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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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I Come With Knives Pt3

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Class is over and I am finally back home so I can post this chapter here now lmao

Warnings: trauma, blood, blood drinking, violence, fear, self-destructive coping mechanism, emotional abuse, physical abuse (grabbing, pulling)

I can add more just lemme know what I missed <3

Word Count: 1,050

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

She haunts you again tonight. You could feel her hands running over your body, tugging your head to one side as she dug her teeth into the mark on your neck. You see her ruby red eyes, dark with desire for your blood, stare at you as she drinks, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything. Her smile, lips painted red with gore, as she coos you to unconsciousness.

You refuse another attempt at sleep. Your lids are heavy, your bones feel like jelly, but you can’t bear to go through this song and dance every night. You didn’t have her here to remove all rational thought and send you off into dreamlessness. And while it pleases you endlessly to be away, you wish for just one night where you don’t see her. The only time that’s happened so far was after Astarion came to you, begging for something more substantial to eat. His eyes, the same shade but somehow softer than hers, as he kissed your hand.

The moon and stars offered you no solace tonight. The moon was new - a shadow against the already-dark sky. The stars were covered by clouds. Laying still, on your back, made you restless. You could almost picture Kir Parthene crawling over you, straddling you between her legs.

Astarion finds you after his hunt, tending to the fire. It'd been close to cinders when he left, but now it burnt as though it'd never gone out. You threw dry twigs onto it and stoked it with a longer branch. He sat down next to you.

"If you keep staying up like this, dear, you won't be able to fight." His tone was teasing, but his eyes betrayed his concern. "Is it her again?"

You shudder and tighten yourself into a ball, protecting yourself from the dangers of the world. "I can't stop dreaming about her," you whisper. Your voice shakes; you're terrified of the hold she has over you. "She's always just... there. Lingering. Waiting."

The light flickers against you both. It's pleasantly warm. The shadows it throws only accentuate your exhaustion, deepening the circles forming under your eyes. Even Astarion doesn't look as tired as you.

The tadpole squirms behind your eye, swishing back and forth. You can feel Astarion's reaching out. "You don't want to see it."

"No," he agrees. "But I want to know." You look at him from the corner of your eye. His face is set. Serious. "Show me."

The tadpole doesn't stop wriggling as you think. You dig your fingers into your pants, searching for any way to ground yourself here, now, in this camp, surrounded by allies and friends. And you let him in.

He's immediately thrown into a memory - or perhaps something stitched together from your dreams. He sees through your eyes. He's terrified. His heart is racing against his ribcage, pounding so hard he's breathless.

The door slams open. A woman, tall and beautiful and vicious, marches in. "On the bed," she commands. It's almost a shout. He can't scramble fast enough. She grabs him by the hair and tosses him in the center.

But he doesn't make a sound. He knows, somehow, that screaming would only make it worse. Any sign of pain - she would tear you apart.

There is nothing erotic or sensual in the way she mounts you, grabbing your arm to pull your shoulder down as she rips your head to one side. He's suddenly aware of his nudity. He's on display, showing everyone just who he belongs to.

She digs her teeth into his throat, biting so hard and deep he fears she may rip out his jugular. She drinks deeply, messily. Blood drips steadily onto the bed. He can hear her gasping and sucking and- too much. It's too much.

His head spins, but he can't say anything. He can't feel his fingers, or his body. He can't feel anything. His eyes fight to stay open as he stares at the ceiling - an intricate painting of angels and devils lining the dome-shaped structure. And he's praying. He can feel it - thoughts just at the back of his mind, whispered a million times before, begging for anyone to save him. To spare his life. To live another day. Another hour.

Kir Parthene pulls away, drawing the blood on her chin to her lips with the swipe of a finger. She smiles. Wicked. Pleased. He wants to whimper and back away as she leans down, caressing his cheek and kissing his forehead, but he can't. He can't, because if he does, he'll be punished.

"My good pet," she purrs. "Sleep. Sleep, my precious little thing."

His head hurts as he's shot back to his own mind. He winces around the ache as he turns to you.

You're no longer shuddering. No longer gripping tightly to your pants. You stare into the fire with glazed over eyes. You're numb. Seeing it all again surpassed your fear and hollowed you out. Gutted you until you're nothing but a shell.

Regret and guilt sit uneasy in his chest. He reaches out slowly, delicately touching your arm.

And you gasp. Tears fall from your eyes in an instant, fear and the need to protect yourself turning to upset and sorrow. You shut your eyes tightly, hands rubbing roughly at the scar on your neck, like you'll remember you weren't bitten tonight. But you're going to scratch it open, and he's even more terrified of how you'll react if you do.

He grabs your wrists and hold your hands away. You fight against him, but not because you have to get away. You just need to feel that she's not there. "It's alright, love. You're alright. She's not here. She won't get you." He's not even worried about waking the others up - all he can focus on is you.

Slowly, your strength dies. You sob. It's ugly and broken, and more emotion than you'd ever let show around your master. He hushes you and lets go of your wrists to hold your shoulders. You cover your face. Your whole body shakes, wracked with each heaving breath.

"You're okay," he whispers again. He can hear shuffling as the others are awoken. He can't even begin to explain your pain to them. "You're safe. I promise."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months

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Just A Scratch

Jack Mojave X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 2: Knife Play

Summary: Turns out being tied to a chair with his own knife at his throat is exactly where Jack wants to be.

A/N: I have not proof read this properly, I know I haven't.

Warnings: Is Jack a warning all on his own?, knife play, blood (not too much), cum eating, a little degradation, hand job, tied up, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1796

You press the sharp edge of the blade against Jack’s neck, trailing it along the edge of his jugular vein. His heartbeat jumps under the touch. But he stays still as you glide the point of the knife over his Adam’s apple.

He swallows, his throat bobbing with an audible click. You coast the tip down lower until you reach his suprasternal notch between his collar bones and press firmly.

His breathing hitches as he hisses, moving back as much as the wooden chair he’s tied to will allow as the blade starts to bite into his skin.

You tut a little disapprovingly at him and his dark eyes snap back to yours.

“I thought you liked knives, Jack?” You say in a quiet sing-song voice.

The corner of his lip twitches up briefly, but he says nothing.

You can tell from how his arm muscles are tensing that he’s trying to undo the tight ropes that bind his wrist and forearms to the chair behind his back. Not that he’s succeeding. And even if he did, it would be impossible for him to reach the ropes around his biceps that pulled his back flush to the seat. If he tried the rope around his neck would tighten and he’d choke himself out long before he got anywhere. It would be fun to watch though.

He’d probably get up tipping the chair over and cracking his head open on your titled floor, his legs in the air still bound to the chair.

You press the tip of the knife firmer, just starting to cut his skin. “Or are you just pissed off I’m making you bleed with your own blade?” A ruby red drop of blood beads before running down and disappearing underneath his shirt.

“Having fun are we, girlie?”

You grin and slide the knife down, scratching an inch-long red line down his skin. It only takes a split second before blood begins to well.

Jack clenches his jaw, breathing sharply through his nose. “Fucking bitch.” He mutters, hardly more than a whispered grunt and certainly not intended for your ears.

You hear it anyway.

Slowly you let out a small chuckle and ease the blade off his skin. “Wanna repeat that, Jacky boy?”

He glares at you for a second before you smack him hard across the cheek with the back of your hand.

His head snaps to the side, his jaw hanging open with the force of your hit. You don’t give him a second to recover before you're pressing the tip of the knife under his chin and tilting him back up to look at you.

“Wanna repeat that, Jacky boy?”

He bites his lip and groans, his eyes dark and clouded over with lust. He squirms in the seat, trying to rub his thighs together but he’s spread too wide. His cock straining against his trousers painfully. “Fuck, baby, please,” he moans and shifts and your expression softens instantly. “I’m sorry old Jack has to break the scene, but...” He stares up at you desperately, his chest heaving.

You smile and lean down to kiss the red handprint you left on his cheek before pressing your lips to his. “It’s okay baby,” you soothe, lightly pressing the flat of the blade against his heavy cock.

It jumps under your attention and he gasps against you.

“You okay?” You ask sweetly.

He nods rapidly. “I’m just; I don’t think I can take it. Gonna cum in my pants.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, keeping your lips hovering just over his but moving back every time he tries to needily kiss you.

He nods, swallowing again.

You tap his erection with the dull side of the blade, smacking it a little harder than most would appreciate.

Jack groans low in his throat, his eyes rolling back. You give him a second to compose himself and trail the knife along his jean’s stitching.

“Maybe I want you to cum in your pants... maybe I’ll just leave you here, tied up. All wet and uncomfortable until you’re begging for me to come back and start the whole thing up again?”

He whimpers, pressing his forehead into your chest and you let him. “Whatever you want baby, what,” he swallows heavily, his voice thick with his arousal. “Whatever you want to do with me.”

You smile and kiss the top of his forehead before softly tilting his head back up to you again by his chin with the tip of your finger this time.

“Whatever I want.” You echo and kiss him roughly, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Jack moans loudly into you, straining against the ropes to press against you harder, urging your tongue deeper. You indulge him for a moment, keeping his chin pinched between your fingers as you pillage his mouth and claim him as yours.

You break the kiss suddenly, shoving him away and pushing his chin back and up with the heel of your hand so that his neck is taut and exposed.

“Fuck, baby, yes.” He groans, gasping as you suck and bite at the spot below his ear.

With enough pressure to just slice into his skin, but no deeper than a paper cut, you run the blade’s edge down his neck, along his chest and to the fourth button on his shirt. The first one that is closed.

Slowly, but firmly, you slip the knife further down cutting the buttons free and open his shirt with every inch.

He gasps as you let the cool metal just kiss under his navel and trace his happy trail. Jack licks his lips, breathing heavily, eyes glued to your actions.

You hook your forefinger under the waistband of his jeans and boxers, giving you just enough room to slip the blade underneath. There is a satisfying shredding sound as the denim and cotton give way under the knife’s edge, slicing cleanly in two as you apply a minimal pressure.

Jack hisses, biting his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from moaning out loud as you expose part of his inner thigh and lower abdomen to the cool air.

You chuckle softly and slap the exposed skin with the flat edge of the knife, he jumps and whimpers so sweetly, before you dip the very tip under the remaining material and push it aside carefully.

It hardly takes any movement until his cock is free, jumping out and to attention like a well-behaved dog.

Leisurely you run the flat edge along his hard length, the touch light and fleeting.

Jack gasps, breathing hard, his chest heaving as he fights every urge to stay still. His dick twitches as you near the tip, precum building and smearing along the head.

Softly you run the blunt side of the metal along his slit. The coolness of it makes him shiver and moan, his eyes close and balls tighten as the heady sensation builds in his belly.

You tap the flat edge against his chin as you take his jaw in hand. “Here.”

He opens his eyes quickly and looks down to see his precum against the blade.

“Clean it.”

Without question he opens his mouth, his tongue darting out to the flat part of the metal to lick it clean, moaning wantonly at the taste and swallowing.

Swiftly you press the sharp edge to his neck and hold up your left hand. “Spit.”

He pauses for one second and you frown.

“I’m not wasting my spit on you.”

He groans again and quickly spits into your palm, the disdain in your tone making him grow impossibly harder.

You take him in your hand roughly as you press the knife more firmly into his neck.

Jack moans loudly, no longer trying to fight it, his eyes glazed over and desperate as he tries to trust up into your hand. You pump him harshly, pulling on his velvety skin and squeezing in a way that would have most shying away from your touch. Jack hopelessly tries to get closer. Little grunts and whimpered, ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaping his mouth with every breath.

“Gonna cum like a fucking whore?” You ask, purposefully injecting a bored tone into your words.

Jack sobs. “Yes, yes, ah! Feels so good, please, please!”

The chair starts scooting under his frantic attempts to fuck your hand, pleasure burning out every other thought in his head.

You pick up your pace, delighting in how wrecked he looks, how his sliced up clothing sticks to his skin with sweat. “Next time,” you keep that bored tone to your voice. “ I should just stab the knife into the floor and make you fuck yourself open with the handle, shouldn’t I?”

Jack moans so loudly, crying out and screwing up his eyes at the thought.

“Bet you’d cum after one thrust wouldn’t you?”

“I would!” He snivels. The chair legs smack, smack, smack against the floor. “I would cum so hard,” he presses his neck closer to the knife, purposefully cutting his out skin. “I would cum so much, please- oh fuck!”

He cums violently, shooting hot thick ropes all over his stomach and ruined clothes, coating your fingers with sticky white.

You quickly move the knife away from his neck, putting it on the side before kissing his lips softly as his breathing calms.

Jack nuzzles into your gentle touch, tears in his eyelashes.

“You okay baby?” You sooth, running your right, clean, hand over his face and shoulders.

He nods, gesturing to your left. “Let Jack clean that up for you.” His voice is soft and small, almost timid as he pokes his tongue out.

“Uh uh uh,” you kiss his cheek and grab a towel on the side to wipe your hand before you start to undo the ropes and rub his skin, massaging the tired muscle. “You’ve done enough, you need to rest now sweet thing.”

His face crumples as he presses his forehead into your neck, trying to hide from your praise and breathing hard. You know how much he tries to reject your kind words, even though they are exactly what he needs right now.

“Hey,” you tilt his chin up, your hands soft and gentle.

He blinks heavily as he looks at you, his eyes glassy.

“You wanna make me happy right?”

He nods quickly, the idea of disappointing you cutting into his heart like a vice.

“Then tell me you’re my lovely, sweet boy.” You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs. “Who I love very much.”

He swallows, biting his lip and nods. “I’m you’re lovely, sweet boy.” He says earnestly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Who loves you very much too.”

You smile and kiss him gently, savouring his little whimpers into your mouth.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! (Using a different tag list for kinktober so I don't overwhelm anyone.)

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

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meguwumibear · 1 year

Text

Revelation(s)

Summary: You look up and there before you is a pale man. His name is Nai and his companion is the knife. He seeks authority over the planet, to kill the spiders so that the butterflies may survive...or Nai finds you literally buried in the sand and decides to spare your life for unclear reasons.

Word Count: 2,900

Warning: character injury (mentions of blood), knives (obviously), Tesla’s backstory (nongraphic torture and what happens to their body after), i think that’s everything but let me know if i missed something!

Notes: If you’re all caught up with tristamp there are no spoilers! Takes place before Vash and the gang make it to July.

Nights in No Man’s Land are cool. Mornings are filled with stagnant heat from the planet’s sun. The warmth from the great red giant is oppressive. Its rays burn and blister the skin. Unforgiving and unrelenting, the days here are marred by sweat, liquid hot.

You read somewhere long ago in a book about lost technology that moons were once thought to control the tides. The sea and its waters ebbed and flowed, swayed by the pull of something far, far away. There are no seas in No Man’s Land. No waves to crest and fall. Here, on this dry, barren planet, the oceans are made of the sand and her dunes, moved only by the worms beneath it, not some heavenly body from above.

Still, maybe the five moons of this planet are trying to move and sway something, for there’s a gentle breeze when they’re out that simply isn’t there in the morning. It’s that cool, gentle breeze that you find comfort in this night. You are trapped, half buried in the sand, held there by a collapsed metal beam, but at least you can see the stars.

There’s a nasty gash on your forehead just above your left eye. Blood’s been steadily trickling into the thing for hours, obstructing your vision. The wound stung when you first got it. Now it’s just numb. The only proof you have now of the injury are the ruby red droplets slipping slower and slower down your skin.

The night is quite save for your labored breathing. You figure it won’t be long now.

Footsteps. Somewhere behind you. The metal beam pushing down on your stomach prevents you from turning to look. You wouldn’t have had the energy to even if you wanted. Besides, you’re so far gone it’s possible there aren’t actually any footsteps at all.

A shadow. A silhouette made visible by the moon light. Someone is here and they are looming over your slumped form.

“Pathetic,” comes a disembodied voice. The part of you that remains lucid swears you’ve heard it before.

“Vash?” you ask. Is it possible? Had your traveling companion come back for you.

“Not quite,” the voice tuts.

Then he’s in front of you, large and looming like the horsemen of death. You recognize him and you don’t. His build and frame are familiar, but even in the darkness you can tell this isn’t your Vash. It’s the eyes that make the difference. They’re bitter and angry. Icy and cold like the breeze that’s been soothing you.

“So this is what my brother has been up to,” the man muses. “Traipsing around with you and your ilk. Some days I swear he’s just as pathetic as you.”

Brother. You suppose that makes sense, though the Vash you knew never spoke of a twin.

“Well?” he’s demanding. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

“I don’t know where Vash is.”

He crouches so that he’s eye level with you and rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember asking. I’m not here for him. I’m not ready for him yet.”

Your face scrunches, “What-”

His fingers wind their way through your hair, gripping it so tightly you feel like a puppet pulled by a string. He forces your face closer to his own so that he can inspect you properly. When he survey’s you, his eyes are sharp, like those of a hawk catching sight of its prey. You manage to stare back with your good eye, the one that isn’t pooling with blood, though there must be something wrong with that one too because the man before you is fuzzy, blurred and misshapen, like a picture out of focus.

When he drops you suddenly, your head lulls to the side.

“Pathetic,” he repeats. “I don’t get what he sees in you weak little creatures. I mean, look at you, in this bad of shape due to a little blood loss. What do you think, hmm? Should I leave you here to bleed out drop after agonizing drop, or should I just ago ahead and finish you off?”

There’s a sound, a burst of light, and the man before you is engulfed in a tornado of something sharp and silver. It takes a minute for your brain to process what it’s seeing: millions and millions of swirling knives.

Your eyes widen, “What are you?”

The monster before you smiles, “An independent.”

And then your world goes black.

***

When you wake, it’s into a deep darkness. It’s so dark in fact, you figure you’ve either actually died or been struck blind. With some effort, you manage to peel open your eyes. The room you’re in is unfamiliar. As you sit, a wave of pain cascades down your back and spine. So not dead or blind, then, for death surely cannot be this painful.

There’s a man in the room with you. The same one as before. The one who wears Vash’s face.

“What do you know of Eden?” he asks you. Clutched in his lithe fingers is a thick paperback book, the spine worn with read. The Bible, you realize. His eyes never leave the page.

“The garden?” you ask, your voice hoarse. It strikes you suddenly how thirsty you are.

He rolls his eyes and snaps the books shut. “Yes, the garden. What do you know of it?”

You consider him now that his eyes are on you. There’s a strange look in them that you can’t quite place. Something serious and dangerous.

Your family wasn’t pious. There was a church in the small town you grew up in, but people hardly ever attended. Even the priest spent more time drinking than preaching. Still, you somehow think your answer to his question may determine just how long you get to remain breathing, so you say, “It was supposed to be a paradise for the first humans, but a creature tempted Eve with a fruit forbidden and after she convinced Adam to eat it with her, they were cast out.”

He nods, smiles.

“A world without humans.”

He seems fond of the idea.

“Is that your goal?” you ask him. “A world without humans? A new Eden.”

He stands to leave, “I doubt a thing like you could understand.”

***

A man with hair the color of the sky on a cloudless day brings you some food and water, grumbling to himself about babysitting though he doesn’t stay more than a minute, practically flinging the tray of food onto your bedside table before stomping and storming away.

“Legato,” Nai will tell you later, not long after he gifts you his own name. “He was my first.”

“First what?” you ask between bites of food. You’d refused it at first, but Nai hadn’t liked that. Started ranting and raving about how he didn’t go through all the trouble of having his doctor save your stupid life just for you to throw it away in some half-hearted hunger strike.

(When you asked him why he had chosen to save you, he had no answer).

Nai ignores your question—as he often does—to ask you one of his own. He seems to like to question you, though you’re not sure what you’re on trial for. Your humanity it often seems. “What do you know about plants?”

You shrug from the bed you haven’t managed to leave in days. The doctor worked miracles to repair your back and legs, but they remained mostly lost to you. Stiff and unsteady.

“They’re the source of our water on No Man’s Land.”

He’s sitting reclined in a chair, elbow propped up on the arm rest, two fingers next to his eye, a thumb below his chin as he observes you. The ease and nonchalance at which he studies you makes your blood boil with rage. He’s right to feel so unthreatened by you. You are only human after all. What could you possibly do to creature like him?

“Where do they get it?” he asks, tone bored yet undercut with something sinister.

You sigh, closing your eyes to pinch at the brink of your nose. “I don’t know, Nai.”

He’s smiling when you look at him again, as if he’s caught you somehow. You’ve clearly given him the answer he sought.

“Have you ever seen one?”

You shake your head.

“Would you like to?”

***

You don’t understand what you’re looking at. Surely, this floating white sphere in a tank cannot be what has kept the people of the planet fed and watered for nearly a century or more. At first, you think you may be looking at a gigantic filter, but then the sphere begins to unfurl and you’re left with more questions than answers.

Still, Nai is looking expectantly at you, waiting for your reaction, so you say, “They’re beautiful.”

Which is true. The creature before you is pale and soft like the moons of the planet, shining and shimmering with an almost blinding white light. It has a head and body not unlike your own: two arms, two legs. And then, of course, there are the wings.

“They’re kin.”

You look from Nai to the creature and start to piece parts of the puzzle together. “You’re related to them. You and Vash both. You’re plants.”

“Independents,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”

He’s staring intensely at you now, arms crossed, icy eyes burning holes through your soul. It takes you some time to realize that he wants you to figure it out, so you give it your best guess, “Independents can exist outside this container.”

There go his eyes. Rolling. They never seem to stay still when he’s with you. “Obviously. Dig deeper. How come I can stand here before you and they can’t?” His tone is condescending and patronizing. He scolds you like a teacher does a disappointing pupil.

“You’re…” you try again, determined not to be disappointing, “sentient?”

He nods lightly yet encouragingly. “Go on.”

“You and Vash,” you continue slow and unsure. “You’re more alive than them somehow. More aware. Conscious and able to make more decisions.”

“Perceptive girl,” Nai hums. You think he might be complimenting you, though his facial expression remains strikingly neutral.

He may be pleased at your perceptiveness, but a creeping unsettledness suddenly begins to worm its way into your heart. “Plants…” you muse aloud. Nai is watching you. Waiting to see what epiphany, if any, you have next. “We humans called you that. That’s the name we gave you. Is it accurate?”

“What do you think?”

You frown. You think this thing in the tank looks an awful lot like an angel.

“Can they consent?” you ask him suddenly. “Do they know what’s happening to them?”

He’s smiling now, something wide and toothy and predatory like you’re a fly he’s caught in his well woven web. He asks you again. “What do you think?”

You think, begrudgingly, that whatever these plants are, you’d die without them.

***

“Are there others?” you ask him one day.

By now you’ve learned where you are: an opulent city called July. A hearty, healthy plant crashed here during the big fall—which you’ve come to learn Nai and Vash caused—and people built their lives around it.

“Other what?” he asks in return. “Be more specific.” He’s sitting at a grand piano beating the same song into the keys over and over and over.

“Other independents.” You’re sitting on the cold floor beside his piano bench, resting your back against it.

He waits until he’s finished playing the song one last time to address you. “There was another,” he confirms for you. “One other.”

He’s shifted his body so he can look at you fully. You turn to face him as well. After months and months of entertaining the beast, you think you finally understand how to play its game. He won’t elaborate unless you ask. He likes to make you beg.

“Who were they?”

“Their name was Tesla,” he says. “I never met them.” He pauses, then corrects himself, “Well, actually, I suppose I did meet them. Twice actually. But by then it was too late.”

Nai only ever feeds you scraps. He likes to keep you hungry. Wants you coming back for more.

“What happened to them?” you ask, humoring him. You think at his core, Nai is incredibly lonely. There’s no other reason for him to keep someone like you around. You’re not like Legato. You don’t believe in him or his desire for a new Eden. If he were to finally sate you and your appetite, you’d both go mad with boredom.

“Humans,” he bites. “What else. You and your kind can never just leave anything well enough alone. It wasn’t enough for you to destroy your own planet and the flora and animal life there; you had to destroy this one too. And on the backs of my brothers and sisters.”

Anger isn’t unusual for him. He doesn’t seem to realize it, but all his anger makes him oh so very human. His emotions bring him closer to what it is he hates the most.

“What happened to Tesla?” you ask again.

“They came to me,” he says, “in a dream. They led me to where the humans on that ship were keeping what was left of their body. Alive two hundred twenty-nine days, and every one of them torture. You humans pumped them full of so much poison there was hardly anything left of them when they died. An arm. A brain. Their eyes. All stored in three separate containers. Preserved like trophies. And he has the gall to insinuate I’m the sadist. Every fucking thing I did thereafter I did for him!”

His fist slams down on the piano. The instrument wails in protest. You jump at the sound.

Talking to Nai can feel like diffusing a bomb. Cut the wrong wire, and he’s bound to explode. You aren’t sure what to say to him now. It isn’t your job as his captive to comfort him. Still, there’s something in those stone-cold eyes of his that wasn’t there before. Something sorrowful.

“Everything you did you did for Vash.”

He sighs, posture slumping. Nai’s tired, you realize. Of what you can’t be sure.

“He’s too weak to survive as a plant so he acts the dim witted fool to win him the affections of humans instead. Why do you think he behaves the way he does? He’s shrinking himself to not seem harmful or dangerous to you and your kind. You’d hunt him for sport or string him up and suck him dry like you’re doing our brethren if you knew his true nature. I had to protect him. I had to protect us.”

An arm. A brain. Some eyes. That’s all that was left of Tesla. Humans consumed everything else. Maybe that’s what Nai is so afraid of. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry all the time. You picture your mother hacked up and pickled. Suddenly it isn’t so hard to empathize with Nai.

“What are you going to do?” you ask him. He’s never actually told you his plan. Just bits and pieces of it. You’re not sure if he wants to keep you ignorant or if he wants you to figure it out for yourself. “How are you going to protect your kind?”

A little while back he brought a preacher to your room. Asked you to share everything you knew about Vash with the man. You assured both of them that it wasn’t much—you’d only traveled with Vash a few weeks at most—but Nai insisted, hanging on every word. You wondered how long it’d been since Nai saw his brother in the flesh.

Vash is involved in all this somehow. Nai needs him in July.

Nai is looking down at you from the bench, lips pressed firmly together into a thin straight line. It’s the first time he’s contemplated sharing everything with you. “The extinction of your kind means nothing while my own remain little more than conduits and shells.”

You nod. That makes sense. Vash and Nai are the only independents. Even if Nai managed to exterminate your kind, the plants would be no more sentient then than they were before.

“You want them conscious,” you say. “Independent like you and Vash.”

He’s smiling now, lips curved upwards, corners of his eyes crinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a soft and serene expression on him. All his hatred and anger gone as he envisions this humanless utopia.

As quick as the expression comes, it goes. Nai’s face darkens. Lips curved down in a deep, contemplative frown. You dare to ask, “How will you manage it?”

A sneer. Vicious and violent. It warps his otherwise angelic face. That’s the issue, then. The how. It occurs to you that Nai may have kept his plans from you not to keep them a secret, but because they’re too hard for him to breathe life into. A plan unspoken is one yet to have been made real.

Nai thinks you’re selfish. He thinks every human is selfish. You are tempted by everything. By food and drink and sex. Driven by id, seeking pleasure, drowning out pain. He calls you all Eve and plots a paradise free of your particular breed of sin. He can’t understand that you and your kind are just doing what’s needed to survive on a plant you were never meant to inhabit.

He wouldn’t want your pity, but in a way, he’s earned it.

You force yourself to look up at him as you say, “Whatever you end up doing, I hope it brings you peace.”

#nai x reader #nai x you #millions knives x reader #millions knives x you #trigun x reader #trigun x you #nai x y/n #millions knives x y/n #trigun x y/n #trigun imagines #i have nai brainrot and this is the result #i need a tag for my fics hmmm #i thought i had one but now i cant find it lol #oh well

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ikeromantic · 7 months

Note

Hi, I didn’t know if your requests were open. If they are, I wanted to ask if you could do basically what you did with your Shingen x reader “more than life” but with Nokto Klein from Ikemen Prince.

If your requests aren’t open than please let me know.

❤️❤️😂

Nokto's hand strayed to his pocket again, tracing the edge of the circle, the small crown of a diamond. Around and around, like his thoughts, chasing each other and getting nowhere.

"Don't you agree, Prince Nokto?" The Benitoite merchant was smiling, though the expression did not reach his eyes.

An awkward silence stretched between the two of them. Finally, Nokto plastered a smile on his face, a bit of self-mockery. "My apologies. Let's speak more on this later." He hurried out of the meeting without another word, or even a glance.

He didn't need to see the merchant's face to know he'd offended him. Nokto couldn't bring himself to care. There were other things on his mind. The ring felt heavy in his pocket, as if it might pull him down. His cheek still stung where it hit. Nokto raised a hand to touch the spot, as if he might erase the memory of it from his skin.

Even if he could, it would not heal the wound in his chest. The ache that haunted every waking moment since he - since she -

Jin grabbed his arm as he passed by the domestic faction office. "Is it true?" His expression was cold, his usually merry eyes distant and full of weighty judgement.

"No. Yes? I - what part?"

"You were found with a Jadean noblewoman?" Jin's words could have been knives, they dug so deep into Nokto's chest.

"No! I - she - I was getting information. Nothing else happened. Nothing!" Nokto felt heat explode through him. An anger he hadn't known he possessed. His hands curled into fists at his side.

Jin shook his head. "It's not me you want to hit. I'm not the one that betrayed a good woman."

"I - I didn't! I love -"

"Prince Nokto!" One of the servants ran up to him. "The lady you asked after, she's at a bookshop. In town. The-"

"I know which one." He turned to hurry away, determined to get to the shop before Emma could disappear on him again. "Thank you," he called over his shoulder.

Jin said nothing in reply, and neither did the servant.

The bookshop was open when he arrived. He could see Emma through the window glass, smiling as she chatted with a customer. He didn't think she'd spotted him yet.

Nokto took a deep breath. He realized his hands were shaking. This was the most important moment of his life. He had to find the words that would convince her. It was, he thought, somewhat ironic that after a lifetime of lies - personal and professional - the biggest challenge for his silver tongue was telling the truth.

He reached for the handle, but didn't catch hold of it as he was pulled back. Nokto tried to turn, but whoever had him knew what they were doing. A moment later, he found himself in the alley beside the shop, his face pressed hard against the wall.

"You promised you wouldn't make her cry."

"Rio. Please. I need to talk to her." Nokto stopped struggling and went limp in the attendant's grasp.

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Rio's tone was flat and cold. Completely different from his usual sunny disposition.

Nokto sighed. "I know. But I need to tell her . . . I'm sorry. I - I am an idiot. I let things go too far. I thought . . . I thought it wouldn't matter. And now I hurt the o-" his throat closed over the words and his chest felt tight and hot. "The only person that matters. The one person I - I can't stand to lose."

Rio said nothing for a long time. It felt like ages to the prince, held as he was. Finally, the blond's grip loosened and Nokto staggered under his own weight again, his feet fully on the ground. "I don't want to let you say anything else," Rio told him. "Not one more word. But." The blond grasped his shoulder, sky blue eyes locked on the prince's ruby gaze. "She misses you."

"She - she does?" Relief washed over him, and for a moment, he thought he might fall flat.

"You can apologize. Once." Rio's soft voice was full of unspoken threat.

Nokto nodded. "That's all I need. Just a chance to - to make this right."

Rio sighed, something dark moving behind his gaze. "I hope -" He clenched his jaw. Swallowed. "I'll have her meet you at the tea shop after it closes. You'll have privacy, and it's neutral territory. "

Nokto almost didn't hear the details. He was already imagining how the conversation might go. How to direct it, ensure the result he wanted. Calculating. Planning.

"I probably should just keep my mouth shut. But I made a promise to. To her. So." Rio frowned, his lips twisting with distaste. "My advice is to just be honest. Speak to her heart." He let go then, and walked away before Nokto could respond.

It surprised the prince that Rio would help, but he wasn't about to question it. He hurried away to make his own arrangements. Perhaps Rio was right about just being honest, but apologies always sounded better with a gift.

"There you are." Licht's voice, came from behind. "Are you looking for Emma?"

Nokto turned, surprised to see his twin in town. "So you heard too."

"Everyone has." Licht tilted his head to the side, curious. "Yves is beside himself. Leon called you a fool."

"He's right. I am."

"Chevalier said he already knew you were a clown."

Nokto sighed. "Not surprising."

"Sariel says -"

"Does anyone believe me? Nothing happened! Nothing! I love Emma. I would never let some Jadean - or anyone else - come between us. Never! I know it - it looked bad but . . ."

Licht's brow quirked up. "I believe you."

Somehow, those three words meant so much. That one person could see past the carefully cultivated facade to the man beneath. The one that loved with his whole self, unreserved, and loyal. The man Emma had found beneath all the layers of self-denial and fear.

"I think she's probably at the bookstore," Licht went on. "I saw Rio hanging out nearby and he follows her everywhere."

"Yes," Nokto nodded, a small smile at the corners of his mouth. "I'm meeting her tonight. But first, I need to find the right gift."

Licht looked puzzled for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll help."

It took the better part of the afternoon. Nokto made arrangements for a flower delivery to the tea house, her favorite pastries, an autographed copy of her favorite book he'd planned to gift her on her next birthday, and one last precious thing that already belonged to her and always would.

"Do you think it will be enough?" Nokto turned to his brother as they made the last preparations at the tea house.

Licht's mouth curved up in the ghost of a smile. "You aren't buying her. I don't think any of this will matter. She just wants to know you love her. And she wants to hear you say you are sorry and mean it."

Nokto felt his heart clench. "No more excuses then."

His brother clasped his hand and their matched gazes met. "Luck." Then Licht left him all alone.

The sun set and the night lamps were lit. Evening stalls went up outside, and the taverns nearby got busy. Nokto waited, surrounded by the suffocating sweetness of the amassed roses and bakery delights.

"Nokto?" The door opened, and she took a step inside. Emma looked, if anything, like a deer alert to the hunter. Ready to run at the first sign of danger. Her eyes were wide and damp, and still red at the edges from crying. They landed on Nokto and flitted away, taking in the tray of goodies and the artful arrangements of flowers.

"Emma." He stood, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. He ached to take her in his arms. To hold her. To kiss her.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Rio told me you wanted to talk?" Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I feel like I already said what I needed to. And you did as well. You're a prince. You have a job to do. Can't help it, right?"

There was a bitterness to the words. A sharpness so unlike her. Nokto felt a fresh prick of guilt. He'd gifted her that. Given her a poisonous wound. "Emma, I -"

"I already gave you back your ring. What do you want? Is there something else I need to do to break up with a prince?" Her breath came in shallow drafts. Her voice shook.

"N-no. Emma. Please." Nokto's voice broke and before he could think about it, he'd crossed the distance between them. He sank to his knees and bowed his head. "I am sorry. It was wrong. I was wrong." He felt the sting of a tear as it broke free of his lashes and burned a trail down his cheek.

"There was no excuse. No reason. I . . . I should never have let myself get into that position." Nokto felt himself choke on the words, terrified it wouldn't be enough. That this was the end. "I didn't touch her. That woman. I couldn't. But it looked . . . I know how it looked. And you deserve better."

There was no sound for several heartbeats, only his rasping breath as he struggled with himself. Then he felt her hand on his head. Her gentle fingers tangling in his hair. Smoothing it, mussing it.

"It hurt so much," she said finally. "Just seeing you so close to - to her. Smiling. Flirting. My heart -" She took a ragged breath. "I can't be with you if that's your work. I can't. I know you have a duty, and I won't stand in the way of that. Your network. Your contacts. But -"

"Emma. I won't do that again. I promise. I . . . I don't need to. I never did. It was just fun. A game. And then habit and I - I let myself fall into the person I used to be. I thought - I don't know. I guess, that it would be amusing. That it would be easy but -"

He paused, feeling ill at the memory. "It was awful. Faking interest. Leading her on. A horrible game. But the worst was seeing your face and knowing I'd hurt you." Nokto knew he was babbling, but the words poured from his mouth, unstoppable now.

"I knew I could never make it up to you. That you would never trust me again." His throat hurt as he brought the words up from his chest. "It hurt so much. Knowing I lost you. But I can't give you up. I can't stop loving you, even if I know I don't deserve to be loved by someone like you."

"Oh." A tiny, hurt gasp. "Nokto." She took his cheeks in her hands and turned his face toward her. "You deserve love. I love you. I haven't stopped loving you, even though it tears my heart to pieces."

He looked up at her tear-streaked face. "Please give me another chance, Emma."

She bit her lip, her expression conflicted. "I want to. But . . . I need you to be mine. I know it's selfish but . . . I just . . ."

"I am yours. Only yours." He stood, taking her hands. "These are the only hands I want to touch me."

"I -" She leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek. "I want these lips all to myself." Emma kissed him, her teeth grazing his lower lip, biting gently. Her hands pulled from his grasp as he was too stunned to do more than let out a soft groan.

"These arms are mine." She ran her fingertips up his forearm, all the way to this shoulders. "And this is for my head to rest on." Her hands stroked gently down his chest and belly. They settled at his hips, tugging lightly at his belt. "These are mine too. For . . . other things . . ." Her cheeks turned hot, but her gaze was fierce.

Nokto laughed softly, his heart brimming with love and desire. "Done. Negotiated. You can take everything. All of me. It's worthless without you." He pulled the ring from his pocket and held it out. "Would you be mine again? If you can't answer now, I'll just keep asking. Every day until you say yes."

She gave him a smile, the first since that dreadful scene. "You drive a hard bargain, Master diplomat."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." She laughed as he slipped the ring back onto her finger.

"Now you're even more beautiful." Nokto kissed her. It wasn't an artful kiss, nor skillfull. Instead it was a kiss of passion and longing and hurts still felt even as they were healing. It was hope and a promise, too.

When he broke the kiss, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "Are you going to take me home, now, my prince charming?"

"I don't think so," he grinned. "Your old house is closer and I'd rather not wait. I want to love you. And make love to you. Unless . . . there's always the carriage?"

She smacked his arm, trying to hide a laugh. "You are terrible."

"So are you. Or are you going to tell me you want to wait?"

Emma's gaze was warm and sweet and sensual as she curled an arm around his neck. "I have my house key in my left pocket."

#ikemen prince #ikepri nokto #nokto klein #ask box reply #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #angst and fluff

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1eaf-me-alone · 11 months

Text

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘

Word count: 2.2k words

Genre: hurt/ comfort

Warnings: none

Summary: Cyno’s busy with work, and you think he’s falling out of love with you. Your thoughts begin to eat away at you as you spiral into sadness.

Other: gender neutral reader

a/n: woo I'm finally back and writing. I've got quite a few fics I'm writing atm and I am ploughing through them.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

His hand in yours, his lips on yours. So soft his lips as they brushed your own. So soft his hands as they caressed your own. His eyelashes tickled your face, his eyes glimmered like stars, glinting lights in a sea of darkness.

He made your stomach flutter. Butterflies trapped in the cage of your body. Your head on his chest, the warmth of his hug radiating against yours, flowing through your body, your blood, your lungs. His calloused hand holding your smooth one. His snow-white hair next to your darker one and his fiery red eyes. The length of his dark cape tickled your arms. Your head lay on top of the fabric of his clothes and you could hear his heartbeat pounding in your head, and yours in his.

The soft features of his face all beaming at you. Soft white hair, with the delicate but rich smell of saffron, ruby eyes, for they were a gem enough to make you never want to look away, tanned skin, long eyelashes, kisses reserved for you, and black. Black? Darkness?

You opened your eyes.

The rain outside drummed relentlessly along the pavement, harsh grey clouds covering the previously pearl-white sky. Plants were drenched in a shower of water, animals scampered off for shelter and roads had started to fill with water.

Your blankets clung stickily onto your body, and your face felt wet. An uncomfortable heat enveloped you.

It had all been a dream.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Cyno lunged towards the enemies, striking, slashing, and attacking. His feet moved swiftly along the sands, his polearm clanging against their swords, the glint of a jewel against the light. Sweat and blood ran down his forehead. Four against one. Knives and hammers pointed at him, but he was too fast. Flying paperwork strung to a stolen satchel. Fierce eyes ready to fight for the death.

But Cyno was no amateur. He attacked again, his polearm scraping against theirs, his hair flying forwards with his movement, his fire-like eyes glaring in malice.

Although Cyno was just one person he was trained well in the art of combat- as the general mahamtra, it was his job. He could tell the four were starting to tire, their movements slow and clumsy, their footwork slipping, their throats barely avoiding Cyno’s spear. And so Cyno continued- a game of cat and mouse, waiting for them to weaken as he fiercely plunged repeatedly towards them, each clash of his weapon against theirs faster than the one before.

His feet skidded along the burning sand but he didn't seem to care. Cyno had a priority: he had to get the paperwork back. His face now felt sticky, his tongue dry from dehydration and the grip on his polearm starting to loosen.

He didn't give up, in fact, Cyno now went with a fiercer power. Another strike. A slash. A hit. And then they slipped with a scream. That was a mistake. Cyno pointed his spear at the one that fell and hooked it onto the satchel, he grabbed it. Turning towards them again, pointing the polearm at their necks. He glared.

“If you ever dare steal paperwork from the Akademiya again I'll let you off far less lightly.”

He glowered at each of them individually

“Consider this a warning.”

As soon as Cyno lifted his spear, the foursome stood up and scampered away like terrified deer.

He watched them leave, running off as quickly as they possibly can. Satisfied he turned around and began to walk back.

I hope they’re proud of me, he thought.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

What if Cyno no longer cared? What if he’d found another lover? What if his love for you had faded?

All these thoughts crowded your mind, inhabiting it like an infestation of loud wasps or blood-sucking leeches.

What if you had said something wrong? What if he never really cared for you in the first place? What if it was just an act?

You hadn’t moved from the bed since you had woken up, and now it no longer felt like a comfortable place to rest but somewhere sticky and musty and hot.

You had nothing to look forward to anymore. Not in the evenings when you and Cyno cooked dinners, not in the night when Cyno embraced you in bed and kissed your cheek and held your hand, not in the mornings in which the two of you used to sit together to chat about the upcoming day. You wished he were here.

A small tear rolled down your cheek. The rain began to pour down heavily.

You missed him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Cyno walked towards the Akademiya clutching the paperwork in his hand. He saluted both guards poised on either side of the steps and entered into the building.

The Akademiya was deadly quiet at this hour, with the only human sound coming from the few footsteps and shuffling of people. No one spoke, apart from the occasional whisper which could only be heard if you were close enough to listen. The water from the fountain in the middle of the room trickled and splashed against the base of its structure.

The only source of light came from the grandiose chandelier in the ceiling, which was painted blue and beige. Although, saying that, a few lamps were spotted on floors or staircases. The room was mostly stone grey, with occasional accents of gold, and green coming from the potted plants on the side of the space.

Cyno walked across the room and entered the lift on the other side. It moved upwards until it finally stopped in another room.

Cyno knocked on the door and heard the gruff voice of a familiar person telling him to come in. He pushed the door open and saw Alhaitham sitting on a chair next to a desk. He swiftly removed the paperwork from the satchel and handed it to him.

“Some students had stolen this from the Akademiya.”

Alhaitham nodded. He reached out to hold the papers and as he took them he wrote a note on his desk.

“Thank you, Cyno.”

Cyno gave a curt nod and turned around, back on his way to you.

He couldn't wait to see you tonight.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You stared out the window. The sun had begun to climb into the sky. It was still raining.

You eventually got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Wiping your tears away with water until your face was red and the taste of saltiness in your mouth had disappeared.

You walked back to the bedroom and once again sat on your bed, looking up at the ceiling.

There’s no point in sulking over things you can’t even back up with facts, and there’s no point in sitting in bed and crying all day.

You stood up from the bed. You would ask Cyno about it later.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Cyno walked upon the usually bustling streets of the market. Due to the rain, most people sought refuge in their homes.

Fabric roofs covered the materials from being wet.Pots of herbs and spices filled some of the stalls, and shops with books, medicine, gadgets and half-hearted vendors shouting an occasional invite to attempt to draw the few customers there.

Cyno stopped at the stall he was searching for: the flower shop.

An array of colourful flowers had been placed on tables, vases and shelves. Rich, purple Sumeru roses, deep blue dream flowers, sun yellow stamina flowers, violet padisarah’s and crimson mourning flowers.

Cyno inspected each flower, taking a few to his nose to sniff. Finally, when he had decided on the flowers he wanted for you, he cleared his throat, “I’d like those, please.”

He pointed towards the flowers he wanted.

The vendor wrapped the flowers in light brown paper, along with a purple and gold accented ribbon to keep them in place.

“That’ll be 500 mora, sir.”

Cyno reached for his pocket and handed the vendor the mora. He then picked up the wrapped flowers and held them carefully in his hand.

He hoped you would love them.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You heard a knock on the door and immediately jumped out of your seat. Could it be?

You rushed towards the door and opened it. Lo and behold it was Cyno, clutching flowers in his hand and a smile on his face. His cape was a little muddied, his hair displaced, and some new scratches had appeared on his face, but it was still him.

He looked at you and smiled “I got you flowers, my feather.”

He handed them to you and as you quickly unwrapped it, finding an array of colours and shapes, you lifted the flowers to your nose and took a long, deep, breath. And then you sighed.

Cyno furrowed his eyebrows.

“Is everything ok, my scarab?”

Slowly you lifted your head, putting the flowers aside.

“There’s something I want to tell you…”

You took his hand and walked him towards the bedroom.

As soon as he sat, with his attention focused on you, you began to speak.

“Recently I feel like we’ve been spending less and less time with each other. I barely get to see you anymore, and when I’m awake you’re already gone. I’m scared you don’t care about me or that your interests lie somewhere else. I don’t have anything to back it up with, but I can't really tell if my thoughts are reality or not.

A few tears had started to roll down your cheek, you looked away, not wanting Cyno to see you in this messy and embarrassing state.

Cyno waited. Letting your tears fall and giving you the space you needed. Then turning your head so his hand was under your chin, he looked at you affectionately, wiping away a tear that was now slowly trickling down your neck.

“I’m sorry. Work has been tougher than ever before and the Akademiya currently has a shortage of staff, so I’m doing double the work I usually do at the moment. My dear, of course, I love you. You are the gem that keeps me going, you are what I think of when I’m in battle. However, I have a lot to deal with at the moment too. Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?”

You paused for a second, Finally, you raised your head, subconsciously unaware you had shuffled closer to Cyno as his arm was now wrapped around your waist.

“I'm sorry work has been so hard for you. I’m sorry for adding to your pile of things to worry about. Maybe we could write each other letters when you’re gone? And tell me when you’re going to leave before you leave. I don't like waking up to not see you there and not knowing how long you’ll be gone for.”

Cyno nodded.

“In that case, before I’ll leave I’ll tell you, I’ll also make sure to write letters to you every other day. I’ll ask Tighnari if I can use one of his birds to send the letter to you.”

You bowed your head.

“ Don’t force yourself if you’re too busy, though. Is there a way I can help you prepare for your trips? Ease the tension from your work? I feel like you’re overworking yourself and you need to remember to take care of yourself. I wouldn't mind cooking our meals when you come home or packing supplies when you’re setting off for another mission? Just... try not to overwork yourself, ok? You need a break too.”

“Thanks, I would... really appreciate that and ill try not to overwork myself.”

You paused a second, a thought coming to mind

“Oh and thank you for the flowers, they're lovely”

“I'm glad you liked them.”

Your head now fell onto Cyno’s shoulder letting out a long, deep breath. The tension you had kept in your body had finally flown out and you were left with a smile on your face and a feeling of warmth in your stomach.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

(a few days later)

You heard the voice of Cyno in your ear.

“I need to go now my feather, I'll be back soon. Thank you for the candied ajilenakh nuts, I'll be sure to savour them.”

“Mphm.”

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, and after hovering above your head for a couple of seconds, he left.

Although your eyes were closed, and you were still in the realms of sleep and dreams, you smiled.

#It is currently 1:41am and I'm on the verge of falling asleep #cyno x gender neutral reader #cyno #genshin impact #cyno x you #cyno x reader #cyno imagines #cyno genshin impact #i will edit this if there are any mistakes later on when I'm well rested #cyno x y/n #cyno headcanons #cyno fluff #cyno x genshin

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simpingcorner · 1 year

Text

Daughter of the Shadows

Word Count: ~1.3k Warnings: mild violence (stabbing, mentions of gunshots, physical fighting), blood, alcohol, gambling,mention of human tr*****, Pekka Rollins,not proofread, let me know if I forgot something.

Author's Note: First chapter to my Grishaverse fanfic. A reminder this is insipred by my SoC DR so it’ll follow both the books and the show plotlines, there will be changes to the canon characters and their storylines, it’s also a Kaz Brekker x OC. | English isn’t my first language so please bear with me and tell me if there’s something wrong. I hope you like it.

all rights to leigh bardugo, i only owny liith and her backstory (other ocs will be introduced later)

Read part 2 here - Ch.3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6

CHAPTER 1

LILITH

The starless night sky, the waves breaking on the rocks, the muffled sounds coming from the city, the briny autumn air surrounded her, it happened before she could even think of enjoying the moment a voice broke the night silence, the girl jumped to her feet, knives drawn, eyes locked on the darkness in front of her as her legs moved independently, silent movements, invisible to the inexperienced eyes allowed her to move closer to the noise source, as she’d expected a crowd had formed on the pier of the fourth harbour. Their guns reflected the dim street lamps’ light, red rubies shone under the moonlight, “This wasn’t the deal.” said a merchant’s voice, “The deal was you’d bring me fresh meat and I’d set you free.” Pekka Rollins’ hoarse voice echoed in her ears, she watched and studied the scene in front of her, hidden by the shadows, disgusted at the ideas of even more lives ruined by Pekka Rollins.

The smell of blood came before she could even realize what was going on, the pier’s shadows hid her making her even more dangerous than in the daylight, her knives handles now an extension to her hands, her leather gloves blood stained, her legs silents and fast followed a now too familiar pattern, the men surrounded her, guns at her head ready to fire, the girl’s eyes studied the scene as in a book, reviewing every possible outcome, she was surrounded, the men much bigger than her, she gripped the handles of her knives, the material seemed to heat up under the pressure, the lights of the street lamps trembled ready to go out at any given moment, the salty air now corrupted by the smell of blood and gunpowder. “I don’t want to kill you Mrak.” Said the merchant stopping in front of the brunette, a grin forming on his face studying her. “I wish I could say the same.” The girl replied wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes full of anger, hatred, revenge, but her face was impassive, the scar on her righ cheek illuminated by the lamp post, her lips and jaw tight, her feet and hands ready to attack or defend, the faded tattoo of Emerald Palace was still too visible on her left forearm. “I thought you’d be happy to hear another slaver dead.” The man continued staring at her, “Wasn’t it one of them who brought you here? Who ruined your life?” the brunette knew if she’d attacked the rest of the Dime Lions would open fire to save their leader, “My life was over before I even got to Ketterdam.” she said closing her fists and inhaling before attacking, their moves were draw in her brain like the project of a house on paper, predictable and obvious, during each fight the Dime Lions’d forgot they had guns in their hands, finding themselves fighting hand to hand with their rivals.

The girl’s eyes became watery, a sudden burning sensation invaded her right forearm, the gray sleeve darkened, soaked in blood, but before she could assimilate what happened, the dagger disappeared from her hand finding a new home in the skull of one of the men surrounding her, some had fled, others were on the ground gasping for air or passed out. Her eyes found Pekka Rollins’, her face covered in blood, her left hand gripping her right arm, “Next time I won’t let you free.” said the man turning on his heels and disappearing into the shadows of the pier, the girl inhaled trying not to think about the pain in her arm, the burning had given way to cold and numbness, the brunette put her knives back in their places before walking back towards the Barrel.

Ketterdam was the place to go if you wanted to disappear, a city run by criminals, thieves, crooks, murderers; a city where authorities were nearly as corrupted, if not more, than the citizens; tourists from all over the world came to live without rules, to enjoy the freedom of a city without laws, to distract themselves from the problems of their daily lives, with their money, clean clothes, hot food on the table, a roof over their heads, a warm comfortable bed to sleep in after a tiring day, hot water always at the ready for a relaxing bath; the more fortunate citizens, the merchants, the Council members, the owners of the most famous clubs in the city lived in safe, warm, private houses; all the others, on the contrary, lived from day to day, hoping and praying to the Saints that they’d have enough to be able to afford a common room, a hot meal, or to be able to repay their debts.

The smell of the Barrel invaded her nostrils as she went from roof to roof trying not to be seen, the window to his office was open, a sign that he was waiting for Inej, the girl knew she shoulnd’t have gone in but with her arm injured she wouldn’t be able to open her bedroom window, and entering the front door was out the question. She climbed over to the window and nimbly entered the room, the inexperienced ear would never notice the air shift caused by the girl, but Kaz Brekker wasn’t inexperienced, not when it came to his investments. “I will not do business with a criminal.” The unknown voice filled the room, forcing her to hide in the shadows, her steps were silent, her breath inaudible, “You will find no honest man in Ketterdam.” Kaz replied before dismissing the man and closing the door behind him, “You can come out.” he simply said going back to studying the papers on the desk, the girl headed to the door, her arm hidden behind her back, her face covered in blood, her steps trembling but still too silent and proud, she barely got to reach the doorknob that his cane stopped her, the girl’s eyes fixed on the door, her hand firm on the doorknob, “What do you have for me?” the boy said as he sat down at his desk, the cane resting on his knee in of him staring at her, the crow’s eyes on the handle seemed to study her. “Pekka Rollins has bought other kids.” The boy’s face was stern, unreadable, fixed on the brunette in front of him, “He killed the slaver at Fourth Harbour.” the girl explained. “Okay.” His voice was hollow, the voice of someone who had decided to turn off their emotions, the same voice used by the girl.

The cut on her forearm was less serious than she had imagined, the help of a healer would have fastened the recovery but she didn’t have the money nor the time to find one, she tightened the bandage on the wound and left her room heading towards the bar counter, “Lilith, came to bring me luck?” Jesper’s cheery voice woke her up from the trance she was in, the Zemeni boy motioned for her to sit next to him at the poker table.

The Crow Club was full of tourists and non, whoever was in the Barrel and wanted to tempt fate was there, the girl noticed Rotty and Specht busy gambling away the last few coins they had left, Big Bolliger greeted her from the door before kicking out yet another cheater, Anika stared at her from the counter, while Jesper looked at her with a smile, letting her slip in next to him. “SO how much did you lose?” The girl asked as she sat down and studied the table, “Your lack of confidence hurts me Lilith.” said Jesper betting the rest of his Kruge on the upcoming hand, “Just saying if you don’t pay your debts, Per Haskell won’t kick out only you, and I really like my room.” explained the girl pulling out her daggers and cleaning them, she could feel his gaze on her, he was studying her, the bandage on her harm, a bandage that wasn’t there just a few minutes before, but as soon as she looked up he was gone, the office door closed at the top of the stairs.

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zipperrants · 2 months

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tell me all ab ur tua dr, what were the hargreeves siblings like?

alright lets get into it first I'll explain the backstory a little. I am their sibling as well (im #8 and have electric powers kinda like Denki from mha) and I am also the shortest in this group which makes the fact that they view my decision on things as final hilarious because for some reason I am the voice of reason. I also have a wife (shes also my wife in my youtube dr but I scripted her in because I love my wife so much) but I also didn't tell any of them that I have a wife since I am in the public eye and she does not want to be so we eloped. So they met Ruby for the first time (slash this was the moment they learned I like women) so yeah my dr follows the plot and atm we are in the 60s and I work at the diner that Allison and the protesters do the sit in at (its gonna be a fun ride lemme tell you that) but now onto how the siblings are

Luther: I hate this man he deserves to die. 10/10 will always fight on site. (hes actually super nice even tho hes kinda a jerk the first two seasons of the show. He was very accepting of me being into women and was quick to correct himself if he misgendered me.He also is really good with my son even though he isn't sure how to handle him)

Diego:I love him and i would still fight him on site. He is very casual about a lot of things. He likes Ruby more than he likes me and our son (technically my step-son but I've been around him since he was 2 and his dad "went to get milk") He likes being the fun uncle who gets in trouble for teaching the kid cuss words and how to play with knives

Allison: I love her but I also hate her. She is so sweet but she has been under so much stress with Claire and Justin that she snaps at people way easily. But she does like to be the aunt and sister in law who gets to have people vent with her

Klaus: He is amazing and we get in trouble so often. Also if you wanna smoke weed he has some good shit. He's a fairly okay uncle. A last resort babysitter though like you will only leave your kid with him if you have to. Ruby thinks hes a bad influence on me (because he is. We sneak off and get high together every time we see each other)

Five: Such a control freak. I love him to death but I also wanna beat him with a brick. He is more of a "gtf away from me" kinda uncle. He hates my amazing comedy. (he asked me if i was 5 after I fixed myself some chocolate milk and I said "no im 8 your 5") and he is very distant from the family

Ben:Is not in the picture for us all yet since we haven't met the sparrow academy.

Viktor: he is so nice. He hasn't came out yet and I don't wanna push him. He will come out when he feels it is time. He talks to me more often than the rest of the family purely because I was the only one of our siblings who played and talked to him as a child.

#shifting #shiftblr #shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #reality shift #shifters #reality shifter #zipper rants #zipper is back on their bullshit #zipper answers their asks #zipper isnt on drugs they promise #zipper bites #zipper probably needs therapy #interogate zipper please

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lucifersincentivetosleep · 1 month

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Hey if you've ever wanted to rp being newlyweds with Lucifer you should def play the devilgram for his new "Watch Over Me by My Side" card :)

Legit I verbally keysmashed at his dialogue in part four.

Spoilers⬇️

(Please excuse my rambling, but I'm down bad your honor)

So theme of the devilgram is skateboard modding, which really just means we sit around until it's time to remind him its time to go home(read: drag his hyper focused ass away from his project) and go to the grocery store. Where he says this:

And I think it's criminal that we don't get the option to hold his hand after he says that because my reaction to being told that by my partner would be to take their hand or kiss them cause I'm a romantic little shit.

Then we get to this part;

and he made THIS FACE

Insert that gif of a dude slamming a credit card down multiple time cause that was me in this moment.

Like, ignore the fact we all got our hopes up then shot down in the og when they brought up marriage, and that they for sure aren't actually implying it as possible now—this is such a cute interaction? We startled him with the newlywed comment and he just turned it right back around at us like the skilled mfer(affectionate) he is.

But that's not all, no. Of course after all that he had to go and KO my heart by saying;

Like sir, my guy, star of the devildom and light of my life; you're gonna end me with that cute shit.

(Sorry, no kissy. Unless I missed the right dialogue choice.)

I swear if he doesn't rizz me like this in the main story (when I eventually get back to it) I'm not sure what I'll do with my self.

#screaming into my personal void #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me devilgram spoilers #obey me spoilers #ruby eyes and words like knives #I told my friend about holding his hand in reaction to the 'grab anything that catches your eye' comment and #they appluaded my (nonexistant) rizz so I like to think he'd have been amused too #my commentary is aweful I apologize. the ADD makes my thoughs go brrrrrrrrrrrrr

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monsterfloofs · 1 year

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🐊🏋️💐

(also, what a cool idea for a challenge! hope this isn’t too odd of a combination, lol)

Rex (crocodile monster) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

( Hewwo!! Thank you so much for this prompt, I am sorry for the wait— but I am back on my monster creation challenge!! I hope everyone had a good holiday. ( ouo ) I think this story prompted me to make my own crocodile monster species. . . and it has lore <3<3<3 I hope you enjoy it!)

The town you had traveled to, had some fearsome local legends and history.

But what had drawn you the most to this place was the existence of folks you had never heard of, until one of them had saved your life.

Ruby Mandibles, is the name coined from the humans that lived in the little remote waterfront villages. They were sentient reptilian creatures that closely resembled a crocodile, their skin a bright scarlet hue with frills that looked like flowers blooming from their skin. Research provided that these frills helped them blend into the vast aquatic garden of red flowers that spanned across the water.

Some folks speculated they were a distant and strange relative to dragons or some other scaley leviathan. Many old stories told of legends, the last thing a lost and weary adventurer had seen, the gentle waving or ruby petals fanning in the waves, and the sudden snap of a crushing set of jaws.

You shuddered at the thought.

But now times were different, and things had. . . mostly changed. There was a rocky peacefulness between the two communities. The two parties no longer hunted one another, but fingers would be pointed and accusations would be drawn like knives and swords. They were beautiful predators, and about a thousand years in the past, they had been sought after for their teeth and skin. Which had turned the mandabiles into an enraged frenzy to get back at humans.

You took out your map and turned it this way and that, giving a wide berth to the red waving field of underwater flowers. While you weren’t exactly afraid of a thousand year old sport of snapping a human up for lunch, you have heard that a human had gotten hurt by being too close to the mandible’s hunting ground. Also, you were weary of the water now, your past accident that had plunged you under the waterline too fresh in your mind.

Choking and sputtering on the ground, eyes filled with tears and your lungs heaved, a large figure kneeling beside you, a heavy hand patting your back.

You keep a wary eye of where the ground drops off into the water. The plant life is so thick, all you can see is a forest of beautiful trailing flowers, eerily dancing in a nonexistent wind. You wondered how far down it went, then rescinded those thoughts almost immediately. Your mind jumps back to the map in your hands, feet shuffling forward, moving along the direction where you were told your rescuer lived.

Rex, was the name of the Ruby mandible who had plucked you from the water as if you were but a mere pebble in the water. You had been in a daze at the time, shivering in a blanket and unable to utter less than a few choice words. But the people who had known him, had called him Rex. The numb fingers of your mind had latched onto that name, waiting until your could better ask around to thank him.

Rex owned a flower shop, you had been told it was his pride and joy. Which had made your eyebrows raise, thinking back to the burly creature covered in scars and one cloudy eye.

Yet, as you dip your map down, you can see a little shop beginning to appear on the horizon. A cozy building, with round porthole shaped windows, and a behemoth of a door. As you got closer you could hear humming in a deep rough baritone.

“H-hello?” You call out and prickle as the air goes silent, a large red snout poking around the corner from the side of the house.

You raise a hand and give an awkward wave.

“H-hi there, uh R-Rex right? It’s me—“

“It is you!” With a bellow that just about knocks you backward, you find yourself being quickly confronted by a very large, very mean looking creature. But his intimidating presense doesn’t last long. He seizes your hand, his paw just about engulfed your forearm up to your elbow giving your arm a hearty shake. You now know how it feels to be an outdoor water pump. Throughly jostled, you wobble on the spot to regain your footing.

“Good to see you are still kicking around little thing!” He chortles,

“I was meaning to thank you—“

He cracked a wide toothy grin, “Pretty brave of you to march all the way over here to thank me, you must have a nose for trouble!”

You blink trying to figure out if he was joking, “I-I. . . I do?”

He barks a jolly guffaw, “Why I’m surprised you made it out all the way here, seein’ how cute you are!”

Oop— You blink, “I’m not cute!” You huff, but then lean back a little as he learns forward, looking you up and down.

“Coulda fooled me!”

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #sfw #crocodile monster x human #crocodile monster x reader #floofydoodles

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pureblisswrites · 10 months

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A guide to falling for a traitor 101

"He's watching us, isn't he?" You ask not making the mistake of making eye contact with the camera that's at the corner of the room.

"So what?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Can you switch it off?"

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x afab!reader (implied past Bang Chan x Reader)

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: Crime, mafia au, eventual romance

Warnings: general 'mafia' stuff, knives, (this has remnants of my wattpad phase in quite a few parts but we all need some cringe sometimes so it's fine... i guess. But I honestly cannot re-read and edit this one more time so I'm just posting now since someone asked so nicely)

Synopsis: You finally got to know who the mysterious traitor was in Bang Chan's gang. Now you just have to find out why he was one in the first place.

Bang Chan was a lot of things. But the one thing he wasn't was a liar. Specially not to his own allies. So when he said that his rival gang was treading his territories in the monthly alliance meeting, you believed him. Unlike most of the other leaders who still needed 'evidence' to do something about it. But honestly they were too scared to actually have a direct rivalry with Chan's rival gang. Again, unlike you but not for the reason most might think of.

You didn't have undying loyalty towards Chan or his gang or anyone to be honest. Call it shallow or whatever but you just couldn't give a single fuck about majority of the members of your gang with only one or two exceptions. Maybe you were a bad leader in the sense that you couldn't even remember the name of your own bodyguard. But you were a damn good leader in the sense that you'll always win. No matter what. You didn't have any 'rival' gangs because you knew there was something or rather, someone, like in this case of use. In your opinion, qualities like loyalty, trust, blah blah were all overrated. You'd rather have someone skilled than trustworthy which was exactly why you needed Chan and his other major members but specifically, one of them.

"I agree with Mr. Bang." You say quietly while looking at the other gang leaders who sat the huge table in Chan's mansion.

"But Ms-" One of the leaders started before you rudely cut him off because he had been getting on your nerves since the moment you entered the room. You were extremely observant, kind of came with the job. So you had noticed him looking at your chest more times than necessary. Specifically the ruby jewel necklace, (that you had stolen from him but who cared) that sat just atop your cleavage that was just slightly visible in the simple black dress you opted for. It had a slightly deep neckline and a slit near the thigh. Where a knife garter could be seen. Yeah you liked to look good in meetings and what about it?

"If that's all we have for today, can we leave?" You questioned while only looking at Chan, giving him the perfect moment to kick these assholes out.

"Yeah of course. Changbin, please escort these distinguished folks out." He said, politness dripping off his voice. Most would think he was respecting them by sending Changbin to show them out. Thing is, he was doing so, so that no on could look at anything longer than necessary or try to go here and there in the mansion to find things they weren't supposed to. Something you would be doing today. When everyone except you and Chan had left, you finally got up from you seat to walk towards him.

"You're still here? Ms-" you cut him off, something you couldn't do in a room full of people but now it was just you two.

"Cut the bullshit Chan." You rolled your eyes at him, again something you couldn't do while everyone else was present.

"Ugh fine. What do you want? I've got work to do." He finally said in his casual voice that was not as cold and distant yet held a politness to it. "And you've got to stop staying here until everyone else has gone or else they'll get the wrong idea."

"What wrong idea are you talking about, Chan? And would they really be wrong to think about something that has already happened?" You say while tracing the silver chain he was wearing around his neck.

"Oh my God it was one time alright? And we were drunk. Can you stop bringing it up? Get over it." He replied while holding your wrist to stop you from doing what you were doing.

"Oh please, there wasn't even anything to get over Bang. You know I don't do other leaders."

"Anymore. Since that one clan guy remember? The one who was the leader of a Yakuza and tried to make you sign a marriage agreement when you were drunk, to take your place." He almost laughed while recalling the incident.

"Can we not talk about that fucking asshole?" You gritted your teeth at him for bringing up past that you'd rather forget.

"Ooh someone's bitter." He teased with a grin.

"Fuck you." You rolled your eyes at him again.

"Are you really here to discuss your past failed relationships or to flirt with me though? I reckon you've got better things to do. So what do you want?" He finally got to the point.

"I want to meet that pharmacist kid you've got." You stated the reason you actually stayed here for.

"You do know that Jeongin is like a few months younger than you right?" Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"And?" You asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you want to meet him anyways?" He questioned.

"Because my pharmacist died. And I need an arsenic trioxide injection."

"Wait how did he die?" He asked.

"Heart attack."

"Oh the irony. Alright. Just leave that knife here." He gestured towards the garter on your thigh.

"Chill. I'm not here to murder someone."

"Safety precautions." He shrugged.

"Fine." You say while taking out the knife from the garter. "But do you really think this is the only knife I've got?"

"No. I know both of your heels have knives in them too. And that pin you're wearing in your hair. And-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. You're the all knowing, all mighty Chris. Whatever. Do I have to take all of this off too?"

"No it's fine. I just liked the one you had in your garter. It's mine now right?" He twisted the knife between his fingers swiftly.

"As if I've got a choice. But just so you know, that knife is the last thing my mother left before dying."

"Oh I didn't know that I'm s-"

"I'm kidding. As if I could ever care about whatever that woman left. Now I'll get going to meet your kid." You start to walk away from his office.

"Wait 'til Changbin gets back." He called out.

"Jeez I'm not going anywhere else. I know you've got camera footages in your office. And I know your mansion enough by now to find that kid." You looked back at him.

"Fine then. Just take the lift by the way.”

"You... installed a lift in your house?" You asked incredulously.

"I didn't okay! It was Jisung's idea. Said he couldn't climb stairs everyday after sitting in a chair for hours. That it was affecting his hacking skills or whatever."

"You've got weird members dude." You say before taking off to meet the person you came to meet.

You take the ridiculously expensive lift (like seriously did it need to be silver plated? Fucking show offs) to go down to the basement where you know the kid genius' lab resides. You open the door that looks like it could belong to a bunker tank. And then you finally see him. The one who've been waiting to see for a few months now since you got that piece of information.

Yang Jeongin. Science prodigy. Passed high school at age 11 and graduated at 14. Could be seen in newspapers and tv shows in those 3 years freuqently. Winning international intellectual debates against some of the greatest scientists arguably. And then, missing. One day at 16. Out of nowhere. Police carried out the investigation for 5 years until they had to drop it due to lack of evidence and progress. How he got into this fucked up underground world from a world of glory and fame that awaited him up there, no one knows. He was a genius. Someone you didn't see often in the field of work you're in.

You see him working with test tubes and vials containing chemicals of different colours. The room itself is pretty dark with the only source of light being a small bulb that hangs above his head. You can even see some chemicals glowing. He's wearing transparent safety googles, a pair of expensive industrial ear muffs and of course, his signature lab coat. He looks concentrated on the task which was apparently mixing chemicals here and there. He suddenly stops before mixing two chemicals he had been working on since you came here and puts the tubes in the holder. Removing his muffs and ruffling his hair that had gotten messy due to them. And then you finally here his voice.

"Arsenic trioxide, 10ml to your right." He says in a voice that's much colder than even Chan's and gestures towards your right with his eyes. You look to your right and see a tiny vial with an injection on a pink vinyl player of all things.

"Right. Thanks." You reply taking both of the things and putting them in your dress pockets. When you don't leave and just stare at him expectantly he raises his eyebrows in a silent 'what'.

"Can you get out now? I've got work to do." So alike Chan yet so different.

"And you think I don't? I'm literally a-" he cuts you off, quite rudely at that.

"Do I look like I give a fuck, sweetheart?” He tilts his head as if he's asking you an actual question. “I'll say it one more time, get out. I've got work to do.” he says with that innocent smile.

"Go on then. I'm not stopping you."

"I would gladly do so if that didn't mean making you go deaf. You think I'm wearing these for style?" He gestures towards the muffs.

Ok so he wasn't one for small talk. You'll just have to get to the point then. You walk towards him until you're just an inch away from him. He doesn't even flinch or backs up. So unlike all the other men you've met. With an exception of Chan of course but that's not surprising considering Chan is an exception to everything in this world you live in. You whisper to him. "He's watching us, isn't he?" You ask not making the mistake of making eye contact with the camera that's at the corner of the room.

"So what?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Can you switch it off?"

"Why?" He questions again now furrowing his brows.

"Will you just do as I say?"

"Yeah because I know you so well right." He rolls his eyes, not budging at all.

"What do you think I'm gonna do if you turn it off? Kill you?"

"As if you've even got the guts to do that." He scoffs.

"Yeah exactly. So what's the problem? Why can't you just do as I say for once?

"For once? What do you mean?"

"Forget it. I know you're a traitor." You whisper.

His eyes widen significantly and that's the first time today you've seen any emotion on his face other than indifference.

"Wha- but how-" he stutters while trying to find the right words. Finally listening to you and switching the camera off.

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madarasgirl · 1 year

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Twin Flames- Chapter Four

“You still don’t seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine.”

“Sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader

For my biggest fan @margretesonigiri. I hope you like this chapter! Happy Birthday Izuna, Obito! 🥳🤗 On AO3

Warnings: Romance, flirting, angst, drama, hurt/comfort Words: 4515

Examining yourself in the mirror from every angle, even you had to admit you looked impeccable.

You decided to go pro with your hair and makeup tonight. You wanted to look good for this party. You wanted to look amazing for Madara. A subtle glimmer veiled the eyeshadow, accentuating the shape of your eyes framed by long lashes. Slight contouring brought out the definition on your features, a peachy blush you suspected you won’t need once you saw Madara kissing the apples of your cheeks. Most of your hair was pinned back in an elaborate display of curls and ribbon, with wisps of loosely curled strands coming down the sides of your head ending past the shoulders. It wasn’t like you didn’t recognize yourself, but it was rather unusual for you to spend such time and effort on your appearances. The end result was worth it for this event.

Madara arrived to pick you up tonight at your door, a black SUV with his chauffeur attending downstairs.

Madara regarded you in appreciation. You looked better than good. You were hot, touched by a hint of innocence. The curled strands falling down to frame the sides of your face made you look as if you’d just gotten out of bed, but it was sexy and tasteful. It wasn’t too coiffed and artificial. He couldn’t get enough of the sight of you.

“It seems I haven’t invited you to enough of these events. You look stunning Y/N,” Madara rasped, continuing to appraise everything about you and continuing to discover more to behold. Your gorgeous face, the hair, your dress, the nails. You wore the ruby and gold necklace he gifted you. He meticulously eyed the designs on your legs. Like the first date, he picked up your hand to kiss the back. This time, you didn’t go brain dead. You stepped close, brushing your fingers down his chest and claiming his lips briefly. Madara’s presence went to your crotch. She stirred, as if waking from slumber for the first time in too long. It may have been freezing outside, but neither of you were going to feel it.

“As do you.” He donned a tuxedo for tonight. It had to be tailored for him, the cut hugging his hips and chest, the image of perfection. He was the picture of a sophisticated gentleman, one who exuded a mysterious charm and held an edge of danger. Such resemblance to the knives and swords he created. He was extraordinarily handsome and you couldn’t believe he was your date for the night.

You smiled shyly, allowing him the pleasure of leading you to his vehicle while he gallantly offered his arm.

The privacy display was activated, shielding the driver from whatever the occupants behind did. Madara popped open a bottle of champagne and offered a bubbly chute. “For you.”

You accepted the glass, thanking him for inviting you tonight. “It’s my honour to have you with me,” he replied smoothly. The seats were soft, a burgundy leather. Patterned wood trim framed multiple surfaces in the passengers’ area. Jazz filled this space, the brass instruments setting up a classy ambient atmosphere for the ride.

Gasping, your eyes were trained frantically in the direction of the driver as Madara slid up to you, not touching, but close enough to feel his breath and body heat. He closed the distance between you, a hand sneaking under your knee-length coat and coming to rest on your thigh.

“He can’t hear or see us.” When you didn’t resist, fingers skimmed the surface of your sheer floral-patterned pantyhose, coming inches up your legs until he halted at a location that was still safe enough to be considered somewhat decent. His face was close, discerning gaze carefully watching your expression, as if he was waiting for permission.

Frozen, your mind flew through what was happening. This was Madara who was touching you. You opened your legs a fraction, but that was all he needed. His hand traveled more as he tilted his head before he once again took your lips. Madara was patient and gentle, his touch remaining light. He didn’t grab your crotch like he yearned to. Instead, he stayed tantalizingly at the junction between groin and inner thigh to pet the spot, while his other arm went around your back to pull you slightly towards him.

You didn’t stop him from doing more. From the onset, you were never against a physical relationship with Madara, although your preference was to become more familiar before engaging in such acts. You didn’t realize you were clutching his quads.

“I told you I will wait for you,” he whispered against your temple, pulling his limbs back to himself.

You licked your lips, cursing when you realized you ate some of the lip gloss.

---------------

Stepping foot inside the venue, you looked around in wonder as you entered with Madara. The opulence was astounding. The foyer was incredibly grand, covered in gold-veined marble floors, intricately carved stone statues artistically lining the walls, the ceilings were so high you could barely make out the details at the top. It was like you went back in time to a historical ball. The men were dapper, the women garbed in sumptuous ball gowns and jewels.

You could swear it got quieter as you and Madara arrived. What an attractive pair you made. People were staring. Though Madara was clearly the one who brought you, the one who was personally invited to a gathering of this class, you were the one who attracted these strangers’ attention. Numerous men, some elegant, some appearing haughtier than others, evaluated your appearance and presence, seemingly pleased by what met the eyes. Several greeted Madara and you in polite acquaintance.

It was the women who made you self-conscious. Some studied you in a peculiar way, their shrewd judgment making you squirm in discomfort. You couldn’t discern what they said to each other or their partners, but that didn’t matter.

"Keep your chin up. These people are no better than you." Madara commented flatly, leading you through the palatial grounds. You and Madara exchanged more cordial greetings with multiple other guests before you were led to your seats. A busser nodded at you and Madara in respect, “My lady, what would you like to drink?” You requested scotch. You knew you needed social lubricant again to survive this night. You plucked some hor d’oeuvres from servers circulating around the hall with trays of appetizers.

Madara chuckled, “Already starting with the strong liquor? There’s a long night ahead.”

“Madara! Let me be! I’ve never been to this formal an event before! This is white tie!” You were so worried you’d make a fool of yourself, which would reflect poorly on Madara. Good thing you consulted the professionals with your makeup and hair for tonight.

“Y/N, remember you are with me. Do not accept disrespect from anyone.”

Appreciating his sentiment, you nodded at him, but didn’t feel settled. You nibbled on your hor d’oeuvres and sipped the single malt scotch, reveling in every bite. Wow, the refreshments were tasty.

Madara continued to make light-hearted chatter with you, as if this were merely another casual date, in an attempt to soothe your nerves. He was somewhat successful.

He stood gracefully and held his hand out to you. “Y/N, dance with me.” Oh my, you took a few lessons in ballroom when you were a teenager, but that knowledge was long gone. Neither did you expect your first rodeo in years to be at such a high caliber. Not wanting to disappoint, you accepted Madara’s offer, but warned you weren’t very skilled.

He was so warm, his gaze affectionate as he walked with you to the dance floor where other couples already took their spots. Goodness, there were more spectators now. “Follow me. I will lead you.”

You were stepping to the rhythm slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick…this was a rumba. Under normal circumstances, you’d be bopping along to the sensual lyrics, but right now you could only focus on the drums which were keeping the beat, praying you didn’t misstep. You couldn’t help looking down at your feet to ensure their placement.

Madara was an excellent dancer. It was hard for others to differentiate from a distance, but so close, you saw the edges of his lips were pointed up in a tiny smile directed solely at you. Each step brushed the floor before he set his foot down, pushing your dress aside. He knew exactly where you were and never stepped on your feet or dress. He never looked down, the entirety of his attention focused on you. He signaled to pull you in, push you out. He twirled you. You and him were rhythm. Moving in tune to the beat with Madara’s body was intoxicating, but after one final spin, it all ended too soon. The song was over. There was clapping, even if it was drowned out by the ethereal feeling of you and Madara being the lone occupants on the floor.

The lights struck his figure in such a way. It accentuated the blue undertones of his hair, highlighted the refined arches of his cheekbones. It casted shadow upon his musculature, emphasizing his solid build through the layers of tuxedo. He was excruciatingly beautiful.

In the few moments when you were still in his arms, staring at each other after your first dance, he cupped your face and kissed you deeply in front of everyone. Your eyes were saucers. Madara never claimed you like that in public. Many guests paused to observe the spectacle.

He brought you back to your table and seated you. Bringing his hand to gently stroke the side of your head without tousling your locks, he murmured into your ear, telling you he had to attend to a quick business matter, but he will return to you soon.

He was leaving you alone! You fretted internally, anxiety once again hitting you like bricks, even if you agreed to Madara’s arrangement.

Quietly cutting a piece of the entrée that was served moments ago and gingerly placing it in your mouth, you glanced around the table. Every seat was now filled with men and women as dressed up as the ones you saw when you first entered the building. You nodded in greeting. Two different couples returned the pleasantry and you introduced yourself.

“Y/N? Such a beautiful name. How do you know Mr. Uchiha?” The lady of a kindly-looking couple asked you.

Mr. Uchiha? Sounded silly to you. You avoided the question, not about to disclose the website that brought you back into each other’s lives. “We met at the hospital when Izuna was sick.”

“Do you work at the hospital? Which one? Are you a doctor?” A different woman spoke up, this one immediately setting off a feeling of dislike in you. Her calculating gaze rolled over you in evaluation. It was mocking, the disdain close to the surface. “Please excuse me for my prodding inquiries, we’ve never seen Madara invite anyone other than Izuna to an event before!”

She called him ‘Madara,’ much more informal than the first woman. She must be closer to him or higher in hierarchy than the other guest. “I’m a nurse.”

Yet another pair chimed in. “Nursing is tough these days. It must be extremely difficult for you and your colleagues. Thank you what you do.” There were mutters of agreement from other guests.

You accepted their sentiment with grace.

“A nurse? Such a noble and devoted profession. So giving of yourselves, you even opted to follow your patrons all this way well after your services were no longer deemed necessary. Madara inspires such obsession, doesn’t he?” That beautiful woman you were already wary of offered you a sweet smile.

Pardon me?

You knew this woman was trying to humiliate you for your serving profession, but you weren’t biting. You were proud of and competent at what you did. And in your opinion, your job was vital to society and more important than a respectable number of people’s, including some of the ones seated at this table, even if they may be more finely dressed on a regular day.

She was also calling you a whore. Words were her weapon, carefully chosen to slice with precision like a scalpel. You tried to take the high road.

“Yes, I’ve made a difference in many people’s lives. Seems I can appreciate life more than most people can.” And you believed you did. You’ve seen the best and worst in people, seen as families clung to hope where there was none, and even then the families sometimes forced their will upon your colleagues. They may have screamed and thrown things and legally threatened. You’ve been forced to attempt every possible measure to ‘save’ those patients, because the family still believed their loved ones will pull through and walk out alive, no different from before they were first hospitalized. It was akin to torture, prolonging the suffering of these people for what could be months or more, as they wasted away, growing necrotic, their flesh sloughing off, dying multiple times as you were required to attempt resuscitation, breaking their ribs and continuing the horrible cyclical process over again. All that remained were the empty husks of bodies that still produced vital signs, until eventually even those shut down and the bodies could finally rest.

What you were forced to do was sometimes beyond inhumane.

You could appreciate the preciousness of life in a way many people will never understand. At the end of road, there was no difference whether you were a pauper or filthy rich. You couldn’t take any of that with you when you die. What did this woman know about life, or suffering? How could someone so ignorant even deign to comment on your service? Fury started to build in your mind.

Was life only the vapid pursuit of a hedonistic existence to a portion of these other guests here, whose festivities you’ve intruded upon? Where was Madara? You didn’t like it here. The mood grew tense at this table. You could probably hear a pin drop despite the background clamour of the party.

Deciding you had enough, you rose. “Excuse me,” you stated, before walking off to search for the restroom. You heard tittering as you left and internally scoffed at whoever made that sound, probably a Karen. Very mature. You came here to be with Madara, not to compete in petty rich people duels. You would much rather stumble around in a rumba with Madara than participate in this other type of social dance.

“Karen.” Another guest spoke in warning, but you’d already left.

---------------

Coming out of the single stall, you flattened your dress against yourself. There she was again, the wolf in sheepskin. She was finishing her touchups. Seriously, she followed you here? You groaned to yourself, not wanting to deal with her right now. Or at all.

She pretended your presence piqued her surprise. Snapping the mini compact shut, she stared you directly in the eyes.

“It was a fabulous performance you gave earlier! First time dancing?” She asked with a pleasant tone, yet her expression betrayed her snideness.

“Indeed. First time in a long while.” You replied tightly.

“I’m astonished! I never thought a newborn elephant could dance, it was absolutely enchanting. I’m sure many patrons haven’t been so entertained in some time.” She washed her hands, flicking excess water off, some hitting you, before drying her hands properly on a plush square towel. “Your dress! Excuse me!”

Anger coursed through your veins. She was getting bolder with your meek retorts, not even trying to veil her insults anymore. If you had a single useful thought in your hollow, elitist brain, every day you would learn many new things. How does Madara bear these people?

She insincerely apologized for splashing your gown. “Y/N, I am doing you a favour by approaching you about this. Someone like Madara will grow bored of you once he tires of lowborn novelty. He doesn’t love you. You will only be hurt by attempting to reach too far up.”

Attempting to reach too far up. Gritting your teeth, you replied, "Your bearing should make you much nobler than me, but it’s unfortunate money can't buy class." You gave her a wholly unimpressed stare. You weren’t interested in her pontification. “My relationship with Madara doesn’t concern you.” It was complicated and only between you and him, even if you’ve also been ruminating on the nature of your relationship lately. Finished your business in the restroom, you exited the premises to find your way back to your seat.

She sneered at you, condescension rolling off every fiber of her being. As if speaking with you was beneath her dignity, she snapped. "A commoner should learn etiquette before sullying spaces above her station."

You tried to think quickly, understanding Madara is higher in the social food chain than anyone here. You will likely be forgiven for saying something impolite, yet you wanted to return a witty remark, one that won’t be too crass or embarrass Madara. Your rage won out instead. How dare she. You were tired of trying to wrack your head for false niceties in comebacks.

With your heart pounding, your voice was filled with vitriol. “Are you a bitch just today or every day?”

She smirked derisively, as if she won the battle by making you break face and curse first. Her patronizing smirk transformed into a look of utter aghast in an instant.

Madara regarded her coldly and she slunk down in deference, but not surrendering entirely. “If a commoner must learn etiquette before showing their face, tell me, are you a commoner?”

She parted her mouth to speak.

“Do you think me tasteless, woman?”

“I would never dare, Madara!”

“You may not address me by my name. You assume to be more familiar than you are. I asked if you are a commoner.”

Madara acknowledged you by glancing down, before his icy furious gaze found its original target again. She hadn’t strung together another eloquent sentence since Madara’s arrival, her previous conceit gone.

“Hn. I suppose a lowborn wretch wouldn’t have the capacity to recognize your betters unless it was spelled out for you. By ‘your betters’ I mean Y/N, who has demonstrated grace and etiquette despite your continued baseless denigration. There is only one commoner here and it isn’t who you thought.”

Guests at the surrounding tables went silent at the exchange, nosy yet uncomfortable with such obvious conflict at a major gathering. The woman gawked, not yet having recovered her meager wits.

Madara maintained his glower at her. “She is with me. That was all you needed to know.” He took your hand and led you away. Madara had no issue with finishing his dinner in an awkward silence at their table. Let them say what they will about him. But you didn’t deserve this kind of poor treatment.

“Do you want to stay here or leave?” He asked you.

Grimacing, you confessed. "I don't like this place. It’s too stiff and the people are like cats."

---------------

Madara summoned his driver and you left together.

The adrenaline rush over, you suddenly felt very small around Madara, the subject of your affections who you were brutally informed was someone that shouldn’t be yours. “I’m sorry if my conversation with that woman was inappropriate at any point and if it reflects badly on you. I said some foul things too.”

You’ve never seen Madara verbally vicious, although you were certain he had it in him. You were aware he was harsher with strangers than you and Izuna. Seeing his wrath was still an experience.

“Don’t apologize for rightfully defending yourself. I shouldn’t have left you by yourself for as long as I did.” You shook your head to inform him he was not at fault. Madara was beyond rage that anyone dared insult or belittle you. That someone found an opportunity to lash you with such venomous words when he wasn’t present to defend you. “I’m sorry you went through that. Are you okay?”

Not looking at him, you asked, “Who was that?” You curled against your protector.

Madara snorted. “No one of importance. She was someone who wanted to arrange an engagement with either me or Izuna long ago, but we never gave her the time of day. Seems she forgot about everything except her unwarranted bloated opinion of herself.”

The woman was way out of line. No one else at the party treated you with such contempt, even if they viewed themselves superior. You understood this, but you weren’t used to conflict. Heart still pounding hard in your chest, you were severely shaken by the confrontation now that it was over, especially when some of that woman’s appalling sentiments were in truth thoughts you also considered.

---------------

You could tell Madara was still livid when you entered his penthouse together and he tossed his keys on the counter. He was already pulling off his tuxedo and loosening the bowtie as he tousled his hair and exhaled forcefully. You stayed close to the grand entrance momentarily before following him inside. You were quiet, slow, and methodical when you removed your winter coat and placed it on a leather chair.

Madara was suddenly in front of you, tucking you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a kiss harder than he had ever given you. Gasping, you pulled from him and looked away, feeling heavily conflicted.

“Y/N?”

You took several steps back, praying the distance will help clear your mind. It was futile.

Trembling, your voice broke. "She wasn’t completely wrong…I don't belong with you. We're from completely different worlds. You should be with someone better than me. Someone beautiful, elegant, from a higher family more suited to your station."

Madara's face was blank. "Yet I am with you, no?"

You couldn’t find solace in his words. "I’m just a normal person, Madara. And I don't want you to buy me things, I was never cut out to be a sugar baby, it seems. Yet I stick out like a sore thumb even more among your wealthy crowd without those luxury items. I can’t do this anymore."

Tears trailed down your face and you sniffed helplessly, swiping your hands across your eyes repeatedly to remove the salty fluid, loathing your weakness in front of him yet again.

Madara straightened, stiff as a board. His voice was cooler. He didn’t pursue when you stepped away from him. "It was my assumption that was the way those sorts of relationships worked."

He agrees we are on different levels. Your eyes watered more at the confirmation on the nature of your relationship. His money and prestige for your time and sex. You didn’t even put out for him.

Yet…you wanted to be with him, even if it would only be a coupling of bodies and you wouldn’t claim all of him. It hurt immensely, but you couldn't get enough of this man, like you were a moth drawn to flame. From the beginning, it felt like there was something deep, like you were meant to be with Madara. But the more you reflected on your relationship, the more it was apparent it didn’t matter whether Madara was actually fond of you or if he regarded you as paid-for company. The extreme difference in social status wasn’t so easily overcome. Steeling your resolve, you looked him in the eyes, hands quivering as they went to your back to undo the zipper, opening your dress to start slipping it off.

Madara watched you in bewildered rapture at first, his gaze tracing every movement revealing increasing tracts of bare skin. Your delicate lace bra came into view once your top was exposed. He wanted you so much it was painful. But…he also wanted you to want this. He wished for you to enjoy being with him so much you'd keep choosing to return to him whenever you desired intimacy. He hated this nervous look of coercion painted on your features. Hated your tears. This was wrong.

He stopped you part way, grasping your hands in his, then sliding your loose clothing back over your shoulders. "No, not like this. Never like this." His grip was hard.

Something in Madara cracked, his piercing gaze pinning you. “This misplaced sense of inferiority in you is unbecoming. Did you think I let merely anyone into my home? Into my life?” He stalked towards you as you slinked away, until he had you cornered against the walls. “Or that I would turn over one of my properties to someone insignificant to me?”

He had to stop. This was no way to speak to someone he held dear.

Madara closed his eyes, jaws clenched, his frustration flaring. Irritation he didn’t realize he could feel towards you coiled in his chest. He allowed several moments to pass, to collect himself before he could verbalize truly malignant words. After all this time, how could you not know? What was this unsightly self-pity? His mouth pulled into a tight line, gathering his thoughts as he calmed himself. He wouldn’t be cruel, not to you.

"You still don't seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine."

“Meddling fools may be incapable of seeing your radiance and don’t deserve your company. That isn’t our concern. I’d rather you don’t fit in with trifling superficial crowds. What we have was never ‘those sorts of relationships’ you’re assuming.” He glared at you.

You were still gaping with an astonished expression, trapped between a wall and his sturdy body. You were shaking, close to hyperventilating. Madara took in your anguished state. This was agony for him too. He sat you on the floor, pulling you between his legs and into his body. Your heaving breaths eventually slowed and tears dried as you leaned against him, feeling uncertain in his embrace, but not yet wanting to leave. He wants me for me, the obvious conclusion settling in. You huddled up with your head nestled into his neck and he breathed you in.

It was late when you spoke again. “Madara? I’d like to go home tonight.”

“This is one of your homes. This place is yours now in every way except in title.” Madara felt uneasy now that the storm that was his temper passed, hoping he didn’t say too much. He held you more tightly.

“No, I’d like to go back to my home tonight. I can’t be here right now. Please. I need to be alone.” You pleaded, hoping he’d understand. “I’ll pack my things and call for a ride.”

He snorted, the notion you wanted to pack your belongings to abandon your home absurd to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I will take you home if you insist. It’s the middle of the night in freezing weather.” He was not letting you go that easily. You were his.

~To be continued~

---------------

Notes:

A gentle reminder that while Madara is softer with Izuna and her, he isn’t soft. Drama finds the drama king, who still wields a way with words like a kunai.

#uchiha madara #madara #madara uchiha #madara fanfiction #madara x reader #madara x you #madara x y/n #Protect Me Forever

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thefangirlthatwaited · 26 days

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New Light (Chapter 17) - A Destiny 2 Story

Cayde x Guardian

The next morning, I woke to banging on my door. I grumbled as I pulled myself out of bed and opened the door to stare bleary-eyed at Cayde.

“What?” I mumbled.

“Get dressed. I want you in the training ring in ten minutes.”

I yawned. “Why?”

“Just be there,” he grumbled before leaving.

I stared at the door after it closed, confused at what was going on. I figured I should do as I was told, so I changed into my armour, grabbed my weapons, and headed to the training ring.

“What do you think he has planned?” Stell asked as the sparring ring came into view.

“I don’t know, but I wish it could have waited a few more hours. I’m still exhausted from the bounties I did for Petra.

Inside, I spotted Cayde leaning on a wall, playing with a knife. I made my way towards him, still half asleep and confused about why he demanded that I be here this early. When he saw me approach, he slipped the knife in his hand and dived at me. I dodged to the side, avoiding the attack.

“The hell, Cayde!” He turned back towards me, his grip on the knife tightening.

“Fight me, no guns,” he growled.

I stared, still surprised at his attack, before I dropped my guns, pulled one of my knives from my boot, and dodged his next attack.

I skidded on the dirt, and then the sound of metal knives filled the area.

Cayde stood taller than me and tried to use his size against me as he tried to overpower me. He swiped twice with his knife, and I took a step back to dodge, and he took that chance to hook his foot behind me, sending me tumbling backwards. I landed on the ground, air leaving my lungs as Cayde tried to dive on top of me. I rolled away as he came crashing down where I was just lying. He stood shaking the dirt off himself before returning to the fight. We continued like this for a bit, and none of us actually landed any blows. It all ended with Cayde above me, knife to my throat, and my arms pinned.

“Not bad. You need to work on a few things, but you are a solid Hunter.” He said as I tried to pull free. I called forth Arc energy into my hand, and I discharged it using the one place I could reach him, sending him off me.

“I said-” he began to say, but I cut him off, brushing the dirt off me.

“You said not guns; you never said anything about abilities. Anyway, why pull me out of bed at the crack of dawn?”

“I wanted to see if you could hold your own against someone powerful.” He explains as he puts his knives away.

“Okay?”

He sighs. “If you are my second in command, I want to make sure you can hold your own.”

“Alright,” I said, turning to grab my guns, but Cayde’s firm grip on my hand stopped me in my tracks.

“I also wanted to talk to you about yesterday.” I looked at him, eyebrow raised. “We can’t be anything more than friends.”

I scoffed, pulling my hand free. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t feel anything between us? Let’s be friends,” I retorted, my voice laced with anger and hurt.

I could see the sadness on his face. “No. That isn’t what I mean. I’m Hunter Vanguard; I can’t be with one of my Hunters.”

I rolled my eyes. “You choose to break the rules all the time, but not this one. That’s fine. Friends, it is.”

“Ruby, this is different.”

“Is it? Regardless, I won’t fight you about it. I’ll move on. I’ll see you back at home.” I could see he wanted to say more, but let me leave without another word. Knowing he had feelings for me didn’t help; knowing he wouldn’t act on them didn’t help me feel better. Now I know, but it doesn’t change anything. I was better off moving on.

Full Chapter on Ao3

#destiny 2 #archive of our own #ao3 #destiny 2 fanfic #cayde 6 x guardian #cayde6 #cayde 6 #destiny cayde #destiny 2 cayde6 #destiny 2 cayde 6

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sunstaar · 2 years

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Milk Teeth

Kakashi Week 2022 | Day 3: Broken Fang

Word Count: 1,6k

@kakashiweek , Ao3

Warning: mentions of death, suicide & graphic descriptions

Summary: There was no going back to minutes before, Kakashi quickly realized, because what was broken would remain unsalvageable.

Kakashi could remember the day his childhood ended vividly. As though it were a memory burned into a vinyl played on a broken record of his life, it continued on and on without coming to a halt, still as graphic and intense as the day it happened. His mind was clutching onto the vibrant last image of his own flesh and blood, of the man who was supposed to raise him into the Shinobi he had always dreamed of being: an exact mirror image of the man whose blood was staining the floor of their home crimson.

His small and nimble fingers wrapped around the long silver hair with several strands stained a bright ruby red, a shade that easily transferred to his pale skin. Each time he desperately pulled at the hair to evoke some kind of reaction from his father, the red spread more and more through the silver. More than the man ever did, he appeared almost foreign to Kakashi, like someone the young boy did not really know anymore. The face underneath the facade his father had worn for the last few months was like the mask had slipped off to reveal the sunken face underneath, combined with skin paler than Kakashi’s and more wrinkles than mere months before making his features appear older. His mouth hung open like the man had been startled or had inhaled deeply, his chest falling ever so slowly as air escaped through his mouth.

His father- no, the decaying body of the man who once was his father smelled of despair. Around it lingered the scent of forgiveness and hopelessness, misery, distress, and heartache mixed in between.

The cold hardwood floor had Kakashi’s knees aching terribly. He no longer could feel the coldness seeping into every muscle of his body, tainting his pale skin a colour to resemble blue. By now, his limbs felt almost numb, unmoveable, and rooted into place, his eyes staring blankly ahead as tears decorated the corners of them. His fingers were still partially tangled into his father's hair, no longer to evoke a reaction, but rather to hold onto the reality of things.

At that moment, Kakashi thought he truly was going mad.

It had to be a dream, hadn’t it? His father, not the man onto whose body he was holding, would never do such a thing to him, to his only child, his supposedly beloved son? The man who had become a widow shortly after his birth, who vowed to always be there for his child, the same man wouldn’t do such a heinous thing, such a rotten thing to his own flesh and blood.

Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang of the Leaf, his father, he wouldn’t do such a thing … or would he?

The facade the man had worn had practically been stitched onto his features, and now it lay in shambles beside his son. His hands had turned a stark white and the muscles clenched to a point that even if Kakashi had dared to try, he would not be able to move them away from the knife protruding from the man’s stomach. It was easy to recognize the weapon as one of the knives from the kitchen in their home, the same one his father had sharpened just the day before.

Could Kakashi have known?

The blood on his young hands had begun to dry by now, resting in the creases of his hand for him to later scrub away along with his skin. The young boy did not care much, his hands shaking as he reached out for his father, to try to get the man to wake up. His mind was in shambles, making up things that were fibs, the furthest thing away from the truth. His pair of charcoal eyes, a perfect copy of the ones of his father, were playing along with the deception, showing him what he perceived to be movement, his father’s chest rising again.

And yet, his father was no more, only his decaying body remaining. The stench already made it obvious, wafting within the room and smelling of a mixture of blood, fluids, and a metallic aftertaste. It made breathing difficult and had Kakashi coughing more than once, bile beginning to claw its way up his throat.

Kakashi’s jaw clenched hard to keep himself from throwing up. The anger and frustration building up in his small body were too big to be held within, and desperately searched for an outlet. Unintentionally, he bit down on one of his front teeth with enough force to have the milk tooth fall out sooner than expected, blood beginning to seep out of the wound. For a moment, Kakashi thought about swallowing the tooth, but then pulled down his mask to spit it out instead. Loudly, it landed on the wooden floor and stopped beside his knee, the ectodermal organ appearing all bloodied and even broken into several pieces.

Kakashi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring the sticky feeling of the mixture of his own blood and spit against his skin. Then, he swallowed harshly and adjusted his mask again to conceal a sob pushing past his lips. It got stuck in his throat instead, feeling all heavy and searching for release.

Carefully, he picked up the pieces of his milk tooth and took them into his hand, pushing them around in hasty motions as though he could make them whole again, form what had once been, have the pieces be as they had been before the tooth broke apart. Though, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he adjusted the placement, the pieces did not fit together anymore, almost like they weren’t meant to. There was no going back to minutes before, Kakashi quickly realized, because what was broken would remain unsalvageable.

With the tooth in hand, he clenched his hand closed.

He was the only living person in that room, beside him, there was no one else anymore, and there would never be someone again. Of his clan, of the Hatake, he was the last, and more so than ever, the crest neatly stitched onto his clothing felt heavy and itchy against his skin.

Kakashi had always been rather mature for his age, and that much was obvious to anyone who took only one glance at the small boy or heard him speak for less than a minute. Beyond his age, he was wise and intelligent, able to figure out things his peers and those older than him could not.

Death, however, was incomprehensible, even to a prodigy such as himself.

For what felt like hours, Kakashi could merely stare at the rotting body sprawled across the floors of his home, the place where he was supposed to feel safest. The stench had crawled through his mask by now, leaving him shaking with tears pooling in his eyes, occasionally falling down his pale cheeks before soaking his mask. Why exactly he was crying, Kakashi could not tell. He only knew that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. The tears just kept coming, rolling down his cheeks one by one, the only proof of its existence the tracks they left behind all the way to the edge of his now wet mask. His vision had begun to blur by now, only the outline of his father’s body visible to him. The entire image, however, was already burned into his mind, destined to remain there forever.

Kakashi thought that until the next day was to arise, he would be stuck in the room with his father, unable to move even one muscle. His body was fixated, and his muscles had clenched so hard, that he could not move them no matter how hard he tried. The frigidness of the room no longer affected him, his body entirely numb.

Loneliness was an emotion he had never let bother him. With his father by his side, Kakashi had never felt like he had experienced it. And yet, here he was, alone in the room, the only sensation keeping him grounded was the milk tooth in his clenched hand, pressing against his skin. Nothing besides the tooth he could feel, the rest of his body entirely numb to any feeling. He was holding onto it tightly as though it were worth something, as though it hadn’t just ended, as though it were still a piece of him. It was the only thing keeping him stable at that moment, keeping him somewhat sane.

And what felt like days had gone by since he had walked into the room, a large presence announced itself at the door. The shadow was large from what Kakashi could tell and had he been able to turn his head around, he would’ve seen the aghast look the large Sannin’s face took on.

Stuck in his own body, the voice surrounding him sounded muffled to Kakashi. A pair of large hands heaved up his small body, not even half the size of the large man, and pressed his small face against the shoulder of the man. Later in life, Kakashi assumed it had been done to hide away the sight of his father’s body from him, not knowing that it was too late already.

The sight, the smell, everything was a part of him now, one he could not erase from his memories.

The last thing Kakashi could remember from the day his childhood ended was being carried out of the room smelling so strongly of blood, bodily fluids, and metal, with the unsalvageable pieces of his milk tooth pressing against the now calloused skin of his palm.

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