Black at the top of a building.

-What the fuck? -I looked terrified- Mai?!

But she didn’t answer me, while walking in the direction of Black, who landed on the ground in the meantime.

-You bitch! -I yelled- You fooled me! I’m so going to kill you for that -my eyes were burning in fury.

-Well, good luck with that -she pushed her long black hair behind- It will be difficult, though…since you will be dead in a few minutes -she laughed maniacally.

I gulped hard, thoughts were running through my mind, trying to find a solution which could have saved me from this fucked up situation. Mai was chatting with Black, smiling at him, pointing in the direction of the safe place.

-No way, she’s giving up everything -I hissed, fisting my hands in anger- What the fuck is wrong with this stupid bitch?

-Alright! -I heard Black low voice- I keep my word and kill that meaningless mortal for you.

I froze and stood still. Running away? Hiding somewhere? But where? I sighed and took a deep breath through my nose, thinking of Trunks. I wanted him to be my last thought before I was seemingly going to die within seconds.

Black didn’t use any blast or energy ball, he landed in front of me and grabbed me by my neck, pulling me up in the air, my legs waving in panic as I kept hitting his fist around my throat.

-Please… -I tried to form words, feeling the air slowly disappearing from my body.

-Such a weak, useless body this is -he tilted his head slightly, examining my look as I was fighting for my life.

-Let her go! You fucking bastard! -I’ve heard Trunk’s voice behind.

-What? -Black hissed, dropping me to the ground hard. As I gasped for air, massaging my neck I looked back above my shoulder, seeing Trunks in his fighting stance, holding his sword tight.

-Bitch, you lied to me! -he looked Mai in the eye, who now became more terrified than me.

Trunks and Black started to fight, giving in everything, flying up high in the sky. Punches here and there, cuts and bleeding bruises started to cover them both up. When finally Trunks had the chance to cut into Black’s chest deep and hard. The villain screamed in agony, trying to land at the top of a building.

Mai in the meantime was about to escape, running away, hiding from Black, because she knew exactly that the man wouldn’t believe her. He was going to think she was the one who let the saiyan know his whereabouts. And that was exactly what happened.

-Stop running, you sneaky little brat! -Black shouted, blinded by anger- You really thought you could have tricked me -sending a huge blast in the direction of Mai, which killed her instantly.

Trunks used the situation to land next to me, grabbing me hard by my waist, flying away immediately. He didn’t even look back.

-Trunks…I think Mai told Black where the safe place was -I tried to collect myself.

-WHAT? -he yelled- I’ve heard them talking about a deal. If Black kills me, she tells him where the safe place is. But I didn't hear her say it out loud exactly.

-I don’t know… -I started to cry, the whole situation was so freaking overwhelming I couldn’t control myself.

As we landed in front of the place, Trunks blinked quickly, trying to figure out what to do.

-I wounded him pretty badly -he finally sighed- He will need some time to recover. One or two days maybe. Let’s go inside, we will find out something.

-Alright -I nodded- I will need to take care of your wounds, he harmed you pretty well, too.

Trunks didn’t say a thing, but let me guide him into one of the nursing rooms.

-I still can’t believe Mai was able to do this -he shook his head in disbelief.

-She loved you, Trunks -I pressed my lips together as I was taking care of his cuts on his chest. His shirt was torn apart, revealing his muscled torso.

-That doesn’t mean she had the right to try taking away from me the woman I love -he said, slowly looking up into my eyes.

As I didn’t say a thing, he grabbed my waist slowly, pulling me into his lap, resting his face on my chest.

-Trunks… -I took a deep breath, running my fingers through his silky, lavender hair.

He stood up, pushing me gently against the table and pressed his lips against mine passionately. We have never ever shared a kiss before, hence I was craving it from the first time I saw him. I kissed him back, throwing my hands around his neck as the kiss was deepend.

-I was waiting for this moment for so long -he smiled into the kiss, breaking it afterwards.

-So I was not the only one craving it? -I smirked at him, which made him smile devilishly.

When he started to unbutton my shirt I felt the tension rushing through my body, I wanted him so bad. I grabbed the bottom of his jacket, which he pulled down immediately, tossing it away. After I looked at his already torn shirt, which he ripped off of him with one move, sliding it aside.

-Damn…you are so hot -I bit my lower lip, staring at his abs, at his perfectly muscled torso.

Trunks didn’t say a word, licking his upper lip, while eagerly unzipping my jeans. Pushing it down, guiding me to step out of it and leaving me standing in front of him, only wearing my underwear.

-Fuck… -I moaned as he stepped closer, massaging my breast with one hand, grabbing my ass with his other hand, licking my neck with passion.

I felt his hand wandering down from my breast through my body until he reached my penties.

-Can I? -he looked me in the eye. I gulped as I nodded yes slightly.

-Oh, Trunks -I threw my head back, when his finger slipped in my pussy. Moving the tip of his index finger on my clit made me wild.

I eagerly grabbed the buckle of his belt, trying to free him from his trousers. He smirked at me, while pulling me into a passionate kiss, still moving his finger in my now wet pussy.

-Damn…- he growled, breaking the kiss as I started to rub his bulge through his boxers. I felt he was already hard, ready to take me anytime. His eyes widened, when I slid my hand into his underwear, gently pressing my palm against his hardened shaft

-Y/N -he murmured- you drive me crazy. I won’t be able to control myself -he breathed heavily under my touch.

-Then don’t… -I whispered, which made him wild, pushing his boxers down, grabbing my penties, ripping it off, turning me around, so my back faced him.

-Oh my God, Trunks… -I moaned out loud as I felt his huge cock entering me.

-You are so tight -he growled as started to thrust me gently with a decent speed.

When he slid one of his hands down to my pussy, slipping a finger in, I lost my control. I pushed my hip backwards.

-Fuck… -I panted- fuck me hard, Trunks! Please! -I begged and he obeyed.

Speeding up, pounding me faster and faster from behind. The tension he made me feel sent shivers down my spine, I felt my climax could burst out in any minute.

-Don’t stop -I whined- Please, don’t stop, I’m so close -I grabbed the edge of the table hard.

-Come for me, darling -he murmured into my ear.

He kept kissing my neck, while I was riding out my orgasm under him. When I finished he immediately pulled out. Turned me to face him, pushing me down on my knees. He didn’t have to ask anything, I automatically started to stroke him, massaging his balls gently.

-Yes…right there! -he threw his head back- Fuck, I’m almost there -he hissed, releasing his hot semen on my breast. I stroked him twice more, before I stood up smiling, trying to find something I could clean my chest with.

-Sorry! -he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

-It’s okay -I smiled, wiping the cum off with a towel.

-Trunks -I looked at him seriously, while getting dressed.

-Yes, Y/N?

-Will we survive? -I took a deep breath.

-I’m going to kill Black and I will take you on that date, I promise -he pulled me into one more passionate kiss.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #trunks x y/n #trunks x reader #trunks briefs #future trunks #dbz trunks #saiyan #dbz fanart #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #lemon #smut #love #romance #goku black #mai

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lobotomyladylives · 3 months

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Rant

honestly...I'm SO tired of being stuck between other jews who genuinely think there's nothing wrong with what the israeli government is doing, and pro palestine american leftists who act like absolute ghouls to random jews in the name of their cause & spread literal antisemitism and misinformation constantly. why can't anyone be fucking NORMAL about this or anything else! where is the nuance? why can't we come to an agreement even on the most basic shit, like "hm maybe civilians don't deserve to die for their governments actions?" but no, apparently that makes you a genocidal fascist even if the whole point is being AGAINST genocide no matter what.

my uncle gets kicked out of his synagogue he's been a member of for 3 decades for criticizing the IDF. I get called a nazi by fellow jews for saying we need a ceasefire, then called a nazi by fellow leftists for saying hamas & the houthi are also awful (for palestinians too). the israeli govt says death to all palestinians, they're all terrorists, there's no Innocent civilians even the children. Hamas says death to all jews, they're a scourge on the planet, and leftists clap along, say there's no innocent civilians in israel. the power division is of course hugely skewed in favor of israel, and the death toll is massively disproportionate, so I spend a lot of time talking about that-but seeing other people who believe in this cause being straight up antisemitic is so depressing.

everyone seems to have forgotten that most people are the same. no matter where they're born they just want to live their lives and feel like their loved ones are safe. if you're incapable of having empathy without seeing yourself in their position, try to imagine if people started attacking random americans for the actions of our demented leaders. we /voted/, after all, so that means it's totally fine if someone bombs a city or start stabbing and shooting people who have nothing to do with the conflict! it's fine to rape women and it's fine to blow up babies and alls fair in war and and and.

It's really for me to see just how easily people get radicalized into justifying atrocities. i see how islamic jihad organizations use the bombing of their people to recruit young men into committing acts of terror, and it's easy to see how the israeli government uses the holocaust and the very real spectre of rising antisemitism in the world to make their people think the only way for them to survive is to create a highly militarized state and defend it at all costs, even if that cost is tens of thousands of innocent human lives.

like it's not as if I didn't realize all this before but it's just particularly bleak at the moment. it's insane. it's demented. I hate humanity so much rn in particular the war mongering men who drive every single one of these conflicts (you didn't think I was going to overlook the fact that it's men doing this, did you?) they're so fucking bloodthirsty. every war on earth has involved the mass rape, torture and slaughter of women and girls from the "enemy" population. and then men tell us they're the only ones suffering in war because they're the soldiers, totally ignoring how civilians pay the price of conflicts they didn't even participate in.

all of it is just weighing on me particularly hard today. I hate living in a man's world. all they're good at is destruction. I don't want to keep seeing the planet be torn up for the sake of their greed and I don't want to be forced to suffer the consequences of their lack of humanity. even female separation isn't enough while we have to share our world with them.

#i am in a really gloomy mood about all this

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

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Rematch

December 9: Coat/Bundle - Blind Date (Frankie Morales x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW: Slight angst; slight fluff. Squint to find the “coat” and “bundle.”

Word Count: 1806

AN: A sequel to this!

AN2: Requested by anon!

Frankie tries to move on. He goes to work, he goes home. He takes his daughter on the weekends and tries to create memories with her even if she is so young. He takes her to parks, plays with her, snuggles on the couch when she’s drowsy.

Those are just the weekends. His weekdays are lonely and bleak, but he drives forward. He keeps working at his recovery. He doesn’t let the darkness push against him too much.

It’s a month later when Tom and Pope try to make plans with him. There’s a new brewery in town, and they cajole Frankie for a guys’ night out. It takes a lot of convincing; Frankie’s not feeling especially social, but he finally agrees to it.

He realizes way too late that he’s been set up. He should have known better. Tom was just a shade too eager to go out, and Pope was just a shade too curious about Frankie’s arrival time.

When Frankie arrives at the brewery, he doesn’t see the guys. He stands awkwardly near the entrance and cranes his neck to see if he can find them…but he finds you instead. You’re sitting alone at a table, and you’re looking right at him with an expression of resigned dread.

Frankie’s phone pings: a message from Tom.

She wanted to apologize, Fish.

Then one from Pope. Wouldn’t hurt to hear her out.

Frankie may be a lot of things, but he’s a nice guy. Other men, egos wounded, may have turned and walked out or stayed and made a scene. But Frankie offers you a small smile from across the room and then goes to join you.

****

To say you feel terrible would be an understatement.

You feel awful. You feel like the lowest, rudest piece of shit to ever walk the earth.

You never meant for Frankie to overhear you, but that’s the thing—the lesson your mother tried to instill in you: never say something behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t be willing to say to their face.

At the party, after Frankie left, Tom was the one to chew you out. He pulled you aside, let you know that Frankie overheard your unkind words. He gave you an exhaustive list of why the man was a good one, one of the best, and when you got home that night, you cried.

You hated to hurt people, especially perfectly nice, perfectly kind people like Frankie had seemed to be.

And he does seem perfectly kind, because he has no good reason not to turn around and leave or to march up to your table and yell at you, but he doesn’t do either of those things. He walks over and sits down, and he even manages a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s something.

*****

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for the subterfuge.” You pause, swallow nervously. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again, so I asked Tom to set this up.”

“You could have just texted me. Gotten my number, you know?”

You nod. “Yeah, but I wanted to apologize, and a text apology is lame. Or a phone call.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Stop.” You hold up a hand to silence him. “Yes, I do.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard from a woman.”

You frown. “It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize to you though.” You reach down into the empty seat beside you, and you pull out a mixed bouquet of flowers. You lay them gently in front of him, the little bundle of cheerful orange and yellow flowers.

It’s absurd: flowers as an apology, flowers gifted to a man from a woman…Frankie’s never gotten flowers before, but he finds himself touched by the gesture. Charmed by it. He reaches out and touches the velvety petals and wonders at the warmth of someone who would buy flowers for the person who could serve them a helping of crow. He murmurs his thanks, and you murmur back that it’s nothing, it’s the least you can do.

He sits back in his chair and fixes you with a curious look. “You know, just setting this up is more than enough. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Can I buy you a beer?” you ask, looking around the room for your waitress. “And something to eat? Can I at least do that?”

He looks at you a beat longer and then nods. “Yeah, sure. That’d be nice.”

-----

There’s a moment early on when Frankie looks at you, and you gaze back at him so earnestly—pleading for a chance to apologize, so sincere that it seems like you might cry…he actually feels ashamed of himself.

That this entire thing became a thing. That you stewed for a month while he wallowed. That Tom and maybe Molly too gave you hell. It wasn’t like you’d said anything overtly rude. You had just expressed a desire to not get involved with a recently-divorced father. Who could blame you?

He’s ashamed that this got blown up on his behalf, that you felt like you needed to trick him into a blind date (though he’s not sure it counts, since it was only blind on one side) to apologize.

But when you each get a beer in you, and when you split an order of loaded nachos, the tension between you eases and he finds that he’s enjoying himself. Against all odds.

And he finds that he can listen to your apology, finally.

“I am really sorry, Frankie,” you say, and you look him in the eye when you say it. No blinking, no glancing away. “It was unfair of me to say those things about you.”

“You just said facts, though,” he replies softly. “I am divorced. I am a single father.”

“I put a value judgement around those facts with my tone.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, reaches for another tortilla chip.

“Frankie, I hurt your feelings. I feel terrible about it.”

He chews, swallows. Takes a sip of beer and shrugs again. “It’s okay.”

“Look.” You lean forward, hands on the table and you look at him. “I really enjoyed our conversation that night. But when you told me that you just got divorced, that you have a baby at home, I sorta panicked. I’m not saying this as an excuse, because I did hurt your feelings and it’s inexcusable. But I did the whole “date a single father” thing before, and it ended really badly. He was military too. It just felt like…”. You trail off, shift your gaze towards the ceiling as you try to put it into words.

“It felt like history repeating itself?” Frankie offers, and your eyes snap back to him as you nod.

“Yes! Exactly.” You reach for your glass and take a deep swallow of beer, then continue.

“It just got overwhelming in the span of…minutes. You and I split up for a bit—you went off to get more drinks—and it was just…runaway thoughts. Like, here I am talking to this cute guy, and he’s super nice but he just got divorced and his daughter’s still a baby so his ex-wife is still in his life, and it just…felt like I’d be signing up for more heartache. So I panicked and pulled Molly aside, and that’s what you overheard. You overheard me reliving the past and thinking it was about to repeat itself.”

Frankie’s head gets a little big, hearing that you think he’s cute, but he nods seriously and asks, “what happened with the other guy?”

You drop your eyes down to the table, and you trace your finger through a ring of condensation there. “He got back together with his ex-wife. I did…oh, about two years with him, playing second mom. I did the sleepless nights and diaper changes and that really shitty period where the baby’s molars were coming in rapid-fire…and then he just up and got back together with his ex.”

Frankie clucks his tongue in sympathy. “And he was military too?”

“Army.”

“Ah.”

You sigh. You glance at him and then drop your eyes again. “That was a year ago. I finally thought I might be ready to date again. I asked Molly if she knew anyone and she mentioned you. She didn’t give me much about your situation…”

Frankie sits back in his chair and studies you for a moment. The misery is written all over your face as you gaze fixedly at the tabletop. Molly gave him none of this backstory. Not a single bit of it.

“Well, shit.” He chuckles, and it pulls your gaze to him. “No wonder you panicked.”

You smile ruefully. “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

You shake your head but the smile stays on your face. “Can you just say you accept my apology?”

He smiles back at you, leans forward in his seat. “I forgive you.”

-----

The rest of the evening is nice. Maybe it doesn’t qualify as a date; maybe it was just a chance for you to apologize in person, but it’s still a nice evening out with a woman.

The two of you commiserate about your failed relationships—you and your ex, Frankie and his marriage—and he feels that filament of hope flare up bright in him. He understands how your past hurts drive you. He thinks you maybe understand him a little bit too.

When the waitress brings the check, you reach out lightning-fast and swipe it from Frankie’s hand, and when he grumbles about it, you laugh and say “don’t you fucking even think about paying, buddy,” which makes him laugh too.

Frankie laughing with another woman. The filament of hope burns brighter.

You each stand to leave, and when you struggle to pull your coat on, Frankie takes it from you, shakes it out. Holds it for you, and it’s the briefest bit of touch—his fingertips against your shoulders—but it’s touch. He hasn’t touched another woman since his ex-wife left him.

Outside, he walks you to your car and you linger, unsure how to part. You kick at the gravel of the parking lot and then mutter, not quite able to meet his gaze, “so, you wanna meet up again sometime?”

Frankie’s been in plenty of scary situations with the military, but it occurs to him how terrifying this night must have been for you. Despite Tom and Molly’s reassurances to his nature, this could have gone terribly. You’re brave, he decides, to have wanted to make amends face-to-face, and you’re doubly brave now to put yourself out there and ask him out. Now is the moment he could have his revenge if he wanted it, but he’s enjoyed his evening…

“Absolutely,” he says. “Let me give you my number.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #catfish morales imagine #Triple Frontier #tropes-and-tales #winter prompts 2022

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I have never known cold in my life like the cold of the early morning in Berlin. It’s the kind of morning that feels like the sun will never rise. The cars still have their headlights on as Claire and I haul our bags up the stairs of the U Bahn station and out onto the street for the first time. It is seven in the morning, and it is not beautiful here.

We huddle together beneath a massive BAHNHOF NEUKOLLN sign and peer through the grey in search for a familiar face. The metal barriers all around us are lined with chained up bicycles overlapping each other, and there is careless graffiti on the shutters of the electronics shop across the road from us. It isn’t open yet. Nothing is open yet, including our hostel, so we stand with our backs against the frigid metal of a cigarette machine and wait.

He’s like an otherworldly spirit when he emerges from the fog, bundled in a big black coat, breaths turning to clouds that absorb into the thick mist around him. He raises a hand in a wave, and his smile is the brightest thing for miles.

“Good morning.” Jude says. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late.” He bends down to hug me and I immediately feel my lack of sleep. I could almost sleep right here on the cushiony softness of his puffer coat with his cheek somehow still warm despite the weather.

“So this is your home.” Claire says as he gives her a hug, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Looks like shit this morning, to be honest. It literally couldn’t be uglier, but welcome to Berlin.” He offers to carry some of our bags, and we let him. We head down an identically bleak street that’s lined with Doner Kebab takeaways, phone shops and tiny supermarkets, all closed. Jude gently tugs on the back of my collar when I try to cross the road.

“You have to wait for the green man.” He says near my ear.

I stare at him incredulously. “I know, but there’s no cars coming.”

“I don’t make the rules here.” We stand then, stupidly, waiting for the lights to change as not a single car passes us by. Then finally, it does, and we can cross.

“That was ridiculous.” I say. “What’s going to happen if I just walk? They’ll throw me in jail?”

“No, worse.” He says. “An old German woman will materialise and start scolding you from her kitchen window. Happens literally every time.”

“Hm. So they’re pretty rule bound here.”

“You’re telling me.”

Jude lives a twenty minute walk from the station in a large brutalist block of flats that is identical to all of the other brutalist blocks of flats that flank it on all four sides. I wonder how he can ever remember which is his, or how many times in his first few weeks he found himself wandering around trying to recall which block he walked out of that same morning, because I can certainly imagine that for myself.

“Oh, cats!” Claire comments as a pair of tabbys appear from the vegetation around the base of the building, one of whom starts winding her slinky body in between Jude’s ankles and mewing rather impatiently at him while the other sits watch from a short distance away. He leans down to scratch her head. “Nothing for you right now.” He says to her. “I’ll come back later on.”

“You feed these cats.” I say. Not a question, a fact.

“I’m the crazy cat man of the neighbourhood.” He admits. “But they just love me, they must know that I have a kind soul.”

“It’s because you feed them.” The tabby gives up on him and approaches me next, mouth open in a startling maw, her meow the cat equivalent of a screech. “Jesus.” I whisper.

“It’s just how she sounds.” He explains. “She’s actually a well tempered cat.”

“What’s her name?”

“I call her Main Street, because that’s where she mostly hangs out, and that one.” He points his thumb toward her noticeably more timid pair, hovering by the wheels of a parked car. “That’s Ten Feet Behind.”

“Because she’s always-”

“Yeah, ten feet behind the other cat.” He grins with chattering teeth. “Let’s go inside, it’s so damn cold.” With stiff fingers he punches in the code for the apartment and leads us into a hallway stuffed to the gills with more bikes. There is no lift, which means we have to carry our things up the stairway, winding around and around, hoping that each landing will be our last, but we keep going up until the seventh floor, where finally, mercifully, Jude lays our bags on the floor and fumbles in his pocket for his keys.

“Jonas is probably still asleep.” He warns us. “So let’s try and keep it down until he surfaces.” He gingerly opens the door to his apartment and lets us inside, and the heating is on, and my body is flooded with the kind of warmth and comfort that makes me want to curl up on that inviting green couch in the living area and fall asleep for hours.

“You two can sit down wherever.” Jude says, so we peel our coats off and leave them hanging in a closet by the door. “I’ll make something for us to eat.”

“Oh? Food?” Claire says, as she and I sink into the soft cushions of his couch. “You don’t have to make anything.”

“I’m hungry, I’m sure you’re hungry, we can eat.”

“Okay.” She says, immediately convinced, and I wind my arm with hers and rest my head on her shoulder as my eyes flutter shut with contentment. The apartment is so nice. It smells good. There is nice art on the walls that looks as though it was picked out by someone with a good eye, rather than the usual landlord special back in Dublin, which consists usually of some ancient picture of a hideous, jowled dog that was likely dug out of the bottom of a bargain pile at a car boot sale.

I can’t believe that this morning I was in Dublin, and now I’m in a different country. I’m really in Berlin. I’m in Jude’s house. He’s cooking breakfast. It feels like something that would only happen in my head, but I keep opening my eyes to make sure that it’s real, and finding out that it is. After a while I peer over the back of the couch, and he has his back to me, whisking eggs in a bowl, and I read the spines of the cookbooks stacked neatly by the hob. Ottolenghi. Samin Nosrat. Grace Young. There are no books with unsophisticated titles like One Pot Wonders or Meals in Minutes! His are specific cuisines. Middle eastern food, Japanese food, North African, Italian, Chinese, French. I prop my chin on my hand and regard him with fresh interest. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Of course.”

“I mean that I didn’t know that you cooked cooked, as in, more than just improvised tomato pasta and shepherd’s pie from a container.”

He chuckles. “I seem like I enjoy food from containers, do I?”

“Not particularly, I just never thought about it.”

He takes a serrated knife to a hunk of soft bread and cuts off several thick slices. “I’ve always liked to cook. I had to do it a lot when my parents were too busy to make dinner for my sister, it all kind of fell on me, and I grew to like it a bit, I suppose. Luckily. There’s not much that beats the taste of something you made yourself. When it’s good, I mean.”

He casually drunks a slice of bread into the beaten eggs with one hand and fires up the gas stove with the other. “Weird that you never knew that about me, honestly.”

“I suppose it never came up.”

“Hm. Well, surprise.”

The door from an adjoining room suddenly opens, and I glance around to see a very broad, bare chested man emerge from the darkness of his bedroom. “Hello” He says groggily. “What smells good?”

Claire, who had drifted into a shallow sleep before, regards him suddenly with wide, shocked eyes. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, looking like a viking, with blonde hair the length of his shoulders and messed up on one side to suggest that he sleeps on his right.

“Oh.” He says when he notices us on the couch. “Hello ladies.” He steps in front of us so that we’re just about eye level with his crotch and extends a hand for Claire to shake, then me. “I don’t need introductions. I know that you’re Claire, and you’re Evie.” He points his thumb at himself. “I’m Jonas.”

Jude peers at him from the kitchen. “Yeah, they’re pleased to meet you, Jonas, can you put trousers on please.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Okay! If you want.” and goes back into his room.

“Oh my god.” Claire says under her breath. I can’t tell whether she’s appalled or impressed, but she’s wide awake now.

Jude starts dealing out plates at the counter, and we get up to take our seats as he carefully places a slice of perfectly golden French toast in front of us. He takes a bowl of fresh berries out of the fridge, along with some sort of mascarpone cheese cream, and slides a jar of maple syrup across the counter into my waiting hand. “Enjoy.” He says, and stands on the other side of the counter to eat his the way that Italians drink espresso, al banca. He stabs his fork into the centre of the toast and swipes the knife across it. He’ll have it all eaten in ten seconds, but Claire and I will savour every delicious mouthful.

“Sorry about the berries.” Jude says eventually. “They’re off-season.”

“Oh God, no, we don’t mind that.” Says Claire. “It’s actually so good, this is unreal.”

“Absolutely.” I agree. “This is like something you’d get in a restaurant.”

“Calm down, lads, it’s just French toast.” Says Jude, but the tips of his ears have gone red.

When Jonas reemerges, dressed, he takes a plate from the cupboard and starts unceremoniously shovelling food onto it, and then stands barefoot in the middle of the kitchen eating it like a wild animal. I side eye Claire to gauge her reaction to this, and just like I expected she’s horrified.

“What is everyone going to do today?” He says, mouth jammed with bread.

“No big plans.” I tell him. “Maybe see the sights a bit, wander around. Look at the shops.”

“Oh, have you got costumes for Saturday night?”

“Sort of. Halfway, maybe. We were hoping to find something here.” I glance at Claire and she nods. I have the shoes I want to wear, but nothing else. She hasn’t got a single item, so some serious shopping is in order.

“There are so many places for thrift shopping.” He says with a wave of his fork. “You will find something great.” He prods Jude’s shoulder with his fork. “Are you going too?”

“Nah we’ve agreed to meet up in the evening, I have to go to the studio today, unfortunately.”

“Work work work.” Jonas says with an eye roll. “I hope you get a good job after all of this is finished, or it will all be for nothing.”

“Agreed.” Jude says flatly. “Who are going as, by the way? I mean, costume wise” he says to Claire and I then, eyes flitting back and forth between us, and I smirk at him. “We’re not telling you.” We don’t know. “We’re going to surprise you on the night.”

“Fine, then I’ll surprise you too.”

“Well I’m expecting to be impressed.”

His smile falters. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“You mean you’re not overly prepared?”

“It was a difficult theme.”

“It’s not difficult.” Jonas informs him. “It would be difficult if it was, I don’t know, 1930s soviet politicians, but it’s 60’s celebrities. It really couldn’t be easier.”

“Okay.” He shrugs. “Just mostly men were just wearing variations of the same suit.”

“Not true. You could have been a beatle, or a rolling stone, any of those groovy woodstock men, you didn’t think outside the box.” Jonas turns and winks at us. “My costume is good. Wait and see.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3

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winepresswrath · 9 months

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I do gotta say tho, even tho I’m mad at aziraphale because he’s being a terrible boyfriend like what you said about the “I forgive you like” because WHAT. But also I really like the way the show really demonstrates the underlying cruelty of heaven and it’s angels. Really shows the hypocrisy of a group of beings who are supposed to do good, especially aziraphale who really buys into the heaven propaganda, who hurts people, particularly the person who means the most to him. Because like you said he fully just takes advantage of that devotion Crowley has for him. Insane, this shwo makes me INSANE

I missed this anon and yeah! The angels were one of my favourite parts of the season, and I think the strongest element aside from Neil Gaiman deciding he's just a simple man who wants to put his otp in situations. They are deeply awful and I kind of love them. They are the exact kind of moralizing hypocrites who are callous and cruel precisely because they think being on team good means everything they do is justified and it's actually impossible for them to be in the wrong (they're angels! is it even possible for them to do the wrong thing?).

but!! To me, they also seem like they're basically kids? Obviously they're not literally children, but there is this very consistent reoccurring joke about how childish/sheltered/immature they are. Muriel is the most obvious example, but the archangels come off like bratty twelve year olds to her sweet little kid.

Gabriel is basically teenager in love flipping off his family as he runs away with his backstreet guy. Uriel is constantly picking at Michael, Michael is playing at being in charge like it's a game, and it's ridiculously easy for both Aziraphale and Crowely to trick them obvious half assed lies. They're not allowed to ask questions! The Metatron treats them like badly behaved kids out past their curfew. At any point an old man with a beard may pop up to scold them and send them home, and they're all scared of doing something wrong by his standards and getting in trouble with this guy who is pointedly not God but who lines up exactly with the pop-culture idea of god the father, and who offers Aziraphale, among other things, a respite from the hard work of figuring out what the right thing to do is for himself. It's fine! You don't have to question the belief system you were born into or make a painful break with everything you've ever known! Aziraphale has had six thousand years on earth to grow up, but the other angels have been sitting in a sterile white box playing "i'm not touching you" games with each other and filing paperwork.

And I think that's extra interesting because this season also really emphasizes:

Heaven has Institutional Problems

Aziraphale isn't the only angel who's unhappy in heaven. Gabriel and Muriel were both completely miserable. They just didn't understand that they were unhappy because they'd never experienced anything else.

Angels who aren't Aziraphale can change and grow! There's very explicitly Gabriel being changed by love and Muriel growing up a bit on earth, and from a more fan-theory angle there's also Jimbriel, who I think is probably basically Gabriel minus the war and six thousand years of playing referee for Michael and Uriel while unleashing an assortment of plague and calamities on earth because that's God's will! Buck up champ.

We also get Gabriel and Beezelebub talking about how their underlings basically live for Armageddon, "if you can call that living." This is so bleak. They've all been on a six thousand year time out just dreaming of the day they get to beat the shit out of each other until they feel better, but it won't work because eternity is just more of the box.

Anyway I think it's going in a distinctly eden adjacent direction. Aziraphale is going to tempt those angels with knowledge and the capacity for change. I have veered so far from your ask anon i'm sorry you're right heaven really went all out on sucking this season & while Crowley and Aziraphale are both fucking it up Crowley refrains from being spectacularly cruel to Aziraphale about it and Aziraphale should learn to return the favour. I forgive you!! I forGIVE you. I forgive YOU. "you can be an angel again" is actually a worse thing to say than "you're a demon. i don't even like you." when he finally picks crowley over heaven i'm going to lose my mind.

#good omens spoilers #good omens season two spoilers #idk it makes me sad that i didn't like the humans very much this season because i think ideally they're central to this whole how to be #a person question i also hope we get to see more of hell next season because i do think they're stuck in basically the same place #with a different aesthetic! and the stick being #thrown into a torture pit instead of thrown into hell #or like. mindwiped and locked in an office for all eternity #gabriel broke my heart which is embarrassing but when he goes from not even understanding what music is to experiencing #the simple pleasure of sharing a song with someone for the very first time and almost immediately hits repeat for eternity... baby. baby bo #i would also like more crowley! this was very much the season of aziraphale #which is fine but i missed him yelling questions at god and the bits where it seemed he really wanted aziraphale's opinion instead of just #wanting aziraphale to develop better opinions #next season had better be crowley wrestles with the universe i am telling you!!!#remember three months ago when i was like eh... another good omens season #i bet it'll be cute but i'm content with my book #i don't go here i said strapping on my clown shoes #seriously though i do think crowley is scared to admit to wanting to be good both because god rejected him and he doesn't want #to be a sucker for her (he is only interested in being a sucker for aziraphale)#and like. chase after something he's barred from and has already been told isn't for him.#and that's why it's so hard for him to admit even to himself that he too would be unhappy ditching earth #in ways that parallel aziraphale's unwillingness to let go of heaven as a source of moral authority and goodness #but the way aziraphale goes oh no! i cannot trust my own judgement and desires. They are suspect!#my judgement is that crowley is good and also funny and sexy. my desires are for his company and also his body #therefore the source of these desires is also maybe bad. i mean he's a demon. he's got to be bad #right??? but no. but i saw him do a good thing. but maybe i didn't? I should probably take a stance on this.#and he makes this crowley's problem until the apocalypse but then the second he gets the chance to cram crowley and his feelings for him #back in a heaven approved box he jumps at it in a way that requires just being WILDLY insensitive and dismissive of crowley's feelings #he's not just being a dick about their relationship he is being a dick about crowley as a person. and he should know better but is choosing #not to because he wants the easy out so badly. anyway i love him he was my favourite character all season no notes #good omens

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keyh0use · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 6: Daddy Kink

Barry is soft in this, if you want rough sex, go to day 7

Music filtered in through the open patio doors, twinkling lights strung up along the towering trees overhead, lighting the makeshift dance floor as Ward Cameron twirled his already staggering wife around. It was the patriarch's birthday, and boy did he go all out. Every wealthy family was in attendance, moseying around the manicured lawn with their noses turned up at the south side servers offering adorable little hor d'oeuvres and sloshing glasses of red wine. Barry was amongst the snotty crowds—but he was far from fitting in with them. He humoured Rafe by wearing a deep blue suit that had been carefully selected, tailored and then laid across their springy mattress in a dry cleaner bag for him. The boy cared about showing up and showing out for these things, and Barry wasn't going to let his baby down, no matter how uncomfortable he was. So he wore the suit. And left his hair down, washed curls tickling his ears, just the way Rafe liked. Arriving together was expected, Rafe dragging Barry around by his hand as they made rounds, some partygoers much more friendly towards the drug dealer than others. But that was alright, Barry found it hard to be mad while his boy was pressed comfortingly to his side—until he wasn't. One minute Rafe was whispering in his ear about needing to go to the bathroom, and the next he was gone. That was surely a good ten minutes ago, and the older man was growing restless in the boring conversation he was unwillingly sucked into. With some kind parting words, Barry made his way from the warmly lit backyard into the pristine white house, such a stark contrast it made his head momentarily throb. No photos adorned the walls, only paintings and large windows.

Walking the hallways of Tanneyhill always made the older man feel so sad for Rafe, growing up in a house instead of a home. The kitchen was full of staff and the living room full of servers, complaining about the guests quietly amongst themselves while waiting for their trays to be re-filled. No sign of Rafe, leaving Barry to wander around mindlessly opening door after door, searching for his boy.

When he passes by the overly spacious formal living room, a giant family portrait hangs over the decorated mantle and Barry looks up and his own smiling face stares down at him. Barry can never look at the photo for too long, feeling an odd sense of belonging that makes his chest ache. So he moves on after scanning the space, glancing in a half-bath before pushing open a heavy door. It's Mr. Cameron's office, undoubtedly.

The drug dealer has spent a lot of alone time with Ward, being questioned about his intentions and family history and career goals and all that shit parents care about. It was always awkward and tense, but Barry powered through and eventually gained approval to marry the Cameron heir.

Which he did. Yet, none of those treacherous meetings ever took place in Tanneyhill, so Barry had never set foot in the bleak office. The curious man can't help but move a couple steps inside, glancing around at the minimal furniture. Bookshelves, filing cabinets, and a desk at the far end. Barry figured Ward wouldn't care too much if he used the outdated phone lying beside a stack of papers to call his husband, having left his own phone all the way in the centre console of the pick-up. Dropping down onto the swivelling leather chair, Barry reached for the receiver and paused—a single photo was placed gingerly out of the way, Ward and Sarah smiling side by side. The sight had Barry's eyes squinting in annoyance. Sure, Rafe had a much better relationship with his father these days, but it didn't heal all the pain and pressure the patriarch caused over the years. Barry thinks the favouritism will always leave a sour taste in his mouth because Rafe is perfect, so deserving of all the love in the world. Damaged knuckles knock gently against the frame and send it toppling off the desk to shatter against wooden floorboards, tiny shards of glass skittering outwards and the lifeless photo lying face-down, the mans lips turning up at one corner. Before he can resume his intended purpose of being in another mans office in the first place, the door is pushed open and Rafe storms in, looking ready to scold whatever idiot invading his fathers personal space within an inch of their life—only to stop short and stare, gaze swimming with confusion. "What are you doing in here?" Rafe asks, turning quickly to close the door as soundlessly as possible. With an easy shrug, Barry answers, "You left me." "Shit, yeah, sorry." Gold rings shimmer beneath the overhead lighting as Rafe drags a palm down his tired face, going on to explain, "Wheezie spilled juice on her dress and started crying and I couldn't find another one she liked because...because purple doesn't go with her shoes, so she'd have to change the whole outfit...then we found something but when she put it on she felt gross?" Rafe ends the sentence like a question, brows drawn as he recounts the events of the last twenty minutes. "But then Sarah came barging in and pardoned me, so...her problem now." Dark eyes rove over the powder blue suit wrapped around the boys lean body and the way perfectly slicked back hair has started falling loose from sweat, making Rafe look dishevelled. "Look at you, country club, bein' a good big brother. Come so far from the obnoxious little kook you once were," the older man compliments. "Yeah, well, I'd say you're a good influence but that would be a lie," counters Rafe bashfully, trying to hide the nervous flush to his cheekbones by deflecting and turning away. "I ain't corrupt that head of yours." Standing up from the comfy chair, Barry made his way over to his boy and pressed a lingering kiss to a red cheek. "You were more than ready to do a bunch of nasty shit from the beginning."

Rafe fidgets with his sleeve, mumbling, "'Cause you look like that."

"You sweet talkin' me, boy?" Barry drawls, gold tooth glinting when he grins like their matching rings.

The kook does lean into him but otherwise is distracted, and Barry realises Rafe is anxious. There's the obvious pressure being at family events present, but it's more than that too, this amount of nervous fidgeting the direct result of Ward's belittling.

The older man can't even imagine how many despicable things were said to his baby in this very room.

Smoothing comforting hands down the length of Rafe's body, Barry orders gently, "Get undressed."

"What?" Rafe asks in disbelief, shocked eyes finally turning on the other man. "Barry there are people everywhere—"

"Just outside," corrects Barry. "And I ain't asking, baby boy."

Not one to disobey, Rafe's fumbling fingers start undoing the buttons on his dress shirt, worrying his bottom lip while Barry locks the door before crossing the room to take a seat in the big chair once more. Palming himself while watching the boy remove each layer of clothing, Barry clocks the exact moment Rafe's skittish eyes land on the mess on the floor, freezing only momentarily before he's stepping out of his briefs and hastily moving around the desk.

"Just wanna make you feel safe, okay?" mumbles Barry. Rough hands curl around the back of Rafe's bare thighs to tug the boy closer, the older man leaning forward to press gentle kisses against his abs, tensing under the affection. Rafe sits his naked body right in Barry's lap, planes of unblemished skin on full display. He's trembling—just a little—when two fingers press into him, sinking in straight to the knuckles. It's only been a few hours since they had each other last and there's still come inside, hole still relaxed.

Barry works hard to stretch Rafe out as quickly as possible, reminded they aren't alone every time footsteps pass by the door and dishes clink, thick fingers scissoring and pressing bluntly to the boy's prostate with skillful ministrations.

"Take it so well, baby," praises Barry, leaning forward to bite at Rafe's pebbled nipples, making him arch his back and pant wantonly. "You wanna come?" asks Barry, receiving an eager nod from the boy riding his hand.

"Yeah," the boy rushes out. "Yes, daddy."

Brushing a trail of kisses across Rafe's face, Barry tells him, "What a good boy using your words." Retracting the digits, Barry wipes his spit covered hand on the leather arm of the chair and maneuvers down onto the floor between his parted legs. "All the lube you're gonna get tonight, pretty baby, go 'head."

Rafe leans forward to press a firm kiss to Barry's stiff cock, straining against the expensive material of the dark blue suit. A firm hand weaves its way into soft blonde hair and the boy offers a rare sweet smile up at his man before diving back in to lick a long stripe along the throbbing length, settling in to suck greedily on the tip. The kook practically makes out with his bulge, tongue coating the fabric with spit. It's going to look like Barry pissed himself but he doesn't give a fuck. "Get it wet, baby, c'mon," urges Barry.

And Rafe doesn't have to be told twice, dragging the zipper down on Barry's slacks and fishing his cock out, kitten licking at the beads of come pooling on his tip. There's a knock against the door—or close enough it sounds like it—followed by a fit of giggles from a couple guests stumbling down the hallway, likely in search of one of the many bathrooms. Barry mumbles in a gentle tone, "No time for teasin," before guiding the boys mouth down his sizeable length with a punched-out groan. Rafe slid the shaft down his throat with little struggle, having spent years getting used to being on his knees and swallowing something so fat. Keeping a firm grip on the boys soft hair, Barry controls the pace Rafe bobs his head at, soft wet sounds penetrating the quiet room.

"Such a good little cocksucker," Barry whispers affectionately, watching Rafe choke himself through half-lidded eyes. "My precious baby, so good to me."

With his chest heaving, Barry rested his head back against the chair, curls starting to mat to his forehead. A sheen of sweat coats his tanned skin and he has to make a serious effort to keep quiet, biting his lip hard when teeth graze the underside of his cock. A gentle tug has Rafe pulling off, mouth agape and eyes glazed when he peers up at his man.

Barry says, "C'mon," softly while helping the boy to his feet, backing him up against the solid desk to kiss him. In one fell swoop, Rafe is lifted onto the workspace with ease, his man fitting perfectly between his legs.

Rafe turns a nervous glance towards the door with a harsh swallow, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know if this is...if it's okay, if we get caught—"

"I ain't gonna let anything happen to you," promises Barry, kissing the frown off his boys face, possessive hands settling on pale hips. "Nobody else gets to smack you around or yell at you or be mean to you—just me. You know that, don't you?"

Their foreheads knock together and Rafe is nodding, trying to match Barry's breathing. The boy is pulled forward until his ass hangs off and then the older man is spitting in his own hand and slathering his cock, before guiding it to Rafe's twitching hole by the base.

When Barry is seated fully inside, Rafe breathes out, "Yeah, I know."

Rough fingers caress one flushed cheek as Barry's hips begin to pump at a steady pace, free arm wrapping around the boy's trim waist to keep them close.

"Protect you from anything," pants Barry. "From anyone."

Rafe nods in response, moans falling freely the rougher Barry's hips snap forward, shaking the heavy desk and sending a stack of files to the floor. Neither of them have the mind to care.

Circling Rafe's waist with both arms, Barry keeps him close and safe while they near the finish line together.

"You gonna come, baby?" asks Barry softly, his boy nodding with a whimper. "Go ahead, make a mess," he encourages.

Rafe trembles when comes, sticky ropes shooting over his belly and chest, soaking through Barry's dress shirt where they're pressed together.

The way Rafe arches, whines and squirms in the older man's hold is what does it for Barry, pressing forward until he's buried deep to still his hips and emptying his load.

He has to seal their lips together to silence the groan that threatens to rip out of him, muffling the noises into Rafe's mouth.

The cleanup is easy enough, Barry leans his baby back and licks up all the mess, before tucking himself away and retrieving Rafe's discarded clothes.

Sure hands dress the shaking boy, pressing kisses into flushed and tacky skin.

With a hand on the doorknob, Barry turns to Rafe and asks, "You wanna go home, country club?"

"Nah," Rafe answers with a shrug. "Feeling better now."

Sorry if the ending seems rushed, I'm at Thanksgiving dinner.

#rafebarry #rafe x barry #rarry obx #kinktober #genuinely intended for this to be rougher #but there's something so sweet to me about traumatized Rafe being comforted in such a bad place #Barry loves him so much

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redux-iterum · 5 months

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Dullard Participates in the Book Club and Actually Intends to Continue? Impossible.

So, first book of Wings of Fire read.

Honestly?

Didn’t hate it. Rather liked it, actually.

I’m just gunna go over what stuck out to me the most, because there is a good deal to talk about with this book and I don’t want to go on a ramble about timelines and worldbuilding and all that. I’ll leave that to Lynx, the fucking nerd that she is.

The dialog is my favorite part, which should surprise nobody who knows about my love of banter. It feels very different from other HC book series like Warriors or Survivors – it’s comedic and witty, more casually spoken than attempting to sound cool. There’s very little in the way of contrived conversation, if you get what I mean; characters interact authentically instead of to move the story forward or backward. Dialog spoken by villains and general antagonists can be pretty cliché, but those characters are pretty cliché in general, so it still feels about right for them.

The worst part, for me, are those aforementioned villains and antagonists. I get that this is a kid’s series, so you have to make who the bad guy is more obvious for the sake of ease of understanding. I just found them cartoony compared to the more organic-feeling protagonists. Granted, the protagonists are also a little tropey, but I would argue their tropes work together very well to create a natural, nuanced character, with the side benefit of mixing beautifully with the other protagonists’ personalities. Clay is the Big Guy, but he’s also sweet-natured and meek, having had his true power emotionally beaten out of him, which gave him a lot of self-worth issues and doubts as to his competence that left him unable to really fulfill the Big Guy role. All of the heroes are like this (Tsunami is fucking amazing, by the way), and the characters we’re supposed to like have similar thought put into them.

Perhaps that’s not the right way to put it. The villains do have thought put into them as well. It’s just that the thoughts all centered around finding the clearest ways to make someone evil. There’s no real nuance to them; if they have multiple traits, it’s to further vilify them. Scarlet is the worst of the bunch, which sucks, because she’s the main villain of this book. I can enjoy a solely-evil, card-carrying villain, but she was just cliché as hell and I didn’t like it. She could have been more interesting, is all.

Slightly related, the names are not the best. Again, kid’s series, so the names are bound to be simpler, but man. Scarlet for an orange dragon? There’s not a lot of cohesion in them either – which, to be fair, illustrates the difference between the tribes of dragons (earthy names for MudWings, for example, and it seems like NightWings like to do two-part names like Morrowseer and Starflight). I don’t think the names overall work, though, either in differences or in cohesion. The main heroes’ names could afford to sound better together, is what I’m saying.

Final thought to close this on: god DAMN are these books violent. Like, I know Warriors is violent, but this book has beheadings and melting faces and burning people to death just mentioned as an aside! I wouldn't go so far as to call this book dark, because this aspect of the story is part of the action and excitement, not there to just pound on how bleak and depressing everything is. It just shocked the hell out of me that this shit got past the editors and higher-ups. They had a lot of faith in this series if they allowed this level of violence.

That’s about all my main takeaways from this first book. I do plan to read the second book, since this one was quite promising. I hope I’ll have more to talk about when the end of December comes and the second book is over.

#book club #wof #wings of fire #the dragonet prophecy #i speak #readmore

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notzawzark · 1 year

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GHOST (mw2) X MALE READER (platonic)

NOT ROMANCE, uh, reader kinda already had a backstory, so kinda bordering on oc, but things like his hight/skincolor/appearance in general is kept blank.

its kinda dogshit looking back on it, so dont expect it to be like.. good, in any sense of the word, its riddled with plot holes and like. writting inconsistency. and also the writting as a whole is just.. mid

TW/CW's: torture, implications towards past abuse, maybe other stuff, but you get the gist, if you your not for any of this, dont read, keep yourself safe

“so..” I break the silence that had once held the room hostage. “you're ghost.” I didn't expect him to actually get captured, let alone get captured alive. Looking through all the intel we have on him, by all means we shouldn’t have been able to get him alive.

I doubt doing this will prove fruitfull.

Were both sat In an “interrogation” room. Only recently was it promoted as such. It used to be more of a “torture and kill” room. Its empty for the most part, only a metal table, two old wood chairs sitting across from each other, and a few pieces of paper with a pencil on my side of the table.

A door behind me, no windows, walls made of some bleak concrete. There are two guards outside the room blocking the door. Not for me. For him. Hes tied up, the boss was never one to take chances. Neither would I with the record and reputation this man has racked up.

“you probably know why you’re here..” I look around “ in this… room.” He doesn’t budge. The mask makes this infinitely harder. “you should probably get comfortable.. I don’t see you leaving anytime soon.” I sigh. I don’t see him leaving ever. Hell probably get killed before he ever gets that luxury.

“ill be completely honest with you. My.. boss, along with all my associates think that what im doing is pointless. They all want to tear into that skin of yours.” I put my feet onto the table. Taking a deep breath in trying to figure out how to word my next sentence.

“I don’t think any of that will work.” Its blunt, but its true. “I think” I pick up the pencil on the table and start tapping it absentmindedly. “that no amount of pain, or threatening of your life, or humiliation will make you to tell them what they want to hear.” I look him dead in the eyes, trying to gage how he reacts. “I think that shit just brews spite.”

Nothing. Honestly its kind of uncomfortable. Staring into his unblinking eyes. They always kinda look glazed over, and red, like he doesn’t sleep much. “I hope you can help me prove them wrong. Because once im done here today theyre going to start torturing you.” I look away. The eye contact is to uncomfortable. “so, whats your real name, ghost?” he doesn’t respond. “what is it.. jack? Is it.. jason?” (I wrote this at 2 am, and thought that jason was ghosts brothers kid, im pretty sure that isnt right, but ignore it, his name is jason now) theres something in his eyes when I say the name jason, but I don’t think its his name. maybe someone he knows. Or knew. “ill be honest im trying to think of british sounding names, and I cant find any.” I crack a joke. Obviously, he doesnt respond.

I sigh. This is going to take awhile. I suggest a few more names. Jason was the only thing that he reacted at. A small reaction however. It could have just been my mind playing tricks. “what about your family?” hopefully this gives me more. “what was your mom like?” nothing. “your dad?” an eye dart. There. That. That is what I needed. I hum, its low, its clearly satisfied. He picks up on it. “your dad, was he a good man,”

Shit. Nothing. Hes either correcting himself now because He knows what im doing. That im trying to get a stir out of him. Or I was mistaken about his reaction. I continue. “was he a bad man?” nothing. Im going to kill myself. “my dad was a bad man.” He shows a hint of confusion. I assume he wasn’t expecting me to talk about myself. “I mean he wasn’t a horrible man from what Ive heard. But he left me and my mom.” I get up from my spot on my chair, and hop up, sitting on the edge of the table to his right. I can see his face better now.

“and a good person doesn’t leave their family, now do they?”

He shifts his focus over to my new spot. He wants to talk. I don’t know what he wants to say, but I can feel his eagerness in the air. “from what I hear you have a dead brother.” Surprise, then anger, then sadness. He looks away. Off to his left. That makes things harder. “how old are you?” he looks to the table as he asks me a question. He seems genuinely curious. “well your definitely British, Jesus.” I remark on his accent. He looks up at me, unamused with my observation.

“im 20.” He doesn’t buy it at all. “19” he seems even less convinced. “17” his eyes narrow. “fine, 16..” I mumble looking at the ground. I don’t see his reaction, but it doesn’t matter. “what is someone your age doing workin’ for a group like this?” I side eye him. “and what is someone of your status doing getting caught by a group like this?” he grunts and goes back to looking to his left.

I sigh, I probably shouldn’t have retorted with that. I might just have sent myself back to square one. “what do you do with your free time, mr. ghost?” he doesn’t respond yet again. I definitely sent myself back to square one. I get off of the table, back into my seat across from him, “have you ever had any pets?” I look up at him, to see his reaction.

It’s a very telling reaction. Hes uncomfortable. “yes? No?” nothing. I look back down, grabbing a piece of paper, and the pencil, I start drawing him. He doesn’t know that though, or at least I assume he doesn’t. I might be a bit more obvious then I want to be. “whats your favorite animal?” I look up again. Hes uncomfortable, less then before, but that’s probably just him regulating it. “mine are snakes.”

He closes his eyes. Ive definitely found something. Theres a moment of silence. “I like the big yellow ones.” He opens his eyes. “I also like the folklore and stories behind snakes.” Hes disengaged. Fuck.

I back down. “who is your favorite artist.” Safer. “music, painting, writing it doesn’t matter.” I focus on my drawing. Im not looking to get a reaction. ”don’t have one.” He answers. “why not?” a genuine question. “don’t have time to have one.”

“well I mean, you cant be working all the time, you get a few weeks off after each mission right?”

“no.”

I hum a response. High pitched. Acknowledging what he said. I begin to get more focused on my drawing, talking less and less. Eventually were both sitting in silence, the only noise in the room being my pencil scratching against the paper.

“you like art?” he nods to the drawings in front of me.

“it passes the time.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. An hour passes by. Im done. Well. As done as ill ever be. I stand up, pushing my chair back. Eyes fixated on my art. Analyzing it to no end. I pick it up, and place it infront of ghost, while I stand close beside him.

“your eyes are expressive.” It sounds creepier then I meant it to. He looks down at it. He really looks at it. Not just a glance over. taking a few minutes. for a bit I think hes fallen asleep until he speaks. “impressive.”

That’s all he has to say? He looks at a drawing for three minutes in silence, and all he has to say is one word? ‘impressive????’ that’s it????? This guy is gonna make me shoot myself. “thank you.” I try my best to make it sound earnest. A very difficult task.

I sit back down at my chair. Hes still looking at the art. “theyre probably gonna come soon.” He looks confused at first, but then it clicks. Hes gonna meet those associates i mentioned earlier. “but if you give me as much as a hint of what they want to hear, I can probably stop him.” Ghost doesn’t respond. Quiet as always. I sigh and lean back in my chair. He looks down to the drawing again. “you ever been drawn before?” I ask

“negative.”

What freak talks like that? Negative??? I get hes in the military but Jesus fucking christ. “you can keep it if you get out of here alive.” I laugh at my own joke under my breath.

“hold onto it. I don’t want it getting bloody.” He looks up from the drawing. Completely deadpan. I cant tell wether hes joking or not.

The door behind me opens, I get up off my chair. “heyyy.” I greet the man at the door from my spot. Hes big. Big big. Probably 6’7-6’8. Sturdy build. Hes always been scary, but I guess that’s a part of the magic. He rolls in a cart im unpleasantly familiar with. It has an assortment of metal tools. For all sorts of different things.

“(reader).”he acknowledges me. his voice always finding a way to unsettle me. He walks past me, dragging his cart of goodies with him. He stops. Grabbing onto ghosts chair, the wood making a shrill sound as he trudges it to the back wall. He takes his cart with him. Ghosts breathing has gone rapid. Mine probably would too. Scratch that. Mine definitely would too.

I grab my drawing off the table. I don’t want to be in here. I start to leave. “(reader), leaving so soon?” the big man turns around, some horrible device already in his hands. Im quiet. I have to watch what I say around him. “yeah.” I search for the right words. “you know I don’t like loud sounds.” Its true, I don’t. theres a tenseness in the room. Like a twig bending before it finally snaps.

He turns his normal sick expression into a hallow smile. “how forgetful of me.” He turns back to ghost. Whose eyes are darting around the room. Probably looking for a way out. He closes them shut tightly, and I find that my queue to leave. I quickly walk through the door, past the guards, and out into the hallway.

That night wasn’t a very restful one. the concrete walls might as well have been made of paper.

boom, you made it to the end, wow thats rad, heres an emoji : 🤯

ALSO if i do continue this, ghost and reader are prob gonna have like a father/son or older/younger brother bond. but yeah. uh i hoped you liked the fanfic.

#ghost mw2 #simon riley #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley x reader #x reader #male reader #platonic reader #mw2 fanfic #fanfic #reader fanfiction

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