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perceabeth · 2 years

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“that moment where your character just… looks. just looks at their love interest for more than five seconds and doesn’t understand why or how this earth can exist and the sun and moon exist and the sky can be an eternal source of happiness and yet this person right here can bring so much more warmth and comfort to them with just a single glance” you wld do this SOOOOOO well (as you wld all of them but this one has me w my head in my hands)

cicada my beloved happy happy bday i know this isn't exactly what u said but i tried hope it helps <3333

Annabeth really does not want to be having this conversation right now.

“I’m just saying,” If Silena has registered her disinterest, she doesn’t let it affect her flow. “It wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he owes you a date anyway, so you might as well, right?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Annabeth complains and Clarisse barks out a hearty laugh, leaning back against the stone steps in the amphitheatre and taking a sip of water. Annabeth scowls. “What? It wasn’t! We were supposed to catch a movie but he’s, like, totally into this other girl.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Kind of.” Annabeth thinks about it. “She’s got freckles. I suppose that’s pretty.”

“So you’re jealous.” Silena concludes. “Which means you totally like Percy, and therefore, coming back to my original point– you should ask him to the fireworks.”

Annabeth is not impressed, but it’s harder to wear it on her face when she’s spending all this effort fighting the outrageous heat that’s creeping up to her cheeks. “I don’t like Percy. He’s like– he’s like this thorn in my side.”

“He’s an idiot.” Clarisse agrees. Then she tilts her head to the side and considers it. “But I’d say you were more a pain in his ass than the other way around.”

“No way.” Silena shakes her head, interrupting before Annabeth could voice her outrage. “Annabeth’s right. He’s worse.”

“Annabeth is bossy.” Clarisse challenges.

“Percy is hyper-argumentative.” Silena counters.

“Annabeth is a hothead.”

“So is Percy.”

“Annabeth–”

“Hey!” Annabeth cuts in. “Annabeth can hear you, you know? And she doesn’t like what she’s hearing.”

“Fine. Then scram.” Clarisse kicks her ankle lightly with hers. “This practice session was a spectacular waste of time. We got no sparring done and if a war does come to us, I’m pretty sure Silena’s going to be the first to die.”

“Excuse me.” Silena turns on Clarisse then, holding up her perfectly manicured hands. “I happen to be gifted with these nails. You don’t know the damage I can do, La Rue.”

“Your acrylics versus the Lord of Time. Interesting.” Clarisse pretends to think about it. “Let’s hope Annabeth kills the Prophecy Kid this summer so none of us have to deal with that coming to fruition.”

“Whatever. Give me two weeks and I’ll kick your ass with a spear.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Even as Annabeth sits between her friends, she feels herself drifting away– as if the scene in front of her is already becoming a memory; as if this is one of those moments she’ll revisit every so often as she moves forward– like she stood on the precipice of the End of something, even if she doesn’t know what yet.

“Annabeth.” A man’s voice draws her out of her thoughts. All three girls turn around to see Quintus standing over them, Percy only a few steps behind him. He peers around their sword fighting teacher to meet Annabeth’s eye, his lips quirking upwards slightly, and her heart somersaults. “I was hoping you and Percy could give me a hand– clean out the armoury for me?”

“It’s my time off.” Annabeth whines. Why is Percy always dragging her into sharing his chores with him?

“Come on, Wise Girl.” Percy matches her tone. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, right?”

“I hate you.” Annabeth grumbles, taking Quintus’ hand and letting him pull her off the ground. Silena wriggles her eyebrows at her and Clarisse smirks, so when their teacher’s back is turned to her, Annabeth flips them off. It does little to subdue them, though, because their cackles echo through the amphitheatre long after she’s left.

“What is this?” Percy pulls out a wicked blade attached to the end of a long, heavy stick. “Oh my gods, is this a javelin? I didn’t even realise we had them here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth snorts. “As if you could fight with one of those.”

“You calling me weak?”

“I’m just saying that your arms are kind of skinny.”

“You’re one to talk.” Percy cries. There’s something so endearing about the indignation on his face that Annabeth bursts out laughing. Sometimes it’s like Percy does it deliberately– knows exactly how to behave to make uncontrollable giggles bubble in her tummy. If he notices, he doesn’t pay mind to it, instead focusing on clearing the nearest table and resting his elbow on the surface. He looks up at her, unspoken challenge framing his features in a special kind of light. “I’m way stronger than you– so only come here if you’re willing to lose.”

“As if.” Annabeth rolls her eyes, taking his hand and grinding her bony elbow painfully into the wood. Percy’s eyes leave hers, drifting to their hands, his fingers curled tightly around hers, and she doesn’t miss the way his breathing stutters slightly. An unattractive smugness fights its way to her lips. Maybe Silena was right– she could totally ask him to the fireworks– but right now, she has other priorities. She leans forward. “You’re going to get beaten by a girl, Seaweed Brain.”

“Oh yeah?” Percy, as always, matches her exact energy, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. “Joke’s on you, I’m used to it.”

Annabeth grins. “Good.”

“Okay, on three.” Percy says. “One, two–”

The back of his hand crashes into the table. For a moment, he looks confused, blinking at their still entwined hands resting on the wooden surface. Slowly, his grip tightens around her palm, his smooth features twisting into a scowl.

“You cheated.” He says, dangerously quiet. Then he pushes back against her hand until he can pin it down. Annabeth struggles to pull away, but it’s like fighting against iron.

“Let go.” She laughs, but Percy doesn’t budge. The same evil part of her that cheated crows. “Percy, stop.”

“No. You cheated. You have to pay.” Percy’s face breaks into a grin, his shining eyes bright in the dimly lit glorified cupboard they’re stuck in. In a flash, he’s on her side of the table, his fingers digging into her sides, and a squeal escapes her.

“Percy!” Annabeth feels her knees giving way as she drops to the floor, taking her friend down with her. When he finally does stop tickling her, she’s out of breath, her cheeks sore from the laughter. Next to her, Percy leans his head against the leg of the table, his face flushed and his chest heaving, a manic smile on his lips.

“You’re such an asshole, Annabeth.” He doesn’t sound offended by it.

Instead of replying, Annabeth is content to watch him catch his breath, leftover laughter still breaking out from him in throaty splits. Miraculously, his hair is even messier now than it was this morning, but Annabeth thinks it suits him. His lips are parted, and for a second, she wonders what it might be like to be able to lean over and kiss him. She’s never kissed a boy before– but Silena and Clarisse have, and they both seem to enjoy it a ton. For a while in the winter, she’d considered kissing one of the boys at Camp, but they’re all gross. She wonders if she’d like kissing Percy.

It’s like that a lot. Ever since the winter, when he’d admitted that he’d only gone on a quest to save her– Annabeth had found it difficult to even think about him without her stomach exploding into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Now that he’s back at Camp, back with her– she’s starting to realise just how much more she likes him than anybody else around here. This isn’t how she felt about Luke, not how she felt about any of the boys she’d had a crush on before. With Percy, she’s come to realise, everything is different.

How is it possible, Annabeth finds herself wondering, that she exists in this world at the same time that he does? He’d come into her life, a whirlwind of grief and anger and adventure and something she doesn’t want to dwell on– and he’d healed her, inside and out. Not by trying; not by finding all her broken pieces– but simply by existing. Percy lives, and Annabeth is better for it. He lives, and the sun above them dims, the moon loses her brilliance, the colours in the world dull. Does he know that?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Percy draws her out of her thoughts, touching his cheek consciously. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Yeah.” Annabeth lies hollowly, reaching over and brushing her thumb over his jaw. Is that a stubble? When’d he get so mature? She swallows thickly. “You’re good.”

“Thanks.” Percy mumbles, holding her gaze. It’s a loaded, slow moment, but she draws away first. She always does– in all honesty, Annabeth is a coward. He must sense it, because he brushes his fingers over her wrist and says, “It’s a shame, you know.”

“What?”

A wicked smile grows on his lips. “I never got to beat your ass.”

“You’re deluded, Percy.” Annabeth pokes his shoulder. “You couldn’t beat me if my arm was broken.”

“Wanna bet?” Percy demands. “Rematch. I win, you tell everyone at Camp how strong and impressive I am. You win, and… I’ll shut up about my strong, impressive arms for an entire summer.”

Annabeth can’t fight the smile only he ever seems to bring out in her. He’d chosen his words carefully, just as he always did. A new dawn falls upon them, an idea of this summer being one of many more. A summer in the future after Annabeth’s victory when Percy could go back to bragging about his bicep curl personal bests. What could be better? “You’re so on.”

#cicada #d4dpercabeth #iconic url btw #still iconic #percabeth fanfiction #i kinda forgot my writing tag im ngl <3 #q&a

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thegrandlinesimp · 2 years

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This turned out to be less kink and more character study, my brain saw it as a prompt and I rolled with it. And just so you know I headcanon Kid is left handed (for reasons that would take too long to explain here).

Also, did I look up images of amputee stumps mere days post operation because I’m a slut for authenticity and Oda is a pussy in not drawing it? Yes, yes I did.

Warnings: not much really, a bit angsty, some mentions of blood but nothing terrible, vague mentions of past child abuse (Kid’s mum is a bitch)

Word count: 3.5k

The Victoria Punk rocked steadily on the dark sea, waves lapping at her sides as she creaked in response. The moon was high in the sky and stars shining above, their sparkling light reflected off the surface of the calm waters. A castle loomed over the ship, turrets crumbling with age and the water had long since smoothed the once rocky beach. Most of the ship’s crew were inside the ancient walls, save for a small few, one of which was staring out at the open waters from behind a striped mask.

Killer sighed as he leaned against the ship’s railing, staring out to the midnight shrouded sea with a heavy heart. His stomach twisted at a memory from a few nights ago, a rather heated verbal fight he’d had with his captain that - for the first time since they’d started dating - didn’t end with a rough, carnal fuck.

Though much to Killer’s unease, they hadn’t had sex in a solid four months, even though Kid had been given the ‘okay’ by Doc three weeks ago, so long as he went easy. He’d expected Kid to jump him that night at the very latest, but nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen for two and a half weeks, with Kid continuing to go bed wearing an old, long sleeved jumper he’d found in storage a few months prior. During the day the young captain would cling to the left side of his coat, as if scared it’d fall away to reveal-

There was a flash of a blade, Kid let out a roar of agony as he stumbled and fell.

His stomach twisted again and he leaned over the railing, he gripped it tight with one hand while with the other he grabbed his mask, ready to tear it off should he suddenly be sick.

Blood, gore and death had never fazed Killer, it was how he’d earned his name, just a nameless orphan on the streets often found with blood on his hands around the time a body turned up. Though it was usually scumbags, and people turned a blind eye to the marines as they were well hated on his home island. No, he’d seen limbs go flying, sent them so with his own blade. Sometimes it wasn’t him who dismembered a person in the middle of a fight, but that had never effected him.

But this was different.

This was Kid.

If Doc hadn’t been there, he would’ve…

Killer just wanted to hold him, to have him in his arms, feel that he was real. He still remembered his beloved captain, pale, still, silent in the med bay, his precious Punk in tatters as she barely made it to dry land. Kid’s fire had dulled since then, a soft ember that flickered with defiance every now and then, giving Killer a glimmer of hope.

He knew why kid was like this, when you know someone for so long you can just see the way their brain thinks. That, and having the redhead yell at him the other night “why fuck? You won’t even be able to get up what with how gross I look!” was a dead giveaway. When he used to get a new scar he’d flex his muscles, telling the tale of how he’d won the battle, coming out alive.

But that was just it, he’d barley made it this time, this time he’d lost.

He knew Kid didn’t feel worthy, old childhood wounds his mother gave him opening back up from the severe blow to his ego. Insults like ‘tattered little scumbag’ and ‘scrawny, worthless sewerage waste’ were some of the nicer things she had called him while dealing out punishment. Kid had an odd, silent pride in his looks now that he was a lot older, the new scars, not to mention the missing arm, had destroyed the self image he’d made. He’d tossed all his jewellery into the ships treasure hoard with a look of disgust on his face, punching a mirror and shattering it to piece only a couple of days later.

This couldn’t go on.

He needed his captain back.

He needed Kid back.

Killer grit his teeth and straightened, mind made up as he turned, and made his way below deck to Kid’s workshop.

He needed to let Kid know how he felt, and if talking wouldn’t do it, then the captain’s favourite pass time would have to do.

He paused, making the quick decision to stop off at his and Kid’s cabin first. Perhaps drastic times called for even more drastic measures.

***

Kid gave another glance to the schematics Doc had given him, his gaze coming to his own rough sketch of what he wanted the prosthetic to look like and finally to the metal skeletal structure in front of him. Wires hung this way and that, the technician side of his current project confusing him to no end as he gnawed on the handle of his screwdriver, teeth marks already etched deep into the old tool.

It still didn’t seem quite right.

Then again, the last two attempts seemed about the same at this stage, promptly hurled across the room in a fit of rage at his own ineptitude.

He was just about to fall into the same pattern of descent into self hatred and rage when the door to his workshop was unlocked. There’d been no scraping of the key on the other side as the wielder tried to put it in the hole, so either the old man hadn’t been drinking too much, or it was-

Killer nodded at him as he walked in, “Kid.”

Or it was the last person he wanted to see…

He bit harder on the screwdriver, sparing his first mate a glance and a grunt before trying to hyper focus on his current task.

It was a bit difficult, though, with Killer just standing there, staring at him from behind his mask.

“What?” He finally said as he whirled around to face the older man, tone far sharper than he intended it to be.

Killer, of course, didn’t seemed fazed, not even showing the little uncomfortable shift only Kid saw. He tilted his head slightly to one side and Kid’s heart plummeted, he knew that one. That wasn’t an uncomfortable shift.

It was a coy look.

“You seem tense,” the suggestive tone drove his worries home.

Kid bared his teeth in a sneer, “Whatever,” and turned back to his work table.

It wasn’t a clear no, something he knew Killer would take for certainty, but he didn’t want to push him away too harshly.

Didn’t want him to leave him.

Leave him alone, yes, but not…

Though instead of hearing the sound of footsteps walking away, there was a soft clunk of something being placed of the table. When Kid looked up, he immediately wished he hadn’t, because no matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn’t.

Killer’s eyes had always had a glint of curiosity in them, regarding the redhead from behind long bangs, but to Kid it was a look of knowing, of seeing right through someone or something. It was a calculating gaze that studied him, tried to soak in every inch of his being, made him grab the left side of his coat and pull it closer, not wanting to see the way blonde’s face would twist in disgust when he saw the extent of the damage.

The blonde’s movement was precise when he walked forward, a hand coming to rest on Kid’s right shoulder, yet he stood behind him to the left. Kid sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, body going ridged as he grit his teeth. Oh god he wanted what Killer was offering him, needed it even. He bowed his head and hunched his shoulders, but didn’t say anything.

He didn’t want to get into another fight.

He was happy to fight with anyone.

But not Killer, never Killer.

Kid gasped as warm air ghosted against the back of his neck, lips brushing against scars that hadn’t yet properly formed. He shivered, face heating up as warmth pooled in his gut. He didn’t know if it was on instinct or out of habit, but he leaned forward and bared the back of his neck, his only hand resting on the table.

He was deeply relieved when Killer moved so he was standing on Kid’s right side.

“Kid,” voice so familiar, so understanding and soft that he wanted to pull its owner close and never let go.

“We…shouldn’t…” Kid but his lip, refraining from turning to look at his right hand man.

“Why?”

Such a simple question, and so simply answered too, but Kid hated everything about ‘why’.

He wanted to push Killer away, should push him away, “You’ll hate what you see.”

“Hate you?” a hand cupped the side of his face, forcing him to turn his head even though he desperately wanted to anyway.

Kid could never get enough of the depth of this man’s eyes, how they swum with lust and love for him.

All the more reason they shouldn’t, it’d break him if Killer couldn’t stand the sight of him. He’d rather face the entirety of the Marine fleet, with full knowledge he’d die, than see the slightest grimace on the older man’s face.

“How could I ever hate you?”

Kissing Killer was probably the most familiar thing Kid had ever done, even the first time on the other side of the world it had felt like coming home.

This time felt exactly the same.

The rub of lipstick on lipstick, the line he painted across Kid’s red stained lips, the way he tilted his head to damn near fuck Kid’s mouth with his tongue.

He loved all of it.

He’d missed all of it.

Fingers curled through scarlet locks as Killer sucked on his tongue, the warmth in his stomach quickly fanned into flames as he groaned. There was a firm tug on hair and he gasped, head jerking back, baring his neck. Lips pressed against his pulse, tongue swirling over the spot as his heartbeat quickened at the feeling.

“Kil,” Kid panted, going to lift the hand that was resting behind him on the table to tangle it in the blonde’s long hair.

Killer, however, was leaning against him too hard, the loss of his hand on the surface behind him nearly caused Kid to fall back. His hand slammed back down and he snarled, throat tightening as tears threatened to well up in his eyes.

“Fucking, stupid piece of-“

“Shh,” Killer hushed him, taking a step back and allowing Kid to stand up straight, he grabbed Kid’s now free hand and tugged, “Couch.”

God, the way his voice dropped, the air of command about him. Kid wanted to give in so badly…

Fuck it, fuck this, fuck everything!

Kid took a deep breath and held it for a moment, mind going blank as he made it up. He looked Killer right in the eyes as he pulled his hand back, the other man’s brow raising in surprise. He pulled his arm through he’s black vest, casting off his coat on the right side at the same time. The weight of the red fabric pulled at the vest and with so little holding it up on the left side it all crumpled to the ground.

Leaving Kid bare from the waist up.

His throat tightened as Killer stared at what remained of his left arm, Doc told him to keep the bandage off for as long as possible to ‘let the skin breathe’, get it get used to sensations. A bunch of bullshit of course, but he owed the man his life and Doc had never steered him wrong. He was regretting it now, though.

A bunch of tissue and stuff had been removed, allowing the skin to be sewed over the open wound, making a stump, twisted and deformed. Scars were scattered up what remained of his arm, ending over his left eye, a few too many sword swipes that had been too fast to dodge or use his powers to reflect. He felt gross, wrong, standing there in front of Killer, with his beautiful long hair, soft blue eyes. Sure, his left arm was fucked up from the fight with Red-Hair, but he still looked pretty damn-

“Perfect,” Killer whispered, breaking Kid from his barreling train of self loathing, “you’re perfect.”

His face felt hot as Killer stared down at him, blue eyes so tender as he reached down and hooked some stray hair behind Kid’s ear. Kid bit his lip, body tense, still not too sure about being on the receiving end with another man; old hangups from how his mother’s clients would tell her how ‘pretty’ her seven year old son looked, their gaze leering and making his skin crawl. The only reason he was doing this was because it was Killer. Killer would never hurt him.

And in that he found solace.

“You’re perfect,” Killer murmured, a soft smile curling in his lips.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked to the side-

“Sh-shut up,” he muttered, looking away just as he did back then, during that wild first night.

And just as he did back then, Killer chuckled, pinching Kid’s chin between his index finger and thumb and forcing his head to turn back to look at him, “But you are.”

“Bastard,” Kid mumbled.

Yet the blonde just gave him a soft smile, reaching up to pull off Kid’s welding goggles, letting his hair fall down over his ears and eyes, placing them carefully on the workbench.

“Hmm, and so handsome.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kid scoffed.

“Oh,” Killer chuckled, the sound always made Kid’s heart soar, “a compliment from the great Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid? I must be a lucky man.”

Kid huffed, smirking, the tip of his nose bumping against the blonde’s, “Just shut up and kiss me, dumbass.”

The two of them spun around, Killer now standing with his back to the work table, purple lips pressing against his red ones. Hands placed on his chest prompted him to walk back, pausing nearly every step to steady his lips against Killer’s. Kid’s breath hitched as the heel of his boot hit the couch and he allowed himself to be shoved down.

“Strip,” Killer all but growled, hands trembling as he fumbled with his belt buckle, “‘m gonna ride you.”

Kid had already been kicking off his boots before Killer had even started talking, but he began scrambling after hearing that, struggling to shove his pants down without undoing his belt. By the time he got his pants and boxers around his bare ankles, the older man was already stripped naked.

“Lube’s, uh,” fucking hell, why where his pants so hard to get off?

“Don’t need it,” Killer said, and he promptly shoved Kid to lay on his back, pulling off the redhead’s pants the rest of the way.

He groaned as warm, soft lips wrapped around his already half-hard cock, tongue rubbing down the underside as Killer took him in. Kid’s one hand darted to tangle in the mop of golden locks bouncing up and down above his length, cock throbbing every time Killer gagged or choked on him.

“Fuck,” he panted, a lopsided smirk forming on his lips, “Never seen ya so desperate to suck my dick.”

Kid mentally kicked himself for having a big mouth as Killer pulled off him, though the dark look in those blue eyes promised something far better than a mouth to fuck.

“Can’t help it,” Killer said, tone surprisingly soft for how vigorously he’d been sucking the redhead off, he got up on the couch, gracefully swing a leg over him to straddling his hips, “missed you.”

That shut him up, his cheeks and ears turning a similar shade of red to his hair.

Kid’s breath hitched as the tip of his cock nudged Killer’s lubed hole. Fucking hell, he’d gone and prepped himself for this, the idea of the blonde coming in here with the specific goal of riding him made Kid’s head spin. Killer only bottomed when he offered it to his captain, and even then it was with specific rules: he had to be facing Kid, Killer was in charge and no finishing inside. Sure, he offered now and then, but it was always a calm question, sometimes a reward or something, not bursting into his workshop and seducing him onto the couch!

It was like one of his fantasies was playing out.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet, Kid,” the way Killer drew out his name as he rocked back against his cock had him groaning.

“Fuck, c’mon, need ya to- fuck,” he slammed his head back against the cushion beneath him as the blonde slowly sank down.

“What was that?” Killer huffed, shifting to grab the back of the couch with one hand and slowly jerk himself off with the other, “Can’t hear you through your whimpering.”

“F-fuck off,” but all the bite had left his voice, too subdued by the tight heat slowly engulfing his dick.

They both groaned when Killer’s sat fully on Kid’s length, the redhead’s eyes fixated on the ceiling and his one hand holding Killer’s hip in a death grip.

The blonde sighed as he circled his hips, slowly rocking on Kid’s lap, head falling back as he continued to lazily stroke his cock, “Fuck, I missed this.”

All Kid could do was whimper, it had been too long and he hadn’t been able to properly get off for a few days, still not used to using his non dominant hand to jerk off. The tension in his lower back was maddening as he fought to not move, knowing he’d come as soon as he did.

“K-Kil,” he all but whined, hand trying to get the older man to stop moving, “f-fuck, pull off, ‘m gonna-“

“Do it,” Killer purred as he started to bounce on Kid’s lap, the light slap of skin on skin fogging Kid’s mind further with lust, “want you to come inside, wanna feel you for days.”

“Fuck! Oh fuck,” his thighs shook and he snapped his hips up, eyes rolling as he came the hardest he had in months.

Killer panted, eyes blown wide with lust as he gazed down at Kid, cock hard and red with arousal. He seemed to take a moment to centre himself, and Kid couldn’t help but worry if he’d changed his mind about wanting his captain to finish inside. But instead of making a face as he lifted himself off Kid’s still hard length, Killer’s eyes focused on the workbench. The blonde got off the couch, a drop of cum running down a trembling inner thigh as he made his way to the table.The older man rummaged through a draw, letting out a huff as he pulled out a half empty tube of lube. Kid groaned and bit his lip as Killer began to lather up his own cock.

“My turn,” he said with a dark smile.

Kid whimpered, excitement coiling in his gut.

***

(Bonus)

Sweat stuck to his forehead, eyes fixed on nothing as he gazed up at the ceiling and he lightly rubbed his hand on Killer’s shoulder, heartbeat finally at a calm pace. The blonde hummed, nuzzling against his chest, body half draped over his, being careful to not put any of his weight on Kid’s injured side.

“Kid?” Killer finally broke the peaceful air with his soft, questioning tone.

Kid hummed to let the blonde know he’d heard, bringing his hand up to gently scratch the back of the man’s head.

“That sketch,” Killer nodded to his workbench, “is that gonna be your prosthetic?”

His chest swelled with pride as he smirked, “Yep, looks pretty awesome, doesn’t it.”

“…Does it…are those…cannons?”

Kid blinked, frowning, “Course, that’s why it’s awesome! Gonna be fully functional and everything.”

“There’s…four?” Killer’s said with a tone of disbelief, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Five,” he corrected, a smug smile spreading across his face, “gonna have the hand turn into the fifth.”

Above him, Killer began to tremble, shoulders shaking as he turned his head to bury his face in the back of the couch.

“Are you…” Kid’s hairless brow shot up, “oi! Bastard! Don’t laugh!”

Killer threw back his head and cackled, never ashamed to laugh when it was just in front of his captain. Kid’s face flushed and he bit his lip, as much as he hated it when people laughed at him, he never cared if it was Killer, the sound of full blown laughter so rare from the blonde that he’d get his head stuck in the ship’s railing if it meant hearing it. Blonde locks covered his chest as Killer pressed his forehead between his pecs.

After a couple more seconds the older man calmed down, lifting his head to grin at Kid, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before saying: “God I love you, you absolute dumbass.”

Now Kid’s face was beet red, “Sh-…shut up!”

#one piece #otp #kid x killer #kid/killer #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #kidd x reader #eustass kidd #line's self indulgent otp kinktober #my writing

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nerdyenby · 11 months

Text

Red time :D I’m watching Jojo

Pregame

Ollie freaking out that they’re supposed to change skins 😂

Mmm yes studying time

I am taking so many notes queen

What are Jojo’s teammates’ pronouns? She used they/them for Ollie but idk

Also heads up that I don’t know Spanish so I’m just gonna be smiling and nodding

J… my beloved

Ollie so proud of having done their homework :))

Kara doing her best, we stan (I know absolutely zero Spanish send help)

WHY SANDS EARLY???? 😭😭😭

Ok it makes sense since there are a lot of new people but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be happy about it /hj

They are the underdogs, I believe

Jojo being so proud of Ollie and how much they’ve studied <333

“Oh my god I love the emojis” I love Ollie ;-;

I want them to win so bad, you don’t get it

“We’re on the same team!!” “Not right now” I love Ollie and Jojo’s banter so much

Ollie talking about how they hope this could be the start of MCC including more Spanish streamers and being really excited to be part of the event being more open to other communities :)))

Oh my gosh mc ultimate, that was so long ago

We do a little bit of breathing, so true

Me not knowing a lick of Spanish but loving the energy :))

I only know like five words in Spanish so I’m just vibing and every now I’m then like “ah yes, bien means good”

It probably says something that listening to people talking in another language doesn’t even sound weird to me because of how hard APD goes, it just sounds like this to me sometimes even when I do know the language lmao

The “THIRTO YNE” in the sky 😂

Rocket Spleef

The excited/nervous energy on this team is so endearing, they’re all so happy to be here but also with a healthy coat of anxiety

Them all cheering Jojo on :))

That last minute elimination lol

THE MCC LORE!!! THEYRE LOOKING TO HIRE A NEW SKYWRITER CAUSE THEIR CURRENT ONE MESSED UP!!! I love MCC you guys

TGTTOSAWAF

Gonna be real, I was spaced the heck out during this game, Jojo did well tho!!

Parkour Warrior

So do we know what happened with Shadoune?

They’re a player down but they’re keeping morale up :))

Jojo’s ability to first try the wavy bridge thing is incredibly intimidating actually

She’s going for the hard ending!!

That checkerboard is breaking my brain but I kinda love it???

The STRESS

Ollie’s popping off tho

FIRST!!!! oh wait nevermind 😭😭😭

Parkour Tag

They’re popping off!!! They’re lasting so long so often!!

The way you can tell that they’re having so much fun now that they’ve found a groove :))

Capitan top 5!!!

“Chat, I was the nerf” Jojo 😂

Sylvee my beloved

What song even is this lol

OH it’s good for you, helps when you can actually hear the instrumental lmao

Holy crap Bad, I know he didn’t mean it but that is the most backhanded compliment in existence

Grid Runners

They’re doing well!!

That copy the sculpture was pain tho

It felt like they figured out the rod thing really quick

Meltdown

I’m so ready for them to pop off, you don’t understand

Jojo frantically switching to English when she gets frozen is way funnier to me than it should be

Ayyyy they won the first round :D

Nooooo them just running around a locked room is and falling into the lava together :((

Survival Games

Gonna be honest, the pov I have to read subtitles for probably isn’t the one I should be watching while drawing lol

They’re doing great though!! People are just dropping like flies and they’re killing it

They swept blue!!

YOOO first place with all surviving!!!

“Hispanic on top!!! Vamos!!” Hell yeah!!!

“The Spanish Inquisition” 😂😂😂

He doesn’t know where the sand goes 😭😭😭

Sands of Time

The “holã HBomb” in the chat <333

I believe in jojosolos sot supremacy

They all sound so stressed but that’s not really an indicator of how good it’s going in sands lol

It’s so funny to hear “oh my gosh” after 90% of the English words in this call have been “f*ck” or “ok” lol

It’s super possible indeed :)))

YEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

Dodgebolt

Them <333

Capitan 1v3!!

THEY WONN!!!!!!!

Jojo winning shot my beloved <3

MASSIVE DUB FOR SPANISH SPEAKERS EVERYWHERE!!!!

Jojo appreciation hour <333

THEY DIDNT EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE COIN 😭😭😭 “we get a prize?” I’m losing it

They’re so excited about the box <33

“I’m gonna propose to my girlfriend with that” OLLIE 😂

Ollie wanting to team with English streamers too :))

“I think Jojo- she doesn’t speak English, right?” “I don’t- no- I…” “No?” The absolute flub 😂

They’re so excited to come back :((((( I love them :(((

I love chill after calls :))

Captain/capitan team <333

#mcc 31 #mc championship #nerdy’s mcc reactions #jojosolos #shadoune #olliegamerz #capitangato #cw caps

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honeycuttross7 · 2 years

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Low-cost Replica Hermes Purses, Hermes Aaa Replica Purses

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tittyblade · 3 years

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tumblr etiquette 101

a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.

First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!

Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!

1) Your blog

This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!

Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.

Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]

Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.

You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.

Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.

Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.

Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.

2) Interacting with others

You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!

Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.

Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.

Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.

You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.

Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.

...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.

Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.

For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.

3) Your Posts

Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!

Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.

Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.

Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.

Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason.

Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)

Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.

@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.

4) Tags, and tagging a post

This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.

Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.

Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.

Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it.

If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.

Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.

Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved.

If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others.

Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol.

You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.

#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.

Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:

Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3

#mcyttwt #mcytblr #dream team #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #tumblr #how to tumblr #gonna tag ppl now so more users will see it lol #dreamwasteken #georgenotfound #karl jacobs #technoblade #sbi #twitter #twitter discourse #sbitwt #sleepytwt #sleepy bois inc #HOLY shit this took so long omg my back literally hurts rn #the fuckin lengths i go to make sure tumblr doesnt get tainted w twt LMAO #anyways if youre seeing this you should follow me look at how sexy i am i spent the last 2+ hours typing this goddamn list out #also: ignore how i literally sound like its 2014 at some parts here lol i tried my best #also ignore how wack the paragraph breaks are tumblrs formatting hates me and its 4 am im too tired for this #third also: some bits here are supposed to be ironic keep that in mind pls #rolan.txt #long post #save #yes im tagging my own post as save what about it

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space-dragon-ace · 2 years

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Wild and Free

Pairing: GN!Syren!Reader x Beidou Description: Beidou meets with her lover, who she can never tie to herself Word count: 794 Additional info: Got more angsty than I planned to. Sorry for that and any grammatical mistakes y/n = Your name; f/c = favorite color Tagging: @clouds-rambles

The sun was shining and the seagulls flew in the cloudless sky. The Alcor sat still on the ocean, Beidou allowing her crew some rest in the midday warmth. She was in her room, looking over some maps to decide the best route to take to hit all goals. Her thoughts were interrupted though, when something hit the window's glass, drawing her attention. Small rocks or shells seemed to hit it, and a smile came to Beidou's face. There was only one person who could do such a thing out in the open sea. She was up on her feet in a heartbeat and on deck a moment later. The newer crew members let out a horrified shriek as they saw their captain leap over the railing and hearing the splash as she hit water. One even wanted to jump after her, but was held back by Juza. „Easy there, she's fine“, he said, patting the young girl's back. „B-but she just jumped-“ „Yeah, I know“, he chuckled, looking to the ocean, „She's just meeting her lover.“

Beidou opened her eyes underwater, looking around. Yet she could not find the one she was searching, and her lungs demanded air. Had she only hallucinated? Had she longed for her beloved so much that her mind just imagined their signal? Her eyes stung, and it was not from the salt water around her. How embarrassing, to get so exited over nothing. A pair of arms wrapped around her suddenly, pulling her up and above the water. Beidou gasped for air, before she laughed and turned around. „(y/n) my beloved!“, she chuckled, hugging you tightly, „Don't scare me like that, I though I only imagined you calling for me!“ You chuckled, your tail splashing up some water. „I'm sorry my dear, I just wanted to tease you a little bit. You do it to me so often, I wanted to know if it really is this appealing~“, you apologized, kissing her nose. Beidou chuckled and shook her head, deciding to just hold you close.

„It's been so long since we last saw each other“, she mumbled against your gills. You nodded, laying back in the water. Not too far, so your girlfriend wouldn't have to move to avoid getting water in her face. But far enough so you could push the two of you through the water with your tail. „Too long, my dear. But it's not like we can just ignore out duties“, you bemoaned, earning a hum from Beidou. The fleet captain of Liyue and a royal guard among the merfolk, it was not easy to line up days you were off-duty with days she was on the sea. But still, you two made it work. You had met three years ago, by pure accident. A young child of your race had gotten entangled in a net, and when you cut her free, you were caught instead. The Crux had pulled you up, and all were shocked to see you in the net. You were different from anything they ever saw, the (f/c) scales on your tail shimmering in the sunlight. Claws on your fingers instead of nails, and something so otherworldly in your eyes that primal fear had filled the crew. Yet Beidou felt nothing like that. Instead, she was fascinated by you. Your appearance had reminded her of the wildest sea, something she could never tame, but would still meet head-on. Someone like you did not belong among humans, but should swim free. She had been the one to cut the net, releasing you back into the ocean. And while it was not required from you to thank her, you had done so anyway. You had brought her a stone, from the deepest point of the ocean you could reach. Firm and beautiful, elegance and deathly potential combined. Just like Beidou was in your eyes. You had found yourself drawn to the strange woman, and with time, your relationship had bloomed.

It was not your first, by far not. You were too old to never have had a relationship before. That was the thing that loomed over the two of you. Your difference was not only in appearance, but also in life-span. You would outlive Beidou by far, and while you had the potential to be her life, she would only be a chapter in yours. A syren like you forgot their loves soon after they died, only being able to remember the fact that they loved. Comparing you to the wild sea was not wrong, it was in you nature. Wild and free, something to never be tamed or controlled, never be tied down forever. But let all the future be damned, you would enjoy every second you had with Beidou.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x gn reader #beidou x reader

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gohyuck · 3 years

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pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno @domjaehyun @waithyuck for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day.

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong.

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage.

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned.

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur.

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye.

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up.

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer.

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple.

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be.

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe.

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together.

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal.

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response.

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either.

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now.

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is.

nobody is the warrior that jeno is.

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.”

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy.

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here.

he is real. he is here.

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights.

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips.

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin.

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one.

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that.

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face.

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips.

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours.

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy.

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach.

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body.

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own.

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body.

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way.

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you.

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it.

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded.

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that.

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him.

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing.

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath.

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care.

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours.

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed.

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe.

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want.

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need.

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?”

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want.

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper.

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced.

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again.

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet.

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full.

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want.

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly.

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately.

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.”

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit.

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer.

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows.

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan.

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side.

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware.

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does.

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops.

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind.

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment.

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love.

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

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lesbianakaashi · 3 years

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The Forgotten Shounen: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

This is not a “Why you should watch/read khr” or anything like that. This is just me going into the deep dive and throwing my findings at you. I’m making this because khr used to be my favourite series when I was 15 (I had plushees, posters, tradingcards, the art book etc) and now as an adult I constantly find myself baffled at how unknow it seems to be.

1. Okay first what is khr?

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or just Reborn! is a series by Akira Amano which was published in Weekly Shounen Jump from 2004 to 2012 (with 42 volumes) and got an anime adaption which run from 2006 to 2010 on Tv Tokyo (with 202 episodes and one OVA).

2. What’s it about?

Khr is a parody of the italian mafia and plays in a world where the mafia is heavily influencial. The protagonist is the japanese middle schooler Sawada Tsunayoshi who is known as “No good Tsuna” because of his failing grades, general weak and cowardly personality and weak physics.

He becomes aware of the mafia world when a 2 year old baby called Reborn arrives at his house claiming to be the greatest hitman and declaring himself his home tutor. Reborn was send by the 9th head of the Vongola famiglia who is ready to retire and looking for a new heir. Which of course, is supposed to be Tsuna and now it's Reborns job to shape him into a worthy sucessor.

Tsuna rejects the violence of the mafia world and refuses the position as the 10th. Thanks to Reborn and his general craziness Tsuna meets different people and starts to make real friendships. Reborn wants 6 of those friends to be Tsuna's future guardians, basically a group of people which will be closest to him in the vongola famiglia. Tsuna might have no interest in those positions but the friendships he builds with them become really precious to him.

Reborns arrivial also brings in the enemies of the Vongola family which leads to Tsuna being forced to engage in battles. Generally Tsuna openly avoids fights and prefers to run away but will put himself in danger for his friends' sake or because of something Reborn did.

Through out the series Tsuna matures and gains strenght but he never becomes a power fantasy. He's just a guy with many flaws who grows through the human connections he makes.

Personally I think the relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is one of the best student teacher reltaionships in all of manga only topped by Mob and Reigen from Mob Psycho 100. Especially the last arc really underlines their unique relationship to me.

Furthermore, khr offers a new and unique battle system: The flames. I'm not gonna go into to too much detail but the general idea is that one fights with their dying will flame which basically turns off your the savety switch so you can fight with everything you have. The flames are seperated into different categories such as: sky, storm, mist, rain, sun, lightning and cloud and have different attributes asigned to each one. Tsuna's use of the sky flame and his transformation when using it is still one of my favourite shounen transformations to this day.

3. What happened?

The series did really well and then not so well over the course of its serialisation. After the manga got an anime adaption it increased in populairty and video games, light novels, and other products such as CDs were created based on the series. Reborn is one of the best selling series of Weekly Shōnen Jump and has sold around 30 Million volumes overall. It was and still is very popular in Japan but rather unknown in the west.

According to the article "The Rise and Fall of Weekly Shonen Jump: A Look at the Circulation of Weekly Jump" khr was the 10th bestselling series in Weekly Shōnen Jump, with a total of 7 million copies sold in 2007.

This number increasing to 15 milion in 2008. Which placed khr into the 4th best selling series of 2008 in Japan.

Between 2008 and 2010 those sales declined but still kept strong with khr as the 6th top selling manga in 2009, 8th best selling in 2010 and then 24th best selling in 2012.

In November 2014, readers of the Da Vinci magazine voted khr number 17 on a list of Weekly Shōnen Jump's greatest manga series of all time.

After the anime came to an apprupt stop in 2010 for unknown reasons the manga sells took a visible hit. (Apparently the studio wanted to put the anime on halt because they were busy with other projects and give Akira Amano time to develop her story but I couldn't find any source for this claim) Furthermore, the rushed last chapters of the manga in 2012 declined the popularity of the series even more. There's no offical statement as to why the manga was ended in such a way but it's reasonable to assume that Jump either cut it considering the decreasing sales or Akira Amano choose to end it for personal reasons.

Nontheless, Tsuna not being included in Jump Force (a fighting game where you can play as different characters from Jump) in 2019 even tho he made it in earlier Jump Stars games also underlines the decreased interest in the series.

Rumors on a reboot or anime adaption of the last two arcs surface from time to time but are genereally unlikely. Artland the studio which made khr has gone bankrupt around 2015-2016. It might be taken on by another studio but rather uncommen especially with such an old series.

4. Art style

The khr anime ended over 10 years ago and the old art style might not be appealing to newer audiences.

Especailly because the anime adaption follows Akira Amanos old art style which heavily developed within the years. Here a picture comparing characters in the new art style:

A modern anime adaption in the new art style would be aesthetically pleasing. It would probably look similiar to Psycho Pass since Akira Amano did the concept art for this series.

(My personal art student hot take is that both art styles are unique and fun. Up to this day Akira Amano still has my favourite art style and even if the amount folds in the characters clothing is a little extreme I love it dearly.)

5. Criticism

The show is not without flaws and even if I greatly enjoy it it wouldn't be right not to adress them.

Daily Life Arc:

A lot of people view the first 20 to 25 episodes as fillers and quickly lose intererst in the series. This is due to the fact that Akira Amano inteded the series to be a gag manga and focuses the first chapters on world building, character introduction and comical narratives. It's rumored that the decision to develop the story into a battle shounen was made because the sales weren't doing well enough at first. So the first chapters/episodes may seem titidious but are necessary for the story and the development of the characters. The tonal shift from a more gintama like gag manga to a darker battle focused story can also be offputting to some viewers.

Either way a lot of people blame this arc when discussing why khr never got an english dub or didn't end up on Toonami. I've also read that the manga never finished serializing in the north america. However, it finished in other western languages like german and spanish.

Censoring:

The anime censors A LOT. From Gokudera's smoking habit, Yamamoto's whole character arc which deals with heavy themes such as depression and suicidal thoughts. The general bloodiness of the manga was censored and sometimes whole chapters and characters were left out even if those were important to the devolopment of others.

Filler episodes:

Out of the 202 episodes the anime has around 29 filler episodes which makes roughly 14 %.

Sexism:

Even if Reborn was written by a woman most female characters are rather flat and their storylines often tied to a male character in one way or another.

Genereal things:

Khr, like many other long running series, is sometimes criticised for a lack of world building or unpopular narrative choices.

6. Hope?

Khr isn't exactly dead. As stated before the series is still very popular in Japan and still gets new merch pretty regulary. There are also petitions floating around for a reboot or a new anime season but those never get a lot of traction. Furthermore #Reborn2期アニメ化 (#Reborn2ndAnimation) used to get some traction on twitter not too long ago. Last year the Anime News Network did a poll on which anime the readers would like to see a rebooot of and khr placed second.

Either way here's a collection of recent khr things I could find.

- In 2018 a new bluray set was released in north america

- The khr stage play reached yet another new season

- A mobile game was released last year

- Currently ongoing anime cafe event called "Concerto di Vongola"

- Last month there was an event with the former VAs and stage play actors where they discussed their favourite khr episodes.

- There has been an increase in blind reacts to the openings on youtube which might bring in a new fan base. The biggest one I could find had around 90k views and was made in 2019. On this note check out the soundtrack. The first openeing Drawing Days by SPLAY still makes me go insane (but I'm biased of course)

There also renewed hope for a new season/reboot because Shaman King, Inuyasha and Bleach got anounced for new seasons after a long hiatus. It's important to keep in mind that the circumstances for those series are differnt tho. For example bleachs new anime is often tied to the immense success of the gatcha game.

7. Conclusion

Khr is a series which used to be a flagship for Weekly Shounen Jump and is deeply beloved by it's fans, especially in Japan. It influenced other shounen series like bnha. It would be nice to see it gaining a bigger fanbase in the west :)

#khr #khr meta #anime analysis #shounen jump #katekyo hitman reborn #mirytalks #long post #manga

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polnareffenjoyer · 3 years

Note

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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craomy · 3 years

Text

Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Fluff/Agnst)

Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Agnst)

AN: This is just a little bit of a story idea of what I can imagine for Albedo and with the traveler. This is one of my first times doing something like this and I hope that you’ll enjoy it :)

-=+=-

“Cecilia. A beautiful flower with a name that suits its appearance. It only grows where harsh winds blow, and is just as intangible as the true heart of an unbound soul.” Albedo had held a seedling towards the traveler, (Y/N). She stared carefully in bewilderment as the young alchemist had clenched his fist. A soft glowing light had radiated from his grasp as he slowly opened his hand, revealing an elegant flower that had blossomed from his chalk. The traveler watched in awe when looking at Albedo’s little performance.

(Y/N) was the one to encourage Albedo to take up alchemy from his Master. She’s glad that she was able to give Albedo a push into the direction that his Master would have wanted him to go. Now that he’s been studying and grasping a better understanding of The Art of Khemia, (Y/N) would be the one to listen in on Albedo’s rambles of new concepts of things that would be hard to understand for any ordinary person. Albedo had genuinely enjoyed her company, but he could also feel something else in his chest.

It was a warm feeling. Something that would give him enough energy to stay up countless nights just spending time with the young girl. He couldn’t quite put it into words of what this feeling meant, but Albedo knew that he must hold onto it as long as he can.

Albedo looked back up into (Y/N)’s (E/C) eyes and couldn’t help but appreciate how they glistened underneath the moonlight. Without thinking, Albedo had tucked the Cecilia behind the girl’s ear. “It’s so... heavenly,” The ashy light blonde haired boy had whispered under his breath, too captivated to realize he was staring too long. (Y/N) blushed, hoping that her ears had heard correctly. Seeing her blush had made him grow red, retracting his hand that once traced her cheek, “I-I meant the flower. C-Cecilia’s can also mean heavenly!” the boy had flushed timidly.

He doesn’t usually get embarrassed, but lately, he’s been acting differently towards his beloved friend. (Y/N) had let out her laughter. Seeing his reaction towards her had made her realize how blessed she was to be able to meet such an extraordinary person. Albedo hid behind his sketchbook to hide his face from the (H/C) haired girl to prevent himself from feeling any more embarrassed. After all, they both were just two young kids that could see what others couldn’t see.

(Y/N) had lowered Albedo’s sketchbook to meet his bright teal eyes. He timidly stared back at his friend, his words stuck in his throat with his heart hammering against his chest. She closed the distance between both of them and had placed a soft kiss against Albedo’s forehead.

“Whatever you say, my Chalk Prince.” she caught him off guard with a peck on the head. It took a few seconds for Albedo to register what she had done. As a sign of requited feelings towards each other, he had dropped his sketch onto the soft grass of Starsnatch Cliff. He entwined one hand with (Y/N)’s while the other had been placed behind (Y/N)’s head. Both of them smiled beneath the starry night sky of Mondstadt.

“(Y/N). I don’t understand what you’re doing to me. I lack the knowledge to fully express my feelings towards you. Out of all of the people I’ve ever met, you’ve been the only one that could pique my interest... I don’t ever want to lose you.” Albedo had confessed as he closely watched (Y/N)’s beautiful features. She had let go of his hands and grinned, wrapping her arms around the studious boy. She was delighted. So excited that she had pushed Albedo against the soft grass of the cliffs.

This enchanting atmosphere was enough for Albedo. This is all he could ever ask for. (Y/N) was the perfect person to help him pursue his future career and dreams.

(Y/N)’s laughter filled Albedo’s ears as he put a hand on her back to push her closer to his chest. Holding her against his heartbeat was a brave move, even for him to do. Choosing Starsnatch Cliff as a drawing location was the best option for both of them to enjoy each other’s company.

Young love beneath the captivating moon. There was nothing more to it than two soulmates basking in each other’s presence. Two crystal butterflies fluttered over the both of them, perhaps a symbol of the both of them.

Right now the only thing Albedo could think of was her.

(Y/N).

He studied her (E/C) eyes, so allured, so caught up in the moment. Laying on the patch of grass, he readjusted the Cecilia flower in her hair. She was perfect.

“(Y/N). I want to let you know that I...” he paused.

Albedo noticed twinkling stars that glittered in the sky. Comets and shootings stars had flown over their heads. (Y/N) looked up from Albedo and watched in awe. It wasn’t often that you would see such a sight.

“We should make a wish together.” Albedo had seen how she watched in wonder. That’s right. You two came out here to make a wish.

The traveler had grinned, laying her head back down against the young man’s chest. “If that’s the case then I wish for you to accept the position of Chief Alchemist!” she had said so proudly. He softly chuckled, “You don’t have to use your wish on me for me to do that. I want you to be happy with your wish, (Y/N).” he murmured.

“But it’s true. I think that wish alone will make me happy enough.” (Y/N) spoke confidently. The ash blonde alchemist felt it again. He felt his heart beating faster again. How was it that she could only think about his well being?

“What about you, Albedo? What do you wish for?” she asked with curiosity.

Albedo blinked.

He didn’t know if he had the courage to say it out loud. He gulped, feeling her gaze to be too much for him to handle. “If you’re wishing for me, then I suppose that I have no other option but to also wish for your happiness.” He shyly muttered.

(Y/N) couldn’t stop smiling.

She wished that this moment could last forever.

With that, both of them had embraced each other in this pure moment.

Albedo reached up in the air once again while holding the (H/C) haired girl in his arms. “The universe is the dark essence of the true starry sky, and the earth is the accumulated memories of time and lives. You’ve helped me come along this journey of mine to realize that I shouldn’t keep my distance from everyone anymore,” he spoke.

“You carry the aura of the stars. More beautiful than any other view there is, the liveliest flower in Teyvat, and the greatest thing birthed from chalk. Your serenity is quite enchanting and your laughter is music to my ears, I wouldn’t know what to do if I couldn’t hear it every day. Nothing can compare to you in the universe.” Albedo confessed with sincerity that tugged his heart.

(Y/N) couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else in the world. Albedo’s charm is what lured the young girl in the most. His search for knowledge and interest in his research is unparalleled to any other.

He sat up, holding dearly onto (Y/N)’s smaller hands.

“In other words, this is my declaration of... love. It’s all so foreign to me so I’d appreciate it if you’re patient with me.” He bashfully told the girl how he felt. (Y/N) smirked, “If that’s how you truly feel, then I’d like you to tell me the special eight letters, three words.” she teased, seeing Albedo’s blush intensify.

Albedo slowly closed the distance between the girl.

“Then if that’s the case...”

“I...”

“I love you.”

Is what Albedo would have said.

Eyes fluttering open, he began to panic in the middle of his bed. Losing the warmth and presence of (Y/N), he came to the realization that...

(Y/N) was no longer there.

Reminiscing in his dreams would brighten his memories of his lover.

That’s right.

He still can’t stop lingering from the past.

Albedo sat up from his bed, the dream feeling too surreal for him to comprehend. (Y/N)’s melodic laughter couldn’t be heard anymore. The vivid dreams he’s been having of the young (H/C) haired girl has been too much for him to handle.

“I have to go back to conducting my research. It’s what (Y/N) would have wanted.” Albedo had to remind himself out loud. If he doesn’t then he would continue to coop himself up in his bed trying to recollect the memories of (Y/N)’s lovely scent.

He slowly got up from his bed and sluggishly walked towards his desk. On his way to his chair, he knocked down a pile of sketchbooks across the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, he began to focus on the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Yes. I have to continue writing this report.” He muttered, all slumped over as he grabbed his pen. The Cecilia flowers on his desk had withered long before he could realize it on his own. Time had seemed to fly past due to his grieving.

At first, it was very... difficult.

(Y/N) never seemed like the type of person to get sick very often. She was always brave and outgoing in the lands of Mondstadt. With her adventurous ambitions, you would think that she had no weaknesses. Of course, that’s what she would show to the others on the outside. Nobody else could know about her illness. The only one she could tell of her little secret was no one other than the Chief Alchemist, her beloved.

Yet, this was the beginning of a burden. Although Albedo enjoyed discovering the truth of the world and jumping into the unknown of unknowns, this was certainly a predicament that stuck a thorn in his thumb. Albedo was able to research and identify nearly any conflict within his path as an alchemist while utilizing his knowledge of what he knew from his Master. There was no way that he wouldn’t be able to find out a cure for her illness, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Albedo snapped out of his thoughts.

Coming back to his senses, it appears that he had unconsciously drawn... her.

Again.

A perfectly sketched portrait of (Y/N). It looked like an exact replica of what (Y/N) had once looked like. Yet again, Albedo knew that nothing else would compare to her beauty. He winced, finding it difficult to rip up the paper that had depicted (Y/N)’s soft features that used to grin back at him. Frustrated, he threw everything off of his desk. All of his testing tubes and glass graduated cylinders had shattered against the cold floor.

Nothing.

None of the drawings he had could compare to her.

No matter how hard he tried to perfectly sketch her entirety, it just wasn’t enough. Albedo couldn’t find any other way to let go of his (Y/N). How else can he get rid of these aching feelings in his chest? Wasn’t he supposed to be the most talented alchemist and a natural-born genius? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to always find a way to get her out of her troubles? Just why in the world did the Archons curse him to lose one of the things that could bring him hope?

Albedo slammed his fist against one of the portraits, accidentally tearing the paper itself. His tantrum stopped as he took a look at what he had done.

There it was.

(Y/N)’s flower had been scratched out of the painting. The beautiful Cecilia flower that Albedo had once placed behind her ear while he cherished her dearly.

He dropped to his knees in defeat.

“Why..? Why did you have to leave me, (Y/N)?” He whispered in distraught. He could feel a lump in his throat as he clenched his fists, “No... I shouldn’t be blaming you for your passing. It is all but my fault for being incompetent.” his voice was saddening. This bitter taste of love was all he had left of (Y/N).

He could no longer look at his paintings and sketches the same now that she was no longer with him. Melancholy was a word that could not measure how much he had missed her. Looking up at the stars can only bring him the painful memory of when he had professed his love to her. Walking through the field of Cecilias can only remind him of how much he had missed what it was like to hold her hand and kiss her on the forehead. The times he stayed up to continue doing his research with (Y/N) on his side would remind him that things will never be the same because she’s gone.

Perhaps his grief has gotten the best of him.

He looked at all of the scattered pages that were ripped out of his notebook. All of the pages had perfect drawings of (Y/N) in her natural state. The bags under Albedo’s teal blue eyes were enough to show anyone how much he stayed up thinking about her.

Albedo walked up to a large canvas that was carefully painted and crafted to be almost flawless. (Y/N)’s body fit the painting and looked as if she could come to life.

It didn’t matter if Albedo broke the natural laws of life.

All he wanted to do was see (Y/N)’s smile once again.

Albedo gripped the portrait in front of him desperately.

If all fails, he’ll just continue to try again.

And again.

That’s what it takes to be an alchemist. It’s all trial and error. Albedo couldn’t leave any more room for doubt. He has to continue persisting to look for her fleeting love. He will face any consequence in order to get her back safely in his arms. He’ll obstruct and rip apart any law of alchemy to even receive another affectionate, “I love you”. He is the only person to understand her weakness, and he continues to walk the path of life to have her as his strength. His azure eyes widened with determination, a surge of light glowing from his hands.

He will continue saying this.

Again.

“Arise, lifeless dust of the universe and that within. Thou art reborn.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #albedo #genshin impact albedo #albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #reader insert #genshin impact x rea #genshin impact reader #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #albedo chief alchemist #albedo mondstadt #genshin impact albedo x reader

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taephilia · 3 years

Text

runaway

pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader (feat. best friend jung hoseok)

genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, royalty au, enemies to something more? au

word count: 1,788

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, betrayal, alcohol consumption, profanity

a/n: for @heartsforbtsnet’s valentine’s day secret admirer’s event! this is dedicated to @pjmsdior because i’m her secret admirer hehe. sorry it’s so short, bella, but i’m slowly working on the original fic that i had planned for you so hopefully that’ll be out soon. i really loved talking to you and i’ll definitely be dropping by your inbox more often!! hope you enjoy!!

“Dear, at least try to look like you’re having fun,” your mother chastises you, poking at your back to get you to stand up straight. “This ball is for you, you know.”

“To announce my engagement to that buffoon of a prince,” you mutter while subtly rolling your eyes. They land on said buffoon who is currently chatting up a group of female courtiers, all of them in dresses that don’t leave much to the imagination paired with smiles and body language that suggest something a bit more sinister. The prince eats all of this up of course, giving them his most charismatic smile before it disappears behind the rim of the wine glass held delicately between his slender fingers.

For as long as you’ve known Taehyung, he has always had that same smile on his face, knowing that it will get him anything he wants and out of any sort of trouble he seems to have found himself in. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen him drink almost 3 days away, a third of his castle’s cellar demolished because of him. He’s missed out on council meetings, celebrations, royal announcements, appearances, and everything in between and nobody bats an eye. To them, His Royal Highness Kim Taehyung is the picture perfect prince. But you know better. You know that underneath that facade, underneath the mask and the costume that he puts on every day and night, you know just how cruel Taehyung can be. The scars on your best friend’s back and the feelings of powerlessness that you have to push down every single time you see him are a constant reminder.

Your eyes roam over to Hoseok who is standing with his back against the wall, eyes scanning over the entire ballroom until they meet yours. The hand gripping the handle of his sword relaxes before being raised up to wave at you. Beside him, his captain smacks him lightly on his side while shaking his head and even though you’re far away, you can practically hear Captain Namjoon’s quiet scolding to your best friend about not letting his guard down. Hobi nods along to whatever his captain is saying but you know that he isn’t listening since he’s heard the lecture from him practically every time the two of you are in the same room.

“How about a dance, love,” someone calls out to you and you look away to find none other than your soon-to-be-announced fiancé standing before you. His hand is stretched out towards you and although Taehyung looks like the picture of chivalry, the smirk on his face and teasing light in his eyes suggest otherwise.

Your mother all but shoves you towards him and you have to fight the scowl that threatens to appear on your face the second you get within a foot of the prince. You place your hand in his and allow him to lead you to the dance floor, the slower song that was being played ending and giving way to a more lively waltz. Your other hand goes to his shoulder while his goes to your hip. As you begin dancing, you push his hand up to your waist with a pointed look while Taehyung just gives you an innocent smile.

“What?” he asks, head tilting a bit to the side. “Can’t get a little handsy with my fiancée? Or are you worried that your little boyfriend’s going to have a fit over there?”

Your eyebrows draw together at that. “Boyfriend?” you repeat. “What are you talking about?”

“That knight standing at the wall over there,” Taehyung replies, chin jutting out in the direction of Hoseok. “What’s his name? Hongjoong? You were practically eye fucking him before I asked you to dance.”

At that, your arms almost drop and your feet almost stop carrying you but Taehyung’s grip on you tightens and he practically drags you around like a ragdoll in the middle of the dance floor. “We were not-! Hoseok is my best friend,” you sputter out, looking at him incredulously while he just smiles down at you.

Taehyung shrugs without a word and spins you around, but when he turns you to face him once more, he’s no longer there. In fact, there’s no one around you at all. You stand alone on the dance floor, a single spotlight on you, and the sight in front of you makes your blood freeze in your veins. Your mother has thrown her body over your father’s, blood covering her dress while she screams and begs for him to wake up. Beside her, Taehyung’s father looks out at the dance floor with fear in his eyes as they meet yours. You’re torn between running up there and running away, but even if you were to make a decision, you don’t think your feet would be able to move anyways. So you’re stuck watching in horror as Hoseok steps out of the shadows from behind your parents with his face hardened and a look in his eyes that’s unfamiliar to you.

The blood rushing in your ears is so loud that you can barely make out what he’s saying and even though you’re alone, there’s someone crying near you, Hoseok’s voice much quieter compared to theirs. The tremble in his voice matches the trembling of his hand as he draws his sword and faces the queen. “We no longer see the royal family as fit to rule our kingdom. We, the citizens, cannot stand to see you merging our beloved home with theirs, which many of us have escaped from during the war. You took us into your home, we swore loyalty to you, and now you expect me to forget the horrors I saw in the Hangsang kingdom?”

You hear a whimper and it’s only then that you realize it’s you that’s crying. You don’t fail to notice that Hoseok said “me” instead of “we”. Regardless of who suggested this coup, Hoseok has made it personal. His captain steps out of the shadows from behind Taehyung’s father and together they raise their swords and cut down both your mother and Taehyung’s father. A scream leaves your lips as you watch their bodies drop and a voice whispers in your ear, “Run.”

You’re gasping for air and you can feel your body shaking when you open your eyes but when you see Taehyung above you, you realize that he’s the one shaking you. “Finally,” he sighs as he stops, his hands lingering. “I was worried someone was going to come in here with you screaming bloody murder like that.”

When you sit up, it takes you a moment to realize where you are. Taehyung moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands leaving you, and you almost reach out to stop him as the chill in the air quickly settles over you. The room of the inn is small, housing only a bed that’s definitely too small for two people to sleep on and a dirty mirror hanging beside the door. What little of your belongings that you and Taehyung could bring or buy along the way are shoved in a corner and even with the full moon out tonight, the soot and grime covering the windows blocks out most of its light. When you look over at Taehyung, the bags under his eyes are most notable along with the stubble on his face. You’ve only been on the run for about a month now but you know that you look just as haggard and worn down as he does.

“Was it the same dream?” the prince asks, voice soft as he rubs at the scratchy fabric of the blanket between his fingers.

You rest your chin on one of your knees and wrap your arms around your legs. You’re still shaken and can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. “Isn’t it always?”

The two of you sit there in silence for a bit before you let out a huff and drag yourself out of the bed, taking the blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “I’m going outside for a bit.”

You know that you should stay inside, it’s safer especially with the amount of drunks that are probably still lingering in the inn’s tavern, but the silence is starting to feel a bit suffocating. No one pays you any notice as you walk down the stairs and out the door, the street quiet save for the occasional passerby. Leaning against the wall, you take a deep breath and allow the memories of the past few weeks to wash over you. It’s still hard for you to accept and you catch yourself having to do this more often than you’d like.

My best friend murdered my parents and my in-laws. Scenes of blood and swinging swords flash through your mind and you quickly shake your head. You don’t want to see that.

I’m on the run with the crown prince of Hangsang because people are trying to kill us. The weight of Taehyung’s hand in yours is something you’ve become all too familiar with, his long legs and fast stride always able to get the two of you out of whatever sort of trouble finds you nowadays. And out of everything that’s happened, from almost getting killed to stealing from markets, you think you’re most worried about the fact that you find comfort in Taehyung’s warmth now. You aren’t supposed to feel like this. He isn’t supposed to make your heart beat just a tiny bit faster whenever he smiles at you.

Taehyung isn’t as bad as I thought he-

“Come back to bed.”

Soft fingers trailing down your forearm bring you out of your thoughts and you know that the person standing beside you can’t be anyone other than the prince. Just as you have begrudgingly found comfort in him, he has also found solace in you. You don’t recoil when you feel his hand grip yours ever so gently, allowing him to do what he wants while he looks at you and you look up at the moon.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” you mumble. Your eyes don’t leave the sky but you squeeze his hand, letting him know that he has your attention all the same. “I’ve stared at the moon for my entire life, ever since I was a little girl, but it feels different now. Everything feels different now.”

“The moon has always been beautiful,” is all Taehyung says. And that’s enough—enough to draw your attention to him, enough to follow him back to your shared room, and enough to let him sleep beside you tonight, if just for this one night.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 6 -

- Ao3 link -

The jade pendant Lan Qiren had worked so hard on had not stopped burning painfully hot since what he now knew was the day Jiwei had been shattered. It retroactively made perfect sense why his music could do nothing to calm the flames no matter how soothing; the pendant was so hot as to be dangerous even to him, a cultivator in his prime – even if not the most martially inclined – and in all honesty he had not dared to wear it since that day.

Despite this, he hung it on his belt before leaving the Cloud Recesses, ignoring the discomfort.

If Lao Nie did not recognize his sons, which he prized more than the stars in the sky, more than his own life, he would not recognize Lan Qiren no matter how good friends they were. Lan Qiren knew better than to flatter himself in that way. He was confident in Lao Nie’s affection, in his trust and even his love; he had never once doubted that when given a choice, Lao Nie would pick him over Wen Ruohan every time, no matter how often the latter shared Lao Nie’s bed – but Lao Nie was not himself right now, incapable of making rational decisions.

Lao Nie had raised his own hand against those he loved, something he would in the normal course of events never do. Lan Qiren would likely share the same fate as Nie Mingjue, only with even less power to defend himself – he had only music and wise words and inferior swordsmanship on his side, and of those, only his music had even half a chance of stopping a maddened charge.

He would need every advantage he could get, and the jade pendant, he hoped, would provide one.

Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses with his guqin over his back, his sword beneath his feet, and the jade pendant burning into his thigh, Nie Mingjue at his side. He hoped that Lao Nie might be able to draw some comfort from the jade pendant, which had been tuned to Jiwei’s frequency; he hoped that he could calm Lao Nie’s wrecked mind with his playing the way he had once sought to calm Jiwei’s rage.

And if neither of those worked…there was still his sword.

To the best of his ability, he would not allow Nie Mingjue to be harmed.

Lao Nie would have agreed, if he could.

When they arrived at the Unclean Realm, both Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue were exhausted from their trip; even with regular breaks, it was not an easy journey to make by sword, much less twice over, with several days or even a week or more of travel being more customary. Lan Qiren had insisted that they rest for a few shichen in a town just outside of the borders of the Qinghe Nie sect to recover even more of their strength, and tellingly Nie Mingjue had not disagreed.

The Unclean Realm towered over them both as they approached, and to Lan Qiren’s eyes it somehow seemed more intimidating and imposing than that familiar, beloved place usually was – it was as if the tragedy within its walls had tainted it, giving it a more sinister aura than usual.

The guards of the Nie sect were unhappy to see Lan Qiren, as he’d suspected they would be, but they could not override Nie Mingjue, who ordered them to let Lan Qiren enter. A Nie disciple, older even than Lan Qiren but with exhaustion and fear written into every line of him, met them by the entrance, telling them that the Sect Leader was in his study – and that he was asking for them, or at least for Nie Mingjue.

“How is he?” Nie Mingjue asked, and glanced sidelong at Lan Qiren, explaining, “There are times when it is worse, times when it is better and he’s almost himself…”

“Forgive this humble one,” the disciple said, sounding tired. “The Sect Leader’s state is not good. He believes himself to be surrounded by enemies, besieged and betrayed. He believes we have taken you away from him purposefully, Nie-gongzi, and he fears for your well-being.”

Nie Mingjue’s face crumpled. “And when he sees me, he’ll think I’m one of the ones hurting him.”

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren told him in an undertone as they walked towards to the study. “He’s been infected with the saber spirit’s rage, becoming unbalanced – not just unbalanced, but unable to find himself. Just like a saber, he sees everything around him as a target, and seeks their destruction.”

Nie Mingjue’s head dropped in a nod. “Baxia’s just the same. She longs to eradicate evil, but her definition of evil is – wider than it should be.”

“We are all made of good and evil,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Right now, Lao Nie can only see the evil, not the good. That’s why he can’t recognize you. He loves you too much.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again and stopped in front of the study, taking a deep breath. Even through its soundproofed doors, they could hear the faint echoes of Lao Nie’s voice, bellowing out demands and threats, calling for Nie Mingjue, calling for Jiwei – my saber, my saber, where is my saber? – and Lan Qiren flinched briefly before recovering himself.

“Go,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened the door and let them both step in.

Lao Nie was standing by the window, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles bloody from having beaten his fists against the walls in his rage. His back was straight and his shoulders broad, as always, but there was a strange purposelessness to the way his head turned from side to side as if he were trying to hear something just out of range.

He turned to look at them. His hair wasn’t arranged properly, oily as if he hadn’t washed it for a while; his eyes were red and bloodshot, his skin flushed and ruddy, raised veins on his forehead, making him look as if he were on the verge of exploding.

“What do you want?” he spat.

“You called for me, A-die,” Nie Mingjue said, taking a step into the room and then another as Lan Qiren watched. “It’s me – it’s me, it’s Mingjue. A-Jue, I’m A-Jue –”

Lan Qiren never saw Lao Nie move.

One moment he was all the way across the room, the next moment he was standing right in front of Nie Mingjue. There was the resounding echo of a slap: Lao Nie had backhanded Nie Mingjue, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, his reddened eyes blank and unseeing. “If you’re my A-Jue, why haven’t you done what I asked, like a filial son should? Bring me my saber! Bring me my Jiwei!”

“A-die – please – she’s gone, Jiwei is gone –”

Lao Nie raised his hand again, clearly ready to strike again, already pulling his leg back to kick at the young man cowering at his feet, a red mark already staining Nie Mingjue’s cheek where the heavy blow from before had fallen – Lan Qiren hadn’t been in the Unclean Realm for enough time to burn a stick of incense, hadn’t even had a chance to say anything, and things had already gotten to this point.

Wait, the doctors had said to Nie Mingjue when he’d asked them what could be done about his father’s illness. Wait. How terrible would Nie Mingjue’s life have become if he had listened to them?

“Lao Nie,” he said, stepping into the room and already reaching for his guqin. “Don’t hit him.”

Lao Nie turned to him, a heavy scowl on his face, and Lan Qiren braced himself for that same speed, that same casual viciousness that Lao Nie had before used only on his real enemies.

But unexpectedly - Lao Nie did not attack.

He didn’t move at all, in fact; he just stared at Lan Qiren, his frown fading into something like confusion.

“Jiwei?” he asked, a glimmer of recognition in his voice.

Lan Qiren’s hands were on his guqin strings, a spell at the ready, but he paused at Lao Nie’s words.

Very cautiously, he shifted the guqin to the side to free up one hand, which he lowered to the jade pendant that hung at his waist. “Yes,” he said encouragingly. “It’s Jiwei’s pendant. You remember? I made it for you, to drain off some of her anger. It’s yours. I brought it to you.”

Lao Nie took a stumbling step forward, and then another, his lost eyes brightening in happiness. Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and tolerated the pain of the fiercely burning pendant, taking it into his palm and holding it out to Lao Nie as an offering.

But it wasn’t the pendant that Lao Nie reached out for, but Lan Qiren himself.

His broad hands fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulders, and then slid up to cradle his face, his thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones in an unfamiliar gesture that made Lan Qiren shiver despite himself.

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie said, sounding pleased. “Jiwei, where were you? I missed you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed. “Lao Nie…”

“You look so different,” Lao Nie said, undeterred by Lan Qiren’s barely-said protest – undeterred, in fact, by the fact that Lan Qiren was a human being, not a saber spirit.

His hands were warm against Lan Qiren’s face.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said, very slowly, and after a moment Lao Nie responded, no longer surveying him with his eyes but meeting his gaze. “I am Lan Qiren, your friend.”

“My friend,” Lao Nie agreed, and smiled. It was his old familiar smile, confident and carefree. “Jiwei.”

“No, not Jiwei. Jiwei…Jiwei shattered, Lao Nie. Your saber shattered.”

“Yes,” Lao Nie said, very unexpectedly, and Nie Mingjue, who had gotten up and was cautiously creeping closer, looked at him with hope shining in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“You know your saber was shattered?” Lan Qiren said, testing, and Lao Nie nodded. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie tilted his head to the side.

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think – when he patted it? He did something, I’m sure of it.”

Lao Nie considered this statement, his eyes half-lidded in thought; he looked for a moment very much like he had before, putting aside the state of his hair and clothing. “I think you’re right,” he said after a while. “A-Han was very angry at me, at the start, and then at the end he was still angry, but also pleased with himself in that way that he gets. You know what I mean: when he’s done something vile, something everyone would condemn him for, and he knows no one will be able to do anything about it – the way he’s both pleased with the demonstration of his power and disgusted in himself, and he has to bury the latter in the former to make himself feel better.”

You know what he’s like, why do you like him? Lan Qiren thought to himself but did not say, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t so tactful and asked the same thing, virtually verbatim, outright.

“Grown-ups are complicated, A-Jue,” Lao Nie told him, and Nie Mingjue’s knees gave out at once. He tumbled down to the floor once again, landing on his ass with a thud, and stared up at his father with tears already spilling down his cheeks.

“A-die?” he whispered. “A-die, you know me?”

Lao Nie frowned, not understanding his son’s reaction, and pulled away to turn to look at him – but the moment his hands left Lan Qiren’s skin, the look in his eyes changed, the clarity disappearing and the rage returning. His brow furrowed in confusion and offense, and Lan Qiren thought about how it must appear to him: his beloved son was there only a moment ago, and then he turned and there was a stranger there instead, taking his place. It was no wonder that Lao Nie lashed out so fiercely, no wonder that his anger burned hottest against those he loved the most.

Lan Qiren stepped forward and put his own hand on Lao Nie’s shoulder, and when that didn’t seem to help, his face, instinctively following his teacher’s habits and grabbing him by the ear like a disobedient student in need of some shaking.

“Lao Nie, calm yourself,” he ordered, ignoring the lack of calm in his own heart.

Amazingly, miraculously, Lao Nie did. The red even started to fade a little out of his eyes – they were still bloodshot, still covered in a thin red film, but he no longer looked as though he were on the verge of crying blood. The ruddiness in his face faded as well, the blood summoned up by his rage starting to recirculate throughout his body as it should, and hopefully no longer on the verge of giving him an aneurysm.

Progress, Lan Qiren thought.

“What’s going on?” Lao Nie asked, alert and aware, if confused. “Why is my study such a mess? A-Jue, why are you crying? What happened to you – A-Jue, look at you, you look terrible! Who hurt you? Who dared touch you?”

Nie Mingjue was crying too hard to speak now, shaking his head, refusing to speak.

“You tell me, then,” Lao Nie said, turning his face, belligerent again but so much more normally so, to look at Lan Qiren. “Tell me what happened!”

“It’s complicated,” Lan Qiren temporized, although he stepped forward to press his entire palm against Lao Nie’s cheek, eventually sliding it down to rest at the back of his neck instead, the still too-hot pendant trapped between his palm and Lao Nie’s flesh. He didn’t dare break the contact again, not after last time. “It will take time to explain…”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Lao Nie said, exasperated, impatient as always, and the sheer familiarity and nostalgia stuck in Lan Qiren’s throat, choking him. “I asked for an answer, Jiwei, and I expect one.”

The pleasant feeling froze at once, like having swallowed something the wrong way and getting it caught halfway down, stuck in his chest like a weight pressing down.

Not progress.

Or, rather – a very specific type of progress, in which Lao Nie was no longer on imminent verge of death from further qi deviations, in which he was no longer raving mad, rabid and attacking all those around him, but in which he also, apparently, believed that Lan Qiren was…his saber.

This was problematic for any number of reasons.

The first, of course, being that Lan Qiren was not, in fact, Jiwei. He was human, not a saber spirit; he was made of flesh, not metal. He wasn’t even the same gender, insofar as sabers considered themselves to have gender – both Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue affirmatively described their sabers using feminine terms, but quibbled whenever Lan Qiren attempted to describe them as women, claiming that their sabers were sabers, not humans, and therefore difficult to fit into the usual categorization.

At any rate, Lao Nie, at least, did not appear to be noticing any discrepancy.

However, that led them to the second major problem, which was that Lan Qiren and Lao Nie did not have the same relationship between them as Lao Nie had with his saber. The former were friends, however close; the latter were literally intertwined at the level of the soul, human master and spiritual weapon, co-dependent on each other in ways words could not even begin to describe. Even now, only standing next to each other, Lan Qiren could feel Lao Nie’s spiritual energy knocking against his palm, trying to enter his body to begin cultivating with him –

His ears suddenly felt like they were burning red.

What was perfectly appropriate, normal and even expected, between a cultivator and his spiritual weapon was not appropriate between two people, except perhaps dao companions who had agreed to share their lives and bodies with each other. It was entirely reasonable for Lao Nie to initiate such intimate contact – that was how spiritual weapons worked, through the cultivation of a blade or instrument through shared qi – and yet at the same time, because Lan Qiren was most definitely not a weapon, it became an offer for dual cultivation instead.

Right in front of Nie Mingjue.

Lan Qiren very firmly rejected the offer and Lao Nie laughed a little under his breath, an indulgent sound, and casually reached over to wrap his hand around Lan Qiren’s waist, pulling him closer – as if he thought Lan Qiren were merely playing hard-to-get, being prickly and inexplicitly unreasonable. As if a little bit of coaxing would be enough to get him to let down his guard, open up and let him in –

Lan Qiren coughed, abruptly very glad that he had not allowed either of his nephews to join in this trip. Or Nie Huaisang, for that matter, who despite his young age already had an over-active interest in other people’s personal lives.

That, he supposed, led them to the third problem: Lan Qiren was not nearly as easily mobile as a saber, could not be carried at Lao Nie’s belt nor kept with him at all times, and yet ceasing physical contact was clearly a bad idea. Perhaps once he had had some time to calm down…?

Nie Mingjue was looking between them with some concern as well. “A-die,” he said. “That’s Teacher Lan. Do you remember Teacher Lan?”

“Of course,” Lao Nie said, reaching out idly with his free hand as if to swat Nie Mingjue lightly on the head, an affectionate gesture that he forestalled immediately when he remembered that his son was injured. “What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve known Qiren since before I met your mother.”

“Good. That’s…good. I’m glad you remember him. You were sick for a little while, A-die; it made you confused.” Nie Mingjue paused briefly. “Can you tell me who’s that standing next to you?”

Lao Nie frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re not the one confused, A-Jue? Are you telling me you don’t recognize Jiwei?”

Nie Mingjue looked helplessly at Lan Qiren, who looked just as helplessly back.

He had absolutely no idea what to do about this – no notion of what the next step would be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands when Lao Nie looked down at himself and, with an abrupt scowl, appeared to realize the state of himself. “What a mess,” he said, disgusted. “A-Jue, have someone run me a bath. I’ll wash and head to bed for the night, but I want an answer from you as to what happened first thing tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes went very wide and traveled very slowly over to rest on Lan Qiren, who set aside his guqin and used that hand, once free, to pinch the bridge of his nose and try to summon patience, careful not to disturb the hand that still rested on the back of Lao Nie’s neck, the pendant still burning in his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly. It was not fine, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do at the moment except continue to indulge Lao Nie’s delusion – his state was so much improved from what it was just a little while before that he couldn’t bear to even try anything that would return him to it at the moment, and he could tell from Nie Mingjue’s constant glances to his hand that he felt the same. “We’ve been night-hunting together before.”

They’d bathed together before – mostly in rivers and lakes and hot springs, not bathtubs – and they’d slept in the same bed before, when that was the only thing that was available at the local inn.

This was nothing more than that.

It’d be fine.

Nie Mingjue did not look convinced, looked in fact on the verge of protesting, but Lao Nie was already looking at him with a growing scowl – he disliked being disobeyed, even though he tolerated it more from Nie Mingjue than from others – and he had no choice but to run off to do his father’s bidding.

The second he was out of the room, Lao Nie reached over and caught Lan Qiren’s free hand, bringing it up to his face, pressing his lips against Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Jiwei, have I displeased you in some manner?” he asked, very earnestly, as Lan Qiren stared at him. “Tell me what’s the matter, darling.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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babygirlkiki1016 · 3 years

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Masterlist

Chapter 10: A lovely bond

Chapter 11: Unexpected Betrayal

I resealed the door, drawing the same pattern as before to lock it in place. I was going to miss this little cave, for more memories than I ever could imagine happened here. I ran my fingers over my newly designed dwarven braid, after Thorin saw the one I made he decided to redo my braid into a dwarven rose. It was incredibly beautiful, I don't think I'd ever want to take it out.

"Well, you owe me a tooth." Kili wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we headed to the shifter's home. For he had more supplies that we needed, especially some from my home that we have supplied him with. "I found your courter, I will say I am surprised that it was my uncle. I never believed he could feel that way towards you, but now I understand why he didn't want you to think about marriage."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"He didn't want you to marry anyone else but him, I guess that means we get to call you auntie now. Auntie Y/n, rolls off the tongue doesn't it?"

"Although I'm glad that my uncle has warmed up to you, why would you want to be with someone who hurt you more than once?" Fili came close to my right, giving me a curious look. I didn't know why I loved Thorin, all he has ever done was make me feel sad. Did I fall in love because I wanted a person that didn't want me?

"I don't know the answer to that Fili, I have no idea why I fell in love with him. Thought I'm glad I did, for he has made me feel something I haven't felt in years." My gaze trailed over to the King who is staring back at me with a soft smile, my heart fluttered. As we made our way to the shifter's home, I rejoined my beloved who led the company.

"Thorin." I greeted, making him glance over at me with the same grin from earlier.

"Good morning amralime, I was beginning to worry you were ignoring me. For you haven't said a thing to me all morning."

"I was busy helping the others pack their things, for some reason they kept bowing as I approached." They had never done that before, and to me it was weird they would treat me such way. It became highly annoying, I had to keep reminding them that they didn't have to do that.

"You are my betrothed, soon you will be the Queen under the mountain. They have recognized you as one of their own, and accepted you as their Queen."

"I've done nothing to prove I'm a good leader, how could they call me such?"

"They first started to admire you when you asked for me to set your people free if you fell. Then you protected us in the Goblin tunnels, and when we were fighting the trolls. Even when you left, you still came back, you showed loyalty. And that's all they can ever ask for, it's all I can ask for." He slipped his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him, that look of adoration now had a permanent place on his features. Yet the small romantic moment came to an end, darkness appeared behind us, an orc pack was not far behind.

"Thorin." The look on my face was obvious, he shouted to the others to get their weapons ready. "This way!" I led them far into the forest, and soon we made our way onto Beorn's land. We ran across the field, the Orcs hot on our heels stop when they hear the creature roaring close by. We rushed to his house with the insanely large bear traveling behind us, quickly I unlocked the door letting everyone in. The creature lunges its head through it, and we all push to close the door. After being slightly injured by the pressure of the gate, Beorn finally moves his head and we manage to shut and lock the entrance.

"What is that?" Ori asked turning to me and the great grey wizard that stood beside me.

"That is our host," Gandalf explained as my focus went to Thorin, who was leaning on the door tiredly. He held his side, I reached forward and pulled away his cloak to see that he was bleeding slightly. "His name is Beorn, he’s a skin-changer. Sometimes he’s a huge black bear, sometimes he’s a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overly fond of dwarves."

"Come, let me fix your bandage." I let Thorin lean on me slightly, slowly I set him down on a nearby stool as the rest of the dwarves questioned if Beorn's abilities were dark magic or not. As Thorin slipped off his top clothing I grabbed a herb from my homeland that we had given to Beorn which he rarely ever uses. It's more of a 'just in case' necessity, good thing he has it.

"What is that?" Thorin took the red egg-like plant from my hand, examining it.

"It's called Arigonis, the juice inside has healing properties, it's a very rare plant. Well was, but we found a way to grow it, it'll heal your injuries all the way. However it will take time, a hour or so tops so don't scratch at it no matter how much it itches." I brought over a small bowl with water within, kneeling in front of him I took the plant and broke it apart. Using the juice and skin, I made this paste-like substance to put on his injuries. He had already taken his bandages off and discarded them to the side. When I looked up to cover him in the red-like paint, our faces were close, it was hard not to kiss him though I hardly doubt he would mind. I got to work in covering him with the herb, and it didn't take long before he went to scratch at it. "Hey, no don't do that." I slap his hand away playfully, he groans in frustration.

"It itches."

"That's how you know it's working, but if you scratch at it your wound won't heal all the way." He wants to scratch it badly, his fingers dug into his thigh so he wouldn't be tempted. Once I was done covering him in the agitating red paste, I washed my hands before making my way back over to him. I removed his hands from his thighs and made him focus on me. I was nervous, for I had never sang in front of anyone before but I figured it would help. I took a deep breath, keeping my gaze to the floor. "Wind howls in my hair, the world stops when you come this near. Starlight on your skin, the sky sways as you pull me in. And I, I wanna swim in your ocean. I wanna know how to love again, Ooh take me into your arm, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take my eyes from you." Everyone turned to me, listening as I sang the song my mother used to hum to me when I was a child. "Crash down to my knees, their fears and hopes flood over me.

Your hand finds my own and shows me that I'm not alone. Now I, I'm diving deep in your ocean, I see the way to redemption, Ooh.

Take me into your arms, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take

my eyes from you." All gathered around to listen as I sang the vocals, while others closed their eyes to sleep to the sound.

"Y/n." Thorin rested his hand upon my cheek, making me lean into his touch with a need to feel it. His eyes shined with a lovable glare, for he was stunned at my sudden talent.

"Take me into your arms, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take

my eyes from you." (Song called Into Your Arms by Ryan Louder & Serena). Thorin's lips found it's way to mine, the rough skin made me crave more but we can only do so much in front of the others.

"You should sing more often." He gave me a pleading look, I rolled my eyes and retrieved another bandage to wrap around his torso.

"Perhaps I will, but for now you need to rest."

"Sing me to sleep, my Queen?" I kissed his forehead, smiling at his request. His hands landed on my waist pulling me in, but he kept me away just far enough where I wouldn't mess up the paste.

"Anything for you my King."

~♪♠♪~

My arms rested around the dwarven man, his hair tickling my nose slightly. Ever since we had proclaimed our love to each other he's been wanting me to sleep by his side. Which of course I was willing to do, but it made me think. How long would I have a moment like this? Surely the other dwarven kingdoms would want him to marry someone suitable, though maybe I am suitable. Once we get those reports and it's shown to the world that my kin is innocent they wouldn't be able to turn down an alliance with the Queen of the Digonisks.

"You seem deep in thought." Thorin's voice rumbled, a shiver ran down my spine at the sudden vibration.

"Have you been watching me this entire time?" He shifted onto his side, those beautiful blue orbs meeting mine.

"No, but I can tell when your asleep and when your not. And when you think deeply about certain things you tend to frown or smile. Today you did both." His thumb caressed my cheek, a gesture to make sure I was alright. "What is it amralime?"

"After this quest, and my kin goes free, won't your people want you to marry someone suitable?"

"You are suitable, there is evidence that digonisks are innocent. Once the humans and the rest of my people realize their mistake, they'll do anything to make their wrongs a right."

"...What if the scrolls aren't there? What if we never find them, will you still love me?"

"Of course." He seemed hurt that I began to doubt his feelings, a determined look appeared. He leaned forward and pecked my lips, but it soon became a more passionate kiss. Luckily we were in one of the empty stables for privacy, or the others would be grossed out. His arms wrapped tightly around me, I settled on top of him and straddle his waist. His bandages remained on his chest, for I had forgotten to take them off last night yet his wounds should be healed all the way now. With a smirk he flipped us over, his muscular figure now above my own.

"We're gonna get caught."

"Let them see." He goes to kiss me again but a loud fake gag was heard from behind him.

"No don't them see." Kili covered his eyes along with his brother, I gave Thorin an 'I told you so' look. "We came to tell you breakfast has been made." They quickly scurried away, sighing Thorin stood and we headed to the dining room. Everyone is sat at a table being served breakfast by Beorn, whose eyes widened when he saw me.

"Y/n." He nods his head slightly as a greeting, but a frown comes upon his features. "What are you doing here with a bunch of dwarves? Shouldn't you be in-" He stopped talking, for he did not want to give away our hidden home.

"No, I've been helping these men for the past few months. Don't worry Beorn they know, and they've accepted me." I stood in front of Thorin, undoing the white cloth that had been around his torso for far too long.

"If your here then who's running things?"

"Lani, my handmaiden why is there something wrong?"

"I've received word from your people that I must pay tribute for the Arigonis. They want me to cut wood so they can collect it." I stopped, pay tribute? I've never had him pay tribute before and Lani knows that, besides it's not that rare of a plant anymore.

"And if you refuse?"

"They wouldn't supply me with it anymore, and if I continue to refuse they threatened to imprison me. At first, I was angry for I never expected this out of you but seeing you now showed me that you had nothing to do with it." Imprisonment? That was nothing like my kin, what was going on while I was away?

"Who gave the order?"

"Fenris delivered me the scroll explaining how things were going to be handled from now on. Though I don't think it was him." There was no way Lani would take control like this, she was an innocent girl, right? Or was she abusing the power I gave her? Maybe it was a misunderstanding, that's not like her, she can barely ask me for something. "They're coming later to receive my answer, they should be here in a few-" Before he could finish his answer there was pounding on the door, well speak of the devil.

"Thorin wipe off the paste, I'll be back." Angrily I opened the barn door to see Fenris, the commander of my armies who immediately bowed along with the rest of his group.

"My Queen! I did not realize you were here."

"I did not realize someone gave the order to threaten my friend, who ordered that Beorn would have to give up his wood for the herb?"

"Well, you did my Queen." I was taken aback, and I could hear gasps behind me. The dwarves watched as I went from angry to absolutely furious.

"I gave no such command, for I haven't been in contact with anyone for quite some time. Where did you hear about this?"

"Lani showed us the paper you supposedly signed, that anyone we give supplies to must pay tribute in return and if not, they shall be imprisoned or worse...be sentenced to death."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel @ask-the-elf-stuff

#bilbo x reader #fili and kili #fili x oc #gandalf #kili imagine #the company #the hobbit kili #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #bofur the dwarf #kili the dwarf #the hobbit x y/n #thorin fluff #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield fic

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