#despite the obvious fan demand and like. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hunny-bean · 11 months

Note

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle fanfiction #punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #frank castle x matt murdock x reader

993 notes · View notes

cascade05 · 10 months

Text

So… when people go to Starbucks, they sometimes use celebrity names, right? I saw this post on Pinterest (one of those older Tumblr screenshots) and this person said their name was Tony Stark and they ran into someone who called themselves Bruce Wayne. So that happens, right?

Okay, so, imagine you're working as a barista at some place and you get so many people telling you their name is a pro hero name. The amount of Dekus you have served this week is off the charts and you had no idea Shoto could shape shift into forty different people. In all honesty, though, it's funny and kinda the highlight of your week.

This one day, someone comes in and they tell you there name is Dynamight. Not only does the shy smile on his face tell you, no, it's not Dynamight, but like literally everything else does too. Okay, normal. You place the order and then take the next person in line. This person is also Dynamight. This has happened before and, to prevent confusion, you dub this person Dynamight 1.

The next customer is a stoic man by the name David. The two of you connect eyes, both inwardly laughing at the funny little encounter that just transpired. David is dubbed nice David, a name you mumble and the stoic man hums with joy, you think.

Anyway, after David is—well, a large, intimating man which wild ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes which are enhanced by his dark mask. You blink up at him, shocked for a moment before your eyes flicker to Nice David. You both share a look of shock before evil grins appear in your eyes.

Then Dynamight orders and you take his order professionally, not gushing or fan-girling—and not breaking down into a fit of laughter despite so badly wanting to. He gives you his name, a gruff “Dynamight,“ and you bite your cheek.

You take your sharpie—you've chosen orange for obvious reasons—and your write what some may consider your final words. You're optimistic and consider it funny. “Dynamight 2,“ you mumble and the man snaps his head around with such a bizzare, pissed off look you can't stop the laugh. You tried, which turned it into a snort and the rage in his eyes exploded (heh) at the sound. You hid behind the empty coffee cup, pinching your lips together as laughter prodded at your chest.

“The hell did you just say? You think that shit is funny?!“

You did. Then you realized he probably thought you were making fun of his recent drop from number one hero to number two. He was bitter about that, it was no secret. You cleared your throat, back to looking at Dynamight with your professional facade. “Sorry sir, it's just that,“ you paused, sharing a look with Nice David.

“Spit it out,“ the inpatient hero demanded.

You looked back it him, clearing your throat again as a laugh threatened to ruin everything. You laughed when you here nervous and it didn't help that you always found Dynamight's reactions amusing. But you had to keep it together, for the other, no doubt, embarrassed Dynamights in the room. “Well, I'm sorry to say, but Dynamight and Dynamight 1 have already been taken.“

“What?“

It was so short, so curt, and so blunt you almost laughed again. You saw the other two Dynamights flinch and you wanted to scream. What were the odds the real deal would come into the little cafe the same time as two of his fans? Ah, if you were them you'd be too embarrassed to get your coffee. But, since you weren't them, well, you were there to enjoy the comedy gold.

Back to Dynamight 2. The man still awaited an explanation, far too confused to be annoyed at your lack of action. You looked at the two other Dynamights who's eyes were glued to the floor. You looked at your coworkers, all of which were hiding smiles by showing their backs to the giant pro—busying themselves with work. You looked at Kind Dave, both agreeing this was one of—nay, the BEST thing to ever happen in your lives. You looked at Dynamight 2, a man so lost and so confused, so unsure of his identity.

“If you would like, I can use a different name.“

“Huh?“ That snapped him back to the present. “Hell no, I'm Dynamight!“

“Yes.“

“So use Dynamight!“

“It's already been used—“ “Then swap them!“

“I can't. That would just confuse the team—“ “Then I should be Dynamight 1!“

“That's already been taken.“

“Just change it from Dynamight 2, dammit!“

“How about Dynamight 3?“

Oh if looks could kill. “Change. It,“ he order slowly, lowly, and most definitely sternly.

You coughed into your hand to hide the laugh. “Alright sir, I'll change it.“

You assumed he was too angry to listen to your new name for him which was his fault actually. He could most certainly not blame you for what was to come because it was he who left you unsupervised and you lived off of the pain of others.

There were no other customers so, you had the honor of handing out drinks. It was with great joy you took that job and you, again with great joy, read the name on the cup out loud. “Dynamight.“

You saw the hero twitch. His scowl deepened and you would've laughed to yourself if you weren't waiting for Dynamight to show up. You looked at the small group, raising a brow when no one came. “Guess he left,“ you mumbled.

One of your coworkers mumbled a response. “I'd leave too.“

You both shared a small snicker.

Then the next order came up. “Dynamight one?“ you asked, fully aware that person has also slipped out.

That meant two free coffees for the team.

Next was “Kind David,“ you announced proudly.

The man, the myth, the legend walked up to your counter and, as the name implied, kindly took the drink from you, giving you a kind nod of thanks. You both shared a look of amusement before he left, giving Dynamight 2 a small nod as he passed.

It was time. You held the large black coffee with a hint of cinnamon and a helping of whipped cream in your hand. Dynamight liked whipped cream, who knew? You didn't look at the cup to read the name. No. You looked straight into Dynamight's narrowed eyes. He began approaching the counter, glare hardening in suspicion. You announced him and he bristled with anger, lip lifting up to reveal his pink gums as he sneered down at you. Such a large man.

“Number two!“ you announced loudly, cheerfully, and joyously.

Boy. You had never seen a face curl up like that. He towered over you and he opened his mouth to give you a pice of his mind. But you beat him to it. You leaned forward, mischievous glint in your eye. “Don't worry,“ you whispered, “you'll always be number one here, hero.“

And it was supposed to be a funny jab, you said it with a teasing look. It was supposed to make him snatch the coffee outta your hands with a glare. But, well, you couldn't control his emotions.

He grabbed the coffee, taking it out of your hand normally. He glared, a comparatively calm glare. “Watch yourself, shorty.“

And you let your mouth drop in a dramatic scoff, about to give his back a piece of your mind, then you see it. You freeze, mouth gaping in actual shock. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears were the slightest bit red. You thought you were seeing things. You rubbed your eye. Oh boy, you were not seeing things.

It was supposed to be a funny jab. You said it with a teasing look. But hey, if Dynamight got all embarrassed, that was fine too. “We'll be rooting for you hero!“ you cheered, again, mildly teasing.

He scoffed but you saw the blush grow on the back of his neck. He sent you one glare over his shoulder and your cat-like grin grew at the pink dusting his upper cheek. Then he left and the cafe was silent before you and your coworkers burst into a series of obnoxious laughs and giggles. You were not giggling, by the way, you were on the floor DYING and wheezing in an ugly, hilarious sort way.

Dynamight was an interesting guy.

803 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 1 year

Text

I'm the type of Spy x Family fan that sees so much angst potential in Identity RevealsTM, so I'm thinking about the heartbreak Yor will feel after it, when she'll realize that Loid is not as kind as she thought he was.

When she meets him, from her point of view, he's just a widowed father who wants the best education of his daughter, at the same time honouring his late wife's dying wish. Investing in a child's good education is something Yor greatly relates to, seeing how hard she worked to provide one for Yuri. Point one.

She asks him to play the part of her boyfriend, and he immediately accepts; he asks for a favour back, but he's satisfied with only Yor's promise to keep her end of the deal. He's showing trust in her and kindness by being willing to fulfill his end of the deal first, thus risking Yor walking out on her promise. Point two.

Despite being injured - something that Yor fully trusts is an occupational hazard for him (I mean, it is, but not because of the occupation she really thinks of) - he still fulfills his end of the deal, albeit messing up and saying he's her husband (though this doesn't count as much, because it came to Yor's advantage in the end). Point three.

(Remember, at this point Yor doesn't know of Loid's plan to convince her to marry him officially, and that this was why he mixed up his introduction. She just thought he made an unrelated mistake out of rush and being wounded)

Taking the opportunity from Loid's mistake of calling himself her husband, Yor asks him to marry her (again, she has no idea of his actual plans; she only knows he wanted her to pretend to be his wife for the interview and only, and that then they'd part ways). He immediately accepts and actually vows to be there for her in difficult times. Point four.

He welcomes her into his family and home, even giving her her own bedroom and her privacy. He has no demands of her regarding to household chores, praises how clean she keeps the apartment - even in front of a misogynistic guy who has power over them in the interview (and we as the audience know that was not For the Mission, as Twilight immediately goes like "Wait why am I getting worked up over this") - he trusts her input when it comes to raising Anya, shows genuine happiness and praise when she makes a tasty meal for them, all of that culminating in the bench scene where he openly and emotionally praises what she fears is a deal-breaker flaw of hers, her physical strength. Point five.

He accepts her eccentric brother that she adores, and after the messy meeting they had with him where said brother left cursing at Loid left and right, Loid is not only understanding, he also opens up about how he envies her relationship with Yuri (and again, we the audience know it's an honestly vulnerable moment for him; not a For The Mission thing). Point six.

So overall, she gets the image of a kind, trusting fellow who is willing to help her despite there not being any (obvious) gains for him outside having a wife stand-in for the interview. To her, Loid had no reasons to keep up their agreement after the interview, especially after Anya got in the school. But he still gladly keeps it on while doing his best to be a good and supportive roommate... and friend.

Like, we joke how gullible Yor is, and not only when it comes to him. But from her point of view, what with especially hiding from him that she's an assassin of all things, he's just as much if not more gullible.

Through all that, Yor genuinely builds feelings for the Forger family - and unlike Twilight, she's much faster in accepting and embracing them. She has no reason to act motherly towards Anya; heck, she has no reason to even spend time with them when they're indoors. She could just stay in her room all the time and never take part in dining together, helping Anya with her homework and activities (like how she helped Anya train for the dodgeball game) and being by their side in general. In only a few months' time, she's already invested in them emotionally so much that the thought of leaving them terrifies her. She's been truly kind and open with them, and now wishes she can keep her place in the family, and not for her job - but because she truly cherishes that place.

So... yeah. Think how all that will come breaking down when she finds out what Loid's original plan was :)

He wasn't trying to get Anya into Eden to provide for her future, nor honouring his "late wife's" dying wish; it was for the mission, after the end of which he fully intended on abandoning Anya.

He didn't agree to play her boyfriend out of kindness; it was to have a leverage over her so that she'd keep her end of the deal - and god I just thought how she might think that him introducing himself as her husband was intentional so that he'd back her up into a corner later to actually marry him (something we know isn't true, but maybe in a very emotional aftermath of identity reveals Yor could very well consider a possibility).

He didn't accept to marry her because he was being helpful towards her - he was simply advancing his own mission.

Now, we know that a lot of the things Loid praises her for come from the truest depths of himself, but Yor does not have the audience's point of view to see that - when she learns that he's a spy and that he's told her so many lies, she'll have no reason to believe anything of what he's told her is true.

His interest in Anya's future, the trust and acceptance he showed her, his supporting words, his efforts to be a good roommate, the vulnerability he showed her... those are all things that Yor would've admired him for, and from a romance perspective, fell in love with him for. Those will all be doubted by her when she finds out what he really is and it will be devastating.

As many other people do, I doubt Yor will be upset by him having lied to her about his job, because she did the same. The heartbreak will come from her knowing she showed her true self as the wife and mother of the Forgers, while when the truth comes out she'll have no idea who the real man behind Loid Forger is. She trusted him, supported him, protected him, opened up to him, fell in love with him... and then that "him" will be pulled from under her feet to reveal a guy who has been using her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Of course, like the next twiyor shipper, I want that to resolve into Twilight proving to her that the feelings he grew for her and Anya, the trust he showed her and the connection he built with them were genuine, and the family staying together by the end. I JUST WANT THAT ANGST FIRST.

(No manga spoilers please 😁)

#Spy x Family #sxf meta #Yor Forger #twiyor #500 #1k

1K notes · View notes

juuuulez · 4 months

Text

📰 | epilogue: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, 6 year timeskip, cute Judith moments, S10 Negan (aka Negan redemption arc), winter vibes because I wish it snowed where I live.

summary: Six years later, Carl and Reader consider what the future holds.

holy shit guys…it’s over! it’s done! writing this was so weird but also i’m very happy with the ending, and also getting to expand on Carl’s character beyond his death in canon was amazingly freeing.

i’ve got some requests to catch up on, but feel free to ask for stuff in the Capulet-canon! i’ll definitely go back to this and do little spinoff oneshots because they r very cute.

i hope you enjoy this as much as i did!

-> masterlist <-

Snow crunches under your feet as you treck back to Alexandria’s walls. A thin layer has dusted itself over your hair and shoulders, falling from the fabric of your jacket with each step. Slung over your back is a bundle of game: mostly rabbits, some squirrels, all tied up at the feet.

They’d designated you to checking the traps, a fairly mundane job that was mostly bearable, sans when the weather was this harsh. Having a small amount of freedom was nice at times, where you could be alone with the woods, though you knew someone was trailing nearby, shadowing your every move.

It didn’t hurt that much, knowing they didn’t trust you. You understood. But it sucked that it was these random assholes who hadn’t even been there during the war. Since when did they get a say?

Regardless, you felt relief as you arrived back home, if you could even call it that. The gates opened with a creak, allowing you inside, a familiar scene yet twisted in so many ways.

It had been six years since the war ended.

Six years of living in Alexandria, carefully under everybody’s watch. Of being torn down and scrutinised for mistakes you’d made as a teenager. Not that you’d call them mistakes, maybe that was your biggest flaw, being too prideful.

Someone comes to collect the bounty, to which you hand over the bundle, not before untying one of the rabbits you’d personally shot. That one would make your dinner tonight, besides, you’d been promising Judith a lucky rabbits foot.

The man doesn’t speak to you, though you aren’t offended. You’ve never been a big fan of small talk. In your opinion, there are very few you have the patience to converse with, and as long as they were still interested, then nobody else mattered.

Speaking of people important to you.

In the distance, you could spot Negan plowing snow along the main road that ran through Alexandria. You internally rolled your eyes, knowing that they’d been giving him stupider and stupider jobs recently.

There’s another figure, a young boy, who’s been tasked with watching him. He sits on a porch, a few feet away, kicking at the frosty ground.

“Hey, you wanna take a break?” You ask him, standing in front of the young male. The rabbit is still slung from your shoulder, along with the bow on your back.

He looks a little confused with the suggestion, and maybe offput that you’re talking to him. “No, I’m.. alright, thank you.” He attempts to brush you off, though clearly remains wary, almost unsettled by your presence.

You roll your eyes this time, not willing to continue this pointless back and forth. “Fuck off, okay? Just for a few minuets. Go waste your time somewhere else.” You demand.

Only a second of glaring down at the boy and he’s scurried off, likely to tell someone of your hostility. That’s one benefit, at least, that not many are willing to engage in a physical altercation with you, as they’d all heard stories of the war.

As you turn around, you catch Negan already watching you. A smile spreads onto your face, despite his rugged appearance, and the snow all over your jacket.

“You’re gonna be in deep shit for that one, you know?” He tells you, as if it isn’t obvious, though his tone indicates that he is pleased to see you again.

Lately, you’d been finding Negan more often around Alexandria, usually gardening or doing some other boring maintenance task. Depending on who was around, you were even sometimes allowed to visit him in his cell.

It hadn’t been like that for a long time, though. For the first four years after the war, you weren’t allowed any sort of contact. It was hard, and you’d struggled with bouts of depression on particularly difficult days, but things were starting to look up again.

“I don’t really care.” You shrug, smile turning into a downright grin as you approach. “Can’t make me do anything worse than hunting in dead-winter.”

As you crossed the path, Negan’s smile grew tender. He extended his arm to you, palm cupping the back of your neck and thumb moving the snowy hair from your face.

Though he had many regrets, letting you get caught up in everything was the biggest. In many ways he felt like he’d failed his job, which was to foster and protect a young girl. Yet, time and time again, you were put in harms way.

“What about plowing snow?” Negan sarcastically suggests, leaning on the handle of his shovel. The notion made you frown, straightening out the blue shirt he wore.

“No jacket?” You question, brows furrowed while you looked up at him.

The concern on your face made Negan smile, having watched you grow from a reckless teenager to a conscious young woman. “Nah. I have thick skin, doll.”

Regardless, you roll your eyes, trying to swallow your concern as you look to the snowy path. “I’m gonna ask someone about getting you warmer clothes.”

“I should be the one that’s worried,” Negan points out, “Hunting in this weather? It’s like they’re tryna’ kill you.”

He says it with a slightly bitter tone, genuinely irritated despite the fact that you’ve lived quite comfortably in Alexandria over the years. More so than him, certainly. Yet, the concern makes you smile, regardless.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” You justify with a shrug, “Trust me, I tried to dodge. Been feeling kinda shitty recently.”

“Shitty?” He echos.

“Yeah. Just.. bleh, y’know?”

Negan gives you a stern look, “I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes, not wanting to worry him over something you’d already written off as insignificant. “Just feelin’ icky lately, maybe a bit nauseous. I think this weathers fucking me up.

This causes him to let up a little, though you don’t miss the smug grin on Negan’s face as he continues to shovel snow. “Don’t sound like the weather,” He remarks, “Sure you aren’t pregnant? You and Carl are probably breedin’ like bunnies now you’re living together.”

The vulgar attitude never usually phased you, but this time your brow furrowed, glaring over at the man. “Don’t be gross.” You grumbled.

Luckily, Negan lets up, knowing this may be a soft spot for you. “Fine, I’m just teasing, doll. But you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

“Yeah,” You agree, hoisting the supplies on your back a little higher. “I’ve gotta go get this rabbit skinned. And I’ll see about that jacket, okay?”

In return, he gives you a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up, though you know the emotion isn’t there. It makes you smile. You’ve truly missed him over these years, and seeing the toll imprisonments had on his attitude is jarring.

Nonetheless, you treck further into the community, locating your place. The small house sits near the back end, away from the main commotion, which you’ve grown to appreciate over time. Originally, you stayed there with Aaron, who was tasked with keeping an eye on you.

Then it was Rosita, and occasionally Tara. Back then, you were equally rude and hostile, and made a point to prove your disdain towards the entire situation. Of course, over the years, those walls melted away and you were forced into a state of acceptance.

Now, there was nobody watching over you. At least not in the safety of your own home. With the rate he was over, Carl practically lived there, though you knew he just didn’t like being in his own house with Rick gone. You’d understand how that would be unsettling.

The door creaked when you opened it, the haul causing you to bump it open with your hip. You dumped the bag at the door, and managed to unhook the bow with one hand.

You ventured further inside, intending to throw the dead rabbit onto the back porch to skin it. But you barely made it three steps down before your mission was halted, two arms snatched around your waist and tugging you back into a firm body.

“Jesus,” You huffed, “I didn’t hear you.”

Carl looks down, eyeing the left side of your head, completely flattened with the absence of an ear. “Shit. Sorry.” He apologised, having momentarily forgot in his haste to greet you.

The injury had thankfully healed, but your eardrum was ruined beyond repair. You were completely deaf from one side.

“I’m also wielding a dead rabbit, so watch out.” You remind him, shimming in his hold so that you’re face to face, though you hold the rabbit at an arms length away from his body.

“Then.. is this a bad time to kiss you?” He asks, and though it sounds genuine, the little smirk on his face indicates that your answer doesn’t matter.

You roll your eyes, a smile growing on your own face. Somehow, after all these years, you still get all bashful. “Never a bad time.”

No matter how much time passed, his lips would always feel perfect on your own. Carl kissed you like you were precious, made of porcelain, and the idea that someone was capable of being so gentle excited you. That, and it let you take control, something you lacked in your current life.

You shimmied your spare hand out of the snowy glove, so that you could wrap it around his neck. Lately, Carl had been letting you trim his hair, though you opted to keep it that same shoulder length, thinking it made him just adorable. He wore the bandage less, too, at least when at home.

Coming up for air, Carl pressed another tender kiss to your cheek, holding you a little closer. “Your hand is really cold.” He whispered.

In response, you dragged your palm over his face, squishing the cold flesh into his cheek. He groaned, finally letting go of you, seeeking reprieve from your snowy fingers.

You were finally able to continue down the hallway, though his footsteps followed right behind.

“Do you want to catch dinner with everyone?” He asked, “They’re cooking the rabbits down by the church.”

“I hate everyone.” You point out, bracing yourself against the cold air outdoors. There’s a metal peg hanging from the back porch, which you affix the rope onto, allowing the rabbit to dangle from its feet.

You can hear Carl has stopped behind you, leaning against the back door. “Besides, I think I wanna stay in. Still feelin’ kinda rough.” You say with a shrug.

It’s like a fish on a hook, where Carl can’t resist clinging to every little word you say. “Still? Do you need to see a doctor?” He suggests, worry in his tone.

Trying to ease his concern, you let go of the rabbit, giving Carl your full attention. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s nothing. A cold.”

Carl takes this as permission to dig deeper, wanting to find the root of this issue. He approaches, one hand settling on your hip, the other feeling your forehead. Though your temperature feels fine, he still remarks, “You don’t look like you have a cold.”

“Okay, genius. When did you get your degree?” You quip, the snappy attitude earning you an unamused glare, though it only takes a second before Carl is kissing your forehead, where his hand was.

It irritates you to no end that he’s so forgiving. But over time, Carl has learnt that you get defensive easily, expressed in irritated remarks that can turn borderline cruel. It’s his sign that something is wrong, but he needs to back off for the time being.

“I’ll skin the rabbit. You can lie down.” He suggests.

Your eyes narrow into a glare, not liking the insinuation that you can’t handle it. Though, you’re unable to be properly angry, knowing that he is trying to help. “Thank you.” You end up whispering in agreement, setting aside your pride for the time being.

With that aside, you decided to go and clean up from the hunt. There were little bloodstains on your jacket, so you left it hanging in the laundry for now, intending to deal with it later. Your boots were left at the door, and you quickly walked into the bedroom, intending to wiggle out of the snowy clothes.

Your hair was slightly damp, scalp a little sore from having it tied up all day. So, you padded into the bathroom, hoping to have a hot shower. But the second you looked in the mirror, you remembered what Negan had suggested. Albeit jokingly, but he still said it.

It was like a cruel history repeating itself. Being pregnant was a death sentance, in your eyes. Your own mother had died of birth complications, and that was before the apocalypse. That’s not to mention Lori.

Just the idea made you feel sick again. Scrounging through the bathroom cabinet, you found the beat-up packaging of a pregnancy test you’d stashed after finding it on a run. Just looking at it, all decorated in pink, made you feel worse.

You left it on the counter, hoping a shower would clear your head.

It didn’t.

The test was taunting you, staring at you through the foggy frosted glass of the shower. As much as you hated the notion, it wouldn’t leave your mind unless you got it over with. It was time to bite the bullet.

Still soaking wet from the shower, you fumbled with the box, hands shaking as you read the instructions. Whilst you peed into the little cup, you thought back to all the times you’d been intimate with Carl. The pair of you were relatively safe. But, maybe… maybe there’d been a few times you slipped up.

God, Negan was right. The pair of you were animals. It was like a late puberty, you couldn’t help it, you wanted to jump him at every opportunity. And now, this was your punishment.

A positive pregnancy test.

More like an execution date.

You spend a good ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor, this indescribable weight on your chest. It gets heavier as time goes by, and you convince yourself that you may actually be unable to breathe if this continues.

Pulling on some clothes, you slowly inch from the bathroom, hair and skin still wet, though that doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t tell Carl, but at the same time, you need to.

You come to a stop at the back of the house, and before you can open the door, you notice Judith through the window. She’s sitting on the porch, talking with Carl as he attempts to skin the rabbit. His technique isn’t very good, but she doesn’t know any better. You hadn’t heard her come in, too busy wallowing in your own panic.

She stands, accepting a knife that Carl offers her, attempting to mimic his actions and take a chunk of fur off the rabbit. Judith struggles, not having the right angle, causing an uneven slice through the rabbits thigh.

Finally, you give in, pushing the door open. “You two are gonna butcher my rabbit.”

Judith turns to you, an eager smile on her face. She offers the knife, handle up like she’d been taught, “Show me?”

Though you accept the knife, Carl interjects, “She’s just had a shower, Jude.” He points out.

“It’s fine,” You assure them, rolling up the sleeves of your pyjama shirt despite the biting cold, “I’ll wash off with the hose. Now watch me, both of you.”

You teach the siblings how to properly skin a rabbit, explaining little tips and answering all of Judith’s questions. Though you’d come here to break some terrible news, you somehow find yourself feeling a little better. Watching Carl try and teach Judith something was heartwarming, and you wondered if he’d be this attentive with his own child.

That, and making Judith an aunt would be a gift in itself.

Later that night, you walk Judith back to her house, where Michonne was already waiting for her. She seemed relieved to know Judith was with you and Carl, given the girl had a tendency to investigate into some of the darker cracks of Alexandria.

There was still that one, heavy piece of information weighing on your mind. Though, it seemed to get lighter and lighter as time went on. When it came time to sleep, you were comfortably nestled against Carl’s side, your head resting on his shoulder.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy to blurt out, yet you felt like doing some preemptive damage control.

“Would you ever wanna have kids?” You ask in a whisper, almost completely inaudible.

Given the circumstances, Carl finds the inquiry pretty strange. He shifts a little, laying on his side, so that you’re forced to face him.

“Maybe.” He says, though he sounds a little unsure of himself.

But maybe isn’t a no.

You stay silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed now that you’ve gotten your answer. The silence causes Carl to grow curious, curious as to what has sparked this sudden interest.

“Do you?” He asks, looking you right in the eye, which makes you squirm a little.

Everything points towards your admission, but you can’t force the words from your mouth. So you just lay there, watching him, looking a little pent up and almost slightly guilty.

Fortunately, Carl isn’t stupid. He’s quite attentive, actually, especially when it comes to your health.

That, and he’d already found the empty test box in the bathroom, crumpled into the wastebin.

“C’mon.” He whispers, pulling you back into him, arms wrapped around your form. His hand makes its way into your hair, fingers twirling in the strands, keeping your head pressed firmly against his chest.

Carl swallows the lump in his throat, similarly unable to address the issue at hand. But maybe you’d rather he didn’t. “I love you, okay?” He ends up whispering, words uttered against the crown of your head.

You muster a little nod, shifting to worm your arms around his torso. You mirror his tone, quiet and hoarse, though that weight is finally beginning to disappear.

“I love you, too.”

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #twd x you #carl grimes x you #negan smith x reader #the walking dead #negan smith

160 notes · View notes

justpoliteconversations · 3 months

Text

Breakdown [Isekai!Reader + (Legend x Marin)] (Part 4)

Few things worth having in life are easy to obtain. You just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Another round of fodder for this bin fire.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You expected a lot of things when you saw Legend again after everything that'd happened. Few of them anything good for you. Most involving the cold sting of rejection or the spiteful words of a man who has suffered yet another blow to his already wounded heart. And you were prepared to meet it all with quiet acceptance, because you made a choice and this was your burden to bear.

What you had not expected was for the man to meet you at the door of Marin's room with a disbelieving, hopeful (painfully obvious for all he tried to hide it) expression. His shoulders hunched up in an almost defensive position, eyes rimmed red and swollen with dark eye bags from lack of sleep or tears, you did not know. You dreaded to think it was either.

You most certainly did not expect for him to take a cautious step forward, eyes still locked on Time's, and reach out for you with both hands. Palms up. It was enough to stun you motionless and speechless, looking down at him from Time's greater height with concern. Because Legend was not a touchy-feeling man, and this was definitely out of character for him.

Then it clicked, and you had to grit your teeth to keep yourself from falling even deeper into self-admonishment. It wouldn't do anyone any good here, despite what your heart might believe.

You wanted to glance up at Time's face, to gage his response to Legend's blatant postering (placed squarely in the doorway, refusing his elder brother entrance and demanding your presence). You honestly didn't need to though, the way his large (powerful, deadly, protective) hands tightened on you was more than enough of an indicator of his feelings.

Time thought Legend would hurt you, in whichever form that took. Lashing out in anger at the situation he'd been forced into or the desperation, you didn't know. But it didn't matter. You'd already made your choice.

"Thank you for bringing me, Time. I'll see you at dinner, yes?" You asked with only slightly feigned gratefulness, looking up to meet his eye with quiet assurance. Willing him to see, to understand the words you hadn't said aloud. That you trusted Legend with your life. And if need be, with your death.

The elder Link nodded, face carefully neutral, before leaning forward and-

You hadn't expected to be snatched up so swiftly, nor seamlessly, as though the wind itself had guided you from one pair of hands to the next. Not for the door to be slammed shut immediately after, blocking Time from view before you could properly see his response.

You hadn't expected the deafening quiet that followed immediately after, Legend's lithely muscled body tense under you as he waited. For admonishment. For a struggle. For retaliation. (For Time to kick down the door and snatch you right back out of his arms in a protective rage.)

None of that happened though, simply a tense moment of silence and then Time's heavy (purposely heavy, for a man who could remain deathly silent with full armor) footsteps disappearing down the hall. And then he was gone, and it was just you and Legend and the motionless lump under the covers on the other side of the room.

Legend still hadn't moved, and you were so tired. The short journey here and the tense exchange that had happened just moments before draining you of what little energy you'd managed to store away for this very moment. Your body ached too, like someone had wrung you out and left the bindings on your limbs.

"Hey, Link." You said softly, and he flinched at the sound of your voice, muscles (that you hadn't even noticed were starting to relax) tensing once more. You rested your head against his slim shoulder regardless, close enough to feel the bob of his adam's apple when he swallowed. "Take me to Marin, please."

He nodded once, not speaking. He readjusted his grip on your body (so thin now. so frail even a petit man like Legend seemed to dwarf you), and you were taken aback by just how gentle he was with you. Nearly cradling you in his arms, tender in a way even Time had not been.

And you realized you had misunderstood this man too. For all you knew of them (and thought you knew of them) you'd been misled by your own guilt and self-centered sense of responsibility to truly see this man for who he was.

He took you to Marin's side, no more than a few strides, but to you it was an eternity. He reached down with one hand, you still in his arms, and moved the top cover over to set you gently upon the mattress. You looked up into his face as he softly, quietly, (so damned delicately) tucked you properly under the thick blanket.

He looked so tired (exhausted, haunted) his eyes withdrawn despite the seemingly aggressive curve of his brow. Resting bitch face, as some would say, but that wasn't entirely accurate. Legend was not a man who ever truly rested. This was the face of a man lost in the unrest of his mind, his heart. Pushing forward, when everything in him just wanted to slow down.

The pillows were soft and cool under your head, smelling of freshness and something savory sweet. Recently washed, perfectly fluffed and purposely placed you realized, and your heart ached with the acknowledgment of this man's unyielding heart. His kind spirit. The elegant, delicate weave of his soul etched into every small action his voice could not breath into the world.

The sheets had stayed between you and Marin's warm (skin warm, blood warm, flesh warm, life warm) body. An intentional arrangement, to keep your skin from touching. To prevent the inevitable from happening. To protect you from yourself, and her. Even at the cost of Marin's recovery, and his heart. Unspoken. Unacknowledged.

You saw though. You saw the way he tucked your limp, trusting body into the safety of the fabric. Saw the way his eyes tracked the line where you ended and Marin began, smoothed out the sheets up around her shoulders where skin had once laid bare. Saw the tender curve of his mouth for just a moment as his hand soothed over her covered form.

Saw how he gathered sunset-red hair into his strong, nimble hands and gently tucked the long locks beneath plush (fluffed recently, smelling too of something sweet and savory) pillows. And, with Legend leaning over you (a warm, trusted shadow across your eyes) and his hands in her unruly hair, you saw her.

Marin. Eyes closed lightly in rest, slightly dry lips parted, breathing easily with little huffs of air that snorted with each exhale. Freckles spread across her pale cheeks (pale, where they should be tanned and rosey) and down the bridge of her nose. Freckles on her eye lids too, like tiny stars nestled against the shadow of long, dark red lashes.

Her eyes moved beneath closed lids, dreaming, and your breathing nearly faltered at the sight. Alive. Alive and untouched by the affliction that littered your body. And you were so, so grateful for that. So grateful that when she opened her eyes, it would be her face staring back at her and not something else entirely.

Legend was pulling back, his shadow passing over you. Your mouth was running before your brain. "Thank you for taking care of her, Link." You said honestly. You turned to look up at him, his face hovering over yours where he'd frozen at the sound of your voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."

His face twisted into a nasty expression, his lips pulling into a snarl, brows pinched (his eyes though. his eyes gave him away). "You shouldn't be. I'd have stripped the flesh from you myself if I'd had my way."

"You wouldn't have." You said, tired but with confidence, meeting Legend's eyes without fear or doubt. "You are strong, Link. And so cunning." You slipped your hands from the covers and gripped one of his (it was shaking) weakly. His hand shook harder. "I wouldn't be alive right now if you wanted to hurt me."

His breathing had gotten heavier. Ragged. His eyes darted to the side, avoiding your gaze as though it would tear the soul from him. He wanted to pull away, you could feel it in the coil of his muscles, but he couldn't bring himself to break your fragile grasp.

"I'm sorry Link, for the hurt I caused you." You said, and you could feel the beginnings of tears building on your lashes. Above you, he suddenly looked stricken, staring down at your face with mute horror, and understanding.

You gripped his hand harder, refusing to back down even as your throat swelled with emotion. "I'm so sorry I ever doubted you. You are too good and strong to falter in your convictions. And I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise." The tears fell then, because how could you have fed into that lie. Even if just in the confines of your mind. Just to satisfy your self-righteous bullshit.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Link. I hurt you with my carelessness." Your voice was breaking, tears overwhelming your sight. And all you could do was grip his hand with feeble, desperate strength and push forward. "And you were the one punished for it."

Because who the fuck were you, to cast doubt unto this man's character. When he'd given up everything for the greater good over and over, even when it required him to rip his own still beating heart out. Who gave you the right to ever cast doubt upon his name, when you knew better than anyone just what type of man Legend was.

Thin-fingered hands were suddenly on your face, on your cheeks, rough, calloused thumbs wiping away the tears with gentle hesitancy. "Fuck. Don't cry." His voice choked with emotions you could not see through the haze of tears. "It's just some bullshit that'll blow over."

You shook your head, unable to vocalize the mantra of 'I'm sorry' and 'you didn't deserve any of this' running loops through your head. Your weak, bony hands came up to wrap around his, trying to press them further into your skin. Seeking comfort, even if it was selfish, and trying to give comfort in whatever way you could.

You tried to speak again, but failed. In your mind's eye, all you could see was Marin's peacefully resting face. The soft curve of her cheeks, full and splattered with freckles. The rapid movements of her eyes as she dreamed. As she dreamed.

As she dreamed. Perhaps for the first time in her entire existence.

Finally, with strength you did not truly possess, you managed to push out your confession. Your heartfelt sin. "I'm sorry. Because I'd do it again. Even knowing it'd hurt you." You heart ached with the truth of it.

You liked to think of yourself as rational and considerate of other's emotions. But the truth is, that you will hurt others if you think it will help them in the end. And you will do it again and again, even as your heart breaks. And so too, does theirs. Because you're selfish in your selflessness. You're cruel in your kindness.

And then you'll apologize for hurting them. Like a damned cop out of guilt, for all you claim responsibility of your actions.

Because when you're sorry, you're not supposed to do it again. Because you're supposed to acknowledge your actions as unacceptable and correct the behavior.

And yet. Here you are. Apologizing, and yet refusing to back down from your choices.

You're such a mess.

"Good." Came Legend's voice, shaking but firm with conviction. You finally managed to open your eyes to look into his. Sharp with command even with tears beaded on his lashes. "Because I'd be damned pissed if you backed down just because you got a little butthurt."

You stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked at his words. His resolve. Your tears slowed to near nothing, but cheeks still stained with the remnants, drying under his softly cradling hands.

You blinked rather blankly up at the man. Processing his change of tone. His strength of character. Feeling like an idiot trying to make sense of simple words.

"Ha." He snorted suddenly, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips from his position hovering over you. "You look so stupid right now." He said with light mockery, but his eyes were soft and playful as he did so.

Despite yourself, you laughed. And laughed. And nearly choked, until Legend put a hand over your mouth and rolled his eyes. Looking exasperated, but for the way his shoulders had completely loosened of their previous tension.

He shook his head, looking for all the world like the most put upon man in the entirely of existence. The brows helped sell the image too, much to your tired amusement. "Now go to sleep. You look like you're about to keel over." He snipped. Narrowing his (now dry, but red) eyes with judgement.

You nodded, not having the energy to do too much else. One of your thin hands slid atop the covers, resting over were Marin's own lay beneath the layers of cloth and fabric. The other reaching out and resting gently, hesitantly over Legend's. Fingers resting on his, thumb slowly caressing over his thickly calloused knuckles (should have pegged Legend as a brawler, with those rings of his).

He snorted, but didn't remove your hand. Just accepted it with mild disgruntlement.

But as you slowly started to drift further into unconsciousness, you could have sworn you felt his hand shift, until his thumb was at your wrist. Taking your pulse. Caressing gently against the delicate, vulnerable skin.

It was quiet when you finally succumbed to sleep, with Legend's hand in your own, and Marin's soft snores in your ear. And the warm, sorrowful song of acceptance in your heart.

Legend never had said he'd forgiven you after all. You still had such a long way to go.

'I won't falter. I just have to keep pushing forward. One step at a time. Wait for me, Legend. Marin. I'll figure this out somehow.'

---

The sun was just starting to dip down on the horizon, the long forms of evening shadows beginning their final trek along the lands below. And the people that inhabited them.

From the partially open doorway, somber blue eyes took in the scene laid out before him. Lips pressed into a flat, concerned line.

Legend half bent over the side of the bed from his seated position, head resting against the diminished lump of your body. His hand laid upon yours, his fingers wrapped loosely around your thin (so painfully thin) wrist. And Marin, tucked away in the covers beside you both, your hand resting upon her peacefully snoring form.

His eyes remained pinned to Marin's unawares face, not hateful or angered or mistrustful. Simply worried. And filled with hope and sorrow both.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked back into a single, equally solemn eye.

Time shook his head. And Warriors nodded.

They closed the door quietly. And then they walked away.

In the room, Marin snored. Legend grumbled. And you stayed asleep through it all. Blissfully unaware.

Unaware of the coils of destiny unspooling and reshaping under your hands. And the shape it would one day take.

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #legend x marin #isekai reader #legend needs a hug

102 notes · View notes

broke-art · 1 year

Text

SPOILERS WARNING THIS HAS SOME PRETTY HEAVY SEASON FOUR SPOILERS.

M.k practically dragged you towards flower fruit mountain causing you to stumble a bit.

"So you're saying you unlocked a cursed scroll and were attacked by DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, Nezha, and some other demons you've never seen before?" Tang asked.

"No," M.k released your wrist allowing you to rub away the slight sore spot he'd left from tugging you along so unexpectedly. "I'm saying we were attacked by INK VERSIONS of DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, and all those other ones you just said." He clarified simply as though that was obvious somehow.

You glanced around seeing nothing amiss other than the massive troves of items Monkey king had 'borrowed' in his very extensive lifetime whilst your friends spoke among themselves.

"Well it looks like what ever it was is gone now." You pointed out as kindly as you could without sounding accusing.

M.k dashed about throwing gusts of wind in your face likely without thinking.

"Hey you're right! Whew. No ink demons!" He cheered.

"Hey, I think I found the scroll!" Sandy announced lifting a band of blackened wood pieces rolled together.

"Sandy wait!" M.k yelled as the scroll unfurled.

Instantly black ink spilled from the scroll and thunder clapped.

Sandy released the scroll and the black in absorbed it into it's depths as it grew. Figures began to emerge from the pitch inky depths their eyes shimmering an otherworldly blue that sent a chill through your blood.

"Aight, Tangy!" Mei cheered grabbing Tang and tossing him forward. "You're up!"

Tang stood up and yelled to the mass with what you could only call an empty ultimatum before versions of the gang's ancestors began to appear from the black muck. And just then they attacked.

You released a small scream as the black goo charged at you. The only reaction you had time for was to shoot your arms up Infront of your face when a Jade barrier appeared between you and the goo.

With a small gasp you stumbled backwards flinching as the black liquid slammed against the barrier which never so much as cracked under the barrage.

Suddenly you felt M.k grab your shoulders and yank you backwards just as glowing blue and yellow streaks shot past you creating a barrier of their own.

Just then a large lionesque man stepped past you, M.k, and Mei. He twirled his sword making Mei's eyes go wide.

"Oooo I want that!" She fangirled to herself.

Just then two more figures emerged from the ink a birdlike figure and and elephant one. They shouted simultaneously words you couldn't decipher. But your gaze flicked back to the Lion.

He released a small sigh.

"Forgive me, brothers." He uttered quietly before brandishing his sword. Each swing shot light strands that beat the ink backwards before banishing it altogether. Then he shot out an arm his hand glowing blue.

The scroll took on an aura of the same hue, floated into the air, and a rune appeared above it which seemed to suck the remaining ink back in, then sealed the scroll.

You blinked as the scroll fell into the lion's grasp. His gaze remained on it musingly before both M.k and Mei launched at him slamming into his back.

He slammed into the ground but picked himself up taking his sword in hand.

"Hand over the scroll children."

"No You hand over the scroll!" M.k demanded before Mei corrected him with a whisper in his ear.

"We have the scroll! Now free our friends and we don't have to get physical." He declared correctively.

"You expect me to believe you are not responsible for stealing the scroll despite it being in your possession?"

You listened to your friends go back and forth and basically just watched the lion introduce himself and explain the situation.

Still didn't explain fully but you guessed it was the best you were going to get.

The Azure lion and M.k spoke back and forth eventually coming to the agreement that he and Mei would enter the scroll and retrieve your friends.

"Woah wait?! Are you insane?!" You demanded stepping between them. "We don't even know this guy! He could be using you!"

Azure lion blinked as if taken aback by your comment.

"If we are going to do this, we need to trust each other." He spoke with a gentle reassurance that some how only irked you more.

"Y/n," M.k addressed you stealing your attention. "What other choice do we have?"

You stared at him for a moment. This was insane. You couldn't just trust this lion...man...thing! But then... M.k was right. You had no other choice. And who knew what the scroll would do to your friends the longer they were in there. You breathed out a sigh.

"Fine! But I'm staying here and watching him. Just to make sure he doesn't try anything."

M.k grinned and hugged you.

"Thanks Y/n."

"Alright." The lion smiled at you kindly. "If you wish to stay then I'll need you to stand behind me." He gestured to a spot behind him.

You eyed him warily but walked over. You knelt behind him and if you weren't mistaken saw him smirk before wishing M.k and Mei good luck then releasing the ink which promptly sucked them both into the scroll.

A sick feeling mounted in your chest as he resealed the scroll.

"Now, then all there's left to do is wait." He announced with a tone that seemed resigned. Then he looked over his shoulder at you.

"Y/n, was it?"

Your gaze flicked back to the scroll.

"Is..there a way to check on them?"

The lion smiled then chuckled.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Give me a moment." His eyes flashed with golden light and then he fell very still.

In the moments you guessed he was astral projecting. As his form was similar to his so called 'brother' monkey king.

This chance you took standing and stepping around him so you could observe him more easily.

He had definitive muscle. No one could deny that. He wore a cape and something you could possibly identify as a 'half shirt'.

You frowned.

Something about him seemed.... Insincere. Perhaps not his kindness but something. Something was hidden here. And you were going to find out what.

Just then his golden eyes flicked open causing you to flinch slightly.

He smiled almost amusedly.

"Admiring from a distance are we?"

You felt your cheeks heat but pressed away the reaction, deciding to fold your arms and frown instead.

"No."

His smile remained firmly intact.

"I don't blame you for not trust me. Infact, I count you as wise for such. But still, I have a role to play in aiding you."

"Forgive me if I find it suspicious that you just happened to show up right on time." You shot back suspiciously.

Now his smile fell into a sad frown.

"But I didn't. Your friends were pulled into the scroll regardless of my efforts. Surely, if my arrival was 'right on time' as you say, wouldn't they have been saved?" The information he offered almost humbly.

You sighed. He had a point, a good one at that.

"Perhaps if you gave me a chance to prove myself trustworthy," He smiled hopefully. "Then you could lay your suspicions aside."

You studied him carefully. Nothing about him confirmed your suspicions and something about this was indeed sincere. But what was true and what was false. Nothing in his appearance gave you any clue if anything looking at his muscles was beginning to distract you so you tore your gaze away.

"Alright."

From the corner of your eye you could see him perk up some.

"When my friends are safe, then I'll trust you."

Just then Azure wilted some. It was slight, near inpercieveable, but there. The next instant he was grinning widely.

"Very well then. But...until then-"

You glanced back at him fully.

"Why don't we get to know each other a bit better?" He offered kindly.

Your gaze flicked to the scroll. You didn't really want to sit here in silence until they returned.

"Ok." You agreed sitting across from him.

"Well I'm sure you've heard of me." He grinned proudly.

You allowed your silence to rectify that assumption coupling it with a blank look.

"Ah...I suppose not, but in any case I have introduced myself to some degree. I do believe it's your turn."

You gave a small start.

"Oh...well alright. My name is Y/n L/n technically I'm the grand daughter of the Jade emperor."

Now it was his turn to give a small start his eyes widening quite a bit.

"Oh don't look at me like that." You sighed. "I'm nothing special my mother married a mortal so she was basically cast out of heaven."

Azure hummed.

"I was wondering what power you might possess that would allow you to block the scroll as you did." He held his chin contemplatively. "Are you and your grandfather close?" He rose a brow.

"Not intimately. But I know of him and obviously vice versa." You responded with a shrug.

"How very interesting." Azure mumbled more to himself than you.

"And you?" You urged him to start explaining which seemed to break him from his reverie.

"Ah yes! Well I have many a story to tell, I'm afraid."

You shrugged.

"Not like we've got something else to do."

He grinned then began his story.

As the hours passed you began to be more intrigued by his many stories and admittedly, you were beginning to enjoy his presence.

"Wow, so you defied orders just so that family wouldn't be hurt?" You asked perking up a bit.

"Well of course." Azure replied. "I couldn't very simply let them drown." The sincerity of the statement struck you.

He wasn't lying. Not even a little.

Some part of your heart skipped a beat.

"That's...very kind of you." You smiled.

Azure gave a small start then grew a slightly mischievous smile.

"You think so?"

The low notes of his voice caused your heart to stammer and a flood of heat to rush to your cheeks.

"I-I- you- but- ugh! Of course I think so because it is!" You protested with a huffed.

Azure laughed openly then.

You flinched slightly at the abrupt outburst but relaxed soon after. His laughter was pleasant to listen to.

"Forgive me, y/n." He excused once his laughter died out. "Teasing you is simply an amusement that never becomes tiresome."

Wait never? Seemed a bit early to assume teasing you didn't ever get boring. But you shrugged never the less.

"I can take it. Don't worry."

He grinned.

"Of that I am certain."

Nightfall came and you began to worry. Shouldn't M.k and Mei have finished by now? You weren't sure how friend swiping scrolls worked but you hadn't thought it would take this long.

"Have faith, y/n." Azure spoke suddenly breaking you from your thoughts. "Your friends can do this. They can do it together." He gave you a smile that eased your anxiety some.

"You're right." You nodded. "I can trust them."

Then you continued to wait. Hours slipped by. You and Azure spoke fairly often but as the hour grew later you started to get too drowsy to stay awake.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep because you awoke a bit later to a soft fabric being drapped over your form.

You opened your eyes slightly only to see Azure stepping away no longer wearing his cloak. A thick warmth enveloped you just then and you slipped off into unconsciousness.

203 notes · View notes

saylor-twift · 6 months

Text

(clariondeluna_art on insta, i found on pinterest)

please enjoy this piece of shit i threw together on a whim. Wanderer is called Kunimitsu bc that’s what i named him, sorry if u don’t like it 🤷‍♀️

pt. 2: Good Enough

word count: 3094

Just a Little More

It was odd, yes, but not entirely unpleasant. To speak the truth, it actually was proving quite difficult to find any sort of discomfort throughout the whole ordeal. (Despite the obvious underlying awkwardness at the beginning, of course). If anything, it was hard to keep from grinning like an idiot any time you got a little closer than normal, maybe bumping a shoulder or brushing a finger or two. The butterflies in your stomach only enhancing that girlish giddy sensation you felt every damn time his gaze locked with yours.

The one little aspect that made this little rendezvous odd, though, was that for once it was not of your own accord. Usually, you were the one who (reluctantly, knowing his attitude) would invite him along on your little escapades. And he, who despite complaining every single time without fail, always said yes. You weren’t sure exactly why you kept coming back to him. Your history with the ex-harbinger was far from pleasant, after all. (Yes you do, it’s because you yearn for him in a way you’ve never felt towards anyone before, but you can’t admit that, he’d never let you hear the end of it.) Most of the time, the trips the two of you took together were, unsurprisingly, on behalf of Sumeru’s very own deity of wisdom, informally known as Nahida. Unbeknownst to you, she really only does it because she likes seeing the two of you together, she claims it’s doing him some good. You never complain, you’ve grown to enjoy his presence as a matter of fact.

Now, he was never exactly a fan of being known as an errand boy for Sumeru’s archon, so you knew there must have been some sort of underlying reason as to why he always agreed to accompany you. This theory was pretty much proven true when he showed up, completely out of the blue and completely without reason, to your quarters, inviting (demanding) you to come with him so he could show you some interesting new phenomenon he had recently come across. Of course you were in no place to deny, coincidentally having no plans for that day. But, even if you did, you most likely would have made the time for him anyway. With little more than an eyebrow raise and a shrug, you find yourself taking a rather pleasant stroll through one of the more sunny, open areas of the Avidya Forest with none other than the renowned Mr. Hat Guy. The journey had, as per usual, been rather silent. But not the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl with awkwardness, more so the kind that momentarily takes a weight of your shoulders and, in a way, makes you feel as though you just might belong here.

Walking for several more minutes, the two of you reach a clearing in the forest, where he motions you to follow him up to the top of a rather large hill. Raising an eyebrow at the lack of information given to you, you decide to speak up. “You know, not to pester or anything, but you’ve sort of left me in the dark as to what plans you have for us here.”

“I have informed you, I’m showing you something I have found that I think you will find interesting. Be silent, wouldn’t you rather keep the element of surprise?” He responds in his usual snarky tone that never fails to make you quirk a smile. “Well, put yourself in my position, don’t you think it’s at least a little odd I’m being led into the middle of nowhere with the only piece of information being, ‘I have something to show you.’? Think about it, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious?” You cross your arms smugly, raising an eyebrow towards the indigo-eyed man. You always enjoyed poking a little fun at him. “Oh, so you’re just now realizing that I’m someone you should be a little wary of? I figured you would have picked up on that a little sooner. Needless to say I’m disappointed.” He says in a threatening tone, though knowing him, you know it couldn’t be wrung for even a hint of actual malice. “Hmm… so if I’m correct, then I assume you’re saying I should turn around and leave before you decide to, I don’t know, strangle me to death?” You think you’re so hilarious.

He scoffs, crossing his arms as his brows furrow, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant. “I’m not going to plead and beg for you to stay, but you seemed pretty eager to follow me all the way out here from the beginning. It goes without saying it would be considered a little rude for you to leave now, but who am I to hold you captive? If you truly wish to leave, be my guest.” This causes you to stifle back a laugh because he truly does look so adorable with his arms folded like a child, nose turned up to the sky in a show of faux coolness. He’s trying to seem as though he doesn’t care, but oh he really does, otherwise why would he have even taken you out here in the first place? “You know I’m kidding, if I really wanted to leave I wouldn’t have come out here anyway! I’m sure I’ll be pleasantly surprised once I get to see this ‘phenomenon’ of yours.” You chide, jogging a little to catch up with his quickened pace. He huffs again. Adorable, you think. “Keep your mouth shut, then. Or else it won’t be much of a surprise.” This time you really do laugh, unable to contain your amusement any longer. Making sure to make eye contact with him, you pretend to zip your lips shut, smirking giddily the whole time. He scoffs once more, turning his head and covering his face with the brim of his hat, most likely to hide the very obvious, and lovely, dusty rose that creeps up to his cheekbones, as well as the hint of a smirk.

As he continues to lead you up an incredibly steep hill for what feels like an eternity, (seriously, where the hell does this lead?) your curiosity only continues to grow. At first you didn’t really mind, rather enjoying the peace and quiet, but you soon find that you’re actually not too keen on being in ignorance of his true intentions. Instead of being suspicious, you’re rather agitated, coming to the conclusion that this whole exposition seems to be completely otiose. Drawing in a sharp breath and opening your mouth to spit out some gripe about the current situation, the Wanderer suddenly stops dead in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips. You’d fallen behind him again, now standing a few paces behind. You fold your arms, glancing at him curiously, waiting for some sort of explanation. “Uhm-“

“I believe this is it.” He interrupts.

“Uh, you believe?” You walk the remaining steps required to put you next to him, standing just within arms reach.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“So, this phenomenon you speak of… does it perhaps require some sort of higher consciousness in order to see that I am currently lacking? Or is this some poorly executed joke and you really are planning on doing something unspeakable to me out here?” You quip, (half) jokingly. He sighs, turning to fully face you for the first time all evening. Evening? Wow, you realize, the sun is actually beginning to set. You’ve been out here longer than you had thought. “Well, obviously I haven’t shown it to you yet. As I said before, I only believe that this is the correct location. If I’m wrong, then this will all be for naught.” He turns around, seemingly surveying the surroundings. “And if you are wrong?” You retort, hands on hips. Silence.

…

“I’m not.” He faces you once more, and you can’t deny the flurry of butterflies erupting inside your abdomen the millisecond your gaze meets his, piercing indigo eyes tunneling directly into your soul. He extends his hand, and you swear out of the corner of your eye you see his chest rise and fall as though he’s taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Do you trust me?” He asks in all seriousness, his gaze never leaving yours. “I think so.” You vacillate, placing your hand atop his without much of a second thought. “If you regret this later, just remember it was you who agreed to it.”

“I- huh-? WAI-“ You yelp as he effortlessly scoops you into his arms, one around your waist while the other supports the underside of your thighs, rocketing into the air with the use of his anemo vision at a near breakneck speed. He laughs out loud at your apparent fear, spinning around once or twice just to tease you a little more. You don’t even realize how your fingers clutch the sheer fabric of his black shirt until he finally comes to a standstill, hundreds of feet off the ground. You blink your eyes a couple of times, regaining the moisture after the sharp winds from being shot upward. Looking out in front of you, your jaw goes slack at the sight to behold. Below you is the city of Sumeru in all its glory, the golden buildings appearing nearly ethereal when bathed in the sunlight. The water from the nearby river reflects the colors of the sunset, giving off a gorgeous orange and red rosy hue. He looks at you, and holy shit why do you feel so gooey whenever he does that? “Well, (name)? What do you think? I have to admit, I wasn’t fully honest with my intentions, this was indeed not for any sort of research purposes, but I think it can be considered a groundbreaking phenomenon nonetheless, no?”

You turn your head towards him, (definitely not shocked at how close the proximity is), and can’t help the smile breaking out on your face. Stumbling over your words, you manage to form a mainly coherent sentence. “I- how did you…? The city… how did you know?”

“It’s quite the sight, isn’t it? When I’m bored, I quite enjoy flying over this particular area, and I’ve actually discovered that at certain times of day, when the sun hits those buildings at just the right angle, you get the chance to witness something exquisite. As the enjoyer of all things beautiful that I take you for, I figured it was only fair to share my discovery with you. Care to share your thoughts?” He smirks at you, obviously pleased with himself as well as your reaction. “It’s… absolutely beautiful… Look over there! How can… is this even real?” You laugh in disbelief, pointing all over like an overexcited child. He laughs as well, in fun of you, of course. “How very easy to please. You really are such a child.” He smirks, then stops to take another look at your grinning face, and time seems to pause altogether, because really, this was his plan all along, to get you alone so he could admire you like this. He’s not quite sure when it hit him, but recently he’s found himself all but completely taken by you. He’s always thought you were one of the few people on the more attractive side of things, but over the course of the last few weeks he’s had the odd, reoccurring thought that you were perhaps one of the loveliest things he’s ever seen.

Not only on the outside, but truly he believes, on the inside as well. You were there when he plummeted from the height of his glorified mecha, you were there when he was picking fresh sunsettias for the street merchant, when his mind had been erased of all his past traumas and wrongs and felt as young as it had his first few years of life. You were there when all those memories were oh so harshly returned to him, and to this day you are still here, even though he firmly believes you shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve you, the one who sits next to him when he behaves like a wallflower around the rest of his peers, the one who doesn’t anger at him when he spits out crude remarks, you who soothed him that one night after a particularly achey nightmare, despite his embarrassment and hesitance to look at you afterwards. You, who seems to understand him so very well, to the point it feels as though you’re sticking your hand into his very soul and wrapping his aching heart in soft bandages, and how is that even possible? You’re a mortal, mortals don’t possess that kind of understanding. And yet time and time again, you endlessly prove him wrong. He hates to admit it, it feels wrong, he wasn’t meant to feel this way, hell, it’s the reason his very creator sent him away. But archons, he just can’t help it, he loves you, and he finally allows him to accept it right here in this very moment, when the luminescence of the setting sun so beautifully paints your skin with varying shades of roses and peaches. He isn’t even listening to what you’re saying as his gaze ever so subtlety falls down to your soft lips, endlessly rambling on and on about the scene in front of you, and yeah it’s pretty, he knows that, that’s why he brought you out here, duh. But it’s not nearly as breathtaking as you, and it baffles him that you’re too focused on the goddamn city to realize that.

One

His chest tightens, and he stops breathing. (Not like he needs to in the first place, but it has the same effect that it would on any regular mortal)

Two

His gaze is fully locked on your lips as they open and close.

Three

He waits patiently (very, very impatiently) for you to turn your head just slightly to the side, because for some strange reason, he’s feeling extra brave today.

Four

He bites his lip, maybe it will take a few more moments. You’re very engrossed with the sight he literally brought you out here for, after all.

Five

Oh come on.

Six

He debates on using his hand to turn your head himself if it means he gets to feel your lips on his for even a moment.

Seven

Eight

Nine

Please, please, please, turn your head just a little more…

Ten

You sharply turn your head, in the opposite fucking direction he’s been silently begging for you to do this whole time. You gasp, jutting a finger outwards. “Kunimitsu, look! You can even see the oasis from here!” He instantly snaps out of his stupor, stuttering as you grip his shoulder in elation at the glowing blue tree miles in the distance. “A-ah, I suppose it is. Another wonderful view.” He clenches his jaw, reality giving him a harsh kick right in the gut. Of course you’d never give him that opportunity, he doesn’t deserve it and (according to him and only him,) probably never will. Isn’t that the conclusion he had come to, that you were far too pure and good for a sinner like him? Oh well, a man can dream. Those ten seconds were the most excruciating, and in a sort of odd, deranged way, also the most blissful in his entire five centuries of living. “Let’s go, you need to get home. I know all too well the side effects of sleep deprived mortals, and I have zero intentions of caring for you in the morning.” He spits out harshly, taking out his frustrations on you even though he knows fully that his own emotions are his own fault. You frown, and he swears he’s started to see things because did you just glance at his lips? No, surely you didn’t, his mind is playing tricks on him because of his own previous thoughts regarding you. “Already..? But-“

“Don’t make me parent you. You’ve enjoyed yourself, no? The day is coming to an end, now come on.” He scolds, descending to the ground at a much easier and slower rate than the manner he brought you upwards in. You furrow your eyebrows, instantly sensing something is wrong because that’s just how you are, someone so emotionally intelligent that they can feel when even someone as emotionally constipated as him is feeling out of the ordinary.

“Is everything all right, Kunimitsu? Have I done something wrong?”

“I just remembered something, is all. Mind yourself.”

He sets you down on the grass, taking care to make sure you get your footing before completely letting go because even though he’s frustrated at the fact he wasn’t able to kiss you just now, he’s going to make sure you’re okay. It’s probably a bit childish for him to be acting this way, hypocritical because not even thirty minutes ago he called you a child, but he just can’t help it. He’s been pining for you so hard it actually hurts, even more so that he’s finally come to terms with how he feels. Stealing one last glimpse at the desirable shape of your lips, because that’s all he feels he deserves in this moment. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you back.”

Next time, he swears he won’t hesitate.

he turns and begins to walk down the hill, assuming for you to follow him. You don’t follow him straight away, folding your arms. You know exactly why he’s upset, you know exactly what he wanted while you were in the air, and you mentally punch yourself for not realizing it until it was too late. You absolutely cannot deny that you are in fact, madly in love with the man in the large hat. Maybe you shouldn’t be, he tried to harm you on numerous occasions, after all. He’s not a good person, but archons, he’s so much better than he was before. You can see it in the way he smiles to himself when he thinks nobody else is watching, the way he always makes sure you’re alright after completing your daily commissions, even if it’s in the form of scolding. And you especially see it in the way he looks at you like he absolutely needs you but you just won’t turn your fucking head one more inch for him to show you how much he appreciates your existence. You were a goner before you even realized what was happening.

And next time, you swear, you’ll make sure he doesn’t hesitate.

#wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #felt cute might delete later #kunikuzushi

75 notes · View notes

constant-and-immovable · 1 month

Note

Please tell me your serious thoughts on the Peter Pan crocodile!!

OH BOY. Alright. Okay. Hmmm

So there's a whole lot that I really can't disclose onto what I'm doing with it in The Novel because it plays a significant role in the prequel or sequel I'll tell my publisher I'm willing to write when they inevitably demand another installment, HOWEVER for the function of it as it exists within the story itself....

if I was directing a film or movie of it, I would want to keep it within semi-plausible parameters, but not make it a prehistoric croc.

It's a solid choice! To go with a living fossil like Sarcosuchus or Deinosuchus, because it's "real," but honestly...it's somehow less plausible than one that has simply managed to get to a fuck-off-big size.

Because yeah! I wouldn't want to be ANYWHERE near this thing!!! But I also don't think a kid chucking a hand in the water is going to be enough to bait one this size unless there's already blood/gore/bodies in the water that he's snapping at. True, this is not a story where logic prevails (hi, the acids in the guts of even a modern croc tend to destroy metals: jewelry, pieces of traps, animal tags, etc have all been found in them but VERY damaged/worn down. A clock is nothing, forget how you would hear it tick, it's just. anyway), however I'm not personally a fan of the "Somehow This Dinosaur Survived" genre of beasties, not when there are more things in heaven and in the earth.

SO.

Beyond the clock and the size, there is ...really nothing abnormal about it. The crocodile exhibits pretty standard behavior for a saltwater crocodile, the largest modern species (12-16ft is most common but some absolute monsters have measured in at nearly 20ft, and stories are everywhere about a mythic 25 ft)

If you grew up in the 1990s, you probably remember this guy wrangling them for tracking purposes. You can also see here what I was saying earlier: yes, they have an INSANE bite force, but their jaws aren't that tough otherwise--some rope, even around a big guy, is plenty to make the teeth less a concern. Then you just have to worry about their tails: solid muscle, which can propel them out of water like so:

Maybe he would have some more sympathy for the captain, given that he's also missing his right arm. If you've ever seen pictures of salties before, you've probably seen this one, or other pictures of him. This here is Brutus. He was, as of this image, estimated to be over 60 years old (!!!) and one of the largest living wild crocs. He's thought to have lost his arm to a bull shark when he was younger.

Bull sharks and salties do semi-frequently prey on each other: they both cross territories, though the sharks are primarily oceanic, and satlies (despite their names) are more common in rivers and brackish water. The reason they're called salties is that unlike most crocs, they CAN survive in saltwater. Again, we have a check in the box for old Tick-Tock, given that it seems to go inland on the island with some frequency.

If you've never seen a croc come out of the water before, it's Unnerving as hell. Watch any doc on the Nile, and you've seen a Nile croc (we'll get back to these) seemingly come out of nowhere and chomp onto a gazelle, but with salties it's somehow worse. The water just goes...still when they're gone. Like they were never there to start with.

Going off the book/play, a saltwater crocodile seems to be the most obvious, but again, we're running into size limitations. Reptiles never stop growing, and they certainly don't age the same way a mammal would, but they still do seem to have a lifespan under 100, and rarely break that 20ft limitation (with males typically getting larger than females of similar ages). It wouldn't be genetic impossibility to have one that had something going on in its DNA that made it BIG, at least not as unlikely as seeing a survivor from millions of years ago.

Plus, I do not care for the fact that the croc in the 2023 version seemed to eat anything that moved. It kind of defeats the purpose that this thing is after Hook specifically. And guess what? That's not impossible.

My only thing is...salties are my favorite, they're not related to dinosaurs but you look at this thing and the awe...

Look at him. He's a fucking dinosaur. The croc in the play/book/a film adaptation should, much like the ship, make you immediatley go "CROCODILE!" ...sleek, dangerous, fast, green, with fang like teeth. My brain always makes a crocodile green, and they're really not. None of them are. American alligators, the ones most prevalent in zoos when I was growing up in the US, are more often dark grey or even black looking in the water.

So that brings me back to this guy:

(that's a fish in its mouth, this individual is of a sane size)

The Nile crocodile. Confirmed man-eaters as well (I don't think I mentioned that, but salties are known man-eaters, there are some gnarly, tragic stories out there to complete with the grosses of shark attacks. Do not recommend research in this area), they're more known for this than their salty cousins. How much more well known?

Well. This guy is the responsible for more human deaths than we can even keep track of due to the remote locales they live. While I hate the idea of any wild animal being held up as villain, it's bonkers to me that we fear sharks as society rather than crocs since...Niles alone take down hundreds of people per year, instead of the 5-25 by all shark species combined.

True, they're freshwater beasties, but they can live in MILDLY brackish water. Its not something an animal can readily adapt to within its own life, but give a few generations to the ones that are currently invasive in Florida may eventually be able to cross to the Caribbean Islands.

They also have, and you can kind of see this in the skull structure, even weaker muscles for opening the jaws than salties.

You can put your hands around this thing's jaws (DO NOT. RECOMMEND.) and hold them shut.

More points in his box: Nile crocs had a uniquely nasty reputation in England following the Battle of the Nile in 1798, where crocs came rushing towards the violence and were picking off drowning and injured soldiers and eating bodies as they hit the water.

It was such a horrific sight that Nelson was presented with a gift sword that had one of the coolest design I've ever seen, though wildly impractical:

fabulous. look at that smile.

Anyway, the Nile Crocodile was the 'Jaws' of the mental menagerie of the Victorians. Barrie would have, when picturing a crocodile, very likely have been imagining one of these simply from how they became the stand-in for crocodilia in public consciousness.

Now it does lose some points not just for the saltwater issues, but because they only hit get around 15 ft, and Barrie's monster was big enough to eat a man whole even with some difficulty. In his notes for a silent film, he intended this be be shown on camera and it was frankly more traumatic than the 2003 film ending, of a mere snap of the jaws.

Side note: the 2003 crocodile is still under 30 ft, as is the 1953 one, it's just the skull/mouth proportions that make them seem MUCH bigger. Just like with sharks, the jaws of even a 20ft individual are going to be a LOT smaller than most people imagine.

The 2003 one works well enough, despite not seeing it very much (I have a WHOLE other essay on that--most of the set/props of the film we only get in small glimpses, giving it a dream/memory like quality where you fill in the blanks of a lot of what you think you're seeing. the croc included) but I kind of hate it's cartoony face:

Genuinely, what the fuck is this thing even supposed to be. I appreciate that it looks almost demonic, an exaggeration of a crocodile--just as the ship was an exaggeration of a pirate ship, everything on the 2003 Neverland was taken to story-book extremes, making it seem all the more like a dream/tied to the imaginations of the kids.

MEANWHILE...Their concept art was better; this thing at least looks more like a croc than...whatever that thing was.

And of course the 1953 one is goofy, the entire movie was...well. Cartoony. The SyFy crocodiles fail to really drive home the scariest part of them, that they're intelligent enough to stalk an individual to the death, same as the 2023 one did: despite the whole "no one is safe from this thing" element that should raise the stakes, its just...not the same. [Though I HAVE seen an adaptation where the crocodile was after everyone but Peter and his friends, since it was HIS PET...the whole adaptation kept trying to keep the show from being too scary but ended up being one of the most disturbing Peters I'd ever seen].

All in all, despite the fact that I firmly believe a monster-sized Nile was the original vision, I'd be going with a salty, but the first time we see it, it would be covered in a slick of algae or weeds, giving it the green look everyone always pictures/draws/designs:

this isn't Brutus, but the guy on the left has a damaged right paw too--it's actually a fairly common sight on larger crocs, to see missing paws/damaged limbs from their various encounters with other predators, trespassing crocs, or boats/traps.

I had also put some thought into the possibility of a Cuban crocodile, American crocodile, and the Orinoco crocodile--the last of which may have once had expanded territory into the Caribbean, and historically had sailors claiming to see 20ft ones, although they typically measure smaller (and lighter) than salties today, under 15 ft.

Still, all this is irrelevant because peak character design for Tick Tock has already been reached:

I still haven't seen the movie, and I don't give a damn that this stupid thing was designed to sell toys, I have one that lives on my work desk and my evidence for why he's the superior Tick Tock is simply that he is the Bestest Boy.

(concept art by Sona Sargsyan, I didn't see a credit anywhere for the concept art/promo image of the 2003 one)

Look at him. If this thing gave me those eyes and asked for a snack I'd start cutting off pieces of the captain myself. I mean not really, that's a bit bloody but you get the idea.

#peter pan #annie writes things #long post

41 notes · View notes

hezikas · 1 year

Text

You Are the Right One

Dad!Aegon II Targaryen x Nanny!Reader (modern au)

Summary: Following a devastating event involving his ex-girlfriend, Aegon is now a full-time single father to his daughter. However, with a jam-packed schedule due to his ongoing tour, he's struggling to balance his parenting duties with his high-profile career as a musician. To ease the burden, Aegon heeds his sister Helaena's advice and hires a stay-in nanny. But what he doesn't realize is that this decision will have unexpected consequences that will turn his life on its head.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Chapter 1 posted!

Sneak Peek

╰┈➤ Aegon had always been a busy man. He had risen to fame as a talented singer, earning a legion of fans worldwide with his soulful voice and electrifying performances. His schedule was always jam-packed with concerts, interviews, and tours, leaving him with little time for anything else.

But everything changed after a tragic incident with his ex-girlfriend. Aegon suddenly found himself the sole caretaker of his daughter, Ilyanna, with little experience in parenting. He struggled to juggle his duties as a full-time dad with the demands of his music career.

His sister, Helaena, noticed how overwhelmed he was and knew he needed help. She suggested that Aegon hire a stay-in nanny to assist him with taking care of Ilyanna. At first, Aegon was hesitant, but he eventually relented, realizing that he couldn't do it all alone. With Helaena's help, he hired a nanny and hoped that she would be able to help him balance his responsibilities as a full-time dad and a famous singer.

And that’s how Y/N came into Aegon's life. She was a young and enthusiastic woman who was in the midst of finishing her studies. Having lost her job as an assistant in a local pediatric clinic due to cost-cutting measures, it was obvious Y/N needed a new job. Despite her exceptional skills in handling children, her previous employer had to let her go.

With rent just around the corner and her savings not enough to last her another month, Y/N found herself desperate for work. With no plans to return to her parents' house, she scoured every job listing available, from waitress positions to anything that paid enough. Y/N prayed that she would find something that day, and the gods seemed to have heard her prayers when she came across a listing for a stay-in nanny with a generous salary.

End of sneak peek

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A little note: To be frank, I hesitated to share this story because I lacked confidence in my writing, and often kept my ideas to myself. However, I decided to take a leap and post this light-hearted fic, inspired by my recent obsession 'The Nanny' - a book I devoured in just three days, and which helped me overcome my reading slump. The idea of creating a similar story, but with a dad!Aegon, had been on my mind for a while, and I felt compelled to write it down. *Fingers crossed* chapter 1 will most likely be posted within this week.

#Heavily influenced by Lana Ferguson’s ‘The Nanny’#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

322 notes · View notes

pearlsandpemberly · 1 month

Text

being seen - kageyama tobio x hinata shouyou

Summary:

Hinata is mute but that doesn’t stop him from being the loudest person in the room. Kageyama is the idiot who always knows what he’s saying.

Genre: Fluff

POV: Third Person

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55230229

Note: I'm simply vibrating with excitement waiting for the film so I rewatched all of Haikyuu and remembered this pairing <3

Hinata Shouyou doesn’t need to talk to make his presence known.

Or, as Tsukishima sometimes says, Hinata is the only person who can be so obnoxiously loud whilst being unable to speak.

The middle blocker of Karasuno is lightening in a bottle and every player and volleyball fan is in awe of the short redhead. Within the first minute of meeting or observing Hinata, it becomes obvious that he’s not quite like his teammates: his gestures and facial expressions are larger than life, his enthusiasm radiates off his body as he shakes with excitement, and his determination is so present that anyone can taste it. However, sometimes his hands form signs, more fluid and complex than the silent signals some players keep hidden to their teams when in play; his mouth doesn’t move the same way everyone else’s does when the team bow in thanks at the beginning of the game, though he bows deeper than anyone else; and the only sounds that leave his lips are the occasional cries on court or joyous laughter.

But it doesn’t matter, because on the court, Hinata is the loudest of them all.

He’s a blur of blue and orange, trainers squeaking as he runs and jumps, flies, spiking the ball with such vicious speed, the slam echoing before the other team has caught up with the play. Karasuno yell and clap each other’s hands and backs, but Hinata’s bright eyes and wide grin outshines everyone else’s glee. When they win, he’s takes to jumping on all of his teammates, pummelling them with his fists and accepting high fives – when they lose, he’s trembling with a mixture of emotions, but his determined expression only seems to intensify, despite the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Rival players seem intimidated when they come to shake the middle blocker’s hand at the end of the game, unable to look away from Hinata’s unnerving stare that encourages challenge beneath the haze of heartbreak.

Everyone talks about Karasuno’s number ten; it’s hard not to. No one says a bad word about him, and even if they were to dare, they would have to bypass Karasuno’s number nine first.

Kageyama Tobio remembers the first day he met Hinata.

The last year of Junior High and the last tournament Kitagawa Daiichi’s volleyball team would play. Yukigaoka’s team had meant nothing to him as they walked onto the court and took their positions. Their number one had been so short that it made Kageyama snort with mirth, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated by how his teammates talk to him without him having to say a word, his hands making all the conversation.

It had been a quick game filled with easy rallies and unsatisfactory wins, but their anomaly had harboured all of Kageyama’s attention. Their team had no place at the tournament, and neither did their small captain, but the boy had shown potential that made Kageyama’s blood boil. The way he had jumped like he had wings made his jaw drop but the way he had persisted even when all was going downhill for his team made Kageyama bristle with rage.

He remembers grabbing onto the netting and yelling at the boy, asking, demanding, pleading to know where he had been and he hadn’t looked at him. He remembers the same boy standing on the steps, looking down on him with tears streaming down his cheeks and staring at him with the same fire that has burned within Kageyama for years.

And Kageyama remembers seeing the boy again on his first day at Karasuno, and felt the fire reignite.

Hi! My name is Hinata Shouyou and I’m mute. I have apraxia that affects my speech, which basically means my brain won’t let me talk. No questions are stupid :)

Hinata holds up the pad in the gym when he meets his seniors and again when he properly meets the other first years. Everyone reads and nods, some with a nervous uncertainty, smiles either encouraging or weak. The less skittish members like Tanaka ask for further clarification and Hinata scrawls his answers down without hesitation.

Whenever they first meet a team for a practise match, Hinata holds up the same writing, grinning from ear to ear. The young men are, for the most part, always kind: the second and third years treat him as well as any of his other teammates; the first years rope him into conversation with ease after the games. Kenma from Nekoma gravitates towards Hinata, their silent exchanges bringing Kenma’s team to tears seeing him finally make a friend. Aone from Date Tech, another player with few words to say, always gives his time to Hinata when they cross paths. Even their more ‘extreme’ rivals like Oikawa never use Hinata’s condition against him, sticking to insults regarding the team and his less-than-perfect volleyball skills.

Overall, most introductions go well.

Kageyama’s didn’t quite go that way.

“Swallowed your tongue, have you?”

It’s the first thing Kageyama says to Hinata because the silence between them has stretched on beyond his usual threshold of comfort since his serve had been interrupted.

Immediately shame begins to crawl up his neck and twist in his abdomen as he watches the boy in front of him go red in the face as his mouth quivers slightly. Kageyama doesn’t get an answer but instead watches the boy stalk up to him, standing on his tiptoes as he reaches into his jacket pocket to whip out a book and pen. He skims through pages covered in writing to a blank one and begins to scrawl furiously. The pad slaps Kageyama in the face as he holds it up.

Why are you here??? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? You aren’t supposed to be here, this is MY place and MY time!!!

Kageyama pulls his head back, squinting his eyes to look at the chicken scratch on the page before his eyes flicker back to the boy. “What, you think I can read that shit?”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying these things, he knows it’s ridiculously rude, but it’s out before he can do anything to take it back. The boy doesn’t seem overly deterred, simply pushing the pad against Kageyama’s face again. Kageyama bats it away, snarling with irritation.

“Why does it matter why I’m here?” he says. “Why are you here?”

The boy’s eyebrows rise and disappear under his hair as he looks at Kageyama like he’s the biggest moron in the world, nostrils flaring as he starts writing again.

Because I’m joining the volleyball team, idiot. Why else?

“You? Seriously?” Kageyama scoffs. “I doubt you’ve improved over the past several months to earn a place here.”

Fists clench at his sides and the boy’s eyes flash with an almost satisfied determination. It’s the same look that Kageyama remembers at the tournament and the fire within him is stoked again.

The argument that ensues is hardly one-sided and the boy barely uses his pad to fight back. It isn’t until the second and third years come in that Kageyama remembers his name.

Hinata Shouyou.

After they’re kicked out of practise, Kageyama thinks better and holds his tongue, despite the various prods and pokes that Hinata bombards him with as he circles around outside the gym. Wrestling with his growing concern that he won’t be allowed into the team and the irresistible urge to punch the very person threatening his spot on the team has Kageyama ruminating so intensely that he begins to lose himself in his emotions and miraculously gains the ability to block out the annoyance.

That’s until Hinata grabs the back of his jacket and shoves the battered pad back in Kageyama’s face, the metal rings almost catching him in the eye.

“Watch it, jackass!” Kageyama grunts, ripping it out of Hinata’s hands and crumpling the paper, tearing several pages clean off and throwing the rest to the ground. “Like I can be on a team with someone as unbearable and useless as you.”

When he makes eye contact with Hinata, he sees his eyes go hard and his shoulders tense. Kageyama braces himself for a punch to the gut – or the face – but the contact doesn’t come. Instead, Hinata closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, turning on his heel in a circle as he appears to count in his head.

Kageyama looks back to the ruined paper on the ground and grits his teeth, shame eating at his insides. He looks to the torn pages in his hand and unfurls his fist, eyes scanning what he had initially been presented with.

Are you going to stop stewing like a baby or are we going to actually do something to get on the team?

‘Baby’ and ‘do’ are underlined pointedly, but Kageyama’s gaze sets on another word.

We.

They have to be a team – Daichi hasn’t given them another option – and Kageyama currently wants to murder the one person keeping him from volleyball practise. But Hinata is all Kageyama has.

Kageyama looks back up to see that Hinata’s stopped spinning and is facing him with his eyes open and dead set on Kageyama’s face. That determination is back and more fervent than before and Kageyama realises that Hinata has probably faced more crap in his entire life than he’s been throwing at him for the past half an hour. And if he can face all that and still be as obnoxious as he is, then there can’t be much that will stop him.

Perhaps he’ll be the key.

Kageyama stuffs his hands in his pockets and squares his shoulders. “You barely got any skills to back yourself up,” he says, unable to quite dispel the gruffness of his tone. “So you’re going to have to put in a shit-ton of work if you’re going to help out.”

Hinata’s mouth pulls to the side and he nods once. He blazes and Kageyama suddenly finds him hard to look directly at.

The team pick up elements of sign language as they train more together.

Hinata sticks to the pad when he needs it, though it doesn’t come up in practise much; they all get by with mostly nodding as the second and third years give him tips. However, Sugawara approaches him early on and tentatively signs something, and everyone sees how Hinata’s eyes light up as he signs back, his movements as fast as his quick plays on the court. Sugawara rubs the back of his neck and confesses his understanding isn’t perfect, but Hinata doesn’t seem to care.

From that moment on, everyone begins to try and learn.

The court phrases come first: ‘nice receive’, ‘one more’, and variations of ‘all right’ or ‘well done’ get picked up quickly. Then the insults: Kageyama is pretty sure that the only thing Hinata bothered to sign to him for weeks has been ‘idiot’. Basic greetings and pleasantries become easy to understand given different contexts (and to whom Hinata extends those pleasantries to) – Kageyama doesn’t need anyone to tell him that Hinata is saying ‘please’ over and over again, begging to be tossed to. Tanaka asks to learn all the curses, but Daichi shuts it down immediately, though it doesn’t stop everyone from finding out a lot when Hinata gets in a fight with Tsukishima later that practise. The hand signals that Sugawara uses adjust slightly with Hinata’s help, and they add more, which helps broaden the conversation on court without giving away too much to the opposition.

Not everyone gets there immediately, but Hinata doesn’t have to rely too much on writing things down because there’s one person who just knows straightaway, and it’s both surprising and understandable that it’s Kageyama.

It’s not easy to tell if Kageyama knows exactly what Hinata’s signing, especially if it becomes long-winded or is simply too fast to comprehend, but his response always seems to be in the right vein. Most of the time, however, Hinata’s hands don’t even move and they still have a flowing conversation, though they still default to bickering most of the time. Daichi’s constant demands for the pair to stop arguing stops feeling oxymoronic very quickly.

What fascinates most of the team is that Kageyama, stubborn and bristly and headstrong as he is, never speaks for or over Hinata. He scolds him for missing his sets, he berates him for receiving poorly, and he fights with him more than anyone else, even Tsukishima, but he never interrupts him if he’s signing, waiting patiently to then yell and tell Hinata that he’s the idiot and his idea is stupid.

After two months, the notepad becomes obsolete in the gym.

The volleyball smacks the ground, each hand missing it as they dive to save it.

Aoba Johsai’s cheers continue to echo in Karasuno’s ears, even as they line up and shake their hands. They file out of the room and barely pass comment to each other as they individually begin to process their loss.

They aren’t going to Nationals.

The team step outside and go to the water fountain before being called back for a meeting, but two members linger back. Takeda notices that their first-year duo is absent and turns back to find them when he hears it: a strangled yell of frustration and anger.

Rounding the corner, the teacher’s eyes widen when he sees Hinata barrel into Kageyama, shoving him back with all his strength. The setter’s eyes are wide and he stumbles back with little resistance until the pair collapse, Hinata gripping the front of Kageyama’s shirt with his knees either side of his hips.

Hinata’s still yelling, his brow furrowed and eyes creased with emotion, chest heaving. With his free hand, he starts to sign and Takeda can’t really see what’s being said, but Kageyama’s features contorts with upset and a twinge of guilt. Water runs from the black strands down his face in a way that could make it look like he’s crying. Their breathing seems to sync up as they stare at each other – Kageyama reaches up to Hinata, his fingers trembling as they come up in between them.

A jolt passes through Takeda’s chest when he sees Kageyama form a sign.

“I’m sorry.”

A breath seems to catch in Hinata’s throat as he stares down at his teammate. His back begins to tense and his grip on Kageyama’s shirt tightens as he appears to prepare to start arguing again.

Takeda quickly steps forward and calls them back to the meeting, sharing what kind words he can muster whilst knowing that there’s nothing he can really say to alleviate the boys from their disappointment. They unravel from each other, standing slowly to follow him back to the rest of the team.

The teacher turns back to watch them trudge along – Kageyama’s hand has found its place on Hinata’s shoulder and is gripping onto it tightly.

“Do you really know what I’m saying all the time?”

Kageyama tilts his head as he walks alongside Hinata, his eyes always watching. Hinata looks a little awkward, his lips scrunched up and shoulders creeping up to his ears with an undetermined tension.

“Pretty much,” Kageyama says, shrugging. “You’ve never told me that I’ve gone wrong before – have I at some point today?”

“No, no!” His signs are almost forceful. “It’s just surprising that you know so much so quickly – Sugawara’s impressed because it’s still difficult for him. But you’re so good at it.”

Being complimented so directly by Hinata isn’t common, so it makes Kageyama’s face grow warm. “Why are you so surprised?” he asks.

“Because you’re so bad at anything that isn’t volleyball.”

Kageyama bristles, giving Hinata a pinch on the back of his neck, to which Hinata hits him back. “Idiot!” he barks, signing it himself to emphasise. “You’re just as bad as I am!”

“Get off, get off!” Hinata stumbles, almost knocking into his bike which Kageyama is pushing along with one hand. “It’s not a bad thing, but it’s weird because your English is terrible and I don’t get how you don’t seem to have a problem with sign language at all.”

“My English is just fine,” Kageyama says hotly. “I don’t know, sign language is visual, so maybe that’s why it’s easier.”

“It’s not just that though.”

Hinata’s face has screwed itself up again and for a second Kageyama considers that he may be constipated. He doesn’t push anything, continuing to walk along to the corner where they usually depart, and when they reach it he pauses, waiting for Hinata to ask for his bike back.

And eventually, Hinata looks away from the concrete back to Kageyama. “You know things that I’ve never taught you or the rest of the team. You get things that I’d never expect you to get. Sometimes I just throw stuff at you and you just know it, which is great, but…I just don’t understandt. Are you studying in your own time or something?”

For a second Kageyama blanches. He thinks about the books on his dresser being the only ones he’s bought and opened voluntarily in years; he thinks about the countless YouTube videos he’s watched when he gets home after school; but mostly, he thinks about all the time he spends watching Hinata. Not just his hands, but his facial expressions, his body language, the way he moves, the way he breathes.

He thinks about the way he feels about English classes and homework. He thinks about the way he’s always felt about volleyball. He thinks about Hinata.

His ears are too hot.

“I don’t know,” Kageyama eventually manages to say, but it’s not a real answer. “I’ve looked at some stuff, sure – I mean, it’s not fair on us having to read your crappy handwriting all the time, is it?”

Hinata pauses for a second, and then he laughs. It’s a lovely sound which is too rare in Kageyama’s opinion – that thought dissipates when he takes a light punch to the gut, letting out a grunt as Hinata smiles up at him. It’s blinding, as always.

“You’re funny, Bakayama. That wasn’t hard to admit, was it?” He takes his bike off Kageyama with an odd gentleness, swinging his leg over to perch on the seat. “And I’ve seen your handwriting – you can’t talk.”

“Ironic,” Kageyama says gruffly before pressing his lips together in shame.

Instead, Hinata laughs again. “Heard it before – get some new material.” His face settles into a soft smile, a smile that makes Kageyama’s knees go funny and tongue go dry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kageyama stands on that corner for a while after Hinata cycles away, staring up the hill. A dogwalker jumps when he suddenly crouches and screams into his hands.

Karasuno’s deviant duo are the standout of their team; they always find new ways to surprise people, be them spectators or their own team members.

So, it shocks everyone when they stop talking to each other altogether.

The tension from the practise match hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Tanaka didn’t expect to see Hinata and Kageyama fighting in a way that’s so unfamiliar to what the team are used to. He pulls Hinata back, yelling at them all the way, and Kageyama shouts something before storming out of the gym, spitting his words as he turns his back on them. Yachi whips her head to and from the door and Tanaka, eyes wide with panic and tears. Hinata is still tense in Tanaka’s grip, snarling as he continues to try and break away. “What the hell happened?” Tanaka keeps asking, but Yachi keeps whimpering and Hinata keeps struggling.

Daichi tries not to worry too much when he sees the pair practising on opposite sides of the gym in the morning, but when the silence continues, the concern grows. Sugawara understands without anything being said and follows Hinata out at the end of practise, catching him as he’s changing. Kageyama stalks past them without a word.

“Hinata,” Sugawara calls gently. “You okay to chat?”

Hinata turns with a reluctance, finishing the buttons on his uniform jacket. “What’s up?”

“You and Kageyama…are you two alright? Tanaka told us that you had an argument yesterday.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Hinata signs firmly, his expression hardening. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Sugawara gives him the most understanding smile he’s got, pushing down his own apprehension. “My, my, you’ve never been that eager to get to class before,” he laughs. “I’m almost proud – but you know you can talk to me or any of the others if you need to, okay?”

Hinata slings his bag over his shoulder and looks to him with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. Through the anger, there’s a touch of something underneath that pains Sugawara. “I know. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do!” As a last attempt, Sugawara places a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, it’ll blow over, I’m sure.”

The smile Hinata gives him makes Sugawara feel a little uncertain as he walks away.

Multiple practises pass and it’s the same thing. They’re the first in, doing their own warmups in their own corners; they do the drills and passes with their other teammates as normal, but never breathe a word to each other; and they never make eye contact, though they seem to keep missing each other’s stolen glances.

After their afternoon practise, Hinata flies out of the door immediately, a weird change of pace. Kageyama is always the last to leave, setting over and over and over again as Yachi watches. It’s strange – even in her limited time watching the team, she already knows how good Kageyama is at volleyball, setting especially. Truthfully, she’s not sure if he’s trying something different or doing what he usually does when Hinata isn’t there, but by the way Kageyama swears through his teeth when he misses the plastic bottles, Yachi slowly becomes positive that he’s trying regardless.

One day, she plucks up the courage to just ask.

“Kageyama?”

He looks up, still bent as he places the bottles on the line. “Hm?”

“Um – what exactly are you doing?”

Kageyama straightens, looking at her with his usual scary stiff expression. “I’m just trying something new,” he answers gruffly. “This type of set should make it easier for Hinata to hit.”

“Hinata? Just Hinata?”

He shrugs. “And others too – but it should be good for the fast attacks.”

“Right!” Yachi looks back to the line of bottles – and then she thinks of their shouts and shoves. “So…so why are you doing this without him?”

Kageyama stiffens slightly and Yachi immediately puts her hands up. “I’m sorry! Forgive me, that was insensitive. I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine.”

His tone indicates that it’s anything but fine, yet Yachi knows it’s not because of her. They start their usual routine: Yachi throws ball after ball and Kageyama sets one after the other; sometimes he’s successful, and sometimes he’s not. Yachi’s not always perfect, but he never gets angry at her – only at himself.

When they’re forced to stop by Takeda, Yachi and Kageyama are putting the balls away when Kageyama suddenly speaks.

“He was being stupid, but he was right.” Kageyama looks into the cart of volleyballs, mouth barely moving. “He deserves to fly on his own. But, right now, he can’t do that without me – or not with the method we’ve been using. He deserves that chance.”

Yachi swallows, staring up at him nervously. Kageyama doesn’t say much and never like that, but she believes every word. “You know, he’s practising too,” she says quietly. “He told me.”

Kageyama sighs and pushes the cart. “I know,” is his reply.

She doesn’t ask how.

Things stay mostly the same when they go to Tokyo for the training camp, and the team despair in silence as the pair start to play together in the practise matches but still keep their interactions minimal. But then, they get it.

Kageyama’s set syncs perfectly with Hinata’s hand and the ball slams down past their opponents, everyone’s eyes widening at the speed and sound. Karasuno cheer and then sigh with relief when Hinata bounds towards Kageyama with the biggest smile anyone had seen in weeks. Kageyama isn’t smiling, and they immediately begin to bicker again, but it’s been so long since they’ve done it that no one cares.

After all the matches are finished, the teams start their cooldowns and out of the corner of her eye, Yachi spots the pair – they’re standing opposite each other a little bit further away from the others. Hinata is signing and it surprises her to see that Kageyama is signing back rather than talking. Curiosity is a bit too overwhelming because she knows she should probably look away.

“Huh.” A voice behind her makes Yachi jump and she turns to see Tsukishima and Yamaguchi eyeing them as well.

“What?”

Yamaguchi smiles. “Never thought I’d see the day Kageyama apologise to someone.”

Yachi gasps. “He did?”

Surprisingly, Tsukishima chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “Not quite,” he says. “He stopped halfway.”

“What are they saying?”

Again, she’s surprised that Tsukishima responds. “Both kind of tried to apologise and backed down when they saw what was happening. Now they’re arguing about not needing to apologise.” He squints and then smirks. “Hinata just asked what Kageyama thought of his spikes – yeah, Kageyama’s not going to answer that.”

“I can’t believe you can keep up,” Yamaguchi mutters, his eyebrows knitted together. “It’s still a bit of a blur.”

“It bodes well for the future.” Tsukishima pauses and his eyes widen slightly. Yachi notices.

“What?”

He looks away and adjusts his glasses, mouth trembling as if he’s trying not to laugh. “What morons,” he says, mostly to himself, and goes back to stretching. Yachi turns to Yamaguchi, who is also struggling to control the curvature of his mouth and decides not to press further. Her gaze drifts back to the pair and, even across that distance, she can see the softness in Kageyama’s expression.

The bus journey home is quiet, most of the boys sleeping from the exhausting week. Hinata and Kageyama are sat on the same bench, a welcome sight. Ukai glances back and sees that Hinata has fallen asleep with his head on Kageyama’s shoulder; Kageyama’s eyelids are half-closed, chin touching the red hair.

Everyone has heard Hinata shout. Multiple times.

As his time on the team has gone on, Hinata has become less conscious of the noises that he makes. The grunts and groans when a ball smacks him in the face rather than his arms are plentiful; the laughter that rings out when a play goes particularly well is infectious; and the cheers when his teammates do well are incredibly encouraging. The only time people get lost is when Hinata tries to describe some court moves with his ridiculous onomatopoeias, but only other like-minded individuals (or ‘freaks’, as Tsukishima puts it) understand.

Hearing Hinata cry out triumphantly louder than anyone else when he scores the final point against Shiratorizawa, even louder than the third years, is the best sound in the world.

Hearing Hinata try to stifle his sobs as he pleads to Coach Ukai to keep playing through his fever is one the team hope never to hear again.

“So, what’s the deal with them?”

A group of the new first years stand and stare at the two arguing second years. It’s the end of practise and the awe they feel around the insane Karasuno duo isn’t exactly waning, but rather is now accompanied with…confusion.

Everyone is still adapting to the energy that comes with the addition of the young and the loss of the old, and it’s still not exactly smooth going. It also doesn’t help that in an instant, the scary setter and the boisterous spiker have gone from working in incredible sync to shouting at each other. Well, one is.

Some of them have seen their matches before and therefore have seen their petty squabbles and joyful interactions on the court, however seeing it up close only makes it all the more strange. A fully fledged conversation is happening and it’s no mystery as to what’s being talked about, which is both extraordinary and mildly dumbfounding.

At all three practises, something like this has happened – but then, they’ve also witnessed their incredible fast attacks, their early morning races to the gym, and their joint departure up the hill whilst the setter pushes the spiker’s bike so he can talk with ease.

It’s the only time when the setter doesn’t look so menacing.

One first year is brave enough to ask what everyone is thinking. It’s supposed to be just to the other first years, but the team’s libero bounds over.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” he says cheerily. “If it’s ever too out of hand, either the captain or the coach will tell them to stop.”

The first year flushes but presses anyway. “Yeah, but I mean…like, do they have a psychic connection or something? I mean, he’s not even signing right now.”

“They’re just on the same wavelength of stupid,” someone mutters behind them, and the group turn to see the blond middle blocker staring at the pair with a tired expression. The libero laughs.

Another first year cocks his head to the side when he sees the spiker grab onto the setter’s face and squish his cheeks together. The setter splutters but stops his tirade; his cheeks go bright red and his expression smooths out. The spiker smiles at him widely and goes to pick up a discarded volleyball.

“Weird,” he says to himself.

The setter suddenly looks over to the group and his eyes bore into his with such intensity that the first year wishes he could be swallowed whole.

“Kageyama!” the coach barks, making everyone jump. “Don’t look at people like that! I’m not having you scare off the newbies.”

The setter breaks eye contact and mutters an apology. The spiker karate chops him on the head.

That same first year wonders if they’re something else going on but knows better than to voice that thought aloud.

They’re constantly touching in one way or another.

Mostly, it’s through casual violence: punches, kicks, bouts of wrestling, and general roughhousing. Then there’s the congratulatory gestures: the high fives, the fist bumps, the pats on the back in group hugs.

And then there are the rarer instances of cautious affection.

Kageyama will touch the top of Hinata’s head, tousling his hair as he does. Hinata will interlock their fingers if they do a double high five, shaking their joint hands with glee. They’re glued to each other’s sides in timeouts, on the bus, during the end-of-day debriefs.

On and off court, their eyes find each other first. Every time.

And every time, it’s like Kageyama is a blind man getting his first look at the sun.

Hinata huffs and tugs on Kageyama’s sleeve. “I can cycle home in the rain – I do it all the time.”

Kageyama shakes his head, holding his umbrella over the two of them. “No way, I’m not having you come in tomorrow with a cold that will spread to the entire team and ruin the training week. It’ll clear up in a minute.”

He’s been saying that for fifteen minutes now, but Hinata doesn’t complain further for now, fingers still holding onto Kageyama’s jacket. His bike is propped up against a tree behind them and he keeps turning to check on it, despite not having seen any other people walk by in a while. They had been travelling back from Yamaguchi’s house after a mildly disastrous studying session, and whilst they are most likely in a better position than they had been the last year, the threat of failure and retaking tests hangs over the pair similarly to the dark clouds above them.

Another tug. “You’re being quiet.”

Kageyama glares at him. “I’m always quiet.”

“Yeah, but you’re being weirdly quiet.”

“So?”

Hinata looks at him with that annoying expression; eyes too wide, eyebrows raised too high, lips pressed together. Kageyama gives him a shove but Hinata grabs onto both of his wrists, getting up on his tiptoes and staring into his eyes. The umbrella wobbles dangerously and Kageyama just manages to hold on as his heart lurches at the proximity. A drop of water falls on the top of his head.

“What are you doing?” he manages to ask, voice higher than he wants it to be.

Hinata just stares at him, gaze flitting from side to side. It’s an irritating practise that he’s taken up because he knows that Kageyama loathes eye contact, and yet cannot draw away because he’s always watching him. Hinata lifts one hand and deliberately pokes his chest right over Kageyama’s heart; his eyes soften slightly.

Kageyama sighs heavily. “I…it’s just…” he struggles for another couple seconds. “I am…worried that we aren’t going to do well at the Spring Tournament.”

A beat. And then Hinata pulls his grip away, a laugh barking out from his lips. “Oh, come on! That’s not like you at all.” He pauses and looks away for a second. “Why are you worried?” he then asks, calmer than before.

“I don’t know.”

Unsatisfied, Hinata pokes Kageyama’s chest again. Kageyama tries to glare again, but the effect is lost because it dissolves underneath Hinata’s probing stare.

“I don’t know,” he says again, weakier this time. “Can’t help it – it’s Nishinoya, Ennoshita, and Tanaka’s last chance. And with what happened at the last tournament…I know we’re better than we were then, but it’s so easily lost. So…yeah.”

Kageyama had started mumbling halfway through, but he knows he’s been heard. His eyes train back to Hinata because he always looks, never wanting to miss anything he may say to him. Hinata looks thoughtful, pursing his lips as he rocks back on his heels. And then –

“You’re such a moron, you know.”

Kageyama blinks before grabbing onto the top of Hinata’s head. “You’re the moron!” he retorts, tugging on some of the strands.

Hinata bats him off casually. “Of all people, you’re the last who needs to worry about the tournament,” he signs, shaking his head. “I mean, come on – it’s you! Also, it’s not that it’s easy to lose, it’s just that everyone so badly wants to win. We’ve won before and we’ll win again – even then, it’s just that the other team will win first. But we won’t let that happen – we’ll win.”

Kageyama’s mouth twitches: his hand doesn’t move. Hinata beams up at him.

“I mean, you’ve still got me, haven’t you? So, what do you have to worry about?”

And he does. Because ever since that first day they laid eyes on each other in the gym, he has had Hinata and Hinata has had him, and Kageyama never thought that he would have anyone like him.

Everything’s very hot and Kageyama feels his throat clamp shut against his will – not like he knows what he could say to that anyway. So, he doesn’t talk and takes away his hand from his hair.

“I know.”

Hinata smiles that soft smile he does whenever Kageyama chooses to sign rather than speak. He’s never asked Kageyama why he does it because he doesn’t have to. “Good.”

“Hinata…”

Kageyama’s voice is quiet; apprehensive. His gaze shifts from the floor to Hinata.

A quizzical brow. Mouth slightly turned up at the corners. Those blazing eyes.

The umbrella collapses onto the ground and starts to bounce away, but Kageyama doesn’t care because his hands are on Hinata’s cheeks and he’s kissing Hinata and he hears Hinata make a sound of surprise and relief as he kisses him back, lips clumsy and enthusiastic against Kageyama’s too-stiff mouth, arms flinging around his neck.

Kageyama knows in that instant that he loves all of Hinata’s sounds, that the one’s he’s making now are his new favourites, and that he so badly wants to learn them all.

And he will because Hinata is made for him.

Because they are made for each other.

The duo carry on as normal. No one notices a difference because there really isn’t one – they’re as synchronised and bizarre as usual.

It’s not until Karasuno win the match that will send them to the semifinals at Nationals in their third year, when Hinata jumps straight into Kageyama’s arms and Kageyama presses his face into his neck mumbling words that are Hinata’s alone, does the held breath let out. No one is surprised.

#kagehina #kageyama x hinata #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #hinakage #shobio #kagehina fluff

31 notes · View notes

sshadowritestoriess · 1 year

Note

if u do angst: may we please have Rama, despite the miraculous loving relationship with his dear human reader, being hit with the reality of the mortality of their partner, what he does to cope with it and how he deals with the inevitable loss from natural/unatural causes (i sowwy i wanna HURT) tysm!! ;w;

Aw nooo 😭 I hope I did this one some justice

Ramattra and Morality

“Our lives are short, will you share yours with me?”

When he had asked, the sappiest he had ever been, he had mostly spoken in assumption that he would sooner be forced to shut down by human hand before ever finding out if he even had a lifespan.

But years into his cause, and years into this war he had waged, he was seeing his dream become fabricated before him— slowly, but it was there. And he had hope

You were always there beside him, by some miracle you decided to stay, and he knew you were probably the one thing keeping his sanity tethered to the earth— the one thing preventing him from ensuing mass genocide in his agonizing hunger for justice- no, revenge.

And with you he was seeing his goal come to fruition, a world where omnics could live in peace. He could see an end to the fight

But then he thought, what would he do after? Could he settle with you if the world would allow it? Would that be his life from then on?

And what of you? Is that what you wanted? Would you stay with him still, for the rest of your life?

It dawned on him then, a harsh realization that stung and boiled like ignited oil in his chest. He became awfully aware of the taught wires in his throat, the placement of his vocalizer wrapped safe within them. He would lift a hand to his neck, his mind practically spinning with thoughts of you growing older, and older, until you weren’t there anymore

You would not last forever. He knew this— he had said that from the beginning. But you— You would not last. And that scared him

It continued to bother him for months, though refusing to talk about it.

It was obvious something was wrong, and this made things seem a little off for some time. He was already so kind and gentle with you as your partner, but then he suddenly became sweeter? Gentle gestures became somewhat touch-starved, he’d hold you closer. He was more passionate in nights he spent pleasing you, and far more intense and attentive to whatever you had to say— all as if it would be your last.

It was overwhelming, and you had demanded several times to know what was wrong. But he would lie, and lie again, until you finally turned your head from him and he recognized disappointment.

And so he caved, and his hands would shake as he reaches toward you in a rush to explain. “I do not want you to die.”

It broke your heart, and his. His processor was burning the more he spoke about it, every word he spoke felt forced and stuttered— his vocalizer defensively attempting to restart in the midst of every sentence— and his fans were loud as he tried to stop himself from having an internal meltdown. He could not stop shaking.

This behavior you recognized as crying, for an omnic. You’d never seen him so frantic, you’d never seen him cry.

You could only assure him there was still so much time left for you both, that he had so little to worry about for now. What time he spent in his head agonizing over the passage of time, was time taken from appreciating what he had right now.

He would have sighed and agreed, you were right. But it was so hard to let go— a fatal flaw, of his. He could never just forget.

But he took your words to heart, and as always he took them seriously. Things returned to normal, relatively, but he remained far more eager to spend time with you

He reached a point of hoping that he would not outlive you. How privileged you were as a human, to enjoy life knowing roughly how much time you had to live it. He had no idea. He didn’t want to live forever

He had experienced more loss than most people have on the planet. Approaching a breaking point that not even he knew if he could recover from, how much time and healing it would take if he lost one more thing dear to him

You would get over his death far easier, he believed. And he could happily go to rest knowing you were safe and loved— this was the death he began wishing for

This imaginative dream was what put him at ease. Deciding that, in a handful of decades, he would ensure his passing before yours. Morbid, but it helped. After reaching this decision he could be truthful in saying he felt fine, when you asked. No more lies

You had said he had more time, and he believed that

But unpredictability was a bitch of a factor, and he had lost you so much quicker than he was prepared for. He had just been ridden of his paranoia, and now everything has suddenly slammed on its breaks and shattered him at his very core

An ambush, masses of explosives that wiped out most of his forces, hundreds of his omnic brethren lost in the fire

But he did not search for any familiar metal bodies, he passed the unmoving forms of friends and dared not reach for them. He went straight to you. He collapses to his knees and pulls you into his arms— but he knew better than any other model of omnic what a dead human looked like.

And even while he knew, and stared into a lifeless gaze that would not recognize him, he still shook you and demanded you to wake.

Even while his dream crumbled around him, his ideal vision of the world for his brothers and sisters fading back into nothingness, he still held tight to your body in a grip that would have squeezed the air from your lungs. He wanted you to tell him that he was hurting you, he wanted to hear your voice tell him to calm down, he needed to hear that you were still there

But this treacherous grip that he would never have done to you on a day that you were breathing, evoked no such reaction. He was holding nothing but a body in his hands.

You were a death so wholly undeserved, yet there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way he could have prevented this outcome

But when his comrades finally found him and pried him from your bruising husk, guiding him to somewhere safe, his mind spiraled toward all the possible ways he would have stopped this from happening

He’s pretty sure he hurt someone. Several of his people, actually, for tearing him away from you. He remembers hearing screaming, likely his own.

And then he would be wordless for days, leaning into weeks. He could not lead what was left of his movement. So it moved on without him

He died, too, to the rest of the world: The last ravager lost in a successful ambush on the Null Sector. One human casualty.

He was thankful he had such loyal allies that would carry on his efforts. He could not bear to lose anymore— he had so little left. So Ramattra would disappear for quite some time

But he would eventually resurface from a long period of silence, going first to find the last being who still cared for him, Zenyatta. The monk would only find the shell of what his brother once was, weakening by the moment, struggling to find a purpose for himself

Zenyatta might have known of you, but never met you. Through his brother’s haunting grief for this human, he could easily guess what you might have been like, if deemed so ‘perfect’ by this broken ravager

Zenyatta’s wisdom and company kept him afloat. It was a long road to finally accepting his partner’s death, but from him Ramattra would soon learn to think that you wouldn’t wish for him to suffer in your absence.

He would never be the same. But he would try and find happiness again, for you, believing his brother’s words true.

#overwatch #overwatch2 #reader insert #ramattra #headcanons #ramattra x reader #ramattra x listener #ramattra overwatch #angst #death

177 notes · View notes

helloescapist · 10 months

Text

In Another Life | Sanemi Shinazugawa

Word Count: 5272

Setting: Shinazugawa Sanemi x fem!reader (oiran reader), pining, short

Content Warnings: mentions of gore, abuse, and oiran/redlight district, and language

Summary: After hearing about Tengens success in the redlight district, Sanemi has decided to investigate one himself. His analysis leading him buried memories of the girl he had loved, and that faith had abandoned.

A/N: I am admittedly new to Tumblr, and very unfamiliar with how to interact. Until I figure it out, I just want to express how happy I am to see my work being read, and shared. I really do appreciate each and every one of you.

[Art work is not mine, credit goes to the artist!]

Lights glowed across the district; waves of visitors jostled amongst the path. Lanterns glowed in the growing night, bright enough to daze and confuse the senses. Human instincts humming whispers of slumber, and beckoned sleep snubbed out by the intense atmosphere.

Human instincts humming whispers, and beckoned sleep snubbed out by the intense atmosphere. The night delayed as it masqueraded as the day, masked in the glow of lanterns across the district. Incense and perfumes that dulled the senses, claimed the thoughts of men and women alike drawn by the intimate glow. Lanterns danced in the night air, as waves of visitors jostled along the paths that had been abandoned in the daylight. Buildings that loomed in the sky, grandiose in nature, dripping of the wealth of proprietors. Owners exhibiting their prosperity in embellished fabrics, banners hung intentionally to draw the eye. Windows alit with the readily available oirans. Hair meticulously styled for the run of the mill customer; adorning hairpins and fabrics no longer favored by higher ups. Their very being mere constructions of the tayu classes’ secondhand rejections. Either discarded due to outdated appearance, or simply deemed unfavorable for valued customer classes. Only the luckiest of them having adorned castoff rouge. Farmers and vendors alike appraising them through warped vision; having tossed away thoughts of their wives, partners, and family for the night, willing to overlook the product’s pitiful origins in favor of lust and personal benefits. The merchandize only dared to smile, eyes trained to the ground with the occasional fan pressed against lips. The customers only momentarily distracted from the coos and teases of women on the balcony, hoping to earn a night’s work. Dizzying waves of women who had taken to the streets to beckon passersby to their brothel. Kamuros dashing across the way, bending to the whims of their oiran’s command as they fetched every need one might possess.

It was enough to piss him off. The overbearing scents to mask the leftover musk of various customers. Perfumes intended to disguise the common prostitute as something angelic despite the usual fierce temperament. The smells burned his nostrils, and left his stomach nauseated. Far too many fragrances intermingling, none willing to compromise to the other. The lights were just as guilty, determined to set an intimate scene despite the obvious façade. The fabrics were bright, far too lavish, and often times revealing to provide a quick slip of clothes before delving into the job’s demands. Just as quick to conceal marks, and set off for their next target. Little more than assassins looking for their next meal ticket, enough to make his skin crawl. Not that he could blame them, their upbringing had been mangled as his own. Sold off by impoverish family members, they had been left to survive, much like the day he had taken to the mountain and left his own family behind. In the very same way, he had wielded various weapons snatched to his back in the dead of night, only daring to rest in the sunlight all those years ago, these women were just as lethal desperate to survive as himself. Parading as gentle, insightful women who tended to their proprietors willing to turn a favor to any coin, very few of them were in fact as kind as they claimed to be. Even less were compromising to their lesser attendants. Only a few baring gifts from their ward, more of them brandishing bruises and scratches. Smacked for the smallest of inconvenience, and baring the ravish of a scorned women confined to the life of servitude. Kamuros and shinzou alike, innocence robbed each night, bearing witness to the realities of the red-light district. He could feel the rage bubbling. He had always feared the chance of his own father coining his sisters off when he was a child, one of the many reasons Genya and he had worked so earnestly to care for their families. Their relief only realized in their father’s death. In his youth he had witnessed so many hardships, but being here. The familiar sear of incense, the telling whelps and bruises that formed at the corner of mouths of little girls, working to the bone despite the tears that threatened the corner of their eyes. Forced smiles, and facades of dreams, only reminded him of the girl he had left behind so many years ago. When his childhood had convinced him that he would experience happiness, a bride to call his own, and the hopes of a family on the way.

You were lovely in all the ways no one could compare. A demure smile that could captivate the heart of any man. Unusual hair color as pale as the sunlight, and as warm as the days of summer. Eyes that dared to captivate the sky, wide and furnished with long, thick eyelashes. Reticent despite such a young age. A gaze that danced across the lavish doll caught between your fingertips as you studied its features, so contrast to your own. Hair long and intricately weaved and pin with lavish hair pins, multiple kanzashi placed, an unusual sight for him at the time. Frozen in his tracks mid-delivery as he studied your delicate features, captivated by the sunlight under a Japanese maple whose leaves had already descended into waves of oranges and vivid reds. Such as the touch of rouge and blush that settled across your cheeks and lips, delicately painted. Brows drawn as you studied the doll, its black hair folded over your fingers. As well as the black painted eyes that deliberated your own. The heavy embellishments weaved into your intricate hairstyle were lavish, but nothing that compared to the many layers your small frame bore. Nearly wore down across the fabric. Vibrant folds and luxurious prints adorned over the fold of an attention drawing obi. He found himself leaning forward, his eyes tracing the stilt of your shoes, giving you height pass your natural frame. The enchanting length of your sleeves, a young Kamuro, he would later come to understand. For someone so beautiful, and obviously well cared for, the undeniable sorrow was visible. Stained upon your light make up, depicting a hidden hurt that he could not understand. Drawn to touch the surface, it was as though you were as beautiful as an untouched pond amidst this hidden garden. Only rippling at the boy whose fell forward, rolled off of steps and landed in a heap into your hidden world.

Your eyes, large and imploring, the startle gasp as you dropped your doll. Your surprise having drawn you backwards as, eyes tracing his silhouette. His clothing, far humbler than your own. The dirty covered samue covered with the day’s filth, and unassuming, a stark contrast to the intricate garments before him. The working class that derived from sweat and hard labor. The realization stilling his blood as his eyes met the ground, embarrassed to be caught in admiration of you. Especially given the circumstances. His intrusion into your seclusion far louder than he had expected, met with the growing realization that he very well could be beaten for having wandered into such an illustrious place. The growing commotion that grew from within the grand building, the raised voices of inquiring men, and that of shrills of surprised women. Your eyes having fallen to the doors of the veranda before falling back to him, your small steps rushed across the garden. Small, delicate fingers that clasped his own, pulling him from the ground. Tugging him behind you as you sought suffrage within the small grove of flourishing trees. Pressed against him, the shock radiating from his body as your small hand reached up to cover his mouth. Pressing a finger against your lips.

“[LN]? Are you alright?” a male had called. The clack of shoes again the stone work. The pounding in Sanemi’s heart becoming panicked and nervous, smacking your hand from himself. “[LN]?” the man called, pressing forward. Only to cause you to further lean on Sanemi. As though in some way your small frame could ever hope to conceal his own. Your eyes caught on the advancing man, an attendant he had surmised.

“Sato, I sent [FN] on an errand.”

The distinct shift in atmosphere was evident. As though the entire garden had fallen under a spell of a different kind. A sultry voice that commanded attention, grace in her languid movements. Sanemi dared to peek over his shoulder, meeting black eyes that could only be compared to the night sky, and hair detailing’s that mirrored your own unique style despite the obvious difference in color. The hue of the woman before him reflective of the most extravagant ink blocks only afforded by the higher-ups. Elegance tinged on the older woman’s features, carefully painted as she met the attendant’s gaze. A hidden venom that coiled in extravagant fabrics, more than those you adorned. As she tilted her head, peering down at the man before her. “M-Madam,” he had sputtered, quick to bow his head. “I-I had heard a noise, and I thought perhaps [LN] had fallen.”

“Sato, I will not repeat myself.”

“Y-Yes madam.”

The momentary glimpse his way that chilled his bones. Her gaze had softened, especially in comparison to the man who escaped to chores, desperate to evade her piercing gaze. The small smile she quipped before clasping her fan. Her movements fluid as a Tiger Keelback, relaxed in the grass. Evidence of her deadly behavior that had been briefly expressed now stripped from her features. Recoiled under the foundation of a tender smile, and slight nod at the package he had been intending to delivered, dropped where he had fallen through the gardens. The press of your body having slipped from his as the woman disappeared into the grand building, a knowing smile tucked on her delicately painted face.

Your mother, you had shared to him between stolen ohagi bites. A grand tayu, one of the highest rankings in the area at that. Your smile as wide and delighted to meet him as he had been to witness you. As beautiful as the leaves above you; he had understood your duty. Listened to you explain that you were a kamuro as you accepted his package in exchange for another. For him, you had pressed into his care. Extra ohagi intended for his siblings, a rarity they would enjoy, you had insisted. Promised that the house would not notice their missing. Ignoring his obvious discomfort and the annoyance his bashful nature had forced upon the both of you. Over redden cheeks, and unable to ignore the way that you had once again boldly pressed into him as you forced the lavish fabric into his hands before separated from him. Dismissed his insistence that he could not afford to replace such delicacies. After all, no one would notice that they had gone, not to worry. Pulling his delivery into your hands, and allowing your shoe to slip from your sock as you pressed onto the veranda. Earnest eyes that captivated the sunset, bored into him. The small, undeniable sorrow that he had witnessed before was beginning to show as you waved to him. “Please, visit me again,” whispered in secret.

A vow he had not broken tucked shyly to his heart.

Seizing the opportunity to visit you any time his deliveries took him to the pleasure district. Secret rendezvous tucked under Japanese Maple trees, split over tea and ohagi you had snuck from the kitchens. Each encounter growing warmer and more familiar. At times, he would bring Genya along, and others, he would sneak away at the first opportunity. Unwilling to admit that at times, he felt envious of the way his brother could captivate your attention. Your over willingness to lean into him often earning a series of curses, rough in speech and manners, and Sanemi only to receive the softest of giggles. Having thrived at his attention, and company, there were times you would insist on assisting in his deliveries to other brothels. Familiar with the landscape, you had insisted, and unwilling to admit that he didn’t want to depart from you just yet, he would often fold. Determined to preserve his pride. When you had dared to adorn a lesser kamuro’s old tattered kimono and covered your hair in the soot remains of a snubbed lantern of the night, daring to leave the confines of your employment, your fingers tugged at the hem of his samue… he had begrudgingly allowed you to follow after him. A secret just between the two of you. Spitting out a demand you release him before shyly grasping your hand and leading you through the town, muttering that you were far too much like a child. On these rare days out, you would whisper to Koto, and Sumi would assist you in securing him to your back despite Sanemi’s obvious fretting. Concern that his family had asked to much of you, or that such labor would be far too exhaust. Your whispered wishes of a life such as this hushing such worries. Days left to Shuya, Teiko, and Hiroshi’s teasing. The time his siblings would dare to reveal such matters to you. Such as the way he held your hand in a crowd, the way he rerouted his travels around move to avoid mucking your borrowed kimono, or that day at the river. When you had longed to dare to skim across the surface. How shyly you had peered into the water, in awe of him having dared to walk in to its shallows without a second thought. How he had watched you fumble over your kimono, determined to follow after him, but unfamiliar with the workings of fishermen, or how to tie back your clothing. How he had uttered curses, accusing you of being a child. How his knees had met the stones submerged in the river. Without hesitation, his white hair soft and bright, as puffy as the clouds above you. How your heart had hammered in your chest as his calloused fingers, unfamiliar to you as they grazed across your calf. His words as usual had been harsh, yet just like all the other times, his touch was gentle. Calloused from a lifetime of work, yet gentle in the way they regarded you regardless if it was protecting you from a snake that had wandered into a garden, or a patron who had become too casual, he always regarded you with such care despite his tongue. How his eyes had met yours, shy and sputtering a curse as your fingers threaded through his hair, because just one time… just one time, you had wanted to run your fingers through the snow touched strands. Naïve and oblivious to the way the blush crawled down his collar. Although, the truth was, Sanemi had realized that he had been the one naïve. From the blemishes that would be liter your cheeks when your mother was not looking to the day, he had found you cornered in the district.

The rocks that had pattered against your hands as you struggled to shield yourself. Words such as hafu, konketsuji, ainoko, and mutt littered the air. Having been caught in the rain, the soot was washed from your hair. Revealing you to the general public, and how they had scorned you. Rocks thrown from peers, random ones hitting their marks, revealing the depth of malice others outside of the pleasure district had regarded you, why you had insisted on staining your hair at each visit to the outside world. He had never considered, and without a second thought, he had pinned your assailant to the ground. Sanemi’s fists met with his cheek. Forced him to the ground, and berated him with every insult he could think of. Bitter and full of rage and ignorant to the shrill of the neighborhood kids fleeing his fury. The boy who was under him, now snotty and bloodied was still not enough to cool his temper. It wasn’t enough—he would never forgive them. Practically boiling over until he felt the all too familiar tug of fingers on the hem of his sleeve. Biting back the rage that threatened to spew, did his best to conceal his temper. His wide eyes met your own. The sorrow inevitable, that same sadness that he had witnessed so long ago under maple leaves. Your chin dipped to your chest, avoiding his gaze as you quietly requested your assailant’s release. And how he hadn’t wanted to. How he had swallowed his temper, met with your dejection. Your eyes unwilling to meet his own even as his fingers swept across your face. Grazed against the blossoming bruise at your cheek, and caught the tears that tinged the corner of your eyes. His gaze soft and mournful. How naïve he had been not to realize you had been suffering. Not to have realized the implications foreign born imparted on your life as the daughter of a courtesan. How artless he had been not to realized his growing feelings, or to understand the depths of his desires. Nor the nativity he had born as the words left his lips without a thought, a vow. A promise. To stop crying dam nit. Because one day, one day it wouldn’t be like this. One day, one day you would be home with him. That no one would ever hurt you again.

Fucking naïve.

The distant memories plagued him as he sat crisscross on a tatami mat adorned with cushions. His eyes trained on his drink and snacks. Ribbons hung throughout the brothel, lined in a variety of perfumes and incenses that burned his nose, and left him with the aching memory of a life he had longed for, and had abandoned after the loss of his mother. He had hoped, in some small way that perhaps, Genya had taken you for a bride. Although the little shit having made an appearance at the demon corps made it clear that certainly happened. The thought pissing him off as much as the overbearing scents that clung to detailed décor. Hints of gold and lacquered woods, rich in finery and portraying the wealth of the cliental the brothel owners captivated. Tucked into an inner room, his uniform having caught one of the courtesan’s attentions—mistakenly assumed him of a higher rank of the Imperial Japanese Army. Securing him a seat in the inner areas from prying eyes, an opportunity he wouldn’t waste. He had never had the opportunity to dive into the inner world of the district, not like Tengen had—not that the Wind Hashira had even considered bring tag along on his investigation. The underhanded method of dragging his wives into his business was one that had secured weeding the upper moon out, but was a technique he would not employ. In part because his rash decisions had simply taken hold of him, and he had left without much thought. The remainder of this route unavailability to him was that he neither wanted to include others in his analysis, and even less were willing to volunteer to work alongside him. So, this opportunity presented was a valuable one at that, one he would not waste.

Tucked beind sheer screens, the distinct pluck of a koto beginning to play. Another goddamn memory threatening to surface. You had spent hours practicing—Nope. Not fucking doing it. He bit back a bite of his snack, threatening the memory to remain buried from his presence as his large violet eyes surveyed his surroundings. Ribbons that hung decoratively from a variety of angles, intended to immulate the oiran’s kimonos if he had to guess their reason. Stupid at that, men clearly drowning in saki and desperate to escape their lives, and their wallets were veiled behind their own screens. From what he had gathered, one had in fact been a higher up—likely the reason the oiran who had guided him to this place had assumed he had been seeking a night off. Another, a rice man from a noble family that was bored of his second wife, although from the way he spoke, Sanemi had wondered how he had secured the first one. Brash, and demanding, and certainly not shy about grabbing at the waitresses. Their forced giggles revealing their annoyance as they gently reminded him that they were merely servants, not entertainers. Nothing worth pursuing in either of the occupants. Two places, he had discovered were empty, and available to incoming customers. Perhaps having too quickly busied themselves before big performance the oiran had promised him before ushering him in. Something about the Lady Kazaori’s impending betrothal allowing her only one more night of presentation, he had barbed at the name. Sending the oiran into a nervous fit, eager to be rid of the scarred customer. Fair enough. He had to remind himself that for courtesans, names meant little, and simply because the name bared familiarity didn’t mean… goddamn it this was pissing him off, he bit back another drink. His ears catching the koto and the murmured whispers of courtesans who had been invited to the booths next to him. One of the occupants having bathed in the attention offered, his sighs and teases evident as the drink on his breath and how heavy he sauntered. His words becoming nothing more than incoherent babbling, while the other resident had merely ignored the oiran’s interference. His eyes trained on the sheer screen before him. The courtesians desperate to draw his attention, having accepted that Sanemi was not willing to entertain them, or perhaps they were too afraid to inquiry. Not that he could give a shit, but something about the other man was different. Through delicate plucks on the koto, the enchanting melody that felt familiar to Sanemi’s ears, and warmed his heart. Goddamn it, his ears had managed to catch a snippet of the women’s conversation. “No one is paying attention to me.” A drawn-out pout intended to catch the man at her side’s attention, but fell on deaf ears. The man practically possessed by the performer before him.

“You should have known they wouldn’t,” one scolded. “He has always been Kazaori’s biggest fan. Besides, it’s Kazaori’s last night, you should wish her well.”

The indignant snort that retorted. “Why should I wish her well? Fate has done so itself.”

Pitter back and forth between the two, one clearly reserved and adjusted to her job, and the other ebbed in jealousy at the mere mention of the higher courtesan title the one Kazaori had earned. Bitter spats back and forth as the one woman had demanded the other remember her place, while the other could only lament that the Kazaori had secured a husband to be from a noble family. A second born of some beaucrat, born with a silver spoon his mouth. Apparently so enthralled by the tayu he had sputtered off some poem, and met with the keeper of the brothel without hesitation. Smacked double the woman’s amount without a second thought, even an additional fee for ensuring she would be ready in the days to follow. The woman obviously enamored by the idea of the other being spirited away, and perhaps wishing it for herself, the idea nauseated the wind hashira. The snip of bitter, “a hafu getting married like thaaa”. Hafu, the word barely processing before the woman’s voice had become mangled. The scream of her companion ringing in his ears and silencing the performance. Terror screeched across her features as she pushed pass the screens, desperate to flee the scene. The toss and clatter of her scatter leaving remnants of the once beautiful performance amuck. The toss of ornate furniture, women screaming and dashing. The imperial officer brandishing his weapon to no avail. Blood that spattered amongst the crowd. The glimpse of familiar sun-kissed hair, ushered by small kamuros before Sanemi had forced his way through the crowd. The demon who had masqueraded as a man having torn after the object of his affections. Leaving the woman whos throat he had crushed in ruins. Not even bothered to reveal in her flesh, discarded as though she were nothing more than mere garbage in his gaze.

Hand on his nichirin blade as he bolted down the halls, navigating the large building through the fury of screams and crying women who sought to escape. Blood quick to decorate—he was fast, but his trail leading Sanemi to the small form of a child, whose sobs were unmatched. Shrill, and screaming violently as the blood and snot marred her features. Her hair ornaments disarrayed, the hair on her scalp oozing, torn from their placement. The furniture she had smashed into severed beneath her light weight, glass littering her cheeks. He crouched down, his fingers grazing against her throat. Inspecting the bruising that had formed, but no clear abrasion. Nothing that had broken the skin. The bastard having merely tossed her in his wake, eyes too trained on the prize. Goddamn it. “L-Laadddy K-Kaa,” the little girl began to hick up in choked sobs. Her eyes meeting Sanemi’s. Fear marked into her skin, small… a child. She was just a child. “M-M-oonssste-“.

His found her hair. Gently twining his fingers across her scalp, gently patting her hair with care. “Did he take your lady?” Her tremble confirmed his question as he did his best to sooth her tears. “Where?” Her finger as his guide he offered one last soothing pat, “You did a good job, stay here.”

He was fucking livid. An internal storm that threatened to spew, a volcano that threated to erupt. The demon itself felt like a fucking waste of time, but goddamn it if he didn’t feel like the past was determined to fucking haunt him. The curse that he had spewed at the sight of you. From what he could gather, the demon had attempted to force itself upon you, promising eternity together. An offer you had refuted with a hair pin, jabbed with all of your might. Plunged into the side of his head, buried deep into his flesh, and irretrievable. Making the demon an easy target for Sanemi to slay, but goddamn he was pissed. From the way the bastard had dared to touch you, to taint your features with its very being. To the fact it dared to attempt to drag you into filth, to the fact that the very sight of you. Tears tinged at the corner of your eyes, your pride not allowing them to fall. Kimono torn open, hair unraveled and aslant. It was the fact that he hadn’t hesitated to captivate you in his arms. To trace calloused fingers of smeared rouge, inspecting your familiar face. The years had changed you, you had certainly grown. Merely the ghost of a child he had known before, to the very woman he had given his heart to so long ago. The shiver of recognition, your sky blessed eyes widening as you uttered his name. It pissed him off how he longed to hear you call his name once more, desiring to hear it between broken shudders. Your fingers clasped onto hem of his uniform like you had so many years ago. “Sanemi,” you whispered, begged him to look at you. Gritted his teeth as he attempted to turn from you. What pissed him off more than the fact that he had forgotten himself and embraced you as though you were still children longing for a fate that would never come—was that after all these years, here you were… waiting. Having risen through the ranks, claiming your mother’s title as your own, endured hardships he dared not think of, and yet, yet you looked at him with such adoration. As though you were still that little girl, faithfully waiting her fate… waiting. After all these years, you were still fucking waiting.

Soft fingers tracing the mar of his flesh, traced alongside the scars he had gathered through the years as you fell through broken sobs. He had told himself to leave, but the purr of your lips, the cries of disbelief that after all these years, he had come for you. You had money, you had sworn. Hidden away from sight, offered to him. Begged him to spirit you away, kidnap a bride before her day, to claim you as his own as he had sworn so many years ago. The press of your forehead against him, breathing in what you could only note as traces of spring that dared to escape your grasp. His heart settled against his ribcage for only a moment, whole and wishing for the day he had longed desperately for, but it was not to be.

“L-Lady, Kazaori!” a small voice cracked.

As though the chill of shifting winds had slid down his collar, your fingers still clutched to the hem of his uniform. His violet iridescent eyes found the little girl who charged through the entryway. Her hair still disheveled, the blood of her features only wiped half-assed as she wrapped around your waste. Her sobs staining the folds of your extravagant kimono. The Kamuro he had patted now stared up at him with wide yes, praising him between hick ups and attempting to catch her breath, and in the same fluid motion, she had brought him back to reality.

Wordlessly, his calloused fingers met your own, delicately unweaving their clutch on his clothing. Detaching himself from you, as though severing an invisible bond that you dared to reach for. Your shattered reality falling into your lap. The tears now falling, and out of grasp. He had separated from you, and in your heart, you knew what this moment was. What you had dreaded, and feared for all of these years. “S-Sanemi.”

The gentlest gaze, delicate. Fragile. The shatter of the wind of a cold night, distant and only enough to elicit shivers. Danced across snow flurries, and greeted the Japanese maple leaves. His smile curved and warm with all of the love he had held for you throughout the years. “Your husband is waiting.” Before slipping out the door, knowing all too well that he dared not look back. Dared not meet your broken gaze. Nor acknowledge the sound of knees meeting the wood floors, a collapse of distress, and the little kamuro far too innocent to the world of the pleasure district tired to console a broken woman. No, he did not dare. Because if he did, he would break, and in another life. He wouldn’t have to hesitate. Would not have to bid you farewell. Nor meet the cold air outside, this reality would not be his own.

No, in another life. His heart would be reeling from the yuinou. He would have been the one to present your mother with konbu, hemp, and dreams, with whatever money he had scrapped together from his jobs, with the hopes of growing old in one another’s embrace. In another life, it would be him beaming into the night air; him to protect you from your inheritance. Him to etch the memory of a furisode into his mind. Him to swear himself to you. Him to embrace you in the night, and his name you would bare, and the children to come. His name you would cry out, his touch you would lust for, and your body he would worship in adoration. It would be him. But in this life, he could only sever the bond of the girl who held his heart, and turn his back on the woman that faith had abandoned.

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #wind hashira #in another life

101 notes · View notes

l00rem · 1 year

Text

Sammy Lawrence character analysis

I had a small epiphany recently about Sammy’s character which just recontextualized his entire character for me and I really wanted to write it down so here’s a mini essay about our beloved musician and prophet :)

I think one of the biggest questions people often have about Sammy as a character is why he never left JDS despite the fact he seemed quite aware of how horrible it was for his mental health and that he had the talent to get a better job. My answer to this is also the main basis of this entire analysis: Sammy is a person who would rather be treated horribly then be useless.

There are many examples of this throughout the entire series. To make things easier, I’ll be going through his character in a mostly chronological order.

Before being hired

To repeat what I said earlier, people find it quite strange that Sammy didn’t leave considering his level of talent and artistic genius. But I think it’s important that we flip this around. If Sammy has so much talent, how come before being hired by Joey he was taking on jobs that he clearly didn’t really want to be doing? To quote one of his scenes at the party:

‘ The man at the piano shook his head. He seemed annoyed.(…) Sammy was not a fan of attention and definitely didn’t like putting on a show like this’

So it’s obvious that performing to audiences isn’t how Sammy wanted to be using his talent. But judging by the amount of praise Joey heaps onto him, he could’ve gotten any job he wanted right?

This is where I’m going to start heading into headcannon territory, because we don’t really know much about Sammy before working with Jack apart from the fact he once worked for the cinema.

I think it’s highly possible that Sammy suffers from the case of being really gifted , but still not good enough. He’s definitely talented, he knows this himself. But for whatever reason he was never good enough to be hired to compose for movies or anything else he seemed he’d rather be doing. Perhaps this was because of his personality putting people off? He’s quite a straightforward guy, I wouldn’t be surprised if his employers didn’t appreciate his unsolicited criticism of their works ( in other words, they can’t handle his autistic swag lmao). In fact, going off of how suspicious and distrusting he is of Joey, Its possible that he’d been tricked or scammed by his past employers. Whatever the reason, it lead to him having to settle for less and not pursue his passion the way he truly wanted to.

This is why I think he’s surprisingly so easily hired by Joey. Sammy continuously acts like he’s disinterested in Joeys offer, even though we know he’s going to be working at this place for the next 16 years of his life. I believe this is because Sammy knows JDS needs him, he is too talented for this place which makes him important. Which means he’s useful and won’t be thrown away. This makes sense when you consider the state the music department is in when Sammy demands to see it.

‘ I opened the door to the small music room. An upright piano and music stand were tightly packed inside, barley able to fit in the space. (…) This definitely did not look impressive.’

The fact that Sammy immediately begins demanding things after seeing it says a lot too. It’s as if he’s immediately pushing to see what Joey will allow, to see how badly he needs him. The more desperate Joey is to hire him, the more safe and secure this job will be for him.

And so he takes as much control as possible, demanding complete creative control over his area. The more he’s responsible for, the more he’s proving himself useful. Even if this will lead to him having waaaay too much work for one person to handle.

Working at JDS

Sammy’s 1935 tape shows us just how much he’s willing to put up with as long as it means he’s useful. He’s completely aware of how overworked he is, but ignores this in favour of ‘ keeping the little devil happy’ which most likely refers to Joey. Despite how much he complains, I think he prides himself on being able to get so much work done in such little time. Perhaps he even sees being overworked as proof that the studio just needs him that much? That he’s that significant to the success of the cartoons? Joey probably also used this tactic to manipulate Sammy, to convince him that he’s only giving him so much work because he trusts and believes in him so much.

I think Joey also figured this out from the way he talks about Sammy in Tiol. In fact it’s as if he’s actively mocking him.

‘ I wouldn’t say I was lucky to get him as part of my team, nor that I’m lucky he’s stayed with me all these years.’

‘I can’t make anyone do anything, even as a boss.’

‘ I’d never trade Sammy Lawrence for anything.’

= ‘ oh yeah he’s really talented and could totally have another job if he wanted but I actually need him and would never throw him away! He totally has the will to leave if he wants to but he stays because he knows he’s wanted here :)’

Jack’s 1943 tape does seem to confirm that the studio needs Sammy. By 1943, bendy wasn’t very relevant. Most people hadn’t really heard about the cartoons. And yet Sammy and Jack were still winning awards for their songs. In Sammy’s mind this probably solidified that the studio needs him. He doesn’t care that Joey took the credit because that’s not what matters to him. Better to know your doing good at your job then to risk upsetting your employer.

It seems he prides himself on being able to take on so much work too. In the employee handbook there’s a newspaper article on how Joey mistreats his employees and here’s what Sammy has to say about it:

‘Some people can’t take it and that’s fine’- he’s highlighting the fact that he is someone who can take it and therefore is useful to the studio. He even seems to be projecting, calling those who drop out ‘ useless’.

I think ‘ love requires sacrifice’ isn’t actually something Sammy made up to appease bendy, it’s something he lived by for most of his life. He’ll sacrifice his entire mental health if it means he’ll be loved in return. Of course, this would later take on a more darker and literal meaning.

In fact, I think there’s another factor that contributed to Sammy not being able to leave. @threadedsafteypin wrote this analysis on how Sammy may have struggled with imposter syndrome:

https://www.tumblr.com/threadedsafetypin/668068661627600896/sammy-lawrence-having-imposter-syndrome-its-more

So this gives him another reason as to why he can’t leave. If he’s working at JDs because it enables him to feel wanted and useful, then quitting because he’s struggling would be literally admitting that there’s an area in music he struggles with. In his mind he’d be proving his insecurities right, that he’s not as amazing and talented as the world thinks he is.

But Sammy had people who cared about him that would’ve been able to prove to him he’s worth more then what he can do for others right? Probably, but I think he failed to see that because of how important it is for him to feel wanted.

Let’s look at his partnership with Jack. I do believe that they truly trusted each other and remained friends during their time at JDS. However, it wouldn’t surprise me if Sammy deliberately distanced himself from Jack. Sure, Jack is one of the few people Sammy seems to actually like, but would he leave Sammy for someone better if he realised how much Sammy was faking it? I doubt it. But Sammy’s fatal flaw is his lack of trust in other people, he’s so paranoid of being worthless in the eyes of other people that he’d rather isolate himself then risk losing them. Especially someone like Jack who is directly linked to him through his talent in music.

Tragically, I think his fallout with Susie would have confirmed this paranoia for him. From his perspective, Susie doesn’t like him anymore because she no longer works for him. He isn’t her boss, isn’t there to direct her anymore and is therefore useless to her. Of course, we know this isn’t the full story. Joey intentionally orchestrated Susie’s firing so that she’d think it was Sammy’s fault. It isn’t that she stopped caring about him because she didn’t need him anymore, it’s because she thought he’d abandoned her. This outcome is very beneficial for Joey, it’ll make Sammy more desperate to seek validation from working for Joey rather then his relationships with other people. So he’ll be more reliant on Joey, no matter how much work is shoved onto him. The moment someone doesn’t need him they’ll cut ties with him, so it’s best to stay with someone who obviously needs him.

Serving the ink demon

Sammy’s devotion to bendy is the best example of how far he’s willing to go to be useful to someone. I think when Sammy accidentally drinks ink for the first time he was actually in a very desperate position. In his letter to Joey at the start of Batdr he seems uncharacteristically worried.

Considering what we’ve established, it makes sense that he’d try to help the studio not shut down. If it does, not only will he lose the place he feels secure in, but it will also show that he wasn’t good enough to keep bendy successful ( this isn’t actually the case, we know it’s all Joeys fault for his spending habits, but I think this is how Sammy would see things).

Furthermore, by the time he gets infected Susie would have been fired for a while and Jack seems very absent in DCTL ( probably because he was murdered by Joey off screen) so Sammy would be lacking what little support system he actually had. Suffice to say, he would not have been doing mentally well.

Sammy knows this company is going down hill, it’s inevitable that it’ll go bankrupt at this point. He’s losing his purpose. Enter the ink demon. A terrifying and powerful being who promises to give him a new use. Sammy says it himself in Dctl:

‘It wanted me. He wanted me.’

‘The more I felt him. Heard him. I need to please him.’

He was so desperate to not be cast aside that he was literally willing to sacrifice his coworkers in order to be of use to someone.

And then he gets sent into the ink realm at some point and the ink demon presumably stops talking to him. He’s lost his purpose but doesn’t even have the option to leave anymore. So no wonder he deludes himself Into thinking bendy will set him free. He basically has no choice, if he faces the reality of his hopeless situation will he even be able to keep going?

He convinces himself that it’s all just a test, he hasn’t been abandoned, bendy does everything for a reason. He just needs to get him to notice him again through sacrifice to remind bendy of how useful he can be.

Bendy killing Sammy was a massive reality check for him. It sends him into a complete spiral as he’s forced to confront the truth that he’s been thrown away yet again. But he still can’t fathom why he’d been ‘ left to rot’. After all, he’d kept on sacrificing people like bendy originally wanted hadn’t he? He’d remained faithful even after being ignored for years, spent years praising bendy’s name despite all possible logic pointing against it!

He has nothing. He’s worth nothing. All the suffering he endured was for nothing. We can clearly see that Sammy despises being useless more then anything else. If bendy had kept on talking to him, even if it was all lies, he would have probably have been happier then facing the truth.

Having no purpose

He may have a stupidly small amount of screen time in batdr, but I think his jail scene still tells us a lot.

I’d go as far to argue that the Sammy we see in prison is probably his lowest point in the series that we’ve ever seen.

I mean just look at him. He doesn’t even turn to look at Audrey when she enters. He’s been told that his lord is dead, that he’s a false prophet, that nothing he’s done has mattered because no one is coming to free him. If this is how Sammy acts when he feels worthless it’s no wonder that he lied to himself about bendy being his lord. He’s completely dejected of all hope.

To add to this feeling of uselessness, it doesn’t even seem like he knows how to play anymore. It sounds like he’s trying to play hellfire follis but miserably failing. Not only does he fail as a prophet, but he can’t even be a musician- the last part of his identity he could even latch onto at this point.

And honestly, as happy as an ending as Batdr seems for most of the cast, I don’t think this’ll be the same for Sammy. After all, his lord has completely left the ink realm. He has no one to serve anymore. He’ll lose all his purpose, and everyone around him tells him this is supposed to be for the better? He’s supposed to be content with remaining an ink man for the foreseeable future just because there’s no other option?

I think Sammy actually has the potential to be a villain in the next game ( assuming we get one judging from that scene at the end). Maybe someone from gent, like Alan Grey, will somehow get in contact with him and promise to give him a use again. All he has to do is go against the residents of the ink realm in order to serve him. And if Sammy’s desperate enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he accepted.

I really do hope we see more of Sammy. I don’t think the meatly is a particularly good writer so I’m not expecting some amazing character ark but tbh I’ll take any crumbs at this point. As long as they don’t make him forgive Joeys bs ‘redemption’ ark I don’t think they can mess up his character too badly. But I’ll guess we’ll have to see when the next bendy game comes out in five years.

#sammy lawrence #bendy and the dark revival #batim #batdr #joey drew #character analysis #wow I wrote so much for a character with such little screen time #what being hyperfixated on a character for months will do to a bitch #in conclusion please give Sammy more screen time bc he has so much potential as a character :)

141 notes · View notes

goferwashere · 3 months

Text

PUNCH-OUT!! (Wii) MONSTER AU 🗣️💥

FIGHTING FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE IN THIS RING. LETS GO 🔥🔥

It’s a bit long so I added a cut 😭 I spent the past three days on this

THIS IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE BUT OH LORD I FORGOT HOW MUCH FUN MAKING AU’S IS

ALSO PLEASE PLEASE ADD MORE HC’S AND STUFF IF YOU HAVE ANY

Please just assume that just about every monster on this list comes with super strength unless stated otherwise.

Glass Joe:

Human - Monster Hunter/Boxer

- Wants to retire, but knows that without him some of the more unruly and dangerous monsters would dominate the circuit.

- Not everybody knows that *he’s* the infamous monster killer within the WBVA. Some do, but he doesn’t want it to be common knowledge. He needs the edge of “Poor, weak Glass Joe” to get the jump on his opponents.

- He doesn’t kill often, only if things get extremely out of hand. He’s basically the only thing keeping the humans and monsters from starting a full out war in the WVBA.

- Despite his job, He’s friends with a couple of the other boxers. Some knowing that they were monsters, some that he assumed were human and were actually monsters, and some that were just human.

- He doesn’t have anything against monsters, only those who try to take advantage of their power.

- He still trains and goes into the ring, trying to enjoy himself. To be fair, he does still enjoy boxing despite everything else he’s doing. Even if his record does stand at 1-99.

- On that note, his one win wasn’t an accident. He fully intended to win that fight, lacing Nick Bruisers gloves with Garlic so he’d be fighting with his hands essentially on fire.

- Even though he’s got a serious job, he far from a serious guy most of the time. He’s friendly with just about everybody, and tries to be civil with the people who treat him like shit.

- He’s also still clumsy. Almost died a few times as a result.

Von Kaiser:

Vampire - Boxer

- Being turned during his military service, he’s gotten good at hiding the obvious signs. He covers his bite mark and eye bags, and excessively dyes his skin using turmeric. (It fades fast though, leaving his skin looking a healthy colour.)

- Claims he has a garlic allergy, which makes him sad because he quite enjoyed garlic before turning.

- Enjoys the perks of being a vampire, but just can’t seem to keep up with the amount of blood his body demands. So he often twitches and looses focus, being sluggish and tired quite often.

- He enjoys the chase when tracking down his prey. It makes him feel powerful.

- Is 100% on the monster’s side. He believes that they’re superior, and will often be snarky with the human boxers (even if they’re ranked higher than him).

Disco Kid

Human (Possessed by Kid Quick) - Dancer/Boxer

- Disco is being possessed by the ghost of a boxer that was killed during one of his matches (yes that’s his unfinished business)

- Whenever he’s doing anything involving boxing, that’s Quick’s doing, but personality wise that’s always been Disco

- Disco is surprisingly chill with it, always wanting to try boxing but never having patience to train (so Quick does it for him lol)

- His personality leaks into Quicks movements and taunts, since despite liking boxing he’s got ‘no flair’ (As Disco puts it)

- Doesn’t have any super strength, but if they work together they can pull of some nasty combos, with Quick grabbing them and pushing them into Disco’s attacks (Disco isn’t a huge fan of that though, so it’s only really a last resort.)

- He’s honestly nervous when he finds out about the monsters in the WVBA. Quick assures him that they’ll be fine as long as they keep their heads down.

-…Which of course, Disco would never do. So when he gets mixed up in the drama he doesn’t really have anyone to blame but himself.

- He knows that he should *technically* count as a monster, but him and Quick are in support of the humans.

King Hippo

Tulpa - Boxer

- He was created by a little boy who loved boxing, and created him. Giving him a backstory and a cool design. He thought about him so much that he just. Spawned one day.

- The only thing on his mind was boxing, so that’s what he did. He has no idea that he was just a figment of some random kid’s imagination, but I doubt he’d care (or believe it) if he was told. His only goal is to box.

- Not really involved in any of the WVBA human/monster drama. He’s rather quiet outside of the ring.

- Nobody is really clear what he is, but everyone has mutually agreed that he’s not human. No way.

Piston Hondo

Human - Boxer

- Everyone who knows him has a lot of respect for Hondo. He fights fair, and his technique was able to beat actual superhumans (granted, some of those wins may have circumstantial).

- Some of the other boxers are really confused as to how he can keep his ranking, and make speculations as to how he does it, but no one can come up with a solid theory.

- Unless he’s exposed to be a dirty trickster like Ryan, or doped up like Soda, everyone just has to respect the insane effort he puts in.

- Hondo is oblivious to the fact that the WVBA is infested with monsters, and has always thought that international boxing would naturally have more difficult opponents. Nobody knows what would happen if he found out, but nobody wants him give up if he did. Just about everyone (regardless about what side they’re on) will band together to keep Hondo in the dark.

Bear Hugger

Werewolf - Boxer

- He’s more or less happy with being a werewolf. Obviously he’s mad when he has to lock himself up during the full moon, but otherwise he’s chill.

- Essentially a Disney princess with how well he gets along with wildlife. Like. It’s actually insane.

- Thought he’d do well in boxing, so quite literally trained with bears before going to NY. He thinks it’s noisy and polluted, but stays to hopefully bring down the champion and take the belt home to show his friends.

- Cheers on everyone, regardless of what they are. He doesn’t really care about the fate of the WVBA and is just there for a good time.

Great Tiger

Human - Informant/Boxer

- A skilled magic user. He’s been learning since he was a little kid, and the jewel on his turban gives him a good chunk of extra power.

- Uses his tricks to get intel and feed it to Joe.

- He *LOVES* to stir the pot. He knows that he’s safe, and may even stick out his neck for Joe, but will never do anything that’ll put himself in harms way.

- In the same vein he’s always listening to drama. He will gossip like a high schooler, and he knows everything about everyone. He loves being cheeky and keeping other boxers in the dark about what he knows.

- Literally the personification of “🎶I know something that you don’t know~🎵”

- He’s basically on an even playing field, so has no trouble keeping his place in the major league. Honestly, he’s more in it to see how this drama will play out, and who’ll come out on top.

Don Flamenco:

Siren - Matador/Boxer

- He very much using his ability to charm people all the time.

- This includes getting the ref to give him decision wins (even if he doesn’t deserve it), and always to leave a good first impression on just about everyone he meets.

- Yes, sometimes it’s also to pick up ladies (and men? Sometimes? Depends on his mood…) but will never go too far with it.

NOTE: While I think it would be totally in character for him to sleep with them, I don’t want that for him since that’s not consensual. so let’s say that despite seeing humans as lesser he doesn’t want to cross that line. (For his *own* sake of course. The last thing he would do is use tricks to woo “lesser creatures” to bed with him.)

- He’ll whisper under his breath after taunting, convincing the opponent to throw the match. But he’s not great at it, and will sometimes encounter someone who doesn’t have great hearing. He usually loses those matches.

- Wants an all-monster WVBA. He can manipulate just about anybody, and generally sees humans as lesser (Unless they’ve proven to him otherwise, like Joe and Hondo) so he wants them out.

- He’s very charming and friendly, but if you get on his bad side he is NASTY. Like ruin all your relationships and steal yo girl/man nasty. (He keeps all that under wraps though, he can’t have his image be tarnished.)

Aran Ryan:

Human - Boxer

- To everyone’s surprise, he’s actually human. But for all the craziness he projects out in the ring, he’s a smart guy.

- He taunts boxers by trying to get them to hit him because he knows that one wrong move and they’d expose themselves. If they hit him too hard (he figures that one punch would be enough to kill him with their strength) he might die but knows that it’ll be hell to pay for their opponent as well.

- Same with the headbutts, it throws them off their rhythm because they need to react, even if they didn’t feel it.

- That’s why he cheats, because he knows that without it he’d stand no chance.

- But still, you can’t be asking people you know could kill you easily to hit you and be mentally stable. He’s still eccentric about making it as a boxer, this is just an extra challenge to him.

- Has a disdain for monsters, and will do just about anything he can to gain in upper hand in those fights. That flail has gotten him out of a few sticky situations.

Soda Popinski:

Human - Boxer

- He can only compete fairly (at world circuit level at least) because he’s doped up to hell and back.

- Way into the idea of the ‘indomitable human spirit’. He truly believes that human ingenuity can overcome any challenge, and this is no exception.

- He 100% wants to get monsters out of the WVBA. But because he knows that he’s already got a big enough target on his back for cheating he can’t make a big fuss publicly.

Bald Bull:

Minotaur - Boxer

- Nobody’s really sure where he came from, but some people have seen him in his Minotaur form and that’s been enough for the others to accept them onto their side.

- He’s close with a lot of the other monsters, and follows along with their plan to have monsters take over the WVBA circuits. He only does so for them, he doesn’t have a personal agenda.

- This is the first place he’s really felt accepted, so will do what his friends ask of him even if he isn’t entirely on board with it.

- That said, he does belittle the human competitors quite often. To their face and while they aren’t present.

Super Macho Man:

Dragon - Supermodel/Bodybuilder/Boxer

- Got tired of living in a cave, and made it to LA to see what had become of humanity.

- By god, he loved it. He’d chosen a particularly handsome form (even though he didn’t know it at the time) and loved the attention he got from the ladies. He quickly picked up on our customs and had plenty of gold to sell (after years of hoarding it up in a mountain somewhere, he figured that now was the time to use it).

- Always wears enchanted golden jewellery, because the last thing he wants is for his facade to slip. He doesn’t need all of it, but to him it’s a necessary precaution.

- He can breathe fire. He does it often as a party trick, and has even figured out how to change its colour.

- His skin is also very hot to the touch. You’d think he was always just finishing with an intense workout.

Mr. Sandman:

??? - Boxer

- Nobody knows, and nobody is brave enough to ask. He seems to beat monsters with relative ease, so everyone assumes he must be one as well, but nobody can figure him out.

- Everyone wants to keep him out of what’s happening, because he’s a loose canon. Nobody knows who’s side he belongs to and nobody wants to find out they’re his enemy.

PLEASE HELP ADD ONTO THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS BECAUSE IM EXPLODING OVER THIS

48 notes · View notes