#because even if he still loves him there is also the lingering resentment. they fought! literally! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buggysangel17 · 8 months

Text

Meet The Cross Guild

Summary: You meet your husband's new 'co-workers'. Mihawk realized the worry that came with having you as his one and only weakness. Characters: Dracule Mihawk x Wife!Female Reader (Amihan). Sir Crocodile. Buggy. Word Count: 1,392 Chapter Warnings: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence. Mention of slicing someone's body part. (Buggy obviously) lol.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Send Me An Ask?

“Who is this?”

To Mihawk, it took a lot out of him to bring you here—in what would now be his new home, a place that would also serve as one of the many places where meetings would take place with the likes of one Crocodile and the annoyance of the fucking clown. But it was a risk he was willing to make knowing that you could handle your own.

After the events as what was your shared home in Kuraigana Island, how you had fought almost in the same par as him, he trusted you enough to be in the same space as two other former warlords that could possibly be a danger to not only himself but to you, his one and only weakness.

“That’s a good costume. The nose even looks so realistic too.”

He stands corrected.

He had watched Buggy take hold of your face, offended as his nose was now a topic of discussion. But somehow the fear was never once lingering on your face even as the empty threats begin to spill out of the clown’s lips for his nose being acknowledged.

“I’d be careful with my wife, she knows how to wield whatever weapon she could get her hands upon.” He had warned not his wife, but the man that had the utter audacity to hold onto his wife the way he did.

“Wife?!”

Buggy did not even finish the single word before a knife was pulled out of your palms and slicing through the man’s hand, ineffective knowing the Devil fruit the clown had with him. But the shock was all the more amusing in your eyes seeing the lack of blood as well as pain in the face of the clown.

“He isn’t affected by slashing attacks, My Love.” Mihawk had finally explained as you were still utterly confused by everything that the man in front of you was being.

Mihawk watched the arrogance in the clown as he continued to tease his wife about close to invisible because of his powers, but busy as he was with his own thoughts a ghost of a smile had laced the swordsman’s face as you instead pulled out a blunt mace from out of your palm and immediately bludgeoning the man with it knocking him down cold for a good few minutes of peace.

“Thank you.” Mihawk patted your shoulder, appreciating the lack of annoyance for now.

“It seems we have interrupted your time with your wife.” It was now Sir Crocodile that made his presence known, with the lack of an annoying figure that was Buggy, he was free to talk without much of an interruption.

“It’s fine.” You reassured with a smile on your lips, returning both your knife and mace back to your palm right in front of the man.

“It seems we have another Devil Fruit wielder then.”

“She is.” Mihawk finds himself interrupting the man’s line of questions. The less the man knows about you and your background, the better. He trusted you, but the same could not be said about the two men that was now in his home.

“It would be best to keep an eye on her then, Hawk Eye, if the World Government knew about her existence, it would be her head that’s plastered in the Bounty Posters.”

Mihawk has known as much. But he trusted not only himself, but as well as you that you would keep yourself away from much trouble as you possibly could. With this new change in both of your lives, you never resented him for it. In fact, you enjoyed yet another change in your life alongside him. That alone had reassured him that anything that may come, you took to stride.

“She can handle herself perfectly fine with or without me to help her.” Mihawk spoke.

“I’ll leave you three to it. I’ll bring the tea once it’s brewed.” You patted him on the chest and kissed him on the cheeks before leaving the two men to the impending conversation that they would be dealing with now.

“If she finds herself becoming a pirate, she might even surpass you, Hawk Eye.”

“And I don’t doubt you on your statement. But she is content to work by my side for now.”

“But until when?”

“They seem—nice. The clown is also a funny one.” You spoke the moment Mihawk had slipped out of the bath he had.

He was welcomed to the sight of you in bed in your delicate nightgown with a book in hand. You were surprisingly in good spirit even with how the entire day played out. Buggy, for all intents and purposes did not back down even after being knocked down cold by your hands. Somehow doubling down in making his entire stay focused on getting on your nerves but somehow you welcomed him with a smile and asking if he wanted any of the pastries you’ve made for the day. But his worry had been more on Crocodile, how his interest in you and your power had unnerved him—he might not have gotten under your skin, but he succeeded in getting under Mihawk’s as much as he did not want to admit it.

Instead of crawling into his side of the bed, he finds himself crawling on top of you, nestling his cheek against the flesh of your chest—this was his side of the bed now for the past few months. His arms wrapped around your waist as your hands now rested on his hair, scratching onto his scalp in the same way that he loved you doing.

“What’s on your mind, Darling?” You inquired halting in your movements.

“Keep going.” He finds himself urging you on.

“You’re so needy.” You playfully complained but obliged to his request.

“It’s not really something you need to worry about. Just a few hindrance that needs to mind their own business.” He began. “We had made an agreement with the clown that he will be the face that is plastered for the World Government to see but I’m concerned about what it would mean if they find out about you.”

“I’m not really worried.” You shrugged, smiling down at him. The softness of your gaze towards him brought him peace that he would have never thought he would deserve. “I’m married to the strongest swordsman in the world, I’m certain and I am very confident that you will not let anything happen to me.”

All his worries, it all magically vanished away at your words. How even when all was said and done, when the circumstance of your relationship was not as ideal as he would have wanted it to be, you still gave him faith that he never truly believed he deserved or earned.

He flipped the both of you until you were now under him, a surprised squeal escaping from your lips from the sudden movement. He smiled immediately pulling you in for a kiss before you could admonish him for the sudden movement.

“I care for you, so much more than I would ever care for anything else in this world. I vow to protect you, to care for you, and to love you until my last breath.”

They never had their vows, and this was the closest thing he could do for it. He will make a reality out of a once forced circumstance.

“Mihawk…” You wrapped your arms around him, drawing him closer, and for a brief moment, the world around you both disappeared. All that mattered was the two of you, your love, and the vows that he had made. It was a promise that would withstand the test of time.

As you finally parted, your forehead touched, and you looked into his eyes, your heart was full of love and gratitude. In the serene moment of peace in your own little space, this was a beginning of a new life for the two of you and Mihawk will make sure you will have the life you always wanted and what you always deserved.

“I love you, Mihawk.” You whispered, voice filled with emotion.

Mihawk smiled, his eyes glistening with love. Your lips met once more, sealing your vows and love in a kiss that would linger in your hearts for as long as you were both alive.

668 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

16K notes · View notes

duckiemimi · 9 months

Note

Hi Mimi hoping you’re doing good If you don’t mind me asking do you have any headcanons personal or not on gojo and geto or any characters in general?

AAA what a lovely question! thank u for asking me! though i will go out to say, i think a lot of my headcanons have interspersed into some of my analyses (and fics!) 😭 i can’t help it—they’re so dear to me, sometimes i forget where i start and where they end :’) i try my best to separate, though! some of my headcanons are serious, some are plausible, and some just make me laugh. i’ll make this into a little list then:

⟡ geto and gojo did NOT get along when they first met. it was during their first class—yaga had just asked a question about what it means to be a jujutsu sorcerer. geto, the then budding honor student, raised his hand and voiced his thoughts (something righteous, something justice-driven). gojo, who was silent and aloof the whole class, couldn’t help but comment. they fought in the classroom an hour into their first day. thank god the gojo clan has money because they obliterated half the building.

(interestingly enough, that show of power was taken into consideration when they got promoted to special grades a month later!)

⟡ shoko comes from a jujutsu clan. it’s not a prestigious one like the big three, but they’re still very respected, akin to the inumaki clan. their innate familial CT is RCT—it’s why shoko couldn’t explain it well to gojo that one time; it was just muscle memory to her, innate! the loneliness took some time to learn, though.

⟡ utahime and gakuganji are related and come from one clan. they specialize in ritualistic, supporting CTs (like in the manga!). utahime went to school in tokyo, but moved back to kyoto because her family lives there and because gakuganji was the principal in that branch. (nepo baby utahime? then again, that could be said for a lot of characters here.) mei mei is her upperclassman by three years.

⟡ when gojo was younger, his retainers (along with multiple bodyguards, hidden and in plain sight) would take him out to walk around the city. it’s why he doesn’t mind traveling far for his missions because while they pile up, he enjoys the time he spends exploring different places.

(it’s also why we saw him roaming the city alone in that one panel. maybe he was ten or twelve there? he’d sneak out during his homeschool lessons when it got boring. “tell me something i don’t know.”—a pre-pubescent gojo, probably.)

⟡ during these walks he used to go on as a child, his retainers would try to prevent him from lingering too long at one place because people talk. the people in town were all afraid and in awe of him; resentful, curious, scared. he looked different, he felt different, and every time he glanced in their direction, it would unnerve them to no end. a young gojo didn’t quite understand why at first. sometimes, they’d whisper the occasional cruel comment amongst themselves. gojo’s eyes are great, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hear.

whenever they’d reach the end of their walks, back at the gojo estate, his retainers would always crouch down and cup his face, darting their eyes around, wary that a clan member might see (even worse—his parents). they’d tell him that everything those people said were lies and weren’t true at all. they’d tell him that he’s a good child. it’s a core memory for gojo.

⟡ geto was in the judo club in middle school. it made him feel a little less lonely at home and it was an outlet for all his frustrations, for all the things he couldn’t say. he was more himself when he moved. then in jujutsu high, he took all the martial arts lessons very seriously because now he had reason to fight and train so hard; a purpose; a meaning. even ten years after defecting, his form and technique was still impeccably perfect.

⟡ geto was a social smoker, meanwhile shoko is a chronic one.

⟡ geto stopped smoking after he took in mimiko and nanako.

⟡ despite his busy, busy schedule, a freshly graduated gojo always made time to see how megumi and tsumiki were doing. he’d help them with their homework (tsumiki was always receptive; it took megumi some time to accept homework help), he’d shower them in souvenir sweets, and he’d walk megumi’s dogs with him. he tried his best! he still does!

⟡ contrary to popular opinion, gojo does sleep. or at least, he tries. it doesn’t really count as sleep if it’s all dream, though.

⟡ in the early days, geto tried to get mimiko and nanako to call him anything but master. after a year of them calling him that, it just stuck, and in geto’s head at the time, it fit his public image, so he just stopped trying.

⟡ mimiko and nanako enrolled in non-sorcerer schools. education is important, geto told them, but the sanitization they had to go through at home, after school, was tedious. geto would always ask them what they learned in class, making sure they weren’t empathizing with the non-sorcerers, reminding them that facts are facts and there is no meaning to them. sometimes, while mimiko and nanako wait for a cult-member to pick them up after school, they’d watch their classmates hug their parents at the gate. sometimes, they’d think of calling him papa.

⟡ geto had a crush on gojo in high school, halfway through their first year. gojo never thought about that (romance, relationships, and such) till his third year. they never acted on anything during the two years in between when they were constantly together.

⟡ whenever geto and gojo would meet during those ten years, it would always be out of gojo’s request, though he’d deny it if you asked. geto would always try to stay away (he’s burned the bridge, goddammit, he can’t keep risking the distance), but then he’d take one look at gojo and it would be hard to. he’d always regret it after.

⟡ the first time shoko and utahime drank together, it was a little after shoko’s graduation. drunk and delirious, shoko started talking about how lonely she was, and how frustrated she was because her two best friends are so fucking stupid. utahime helped her home and swore to never tell anybody about it. now they drink together pretty often.

these are the ones at the top of my head! maybe i’ll add on if i remember some more, but thanks again for asking!

48 notes · View notes

xfindingtrouble · 1 year

Text

after percy meets pelor, he cries. in private, of course - it's not something he wants to do in the face of the potential end of the world. there is more to worry about than his own baggage, there is more to focus on than his Beef with the almighty. but there is something surreal about facing the dawnfather.

though percy claims he's never prayed much [ & i think, for the most part that's true ] I'm sure he has when things were darkest. he probably prayed that someone would come save & cass, that they would both survive it, that he may be forgiven by the end of it all... but there was never an answer. in fact, the only reason they got whitestone back at all was because they did it them damn selves. sarenrae had a hand in it via pike but the dawnfather didn't help them.

i'm sure in hindsight, he'd see that pelor had a hand in saving his people. pelor wasn't absent, not by any means, vox machina cold just handle their own problems. he & cass survived it on their own, they grow on their own terms, but not without suffering. but there were other lives in the balance! but percy is just a single perspective in the greater picture. he is mortal, he is selfish, he is petty [ i say with love ] & as much as he likes to think he knows it all, he doesn't. he can't.

but there is still this resentment that lingers forever. because percy asked for help when he needed it most & was failed by the gods again & again. i think this is also partially because the gods work with people who are willing to meet them halfway & percy spent so long looking for a sign that he never took that leap of faith necessary? in fact, Cassandra was the one who finally trusted the gods with her fate & then paid a very expensive price for it.

but anyways there is something so visceral about facing any god, let alone the one you begged for mercy & never delivered it. the god who knows who they are, greets them as vox machina. proof that he'd been paying attention. also sarenrae saying that she hears every prayer is like salt in the wound for percy because it leaves this question of what would happen if he had prayed to her? what would have been different? would he be kinder, better, more consistent? he'll never know! it's soo much worse when pelor claims that whitestone is under his watch & keep. it's honest, yes, but it's so personal.

of course he would never want to change the journey he's taken to try & heal but i feel like it poses this question of ' what if i didn't have to take that journey at all ' which of course he would have... but percy deals in a lot of extremes, especially revolving around guilt & sense of self. he wants to say he wouldn't change anything he'd been through but there's so much he would undo if he had the chance. he's plagued by regret his whole life, he just learns how to manage it. though the feeling lingers, he learns how to forgive himself & the person that was even he wished he never had to become that person to survive.

also it's worth noting that this is like the straw that breaks the camels back. he'd just fought & killed delilah, vax died & came back to life, he'd faced another god only hours before. what they're dealing with is bigger than any single perspective.

he thought that maybe his role as a hero was over, though he knew better. all while he wonders in the back of his head whether or not whitestone is safe & when vecna is going to target it because he knows it's coming. there wouldnt be a ziggeraut under his home if it wasn't. delilah would have never chosen whitestone as her base of operations if it wasn't important. There would be a big, ugly cry at some point but it just makes him sick!

especially bcs he wants to believe. it feels like he wants to say he does, but this is something he knows he can't lie about. he sees vex, finding faith, right before his eyes & there's still this bit of him that remembers. that fixates on his unanswered prayers as a scared child. he trusts her, he's happy for her, he loves her... & maybe he's jealous. just a little bit, hidden beneath the rest of it.

also it is sooo worth noting that percy is not a crier. he's cried enough, there aren't many tears left for him that he hasn't already shed. but sometimes he can't help it.

#ooc.#tbd.#i will have more to say when im done with this episode #but i am near the end of ep 104 & just thinking

11 notes · View notes

obi-wkenobi · 3 years

Note

an obikin fic in which Obi is pining (and is hopelessly in love) with Anakin from afar but he thinks he is too old and that Anakin deserves only the best but Obi has his happy ending

Hi anon, thanks for this! I hope the below fic is something you had in mind. 😊

Anakin was next on the Council’s agenda, and from the hastily written report they had received hours before, the meeting was unlikely to be a quick one. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, what with Anakin mostly touring the outer rim and himself left on Coruscant. It wouldn’t do well for the other Council members to know, but Obi-Wan had missed him. He missed them. The Team.

And if Obi-Wan missed Anakin more than was entirely appropriate, then only he would ever know. There was no need to embarrass himself after all.

Sweat and dust darkened Anakin’s robes as he walked into the chamber, his curls plastered to the back of his neck and usually golden skin a chestnut brown. Tivol was a hot world, Obi-Wan recalled dumbly, with scorching heat that rivaled Tatooine’s, and Force, if possible, it had made Anakin even more beautiful.

The sight of him hit Obi-Wan hard, both by the frantic thud of his old heart and the deep and low drum below his belt, sparking adrenaline in his veins like the crackle of an electroblade. He shook his head, urgently trying to gather his wits after having them knocked out of him due to the simple sight of his former Padawan.

“Masters,” Anakin said, bowing respectfully and casting them a small smile, his eyes lingering on Obi-Wan.

“Knight Skywalker,” Master Windu said, “the Council is glad that you have returned, your report was most...brief in its detailing about your success on Tivol.”

Anakin flushed, the red tint wonderfully darkening his cheeks even more. “My apologies, I was too engaged with the mission whilst there and only remembered the report on my way back.”

Oh, Anakin, he thought fondly, chucking his erstwhile Padawan an exasperated look and privately delighting in watching Anakin squirm as a result.

Master Windu leaned forward, disappointment written plainly on his face. “You forgot?!”

Anakin’s face went from endearingly embarrassed to outright irate, turning a telltale purple as his anger grew. That wasn’t what Obi-Wan wanted to see. Anakin had had a difficult few weeks, he didn’t deserve to be reprimanded so soon upon his return.

“No harm has come from it, surely, Master?” Obi-Wan interrupted softly, stubbornly keeping his composure as Master Windu’s deep brown eyes settled upon him rigidly. “Anakin can add to the report today if necessary.”

A few seats down from him, a baritone chuckle sounded. “Knight Skywalker, your former Master has come to your defence once again. He does that quite a bit you know,” Master Plo observed.

Obi-Wan spluttered, indignant. “I do not.”

“Don’t you?” Master Windu asked, an eyebrow arched knowingly.

Now it was his turn to blush, except when he did so his face turned awfully red and splotchy. Charming on someone as lively and youthful as Anakin, but utterly demoralising on an older man like him.

Anakin peered at him with an odd intrigue in his sharp blue eyes. “Do you?”

“I-I…” he fumbled, victim to a verbal ineptitude that he very rarely experienced.

Apparently, Anakin found that amusing. Those enigmatic eyes shined with mirth and a mischievous smile settled on his face, no doubt delighting in the flustering of his usually impervious former Master.

“Perhaps I am guilty of doing so on occasion,” Obi-Wan admitted reluctantly.

It was worth it. Anakin ducked his head shyly, coyly looking at Obi-Wan from beneath long, golden lashes. They stared at one another intensely for what felt like an infinite moment. Each agonising second made him hot all over, heat making his vision hazy, and he fought every instinct telling him to go to Anakin. To pull him into his arms and to bite at that full bottom lip.

But he wouldn’t. Anakin didn’t want him like that, why would he? There were others who could give him what Obi-Wan could not. Younger, better, people who were able to give him everything that he deserved.

“Perhaps you can tell me about those occasions over dinner?”

What?—

Obi-Wan’s wandering gaze snapped back to Anakin’s face. Embarrassment had returned, but there was also the familiar hardness of determination. Had Anakin really just said that? Was Anakin flirting with him? Right here, in the Council chamber—

“Force help me,” Master Windu suddenly muttered. “Can we please get back to the mission report?”

Obi-Wan slowly turned to look at him, face beet red and mortified by what had just transpired. He rubbed a grounding hand through his coarse beard. “Of course, Master.”

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly planted anywhere but on Anakin, convinced that should their gazes meet then he would do something horribly inappropriate. Just when exactly had he become this man? Wildly passionate and besotted with a man who could enchant him with his insufferable teasing and his loud, booming laugh.

Oh, how Obi-Wan ached to hear that laugh. It had been too long since he had enjoyed the thrill of Anakin’s company.

By the time the Council adjourned for the day, Obi-Wan had mostly been able to purposefully forget what had occurred hours earlier. So sure that he had misinterpreted Anakin’s request, and certain it was only a result of his own hopeless longing, Anakin wanting him in return never being a possible explanation.

“It’s about time.”

Frowning, Obi-Wan finished standing from his Council chair and turned to Master Plo. “Excuse me?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure, but he thought the Jedi Master was grinning beneath his mask. “I said it’s about time. That doesn’t mean I want to hear about all the sordid details in the morning though, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan gaped at him. Sordid details? About what? “I’m afraid I still don’t understand, Master.”

Yes, Obi-Wan thought, the Jedi Master was definitely smiling, he could see the recognisable creases by his eyes now.

His gleeful reply also gave him away, “Go and get him, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan stared after him as he walked away. Go and get him, Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he made his way to his quarters. What in the galaxy did that mean? Today had been one of the strangest in recent memory. Force, what was he even going to say when he next saw Anakin?

His quarters should have been dark when he entered, but they weren’t, something was...flickering?

What in the Force—

The room was lit by a slew of candles placed around the dining room, light blinking alongside the subtle shifts in the air. The room looked remarkably serene, the candles backlit by Coruscant’s sunset providing hues of a dusty orange-pink. On the table was some food, steam rising from plates, and a bottle of red wine placed in the middle.

Alderaanian wine—Obi-Wan’s favourite.

“Hello there, Master.”

Obi-Wan swivelled to look at Anakin, the alluring lines of his body resting deliberately casually against the kitchen counter, surveying Obi-Wan with a nervous, but amused smile tilted on his lips.

“Hello, Anakin,” he croaked. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner,” Anakin said, grinning when Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I can see that,” he retorted, voice dry and fond. “Why is there dinner, and err—” he blushed furiously, hoping that the darkness hid it, “candles.”

“Because I said that we should have dinner together.”

Obi-Wan tugged at his beard, thinking. “No, you asked if we could.”

Anakin sighed, naked, frustrated affection sitting on his face. “Details, Master.”

Obi-Wan hummed and continued stroking his beard, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. He observed the situation again, considering the impossible...Anakin was not known for subtlety, perhaps...Anakin wanted him? Maybe Anakin was trying to tell him something.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. “Anakin—”

Before he could say more, Anakin smiled at him, almost shyly, before walking up to him, and then...then—

Anakin’s lips were on his. They fit together as he had always imagined they would, their lips slanting together and meeting with an intoxicating heat. Obi-Wan wound one hand to cup his head, fingers threading through dishevelled locks, the other hand falling to his lower back, pulling him close. Their lips parted at the instinctive pressure, their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths. Anakin moaned obscenely, the sound more erotic than his wildest dreams.

Eventually, Obi-Wan gathered enough awareness to break the kiss with a wet sound. “Anakin—what?”

“Master,” Anakin panted, the honorific making Obi-Wan groan indecently, “I can’t believe how oblivious you are.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “I resent that—”

Anakin laughed and kissed the underside of his jaw. “It’s true.”

“I just…” he murmured against bitten lips, “I never thought you would be interested in an old man like me.”

Anakin’s brows furrowed. “You’re not old.”

“I’m sixteen years your senior, Anakin.”

“So? That doesn’t bother me, I’ll want you even when you’re actually old.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighed, gently biting at the hollow of Anakin’s throat. “You might not feel that way when you’re older and you meet someo—”

Anakin jerked his head back up and kissed him again, desperate and deep. “No,” he stressed, “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows jumped at that. Years? His observation skills clearly needed improving.

“Do you believe me?” Anakin asked, pulling back to look at him.

Futilely, he looked for any indication of deception. It was pointless, want and need sat as clear as day on Anakin’s face.

“I do.”

Anakin surged against him, pressing their mouths together once more, and the both of them smiled in delight as their dinner lay forgotten.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obikin #my writing #asks #anon

81 notes · View notes

gothicdreamon · 3 years

Text

FINALLY SAPNAP'S LORE!

I am so excited for Sapnap's lore.

The production seemed to be formal (more like Quackity's lore streams) however I hope that it's just a "first step" so he can do more casual lore/semi-lore streams in the future if he wants, a little like how the Las Nevadas group are doing right now (this is me being WAY too hopeful).

But let's talk about all the possibilities Sapnap's character in the Dream SMP has, because without doing much, c!Sapnap is in the middle of so much complex relationship's all around the server.

First off, the trailer is Sapnap watching the community house and remembering the time it was blown up with a sword in his hand, this obviously alludes to Dream, their past and the promise Sapnap made when he went to visit him in prison. (Side note: does anyone remember the cognitive dissonance of that stream? They were just fooling around and then Sapnap just turned around and started doing super heavy lore. The whiplash I felt, geez). Sapnap clearly still has some unresolved feelings about Dream, he sees his former friend as a traitor, someone who should have cared about him and have his back but instead left him, opposed to his projects, hurt his friends and destroyed items and building of significance to them, to their history. Dream hurt him and Sapnap resents him for it (even if he says he doesn't) to the point where Sapnap made the promise, the oath, that if Dream was to escape prison, he was going to be the one to take his last canon life. From time to time, Sapnap can have a strong sense of justice (this doesn't include pets) and will act depending in what he thinks it's right so putting Dream's life to an end in order to prevent him from escaping his well-deserved punishment it's something he's willing to do because he believes that's the correct thing to do, however the interesting part is that he doesn't just want him dead, he wants to be the one who kills him. Not Tommy, even though Dream very intentionally abused him. Not Sam, even though it is in his job as the Warden to go through that kind of extent. Not anyone else, but Sapnap. He only sees himself worthy of doing such a thing, why? Maybe because Sapnap actually knew him, they were best friends, brothers almost. They built and fought and laughed, all side by side. They were family and Sapnap remembers that, maybe part of him still believes it and that's why it disturbs him so much. We can see that in the way he talks about Dream with lingering nostalgia, the doubtfulness in his voice when he went to visit him in prison, asking him about how he feels, wanting to communicate, hoping his old friend still remains somehow. He still wanted to be friends. Sapnap even was open to forgiveness with the condition that everyone that Dream hurt was too. He wants to be the one who puts the sword through Dream's heart not because he hates him but because he loved him. If Dream were to die, it shouldn't be by the hands of someone who only saw him as a villain, but instead someone who met the good in him, making the oath of killing him somewhat merciful and somewhat more disdainful. Sapnap believes is in his right to end that life because, in his eyes, the treason committed by turning his back to him and George just to become something akin to a power-hungry monster was Dream's biggest crime. ("You hurt a lot of people but you hurt specifically me".)

It's worth mentioning too that Sapnap is the only person to know that Ranboo used to consistently visit Dream in prison (aside from Ranboo, Sam and Dream, obviously).

Now, in the trailer he also pictures Kinoko Kingdom and the title is "Memories Gone". This could be an indicator that Sapnap is battling with mixed emotions and trying to sever the ties he still has to the past. The title also connects with Karl, who's memories are literally fading away, and Quackity, who is completely confirmed to want to move away from the past. It looks like the lore most likely be a series of flashbacks so I'm curious how back in the past we'll be shown and how close to the present we're going to get.

The conflict with Quackity and Karl. They were supposed to be fiancees and as I was literally writing this Karl tweeted, so Kinoko Kingdom lore is basically confirmed. Kinoko Kingdom lore, huh? In the nation there is Karl, Sapnap and George. We could finally see what tensions are between them and Quackity after he went on to create Las Nevadas and they kind of ditched him. We could also finally see what roles each individual is supposed to play in the administration of the nation as well as how Karl's constant mysterious leaves and George's curse of sleep affect it. The place was supposed to be a fresh start where they could be happy and safe, but it has basically turned into a ghost town. The beautiful buildings and scenery hasn't been touched. I don't think they even have properly installed houses in the place. I feel it is the time for some conflict to happen. Will the engagement be called off? There is definitely some resentment from Quackity's part, so how do Sapnap and Karl feel? If a fight arises, will Kinoko Kingdom become rival to Las Nevadas? Sapnap has a quite amicable relationship with Tommy (they'll fight in a heartbeat, but they also don't hate each other) so I wonder if there could be an alliance of some sort. There are so many open questions about the place, so hopefully some of them get answered. My bar for Kinoko isn't exactly high so my only wish right now is that the place gets used somehow and that's it. Now, I now this most likely won't happened, but I kind of wish there's some lore with Niki, as she is an anarchist and wasn't to happy about a nation installing itself right above her city.

Lastly, this is more of a personal wish, but Sapnap is BadBoyHalo's canonically son, so if we got some reaction or thoughts about his canonically father being brainwashed and controlled by a foreign mysterious somewhat deity, I'd be over the moon. Unfortunately, cc!Sapnap doesn't seem too interested in the Egg Lore. Oh well, one can dream.

I wan't going anywhere with this, I just wanted to ramble because it's MOTHERFUCKING SAPNAP LORE!!!!

49 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

17K notes · View notes

ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

Underestimated-Halfdan The Black x Reader

(GIF credit to @jorindelle)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! Could you please write an imagine about Halfdan? If so, with smut please ☺️ thank you in advance, I love your imagines!’

Characters: Halfdan the Black x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, kissing, mention of weapons, mention of battle, fighting/violence, touching/groping, dirty talk, mention of cum, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun was beating down on us harshly, despite the season turning cold, but with no clouds in the sky we found ourselves sweating as we trained. I was in charge today, these young people knew the basics, though they thought that meant they were ready. They had a long way to go before they were fully prepared for battle.

"Rest for a short while. Lay your weapons down, have some water, try to get out of the sun. We shall be sparring next." I announced, laughing at their relieved faces.

"(Y/N)?" one of the girls called as they sat under the nearest tree, whilst another girl grabbed a hug to pour everyone a cup of water.

"Yes?" I sat down with them.

"Is it true that on the last raid, you found yourself surrounded by five warriors on the battlefield? And you had no choice but to fight them off yourself?!"

"Yes, it's true. That was a difficult battle, even without being ambushed. You see, we weren't raiding a helpless village, or a meek town. These people were prepared, since the first viking raid years and years ago, they had been training, just like we do. Although they were not up to our standards of skill, they had courage, which, at first, helped them. I had managed to cut down anyone in my path, until they caught me out.”

"So how did you escape?"

"She didn't." someone else spoke up.

All of our heads turned to look at Birger, who was leaning back against the tree, sipping on his water as he smirked.

I raised an eyebrow at him."Oh? I didn't realise you were there Birger, please elaborate."

His expression didn't falter as he sat up."It doesn't make sense. Anyone with enough sense you see that. You say you're able to fight your way through everyone, and suddenly you're in trouble?"

"Well, Birger, if you had ever been in a battle, or even a small scrap for that matter, you would understand that you cannot control everything. Even the greatest warriors find themselves in trouble at times. That's why training is so important. You might learn something if you paid attention instead of gazing at yourself in the reflection of your sword."

The others snickered under their breaths, causing Birger to scowl.“I am going to be the finest warrior-”

“Yes, you will be due to my training. You’re young and naive, but over time you will learn discipline. Everyone, you have five minutes before we start again. And thanks to Birger, we will start with double conditioning.”

It was cruel to the others, but the look of resentment on Birger’s face secretly brought me joy. It was sadistic, though he deserved it. He was right, he would become a great fighter, just like his parents (who were good friends of mine, hence why I had agreed to take him on). I had no idea where his attitude came from, all of his family were very humble; however, he was the eldest of all their children, who the rest of were girls, and as the only son, he was the one who would carry on the family line. And with parents known for their fighting skills, he also had the pressure of becoming a warrior.

“Birger, may I talk to you?” I said as I dismissed everyone at the end of the day.

He halted in his steps, and I could tell he rolled his eyes before turning around. “Yes?”

“I want you to keep training, I want to keep training you. But I will not tolerate you speaking of me in such an ill manner and spreading lies.”

He shrugged, looking away.“If what you say is true, why are so defensive about it?”

“I am defending my honour. I have fought beside your parents to ensure that the children of this town, children like yourself, have a good and rich future. There is a thin line between confidence and arrogance.”

“I get this speech every day from my father, I don’t need to listen to you too. Especially from someone who uses her husband’s titles to her advantage-”

“Be careful what you say boy, otherwise you shall lose your tongue.” Halfdan suddenly appeared behind me, causing my head to whip up to look at him.

Birger looked frightened, but didn’t back down.“You can’t do that.”

“Who says?” Halfdan’s arm slipped around my waist.

“My parents would-”

“Your parents would thank me. Go on, run home boy.”

It was easy to see that Birger wanted to bite back, his hand was even on the hilt of his sword (a beautiful piece of weaponry gifted to him, I had been jealous of it). Knowing he would get into more trouble or embarrass himself, he sulked away, picking up his pace to catch up with his friends.

“I can handle Birger.” I moaned to my husband, turning around to face him.

He smirked.“I know, but I love seeing him shit his trousers.”

I giggled.“Yes, so do I. Although I would have liked to do that myself, thank you.”

He shamelessly let his hands slide down to grope my arse, pulling me close as he leaned down to kiss me. I held onto either side of his face, loving how he was treating me in that moment. He moaned against my mouth, and although I could feel myself getting worked up, we had other places to be, and I was in the mood for teasing him.

“Halfdan.” I breathed out as his lips travelled down my neck.“We have your brother’s birthday feast.”

He pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“And?”

I laughed.“We need to get ready. I still need to bathe.”

“Well, we should bathe together-”

“You’ll make us late.” I gently took his arms off me.

“Is there something wrong with you today? Are you feeling alright?” he put his hand against my forehead.

I removed it, kissing his hand before taking it in my own.“I’m absolutely fine. Let’s go.”

It was hilarious seeing his reaction. He was gobsmacked as I dragged him along. Of course throughout our relationship, we had teased each other like this before, but it had been a long time since I had fun like this. Halfdan was used to fucking women whenever he liked long before me, and used to making love to me regularly. However, in this moment he was confused as to why I didn’t want him to take me in the field, especially since we hadn’t slept together for over a week, due to clashing schedules.

As soon as we stepped into our home, I made a beeline for our room, ordering the thralls to start my bath. Another thrall already had my dress laid out on a chair, along with the shoes and jewellery. I was admiring the pieces, knowing that Halfdan had followed me, and I refrained from giggling when he ordered the thralls to leave.

“Halfdan,” I faked shock,“they need to run my bath, I have to get ready!”

“Why are you so insistent on being on time? We’ve been late many times before.”

“Because we have a reputation to uphold.”

“A reputation?” he walked closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chest against my back.“We’re known for loving each other very much.”

“You grow weak in your age Halfdan.”

He tensed.“Say that again.”

“Are you scared you won’t last the night anymore? You’ll cum just looking at me?”

He quickly turned me around to face him, pushing me against a nearby wall.“You think I can’t fuck you all night? Afraid I won’t be able to make you scream my name until your throat is hoarse, and make your legs shake so much that you can’t walk the day? You don’t think I can kiss every inch of your body, making you squirm so much that you just beg me to take you? You know how you look the next day, marked by me so everyone knows what we did the night before, and everyone know how good I can fuck you?”

Although I could feel myself getting wetter, the stubborn part of me wanted to keep us this act, because when Halfdan was riled up, the sex was on another level.“Halfdan, I need to get ready.”

The shit eating grin that had slowly formed on his face as he teased me instantly disappeared. He was pissed off. Slowly moving away from me, his fingers lingered in mine.

“R-right.” he mumbled.

“I’ll be as quick as I can. Go, I’m sure the thralls have everything ready for you too.” I pecked him on the lips before ushering him out, becoming giddy at the thought of us fucking later.

With a smile on my face the entire time I was getting ready, I caught the thralls exchanging looks, they knew what was coming tonight. I felt slightly bad for them, they couldn’t escape the noise we created. But Halfdan and I had never been afraid for other’s to know how much we loved each other.

Surprisingly, Halfdan didn’t try anything on the way to the hall. He knew I wasn’t giving in so easily. We greeted Harald upon our arrival, who was already in the midst of a group of friends. Guests were trickling in, we were just on time. Harald’s smile beamed as he spotted us, arms opening for a rough, manly hug with his brother, before gently embracing me with a light kiss on both cheeks. Our thralls added his gifts to the growing pile as we were handed drinks, starting off the night that was sure to end well.

“Brother, you seem tense this evening. You have your beautiful wife beside you, what could you be upset about?” Harald laughed as we sat at the head table, just finished with our elaborate feast.

“No I am not.” Halfdan poorly defended himself.

“Speaking of wives,” I interrupted, leaning across my husband, hand resting on his thigh,“shouldn’t you be down there dancing with eligible young ladies?”

Harald cleared his throat.“Well, I’m not much of a dancer-”

“Nonsense! You need to find yourself a wife! They’re all dying for you to even glance in their direction. And if you don’t find someone tonight, it’s your birthday, you should be having fun.”

He grinned at me.“Well, if you insist. It is my birthday after all.”

I laughed as my brother-in-law practically ran down to the gaggle of women in the room, seeing him manage to convince one to dance with him. The music was upbeat, a lot of people were now dancing, the alcohol in their systems giving them more confidence. They were singing as they danced, laughing the whole time. Looking at Halfdan, you wouldn’t think you were at a cheerful celebration. He noticed me suppressing my laugh, but when his foul eyes darted to look at me, I couldn’t contain it any longer. Heads still turned to look at me as I laughed, despite the volume of the music.

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself.” Halfdan spat.

I struggled to speak, talking between laughs.“Yes...I really am...I’m sorry my love....but your face!”

He just scoffed at me, downing the rest of his drink.

“Oh Halfdan, you grow grumpy with age.” I leaned over, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Now you call me old.”

I hummed, slowly sliding my hand across his thigh.“You are so tense, as if you were made of stone.”

“I will not play your games.”

“That’s shame.” I lowly said, rubbing my hand on the inside of his leg, moving further upwards.“I can always stop if you want.”

He took in a shaky breath, looking out at the crowd dancing. I placed my hand on top of his crotch, grabbing him firmly through his trousers, enjoying it as he closed his eyes. I moved myself to sit on his lap, nothing out of the ordinary, there were many couples doing just the same. With one arm still working on his crotch, and the other wrapped around the back of his neck, I started to kiss him. Halfdan took no time in grabbing my arse, trying to pull me closer to start grinding on him. Using my dress skirts to cover his lap, I used that to hide my hand disappearing into his trousers. Halfdan’s head tilted back as I gripped onto him, working him like I know I could and how he liked it. His moans were quiet, he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, though I could tell he was starting to struggle.

As my pace sped up, and his body began tensing up even more, I kissed him one last time before completely stopping, even standing up to expose his hard member. He rustled with his trousers, glaring at me as I started to walk away. I managed to make it outside before he grabbed me.

“You think you can just leave me unfinished and exposed like that?!” he snapped.

“I just did.”

“All day with this foolery! Well it stops right now.”

He laced his fingers with mine, dragging me away from the hall, and I started to get excited until I realised we were headed towards the stables. I ripped my arm away from him, holding up my arms as he tried to grab me again.

“You are not fucking me in a smelly stable, we are going home to our bed.” I sternly demanded.

“I cannot wait that long.” he growled.

“Halfdan, I’m not a whore. I’m your wife and you’ll do well to remember that.”

As soon as the last word left my lips, I stormed off in the direction of our home, smirking when Halfdan let out a loud groan. But he soon caught up to me, holding my hand again, kissing it to try and get me on his good side. When he saw my lips twitching up into a smile, he grinned, pulling me along, urging my feet to go faster.

We ran through our home to our bedroom, and I was immediately pushed against the door, Halfdan’s fingers already working to untie my dress. Having done it so many times before, it easily fell off my shoulders, causing me to shiver at the sudden coldness that hit my skin. Halfdan’s hands were warm as he ran them down my body, squeezing my breasts before travelling further down. One arm wrapped around my waist as his other hand started to rub my clit, slowly circling it. I let out a breathy mouth, already rotating my hips against him. His hand on my waist gripped me, it kept me in place as he slipped in a finger, despite wanting to write against him. As he entered another finger, he got onto his knees, driving his face in between my legs, his tongue working with his fingers to pleasure me. I gripped onto his hair as my knees buckled, trying to keep myself standing.

Whining as he stopped and got back onto his feet, my mouth dropped open as he licked his fingers in front of me.“Get on the bed.”

I moved instantly, sitting on the edge of it. He kept eye contact with me as he stalked over, his steps agonisingly slow. Knowing how this usually goes, I started to spread my legs for him, about to move back onto my elbows when he stopped me. I was looking up at him through my eyelashes, knowing what he wanted. It was my turn to undress him now. As he removed his shirt, I unbuckled his trousers again, pulling them down as I cast my eyes on his dick It was still hard, and I took him into my mouth as he grabbed the back of my head, tugging at my hair like I had done to him. I moaned around him, using my hands to take what was left of him as he pushed my head back and forth on his dick. I used to struggle to take him on with my mouth, but after so much practice, I could do it whenever I wanted to please my husband without hesitation.

Removing his hands from the back of my head, I took in a big breath of air as I pulled away from him, wiping away the saliva around my mouth. I didn’t want him to cum in my mouth, I wanted him to cum inside of me. He pushed me onto my back, flipping me onto my front. I raised my arse in the air for him, spreading my legs and reaching through them to touch myself. He hated when I did that, only he wanted to pleasure me. Grabbing onto my arse cheeks, he used his dick to tease my clit, sliding it along it and using my wetness to soak him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.” he growled.“You deserve this, you’re going to be screaming, begging for me to stop because it’s too much, but I’ll keep going until I’ve cum inside you.”

“Please...” I said,“please Halfdan, I want you inside of me.”

I felt the head at my entrance, he slowly slid inside of me, both of us moaning at how each other felt. Halfdan wasted no time, starting to thrust into me, hard and slow at first before getting faster and faster. His fingers made my skin sting as he gripped at it, pulling me back and forth harshly. At one point he stopped, pushing my knees together to make me even tighter.

“Fuck, Halfdan!” I cried out, head shoved into the bed as I clung onto the furs beneath me.“You’re so good!”

He slapped my arse.“You feel so good! Shit, I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet.” I managed to say, somehow crawling away from him.

I already missed the feeling him inside of me. Moving further up the bed, I rolled onto my back, opening my legs for him. He climbed onto the bed, lining himself up with me again. Halfdan laid on top, kissing me as he slid inside again, his fast pace picking up again. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pined my arms down. It was intense, he was looking down at me as he continued to fuck me. I held eye contact with him for as long as I could, but the pleasure was all too much. As I got close, I threw my head back, crying out his name. He cried out as he came inside of me, but kept thrusting to finish me off. Sitting up, he put my legs over his shoulders, reaching down to rub my clit to send me over the edge. My legs shook as I came, screaming out his name one last time.

He gently lowered my legs, enjoying how much they were still shaking and how sensitive everything felt. He laid beside me, pulling me close to him and kissing me softly.

“That was fucking amazing.” I breathed out, cuddling close to him.

“You’ve been bad today, on purpose.” he smirked.

“Yes.” I giggled.“But isn’t the sex worth it?”

He reluctantly smiled.“Yes.”

“I like teasing you. Have you noticed I’ve got better over the years?”

“Indeed you have. but you learnt from the best. Look at you, you’re still shaking.”

He cupped me, and I winced, clutching onto his arm.“Yes. Just a few more minutes.”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t think that was it did you?”

“Oh, there’s more?”

“Tut tut Halfdan. You grow tired in your old age.”

He suddenly straddled me again.“I’ll show you old age.”

208 notes · View notes

kim-miri · 3 years

Text

HALF(have a little fun) pt. ix

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part nine / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence, minor angst

» a/n: short chapter D:! edit: i’ve tried and tried but it just doesn’t flow right when i try to make this into an x reader:// HALF will be an oc fic and i’ve decided to cut the backstory here;( thanks for the love and support!

» word count: 2,494

☾ix. pt. ix: youth

3 months later

Loud, bass-bumping music and too many flashing lights fueled the exhilaration and excitement of one of the biggest night clubs in Yorknew City.

Sayomi had defeated her second opponent on the 200th floor with the help of Hisoka’s training earlier today, making this little outing a sad excuse for a celebration.

In reality, Hisoka just wanted to see whether Sayomi could dance or not.

He had insisted they go out and experience the nightlife the city had to offer, and with Sayomi still upbeat from her match, they found themselves sneaking into Octagon- a hip club located in the heart of Yorknew City.

Though technically Hisoka was 21 and therefore could have gone about this in an easier way, he insisted they sneak in ‘just for the fun of it’. The truth was that he’d been kicked out of the club previously after using his ‘magic tricks’ to make people’s arms disappear, but it made his intrusion all the more fun.

As Hisoka watched the floor from his spot at the bar with a drink held loosely in one hand, Sayomi was currently lost in a crowd of passionate clubbers, her violet eyes gleaming with the thrill of the environment.

The black and silver dress she wore highlighted her figure as well as electrifying eyes and hair, the metallic material dazzling under the club lights as she lost herself in the music and people.

She was letting herself go for the night like she often did on her chaotic trips to the city with Hisoka. Free from repressive parents or a fight for her life, Sayomi was at peace with her new life, expressing herself however she wanted to.

Draining the rest of his Cosmopolitan, Hisoka’s eyes shifted to the young assassin, his face remaining expressionless as he watched her draw a crowd with her alluring glow.

He’d been staring so intensely he didn’t even notice a man take the seat next to him. The sound of the man’s voice established his presence, yet Hisoka’s line of sight ceased to drift from the girl with the bright silver hair.

“A stunner isn’t she?”

Hisoka blinked slowly, hardly registering the man’s words. A stunner indeed, but what more? “A pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty soul.”

The man laughed, setting his drink down on the bar to face Hisoka. “I take it she isn’t yours then? That’s a relief.”

Hisoka rested his chin in the palm of one of his finely manicured hands, his other tapping on the smooth surface of the bar impatiently. He couldn’t seem to figure out why his bloodlust was seeping through as he followed Sayomi with his eyes.

His? She could never belong to any man, she was her own person.

“Careful with your words there, I’d hate for them to be your last.” His words were venomous, filled with the intent to kill.

Hisoka’s nails had cut through the skin of his own cheek, his other hand clenched into a fist on the bar’s surface.

The man had shifted away from him, quietly taking his leave as he watched crimson seep down Hisoka’s pale fingers.

Over the past 3 months, he’d been able to fight her more than enough times, and now he no longer felt the same intoxicating feeling when he was with her. Sayomi never fought Hisoka to hurt him, only with the intentions of improving her own skills, which in turn left Hisoka aching for more.

However, as the days progressed he was slowly coming to the conclusion that the Zoldyck girl had an undeniable flaw. She doesn’t put up a fight when I’m with her.

He was losing interest in the girl who’d once swayed his unshakable feelings, and it distressed him that he almost felt bad for wanting to leave her behind.

His sharpened fingernails dug farther into the pale skin of his cheek as he watched Sayomi throw her slender arms around a man she’d only just met.

She was laughing and smiling, her silky voice seeming to reach his ears through the music and cheers from where he sat. Loud and clear, the sound of her laughter rang through Hisoka’s head in an almost painful way.

She was becoming a weakness to the man who believed himself to be the strongest, and that didn’t sit right with him at all.

☾ix.

Sayomi wasn’t too sure of what exactly it was that she felt towards Hisoka.

When he took her to dinner with an amazing view or complimented her progress with training, she couldn’t tell whether it was her lack of social contact or actual feelings that led her heart to race when she saw his face.

It didn’t help that on some days she could notice the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, only to leave her heart stinging with his harsh words on other days.

He was taking mixed signals to the next level, playing with her feelings while he was trying to figure out his own.

It was selfish and cruel, falsely gaining the trust of someone who’d been through so much betrayal, all for his own entertainment.

But that was just who Hisoka was, he didn’t care for distractions or hindrances. And as fast as he’d first fallen for the young assassin, he was already in the process of making himself forget her.

He was moving on.

☾ix.

3 months later

It was the day after Sayomi’s 7th match on the 200th floor of Heaven’s Arena. She’d been scheduling her fights randomly, with no regard for who her opponents would be.

With 7 wins under her name, she only needed 3 more to challenge a floor master.

However, with her longtime goal fast approaching, she wasn’t as happy as she thought she’d be.

It’d been about half a year since Sayomi had first met Hisoka, and all the excitement and jitters about spending time alone with a guy had died down.

It’d also helped that for some reason Hisoka was rather occupied recently. He rarely took her out to the city, claiming he had other business to attend to, and when they did go out, he’d always turn in first mumbling that he was tired.

Sayomi was no fool, she knew that Hisoka was either losing interest in her as well or felt his job was almost through. To herself, she hoped that it was the former, for it would hurt less than to find out he’d only been around her for business purposes.

Regardless, Sayomi’s current situation was puzzling. She stood waiting for what seemed like forever in front of Hisoka’s room, ready to go out and train.

However, after knocking more than enough times and even calling his cell, there was no sign of her trainer.

That’s odd.

Sayomi trained on her own that day, taking it upon herself to get strength training in at the gym.

It was the first time she’d spent an entire day without Hisoka since they’d started training. Deciding that he was out on his so-called ‘business’, Sayomi shrugged away his absence, going to sleep early for the first time in a while.

Yet, another day passed with no sign of the magician, and Sayomi began to grow concerned for his well-being. What if he was picked off by someone? No, he’s too strong to lose to anyone here… Did he pass out in his room?

Sayomi walked briskly to Hisoka’s room with a worried mind.

Once again there was no response to her knocking, and she decided she’d break into the room.

Using one of her longer needles, she picked the lock in no time, stepping into the unfamiliar room.

It was empty. Only the faint smell of bubble gum and something sweet lingered in the abandoned room, the closet and space empty.

There was a note left on the cleanly made bed, the red ink standing out from the otherwise white sheets surrounding the note.

That lazy ass, of course he’d leave a note in his own room.

Picking up the sheet, she read:

Zoldyck-

It’s about time you sneak into my room, I know you’ve thought about doing it before;)

But jokes aside…

I’m sorry, darling.

It’s not like me to apologize(you can ask Kite)and that alone scared me, because I feel like you’ve changed me. Your smile and intoxicating eyes make me weak in the knees…

And I despise myself for it.

I’m not sure why I’ve chosen to expose my faults to you, for that just makes you all the more dangerous to me.

But perhaps I want you to hold my weaknesses, and perhaps I’d like to see you come tear me apart. Yes, that must be it.

I’ve departed Yorknew City to meet up with your twin brother, as it seems as though he’s been searching for you. And perhaps I should have taken him to you instead, but I’m not, because when the time is right I’d like you all to myself.

So don’t forgive me, Sayomi. Resent me, grow stronger, and when the time comes I’ll bring your brother back to you.

Ah, and there is one thing I’d always wanted to tell you…

I always thought that you were most beautiful when you showed your true colors-

A cold-blooded, cold-hearted Zoldyck assassin with no regard for the pain and suffering of your victims.

Stop holding yourself back, people like us can be forgiven for our sins because of the hell we’ve been put through.

-Hisoka

☾ix.

A single tear rolled down Sayomi’s cheek.

And that was all.

The flurry of sudden information rendered Sayomi breathless as she tried to make sense of his words.

This idiot really just admitted his feelings for me after all this time right when he decides to leave me here. Selfish bastard.

And he knows Illumi… but how? Illumi was looking for me?

I have to become a floor master and get that clown to bring my brother back.

☾ix.

6 months later

Sayomi gazed out her window with a blank stare, 241 floors above the ground.

Just a week ago she’d claimed her spot on the 241st floor as the newest and youngest Floor Master at age 19.

She knew Hisoka would find out about her achievement soon, and all she could do now was wait.

Up until defeating and killing her last opponent, time had flown by easily. She was fueled by the goal of finding her brother and confronting Hisoka, but now that she was here, the loneliness began to sink in.

Kite and his student had taken off to another country in search of wildlife to study, leaving Sayomi all alone in Yorknew City.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of her situation. Here she was at the top of the tallest building in Yorknew City, a place that others died trying to get to, yet she was unsatisfied.

Her face and name were plastered on billboards and posters all throughout the city, and citizens stood envious of the young teen’s life. She had enough money that she’d never have to work another day in her life, but in exchange she no longer had a family to accept her nor friends to laugh with.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, there’s plenty of others that have it worse.

Sayomi sighed as she turned away from the window, grabbing her mask she’d started using as a floor master to attempt to conceal her identity.

I won’t have challengers for another month or so… might as well hit the city.

☾ix.

Sayomi walked through the dark streets of Yorknew City, her hands clasped behind her head and her eyes vacant.

She didn’t have a destination in mind, just mindlessly strolling through the city covered with news of her promotion to Floor Master. There were citizens recognizing her as well, pointing and jumping back as if she were some monster.

Though she couldn’t blame them, as her nen happened to be on the disturbing side. The replays of her fights were mostly censored, deemed too inhumane for the public eye as they played on repeat on the sides of buildings,

She wasn’t too sure how far she’d walked, spotting Heaven’s Arena rather far in the distance behind her. The shops and glamorous hotels began to fade as she approached the run down parts of Yorknew City.

It was an abandoned lot of buildings, the ground littered with oil cans and shattered glass. In a way it was tranquil, free from angry drivers and the revolted gaze of commoners.

Walking through an opening in the wired fences that surrounded the lot, Sayomi wandered through a certain building that’d caught her eye.

She felt a faint aura coming from the abandoned office building, but oddly enough it wasn’t hostile or repelling. It was rather comforting.

Sayomi’s curiosity grew as the aura increased, drawing her towards the room located at the far end of the first floor.

She saw the man before she sensed him, his large coat catching her attention. His back was turned to her crouched down on the dusty floor, the windows adjacent to him shattered, letting the pale moonlight reflect off of his coat.

St. Peter’s cross. Interesting taste in fashion…

Another careless step closer and the man’s head turned abruptly in her direction. Sayomi had ducked behind a wall, but not fast enough.

The man stood from his spot, revealing a vibrant patch of violets by his feet. Upon his loss in concentration, the flowers wilted, withering back into the cluttered floor as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Sayomi could see the man’s face from where she crouched, hidden by a barely intact wall. Her heart skipped a beat upon meeting his eyes, deep gray and captivating as he easily identified her from her hiding spot.

It felt as if time was frozen in place, the young man staring intensely into Sayomi’s eyes as if he could read her mind.

Sayomi was unmoving as well, having been caught examining his figure from behind the wall. He was by far the most appealing man she’d ever seen, his dark, raven hair slicked back to reveal a tattoo decorating the middle of his forehead, contrasting with his gentle eyes and youthful facial features.

Handsome, she thought.

The man took a slight step forward, snapping Sayomi out of his hypnotizing gaze as she sped off jumping through an empty window and out of the building.

Though she was eager to know what he’d been doing with the flowers, his aura had changed when he’d noticed her watching. It had been dangerous and intense, a total opposite of his warm and placid one when dealing with the violets.

Her quick steps transitioned into a run, feeling the need to distance herself from the lingering intensity of the mysterious young man’s aura.

She ran back towards the towering building of Heaven’s Arena, not stopping her pace a bit until she was met with the familiar neon signs and billboards that surrounded the heart of Yorknew City.

Her dreams were taken over by the man’s captivating eyes that night. His familiar aura had seemed to beckon her to him, as if she’d known him for 100 years prior.

But no matter how hard she thought that night, she couldn’t come up with an answer as to what he’d been doing with the violets conjured by his feet.

In her dreams she saw her own eyes within the vibrant flowers, it was an abstract thought, though for a second she wondered if he had meant for her to see them.

She quickly dismissed this, however, scoffing at the absurdity of her own thoughts.

What am I, a child? I must be beyond lonely if I think some random guy has something to do with me.

Though deep down inside her heart, she wished it were true. To be fated to somebody, needed by somebody who she could trust with her darkest secrets and love.

☾ix.

to be continued.

89 notes · View notes

pocket-luv101 · 3 years

Text

Summary: After Kuro and Mahiru fight Sloth, they tend to their wounds. (KuroMahi)

Neither Kuro nor Mahiru spoke a word as he carefully applied a salve on the wound he received when he fought Sloth. He wrapped a bandage around his finger. He cradled his hand in his larger one and Mahiru could sense that he was holding back from his touch. They sat on the living room floor and he moved closer to Kuro until their knees bumped together. Mahiru wondered if Kuro would let him sit closer to him.

“I’ve gotten worse cuts while I was learning how to cook so you don’t need to fret over small wounds like this. Everyone teases me that I worry like a housewife or mother. If only they could see us now with the roles reversed.” Mahiru broke the silence with a joke to lighten the atmosphere. “When accidents happened in the past, I had to bandage them myself. It’s nice to have someone who can do this for me.”

“I was the one who caused these injuries. I’m sor—” Before he could apologize, Mahiru placed his hand on his cheek. He gently guided his eyes to meet his gaze and Kuro could see his thoughts behind his soft smile. He didn’t resent him for the fight. Mahiru was the most compassionate person he knew yet Kuro had to admit that he was worried his monstrous form would scare him.

“I don’t want to hear you say sorry. If there’s something you want to tell me, it should be a thank you.”

“You really like to boss this cat around, don’t you? Troublesome.” Kuro’s words were followed by a light chuckle and Mahiru knew it was merely a joke. Then, he whispered: “Thank you for saving me.”

He finished bandaging his fingers but he didn’t take his hand back. His touch lingered over his palm. At first glance, Mahiru’s fingers were long and slender but Kuro knew how strong they were. He had saved him countless times by simply holding out his hand to him. During the fight, Mahiru called his name and it broke through Sloth’s control. Kuro managed to stop Sloth long enough for Mahiru to pull the rose from his chest to claim his power. Unfortunately, taking the rose injured his hands slightly.

“Thanks for treating my wounds like a caring housewife.” Mahiru teased him with the nickname Kuro would often use for him. He did his best to act casual with him even as his heart was racing. Throughout their short time in London, it helped Mahiru realize the feelings he had for months. He loved Kuro. “Your fight with Sloth was mostly within your inner world but were you hurt? I’ll treat your wounds.”

“My body feels sore from the transformation but I’m pretty sure I don’t have any broken bones.” Kuro reassured him and he stretched his arms above his head to show him that he wasn’t hurt. The movement caused him to wince and Mahiru frowned at him. He took the first aid kit from him and he pulled out a few supplies. He didn’t know if the wound was a slash or something else. Hopefully, he wasn’t hurt badly and he could tend to it with a first aid kit.

“Take off your shirt so I can see where you’re hurt. You need to tell me if you’re injured, Kuro.” Mahiru could predict what he would say next and he stopped him by tenderly squeezing his hand. “Don’t brush it off because you’re a vampire and you heal quicker than me. I’m going to worry about you no matter what. This will go faster if you let me help you.”

“I’m sure it’s just a bruise.” Kuro didn’t expect Mahiru to close the space between them. He sat on his lap and they were close enough for their noses to brush together. Still, Mahiru leaned closer to him and he grabbed the buttons of his jacket. His brown hair brushed against Kuro’s skin as he did so. The light touch made his heart jump and he backed away to hide his blush.

With Mahiru on his lap, they inadvertently fell to the ground together with him sprawled on Kuro’s chest. He sat up and his first worry was that he had landed on his wound and agitated it further. Then their gaze met and he forgot everything but the red hue of his eyes. Kuro would often keep his emotions guarded behind a disinterested expression. Yet, there was something alluring in his eyes that held him spellbound.

Mahiru pushed himself up slightly and he looked down at Kuro. “It was painful for you to stretch your arms but you’re fine after I fell on you. Was it your arms that were hurt in the fight?”

Kuro didn’t answer him. He was certain he couldn’t tell him that he never felt hurt with him. He wasn’t hurt when he fell on him and he only thought of how he felt in his embrace. Mahiru had been the one to take away the pain of his guilt and so much more. Instead, he cupped Mahiru’s cheek in his hand and he ran his thumb over his smooth skin. He thought of how soft his hands also were as he bandaged him.

“What are you two doing on the floor?” Gear’s voice pulled them out of the moment and they jumped apart. He walked into the living room and he noticed the way they were blushing. Mahiru stood and he excused himself to make a bag of ice for Kuro’s bruise. He was careful not to meet either of their eyes as he left the room. He was scared they would be able to see his feelings for Kuro. He didn’t know if he felt the same so he thought it was best to wait until they defeated Tsubaki to confess to him.

He went into the kitchen and left Kuro and Gear alone. Kuro watched him walk away and he stared at the door even after he disappeared around the corner. He only looked away after he felt Gear lightly slap the ears of his coat. He gave him an irritated glare and said, “I thought you were resting after the battle, Gear. Did you come down just to bully this poor kitty?”

“How could anyone sleep with your two flirting on the floor beneath my bedroom?” Gear countered. Neither of them was offended by the other’s sarcastic tone because they had been friends for centuries. That time also allowed Gear to see the effect Mahiru had on his friend. “I heard you were worried about the thorn pricks on Mahiru’s hand. They’ll heal in a day or so. I brought something that could help him though.”

“Thanks.” He said as he placed a small jar next to him. “Humans are fragile.”

“It hurts to lose them so we have to protect them.” Gear nodded in agreement but he also added, “They’re strong too. You’ve changed since the last time we’ve spoken. You faced me and Sloth in the rose. Mahiru’s strength must’ve rubbed off on you. You should confess to him with that new courage you have.”

“I will.” Kuro whispered the vow to himself.

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

the nie sect is known for strong, angry sect leaders and strong, angry women; nie mingjue is just the first to be both. she refuses to let this burden fall on her little brother, who is far too young for it (he's barely old enough to understand that their father is dead, and still sucks his thumb at night)--she can swing a saber like the best of them, and, well... it's not like there are many nie elders to object anyway

also on ao3

The stories said that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a goddess.

They said she descended down from the mountains, crisp as a winter breeze and tall as a temple statute; they said Lao Nie fell in love with her the first moment he saw her and married her the next; they said that the heavens were jealous of their love and summoned her to return –

It was a little nicer than saying that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a rogue cultivator that lingered in Qinghe just long enough for a marriage ceremony and a baby before remembering that she preferred living alone.

Still, as Nie Mingjue grew up – and she did grow up, up and up and up – people started passing around the old story more and more. Lao Nie rolled his eyes but didn’t stop the rumors, which Nie Mingjue interpreted to mean that he thought they were useful somehow, though she never quite figured out the reasoning there. What difference did it make if she were the child of a goddess or a mortal woman?

Either way, she was still a girl.

Oh, Qinghe was famous for its indifference to such things: in Qinghe they don’t care if you’re a man or woman, the story went, as long as you can swing a saber, and it was even mostly true. No one would raise an eyebrow if you shared your bed with a man one night and a woman the next, no one cared if you said you were one for a week and the other for a month…

Still, for all of Qinghe’s indifference, the Nie sect had never had a female sect leader.

At least, not officially – there were a number of sect leader’s wives who were terrifying enough to have deserved the title – and officially was what mattered, in this case. The sect leader was the fulcrum on which the sect turned, the core of their fearsome cultivation: if water ran downhill, then evil flowed up, and the sect leader’s saber spirit was always by far the fiercest in the sect.

That was why Nie Mingjue’s ancestors died so much more quickly than her cousins – why she had plenty of great-uncles and great-aunts, and a family consisting of only her father, herself, and her younger brother.

“Do you not want me to be sect leader?” she asked her father once, because he had deliberately gone out and gotten himself a new wife to have a child with, showing great relief when it turned out to be a boy. “Is it something I’ve done, or haven’t done?”

“It’s not that,” her father had said at once, with such surety that her fears of inadequacy had been relieved. “It’s only – there are sacrifices that must be made, if the sect leader is a woman. A saber spirit powerful enough to support the sect cannot be allowed to escape.”

She hadn’t understood it at the time, being too young, but then she got a little older and started bleeding, and an old auntie came and told her why the bleeding mattered.

The sect leader’s saber was too strong, too fierce, too alive: full of resentful energy, almost like a ghost, hateful and vicious, and their bond with their master was too close. Normal swords could be used by anyone; only the powerful refused any hand but their masters – the powerful, and the Nie sabers.

A sect leader who was a woman could never have a child, lest that child’s soul be stolen away in the womb and replaced with something else.

“So I won’t have children,” Nie Mingjue said, when her father died before his time. “Easy enough.”

There were elders enough in her sect, those that had been lucky enough not to be part of the main clan line and to escape the burden of being sect leader; they looked at each other with concern.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t about to let them put the title of sect leader on Huaisang, then only a child of seven, not when there was her father to avenge, and so she reached up behind her back and brought Baxia down on the table in front of them, cleaving the old wooden table in half.

“I have the bloodline, and my saber’s strong enough to bear the strain,” she said while they stared: that table had survived more than a few of her father and grandfather’s strikes, only to yield to hers as if it were nothing. “If you want to protest, challenge me now.”

In the end, they didn’t.

And so she became sect leader.

The sacrifice of any future children turned out to be the easy part.

Jin Guangshan stared at her breasts whenever she sat across from him, and tried to stumble into her to take advantage of the fact that the top of his head only reached her chin; she made sure never to accept any invitation to ever be alone with him, especially when he was drunk. His wife glared at her as if it were her fault that her chest and hips had grown proportionate with the rest of her, giving her curves that were relatively rare among her countrymen.

Jiang Fengmian might have been all right, she supposed, if his wife hadn’t hated her nearly as much: Madame Yu had been childhood friends with Madame Jin, Nie Mingjue vaguely recalled, but she suspected the real reason was the Jiang sect’s inclination to keep women away from politics no matter how high their cultivation.

“How are you supposed to ‘attempt the impossible’ if you refuse to let half of your population even try?” she asked Jiang Fengmian once, and he just shook his head and tried to pat her head (she glared death at him until he retracted the offending limb before it could be chopped off), and said she wouldn’t understand, that Qinghe was too idiosyncratic, too indiscriminate, that other places were different.

(His daughter gave Nie Mingjue a flower after that meeting, blushing red to her ears, and followed it up with a bowl of soup, and to this day Nie Mingjue still didn’t know if it was because of what she’d said or if everyone in Yunmeng was just as indiscriminate as Qinghe and they just didn’t admit it to themselves.)

Even the ever-polite Lan sect wasn’t friendly.

The irritating part was that she was sure they would have gotten on well if she had been born a man, or at least presented as one, as she would have if she’d been a misaligned reincarnation; alas, she wasn’t, she was a woman, and the Lan sect rules dictated that men and women could not grow too close or intimate. Lan Qiren guarded his nephews against her as if they were treasures, and it took quite a while before she finally met Lan Xichen face to face.

“Wow,” he said, blinking at her. “They weren’t kidding when they said you were a goddess.”

“No, that’s my mother,” Nie Mingjue said automatically.

Lan Xichen smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “No,” he said. “I’m sure I meant what I said.”

Nie Mingjue felt something jump in her chest, which had never happened before. But she had fought long and hard to be taken seriously as a sect leader despite her youth and her gender, and she wasn’t willing to give that up by falling, like every other female cultivator her age, for the man ranked first on the list of most attractive young masters.

(Nie Mingjue was ranked seventh. She’s not even sure how she got on the list, but apparently there were plenty of female cultivators who were happy to vote for her no matter her gender.)

Besides, even if her heart did beat a little faster whenever Lan Xichen smiled at her, and even if he indicated through some hints that he might be inclined to feel the same, it didn’t matter. She knew, even if he didn’t, that she wouldn’t bear children in this life – she loved Baxia dearly, she did, but her willful, vicious saber would make a terrible child – and she couldn’t impose that on anyone else.

Anyway, she’d figured out pretty quickly that Lan Xichen’s younger brother was a cutsleeve – whatever Lan Qiren might think, pornography was a perfectly reasonable gift for a teenager, especially given how successful Nie Huaisang’s side business was – and that meant Lan Xichen had to be the one to have descendants.

Nie Mingjue had heard all the stories about what happens when a man marries one woman who can’t give him children and another who can, and she wasn’t interested in that.

So they were friends.

She wasn’t sure if it got easier or harder when she met Meng Yao, who was small and delicate and scheming in a way that she found ridiculously endearing.

He wasn’t expecting her to be a woman, she thought: he’d set himself up on a mountain path, buckets of water at his side and a pitiful expression on his face as he chewed on hard bread without even taking a sip of the water right beside him to wet his throat, and when she’d stopped right in front of him to ask him about it he’d looked up at her and his eyes had gotten to be half the size of his face.

Nie Mingjue might’ve fallen for the gambit if it wasn’t for the way she could almost see the way he was rapidly reevaluating his entire strategy in real time – it almost made her nostalgic about listening to her cousins teach each other the warning signs of a white lotus seductress selling misery and purity.

Still, in the end it didn’t really matter if he was deliberately exaggerating his misery to sell it to her – the responsibility for good behavior was on the bully, not the victim, so she went and scolded the people inside the cave.

Afterwards, she took him out to walk with her.

“I’d already spoken with some people about you; it seems like you’ve established your merits in the battlefield and off,” she told him. “You don’t also need to be pitiful to get my attention.”

Meng Yao smiled self-depreciatingly. “I find that men have a soft spot for people they think need them.”

“Well, I’m not a man, am I?” she pointed out in return. She thought about it for a moment, then decided, as always, to be blunt. “I might spend most of my time now with men, but I spent my childhood with women; a woman’s tricks don’t work that well on me. What is it that you want?”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do you want to be my deputy? I’m willing, since you seem competent enough,” she said. “But if your goal is to get back into your father’s good graces by reporting on me, don’t bother. He has spies enough for that – he doesn’t need a son to do it.”

“Perhaps I just want to show him what I’m capable of,” Meng Yao said.

Nie Mingjue laughed. “At my side? If you’d like to try, I’m not going to stop you, but I’ll tell you now that the merits that Jin Guangshan values may not be to your taste.”

She made him her deputy, and he lived up to her expectations – he was efficient, capable, competent. He was good at understanding people, which she wasn’t, and he could figure out within moments what any given person wanted. Just as importantly, he lived up to the principles she prized, valuing the lives of the common folk as well as Nie cultivators; he did what she asked of him, and he did it well.

It would be a shame to lose him, she thought, but she still brought him with her to a wartime meeting with the Jin sect.

Afterwards, she made her excuses to leave early, as she always did, and when Meng Yao showed up later that evening to drop off the usual round of spies’ reports, Nie Mingjue could smell blood from where his nails had pierced his palms.

“He asked you if you were fucking me,” she said, accepting the papers. It wasn’t a guess. “You can tell him that you are, if you think it would help your standing with him.”

Meng Yao seemed repulsed by her suggestion, which amused her.

“Don’t you mind that half the camp thinks I got my position by climbing into your bed?” he asked her, a wrinkle in his brow suggesting that the question mattered to him. “Most of them can’t decide if I’m your boy-toy or merely stupid enough not to notice that I’m deliberately seducing you for my own ends, but either way the implication is highly unflattering. Don’t you care?”

“…not really?” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve been sect leader since I was fifteen and more than half the sect leaders that currently report to me have been treating me like I’m a walking collection of fuckable female body parts since then; they get extremely irritable any time I open my mouth and remind them I’m not. Keeping a boy-toy is positively tame compared to the rest of it…you must have heard the one that says that I’m a frigid bitch that can only be satisfied by fucking my saber? That one’s a perennial.”

Meng Yao’s expression suggested he had, in fact, heard that one.

“My father always told me that the more people talk behind your back, the harder you have to work to leave them with nothing to say,” Nie Mingjue continued. “But I’ve found that they’ll find something to say, and if there isn’t anything, they’ll make something up. There’s no way to stop gossip.”

Meng Yao was frowning. “That seems unduly pessimistic. Not to borrow our enemies’ words, but if you shine like a sun in the heavens –”

“I’m the sect leader of one of the Great Sects,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m a war hero. I have a reputation as a upright and righteous person. And yet between me and Wen Ruohan, who’s to say whose name is dragged through the mud more? They curse at him as the man who ordered the rape of their wives in one breath and talk eagerly about how much they’d like to rape me the next…Meng Yao, don’t take insult when I say this, but you could be as wise as a sage, as powerful as a landslide, as beneficent as a buddha and they’d still ask each other behind their sleeves what you learned from being a whore’s son.”

His expression was rather ugly – nothing at all like his usual calm smile.

“I usually get over it by associating myself with better people,” she added. “Have you met Lan Xichen yet?”

It turned out he had, and that they were rather fond of each other, too. Very fond, to judge by Meng Yao’s starry-eyed expression, and wouldn’t it be just her luck if the two men she was attracted to – and which she’d refused on the basis of not wanting to cut off their family lines – ended up pairing up together, which would also cut off their family lines?

Of course, Meng Yao was off limits for other reasons as well…

One day she overheard them talking about Meng Yao possibly leaving, probably intentionally on Meng Yao’s part, and she walked inside rolling her eyes already. “If you want to go, go,” she said. “I’ll write you a recommendation letter, for whatever it’s worth – he’s got a thick enough face that it might not do you any good, but he’s already noticed you, so hopefully that’ll be something.”

“Sect Leader Nie –”

“I didn’t promote you out of a sense of gratitude,” she said impatiently. “You’ve always wanted to get back to him, for whatever reason; I’m not going to hold you back.”

He smiled at that, and Lan Xichen smiled with him.

Really, there were limits to the sort of things you could expect a person to resist, even with willpower like hers.

“Have you decided that you will go?” she asked Meng Yao. “Is it your final decision? Let me know now.”

“It is.”

“Good,” she said. “You’re fired as my deputy. Also, I’d like to take the two of you to bed, if you’re similarly inclined.”

They gaped at her.

“What?” she said, crossing her arms. “He’s not my deputy anymore, there’s nothing immoral about it. Besides, nobody will get any stupid ideas about marriage if there’s three of us involved. It is only if you’re interested, though; I won’t be offended if you say no –”

Lan Xichen was kissing her before she even finished the sentence, so she assumed the answer was not, in fact, no, and Meng Yao’s reaction was equally enthusiastic – though perhaps equally wasn’t the right word, given how both she and Meng Yao ended up tied up in Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon before the night was done.

“I knew it was a kink,” Meng Yao said, inspecting it with an expression of satisfaction, as if he hadn’t just demonstrated a fair share of his own. “Something so prominently displayed, Xichen-gege, for shame…”

Lan Xichen didn’t show so much as a hint of shame about it. “We’ll have to do this again,” he said. “I’m not even a fourth of the way down my list.”

“There’s a list?” Nie Mingjue asked, stretching out her legs to see how they felt after all that tossing around. “Tell me this is written down somewhere – no, tell me your uncle found it.”

Lan Xichen shuddered. “Thank you, da-jie. I didn’t need that mental image – it’d be like the time you gave Wangji pornography, only worse.”

Meng Yao decided the best way to muffle his laughter was in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. With his teeth.

Nie Mingjue gave him a half-hearted shove. “Get off,” she grumbled. “I need to go drink some medicine to prevent contraception before we encounter disaster – this wasn’t planned, you know. I was intending on dying a virgin.”

“Da-jie, for you to die a virgin, that would mean – uh – that would – you were…? Mingjue!”

Nie Mingjue gave them both a glare. “Don’t tell me you two listened to those stupid rumors. I don’t take just anyone to my bed.”

“And you decided on two of us?” Meng Yao said, blinking at her. “Da-jie is very ambitious.”

“Not as much as you,” she said, rolling her eyes and pushing away their grasping hands. “What’s your real plan, anyway? You know Jin Guangshan won’t accept you as a son just because you show up and volunteer.”

“I don’t need to be his son, I just need to wear his colors,” Meng Yao said. “It’ll make for a better story when I defect to the Wen sect – as a spy, don’t look at me like that. You know I’d be good at it. And if I get close enough to Wen Ruohan, I can kill him. I’ll give you his head as a present, da-jie.”

“Unfair, A-Yao! I can’t compete with that,” Lan Xichen complained. “You have to let me help.”

‘Help’ turned out to be Lan Xichen allowing himself to be captured and Meng Yao stabbing Wen Ruohan in the back when he was about to start torturing the First Jade of Lan – Nie Mingjue had a headache and a strong desire to kill them both.

Even if they did bring her Wen Ruohan’s head.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourselves,” she scolded them – both Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, now officially Jin Guangyao (thanks to a bit of pointed haggling over which clan got what war merits and how that applied to the division of the spoils of war), looked positively smug. “What if you’d died?”

“But we didn’t,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “And now we’re here to claim our reward from our goddess.”

“Did I promise you a reward?”

Two sets of puppy dog eyes…and they did help her avenge her father.

“Fine. What do you want? If I can give it to you, it’s yours.”

They looked at each other, and Nie Mingjue immediately started to worry: they’d had time to think about it. That was dangerous.

“We want to marry you,” Lan Xichen said.

“Both of us,” Jin Guangyao said. “To avoid any jealousy.”

“That’s…not how that works,” Nie Mingjue said blankly. Men married multiple wives, not women multiple men: they had words for women who did that, none of them complimentary. Or legal, for that matter. “And anyway, I’ve already told you, I can’t have children. Huaisang’s my heir, and he always will be – you deserve to continue your family lines. Both of you.”

They exchanged looks again.

“That’s fine by me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Jin Zixuan’s the heir anyway.”

“I have plenty of cousins,” Lan Xichen said. “Can we go to bed now? I was injured in the line of duty –” He had a scraped knee and exactly three bruises, she’d counted. “– and I need some care and attention.”

“And an agreement of marriage from da-jie,” Jin Guangyao said, because he had a lawyer’s eye for such things.

This was almost certain to cause some sort of political disaster.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t settle for sworn brothers or something?” she tried.

They wouldn’t.

(The stories said that the leader of the Nie sect was a goddess – a war goddess, a goddess of the blade, sharp as the saber she carried and tall as a temple statute; they said that her two lovers fell in love with her the first moment they saw her and fought a war that upturned the entire cultivation world just to win the right to claim her hand; they said that they served as her right and left hands, and that when the three of them were together, the venerated triad, they could never be defeated.)

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan xichen #meng yao #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #da-jie #Anonymous

497 notes · View notes

demonologist-in-denim · 3 years

Text

One of the Boys!Crowley

After Crowley closes the Gates and joins the Winchesters permanently, no one – not even Crowley himself – knows if he’ll ever complete the cure. He’s “cured” from the demon trials years ago in the sense that the scaring on his soul from his time on the rack and in service to Hell has healed or receded. He is no longer numb to the joy and suffering of others, his own emotions are no longer muted or twisted by his demonic essence. He is reformed in the sense that while he is still a demon, his actions and choices – if not his words – reflect his rising humanity rather than his lingering demonic impulses.

And as the years pass, the longer Hell remains closed, the more his powers diminish. Sometimes, he misses his once-limitless capacity: near-invincibility, conditional immortality, the ability to reshape the world with a snap of his fingers. But there is also something solid and more present, something of worth, in the limited and the temporary. Something beautiful and fragile and beyond value in impermanence. What he does now matters, more than it ever mattered before, because now he has to actually try, and sometimes fail. And when he succeeds, it is because of what Crowley is capable of, rather than the seductive ease of powers and abilities granted him by Hell. His cunning, his intelligence, his will. His own inherent, innate worth. Because he is worthy – of respect, and of love, without the threat or authority of Hell behind him.

Being at least equal portions human and demon doesn’t mean Crowley is vulnerable. If there is one thing Crowley rarely is, rarely allows himself to be, it is vulnerable. Too many centuries and a human life preceding that of vulnerable meaning weak, being used, abused, discarded. Too great an instinct for self-preservation, too much fear of rejection. Too much self-hatred directed at himself for both an unearned feeling of worthlessness and a painful awareness of the sins he’s committed against the world. But there is also a strong desire to be understood, to ignite that spark between himself and others, to feel that connection and sense of belonging. And so occasionally, mostly with Dean, Crowley allows himself to be just that little bit vulnerable, and hope the hunter sees him for who he is, as much as for the better man Crowley wishes he were capable of becoming.

He’s still an arse. He can still be a little too caustic, a little too inconsiderate, and he doesn’t really care if that ruffles some feathers the wrong way. Crowley wouldn’t be himself without his infamous snark and charm, and he never wants to not be himself – just a (slightly) better version of that. He still calls the boys Moose and Squirrel and Feathers, affectionately. Still reserves their names for more tender moments. Still points out all the ways their plans to save the day or the world are stupid, or ill-planned, or self-serving, or likely to jumpstart another apocalypse. Concealing vulnerability and fear of rejection and insecurity about his increasing humanity. He still thinks the Winchesters and Castiel and all their extended family and friends are complete and utter morons, risking their lives for a world that couldn’t care less about them.

None of that means Crowley doesn’t care. Crowley cares, in his opinion, a little too much – he loves, more than he is willing to lose or suffer for that love. He loves with a desperate, dismissive love that takes the shape of exasperated indulgence and affectionate eye rolls, overlooked administrative tasks expertly handled, inserted leaflets into lore and spell books with handwritten corrections, subtle and other times hostile mother-henning, well-mean manipulations and homemade meals. He’s never vocal about his affection, never utters the word love, never says thank you, never dares to say “I’m sorry”. Because he fears saying sorry would show just how small, how insignificant those acts of love were, compared to other, darker acts committed.

Sometimes, Crowley wishes he couldn’t feel the regret and the guilt, the shame that occasionally tempts him to drown himself in good scotch. It’s always there, a dull ache in his second-hand heart. Attempts to justify or rationalize the past as a means of survival, as what brought him here, pale in comparison to the memories of his victims, their screams, the sting of their deserved accusations, the discomfort of their undeserved forgiveness. Things Crowley cannot take back. Things that haunt him. That he’s had to learn how to face, to take responsibility for, to give him the strength and resilience to carry on down this road of redemption. His own past something he can mine and use to help others, guide and protect – save others. No one came for him. No angel fought their way through Hell on divine orders to save Crowley. He was damned, and damaged, and some parts of himself are forever beyond repair. But he can take that damage and do good with it. In his more noble, slightly inebriated moments, Crowley tells himself that’s all there is to it, being this better version of himself. Just wanting to do some good. It has nothing to do with the nightmares and the hellhounds that hunt him from the recesses of his own mind. Or earning the affection of the people he has come to consider family – that have, foolishly, come to consider him family.

Crowley is still Crowley. He is resentful and reluctant, indifferent and dismissive. He’s broken, resigned to being broken, to being a shade too grey to ever be one of the good guys. He’s world-weary and worn, half a soul weaving him threadbare. And Crowley is, ultimately, resilient. He is resolved against his better judgement to give this world – and himself – one last chance. He’s one of the boys, the fourth core member of Team Free Will. And there's work to be done.

#crowley #one of the boys #i know i've said a lot of this before in my fics #especially about Crowley's powers dwindling #but i thought i should write it out #directly and fully #rather than always referencing or alluding to it #in fanfiction #yes this is fandom crowley not canon crowley #its who he could have been #my version of who he could have been #either way either verison #i love him #and he deserved better #he deserved to be loved #happy sulphur saturday

28 notes · View notes

senjuushi · 3 years

Text

Translation: Cutlery’s Fantastic X-Mas

Another translation in very good time! o3o Despite being eleven pages long, I got this done pretty quickly, somehow? It’s hilarious. Nothing like Hokusai shaking a bomb in 89′s face because he doesn’t realize that most other people do care if they die. XD Also, 89′s crush on Mikhael (and tendency to form crushes, in general), is the cutest thing. I love his brief moment of hope...

Also, Cutlery and Kunitomo are two of the Antiques. Don’t mind them.

Episode 2: Strategy on the Eve of Christmas Eve

89: Ugh, it’s cold... I seriously can’t do missions on days like this.

Hokusai: For someone so weak to the cold... Ta-da! A present made special by me, hot-hot bomb number three!

89: The fuck is that blue thing? A tennis ball?

Hokusai: Nein! It contains a particular chemical developed by me~

Hokusai: Just rattle it around, give it a shake, and... amazing~! In the blink of an eye, it gets piping hot! And just like that, I’m nice and warm!

Hokusai: Since it’s still in the prototype phase, every so often, the chemical reaction will increase to an excessive degree, and it’ll explode~ Ahahaha!

89: Damn it, don’t laugh... Tell me that part from the beginning...

. . .

Soldier A: ...hm? Hey, is there no one over that way?

Soldier B: A resident? ...no, can’t be. There aren’t any people left in the ruins of a town like this.

Soldier A: ...ah! He’s escaping! Hold it right there!!

Soldier B: Here he is! This way!

Cutlery: Hah... these guys are persistent. This is bad, but I can’t let myself cause trouble for everyone again—!

Soldier A & B: Aaaah...!

. . .

89: ...hey, what the hell’s that noise?

Soldier A: W-We pursued a... suspicious individual... and... he fought back...

Soldier A: ...th-the enemy has a small-sized gun... A knife...

Hokusai: Uh-oh~ Did he just die?

89: He passed out, that’s all. Anyway, are we supposed to chase that other guy?

Hokusai: Yep, yep, roger~!

89: A small-sized gun... and a knife, huh? I feel like I heard something about that recently...

...maybe I imagined it.

Episode 5: Turn-Around Victory

89: Tch... The snow is so intense, I can hardly follow the footprints in it. This fucking cold shit’s such a pain...

Hokusai: Well, it’s useless to just wander around. I wanna go home and get back to my experiment... and give it another try!

89: Agreed. Let’s hurry up and go home.

Hokusai: ...oh? It looks awfully crowded over there, huh? 89-kun, before we go home, let’s go have a look~!

Hokusai: Woah! So cool! But it for sure loses points for all that red. Prussian blue is best, after all!

89: ...that’s right. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve...

Hokusai: Oh, what’s this~? What’s the matter, 89-kun?

89: Nothing at all.

89: ...ah!

Woman: Aah! I’m so sorry! You’re not hurt, are you?

89: N-No... That much isn’t gonna—

Man: Whoah there! Are you okay, my sweetheart? Here, hold onto my arm. Don’t fall again, alright?

Woman: Hehe, thank you. I love you, darling. ♡

89: ...........

89: Damn it... I hate Christmas bringing out all this gross, sappy shit...! Normies should all go die...! Normie guns too...!

Mikhael: Such a resentful voice right before the holy night... such a lack of peace.

Hokusai: What’s this!? Mikhael-kun! Quite the coincidence to meet you here. What’cha doing?

Mikhael: I came here to decide on Christmas ornaments. Ones to offer to our Master for the upcoming piano reception.

Mikhael: If the venue has an enchanting atmosphere, won’t the guests enjoy it even more?

89: Huh... You’re doing something real refined there, I guess.

Mikhael: Yes, precisely... And these are written invitations for you two. Here you are, 89. Hokusai.

89: Wha...! I-Is that really okay!? Wow, this is insane... A Christmas piano concert....!

Hokusai: Mikhael-kun’s piano, hm? It’s been quite a while since I last heard it, so I’m sure this’ll be fun~

89: ...’kay! For the sake of tomorrow, let’s hurry up and catch this guy who escaped!

Hokusai: Oh, you’re suddenly motivated, aren’t you? Well, we can have a good look around here too. Let’s go~!

Episode 8: A Meeting in the Same Town?

Mikhael: A rose ornament the color of blood in the midst of a pure white mall.

Mikhael: ...yes. This one appears to be quite high-quality. May I have it?

Kunitomo: Of course. Thank you for your business!

Soldier A: Here’s the payment. Please, pack everything up quickly.

Kunitomo: Thank you very much for your payment. I’ll have all of your purchases loaded onto this truck right away~!

Hokusai: Hey, Mikhael-kun. What sort of song are you going to play at the reception?

Mikhael: A requested one, composed by Bach. It’s a classic song for Christmastime.

89: Haah, this is useless. We’ll never find him. Anyway, couldn’t he have just frozen to death in the cold already?

89: ...that’s a believable story. Anyone wanna say that’s what happened?

Hokusai: What’s this, are you giving up now, 89-kun?

89: Yeah. ...fuck, I can’t keep doing this. Everywhere I look, all of these disgusting couples are ogling each other...

89: Thanks to that, my life points are dropping...

...huh?

Kunitomo: Welcome in~ Are you looking for something, in particular?

89: You... Are you Japanese? That’s pretty rare here.

Kunitomo: H-Haha, that’s what I’m told~

89: Do you live here? Or what—

Mikhael: 89? The shopping is taken care of. We were about to return to the castle, but... You two are still lingering here?

89: Oh... Wait a s-sec, I’ll be right back...!

Kunitomo: ..........

Kunitomo: Th-Th-That gas mask... Could he have been one of the Modern gun Musketeers!?

Kunitomo: Aaaah, he didn’t realize I’m a Musketeer too, right? Haah~ That was so scary...

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #The Thousand Noble Musketeers #Mikhael #89 #Hokusai #Translation

15 notes · View notes

mooswords · 3 years

Text

It’s all coming back

Pairing: semi eita x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: war au, minor character death (mentioned), angst

Ramblings: i think ive peaked with this fic. i also cried multiple times writing this but like... thats nothing new sklajsdbk. thank you to lyra for beta-ing and yelling about this with me every step of the way <3

---

The summer breeze sweeps through the valley, warm air bringing little relief from the afternoon sun. You can feel the sweat dripping in familiar discomfort down your back as you pull at the weeds invading your struggling potato crop. It’s mind-numbing work, but it has to be done. Anyway, you’re almost-

Your name is yelled, loud and panicked. Tsutomu’s stumbling form is running towards you.

“There’s a man,” he pants. “There’s a man coming up the hill.”

“Is it Tadashi?”

“I don’t think it’s him. He-” Tsutomu throws a look over his shoulder, like he can see through the house and fences to remind himself what this man looks like. “He’s got a sword I think.”

“A soldier?” you breathe, the stone in your stomach dropping lower. Your shoulder aches. It’s still healing, a lingering reminder that soldiers are nothing but bad news. It’s been nearly a year since the war ended, but they like to ignore that fact.

Through the summer haze, you can see a blurry figure trudging up the road winding up to the house. Even at this distance, you can tell it’s definitely not Tadashi.

“Kei and Hikota are further out," you tell him, eyes still set on the figure. "Go find them and stay in the barn together until I come and get you, OK?”

“But-”

“Tsutomu. Go.”

The mystery figure is nearly at the house by the time you make it out the front door, shotgun in hand. Now you're closer you can see the ash-grey hair, the sword swinging at his hip. At this distance, you can also see the nervous smile on his face. Reluctantly, you lean the shotgun against the door jam.

He stops a few respectful paces away, and you let your eyes flit over him scornfully. “You’ve got guts, showing up here again.”

Semi winces. He knew not to expect a warm welcome, especially with how he left, but he hadn’t expected this. You don’t look the same as he remembers - more worn, more beaten down by the ebb and flow of life than he had hoped. There is a new assertiveness that you wear, still a few sizes too big for you to fill out properly but nonetheless folding strong and confident across your shoulders. It speaks to many years alone, being forced to grow up too quickly.

He supposes that’s partially his fault though.

“What do you want?” you ask, chin tilted up. Defiant as always. He’s glad that hasn’t changed.

“I’m… the war’s over. I came home.”

“Home?” You sound incredulous, a mocking edge to your voice.

“Yes,” Semi says, uncertainty beginning to cloud his words. “To you.”

You scoff. It seems the years have gifted you with a certain bitterness; he can not fault you for it, but it still grates at his rose-tinted memories. You were never a particularly joyful child - joy wasn’t a luxury people like you and he could afford - but there was a hope he remembered, a desperate spark that you’d imbue into the stories you’d tell the younger kids. The woman in front of him today deals only in blunt, unsavoury realities.

“Home to me,” you repeat, nodding slowly. Your tone is less than impressed. “Tell me-” you cock your head, contempt in every move, “since when do you leave your home without even a goodbye?”

You can see the confusion in the furrow of his brow. How could he not know?

“I’m sorry, I-” he shifts, looking less like a war-hardened soldier and more like the lanky 17-year-old you knew all those years ago. “I wasn't brave enough.”

“And yet you were brave enough to go fight in a war that's stretched on for years.” You bite your tongue, frustration welling up because you want to hug him forever but you also can’t let yourself slip up. He’s a soldier. He left. You have the younger kids to think about too, and you aren’t going to let him come in and destroy this family you have fought tooth and nail for.

“You seem like you’re doing OK now.”

“Yeah, now,” you bite back. “I’m doing OK now because I survived long enough to get out of the city walls. Barely. You can’t just waltz back in here like you never left.”

“I had to go, they needed me.”

“They needed you?! What about Tsutomu?”

He looks sheepish at that. Maybe you're finally getting through to him.

“He had you?” he tries.

Then again, how could he know? He may have seen horrors fighting for six long years, but Semi left before the city really began to fall apart. You have survived your own nightmares. Humanity is capable of more atrocities than just war.

“Of course he had me, I wasn't going to abandon him after his own brother did.” It's a low blow, but you can't find it in yourself to care. “But that doesn’t erase the fact I was one girl! I was struggling to feed my own siblings let alone yours! Do you think young girls can find work in the city? Do you think I could protect all of the kids?”

You’re shaking now, animated in your fury, and the words are pouring out faster and more uncontrolled than you had imagined. You have had six years to think of what you would say to Semi if he ever came home, but right now you can't remember a word of the carefully scathing speeches you had drafted in those long nights. This is far less elegant, nothing more than the messy sum of repressed emotions and long-forgotten promises.

“You left! When I needed you! You left me alone, just to-” you angrily smear your tears, jaw clenching, “-to go fight in some stupid war they already had thousands of men to fight.”

“You had the others, and I couldn’t just-”

The door behind you creaks.

“Go back to your siblings, Kei,” you say, not turning.

Semi’s eyes are pulled to the proud arch of a young boy’s head. For someone with dirt smeared across his cheek and a sun-bleached shirt, the kid holds himself with something akin to royal grace. Semi would be impressed if he didn’t recognise the faux bravado as the carefully cultivated shield it is. He used to wear the same brand of armour.

“You sure?” the boy asks, a well-worn aloofness in his tone that that shouldn’t belong to someone still so young. If life hasn’t been kind to you, it has been rougher for this kid.

“I’m sure.” You turn, finally, and Semi catches the edge of your smile. He wonders if it still pulls higher on one side like it used to. He wonders if you still remember that secret handshake you made him learn all those years ago, if you still love the sunflowers that used to grow in the upper circles of the city, if you still get that faraway look in your eye when you get lost in the labyrinth of your own mind.

It’s jarring, Semi thinks as he watches the final nasty look thrown his way before the boy disappears back into the doorway. The image these memories paint is so out of sync with the woman he sees before him now, and no amount of reminiscing will bring them back together.

“So… who’s he?”

Impassiveness slides back over your face, the momentary softness slipping out of sight. “His family has also been torn away by this war. We stick together because we have no one else. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Come on, please,” Semi starts. This is not how he expected this reunion to go. He takes a tentative step forward. “I know you’re angry, but I truly never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to keep you and the kids safe.”

You don’t shake off his careful hand on your shoulder; you’re not sure you could. The fight is draining from your body, and as the anger recedes, you start to see him come into focus. The dusty bandage wrapped around his hand, the lines running deep around his eyes. Maybe you had survived your own nightmares, but you were a fool to think that made his any lighter.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing closer. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen to you, but I’d do it again. I’m sorry I had to leave you and the kids, but I don’t regret going to fight.”

“And I don’t hate you for wanting to fight,” you relent, finally meeting his eyes. They’re sadder now, yet he can’t help feel relieved that the animosity has drained away.

You shrug, pained smile stuck awkwardly on your face. “But you still left us.”

Somehow, the lack of anger makes your words cut deeper. They have lost their accusing edge, replaced with a blunt resignation that makes his heartache. There’s resentment rallying in his stomach against your disappointment, and it mixes unpleasantly with the hope he had walked up to you with.

“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?” He can hear the annoyance leaking through, and from the line of tension that returns to your shoulders, so do you.

There’s a long moment, full of memories and chances long lost to history, where all you can feel is the inevitable beginnings of a new battle. The lamentable reality is that you were never taught how to back down from a challenge; to do so would just send you reeling back down to the bottom of the hard-won steps you had already taken. But haven’t you fought enough? Haven’t you fought your past enough, must you now fight him too?

“You can say sorry all you like, it doesn’t change the past.” Your voice comes out more resigned, less annoyed than you had wanted.

“Why are you so set on the past?” he demands, frustration tearing through the thin blanket of peace that had settled. “I’m here now, trying to make amends and you-”

“I don’t care what’s happening now, I want answers for what happened back then! Why didn’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trusted you, I- I just…” he throws his hands up, pacing a few steps away. “It was something I needed to do. Talking to you wasn’t going to change that.”

“Oh, so I didn’t matter then?” you say, lips pressed together painfully. It’s a wet anger; blurry eyes and choked voice. You had stared down more fearsome men than Semi Eita without a tremble, but his long-forgotten familiarity somehow makes this so much harder. “My opinion didn’t matter, my life didn’t-”

“Don’t be stupid, of course you mattered! Why do you think I left, huh? You and Tsutomu matter more than anything else-”

“Well that’s not what it seemed like to me and Tsutomu!” you yell back, sick to your stomach. “One day you were here, and the next you were gone! No warning, no nothing! Tsutomu was ten, Semi. TEN.”

He hadn’t been there to see the pieces of your life shatter apart, to see Tsutomu look so confused, to hear him ask, so quiet and ashamed, if it was his fault his brother left. He hadn’t been there to see you patch your family back together with tape you couldn’t even afford and promises you literally bled to uphold.

“I was fighting to protect you-”

“You left us for dead.”

“You would be dead if they had reached the city! What was I supposed to do? Sit back and let others die for me while I did nothing?”

You huff, dragging a hand over your eyes. Your shoulder aches. “So you thought the military needed one extra person? One extra body, that’s all it took to win the war?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he groans.

“Do I?” you fire back, leaning forward into his personal space. “Do I know? Because I was of the understanding we were a team, and then you left without a word!”

He can tell from your face you are just as frustrated at this conversation going in circles as he is. And he knows you have a point - he did leave without saying anything, and it’s a guilt that still weighs on him. But in his core, he knows he is right too. Why shouldn’t he want to defend his home? Why shouldn’t he have gone?

“I did what I had to protect you and the kids.” His voice drops into a low anger that holds more fury than any scream could. “I’m not going to apologise for wanting to protect what I love, no matter if you appreciate it or not.”

Your eyes dart between his, narrowed and searching. There’s definitely more underlying those words, years of unspoken almosts that had to be forgotten. Even just saying that much dredges up old memories he thought long gone, lost to time and unfortunate circumstance.

“I’d appreciate not being left alone to feed-”

“Stop being dramatic, you weren’t alone. The kids are smart, and W-”

“They were literally kids!" you flare, tongue cutting with scorn sharper than any blade he's faced. "What, you wanted me to let Yachi go work in the factories? Let Tsutomu go fight in the pits? We both know that would have been a death sentence.”

“You had Wakatoshi, and-”

“Wakatoshi died!”

Semi has been stabbed before. It’s a strange sensation; if there’s enough adrenalin flooding your veins, it almost feels like nothing more than a poke. But slowly, a creeping realization will set in as the wetness of your shirt becomes too much to ignore and your eyes are drawn irrevocably down. It’s only then the pain will hit you.

This doesn’t feel like that. This is immediate pain, your words splattering sharp and bright across his chest. He stutters back a step, breaths coming in short and shallow bursts.

“What… who...”

Your lips are pressed together, face turned away from him. The breath you pull in is shaky, and when you meet his eyes, they’re apologetic and guilty.

“The… the town guard caught Tsutomu trying to pocket medicine for me, and they were going to take him but Wakatoshi stepped in and it all happened so fast I…” a breathy sigh escapes you, right on the cusp of a sob. “I’m so sorry Eita, I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”

“It’s-”

It’s not OK. Wakatoshi has been a reliable fixture in Semi’s life for years, unshakable through everything. His certainty was something Semi had always admired. And despite his severity, there was a gentleness to his composure - lifting the kids up onto his shoulders during the rare parades or quietly teaching them how to play knucklebones. It’s unthinkable, for Semi to have survived this war but Wakatoshi to not.

“I’m OK,” he says.

The quiet hand you lay on his arm doesn’t help, only serving to remind him that you lost Wakatoshi too. And maybe he lost you a long time ago too. Just one more thing to add to the never-ending list of all he’s lost to this war.

Semi can only laugh, a bitter, broken sound that echoes in his own ears. It’s an ugly thing; to fight and bleed and sacrifice for a country that has never done anything for you, only to come home and be slapped with everything else that’s slipped away in the process. Of course his selflessness would be repaid in frayed relationships and lost friends.

“I’m OK,” he repeats, because he needs it to be true this time.

“Are you?” you ask, concern slipping in under the blunt question. He wants to laugh again. You always have asked the hard questions.

Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, palm rough but touch gentle against his skin, and he leans into it rather than answer. With his eyes closed, for just this moment, he can almost believe reality isn’t quite as bleak as it actually is.

When he opens them your head is tilted, looking up at him with exhausted but understanding eyes. Sighing, your head falls forward to knock against his chest. You shoulders slump, and he slowly reaches around to grasp the back of your shirt. It’s still messy between you, and he knows this is only the beginning of a long road back to the trust you shared before.

Yet as your arms come up to wrap around him too, he thinks maybe there’s hope for him.

“I missed you,” you whisper into his shirt.

Maybe even hope for you and him. It might not ever be the same, but that is a battle to be faced later.

For now, he finally lets the tears come. For Wakatoshi. For everything he went through, for everything he put you and Tsutomu through. For the simple relief of not having to fight anymore.

He feels your arms tighten around his waist.

“It’s OK,” you tell him, and he thinks, someday, he might just believe you.

#semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu x reader #this is so sad #and so longggggggggggg #and for WHAT

21 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Lay Your Burdens Down

An introspection of Boromir’s mind during the quest. How he was fulfilling a role that was not written for him and how it became his downfall.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Boromir's relation with the Ring

~~~~~~~~~

Boromir carried burdens he was not meant to carry.

He had traveled far, aching bones and dirty hands to ask for counsel that might not be enough to save Gondor. His beautiful Gondor for which he would give his life, if it meant that the White City should prevail.

It was a feeble hope, but it was the only hope he had. For all other hope had long forsaken Minas Tirith as it lay in the Mountain’s shadow under ever growing darkness.

His father could not hold out for long. Soon the people of Gondor’s doubt, their questions if he knew what he was doing, if he was doing enough to save their land, would lead to discontent that showed in actions, rather than whispered murmurs.

Still, Boromir tried to fight both that darkness growing in the East and amongst his people. He fought bravely out on the field, commanded his men with compassion and took to the streets to help where it was needed.

The Son of Gondor was there, the people knew.

And now the Son of Gondor was away. He had been traveling for a hundred and ten days when he finally arrived and he would have to make the return journey as well.

He felt every day, every minute, heavily in his soul. He knew that this was time he could not waste, because who would pick up his role while he was gone? Who would keep the darkness at bay and that little flicker of hope burning bright?

His soul knew that Faramir would try in his stead, but the people whispered that he was a Wizard’s pupil. That he did not care for his City and carried out rituals in the dark.

Naturally his own soldiers knew this not to be true and no one dared to say a word when Boromir was there to protect his little brother’s honor, but Boromir couldn't always be there and the longer he was gone, the more distrust would fester.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn't be riding to an Elven city when there was so much he had to do at home, so much to defend.

They had only just reclaimed Osgiliath and he was certain the Dark Lord wished to retake the Gondor city that controlled the Anduin. It was only a matter of time and he should be there to talk strategy so that it wouldn’t come to pass.

It was all too much for one person to bear. Fighting on too many fronts, in both a physical war as well as a war of trust. He was not build for this, he wasn’t the one who could fight both and win, yet he had to try.

He did not know anything else.

His life had always been this war, ever since he was a child and first held Faramir and his mother made his swear to protect his little brother, ever since he remembered that first oath he ever took while they had to hide as their father fought of a group of Orcswhile they had been out riding in the forest.

So, he kept on going. For while it might be too much, might completely hopeless, might be foolish to try and might not even be his destiny, he had to do it. Because who else would step up in his stead if he ever fell down?

Thus he found himself in Rivendell asking for counsel, surrounded by people who seemed much surer of themselves and more comfortable with the danger that lay far from their borders.

The counsel revealed much to him. Not only was the riddle that had plagued both his dreams as those of Faramir explained, but there was hope again. There was a weapon, a thing to turn the tide of this hopeless war and an heir. Someone to ease Boromir’s burden and help to rally the troops and take up arms against the might of Mordor.

Though he could not convince the counsel that Gondor needed the weapon, he was able to convince them to tie his own faith to that of the Ring and take a place on the Fellowship.

He knew there were people wiser than him, many people were and he had long learned that. He was a warrior, not a philosopher. So, he was content to follow both the words of the wise as well as his King. To do what they deemed to be the best course of action to save Middle Earth and with that Gondor.

However, as the journey processed a dark voice started to prod at the hope that had finally managed to bloom.

It spoke to him of the fall of Gondor while he was gone, urging him to return before it was too late, even though it already was. Telling him how he would come back to the White City being overrun and no strength he had in him could turn the tide. It offered him a solution to the problems that had plagued his mind since his youth and grew as he did.

Still, he tried to tell himself that the voice was his darkest fears and that, while they were founded in reality, were not true and merely an extreme. He looked to Aragorn and chided himself for not believing in the prophesied return, for doubting his King.

But it was hard to trust in his King when it seemed his King did not want to be what he was destined to be. When he clung to being a Ranger, keeping close to the Elf that he treated as if he were his kin. When he did not want to listen to Boromir when the soldier attempted to talk about Minas Tirith and the struggles of Gondor.

The burdens that he had carried around all his life made the journey with him towards Mordor, staying in his heart, lowering his shoulders, while no one ever looked his way to ease them, for it was the burdens of his home and no one seemed to care about them.

And so the voice crept back into his mind, its words sounding more tempting and reasonable every time.

A small part of his mind told him that it was the Ring, but a bigger part argued that it did not matter how the thought first came to be, for it was the only viable answer.

He would have to go back to Gondor, he couldn't linger here. He couldn't waste his time on this quest, which was not only folly, but would prove to be their doom, no matter the outcome. They did not know if destroying the Ring would destroy Sauron’s forces and Minas Tirith could still be overrun by his army. But, the voice whispered, they do no care for Minas Tirith, so why would consider that outcome?

It was eating at him and he saw the others look at him with suspicion. He knew they did not trust him and he resented them for their distrust, for they were safe in their countries and his people were the ones dying, yet still they did not see why he wanted the Ring to go to Gondor.

The more their gazes hardened when the passed him, the harder it came to fight with the reasoning of his mind that seemed like his own, until he wondered why he was arguing it.

Then Mithrandir fell. The Wizard was plunged into the deep where no one returned from and the small chance they had of success died with him. It disappearedover the ridge and while they pushed on, it was not the same.

Boromir watched with resentment as Aragorn stood up as leader, his mind wondering why he was willing to lead this Fellowship, while abandoning his people. The resentment grew when he lead to them Lothlórien, an Elven city once more.

Aragorn did not care for the men of Gondor, he was faithful to the Elves and did not want to take the crown. He did not want to fight for Gondor and Boromir was alone as always, but this time he was far removed from home and he could not fight from here.

He had abandoned his home, his people. The realization hit him as a voice spoke in his mind about the fall of Gondor, confirming it had not just been his own fears, but even the Elves knew of the impending doom, hanging over the White City.

She also told him to have hope, but hope had long since perished in Minas Tirith. He’dhad hope, a long while ago and he thought he could have hope when he met Aragorn, but he now saw that the hope was misplaced. The Elves didn’t understand what he had to do. They thought themselves so wise, but they were not. They were blind.

He knew what he had to do.

The solution seemed so easy. He had already said that the hands of a Halfling were not safe and he could prove it by reaching out his hand. The others would have to understand. It was the only choice he had.

It was only after he had attempted to find his salvation that he realized that it had been him, who had been folly to think he could wield it, that it was his own mind that made him think that this was the answer.

But it was too late now and he could not take back what he had done. He could not undo the confirmation of proving that their mistrust in him was just. He had failed them all and he had been too blind to see.

Still, he tried to prove himself worthy of the burden of the protecting the Ring that had been placed on his shoulders by the Counsel.

He tried to protect the little ones, tried to follow the ordersof his King and see it through to the end, no matter if it would mean that his own life would be forfeit. He had risked his life plenty of times before and he would not see two people as joyful as Merry ad Pippin succumb to the horrors of war that had been his reality from birth.

When he fell, he knew he had failed once more. Merry and Pippin were being carried away and he did not know what had become of the others, if Frodo was safe.

And when Aragorn comforted him, he scarcely believed his King when he told him he did enough, that he had kept his honor. He tried in his final moments to live up what his King thought of him, he confessed what he had done and made sure that Aragorn knew that he would have followed him if had been able.

Boromir carriedburdenshe was not meant to carry for his entire life and as he finally closed his eyes, that burden eased from his shoulders and wrapped around Aragorns shoulders like a heavymantle.

The King had to return and take up the burdens meant for him.

A/N:

I love everyone in the Fellowship and anything negative in here abt them is Boromir’s mind under the influence of the Ring

Also this was a mix between book and movie verse

#RR writing #LOTR #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #boromir #lotr boromir #boromir of gondor #the ring

7 notes · View notes

0reblogufufu0 · 3 years

Text

Spoilers Ahead For IPYTM Finale!

Time for the end to this insane ride! Pumped and full of so many feelings of not wanting to let this series go, IPYTM and ITSAY, knowing there will be no season three of continuation and that this is it, but I feel so lucky to have gotten into this series and been along for the good and the bad! Let’s watch episode five!

Immediately already in the first couple minutes we get a lot of contrast here from the ending of the last episode. Last time, things ended on a very somber note, with both Teh and Oh-aew struggling with their break up. But, here, having time skipped over to their senior year, the first thing we see is a lot of thriving while we’re on Oh-aew’s side. He’s successful in school as well as in his internship, leading already to other options for him once he graduates, and the scene we get with his friends, is light-hearted as they all lament their tiredness from the work of it all. But, it’s obvious there’s a satisfaction in the work, things have definitely gotten better since last time. Also, the flashcards from ITSAY made an appearance! I always love to see the call backs (though I waited the entire time to see a call back to Oh-aew’s nose thing, and it never did, so a bit disappointed) Something that really solidifies the difference between now and then is Oh-aew’s reaction to Teh, as well as their status as exes. It’s not bitter or hung up, but genuinely happy seeing him succeed enough to be getting TV interviews about his projects, and he says he’s Teh’s ex to his friends without it seeming at all rough, like it’s totally in the past now. It’s really sweet, because the smile Oh-aew gives is so soft you’d think there was nothing between the two that was at all negative. He’s really grown. But it also goes to show that after everything that happened Oh-aew’s feelings for Teh didn’t divulge into hatred, he’s still wishes him the best and wants him to thrive. But, oh my gosh how that contrasts with Teh’s condition is so great. Like, while Oh-aew is feeling more himself than he ever has, relishing in the life he’d always sought to have, even if some pieces had to be knocked out of place to achieve it, everything is falling apart for Teh in a way he can’t run from this time. When we meet him in his dressing room, just the coloring of the frame shows you the difference. Oh-aew’s space with his friends is vibrant, soft, and bright, while Teh’s is sort of dim, filled with neutral colors and soft lights. He talks with Top about feeling like he doesn’t want to do anything anymore, not his acting work nor his thesis which he’s struggling to come up with an idea for, and it’s a really big deal because Teh’s one consistent aspiration has always been chasing acting as far as he can, but now he’s achieved a relative fame and wants to take a break because the feeling is so not right. He says he feels like he’s missing something, and it’s obvious not just from last episode but from the conversation he has with Oh-aew later that it’s their relationship. Before, even if things were in shambles and changing, Teh could always turn back to Oh-aew being there with him, even if sometimes that was what was so overwhelming was turning back to face his boyfriend who kept on changing, Oh-aew was never missing in his core, but now that he’s basically entirely by himself with nothing feeling good for him to accomplish or strive towards, he feels how important that was now more than ever. I just gotta say wow to the scenes where Teh and Oh-aew meet again for the first time, there’s so much in it just with mannerisms or the way they speak. Oh-aew speaks with confidence, he answers Teh’s questions quickly when he asks them and doesn’t stutter or pause when he goes to ask some of his own. When he talks about Teh’s life he sounds and feels genuinely curious and happy for him in a way he really only can because he’s so sure of himself in it. He knows how he feels, how he felt, how he’s grown from then and that it’s time to move on, and he’s taken steps to do that. He’s really become his own person and it looks great on him. Meanwhile, Teh is awkward, averts his eyes whenever things hit too close to their past and dances around asking what he really wants to ask Oh-aew with stammers or lead on questions (like when he says Oh-aew can bring a plus one to Hoon’s wedding to see if he has a new boyfriend). It always feels like he’s kind of waiting for Oh-aew to say something to let him know he’s still thinking about him, that he feels how Teh does. But, Oh-aew speaks to Teh like they’re old friends, all the while Teh’s eyes linger on Oh-aew when he leaves, when he speaks, he leans in to sniff him when his head is down and he’s desperate to stay with him for as long as he can. It’s obvious what this has done to Teh and watching Oh-aew deny him what he’s looking for makes you feel pity for Teh and proud of Oh-aew all at the same time. It’s super great to watch when the facade breaks sometimes, though. Because, you can definitely see that some of Oh-aew’s confidence is definitely fake it till you make it type. He’s unsure at first whenever Teh makes his way into his space, and you can see how he still isn’t entirely ready or prepared to talk about relationships again with Teh, especially so when it’s revealed Teh broke up with his girlfriend weeks ago because they didn’t share the same thoughts anymore. I also think you can see it in their relationship status’. Though Teh isn’t in a relationship anymore, he’d opened himself up to someone else (though I think it was a Jai thing again, where it was just to have something to cling to which was familiar), while Oh-aew is single, turning away any chance of relationship (even when his friend hints to subtly liking him) even while he acts as though he is over Teh. It brings up bitter memories and Oh-aew ends up going deep into scolding Teh for not having fought harder for her or changed himself some to fit her when she couldn’t for him, it’s all spoken like he’s asking Teh why he didn’t do those things for him, like he’s telling him what exactly he wanted Teh to do for him when things got hard instead of what happened. But things ends on a warm note for their meeting, even if it’s obvious their both healing, they’re definitely not in any way holding resentment for the other, but rather a regret that seems to hang over both their heads for how things turned out, or a disappointment. Now, I just want to say, the play thing was a bad idea. Not just for showing to Oh-aew but also the play just seemed so bland? Like a spoken autobiography lacking a ton of context, I’m not sure Teh is passing with that work. But, for Teh, too, it was such a bad idea to force all that on Oh-aew. He thought it would be like a apology to Oh-aew through the play, that he’d be able to convey all his feelings in a way that wouldn’t have to be spoken recklessly in the moment and that Oh-aew would be able to understand him better, but again, he’s acting selfishly. He’s thinking about what he wants Oh-aew to see, what he wants him to hear, to understand and to even feel towards him but he never thinks maybe Oh-aew doesn’t have feelings for him anymore, or doesn’t want to get back together even if he does. Teh has spent all his waking hours feeling like something is missing without Oh-aew then becomes completely enamored with him all over again when they meet in person for the first time, it’s hard for him to believe Oh-aew hasn’t spent as much time on him as he has on Oh-aew, that he didn’t want everything to turn out differently and for them to still be together. But, Oh-aew has spent his time away from Teh trying his best to move on from him, to work himself into a place he can be happy for himself and for Teh without having those things be exclusive or his memories bitter, he’d been focusing on his gains and relishing in them, all up until Teh comes to crash the party with his presence and Oh-aew struggles not to fall back into him and what they had before, what he felt before when it ended. Still, he shows up to support Teh on his play when he receives a ticket, he’s being supportive and isn’t pushing Teh away or forcing the past on him when they meet, still, Teh forces his feelings on Oh-aew, what he felt again seeing him for the first time, his regrets, his struggles, and it’s all selfish even if he frames it in a way of wanting to make up to Oh-aew. He obviously doesn’t mean it as such, but it is the truth of the matter. It takes little for him to go back into the relationship because Oh-aew didn’t hurt him. He doesn’t have to make the decision to trust him again, trust his love, trust what he says about him because that was never a doubt for him, but Oh-aew has to think about those things in order to open himself up again. Bas was so cute when he showed up I screamed silently into the night because he is so baby faced I just want to squish his cheeks and hug him! He comes back to serve as some advice for Oh-aew on whether or not to take Teh back after he tells Teh he doesn’t want to get back together in the parking lot during the play. They talk about whether or not things can get better if you get back together after a break up and if Oh-aew’s feelings for Teh are good enough to warrant them getting back together or if there’s something better for him out there, whether he should allow Teh to ‘win’ by seeing he is still hung up over him or if moving on is better for his own sake. It’s short, but I’m just glad we get to see Bas. The scene feels weird a little, since we just saw Oh-aew having such an emotional reaction to the question of getting back together and now he is considering it, but I think it can be tied up to his feelings coming crashing down on him after he meets Teh again after all that time and even more so once he has to relive the failure of their relationship, so he’s stuck and conflicted with all these feelings on hand. This feeling of the revelation not exactly feeling right lasts all the way to the end, when they do get back together, because though it’s been built to for a little, we don’t even get the entire episode for it because they had so much to do this finale. But, okay, whatever, alright, I can’t stay mad at it. I love Oh-aew, I love Teh, I love ITSAY, I love IPYTM, there are flaws in all of those, but I love them still, I’m happy we got a happy ending, really. I was happy to see Teh’s mom again and Hoon, because they’re both a delight, was glad to see Teh’s friends and Khim making an appearance at the end, too. There are many upsets with how things padded out in them getting back together, especially the scene where it all comes together, because though I like Teh listening to Oh-aew, it skims over a lot of the issues we see reoccuring from before in this episode, so who can say if their relationship will be okay from here or not. I personally feel they may break up again but will not be able to stay from one another, so they may not be able to actually settle down until they’re old and grey and know each other best to avoid what has caused them trouble time and time again. Anyway, this was a ride and I definitely won’t stop talking about this forever, but yeah, it was the end! Goodbye to the crew, and the show, I’m gonna miss them so much and will think of them every time I play Skyline on my kalimba (it hits so different hearing the song this episode knowing how to play it now) and eat anything with coconuts or smell them, or see red and blue, or draw the sunset or when there’s a full moon or their songs come up on my playlist. I’ve accomplished a lot because of this series, accomplished a lot during, and I appreciate it so much. I always give so much grief to people blinded by nostalgia, but this is my exception, because I will always think positively of this series despite it all. Good bye! I am going to miss making time for this on thursdays and writing these at ungodly times of the morning! Thank you to all who worked on the series and read these reviews, I’ll miss it all! <3

#ipytm #i promised you the moon #i told sunset about you #itsay

11 notes · View notes

buriednurbckyrd · 4 years

Text

The Breakup Box (3)

Not here, was her first thought. It was too personal, too intimate to have the conversation when she slept. But where? What could be neutral ground but also private enough that no one else could overhear what needed to be said?

“The water,” she blurted out. “I mean...” She paused and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes. We do need to talk, but can you meet me over by the water in a few minutes?” Bucky's face remained impassive but Steve nodded.

“Okay, five minutes. We'll meet you there.” He started to turn but Bucky held his arm out to stop him.

“So you can have a chance to bolt? I don't think so, we'll go together.”

“Come on, Buck.” Steve sighed.

“No, that's fair.” Y/N said quietly. “I wasn't going to leave,” she shot Bucky a pleading look as if silently begging him to believe her. “But I haven't exactly given either of you reason to trust me not to.” She turned and took a zippered hoodie from her closet and slipped it on. There was a chill around her and she expected it would linger until the air was cleared. Knowing they would follow behind, she started walking.

What would she even say? Before she had seen them she thought she had known. It was completely foreign experience for her. There were never awkward silences between the three of them, she could tell them anything and everything. Hadn't Bucky been willing to share the darkest parts of his past? And Steve was always telling her stories of their childhood, good and bad. She hesitated for a moment at the door, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions. Fear licked up her spine and her entire body went numb with it.

“Y/N?” Steve touched her shoulder gently and it jolted her back to reality. She shoved the door open and forced her legs to continue to move. Her chest tightened and she fought the urge to hyperventilate and kept her breaths deep and even. She realized the only thing she wanted was one of their hugs which never failed to make her feel safe and secure. Another icy shard bloomed in her belly at the thought. She prayed after it was over that could still be an option.

They followed her to the casual seating area by the large pond on the property. The late afternoon sun gleamed over the water. It was tranquil and quiet. Y/N was too full of anxious energy to sit so she paced. Steve nudged Bucky with his elbow.

“Be patient, okay?” He said quietly. “She's here, that's half the battle. Let her go at her own pace.” Bucky replied with an annoyed sound, but he made no move to prod Y/N along.

“Could you, I don't know…just sit down or something?” She finally said after a long silence. “You're making me more nervous standing like that.” Steve settled down on a bench and gestured at Bucky to join him. She stopped in front of them and looked up. “I don't even know where to begin.” She told them, misery written all over her face.

“Could start with an apology.” Bucky muttered under his breath and grunted when Steve kicked his shin.

“I really do apologize for how I acted,” she wrung her hands together. “Neither of you did anything wrong and I should have just been honest.” She pressed her fingers over her eyes, refusing to cry. “I'm so, so sorry. I've been dealing with a lot of shit but there's no excuse for treating either of you like I did.” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What happened, Y/N? I just want to understand.” He looked over at the other man. “We want to understand.”

“Short story? I got dumped. And before that, I was totally humiliated.” Bucky crossed his arms.

“Gonna need the long story, sweetheart.” The pet name, however briskly delivered gave her a small flame of hope.

“I figured.” She began to pace again. “I was a fucking idiot. I planned this whole getaway because I couldn't see what was right in front of me. And that's embarrassing enough on its own, but it gets worse. I told him, hey, you always plan our dates let me do this. Booked a fancy hotel room, probably the nicest place I've ever stayed in my whole life. Tony helped me get a reservation at this amazing new sushi restaurant, which I thought would be such a great surprise since he had mentioned wanting to try it when it opened.

And like a chump I didn't notice how antsy he was about it all. Disappeared when I checked us in. Practically sprinted to the room.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Tried to sweet talk me out of going to dinner. Which I almost fell for, but I had a brand new dress and I wanted to wear it. I wanted to go eat world class cuisine with my boyfriend and feel like a princess.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “Everything went smooth a silk. I felt pretty, the food was incredible, so far it was a perfect night. Then on our way out he suddenly turns green. Not because the food didn't agree with him, but because we run into a group of his friends. And introduces me as a client.”

“Excuse me?” Steve sounds stunned.

“Yup. Not his girlfriend of nearly ten months. A client of the company he works for.”

“Why?” Bucky demands.

“Oh believe me, as soon as we were alone I asked. Kind of wish I didn't.” She gestured at her body. “Because of this. Because according to him, I don't look like a believable romantic partner for him.”

“You're fucking joking.”

“Hand to god, Buck. I have more stamina than he could ever hope to achieve, not to mention the fact that I could literally hand him his own ass. But because I don't look a certain way, don't meet some set of societal standards I wasn't good enough to be seen with him by people he knew. Then all those nagging little red flags were suddenly clear as day. He always took me to obscure little places. Never any place popular or busy if we went out. Most of the time he invited me to his place for dinner and I thought it was sweet and romantic that he wanted to cook for me. He made me into a fool.”

“Please tell me you don't believe that,” Steve stood up and grabbed her hands. “Y/N, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life, inside and out. That guy is the one that should be ashamed.” She smiled softly and drew her hands back.

“Thanks. I know he's the one that's lacking. He's the one that isn't good enough for me. But it doesn't mean that it didn't sting.” She blew out a long breath. “Him coming back to the hotel to drop of that box of my belongings was a pretty big slap in the face too. Just let all the hotel staff know how stupid I was.”

“Stop saying that,” Bucky finally spoke up. “I can't stand it when you put yourself down.”

“Sorry,” she scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know it's a bad habit.”

“Y/N, why didn't you end it then and there? Why did you let him break it off?” Steve asked.

“Because I was a coward, don't argue with me right now Bucky, I was. And even though he was wrong about almost everything he wasn't about the biggest issue.” Her heart started to race, was she actually going to do this?

“What issue?” Bucky prompted. She looked at the both of them, eyes sad.

“I didn't really want to be with him. If I had, I never would have overlooked all the ways he mistreated me, disrespected me. Every resentment and accusation just spilled out then, and there was absolutely nothing I could do or say because it was all true.” She couldn't stop the tears any more, and it felt like weakness. “Shit, I wasn't going to cry. I'm not trying to get pity or anything.”

“Didn't think that for a second.” Bucky said softly, his heart ached for his friend.

“Everything is my fault,” she said bitterly. “I did the only thing I promised I would never do, I lied. To him, to myself.” She choked on a sob. “To both of you.” Steve reached out for her. “No, don't.”

“What are you talking about? What did you lie about?” His blue eyes were so full of concern. She shook her head violently.

“I can't tell you!” She yelled. “But I can't not tell you either!”

“Y/N, please whatever it is-”

“I can't be around you anymore and keep it in, that's why I keep running away. But if I tell you and lost you both I couldn't bear it!” She held her head in her hands and trembled. Both men tried to get a hold of her but she dodged them.

“There's nothing you could say that would make us walk away from you.” Bucky said in a thick voice.

“He's right, you're our girl, Y/N.” Steve meant it to be comforting but it only upset her more.

“Am I though?” She wiped her eyes furiously. “Because I love you.” She looked at them both, and her shoulders slumped. “I'm in love with you, both of you.” Steve and Bucky could only stare at her in shock. “That's why I kept running, I can't keep all this,” she pressed her hands over her heart. “Locked away anymore. I was hoping maybe I could get it under control, but I can't. Being around you both is so overwhelming. I don't deserve your forgiveness because it was selfish. It's selfish telling you, and I never wanted to put you in this position.”

“Y/N...” Steve reached for her again.

“I don't expect anything.” Her voice was flat, as if all the wind had gone out of her sails. “You have each other and all I want is you to be happy together.” She gasped when Bucky's vibranium hand closed over her wrist, pulling her roughly towards him. His other hand was warm and gentle when it cupped her cheek, and before she knew what was happening his lips were on hers. When he pulled away her eyes were as big as saucers. “What?” Steve swept in before she could finish her thought and kissed her too, holding her against his body.

“Our girl.” He murmured into her ear. She found herself sandwiched between the two of them.

“You always were.” Bucky told her and she could the smile in his voice.

#steve x bucky #steve x reader x bucky #stucky x reader #reader insert #plus sized reader

100 notes · View notes