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#I was like ‘wHAT WHATS THIS NEW WORDS??? THAT WAS SO SMOOTH AAAA’
thebellearchives · 9 months
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HELLO and congrats on the followers milestone!! Yippeee!!! You probably saw this coming fdjhvjj there's so many good prompts to choose from aaaa but i think i'll go with "You're the best thing to have ever happened to me" with Solomon hehe thank you!! I love your works 🫶🫶
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𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃
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~ solomon ; obey me
✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : when Solomon’s staring at you you probably have no idea of the amount of things that go through his head
‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff
‧₊˚ a / n : omg thank you sooo much Ven!! I really called upon my inner poet on this one, hope you enjoy! thanks for loving my writing i love you 🥹🫶🏻
prompt list
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Solomon’s gaze is fixed on you, and it has been for a while. He examines your pretty lashes, your smooth skin, alluring lips. He swears he’s engraved the curves that form every single one of your hair strands on the back of his mind. He’s been so absorbed in the sight of you that he can hear his heated up heartbeat drumming in his ears. Humanity’s strongest sorcerer has been bewitched by you.
The curse of immortality is a heavy one. He has lived a life that counts as many, he has stories for days, for months. His pupils have seen heaven and hell, he’s seen creatures that are believed to be fairy tales and some that don’t even exist anymore. His body has felt all kinds of emotions, fear, surprise, adoration, betrayal, grief. He’s been hurt and rejected, praised and admired.
And yet when you’re close to him it all ceases to exist. All the pain, the loneliness and despair make sense. All the marvelous experiences pale in comparison to being in your presence. All of the things that are encapsulated in his immortality are suddenly worth living again if it means he’ll get back to you in the end.
You raise your eyes and stare at him, the curiosity that shines in them each time you see him makes his stomach get tied in knots.
“What is it, Sol?”
And heavens he has never in his long life felt what he feels when you call him like that. For a short second his throat closes up, he’s not able to properly put into words what being privileged with your attention feels like.
“It’s just…” he isn’t even able to remember everything he’s been through, but he’s certain that he has never spoken truer words as the ones that stumbled out of his mouth in that moment “you’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”
Shades of pink bloom across your cheeks, and he is almost certain he’s able to name every single one. Flustered, you blink repeatedly and look away.
“That’s so out of the blue” you’re terrible at receiving compliments and he loves it.
Telling you all sorts of flirty comments and romantic words just to see you blushing breathes life into every single one of his cells, it almost gives immortality a whole new meaning. Solomon is in love with you to the bone, and when you’re around he knows you’re the reason he’s lived all this years. He had never been cursed, he had been blessed.
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catcze · 6 months
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HI CATTE! big fan of ur works!! glad to see another wrio filo fan !!, can I request wrio trying to learn filo for Filipino!reader !! I think it's super cute and I feel like he would probably become fluent in secret to surprise you !!!!!
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Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
「 FEAT : 」  Wriothesley x GN! Filipino! reader
「 ### : 」  Fluff, some swearing, but overall very good vibes ♡ Reader can speak Tagalog! I'll be real this is super cheesy esp the tagalog dialogue but SUE ME I love cheesy shit and this is self indulgent. Written pre-4.1 release.Translation for Tagalog dialogue found at the end!
AAAA HI BABY ♡ I cannot express how happy this made me ?!?!? Like, I'm bumping it up on the prio because it made me sooo kilig when i read it HAHAHAH I hope you like it lots !! (also if any filos have corrections/improvement on the tagalog dialogue pls lmk because I am notttt the best at writing in tagalog dialogue lmao) also ! I changed it and made him, like, not super \ fluent yet at Tagalog, hence why imo some of his dialogue sounds a bit;;; like, practiced? textbook? if that makes sense? HAHAH
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Wriothesley doesn't have some big, grand reason for doing any of this. It's not your birthday or your anniversary or anything like that. He's not meeting your parents and he sure isn't planning on proposing just yet.
In all honesty, it all started from a quick kiss you pressed to his cheek and a string of words in a foreign language whispered into his ear.
"What did you say?" he asks when you pull away, a small smile on your face.
"I said mahal kita," you tell him, a hand resting on his arm. Your eyes soften almost imperceptibly when you say the phrase again. You sound so damn fond when you say it, it makes his heart want to skip a beat. "It's one of the most common ways to say 'I love you' in Tagalog."
"Can you say it again?" He asks, and you easily comply.
Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita. I love you. He turns the words over and over in his head, then tries to replicate how you pronounce it with his own tongue, but the words come out a bit funny thanks to his fontainese accent. He's not used to the intonation of the language and it shows, if your amused little laugh was anything to go by.
"Like this," you tell him after watching him struggle for a bit and taking mercy on his poor tongue. "Repeat after me." Then you open your mouth wide, so he can see how you do it.
"Ma."
"Ma?"
"-hull."
"-hull."
"Kih."
"Kih?"
"Mhm. Tah."
"Tah."
"Put all that together, and you get mahal kita."
He tries it again, but it still comes out a bit funky. Not at all like how you say it, sounding buttery smooth and practically dripping with charisma. Despite this, you still smile at him like he's given you the world in your palms, or like you're about to cry from happiness. You press your lips against his, stealing the air right from his lungs and making his eyes flutter shut. He can never get tired of kissing you, he thinks, and if messing up a little bit gets him this much affection, he can only imagine what you'd be like if he improved.
"Mahal din kita," you mumble against his lips, breaking away but not straying far.
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After that, unbeknownst to you, Wriothesley picked up what is essentially (but not actually the title) a Tagalog for dummies book and hunted down a guard in the fortress who can speak the language enough for him to consult whenever merely reading the words on a page was not enough.
You've also begun to speak Tagalog more and more around him since finding out his interest in the language. You've even managed to correct his pronunciation a little bit, despite how new much of it was new to him.
("You have to roll your r's a bit more, Wrio. Like... like you're purring, i guess?" That, in particular, he heard quite often. Who knew that his mother tongue said their r's differently from yours? Certainly not him.)
He eats up every bit of advice you give him in passing when he tries to replicate whatever word or phrase you just said, quietly taking note in his head and repeating the phrases back to himself even when you're not around. He goes to that one guard he had dubbed as his 'Tagalog tutor' and peppers them with questions so often that he figures it warrants him to hand over a particularly generous bonus later on for letting him as much of a bother as he is.
And finally, after a good long while of giving it his best effort, his tutor deems him able to hold a conversation in Tagalog well enough, and promptly pushes him out the door, telling him to 'go get 'em, boss.' before hastily locking the door behind him.
When Wriothesley wanders back to your living quarters, reassuring himself that he's been practicing for this, for you, and that even if he gets it a little bit wrong, you're probably going to be happy either way. Probably.
"Sweetheart?" He calls, coming inside. He follows your faint 'over here' to find you on your bed in your casuals, relaxing for the day.
When you catch sight of him, you smile, beckoning him close, just to press a kiss to his lips when he leans over. "Hey," you say, grinning up at him.
"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " He says, the words coming out a soft murmur against your lips. You pause for a good while, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in confusion, and Wriothesley fears that he could have messed up somehow. Then a wide smile breaks across your face as you glow with absolute delight.
"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka?" You sit up to be eye-to-eye with him, and you see nothing short of pride in his eyes. One of your hands flies up to cover your mouth as you gasp. "Woah, ang galing mo!"
And oh, it's one of the cutest things you've ever seen from him— Wriothesley smiles, just s little bit, and the slightest hints of a blush dust his face. It's adorable to see how he reacts to your praise.
Wriothesley's eyes dart away from yours, one of the few tells of embarrassment you've ever seen from him. "Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako."
"Kahit na!" You're clearly enthused, happy and grinning and buzzing with energy. "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" You're wide awake and looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky for you. Wriothesley is smiling now too. All those hours and late nights trying his best to get the words right, and this was the very reason why.
"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." One of his hands reaches up to your face. The callouses and scars of his hand drags a giggle from you as he tries to rub the sleep from your eyes. "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos."
And compared to when you first told him you love him in your language, his Tagalog has improved by leaps and bounds. Still affected by his accent, yes, but his hard work showed through. It is that and the tenderness in his voice that makes you break this little song and dance between the two of you. Your hand reaches up to hold the one cupping your cheek, letting you lean further into his palm.
"Were you intending to surprise me? Because you certainly did. In a good way, I mean."
Wriothesley chuckles. "I'm glad. Been trying to learn it since that first time, and I think I'm making some progress. Though anything more than a simple conversation is still a bit much for me."
"Kahit na," you repeat yourself, "You're amazing! You got so good! Oh, we are going to have so much fun having secret conversations that no one else can understand."
He playfully quirks an eyebrow at that. "While that's definitely going to be some fun, I really wanted to learn how to, ah, tell you that I love you back."
"Oh." Again, you pause. "Well. Here's your chance, I guess." And you smile at him again, the one that has his heart skipping a beat. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into your space, you press your forehead against his and close your eyes. He can feel your breath tickle against his lips, and he almost sighs in response.
"Mahal kita, Wriothesley."
"Mahal din kita, my love."
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Translation:
"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " — "How are you? I missed you, love."
"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka? — "Hey, really?! You're actually speaking Tagalog?"
"Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako." — (spoken sorta formally) "Sorry, I'm not very good at speaking Tagalog yet. I'm still learning."
"Kahit na!" "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" — "Even so!" "I missed you too! I'm fine. What about you? Have you eaten yet?"
"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos." — "Mhm, I did earlier, just before I came here." "Hopefully you had a good nap."
"Mahal kita, Wriothesley." — "I love you, Wriothesley."
"Mahal din kita, my love." — "I love you too, my love."
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alienaiver · 11 months
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yohoo for the writing game!! how about Lavi (dgm) and 95?
have a good night:))
AAAA the way i screamed bcos lavi <3333333 i gotchu!
ur lucky prompt is this: “You came all the way here for me?” and its 872 words long! there're no warnings, it's a fluffy sort of confession thingy. there's the usual "lavi is bookman" angst tho!
it kinda ran from me ngl..... i wrote three different scenarios before i settled on this one, i really hope u like it <!!!!33333 and i hope you have a good night as well, im sending you smoochies and berries!
send me an ask with a random number between 1-210 and a character and i'll write you a little story!
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Lavi’s sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling hazardously, swinging like he isn’t too many floors up and could possibly plummet to his death at any given moment if gravity and wind worked together to will his untimely end.
It doesn’t seem to matter much to him, as his mind is busy with other things, head rested in his palm, emerald eye searching the wide landscape in front of him for answers.
His question has all the answers he needs �� he just doesn’t like those answers. Maybe Mother Nature will provide him some new ones if he stares at her fleeting canvas for long enough. At least, that’s what he’s banking on.
He’s in love with you.
He didn’t realize until he’d returned alive from Noah’s Ark and finally seen your face again after what had felt like the longest mission of his life. Your radiant smile welcoming him home, helping him to the cod where he was to rest after Miranda finally released her Innocence.
He’d dreamt about you in the Infirmary. So much so that he was afraid he might’ve said your name out loud and someone might’ve heard. What if they had? He’s Bookman Junior, he can’t have attachments. Emotions.
There’s no future for the two of you.
That’s what he’s been telling himself non-stop, willing his heart into forgetting the way your eyes closed slightly when you laughed or the way you fidgeted with your hands when ordering your food from Jeryy.
He hears footsteps approaching but pays them little mind, assuming it’s Bookman who’s coming to chastise him for spending his time idly. In the back of his mind he does wonder who’d come all the way out here, to the tower at the southeast corner where nothing or no one really lingers of the Order.
When you clear your throat, he registers the uniform out of the corner of his eye and recognize it immediately to be yours, losing balance from the panic of you being so close without warning. He falls forward and you catch his left arm, laughing airily at him, “be careful.” You tut, as you dust off your thighs and sit down next to him.
“What brings ya here?” he asks, trying to bring a smooth and confident smile to his face but he’s not sure how well he succeeds. You smile and tilt your head in confusion, “to be with you, of course.”
“You came all the way here for me?” he asks, a mix of disbelief and astonishment in his voice. You laugh again and gently take his hand into yours. If you notice the way he flinches at the contact, you don’t say anything as you squeeze it, “obviously, Lavi.”
Silence settles between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. Your hand is still wrapped around his and he tries to will his heart to calm down. He knows the answer deep in his heart, even if he was out here seeking others.
You inhale sharply before you open your mouth, “I know you’re a Bookman in training,” there’s a pause before you turn to face him, “but I’m in love with you. I just wanted you to know that. You can do what you will with that information.”
If Lavi didn’t know you any better, he’d say you were incredibly calm about professing your love to someone but as you reminded him, he’s a Bookman. He’s memorized every tidbit information you’ve ever shown the world and he can see how tense you really are. The sharp line to your mouth, the slightly-but-not-completely furrowed brows, and the determination in your eyes, preparing yourself for rejection.
You’re not as good as Lavi at memorizing details on people, especially the small ones they can barely control themselves but you know that Lavi’s reaction isn’t one of his more controlled, proper ones. His cheeks are dyed red, going all the way down his throat and all the way to the tip of his ears. His mouth is stuck in a tight, wobbly line and his eye is as wide as it can go. You try to hold back a giggle at the man in front of you. You’ve just never seen him so caught off-guard.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly trying to taste his words before letting them out. A single swear word ends up leaving instead, making you unable to hold back your laughter, leaning forward as you laugh. You abruptly stop when you suddenly feel his hand by your chin, lifting up your head and catching your eyes with his. He’s beautiful like this, you absentmindedly think as you can’t help staring at him like he hung the stars just for you. with a shaky breath he leans forward and you slowly close your eyes as he comes closer.
Your lips collide and he lets out a deep sigh, one that indicates that he’s been thinking about this for just as long and deeply as you have. You press closer to him, and the grip he’s gotten on your uniform jacket tightens, pulling you impossibly closer.
He’ll figure it out. He’ll find his own answers because this, this is what heaven feels like, he decides.
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zoe8stay · 2 years
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ZOEE I LIKED TODAY'S UPDATE OF SHANGRIII– just like all the updates but yea. Who was itttt 😭😭 what did Yn not knoowww???
Can't wait for next update !! but don't rush <3
Okay now the Skz code omg 😭 aka me all over KSM for paragraphhsss
First of all,
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oops
Anw, everyone looked so genuinely happy, it made me happy 😭 I can't rid of Seungmin's laugh but sadly, Changbin's scream tops everything else BDJSBSJAHA HE'S SO LOUD (in a good way) AND ADORABLE.
Second, ahem Kim Seungmin 😭✊
I'm in tears, so many screen time for him. He's so cute, I could watch him for hours ☹️ if only he'd actually post full vlogs smh /j
His smile omg, I feel like a grade schooler talking about my crush hahaha but yeah his smile aaaa so cute, my heart it went kaboom 😤✊ I hope he doesn't cover it so much, it's so pretty ☹️
BJSBSJSBS HIS SIDE PROFILE LEMME JUST
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WOWAWEE tbh, I'd faint if I ever get to see him irl.
He was indeed so mischievous in this episode, I kept laughing all throughout the video. Now Stays know who to not give their phones to.
I can't, he's so pretty 😭 I felt so giddy whenever he's on screen.
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BXJSBSJ FELIX, THIS CUTIE. I'd let him win his mission any time, just say the word. I am incredibly soft for Felix, like I'm soft as is then Felix walks in to the picture and I'm a whole puddle for this guy. 🤡💗
Hyunjin... I'm– he's so cute...so so so so cute with those pigtails. I already have so much plots in mind, stawppp 😭✊
M sorry, I didn't mean for this ask to get this long so I'll be stopping here 😼
Generally, this ep was so fun and seeing them all so genuinely happy warms my heart, a nice feeling to have before sleeping fr. I love them sm 😩💗 hihi you too !!
Thank you for taking the time to read this 😭 I wouldn't mind getting one from you too hehe
I hope you had a great day, take care, mi luv !! 💞
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This is so long, I love it 🥰
About Shangri-la, I might pull an all nighter today because I have extreme motivation to write and I also want to finish some of my requests, if not all of them. Got me ice cream, got me coffee, got me Spotify, got me WolfChan. I'm ready 😌🤌
Skz Code...oh lord, I had so much fun watching. It felt like I was there with them. 🙈
This Changbin....you have no idea how many times I replayed this part, I didn't even notice Seungmin's evil shaninga at first haha. 🤡
Also bro the way they judged Innie when he said that stripping Lix was even better...like come on now the man had a point 👀
Honestly if I was Changbin I would cry on the rollercoaster 🥲, I was surprised how Lino didn't cry because...I mean you know they were high up there.🤔 Btw the way you said that Binnie is loud in a good way reminded me of that time Harry Styles was on The Late Late Show with James Corden and he said his mum cried in a good way...I don't know it you know lee know that but yeah haha
I'm sorry but...
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I had to...
Also this
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I'm sorry Han but let's not forget that you're the one who cries after every single argument 😑
Seungmin bro 😐...I thought I wasn't scared of anyone from Stray Kids but it turns out I am indeed scared of Min Min😶...this dude, I have a Samsung too and the way I panicked when he did this to Changbin lmaooo Your man unlocked a new fear haha. But the way Hyunjin was laughing too, it made ME laugh lol
Not gonna lie if there was a second place for the lipstick challenge I would gladly give it to Seungmin😌 because he did it pretty well but if I have to be honest...Minho was indeed the winner haha
But yeah lmaoo Felix was so smooth with his mission, he always is, gonna say 2 words - money catcher. 😏And pleaseeee the way he got all flustered when Bin told him he loves him AHHHHH I got flustered too🙈
Hyunjin's adrenaline went 📈 after the second ride of the rollercoaster. The way he was laughing and jumping and omg Seungmin made me laugh so much when he covered the camera to hit Hyun haha
A man on a mission
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His mission is to destroy!
Aweee I love it when I receive long asks, 🙌 Sleep well love ❤ Dream about Seungmin resetting your phone haha
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valour-bound · 8 months
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*🐝  *  ―  𝑷𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲 𝑷𝑯𝑹𝑨𝑺𝑬. 📨     ➤   @nightlyvisitor / RAYMON. [ ; ] ❛  i love the way you look when you're on your knees.  ❜ Raymon (I WILL BONK HIM AAAA)
( have some soft spice because you got me thinking of them earlier hhh )
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He wasn’t normally one for this kind of thing. For carving out time from his own schedule, setting it aside with a plan for small stolen pockets of time with someone else — he’s still relatively new in his attempt to build a semi normal life, or as close as he can get, outside of his work . . . But he was starting to warm up to the idea. Chris can see the appeal of just . . . living such a normal life without the weight of what felt like the world some days resting along aching shoulders, without that pressing paranoia, the constant kindling anxiety that felt a moment away from combusting into something more.
Taking these times to breathe, to just exist with someone else in such an intimate manner — it seemingly quelled it all down with ease. A startling ease that he hadn’t known well before, but welcomed with rumbled, quiet approval & greeted back with tender touches of his own. There still wasn’t a definitive label for what they were — a thing Chris was fine with. Putting a label on things seemed like it’d only complicate things, bring about a whole slurry of expectations & duties he knows for damned sure he wouldn’t be able to uphold.
But it never felt that way with Blackstone. He was a constant in his life, a reassuring presence that had come to root himself into his day to day, growing to mean something more than just a familiar face. More than just a reliable man on the field, he’d reminded him of better days, that there was the possibility to find them again in the present if it was wanted. There wasn’t a need for labels or names. Not when that open reassurance, that clear expression of care was constantly shown.
This is just easier, he muses, feeling the laughter that bubbles up from Raymon’s chest, rising up the column of his bared throat as Chris kisses along the sensitive, exposed flesh with a small quirk of his lips. The man is so honest, so painfully genuine in everything he expresses — it used to leave Chris exasperated. Constantly sighing at the other man’s past perceived naïveté with some lingering concern. All before he’d come to appreciate that very same trait. Kindness in a world so cruel was rare to see, even harder to hold & shelter.
But since he’d met the other man, it’s always remained his defining trait, never wavering, never fading. Always stubbornly staying in place with a steadfast optimism that there was always a silver lining to be found or made. Safe to say it reminded Chris that there was always hope to be found somewhere among all the pain they faced. Some strength to find buried down to continue on.
All it does is warm his chest, igniting that urge to curl hands protectively around that light so it didn’t dim. But it’s an impossible wish. Too cheesy, too unrealistic — so he’ll settle for expressing how much the other mattered to him the way he knew best. While words failed him more often than not when it came to the more . . . personal, romantic kind — he’d always been able to show clearly over telling. As his hands move lower, warm pads of his fingers skimming teasingly along the others chest, dipping lower still to stroke featherlight touches along Ray’s stomach — he grins at the way toned muscles flutter, twitching beneath his touch like he’d been tickled.
All the while, as Chris guides the other operative to settle more comfortably on the bed’s edge, he lifts his head, pressing a more languid kiss to welcoming one’s. A hand comes to cradle the edge of the snipers cheek, the other smoothing atop the bend of his hipbone , before he draws away again.
❝ Relax for me, Daylight. ❞ He commands softly, the single word slipping past impishly curled lips in a breathy hum. A parting swipe of his thumb across the others heated cheekbone before he marks his way down the others frame in a path of light nips & soothing kisses, honeyed sights flickering up once he finds himself crouched back on his haunches in front of the sunny man. He pauses, soaking in the moment, letting that pleasant curl of anticipation lick & tease along his nerves as amber sights, one’s darkened a tone deeper like coffee, meet his own. They dart across his face, taking everything in if he had to guess, before more laughter chitters free, his flushed face darkening a shade in a way Chris found endearing.
At the comment, he leans his face against one of his thighs, arching a brow as his own smile garners a more toothy edge. Playful, maybe preening a bit from the compliment, teeth bite into the material of Raymons jean clad leg, a hand slyly fiddling with the buckle of his belt.
❝ Good. The view down here’s not too bad either. ❞ Cheesy. Cheesy but an honest snort is heard as he finally unbuckles the others belt.
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authenticcadence18 · 2 years
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me listening to “All Too Well (Ten Minute Version)”: ok there’s new lyrics in this version!! it’s longer! that’s the whole point!
me when the new lyrics seamlessly kicked in:
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letterstotheflre · 2 years
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍— [meaning harmony, serenity, love, positivity, hapiness] SEND ME A CHARACTER + SCENARIO AND I’LL WRITE A SFW BLURB (no angst)
jamie and reader having a pamper day where they're doing hair and face masks all day and just staying in bed and watching muggle Christmas movies
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY THIS ASK MADE ME!! i wanted to write something like this but didn’t get the time aaaa i’m so excited <33
pretty boy
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warnings: none, just fluff
word count: 763
a/n: let’s consider this james potter x spoiled!pillowprincess!reader, aka my favourite dynamic with him<3
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James should've stood his ground and said no when you asked him to pop his pimples. But he was too weak for you and that pretty pout that always brought him to his knees, so when you fluttered your lashes with a whiny "pleasee Jamie" he had resigned himself to be your doll for the day.
That's how he ended up splayed on the bed, his head on your lap and a fluffy pink hairband keeping his curls at bay. Under the shower cap you put on him is a mix of avocado, honey and olive oil, because according to you, his hair "desperately needs hydration, oh my god. it's like the sahara desert."
"Ow!" he whines, his fingers curling around the sheets. His eyes are closed tightly, a few tears escaping from the corners when you press that strange metal contraption against one of his nostrils. His favourite christmas movie is playing in the background, but he can't even enjoy it because of the torture he's enduring.
"Shush," you scold. "Don't be a baby."
"It hurts! What're you even doin'?"
You roll your eyes. "Taking out your blackheads," there's a bit of contempt in your voice, like you're mocking him for not knowing what a blackhead is. "You have loads, by the way. Are you even using the face wash I bought you?"
Silence. You press down on his nose again and he winces. "James!" you gripe.
"I forget!" he offers as an explanation, but it's not good enough for you.
You uncap one of your face masks, a hydrating and soothing one that will quell his parched skin and soothe the redness. “Dirty boy,” you grumble, applying the facemask with a brush and watching james’ face relax. “You’ll be all wrinkly and dry when you’re old if you don’t do as I say.”
“As long as we’re wrinkly together, I don’t mind.”
“Don’t you dare! M’skin will be youthful and beautiful forever, not a single wrinkle in sight, and everyone will wonder how an ugly thing like you got a pretty thing like me.”
James cracks one eye open. There’s a smirk on your lips, amusement shining in your eyes as you poke fun at him. But two can play that game. “Got one right there,” he points at your forehead.
You gasp, picking up your phone and using the camera as a mirror. You scan your face and sure enough, there’s a line near your hairline, caused by the dried clay mask that rests on your face. You scowl at your boyfriend and pinch his arm, “Mean. Don’t scare me like that.”
You pick up a face towel and dip it in the water bowl you left on the nightstand. James watches as you take your mask off, then appy three drops of your favourite hyaluronic acid serum and finally scoop some of your moisturizer with a tiny plastic spoon.
Jesus, the amount of products and tools you use is insane. He doesn’t know how you do it.
Then it’s his turn to be cleaned off. You repeat the process, using a new towel of course. “I’m not an unsanitary monster” you say with a disgusted face when he hands you the one you previously used. With soft pats, you apply the serum to his face and then smooth the moisturizer you bought for him yesterday.
“Pucker up,” you say, twisting out your favourite cherry chapstick. James does as you say, smacking his lips when you’re done.
“Oh, look at you! Y’re so pretty, Jamie, and your skin is glowing! Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” You coo, running the pads of your fingers over his browbone and cheekbones. “See what happens when you listen to me? I bet not even Sirius can get his skin this shiny, y’re welcome— Oh you just look so beautiful, baby.”
James blushes at your tender touch and compliments. You lean down and pepper his face with kisses, bumping your nose with his and mumble a “not a blackhead in sight” right before he raises his head slightly so that he can kiss you where he actually wants to.
It takes you by surprise, but you quickly lean into it. Both of your lips taste of cherry and something warm, something like love, and James’ heart is ready to burst. When you pull away, lips shiny with spit and chapstick, he gives you one of his gleaming smiles as he laces your fingers together and makes you swoon.
He might not like the feeling of you pulling and rubbing his skin raw, but your sweet kisses make it all better.
217 notes · View notes
chil2de · 3 years
Note
Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).
You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥
Thank you so much 🥺💕
hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)
well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig
characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)
this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!
based off of this post
itadori
- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night
- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)
- gets horny so easily LMFAO
- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring
- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)
you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.
“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.
“y-uuuu-ji!”
after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”
you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.
“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.
“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.
“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.
“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?
“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”
“so why don’t you?”
“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”
“and besides-“
he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.
“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”
itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.
after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.
itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.
“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”
“i’ll take care of you.”
“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.
you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.
“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.
blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.
“tell me how you want it.”
by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.
you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.
itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.
“here, babe.”
you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.
“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”
yuuta
this man is about to end my whole career
yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.
it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’
but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.
the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man
can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’
similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto
“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.
“red, by the way.”
you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.
“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.
“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.
“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”
“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”
“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.
“i want green.”
“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.
you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.
“uh- i can see your cards-“
“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”
at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-
“hey.”
your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.
he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.
“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”
whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.
yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.
he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,
“why don’t i show you?”
before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.
“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“
his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.
“-unless, of course-“
“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”
“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”
truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.
with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.
“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.
his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.
“don’t look at me. look here.”
you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.
his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.
and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.
“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.
he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.
“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”
gojo
- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao
- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.
- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.
- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”
you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.
you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.
you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.
“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.
“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.
gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.
“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.
“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.
“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”
“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.
“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“
“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”
“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.
“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.
when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.
“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.
“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”
you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.
with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.
you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.
despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?
slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.
“surprised to see me?”
“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”
really? that’s his issue at hand here?
“so which is it?”
“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”
gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.
“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”
“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.
gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.
“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”
“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”
your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.
“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”
he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.
“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.
“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”
his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.
“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”
you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.
gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.
“i’m not playing with you tonight.”
toji
- i literally don’t even need to say anything here
- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something
- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay
maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.
fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.
you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.
when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.
“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.
“yes?” you squeak out meekly.
“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”
“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.
“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.
“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.
when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.
he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.
“see anything interesting down there?”
“as a matter of fact-“
you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.
“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.
it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.
as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.
“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”
“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”
“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”
“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”
toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.
“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”
incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.
even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.
“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.
you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.
you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.
your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.
as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.
“megumi. you’re just in time.”
“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”
494 notes · View notes
streaming-yn · 3 years
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I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS BEFORE IT WAS DONE IM SO SORRY AAAA
I can't promise it'd be good or accurate in any way at all, but I can say that I'll try my best!! sorry this took such a long time ;; very scared of not doing stuff perfectly yk? ;;; but thank you, I'm glad you like my writing! welcome to the crew 🍋 anon!! I don't know too much on witchcraft (my parents don't allow me to practice anything that I'll have to get extra stuff for :/) so I hope just doing everything but that is okay, I'm so sorry I couldn't do everything :(( n you take care as well!! and thank got for all the love n support!! mwah !
I don't write for George so I hope it's okay I took him out ;;
multiple x ambivert! bilingual! y/n
pairings: feral boys (no George) (dream, sapnap, Karl, quackity), BenchTrio (tommy, tubbo, ranboo) (separate) x reader
pronouns: they/them
other information on the reader:
. bilingual
. ambivert
. likes puzzle n strategic games (n good at them)
. minor
. artist
. faceless
form: headcanons
genre: platonic
abbreviations: y/n -> your name
feral boys (- George) (dream, sapnap, Karl, quackity)
congrats! you now have 4 new older brothers! and no you don't have a say in it! /lh
they all think it's really cool that your bilingual!!
if one of the languages you speak is Spanish quackity would invite you to his spanish-only/mostly streams \o/
I know it's unlikely, but if your other language is Greek by chance then maybe you and sapnap exchange a few Greek words/sentences, not for anything other than to confuse those also in call >:)
definitely see quackity doing the same thing!
if you speak a language other than Greek or Spanish they're like,, woah,,, that's so cool what
you could probably get anyone but dream to say almost anything in your language 💀
purely bc I believe that dream has had that happen multiple times before so now he's careful with saying things he doesn't know 😭
you could also make them believe an insult is a complement if you say it in a kind tone, and the other way around (depends on the language, bc with some it's close enough to English to tell)
like with a lot of German you could probably do that
you, kindly: du bist so schlecht in diesem spiel!! dein Chat muss langweilig sein (you're so bad at this game!! your chat must be bored) (**note: apologies if it's not accurate! I'm still trying to learn German so I used Google translate)
karl: thank you! ,, I think?
you: :)
if anyone in chat knows what you said they'll occasionally translate it for the rest of chat, if that happens, then like,, it's definitely getting clipped
quackity has jokingly asked you to draw him before! dream and karl constantly complement your art, and sapnap is inbetween complementing and being indifferent
like he thinks it's cool and looks really good but he won't bring up a lot and he won't do a whole bunch of compliments! he's a good one to go to and show new art if you want a chill reply while Karl and dream are the ones you show if you want praise for it
if you want jokes and lighthearted statements with semi-hidden compliments go to quackity! :)
I feel like being an ambivert in this group could go one of both ways depending on if you're an introvert w extrovert tendencies or the other way around
hard, introvert with extrovert tendencies, which basically means that you're pretty introverted, won't talk to knew people unless spoken to first but once you do you ease up a bit, once friends you get louder and more hyper showing your extrovert side. you like parties and such despite the fear you have of them, etc. I feel like this would be hard because pretty much everyone in the feral boys is extroverted, save for dream who's an ambivert but super extroverted online! so their energy might scare you but it also draws you in leading you to becoming friends! you probably have a soft spoken voice which the boys fail to notice at first - causing you to get spoken over a lot, just things of that kind! but they get used to it and your contrast fits well :)
easy, extrovert with introvert tendencies, which is the same as above but switched! you can start conversation with strangers - though it may be a bit hard due to your introvert tendencies stunting your social growth, you enjoy parties and social events and talking to people but you're probably off in a corner of the party talking to a group of people rather than dancing, being alone in your room can be calming but is usually lonely and you prefer to have someone - or maybe a few people - around. this would be easy because it's easier for introvert tendencies to be unnoticed online since you're not face to face, so talking to people and interacting would go rather smoothly causing your addition to the crew to be smooth and fast! they didn't have to talk to you first and everyone being (mostly) extroverted made you fit in well, and you won't get talked over because when you do on accident you bring it up and they make sure to be more careful \o/
also for you speaking a different language; if you ever forget a word in English - which is bound to happy often - they'll help you figure it out
and your love and talent for strategic games, puzzle games, and rhythm games kinda shocked them! like the entire group isn't the best at those types of games and don't play them often
they're really impressed about it too! I feel like one of the first times sapnap saw you do a rhythm based game he made a comment about how you'd be a really good drummer!
also if there's a puzzle in a game that quackity is playing he would probably try to call you to get you to figure it out 💀
BenchTrio (tommy, ranboo, tubbo)
they're impressed by you being bilingual right away! I feel like tommy might make a joke about being bilingual bc he knows a few Spanish words
tubbo is super interested in what different words translate to and like, uses you like Google translate around Minecraft after he finds out
"that's super cool!! wait, what's this in your language?" he throws your character a carrot "(carrot in your language)" "okay okay!! this next :D!!" he throws your character a dirt block, you let out and amused breath "am I Google translate now?" "c'mon!!"
ranboo gets mostly confused because he doesn't understand what you're saying so he's like ??? how do I respond if I don't know what you said help
I think you being an ambivert would also fit in well, not matter what type you are bc you literally have 2 ambiverts (both kinds!! ex w int tend is tubbo n int w ex tend is ranboo!) and one extrovert!! there's literally no way you can't fit in unless your sense of humor is wildly different but since you're reading this I assume it's similar!
they will also help you if you forget English words, though tubbo forgets a lot as well so ranboo or Tommy would probably be your best bet to go to!
I feel like tubbo is also good at rhythm games so it wasn't a shock you were or anything, but it did cause a bit where tommy just like,, split the group? 💀 you and tubbo n him and ranboo where the groups, it became like a who's side it better type of thing and ranboo kept "sneaking off" to your vc to tell you stuff n talk a bit, it was fun
as for puzzles, I don't think anyone in the group is good at puzzles besides ranboo, like tubbo might be mediocre but I feel like ranboo is really good like,, have you seen that man's lore ? good god
poor Tommy dude 💀💀
chat 100% brags about you anywhere they can!
"look at my streamer!! they're so talented and smart and funny and they can draw <33 I bet you wish your streamer was as cool as mine /lh"
(sorry it took so long and it's kinda short! I didn't really know what to do exactly :( )
taglist: @cvsmixplant @l0ver0fj0y @youngstarfishdinosaur @icarusthefoolish
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dr3amofagame · 3 years
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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?
aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*
phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 
tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault
When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.
“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.
At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.
“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”
“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”
“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”
“Mate-”
Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.
“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“
“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”
‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.
“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.
“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”
Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“
“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”
“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”
Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”
Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.
“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.
The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.
“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.
“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.
“That seems like an understatement.”
“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.
“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”
Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.
“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”
The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.
Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.
“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”
“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“
“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”
Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.
“Hey.”
Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.
“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”
Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.
“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”
Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.
Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.
“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”
Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.
“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.
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shotosprincess · 3 years
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what if... — shoto todoroki
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“ what if we kissed then? just to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “
summary: ever since you and todoroki started working together as pro heroes, your friends simply wouldn’t let up on teasing you two, suspecting that there was something between you—something that extended past the bounds of business.
notes: fluff ,, todoroki being flustered ( aaaa he’s so cute bye ) the bakusquad teasing and egging ya’ll on ( their dialogue is color coded so it’s easier to read ! ) ,, denki being a little bit of a busybody <3
“ ooooh look who it is! the power coupleeee! “ the sing-song tone of denki’s teasing rung through the hall as he spotted you and todoroki entering the building from a long day of pro hero work.
grey streaks of dust and ash littered your bodies, streaks of sweat and diluted stripes of dried crimson staining multiple sides on both your faces. his hair was tattered and slightly singed from the discord of an especially-messy battle, yours was tangled in a hopeless mess. a heavy sigh leaves you. that would be a pain to brush through later.
your numbed fingers, body exhausted and worn out, run through your hair in a wordless frustration. shoto tenses up noticeably at denki’s playful comment. “ denki. we’re not a couple. “
his lips raise into a cheeky, if not mildly-irritating smirk as he leans further into the velvet couch, draping his arms round the back. “ oh yeah? take your arm off their shoulder then, shoto. “
your partner’s face lights up with a rose so brilliant, it almost even matched with the rubied strands of his hair. his lips tightly purse together, sliding his arm, which was, in fact, casually resting on your shoulder, off with a hurried swoop.
“ shut it, kaminari. “ he huffs in a low, almost even threatening tone as he walks past the energetic blonde at an increased pace. you frown. he seemed so worked up over it, and for what? it’s not as if this was the first time someone had poked at you for being a “ couple “—which you were not, but you were never the one to readily disprove their remarks, though delivered in a joking manner. it’s not as if you felt anything of the sort for him...right?
so then why was it so hard to admit that you weren’t anything more than what you were on the field? it was the truth, after all.
“ jeez, what’s with him? i was just kidding. “ sticking a lollipop into his mouth, he turns to lay down fully on the couch, stretching his back out with such leisure.
your eyes followed him as he disappeared past a corner, shaking your head in confusion. “ no clue. “
it was just one of the countless circumstances in which people had poked at the two of you for your not-so-platonic habits with one another, habits which, admittedly, hinted at something...more than friendship. more than a partnership. this was nothing new.
but of course, you pushed it all away, allowing the rumours and silly hashtags and fanmade edits and youtube compilations to completely ricochet off of you. however, the same couldn’t exactly be said for todoroki. shame.
you didn’t quite know why, but he always got so unexplainably tense about it whenever someone brought the topic up. he’d curl up his fists so aggressively it’d leave crescent marks the next day, rearrange his face into a scowl—it was clear that he hated it, joke or not. honestly, you didn’t have the guts to attempt to make them stop, for you knew that if you had, you just knew that the public would somehow find a way to turn it into “ proof “ that you were dating, all because he got so riled up and flustered. which was silly, really, since it was a perfectly normal human reaction to something like this.
though you can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he did feel that way about you, and maybe that was the reason he—
no, no, what were you thinking? he couldn’t possibly...right? you were just partners. nothing more, nothing less.
but if he did think of you like that, would you want something more?
“ oh come on, just admit it! if not to the public, then to us at least. aren’t we friends? “
“ yeah, icy hot. i mean, seriously, have more guts— “
“ ...how many fucking times do i have to tell you, bakugou...we’re not a couple. denki, stop playing around. you’re egging him on. “ shoto’s harsh tone cuts sharply through the banter between denki and the overly-intense ashen blonde, bringing it to an abrupt end. it didn’t exactly last very long, though.
“ yeah, yeah. that’s what i said about that dumbass deku, and look where we are now. “ he rasps, a knowing smirk playing on his face as he pulls his now-blushing boyfriend close.
“ not everything is about love, bakugou. “ he smirks.
“ yeah, who knew you’d be the one to turn out to be such a romantic? “ denki laughs, earning a solid punch to his arm.
“ owww! that actually hurt. “ his lips jut out in a pout, rubbing over the blooming patch of light purple.
“ oh, shut up, idiot! “
“ you know what? fine. y/n? “
you pause, perfectly still and unmoving as the coldness of his eyes burned his unknown intent into you.
“ y-yeah? “
he strides over to you, appearing only inches away within the briefest of seconds. one of his hands quickly finds a home against your cheek, tilting it to look up at him. your heart pulsates at a nearly impossible rate.
“ kiss me. “
“ what? “
“ just this once. to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “ he says, rolling his eyes at denki and bakugou, who were futilely trying to cover their smirks.
heat rises to your cheeks, cauterizing them with an unfamiliar flame. “ oh! uh! i—sure.“
what other choice did you have? after all, you did want to prove to everyone that there really was nothing between you and shoto. or maybe, just maybe, you were also trying to prove it to yourself?
no, no. that couldn’t be. it couldn’t.
he wastes no time. his skin, cold and smooth, fingers like porcelain streams, grasp your chin with a fast-paced elegance which sends a prominent shudder down your back. his lips hover just above yours, and the tension buzzing between you is ridiculously electric. he’s so close, your heartbeat rings in your ears and his breath shallowly fans upon your face as he peers into your eyes with his own. you allow them to fall closed.
as if on cue, his lips meet yours with a gentle, albeit fairly aggressive peck. but as soon as they do, your chest spurns with the fibres of your heartstrings, embroidering them tightly into the knots of his own tangled past. you know what he said. you know what you said—it was all to prove that you didn’t feel anything for one another.
but then why did it feel so oddly...right?
he pulls away, and your lips suddenly feel empty, deserted. the electric thrum still prickles at your lips, wanting, no—needing, more. you hate how much your body craved him, how desperately you wanted for his arms around you again. there’s too much emotion, an overwhelming influx. it is near impossible to even articulate it, at least not in a way which could ever hope to properly encapsulate the undeniable magic of the moment. you were being so damn melancholic, and that was saying something, even for you.
when his lips leave yours, you cannot help but be frozen in your simple state of bliss, utterly dazed with hazy remnants of how annoyingly addicting it was. your eyes gloss over with a sense of want, sparkling with the same glitters his icy eyes met yours with. his hand remains on your cheek, but his touch softens against yours.
your silent stare prolongs for more than just the fleeting moment, as if you were subconsciously grabbing at it with invisible arms, reaching desperately to bring each other back. that was when it hit you; the blinding realization that you did, in fact, want this. want him. and yet, you couldn’t help but hesitate. what about him? did he want this? no, no, he couldn’t possibly. after all, this whole kiss situation was only because he wanted to prove that explosive idiot wrong, that there was nothing between you two but teamwork and good quirk compatibility.
your heart stings at the minor epiphany, the thoughts piercing at your head in an endless swirl of emotions. second-guessing yourself, wondering why you even cared whether or not he thought of you that way. or at least, how he didn’t think of you that way. the tiniest shine of a tear begins to coat your lashes when—
his lips crash against yours for a second time, his hand now trailing towards your scalp, weaving through the fibres as his lips danced upon yours. your guard, your hesitation fully melting away in his arms.
but alas, you made the mistake of allowing yourself to forget that people were watching too.
“ ha! i knew it! i fucking knew it! “ kaminari’s playful voice rings like the most annoying song ( in this moment, i mean come on, you loved the guy, but right now? not exactly helping your stance of “ we don’t see each other like that “ ) as his head peaks out from the halls.
instantly you break away, pulling from each other as your hand flies to clamp over your mouth, eyes bulging wide at what you had just done. you had just kissed shoto. in front of, well, practically everyone! since when did mina and kirishima even get here?!
“ shit. “ shoto mutters deeply, thrashing his hands into his two-toned hair in frustration.
“ shoto, i—i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they would— “
“ no, no. don’t apologize. it’s my fault. i...i shouldn’t have gone for a second ki— “
“ honestly, i think i would’ve been more mad at you if you haven’t. “
“ WHAT?! “ your little audience shrieked. your palms clasped right over your mouth after the admission, face burning with embarrassment. the words left you before you could even think them through. had you really just said that? in front of everyone? how carefree can you be?
you stare into the ground, focusing on literally anything but him.
“ hey. look at me. “
you refused.
“ y/n. “ his hand goes up to your chin, making you look up at him. the pout on your face is so plainly obvious, it makes his heart twitch in a slight pain. you could almost swear you heard mina squeal faintly at the boldness of his action, considering the predicament you two were currently stuck in.
“ what? “
“ i...i think i would’ve regretted it more if i hadn’t kissed you again. “
“ you—what? “
“ i...i didn’t want to pull away. “
“ holy shit. “
“ shut up bakugou! “
“ i wanted...i wanted it to last a little longer. “
“ jeez, and i thought i was bad at confessing my feelings. pft. this is just embarrassing to watch. “
“ same here. i mean you did ask midoriya out by yelling ‘ i love you, dumbass! ‘ from outside his dorm window. “
“ hey, idiot! we don’t talk about that! “
“ shhhh both of you! shut up! we are witnessing an important romantic moment here! “
“ i...seriously? “
“ seriously. and i—i don’t know what the hell this feeling....is. but i....i just— “
“ it��s okay. “ you shoot him a reassuring smile, the same kind you always did in the midst of battle, that comforting smile that let him know you had his back. you communicated with your eyes, though usually they were bloodshot with adrenaline and smudged with ash, there truly was no need for words. not with him.
“ y/n...i— “
“ awwwww aren’t they the cutest? now kiss again! “
“ mina. “ he shoots her a lightly cold stare.
“oh come on! let us have our fun, yeah, icy hot? “ bakugou slings his arm over kaminari’s shoulder, whose grin matches that of his blonde-haired counterpart.
“ i thought i told you not to call me— “
“ shoto. “
he immediately turns to you, slipping into serenity at the sound of your voice.
“ ah shit, here they go again. we get it, you’re a cute couple! “
“ mina, i told you. we’re not a co- “ his eyes snap to yours, lips parting in a hesitant pause.
“ not a what, icy hot? “ the smirk exuding of utter smugness upon bakugou’s face only spreads all the wider.
he allows his hands to fall, taking yours within his. there is a brief, yet definite moment of silence before he speaks again. “ i mean... “
your gaze is focused on the way his hands fully envelope yours, and the unexplainable, tingly feeling you’re getting from it all. despite that, you could still very well see mina and kaminari excitedly waving and bouncing in all sorts of directions, as if they were...cheering you on? it was almost as if they were more fired up about all this than you were.
keyword; almost.
“ shoto, i— “
and suddenly his composure and poise breaks, and all that’s left is the rare sight of shoto todoroki, stuttered in a blushing, shaky mess. “ i mean, i wouldn’t be opposed to it. not—not like i desperately want to or anything, but at the same time i—i just—fuck, why is this so har— “
you rise onto your tip toes, hands encircling his neck as you kiss him. what unknown spirit possessed you with the guts to make the first move, it was fully unbeknownst to you. but you weren’t complaining, no. not in the slightest.
“ HOLY SHIT?? “
“ my baby’s all grown up now— “
“ dumbass, they’re not your bab— “
“ they’re mine. “
“ i— “
“ that is, if you want to b— “
“ well no shit, dumbass! “ you jump into his arms, squealing as you squeeze him tight.
“ good. because...so do i. “
“ i told you! “
“ shut up idiot! “
“ hey, so now can we start a fan account for you two on instagram? i’m sure it’d totally blow up! “ mina squealed with a wink, holding up her phone, already halfway through the sign up process.
“ mina! “ everyone groaned in a laughter-filled unison.
so that was it, you supposed.
you did have feelings for each other.
280 notes · View notes
meliorist-midoriya · 3 years
Text
chasing the sun
synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.
pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader
genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au
warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.
word count: 11.7k
a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum​ for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt! 
important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!
crossposted on Ao3
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【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden. 
He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.
It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.
(Oh, what he would give to join them.)
Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.
He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.
“Good morning, madam.”
“Good morning—”
He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to. 
That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.
A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.
Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.
The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.
“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.
“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”
He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward. 
A minute passed… 
Then another… 
Then five… 
Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.
(In his world, losing meant death.)
Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.
So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.
“You’re a new face in the palace.”
With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but). 
“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”
Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly. 
Two could play at this game.
Well, now, this was new. 
Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.
“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.
“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”
You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.
“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?
You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.
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Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past. 
The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.
You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort. 
Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life? 
Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.
Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.
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He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.
“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier. 
“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”
Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.
“I’ll live for you, then.”
And with a smile, you fall in love.
(Keigo falls even harder.)
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【 ☀︎ 】
He should have known.
“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”
He really should have known.
“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”
Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.
“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”
Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him. 
(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)
The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.
How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.
(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)
The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.
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“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.” 
Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.
“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”
The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.
Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.)  only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment. 
More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.
I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—
“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”
Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.
“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”
Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.
“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”
The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.
(He was.) 
“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”
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Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.
“Done saying your prayers?” 
Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt. 
“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”
Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.
“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”
He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.
“Must you be so dark?”
“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”
The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.
I really… should’ve known…
“Keigo!”
Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.
“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in. 
It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once— 
No, for eternity.
The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens. 
That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.
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【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.
They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day. 
But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.
“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.
“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.
“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”
“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance. 
Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.
“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.” 
Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.
“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”
“Harsh.”
The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town. 
A sleepy, familiar town.
Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give. 
They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.
“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.
There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.
“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.” 
Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.
“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”
“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”
“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.
“God, her ginger candy was the best.” 
“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.
“That was ages ago!”
“And you still react like a little boy!” 
Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.
(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)
He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.
“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”
“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”
“Wonderful job of being annoying.”
Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.
“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”
“What?”
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“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?” 
Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.
“Not so little anymore, Granny.”
“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”
“Granny!”
“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.
“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”
Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.
“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”
The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.
“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”
The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar. 
(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)
However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.
“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—” 
The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other. 
“...Keigo?”
Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”
His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.
“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.
“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”
“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”
“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.” 
Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?
“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”
“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.
Probably both.
(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)
A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.
“...Did we just get kicked out?”
“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you. 
Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.
Talk.
“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do. 
Nice going there, Keigo, really.
“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”
You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.
“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?
For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.
“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.
“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.
“You know that’s not what I meant!” 
“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt. 
“What, so, we both had boring lives?”
Far from boring.
“...Yeah, I guess so.” 
You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.” 
“And how would you do that?”
“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”
“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”
“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”
“I’m coming, coming.”
Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.
(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)
For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.
He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.
“You still suck!”
“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”
You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape. 
This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.
Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.
The joy he now knew was to be found in you.
“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”
“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”
And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.
You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?
“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.
“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.
Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?
“Lead the way, then.”
There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on. 
He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—
The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.
“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Like you’d ask me first.”
【 ☀︎ 】
Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.
One, two, three, one, two, three…
With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.
Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.
(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)
Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.
“Keigo?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.
“Will you come home?”
Home.
A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.
To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.
To him, “home” meant you.
So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.
“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”
He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer. 
Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.
“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”
Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.
One, two, three, one, two, three… 
Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”
Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.
And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.
Dreamed, even.
What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.
He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.
(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)
Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.
One… two… three… 
“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”
You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.
“—but don’t.”
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【 ☀︎ 】
Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.
He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.
(Would it ever end?) 
How long has it been since the first shot?
(Too long.) 
Would he live to see the sunset?
(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)
The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death.  What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.
Something like the will to survive.
The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.
Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—
The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building. 
Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!
In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city. 
Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right. 
If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth. 
He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.
“Hey, man.”
(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)
Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.
“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”
“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.
“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?” 
“Shut up.”
“You know you don’t want me doing that.”
(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)
Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement. 
Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—
“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”
Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.
“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.
“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”
“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”
Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.
“Ah—”
“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.” 
Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.
“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”
“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.
“Just a couple more times.”
“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.
“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”
Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.
“I won’t.”
“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”
“...Just do it yourself.” 
“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”
His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.
“Kei...go?”
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【 ☀︎ 】
Waiting was agony.
You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you. 
Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.
All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies. 
If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.
Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.
(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)
Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?
Then, they came. 
A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.
There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.
How many men did they lose?
(Too many.)
You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.
One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped. 
And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.
Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.
Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.
It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.
It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.
It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.
Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.
Keigo would never get to go home.
He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms. 
(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)
He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.
He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.
A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.
A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.
A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.
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【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.
The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.
“Everything good with you, Professor?”
“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.” 
Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was. 
He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better. 
He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.
The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.
(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)
All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.
At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.
With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load. 
Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all? 
No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox. 
Hell, he expected them to.
What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?
Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message. 
A schoolwide email? Okay, th—
The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.
“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”
“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you. 
The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.
A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.
After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.
Will be missed… 
Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he? 
Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture). 
All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.
The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping  void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.
Professor Takami had work to get done.
Keigo could mourn later.
Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind. 
As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.
Did you go through this too? When he—
The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.
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【 ☀︎ 】
When did I…?
He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise. 
I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?
He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around. 
“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”
“What…?” 
“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”
Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.
“Three.”
Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.
It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.
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Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.
He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.
Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.
Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.
His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.
“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”
He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.
There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront. 
A flower shop, in this secluded side street? 
“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.
“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.
Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.
“Uh—”
“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”
Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.
“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”
She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch. 
Right on time.
【 ☀︎ 】
A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.
Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.
“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.
It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.
Keigo.
His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.
“One…”
I want to see you.
“Two…” 
I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.
“Three—”
Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.
It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.
“Y/N!”
The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.
The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.
He was home.
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notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?
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bagelbright-tok · 3 years
Text
Take Me to Funkytown!
____   
Yellow Temperance proves to be a great enemy to Jotaro. Without much of an aid there to assist the teen, he hasn’t much of a choice but to fight for his life. After trying to burn and freeze temperance off of his finger, hope is lost. At least, until an odd individual dances their way into the fight. Ally or enemy? Temperance and Jotaro are unsure.
Jotaro x fem!Reader [Platonic One-shot]
Italics = the music
Word Count: 1,564 Warning(s): Violence, swearing, negligence, bit of social isolation, intense grooving, swearing again, gross horny man tries hitting on reader, I did not re-read __ Blame It on the Boogie! __
You were mostly just touring Singapore for your own personal reasons. You had nothing else to do and you got bored quickly. So, you packed your bags and left for Singapore. You had the essentials; clothes, personal hygiene products, and your Walkman cassette player and headphones. The flights over were smooth as could be. Not like you noticed much anyhow. Most of the time, you had your headphones on, listening to the several cassettes you also had brought in your bag. Since you’d left, you’d made 0 social interactions with other humans. That didn’t bother you in the least. You didn’t necessarily care much for making friends along the way. In fact, you dreaded when people would talk to you. They were annoying, quite frankly. So you would drown out the voices with your music. The only problem was that you would get sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. The perks of traveling were being able to try out new music from places around the world.
Your thoughts were mostly blank while you peered out of the train window at the city you were approaching. “Hey pretty lady~!”
A man’s voice quickly pierced the air around you. But you couldn’t hear him over your loud music. He noticed that quickly and took this as a sign to sit right next to you. “What’s a girl like you sitting all by yourself?”
You scooted away from him once you noticed he had sat next to you. Your smiling expression quickly turned into a frustrated one. You couldn’t hear the man, but his presence alone made you uncomfortable. You became infuriated when you felt his hand remove your headphones. “C’mon girl, don’t-”
You didn’t let him finish as you summoned your Stand, and sent it lunging at the man. Your Stand, Ace’s Wand, representing the tarot card Ace of Wands, was a Stand with the form that could vary depending on your mood and the sounds in the air. With you angry without music, your Stand took on a horrifying form that you could barely comprehend. The noises it made as well were scary. All you could see was the body of the annoying man getting flung like a ragdoll. His body was crumpled like a piece of paper on the other end of the train.
You scoffed, grabbed your headphones, and returned to your position. Your music continued and your site seeing went on. Everyone was scared and confused as they surrounded the man in concern. “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” You bobbed your head to the beat while everyone whispered in a hushed and terrified tone.
***
The train ride turned into a cableway ride. You sat in a cable car with a man, his kid, and their dog. The kid happily snacked on his popsicle as he enjoyed the view from the car. You were doing the same, except you were listening to your music instead of snacking on a popsicle. Looking out the window, you noticed a guy on a cylindrical shaped building that was tall enough to reach the height of the cable car. It was an odd sight for sure, you even gave him a confused squint. You noticed his sights landing on your cable car. You blinked a couple of times. Your eyes quickly widened when you saw him back up, then charge forth towards your car.
“Oh shit!” You whispered loudly. The teen landed on the car and clutched to the side you had been viewing from. You noticed a purple figure emerge from him and rip the door off the car. Things only got weirder. The man peered at you, then turned his attention to the kid with the popsicle. 
“Hey kid, I am gonna need to use this.” The kid began to cry until the teen spoke again, “Alright, I’ll buy you a new popsicle when we reach the ground.”
The kid nodded, and the tall teen rose back to his height. Your headphones had been knocked off during the impact of the teen crashing into the car. You hardly noticed, even hearing the teen talk and hearing yourself talk. “Whoa! What an entrance! What the hell are you doing?” You blurted out.
“Is this your kid, lady?” The black haired teen asked.
“What? Hell no.”
“Then shut up and enjoy the view.”
Your brows furrowed at that statement. It was of annoyance, but then it turned into confusion when you noticed the yellow blob on the teen’s hand. Just what was going on? You could only ask this as the teen pressed the cold treat onto the yellow substance, wincing in pain in the process as the gross yellow jello spiked and stabbed into his hand. Things only escalated when another presence began to enter the cable car through the door that the teen had rudely ripped off. The presence was similar to the substance on the teenager’s hand, except larger and with another person inside.
“Can’t you get it through your thick skull?” The deep male voice spoke in a taunting manner that sent shivers down your own spine. “My Stand, Yellow Temperance, is indestructible! No matter how much power you may have, you cannot beat my Stand!”
Well shit. It means you’ve found yourself in a Stand battle. You found yourself even more infuriated than before on the train. The black haired teen referred to as Jotaro had ripped a pole from the car and tried to swing it at Yellow Temperance. It wasn't just Jotaro, though. It was his Stand, a large purple humanoid entity that was clearly fast and strong. Angered, you put on your headphones and stood up. It was as the Stand projected itself onto Jotaro and the cable car that things got weird.
Jotaro and the user of Yellow Temperance were now looking at you. Your expression was scrunched up and you could feel the heat rising. With the beat of your music, you had better control of your Stand. "Don't blame it on the sunshine!"
You moved with the rhythm and summoned your Stand without further comment. "Don't blame it on the moonlight."
"Holy shit!" Temperance's user yelled in horror as his eyes laid on your Stand. You could barely make that out with your music as loud as it is.
"What the hell!" Jotaro also exclaimed, but not as loud. Based on Temperance's reaction, it clued him in on the fact that you are clearly not with him. A relief, but also, you aren't with the Joestars.
"Don't blame it on the good times." Just as Temperance was about to latch onto you, you sent out your Stand first. "Blame it on the-!" "BOOGIE!" Your Stand screeched as it went up against the yellow Stand.
The enemy user only screamed as he witnessed your Stand vigorously and aggressively stabbing and digging through his sludge. Even while your Stand could make contact with his, it couldn't be said that the situation could be switched around. Your Stand's form was horrifying in itself, but the idea that his Stand with no weaknesses couldn't touch your Stand was just as terrifying. 
Jotaro realized the opportunity he had now. The enemy had even panicked and removed his Stand from Jotaro. He wasn't even paying attention to Jotaro anymore. You knew why. The fear was overwhelming. You are the greater threat at the moment to him. You bore your eyes into Jotaro, telling him to make his move if he wants it. Your Stand was slowly making its way closer and closer to the user with its claws. Just as your Stand was about to make it to the enemy, with him sobbing, Jotaro used his Stand's fist to punch the user and knock him unconscious. Your Ace's Wand stopped mere inches away from The Temperance card holder. Your Stand emitted a sickly wheeze of laughter before being de-manifested. You were still grooving to the song, though.
"This magic music grooves me! That dirty rhythm moves me! The devil's gotten to me through this dance!"
Jotaro was unsure of how to communicate with you. That uncertainty was cleared up, though, when you yourself removed your ear buds and spoke.
"Hey! Jotaro right?" You chuckled, pointing at him. Jotaro nodded, knowing you had caught his name in the fight. "That was pretty cool. We should do that again sometime."
"What?" Is all Jotaro could murmur in confusion as response to your suggestion.
"I'm [Y/N] [L/N]." Your pointing finger turned into an open palm hand to shake Jotaro's. "I'm a Stand user, too. Not like.." You looked down at the unconscious and shirtless man at your feet. "...him, though. I'm cool, like you."
Jotaro hated women who fawned over him. Most of the female students who crowded him referred to him as "cool," as well. Hearing you say it, though, was different. It wasn't of lust or love like those ladies at school. It was of genuine friendship and curiosity.
"That's.. Great." Jotaro said, extending his hand out and shaking yours. "Hey, I have a question…"
"Go ahead and shoot!" You shook his hand and returned yours to your side.
"Could you join us on our mission to Egypt?" Jotaro is well versed in being blunt and very straightforward. Not that you would know that.
You paused and processed what he had said. " "Our...?" Mission..? Egypt!?"
___
E N D.
A/N: AAAA! This has been sitting in my docs for sooo long! I had no idea where to take it and how to end it. Finally figured it out though! Apologies if it seems rushed or half-assed. This one is very similar to the In With A Bang one-shot. Introducing a character in that fashion. Also, In With A Bang has reached over 100 notes!! That's fuckin bonkers! Please go give it a read if you haven't! I promise it's better than this one, lol!
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fandomsnfluff · 3 years
Note
Could I request something with Solomon,Belphie,Satan and Mc? The new story in the event was adorable! ( if that’s too many characters feel free to make any changes, and I don’t really mind whichever scenario <3)
OMG UR SO RIGHT 😭 THE NEW STORY WAS SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE THIS PROMPT AAAA
twister! (solomon, belphie, satan, & mc)
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
As it turns out, the Devildom had many of its own versions of food and other amenities in the human world. You weren't particularly surprised by this, but figuring out what was familiar to you and not familiar to you proved to be generally pleasant, in some circumstances unpleasant, but usually just surprising.
What came as the biggest surprise to you was that there was, indeed, a Devildom version of the game Twister. It was actually called Devil’s Twist!, but the rules were practically identical to those of Twister. You found this out when Solomon invited you to play a game of it, along with Satan and Belphie, since they happened to be hanging out in the study together when the old sorcerer brought up his idea. Upon arriving, you learned exactly what your suspicions were telling you; it was basically an exact replica of the Twister that you were so fond of. You had memories playing this game with your human world friends as a child, and you were more than happy to indulge in these nostalgic desires with new friends.
As the four of you were getting set up, even more fond memories, but more recently, ran through your mind as you recalled the creative activities you set up with the Little D clones in this very room to try and burn off their energy. Satisfied with the fun they had had, they disappeared, leaving the four of you equally as satisfied but a bit sad that the bratty yet cute young demons had to disappear so soon. You fondly recalled painting along each other’s feet so you could join in the fun, and you smirked to yourself as you recalled their funny reactions to being painted on; it was no secret that they were all indeed very ticklish.
Then you smirked, hoping that they couldn’t see you; that gave you a perfect idea of how to mess with them in the middle of the game. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad; after all, it was you, and your were more than happy to bask in their rather gentle treatment of you.
Since the four of you were the only ones in the house, one of you had to reach over and spin the dial to the best of your ability; Solomon was the first one to volunteer, and to make sure it went smooth, his turn was last.
You were the first one up. Right hand on red was your first order, and you placed it on the corner; you were lucky since the red side was facing you. Next up was Satan, whose left foot had to go on green, and finally Belphie’s was left hand on yellow.
Then, when Solomon spun for his first turn, the spinner landed on left foot on red. He smirked at you before reaching over the whole mat to land his foot on the spot right next to where your hand was.
Oh, so that was how he wanted to play it. Luckily for you, you had a trick up your sleeve, and it seemed likely that he would be your first victim.
Since Solomon was no longer facing the board, Satan decided to give the next spin; left foot on blue. It was your turn. You easily swung your body to the side so you could plant your foot on one of the blue spots, the row being easily accessible since it was so close to the red row where your hand was. Solomon’s leg was now pressing into the side of your shoulder; now, more likely than ever, seemed that the sorcerer would be the easiest first target.
Satan’s next turn was relatively easy: right foot on yellow, and Belphie followed with a right foot on blue. The two demon brothers had made a smart move by deciding to move away from each other; Belphie was easily able to swing his body around Satan’s without colliding with his brother as he planted his foot on the blue dot.
Solomon’s next turn was right hand on red, and this put him at the perfect position for your impending attack. He reached over your body so his chest was leaning against your hip, exposing his entire torso to your left hand that had yet to be placed. Belphie let out an amused snort, and as Satan leaned down to spin for your next turn, he commented, “Getting a bit feisty over there already, huh?”
You and Solomon could only laugh. To your relief, your next move was right foot on red. You positioned your foot next to your left so you were now practically sitting upright, your right hand and two feet both planted on the dots on the mat. As Satan spun for his turn, you figured that this was the perfect time to strike. After all, your left hand was free, and it had yet to be designated a position. Smirking to yourself, you reached up and gave Solomon’s side a bit of a tweak, right where his ribs gave way to the soft fleshy part of his waist.
The sorcerer let out a surprised squeak at the sudden contact, and his body lurched away from your prying fingers. You tried to hold back a snort of amusement at his reaction, and judging by the sudden shuffling, you guessed that the brothers heard (and maybe saw) what was up. “MC, don’t do that, that’s cheating,” Belphie commented, but you could hear the laughter in his voice.
But you didn’t plan to stop there just yet. As Belphie was getting set up for his turn, you struck again, this time really pressing in and squeezing at the soft parts of Solomon’s side. He let out a squeal at the contact, and he began to try and squirm away from you, as best he could without losing his position. But you were pretty merciless; the second your fingers found his underarm, it all came crashing down (literally). The sorcerer fell over on top of you, crushing your hand under his armpit to try and halt the sensation, but you still didn’t stop. You continued to playfully tickle him until he was cackling, rolled up in a ball next to you on top of the mat.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Satan told you both, trying his best to sound annoyed, but you could tell that he was at least somewhat amused. “We’ll start another round now.”
You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you stood up, offering to be the spinner for the next round. Solomon glared at you as he took his spot on the opposite side of the mat, keeping his distance from you and your tickly fingers. You smirked at him, raising your eyebrows, and he just rolled his eyes before looking away.
As the four of you progressed through the second round, you found yourself becoming quite closely bound with Satan this time. Except he wasn’t quite literally curled around you like Solomon; he had his right foot on yellow while his other foot was on blue, and his two hands were stretched almost all the way to the other end of the mat, on a green and blue dot. You were at the leg end of him, your hands on red and blue dots, and seeing his leg outstretched like that behind him jogged a piece of your memory; the blonde was ridiculously sensitive on his knees. You were in the perfect position to strike. As Solomon was working out his turn, you reached over and lightly scribbled your finger along the back of his knee.
The reaction was instantaneous; Satan didn’t hesitate to completely drop onto his knees, letting out a full-on shriek of alarm. You were about to call out some words of encouragement to him until you realized that he had already lost; his feet had completely come off of the circles that they were on. “Dammit! I should have known you were gonna do that!” he hissed.
“Come on, MC, no more of that,” Solomon reminded you as you all stood up to start a third round. “That’s cheating.”
“But it’s fun,” you responded.
“No more! If you do it again I might just have to punish you. And it won’t be pleasant.”
Part of you wanted to roll your eyes at him, but deep down you knew what he was planning. Then you realized you still had to mess with Belphie, and you shrugged your shoulders and told yourself, fuck it. You had one more target, and if it meant seeing the youngest demon smirk and laugh alongside you, then it’ll surely be worth it.
However, the third round didn’t go quite as you expected. Satan and Solomon both started on one side of the mat, the one opposite of where you were positioned. Quickly, both of them had managed too twist some limb around some part of your body, leaving Belphie out of your reach.
The saving move came when you had to move your right hand from yellow to blue. This closed your exposed chest from either of the sneaky boys crowding you, who may have used that opening to get at your neck or even your armpits. In fact, the new move brought you even closer to Belphie. He was positioned diagonally with his hands on yellow and green, and both of his feet were on blue dots.
Satan took his turn after you, and before you could reach forward and attack Belphie, it was as if he had read your mind and warned you with a verbal, “Don’t.”
You decided to hesitate for a bit, but maybe you waited a bit too long. Belphie’s next move was left foot on yellow, so he pivoted away from you so his body was now parallel with the mat. You had to hide a scoff. But it was your turn next.
The pointer landed on left foot on red, so you stood up to stretch your leg all the way over to the opposite side of the mat. This was a much more comfortable position, but this moved you a bit closer to Belphie. However, he was in a position where his eyes were completely on you, and despite his sleepy nature, it looked as if his gaze were going to stay locked on you to avoid any moves that you were planning to make.
Satan and Solomon made their moves, and it seemed like they were more likely to become tangled with each other than with you, so you decided on moving towards Belphie. His next move was right foot on red, which made him have to move closer to you. Luckily, your next move was right hand on yellow, which put you pretty much up under his chest. You decided to strike again; Belphie wasn’t flexible enough to straighten up so he could get a clear view of you underneath him. As Satan made his next move, you reached your hand up to playfully pinch at the demon’s stomach.
Belphie squealed and began to squirm, attempting to choke his laughter back as you mercilessly tickled him. This one was a lot craftier, and he had attempted to move away from you more often than the others, so you figured it was only fair that you pushed his buttons a little more than the others. You decided to scribble against his sides a bit, but the moment you dug your fingers between his ribs, he came crashing down on top of you.
“MC!” Solomon called. “Do you actually want to play this game, or are you keen on continuing to mess it up for the rest of us?”
You were much too busy tickling Belphie to respond to him. Even though he was practically lying on top of you, you had mapped out his whole torso and were now digging into his armpits, enjoying the squeaky, panicked laughter erupting from his chest. Weakened from the laughter and the squirming, you were able to push him off of you, but when you turned around, you were crowded by an angry demon and an annoyed sorcerer.
“You wanna keep ruining the game for the rest of us?” Satan hissed.
“I thought you liked playing fair,” Solomon added, cracking his knuckles. “Guess not.”
It was as if Belphie guessed what was going on, for he had sat up and wrapped his arms under yours, holding you in place. “You know what you want to do,” the seventh-born drawled, but he wasn’t talking to you. Satan and Solomon exchanged glances, smirking.
Dread filled your whole body, and you (almost) began to regret disrupting the game so many times. “G-Guys...?” you said in a small voice.
But you didn’t have time to protest. For the umpteenth time that day, the whole room was filled with laughter.
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engineer-in-space · 3 years
Text
a simple call of the wild review that is totally professional and not way too detailed by me (February)
It's gonna be a bit of comparing to previous powerwolf albums/songs and remember everything is my own opinion. If you disagree/agree we may talk about it in a civilized way, I actually love talking to others about this shit!
But otherwise (hate, insults, etc.) you can keep your opinion somewhere where I can't see it :) Also, the album has barely been out for a day and things change with time and I may grow to like certain things more. (but there's not too much that I don't like tbh) But I hope you enjoy this metalhead-gremlin's ramblings!
Faster than the flame
I had to listen to it quite a few times before I could say anything about it. It's a powerful start into the new album, however, it is (as previously stated) powerful but didn't blow me away like the first songs on the previous albums. (Fire &forgive, Blessed &possessed, amen & attack - wait am I just now noticing a pattern here? oh my god. Anyway.) Maybe I got that personal feeling that I want it to be Fire & Forgive, which is, of course, not possible and would be boring. So i think I'm not even critizing the song but rather the order of the songs.
It feels like a typical powerwolf song; both lyrics and instrumental. Fast, heavy, something about flames and burning - awesome. The two Latin parts (I think it's called the pre-chorus? man, I have no idea and will just throw around these words because my internet connection is too bad to look this up. But if you listen, you'll know which parts I mean.) already give me goosebumps. I also really, really liked the bridge (again?? idk??) aka the "flame, flame, burning wild in heavens name" part. This was the most memorable part for me after the first time listening. Of course, the guitar arrangement throughout the whole song is just... god bless. I must say that using the word "pastor" is dangerous because my stupid brain keeps thinking Attila is singing about "pasta" again... Oh well, moving on!
Beast of Gevaudan
Man, I've been listening almost non-stop since it was released as a single! At first, my head was comparing it somewhat to army of the night but after a few times this feeling was gone and it became an awesome new idea/song. The choir and orchestra part are so well placed and support the rest of the instrumental and Attila's voice perfectly. Again, much fast, very powermetal. I've grown very fond of the guitar solo. The lyrics tell us a little about the story of the beast and I. Love. Storytelling. In. Songs. Glad matthew finally came around to put his idea out there!
This song also has a video, which left me speechless at first. I love Attila's acting so much??? And making this sort of their own story of Jesus was such a cool idea. Production is high quality as well (didn't expect anything less after The Sacrament of Sin MVs) and there were really nice shots in there. I doubt that I will get tired of this song and this video anytime soon!
Dancing with the dead
That choir stuff in the beginning, following by that awesome guitar riff already had me. I couldn't stop listening to this one either. This might be, in my opinion, the most catchy song on the whole album. The intruments are in perfect harmony with Attila's heavenly voice. The transition into the guitar solo is so damn smooth and well done. I'm having a whole crisis about how good this song is.
The lyrics are interesting too! Again, there's a story to be told. As far as I can interpret it, being introduced to some darker powers and growing to enjoy them, despite previously having lots of faith, is what's going on here. It has this slight feeling of... corruption (in a good way of course). This makes me want to go dancing (with the dead)
This one also has a video! Once again, very high quality. Every band member had their "special moments/shots" and just looked stunning. But Attila left them all behind this time. Slow dancing, in a suit, with that smirk on his lips??? Well done, my dude.
Varcolac
This one's dark and heavy. It brings me back to the good ol' times of Lupus Dei and Bible of the Beast. Just with more orchestra, choir and overall harmony. It makes me so happy that Powerwolf is using so many real life legends and figures on this album! And they did such a good job with them as well. If this song was alive, it would be a scary beast.
The typical metal elements and orchestra/choir parts are very well balanced. And the organ throughout the whole song is fitting. It supports the dark and sinister feeling of the whole thing. My favourite part may be the "And as army we bing fire..." parts! Man, I just love werewolves. Also, I think Attila's famous gibberish singing made a return in this one!
Alive or undead
Oh boy,here we go. The piano in this one is incredible. "Here we STAAAAAAND!" Goosebumps and shivers. Everything about this is so emotional andreading the lyrics while listening just makes me want to cry, ok?! T_T Powerwolf has become so flexible, exploring different ways to make music. This could have been some kind of typical powermetal song but it's not and I'm glad about it.
Even if it's a little different, they never stray to far from what makes them special. The few parts, reminding one of typical church music would not have been necessary but are appreciated! They know when to leave out the guitars and go slowly. What bothers me a little, is that it somehow feels like Attila's voice had a tiny bit more potential up to the chorus. It could've been a little bit softer? if i can put it that way. But honestly this song is raw emotion and everything still fits together. If you thought their first ballad was emotional, buckle up, this one kicked me right in the feels.
Blood for blood (Faoladh)
Powerwolf ventures again into the folk metal territory and successfully conquers it! Could be a headline of something. Anyway, this song is a very worthy successor of Incense & Iron! It just makes me happy, its melody is so light - combined with your typical Powerwolf lyrics. Perfect song to start jumping up and down! It radiates motivational energy. Just like Dancing with the dead, this song has a very smooth transition to the guitar parts.
The melody is strong but still easy enough to quickly get into it! I can barely sit still and write this aaaa. Seriously, I am just happy with this song and will go jump and headbang a while to it!
Glaubenskraft
I have returned from jumping and oh no. It's a German song. Bold of them to go all out on that Latin beginning... it works really well though! It might be because I'm German but this song hits hard. Very hard. It's not easy to make this language sound good and ( if you don't happen to know much about German) the lyrics consist of a bunch of old words and grammar you wouldn't normally use anymore. But they made it fucking work!!! The quiet verses only make the pre-chorus and chorus itself heavier and blow me away. And SOMEHOW this super epic song with (made up, at least I'm pretty sure they don't exist like that) Latin words is about.. you know what Powerwolf writes about a lot. And I LOVE that. It's so subtle and only if you read into it, you're like "wait a minute".
This song has a feeling of corruption too. But not in a good way this time. It feels evil and intimidating and - honestly, I can't get enough of it. Everyone of my neighbours will think I'm some kind of weird Christian fanatic because I WILL yell "Glaubenskraft" just as much as I yelled "Stossgebet". Worth it, tho.
Call of the wild
The song with the same title as the album! (or the other way around, whatever.) This song is just catchy from the beginning to the end. Like many other songs its fast and hard. Just how I like it. Don't take that out of context.
The lyrics and instruments go wild (haha get it), with a really neat Latin pre-chorus. It's very fun to listen to. Personally, it makes me feel like I belong to the pack. That we're strong together, that we can say fuck it once in a while and just go crazy. The chanted part near the end of the song reminds me strongly of Sanctified with dynamite (ya know "die, die dynamite" and "call, call, call of the wild") and it's really cool they pick up on old things once again. Be it intentional or not. It's a reminder that they still are who they were back then - and their music is still fucking incredible.
Simply an epic song, strong vocals, strong guitars. I really, really like the intro. Attila has to sing so many words in such little time, does he even need to breathe now and then?
Now I'm wondering what came first; the album title or the track title? Chicken or the egg?
Sermon of swords
First of all: WHAT IS THAT OMINOUS VOICE IN THE BEGINNING. Mark me down as horny and scared. Ahem.
I really like how the verse and the chorus have their own theme and melody going on and yet they're connected. The chorus is super catchy too! And just say it yourself "Sermon of swords", how cool does it sound??? The choir in the beginning is a really neat introduction into the whole song. The lyrics match the whole album, very much a soundtrack to go on a crusade to, like Raise your fist, Evangelist or Christ & Combat. Just... "AAMEEN!" Ok, I'm actually going insane here, calm down, Feb. These might be my favourite lyrics of the whole album I think?? (unless I said that somewhere else already, then i have more than one favourite.)
The whole song has a more "classical" feeling to it, not only in the Powerwolf sense but also in the Heavy Metal sense in general. BUT. Orchestra and choir are prefectly mixed, especially supporting Attila in the chorus. The guitar solo is really cool and sounds very Greywolf-y, if you know what I mean. It's just Matthew's style.
Undress to confess
The name of this song says it all. This is your friendly reminder that no matter how much they preach about Jesus or the Devil, Powerwolf should not be taken too seriously. When I first saw the title I couldn't help but chuckle a little.
The melody is pretty catchy and easy to remember, the organ and general approach reminds me of Demons are a girl's best friend. I absolutely love how the lyrics are on that thin line of somewhat poetic and ridiculous. Let me provide two examples here: "all the world we posess for desire and sin we carress" - man, this sounds pretty.
And there's also "dressed to hide the dark, and obsessed to ride him hard on the.... crucifix." Yeah, I... I don't know what I expected here. Anyway, this is how you describe church sex without actually using explicit words. (why are you booing me, i'm right)
Still really nice to listen to and have a good time!
Reverent of rats
We arrived at the last song of the album! And here we picked up on the speed and power again! The way the organ is played during the verses makes it so... sinister. Again, this piece reminds me of Lupus Dei. The verses keep the sinister feeling while the chorus picks up more... drama? An epic melody mixed with epic words make my soul ascend to heaven.
This guitar solo is also the absolute good shit. It might be my favourite from all the songs of this album?! Additionally, the drums? I don't know why but they really stand out here. Love how fast paced they are.
Aaaaand that's it! If you've read all the way through holy shit, you are actually a badass. Thank you for staying with me, my werewolf friend. Maybe we'll meet where the wild wolves have gone. But always remember: Metal is religion.
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yououui · 3 years
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you know what I can’t stop thinking? about the scars that Kurogane probably have on his back for protecting fai in Tokyo just hushushauh and thinking about fai’s reaction to it. maybe they are being intimate one day and fai notices them and goes completely still cause he can’t stop thinking about how Kuro was hurt protecting him and aaaa if you would like to make write a fic about it, I wouldn’t mind <3
Air blows through the open balcony doors, cool and sweet, bringing with it happy chatter and scents of pies, fruits, and fresh bread. A happy country now safe from harm meanders below, while inside the palace of Clow, wounds are tended to and hearts healed.
Fai hadn’t meant to follow Kurogane back to his room. They’d simply begun walking together after dinner, as natural as though they were attached at the hip, and both walked through Kurogane’s bedroom door without a thought. It wasn’t until Fai saw Kurogane’s bed that he remembered where he was and what he was doing and tried to politely slip out of the room.
“You can stay,” Kurogane had told him.
So he did.
Now, he sits on the edge of Kurogane’s bed, one leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on his knee and chin perched in his palm, watching the sun set outside the balcony doors. He sighs, content though the small breath makes his sore body ache. It was finally all over. He didn’t even know what to do with himself and this new life he’d been given. He lets himself not think about the future too much; he deserves the relaxation of shutting his brain off, he thinks.
Kurogane groans from where he is standing nearby. Fai peers over at him; the ninja is standing shirtless (Fai tries not to stare) with his right hand stretched over his left shoulder. There’s an empty space where his left arm should be, the prosthetic having gotten destroyed in their final battle, and the medics of Clow had provided some treatments for the pain in his tight muscles. Seemingly though, Kurogane is having issues applying said treatment.
He looks at Fai and lifts a brow. “Mind helping me out? I can’t reach the spot that’s really bugging me.”
Fai blinks, mildly surprised by the request, but nods and uncurls himself to stand and pad quietly across the room. Kurogane holds out his hand, allowing Fai to scoop off the unused ointment, then turns around. Fai’s body goes still.
Kurogane says something while pointing over his shoulder to where Fai should apply the ointment, but his words go unheard by Fai, his voice muffled like Fai is sinking under heavy water. Fai can’t breathe, either, his lungs full of that icy water, his throat choking on it until he’s drowning.
Under the warm, red-tinged light of the setting sun, Kurogane’s bared back shows off its multitude of scars. Fai had seen a few of them before throughout their travels, small ones scattered over his skin from previous battles, but now there are new ones. Large, horrible, painful scars that spread from hip to shoulder, that tell ghost stories of an awful memory. A grisly reminder of Fai’s own magic turned against him, of his own power shredding Kurogane’s back open as the man acted as a shield for Fai.
“Oi, mage. You okay?” Kurogane asks, his voice slowly breaking through the water.
Fai’s chest heaves with a new breath and he lifts his eyes; Kurogane is looking at him over his shoulder curiously. “I-I’m fine,” Fai breathes as he returns to his senses and carefully spreads the ointment over Kurogane’s left shoulder. 
Don’t focus on the scars, he tells himself, just focus on helping Kurogane’s pain. Pain caused from his missing left arm, another scar, another sacrifice made in the name of Fai’s life. 
Fai’s hand stops its careful movements, his fingers lingering over Kurogane’s skin. “Mage?” Kurogane asks again, quieter this time.
“I...” Fai’s fingers skirt lower, ghosting over the scars on Kurogane’s back like he’s afraid of hurting him. “I’m sorry.”
Fai watches that broad back expand with a deep breath, and then Kurogane turns around to look at him properly. “For what?” He asks quietly.
Fai keeps his eyes low. “Everything. I’m sorry for everything. Everything I did, and...” He gestures to Kurogane’s body, his eyes getting stuck on his left shoulder, the missing piece of him. “All the times you let yourself get hurt. For me.”
Kurogane doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, he turns back around and points over his shoulder. “Right here,” He instructs.
Fai’s brows furrow in confusion but, like he doesn’t know what else to do or say, he does as Kurogane says and begins rubbing the ointment in. They stand in silence for a few long moments as Fai works, his eyes drifting over the scars marring Kurogane’s back as his fingers press gently yet firmly into Kurogane’s muscle.
“I’m not accepting your apology ‘cause you don’t have anything to apologize for, you idiot,” Kurogane says suddenly. “None of this was your fault.”
“But my magic—” Fai tries to say.
“That wasn’t you,” Kurogane tells him.
Fai frowns. “Your arm—”
“Wasn’t you, either.”
Fai’s lips twist as something builds in his throat. “...That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Kurogane asks. “Little lower.”
Fai lowers his fingers and presses into that spot. Kurogane sighs a bit under the touch. “The point,” Fai continues. “Is that you got hurt for me.”
“That was my choice,” Kurogane says. “So why should you apologize for what I did?”
“It was because of me!” Fai says, his voice rising in frustration. “Because I was there, because you felt like you needed to—because you—”
“Because I what, mage?” Kurogane asks, but Fai’s voice dies in his throat, leaving him unable to answer. Instead, he focuses his attention back on massaging Kurogane’s shoulder, leaving Kurogane to answer for him. “I don’t do things I regret. Everything I did, I did because I wanted to. I didn’t want you to die, so I did what I had to. Nothin’ there for you to apologize for, got it?”
Fai sighs and rests his hand flat over Kurogane’s back, over the scars haunting him. Of course he knew that. Of course he knew, from that moment in Tokyo when Kurogane all but begged for Fai’s life, that Kurogane cared enough about him to sacrifice himself to keep Fai alive.
That he loved Fai.
“But can’t you just... let me anyway?” Fai pleads quietly.
“You can do whatever you want,” Kurogane responds. “Doesn’t mean I’ll accept your apology.”
Fai chuckles quietly at that and shakes his head. “Typical Kuro-sama.”
Kurogane turns around, hiding his back from Fai, and knocks his knuckles softly against the side of Fai’s head. “Thought your head wasn’t so thick these days. Guess I was wrong.”
Fai lifts his head to say a teasing retort, but his words get stuck in his throat when he sees the quiet smile on Kurogane’s lips, his eyes soft as they look at Fai. With his one hand he cups Fai’s cheek, smooths his thumb against the delicate skin under Fai’s left eye.
“I forgot to tell you before, but it’s good to see you with both eyes again,” Kurogane says quietly.
Fai smiles shakily. “I’ll make sure we get to Piffle as soon as we can so we can replace your arm,” He says. “And it’ll fit better this time. I promise.”
Kurogane nods at him, still smiling, and the two take a moment to simply exist there, in that moment and that space of just the two of them. Kurogane’s hand is warm against Fai’s cheek and Fai tries not to miss the touch too much when Kurogane eventually pulls away so he can turn to the nearby table to put away the jar of ointment.
“Um, do you need more?” Fai asks quickly. “I can keep going if it still hurts.”
Kurogane rolls his shoulder and shrugs. “Still a little sore I guess.”
“Maybe it’d be better if you lied down on the bed...?” Fai trails off as his words catch up to him, his face heating up as he realizes the... implication.
Kurogane, though, snorts in laughter and shakes his head. “Didn’t think you’d be so quick to get into my pants, mage.”
“I wasn’t trying!” Fai cries, but, never one to back down to such a challenge, slyly adds, “Unless, of course, you’re offering...”
Fai gets a face full of Kurogane’s shirt flung at him and laughter blooms between them in the quiet room. The scars will never fade for good, Fai realizes, but at least the pain will. And if he can help Kurogane through it, then maybe that will be enough.
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