#how often are they sent into the field | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ktgoodmorning · 4 days

Text

"I'm scared"

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 3 of that awkward smile but also can stand on it's own in my opinion, just kinda in that same universe.

You get injured during the chelsea match and Alexia steps up to comfort you

I Part 1 I Part 2 I

Masterlist

To say you were stressed about the upcoming Chelsea match would have been an understatement. Champions league matches always held more weight to them so you’d always be the first to put an immense amount of pressure on yourself. You were similar to Alexia in that way, always expecting the absolute best from yourself and willing to push yourself to any length necessary to get there, no matter what it took.

But you were ready. That’s what everyone told you. Barça was incredible and you all knew exactly what you needed to do. You had trained for this and knew how to handle the pressure.

You did all your pre game rituals, even getting a quick kiss on the forehead from Alexia once the others had left the locker room. They still had no idea the two of you had gotten back together and at the moment you wanted to keep it that way, knowing Mapi would be fiercely protective over both of you, scared to see her best friends hurt each other once again.

Before you knew it, you were lined up in the tunnel, ready to take the pitch. Mapi was working her way through everyone, giving plenty of pep talks and words of wisdom asshe did so, being sure to make a long stop in front of you.

You were a center back, working hard to fill her shoes in her absence and trying your absolute best. Everyone knew it was a difficult job but you continued to improve and put in the extra hours to make sure you could make her proud. She was always sure to give you some extra advice and hype you up to make sure you knew that she believed in you. You had known Mapi for most of your life and as much as you’d never admit it, her faith in you worked wonders for your confidence and skills on the field. Especially with you still settling in at Barcelona, knowing that she trusted you in her absence made you step up to the plate in a way you hadn’t been able to before.

As she approached you, Mapi took both your hands in hers, looking at you with a rare sense of seriousness that she often didn’t show. “You’re ready for this, amiga. Just do what you do best, quit thinking about anything else, just go play and be the footballer that you are.” She gave you a short nod which you returned to her before pulling her in for a short hug. Soon afterwards, you were being led onto the pitch for the game to begin.

As the game got started, you settled into a pace that was much faster than most of the games you were used to. There was much more back and forth, more speed, and more physicality than you normally played with, both teams hungry for a win which only heightened the intensity further.

It was around the 60th minute when a Chelsea player sent a long ball down the field in your direction, hoping to reach Mayra Ramirez. You, being the closest to her, took off running towards her the second the ball started your way, pushing yourself to catch up with her and using your speed to your advantage. You were able to reach the ball just as it was about to arrive at its intended target, immediately jumping up in an attempt to head it away before Mayra could take control of it.

However just as your feet left the ground, you felt a mind-numbing crack to your temple, clearly coming into contact with something that wasn’t the ball, before immediately collapsing onto the pitch. What you didn’t realize when you tried to take the header, was how close you were to the opposing player who, like you, was jumping up in hopes of getting control over the ball, leading to her head smashing into the side of yours.

You had little to no awareness of the things going on around you as you layed there, curled in a ball, groaning in pain, wishing you didn’t exist. Pain was shooting through your skull with an intensity that made it hard to even pinpoint its origin. All you knew was that it hurt.

Everything hurt. The sunlight in your eyes hurt, making you keep them squeezed shut as tightly as possible. Squeezing your eyes shut caused pain too, but not quite as bad as if you had opened them. You didn’t even have the energy or mental capacity to fully react to the amount of pain you were feeling at that moment, just bringing your hands up to your face as if they would somehow shield you from the pain you were feeling, exhausted, tears unknowingly running down your face.

Game play stopped almost immediately as you and Mayra had both hit the ground hard, her seeming to be in better shape than you currently were. The second she saw your heads make contact, Alexia felt like her whole world came to a screeching halt. It did. You were her world. You had slowly become ingrained in everything she did as over the last couple months you had been together and now here you were, curled up motionless on the grass.

She didn’t even realize it but the blonde had begun sprinting towards you the second you went down, not even waiting for the whistle or giving it a second thought. It was automatic for her, the need to protect you outweighing everything else.

Normally if a teammate went down, Alexia would be the one to argue with the referee about whatever had happened and allow someone else to go comfort the injured player. It’s not like the captain had a reputation for being warm and fuzzy and good with handling people’s emotions. She’d leave that to the others so she could be the stone faced captain she preferred being. But not with you. You were different.

Alexia was by your side in an instant, suddenly no longer caring who knew about your relationship. Keeping things a secret wasn’t even a thought that crossed her mind as she slid to her knees next to you, instantly grabbing your hand in an attempt to provide you some comfort until the medical staff could reach you. Her hands shook as she brushed some hair off your face and wiped your tears, genuinely terrified of what was going on with you. The blank stare in your eyes, paired with your silence and lack of reaction was eerie to say the least.

“You’ll be okay, amor, I’ve got you. The physios are almost here.” It’s like time was moving in slow motion, feeling like they were taking forever even though they were just as prompt as they always were. Your girlfriend’s words were almost more for herself than they were for you. The way you still were yet to react, didn’t call for words of comfort, however she needed to say it out loud, just to hear it for herself. You would be okay. You had to be. She was thinking so many things at once that she couldn’t fully process it all, just fully in survival mode on your behalf.

When the physios reached your side, Alexia moved over to give them some space, still refusing to let go of your hand as they did so. She didn’t notice, but plenty of teammates had given her some weird looks, confused by her sudden concern over you and the way she was expressing it so openly. The look of fear in her eyes was new to everyone, even those she had known her entire life. Nobody had seen the captain looking so unsure of things when she was on the football pitch, normally that was the place where she came across as the most confident no matter what was going on.

The physios did their job, asking you a million questions and trying to examine you as best they could in your current state. Alexia could hardly pay attention to anything they said, far too caught up in her thoughts about what could be going on with you.

You were hardly answering any of the questions, just mumbling soft responses here and there, struggling to focus on their words. Because of your continued lack of coherency, the medical staff decided to stretcher you off- something that didn’t help Alexia’s mental state, doing her best to hide the tears that were welling up in her own eyes. She was still yet to let go of your hand, squeezing it tightly as if her hold on your hand alone could keep you safe as she helplessly watched the medical staff load you onto the stretcher.

The blonde stayed by your side as the staff wheeled you off, only stopping when they reached the sideline where Mapi had come down from the stands to wait for you to take Alexia’s place by your side. Alexia knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to come off yet. It was the Champion’s League and everyone knew there wasn’t the wiggle room to mess with the subs more than absolutely necessary. As much as it killed her to see you go without her, she knew she didn’t have another option and at the very least, she was grateful to know Mapi would be by your side the whole time.

When they paused at the sidelines with you, Alexia took the opportunity to give your hand a tight squeeze before bringing it to her lips to leave a kiss on the back of it. “You’ll be okay amor, I’ll see you as soon as this is over. I love you, okay?” She didn’t expect a response given your current state but appreciated the weak attempt at returning a squeeze of the hand to her. Mapi froze for a second, giving her a look of confusion over what she had just seen from her best friend before giving the captain a reassuring pat on the shoulder and taking Alexia’s spot by your side.

Everything after that was a blur for you, only knowing that the medical staff were busy performing tests on you, doing what they could to make sure you were okay. You became more and more aware of your surroundings as they did so, feeling the shock of the incident slowly starting to wear off. They decided you wouldn’t need to go to the hospital and that it appeared to be a grade two concussion, paired with the sudden shock of the injury. While you’d still spend longer than you’d like on the sidelines, it was a much better outcome than anyone was expecting given the state you had been in when it happened.

Once the physios had finished their tests, they gave you some medication for the pain and let you doze off on one of the treatment tables, snuggled into Mapi’s side while the game ended. The second the final whistle blew, Alexia was sprinting off the pitch with the sole intention of finding you, ignoring any other responsibilities that might have been awaiting her.

She burst through the door to the training room, expecting to be told that they took you to the hospital, stopping herself only when she saw you sleeping peacefully against Mapi. For the first time since you went down, the blonde was able to take a deep breath and calm down now that she had seen you looking relatively okay.

“Ssshhh, Ale, she’s asleep. But she’s okay. Grade two concussion, and plenty of shock but she’ll be okay, that’s all it is.”

“Gracias a Dios,” Alexia’s shoulders visibility relaxed as she let out a heavy sigh, having assumed the absolute worst for the last half hour.

“What’s going on between you two? Are you back together or something? Cause I really don’t think-”

“Si, Mapi,” The blonde rolled her eyes at Mapi’s reaction, knowing it was exactly what had prevented you from telling her earlier. “I know you’re worried about her but I promise it’s different this time. We’re both in a completely different place now, and we’ve talked about it a lot, and it’s going amazing, Mapi. I promise you. I will not do anything to hurt her.”

“You better not, juro por Dios. I’m so serious, Alexia, if you do anything-”

“I won’t! I swear, Mapi. I could never do that to her again. It kills me that I even did it the first time. This time is completely different, I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

The defender only responded with a very pointed look, clearly not too pleased with the current situation. It didn’t help matters that you were still passed out against her, unable to help your girlfriend reassure her that things were going well between you.

Not wanting to discuss it any further, Mapi slid out from underneath you, carefully allowing Alexia to slide into her place. It was clear you knew who it was, snuggling into her further and grabbing the top of her kit tightly to make sure she couldn’t leave. It didn’t matter to you that she was drenched in sweat and smelling rough, you just needed her close to you, even if you weren’t awake enough to consciously decide that.

Alexia took your movement as an opportunity to wake you up, gently rubbing your shoulder, and speaking softly as she did so. “Hola, amor. I think we should get you home so you can keep sleeping there, get you more comfortable. Si? You’ll stay at mine so I can make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded weakly, mumbling a somewhat incoherent agreement. The idea of going home with her sounded great but the idea of moving sounded like the worst thing you could imagine at the moment.

She smiled softly at your reaction, knowing that there were few things you loved more than cuddling and that she knew she would have a hard time getting you to agree to get up right now. “You’re so cute when you’re tired and barely making sense, amor. I’ll carry you if you want.”

She sat up further in an attempt to encourage you to join her, hoping to get a better idea of how you were feeling, but wasn’t expecting to see tears pooling in your eyes as soon as she did so. “Ale, I feel horrible.” Your voice was wobbly as you tried to hold in your emotions, suddenly overcome with pain in your head once again.

“I know sweetheart, I know. I’ve got you though, okay? I’ve just gotta get you home and then I’ll take good care of you and let you rest more. Is that alright?”

You nodded, looking and feeling more broken than you ever had before. “Could I please just hug you, first? Then we can go.”

Your words made her melt, suddenly aware of how much you needed her support right now, allowing you to collapse into her arms. “Shh, I’ve got you. It’ll be okay, I promise. You’ll be alright, mi amor, you’ll be alright.” She rocked you gently in a way that almost seemed to dull the pain you were feeling. This moment in her arms was the best you had felt since you hit the ground, and it did more than you ever could’ve guessed. Something about being in her arms seemed to work better than any prescription ever could.

When you pulled away from her, she gently wiped away your tears, once again pushing your hair back away from your face. “I’ll see if Mapi can grab our stuff and then we’ll meet her at the car okay? Do you want a sweatshirt or anything?” You were both in your kits still and Alexia knew you enough to know that you always ran cold and preferred being snuggled up in a big sweatshirt. Your only response was a pouty face, sticking your bottom lip out at her with your best puppy dog eyes as she gave you a smile and shake of her head in return. Of course Alexia knew exactly what you were implying with that face. It was your subtle (or not so subtle) way of requesting a sweatshirt of hers instead of your own. “I’ll get you a sweatshirt and let Mapi know that we’re ready to leave. Then I’ll come get you. Okay?” You nodded at her which she acknowledged with a quick peck on the lips before leaving the room, giving you the opportunity to lay down for a few more minutes while you waited.

You must have slightly dozed off by the time Alexia returned to you because you awoke to the sound of the door opening once again. “Feeling any better?”

You squinted slightly, trying to let your head adjust to the lights in the room. “Ale, you were gone for like five minutes, why would I feel any different?” The words carried more attitude than you intended, too far distracted by the pounding in your skull, but your girlfriend seemed to be unphased, just shrugging off your words before helping pull her sweatshirt on over your head.

Once you seemed to be more comfortable, she turned so her back was facing you, bending down slightly so you could climb on, piggy-back style. “Hop on, I’ll carry you to the car, amor.” So you did just that, climbing on and then burying your face into the side of her neck, partially to block out some of the light, partially because you just wanted to be as close as possible.

When you reached her car, she gently set you down on the passenger seat, making sure you were comfortable and buckled before leaving a kiss on the top of your head to go to the driver’s side. As soon as she sat down, she reached to hold your hand, giving it yet another reassuring squeeze. Although the silence between you provided some relief from the pounding in your head, It also sent you into a spiral of anxiety thinking about what this concussion might mean for you.

Alexia quickly noticed your change in demeanor as she drove and how you went from mostly asleep in a comfortable silence to staring into space, clearly filled with tension. The fact that you were suddenly more awake was her biggest red flag given that you had been in and out the entire time she’d seen you. The panicked Alexia that had appeared when you first went down seemed to be back and filled with concern over you once again. “Hey, are you okay? Is something worse with your head, amor? What’s wrong? Do you want me to pull over? I can pull over if you want?”

“I don’t know, I’m just scared I guess.” You gave her a grim shrug that did little to calm her nerves, still looking at you expectantly, trying to figure out how to help.

“Scared of what? You’ll be okay, they said most of your symptoms should be getting better already in a few days.”

“Not about that, Ale.”

“Then what…” the blonde trailed off, clearly confused as to what you were saying.

When she seemed to not be catching on, you let out a sigh, dreading saying the words that had come to mind. “It’s just that last time we dated, injuries are part of what tore us apart. We couldn’t deal with the stress of them. I’m just scared that that might happen again.” You paused, trying to put your thoughts into words, “I can’t lose you again, Alexia. So I don’t know if I should stay with you and I don’t know if we should do this, because I don’t think I can handle that again.” Your voice cracked as you went silent once again, both of you simmering in what was just said. By the time you finished speaking she had pulled into the driveway so she could now turn to face you, cradling the side of your head in her hand. The warmth of her large hand provided you comfort as you leaned into her touch, letting her support your head even more.

“Amor. I know it’s scary, I do. But I never plan on letting you go. Not ever. I promised Mapi that while you were passed out earlier and I’ll promise you that. We talked about this, we were both different people then. We are both more mature, stronger, kinder, smarter, and better. This is not the same.” You finally looked up to meet her eyes for the first time that night. “And I think you know that, amor. I love you, so, so, so, much. It’s okay to be scared, I’ll carry enough faith in us for the two of us. But at the end of the day, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. There’s a reason we got back together, si?”

It was rare that you saw Alexia get so sentimental and emotional but something about you seemed to bring out that side of her. “Gracias, Ale,” she leaned forward to give you a gentle kiss. “I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously.” She interrupted you with more kisses in an attempt to pull your mind away from your anxieties and back to the present.

When she pulled away, Alexia was relieved by the small smile that had appeared on your face, the first she’d seen since before the game today. “Now let’s go inside, we can take a bath and get you some comfier clothes, and get you all snuggled up to go to bed. I’ll hold you as much as you want, I won’t go anywhere.”

You gave her a small nod, before slowly leaving the car and following her inside, ready for a night with Alexia all to yourself and ready to take care of you. Your head still hurt, but if there was one thing that could make it feel better, you knew it would be your girlfriend and the hardcore pain meds you’d been given.

might end up doing one more for this but we'll see :)

Requests are always open

Masterlist

#barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barca femeni #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt #espwnt x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #futfem #wosoreadingalexia #wosoreading24/7

403 notes · View notes

troublesomesnitch · 2 months

Text

Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn.

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations.

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills.

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here.

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay.

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity.

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly.

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph.

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body.

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood.

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken.

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour.

You know very well what he has come for, too.

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh.

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous.

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this.

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs.

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right.

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please.

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift.

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all.

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says.

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet.

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead.

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife.

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment.

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you.

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care.

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs.

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside.

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks.

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker.

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening.

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat.

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar.

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening.

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs.

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state.

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.”

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world.

But you must at least try.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company.

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs.

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion.

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before.

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise.

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content.

You did well tonight.

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias.

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic

795 notes · View notes

foldingfittedsheets · 2 months

Text

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

It almost worked. But instead the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her assassination had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on murder was a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

#ramblies #writing #story #funny story #true story #horses #horse #horse girl #ffs foibles #pony

579 notes · View notes

leahswife · 1 month

Text

snuggles, cuddles and struggles

summary: aitana is a touchy person. she particularly likes to touch you. you have a crush and don't know how to deal with it. neither do your teammates.

the first time it happened, it took you by surprise. it wasn't that much of a big deal really, you and your team were on the bus back to the hotel after a match and you were all pretty exhausted. but when aitana lays her head on your shoulder and starts to doze off, there's a little nervous flutter that settles in your chest.

you knew aitana was not afraid to show affection, often clinging herself to keira or Ingrid but that wasn't the same situation for you. you could be affectionate with those you were close to, but often withheld being too touchy in fear of making others uncomfortable.

this particular situation, however, was even more stressful to you as it had to do with aitana. the crush you had on the brunette was now holding you hostage, making you conscious of your every move or breath to not risk waking her up. what if aitana got uncomfortable, what if your shoulder was too bony, what if you forgot to put on deodorant after the quick shower?

you looked over and aitana was breathing peacefully, eyes closed and asleep. you took a deep breath and pushed your unpleasant thoughts away, however you did not move an inch the whole ride back.

–

slowly but surely, you got used to having aitana attach herself to you. not too long after the bus nap on your shoulder, the girl was right at your side whenever it got too cold, holding on to your arm and pressing her cheek onto your shoulder to try and keep herself warm. she would grab your hand any time you were walking ahead of her to catch up with you. but the worst part was the nights out.

one night the whole team decided to go out for a very much needed break and within no time, drinks were being passed around the table you were all on.

after a little while, some were on the dance floor and others by the bar just chatting. you were sat by the table, laughing with claudia and patri as you watched ingrid scolding mapi for jumping too much when she's still recovering from her latest injury, when suddenly a body drops on your lap.

"phew! it's too hot in here!" aitana huffed as she wrapped one arm around your neck and the other fanned her hand towards her face to cool down a bit. she was sitting sideways on your lap, without seemingly any care in the world while you just looked stunned.

your ears quickly caught notice of the giggles coming from patri and claudia's way. you sent them a glare and gulped down the rest of your drink so you could feel a little more confident. you already had a little buzz going on so you tentatively put one of your hands on aitana's thigh and the other on her hip. this must have seemed like an invitation considering that it made aitana wrap both arms around your neck and wiggle on your lap to get closer to you.

"i'm tired." she groaned. you let out a small laugh and tapped her thigh, "well, when you're running around a field for 90 minutes and then dance throughout the night, i think it's bound to make you tired." aitana frowned at you, "but i have a lot of stamina."

"why don't you go home and show her some of that stamina, chica?" patri shouted across the table, laughter in her voice. your eyes shoot daggers at the mallorquina whereas aitana looked confused. "qué?" aitana shouts back, clearly clueless of patri's suggestion. "don't mind her." you rolled your eyes and with some alcohol induced confidence, you grabbed aitana's jaw to turn her head back to you.

she was the one to look surprised now, eyes flickering to your lips and back to your eyes in a second. once you realized the position you had put yourself in, you tried to brush it off by gently shaking her head and letting go of her jaw, "by now you should know some of our teammates aren't the brightest." you smirked as patri's "hey!" can be heard. but aitana continued looking at you, seemingly breathless as what seemed like realization came across her face.

aitana cleared her throat and stood up "i should go home." she said, grabbing her purse in an haste. "but you were drinki-" you're cut off as aitana quickly states that ingrid and mapi are leaving and will take her. you watched her leave with a confused look and slightly anxious you went too far.

–

after that night, aitana appeared to back off her touching completely. well, off of you. now she went to keira to warm herself up or laid her head on ona's shoulder when she was tired. speaking to you also appeared to be a hard effort on her part and every time she would walk past you in the changing room without even a glance, you would sink back down on your cubbie like a kicked puppy.

lucy had noticed both of your changes in behaviour, aitana's withdrawal and your yearning looks from afar. well, that last one had always been there but now it was just sad to watch. she sat down next to you and put her arm around your shoulders, "what's up, kid?" she asked, concerned. "nothing, grandma, what's up with you?" you shifted your gaze from aitana to lucy, an amused smile slowly forming on your face. lucy's worried look rapidly changed into a gloomy one, "ha ha, you're so funny. did i ever tell you you could be a comedian?" she said, sarcasm rolling off of her tongue as she pushed your shoulder. you giggled, "yes, you have. is your memory declining that fast?". she mocked your phrase, "iS yOuR MemOrY dEcLin– shut up." you gave her an innocent smile and a quick hug, "oh forgive me please, great lucy bronze." she rolled her eyes but eventually caved and dropped the grumpy face, "you coming out with us tonight?" "umm, i don't know, i–"

"she is!" pina pointed at you both. her loud tone drew some attention from the other girls, including aitana, who looked at you probably for the first time that day but quickly drew her gaze away. you noticed this, which brought back that weird rejection feeling in your chest even if you had nothing to be rejected about.

"hey." lucy brought your attention back to her, "i think it will be good for you to come with us, okay? have a little fun, distract a little and if you want to, you can annoy me all night." she looked at you with a charming grin, pretty persuasive really. that managed to crack a smile out of you and you nodded, "deal."

–

you intended on getting absolutely smashed tonight. if aitana didn't want to talk to you or even interact with you anymore it's because you must've done something, right? you went too far or said something that weirded her out and now your friendship was ruined. so you were going to drink it out and try to forget all about it.

you were about to begin your night's mission when patri walked over to you at the bar, "hey! i need a favour!" she shouted over the loud music. you looked at her, and waved off the bartender, "what is it?" you asked. she pointed in the direction of the bathroom, "can you go check if i left my purse in the toilet? i've been trying to find it everywhere, i'm gonna go check on one of the other rooms now so can you do me this favour, pleeease?" she begged, trying her best to look desperate.

to be fair, you knew that she would insist even if you refused so it didn't take much convincing for you to nod and walk over to the bathroom.

when you got in, however, you realized why patri had "assigned" you the bathroom to look for her "lost" purse.

aitana was standing by the sink when she realized you walked in. her eyes went wide for a second, probably startled to see you and proceeded to wipe her hands and make her way to the door.

"no." you stood by the door, blocking her way out. you don't know where this new-found confidence came from, maybe the adrenaline of being alone with aitana, or the pent up frustration and yearning that she caused over the last few weeks but you were glad it was here, and you were gonna ride it out for as long as you could. "why have you been ignoring me?" you asked, your eyes fixed on aitana's.

"i haven't been ignoring you."

"you have."

"i haven–"

"aita, stop." she opened and immediately closed her mouth. "tell me please whatever i did wrong. i promise you that if i just knew, i'd take it back. I'd take back whatever i did a million times if it meant you got to talk to me again." you rambled on, no filter whatsoever.

"you did nothing wrong." she answered quietly. "then why did you ice me out? you don't talk to me, you barely look at me and you never touch me anymore. i don't understand what happened." you blurted out, distressed. she looked up at you with guilt plastered on her face.

you saw her struggle internally as she sighed, covered her face with her hands and walked around the bathroom before returning to stand in front of you. "that other night." she started, "i felt something." she looked away from you, "i mean. i had already felt something before, but that night, when you grabbed me, i– i dont know. i realized something."

what? that you didn't matter? that you were ugly? your mind started thinking of the worst scenarios but when she saw you the fear in your face, she immediately interjected, "it's nothing bad! i promise." she put her hand on your arm, the first time she'd touched you in a while.

"i realized why i was clinging to you so much. i know that i am a touchy person but with you, it was just… different." you frowned in confusion but nodded at her to keep going, "i want to touch you all the goddamn time. not just at training or after a game, i mean i want to hold you and be held by you while we fall asleep. i want to hold your hand when we go for walks, i want you to hug me while i cook dinner or when we're watching scary movies, i just – i want you." she finished with a sigh, an agitated look on her face as she stared into your eyes.

you were speechless. aitana wanted you? the same way you wanted her?

when she saw you kept being silent after a while, she continued, "i'm sorry for distancing myself, but these feelings… they are new to me. i didn't know what to do with them, how to approach you, if i should tell you, i was scared you didn't feel the sa–"

"can i kiss you?" you interrupted.

"what?" she asked quietly, shock all over her face.

you put your hands on the back of her neck, slightly tugging on her hair, so her head turns upwards to you. you lean closer, lips almost brushing hers, "i asked if i could –" you were cut off by aitana's lips pressing yours with urgency. she grabbed your waist, strong arms pulling you closer. you sighed in pleasure within the kiss, which prompted her to stick her tongue into your mouth. you tugged on her hair a little harder and pressed your tongue against hers. you pulled away to take a breath and grabbed her jaw, a cocky smirk forming on your face when her hooded eyes filled with lust, "this is what made you realize you wanted me?" she nodded, breathless. you pulled her in and gave her a hard kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together before you pulled away again.

"i am so glad patri made me come look for her lost purse."

"huh? lucy told me to come find her lost purse."

a/n: idk if some expressions are used correctly, english is not my first language so if u guys have anything point at, my asks are open :) also i didn't proof read sorry i finished this pretty late and im sleepy 🤪✌️

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmati x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #barca femeni x reader

872 notes · View notes

lowkeyerror · 2 months

Text

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later.

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #pietro maximoff #kate bishop #clint barton

459 notes · View notes

bouncybongfairy · 2 months

Note

Could you do a live action Zuko x reader, they were betrothed to eachother before his banishment. They frequently had visits and got along really well. First time they met he saw her creating a blue butterfly from her fire bending. The reader can produce blue flames but is a gentle, kind person. Zuko is reading the latest letter she has sent him, praying for his safety and health. How does he feel about them after all this time? Maybe this fuel his fire to complete his quest and get home.

See You Soon

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: Both Zuko and can't stop thinking about each other, after reading the most recent letters you sent to each other.

Word Count: 2.0k

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s been some time since the last time you’d seen Zuko face to face. Ever since his banishment, so about three years. You’d think those wounds would have healed, a betrothal that was nothing more than a concept faded in time. Anyone who’d know you would say you were well past it, those people obviously weren’t paying close enough attention. Sending each other letters, drawings and pressed flowers. Detailing everything unfolding in his quest to find the Avatar. Her day to day life with school and helping your mom with all the tailoring for the Fire Lord’s family. A very important part in your life considering your family had been tailoring in the palace for generations. Every once in a while you’d send him an embroidered Lion to represent power and leadership, hiding his name tiny within the mane. Although you found comfort in the words of reassurance he gave through ink and paper, it only made you long for something more. Reminiscing on all the precious memories that now feel like they were taken for granted.

The two of you met by chance, your mother worked in the palace. She made all the clothes for the royal family. Often having you assist, holding her pin cushion or any other request she may have. At first not paying each other much attention, one day Azula came in, berating both your mother and self like she did to all other staff. Hearing horror stories from others in the palace made you terrified of her. The last thing you wanted was to get your family banished for looking at her wrong. Zuko noticed this, and nudged your arm; looking over at her and then rolling his eyes. Giving you a reassuring smile, Azula then nudged your shoulder with hers as she walked out.

“That girl may be a princess by blood line but not respect from her people. She rules with fear when it should be grace,” you mother grumbled as you walked into the house.

“That may be true but it must be hard, growing up competing for the throne. Having your entire life mapped out for you even before you’re born. That must be so hard on someone so young, I think I'd break,” pulling your hair out of the tight bun. Your mother smiled, setting the bags on the table. Cupping your face in her hands,

“I love that in a nation so pitiless and jaded that you have kept your soft spirit. You know that, but that girl spoiled down to the soul,” your mother laughs before turning back to her bags.

You laugh and walk into your bedroom to change before heading back outside. The weather was perfect to practice your fire bending. One of the perks of having a mother who worked in the palace was better education for you. Now that you had been learning to bend from a master, you were able to do more than you could ever imagine. At school all you learned was combat or defensive bending. At home, you liked practicing making different shapes. At the beginning it was simple stuff like circles or hearts, with time they were getting more intricate. Being able to make things like flowers, birds and even butterflies. You were in the empty field behind your family's home, working on your bending. You’d finally learned to make the butterfly flap its wings and fly around for a couple moments at a time before dissipating. Taking a deep breath and creating the flames, putting all your focus into manipulating its form. Holding your breath nervously as you watch it fly around you. The blue light glowing off the flame lit Zuko's face up, where he was watching from a couple feet away. You gasped out of surprise and backed away.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to- when Azula nudged you, this fell off your top. I just wanted to return it,” he said, holding out the embroidered patch of a crabapple tree that was pinned to your top.

“Oh, thank you. Wow I'm really surprised you took the time to return it, as someone with so much responsibility; it’s an honor,” you say, giving him a quick bow out of respect.

“I’ve only seen masters create such detailed shapes with blue flame, can I help?” he asks, you nod in agreement as he comes closer. He stands behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Nudging your arms up with his hands telling you to create the flame before continuing,

“Holding your breath limits the amount of time your fire can stay in the air. Like suffocating a candle with its lid. Fire can’t be without oxygen, can you feel my breathing against your back? Match it to yours then try to make the butterfly,” he said.

You were so nervous but took a deep breath in before matching the rise and fall of his chest. Immediately you could feel the difference, like you had more control over the flames. Being able to make the wing movements sharp and clean. Making the flame circle around the two of you, forcing your bodies closer together.

“See, isn't that so much better?” he asked.

“Yeah, I never thought I could have so much control over my bending,” you said, moving to face him.

“I have to get back but i’ll see you around?” he asked, as he took off in a rush which made you chuckle.

After that night, it was like fate just couldn’t keep the two of you apart. He was getting fitted more often for leather armor and things like that. Noticing each other in lessons and sneaking glances. This progressed until eventually Zuko became unbothered with who saw the two of you interacting. One day he slipped a note into your bag, wanting to meet later that night. Your heart skipped a beat of course, and for the rest of the day it was all you could think about. The day seemed so much longer now that you had something to look forward to. Practically skipping home from lessons, even though you still had a couple hours before dark. You were happy to be home daydreaming. Your mom was home, cooking komodo chicken. Giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading off to your bedroom. Originally you were going to wear what you always did but part of you felt like the night was too special for your everyday attire. Normally keeping your hair up in a tight bun, you decide to let it down. It took you a while to convince yourself to leave it down but eventually you did.

Everyone was finally asleep, the house dark and quiet. You sneak out the window of your bedroom. Zuko was waiting for you right outside which made you gasp, not seeing it was him at first. He had a big smile on his face, which was refreshing considering he’s been going through alot lately. On a night with such amazing weather, the main city and markets were busy with life. Zuko and you however prefer the peacefulness of looking over the city from the peak of a hill not too far. Zuko was pointing out different constellations in the sky to you. Or showing him new little tricks you were learning with your bending. He always acted really impressed but you knew he was doing it for your benefit. You loved that about him, that he cared so much about your confidence.

“You know, my father says it’s time to start looking for a girl to betroth,” he says.

“Oh? Any girls you had in mind?” you ask playfully.

“No,” he says back in the same playful tone, which makes you elbow him in his ribs.

“In all seriousness though, how do you feel about that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“I think I'm waiting for you to ask me properly,” you said chuckling.

Zuko also felt like he took all these moments for granted. He was currently in his room on the ship. Looking around at all the notes and drawings he’d pinned to the walls. They’d just left where he and his crew were docked, following a lead on the Avatar. Reading the most recent letter you’d sent him, it pained him to know you were feeling the same grief he was about feeling apart. He never really talked about it to his uncle or anyone but it was one of the main reasons he was so motivated to complete his quest. He felt like he was missing out on the most important years of his life. Uncle Iroh always talks about how memorable his late youth was, before he had real responsibilities as general. He missed everything about you. Especially how sweet you were, always finding the good in people. Even finding beauty and grace in Azula; his own mother couldn’t find that in her.

Often when Zuko was anxious he would think about you comforting him. He knew he could be hot headed both emotionally and physically. This never phased you, even when he was in full blown flames. Always finding a way to calm you down. Somehow reassuring him without making him feel small or stupid. You always used to tell him that anger is a form of passion. That you loved the passion and resilience he had, and that one day he’d be able to channel it without anger. He found so much comfort in you so being ripped away was hard but reading your letters helped. Made him feel like everything wasn’t as impossible as it may seem. Like once he returns home he’ll know you’ll be there to support him.

He laid back on his bed, your letter on his chest. Worried that you’d grow tired feeling his love through paper and ink. That you’d yearn for love that’s more present in your everyday life. This fear was doubled by the fact that he assumed telling you about this fear would make him come across as insecure. Maybe he was but he didn’t want you to know that. He hated being seen as weak, you were too kind to admit but he knows that exactly what you’d think. Currently thinking about one of the last nights you had together. In Zuko’s old room, laying on the bed together. You were playing with his hair and he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you were pretty tired from training and school. Just melting into each other, enjoying the comfort you gave him. There wasn’t any talking but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d kiss him on his forehead every once in a while, finger combing his hair. Taking in your smell and leaning into your touch. He never felt so vulnerable in a comforting way with someone.

Iroh came into the room, making Zuko jump up. Clutching onto his letter, immediately his uncle sensed something was off. His eyes were dark and puffy, not to mention quite red. The bruise on his face appeared to be swelling and it was obvious that he was beyond his limit. Iroh set down the wooden tray he carried in, handing him a cup.

“I know you don’t want to hear this but mentally you are being strained. Bending and combat is easy for you because you’ve done it your whole life. Emotionally, some of your muscles are weak but I can see your slowly strengthening them. It’s important that you get lots of rest while you-” he went to look over at Zuko and stopped talking once he realized the boy was asleep. Iroh held back a laugh before taking the cup and letter out of his hands. Zuko gripped the paper and woke up but settled down once he realized it was him.

“Rest now, and please truly let yourself rest,” he said, pulling the blanket over him and he laid down. Folding the letter gently and leaving it on the nightstand.

#prince zuko fanfic #netflix avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar live action #avatar last airbender #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko x you

602 notes · View notes

peachdues · 10 months

Text

Tell Me to Stop: Part 2 (NSFW Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Ice Pillar)

A/N: oh man, it’s here. This took a lot out of me, so I hope that you all like it.

Part One can be found here: post-Mugen AU where Kyojuro lives; events take place post-Entertainment District.

Multiple POVs (Y/N, Shinobu, and Kyojuro). There are several flashbacks, which are in all italics and separated from the main text.

Massive TW: trauma/PTSD, anger, nightmares, descriptions of corpses, violence and violence between characters (shoving, grabbing/shaking). One character triggers another and it’s dubious whether it’s intentional or not.

CW: 16.7k words; explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex/oral (F!receiving), creampies, cursing, light scar worship, intimacy, angst.

For the song that inspired this, listen here.

Without further ado!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N began her rehabilitation training within one week of awakening from her coma.

For those seven days of rest, Y/N had fielded all sorts of visitors — the Master, escorted by his two daughters; the Love Pillar, who had wasted no time throwing her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and sobbing in relief; and three of the Mansion’s youngest girls, all of whom crawled up on her bed and cried while hugging her.

Uzui had sent her a note by crow telling her he would be by to see her as soon as his wives finished making her favorite treat — red bean mochi — and said they could compare battle wounds in celebration of their feat.

Y/N had neither seen nor heard as much of a whisper from the Flame Pillar.

The Ice Pillar resolved to distract herself from the glaring absence of the man who embodied fire, though every day that passed without word from him only seemed to make that absence more pronounced.

Y/N had thrown herself into her rehabilitation training, as supervised by Shinobu. Because she was a Hashira, her recovery was vastly different from that of lower-ranked slayers, and she worked with the Insect Pillar directly, rather than with the haughty Aoi and other younger Mansion girls.

That particular morning, the Love Pillar had joined them in an effort to recuperate Y/N’s loss of flexibility as the result of the nearly two months she’d spent sedentary. Y/N cherished the one-on-one time she had with the other two women Hashira; the three of them had formed a tight bond with one another since ascending as Pillars, united amidst the predominance of male demon slayers.

“Good! Now just bend this way-“ Mitsuri Kanroji kept a steady hand at the small of Y/N’s back as Y/N arched over backward, teeth grinding as her stiff spine resisted her movement.

“Almost there! Just touch your other hand to the floor and hold it!” The Love Hashira said encouragingly.

Y/N stretched her left arm over her head as hard as she could. Her fingers had just graced the wooden grain of the training room floor when her body seized, and her legs gave out from under her.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught Y/N effortlessly before she could crumple to the floor, gently helping her to sit while blushing at the stream of colorful curses that poured from the Ice Pillar’s mouth.

“This damn wound,” Y/N moaned, her hand pressing against the angry red mark that curved from below her belly button to her right hip. “You would think it would have healed by now.”

Shinobu frowned as she crouched next to the Ice Pillar, fingers lightly prodding at the scar left behind by Upper Moon Six. “It has healed; if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have scarred already.” Shinobu pursed her lips. “Though, I suppose it could just be a residual effect of the Upper Rank’s blood demon art – after all, it was no ordinary blade that he pierced you with, was it?”

Y/N shook her head, though she tried to suppress the memory of the demon’s cursed flesh blade ramming through her back and into her stomach. “The blade was his conduit for his blood demon art – but I think it was made from him.”

“How often does it hurt, Y/N?” Mitsuri asked, rubbing soothing circles on her friend’s upper back. Mitsuri was one of the few people Y/N knew who preferred to give physical comfort, and Y/N was grateful for it.

Y/N furrowed her brows in thought. “In a way, there’s always just this dull ache I feel, though it becomes sharper whenever I move a particular way.” Y/N pulled at the band of her uniform bottoms in discomfort. “And, it doesn’t help that these damn pants chafe and rub against it. I’ve even foregone the belt, and it still feels like they’re cutting into me.”

Mitsuri hummed in thought. “Have you considered one of the uniform skirts? They sit a little higher on the waist, so they’re less likely to aggravate it.”

Y/N scowled. “I would rather be stabbed by Upper Six again than request a skirt from that pervert tailor,” she said severely, “Sorry,” she added when she saw the Love Pillar flush with embarrassment.

“Lecherous Corps tailors aside, you may have a good point, Mitsuri.” Shinobu said, eyeing Y/N’s uniform pants in thought. “Y/N, do you mind if I brainstorm some designs for you? I can’t promise whatever I come up with will be suitable for public appearances or assignments, but I might be able to come up with something that will at least keep you comfortable while you heal and build back your strength.”

Y/N smiled as she stretched her legs out, bringing herself into a pose meant to flex her hips. “I’d be grateful for anything you could do, Shinobu.”

The Insect Pillar nodded. “Mitsuri, you know how to sew quite well, do you not? I’m afraid my proficiency with the needle is limited to sewing up wounds.”

The pinkette glowed with enthusiasm. “Yes! I have an entire room dedicated to sewing at my Estate – if you bring by your designs, I’m sure I could put something together!”

Shinobu smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll see what I can come up with tonight, and I’ll bring it by in the morning.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the dedication her two friends showed towards her comfort and recovery. “Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart.”

Shinobu’s smile turned wicked. “Don’t thank us yet, Y/N. You have agility training next.”

Y/N groaned and pulled on her uniform top, buttoning it over her bindings. As a Hashira, agility training meant that she was to meet the Wind Pillar outside of Kocho’s estate where she would endure two hours of having to dodge his relentless attacks. Y/N got along just fine with Shinazugawa – he’d even welcomed her back, and gruffly complimented her work in the Entertainment District – but that did not mean he eased up in his ruthless training.

By the time the Wind Pillar had dismissed her with a satisfied nod, Y/N had all but limped back to her room, wondering whether she could even summon the strength to bathe after such an arduous day. She almost decided against it, but when her newest scar began to pulse and throb once more, she knew nothing else would soothe it better than the hot water in Kocho’s private hot spring.

Y/N greeted the bowing Kakushi who guarded the entrance to the northernmost wing of the Butterfly Mansion’s hospital as she passed by, and she hoped that Aoi had remembered to restock her room with fresh towels so she could go straight to her bath from her room.

She drew short at the sight of a familiar figure which stood outside of Kocho’s office, leaning against the wall of the small hallway.

“Rengoku!” Y/N was startled, taking a step back in surprise at the sight of the Flame Pillar.

“Y/L/N.” The man who reminded her of the sun nodded in greeting, but his familiar, sunny disposition was noticeably absent, his face impassive and his voice detached.

“I am happy to see you in good health.” Rengoku spoke with unnatural formality; he’d never used that cold, detached manner of speaking to her, not once since she’d caught him staring at her right before the commencement of Final Selection all those years ago.

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

“Ice Pillar Y/L/N!” His sunny voice boomed, and Y/N groaned. She’d just gotten her migraine to calm down.

“Rengoku,” she nodded politely, as her comrade came to stand beside her, all smiles and warmth.

“It’s been a while, Y/L/N! I was beginning to forget what you look like when you roll your eyes at me.” He laughed, and Y/N scowled.

“Perhaps I’ll pay to have my photograph taken, Rengoku. That way, you can carry it with you wherever you go.”

Rengoku turned to her, an eyebrow raised in surprise at her willingness to engage with his banter so quickly. “If that’s the case, Y/N, I’d prefer to have one of you smiling. It would do well to keep me warm on those cold nights away from home.”

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

“I heard you were called away on another mission— some train?” Y/N asked him as they strolled through the Master’s garden following their meeting.

“Yes, we’ve unfortunately lost a number of slayers. Perhaps it’s an upper rank!” The Flame Pillar responded jovially, but he stopped in front of Y/N when he saw her frown.

“What is it?” His voice was gentle, and Y/N shook her head, focusing her eyes on the blooming wisteria saplings that had been planted.

A warm finger curled under her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes clashed with pools of golden ore. “My dear Ice Pillar, are you worried for me?” He was smirking, and his thumb lightly caressed the underside of her jaw.

Y/N gingerly took his hand and removed it from her face, though she did not let it go right away. “You are the Flame Hashira, Rengoku. If anyone is capable of defeating an Upper Rank, it most certainly is you.”

Rengoku smiled broadly at her, his hand nearly grazing her own. “For someone whose prowess lies in ice breathing, Y/L/N, you sure know how to start fires.”

Under any other circumstance, she would have changed the subject, or not said anything at all. But Y/N couldn’t help her sudden desire to flirt back, just to see if she could knock him off his feet as he so often tried to do to her.

“Yours is the only one I’m interested in stoking, Rengoku.” She said sweetly.

She’d laughed at the Flame Pillar’s beet-red face for the rest of the day.

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

“And I, you.” Y/N responded, her eyes still wide with surprise as she came to a stop before him, maintaining a cautious distance between them.

A pregnant pause followed, and Y/N made to speak once more, but she was cut off by another deep throb from the wound on her lower abdomen, her hand unconsciously flying to press against it as she swallowed the gasp that threatened to leave her.

“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.

Y/N shrugged in a feeble attempt at nonchalance. “I suppose it’s to be expected for a while yet. At least until I recover.”

Rengoku said nothing, and the silence felt suffocating.

“Would you-“ Y/N hesitated, and inwardly she’d never felt more embarrassed, or more uncertain than she did then as she stood before the uncharacteristically stoic Flame Pillar. “Would you like to sit down?”

Rengoku’s face remained impassive, and he turned away from her, dismissively.

“I cannot. I came only to retrieve a salve from Kocho.” His voice was just as cold, just as unfamiliar as the rest of him had been.

“Rengoku, is everything all right?” She stretched out a hand to touch his shoulder but was alarmed at how quickly he flinched away from her as if her touch could burn him.

“Everything is fine, Y/L/N. I need to be on my way.” Rengoku’s voice was flat, monotone, and wholly foreign to her.

“I’m sorry for not thanking you sooner — for everything you did to help me that night.” Y/N blurted, and to her relief, Rengoku froze mid-step, though he did not turn towards her. “I owe you my life.”

She did not miss the way Rengoku’s fists clenched at his side. “You owe me nothing. I would have done the same for any other comrade.” He replied, voice tight. “I must get going now. Farewell, Y/L/N.

She was so stunned that she’d not bidden him farewell back. Rather, she’d stood helplessly in her doorway, even long after the edge of his haori had disappeared around the corner of the Butterfly Mansion’s hall.

He had not looked at her once.

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

(Kyojuro’s POV)

Kyojuro’s fists remained clenched the entire journey back to his estate.

He felt disgusted with himself. He felt like a coward.

It had nearly knocked him to his knees to see Y/L/N up and standing and talking because for so long, he had feared he would never again see the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed, or how she tucked that one loose strand of hair behind her ear whenever she was concentrating — the one that never stayed put in her braid.

But he had not been able to meet her eyes; couldn’t bear to bring himself to try, because he had been terrified of what he would see.

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

Every night for the last two months, he has dreamed of her.

They were not pretty dreams, not like those he had before when he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she laughed, the two of them living in a monster-free world and at peace.

Now, he dreamt of vacant eyes-tinged blue, unseeing and unblinking and frozen, just like the rest of her. He dreams of iced skin and blood and poison pouring from her mouth and her nose until she chokes, her chest rising once with a final rattle before it falls still.

He dreams of Upper Three, smiling deviously as he aims his fist to deal his final blow, and Kyojuro wrenches his blade down, desperate to finally win.

Only, his blade decapitates Y/N, not the Upper Rank demon and he is helpless to watch her head bounce pathetically to the ground. His hands are covered in her blood, and instead of disintegrating, her body falls uselessly to the side. Human.

As quickly as he kills her, the dream changes. He is in a lively street, filled to the brim with street vendors and women and men offering their services. It is night but the lights of the shops and gambling dens and pleasure houses are so bright that it looks like daytime.

He recognizes her by the back of her haori, and his feet move towards her, relieved to see her amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, her name whispering on his lips. But she turns before he can make contact, and though she looks healthy, her eyes — her eyes are white and unseeing.

I don’t understand, she pleads with him, it doesn’t make sense.

Kyojuro looks around in alarm and they are no longer standing amongst eager entertainment seekers, but among flame and wreckage, the once-ornately decorated stalls now smashed to splinters as fire slowly consumes the skeletal remains of the entertainment district.

He turns back to her right as a blade pierces through her gut, lifting her from the ground before letting her drop.

His hands shake as he reaches for her, desperate to check her wounds, but when she looks up at him, he stumbles back.

She is all wrong. Her skin is mottled and rotting from her face, and her hair is gray and matted. In place of her eyes are black holes, empty and cold.

Why can’t I come with you? Why can’t I go home, Kyojuro?

Please take me home.

Every night for the last two months, he awoke screaming.

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

Y/L/N was alive; he knew that. He knew that if he looked at her, he would not see a corpse; but terrifying visuals aside, Kyojuro had not been able to look at her because he knew what his nightmares were telling him.

He’d been responsible for her near death.

If the Kakushi had returned with a box rather than a Pillar, it would have been his fault.

The thought that Y/L/N — his Y/L/N -- had almost obtained her own headstone in the Master’s graveyard had rocked him to his very core, for that had almost become a reality. She had actually died – for the briefest moment – in his arms; and it had been his fault.

Why can't I go home, Kyojuro?

And though Y/N had awoken from her slumber, her corpse still haunted Kyojuro’s dreams.

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

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was sprawled on her infirmary floor, preparing her limbs for another day of rigorous recuperation training at the hands of her fellow Hashira.

She stood to stretch her arms and lower back, wincing slightly at the pull of her scar. “Don’t you start,” she warned her body, willing total concentration breathing to dull the persistent ache that threatened to derail her entire day.

Y/N sensed movement near her doorway and knew, without looking, who watched her as she warmed up her aching muscles.

“Uzui retired. It’s time for you to do the same.”

Y/N who had been in mid-stretch, righted herself and blinked at the Flame Pillar. “Pardon?” Both the news of Uzui’s retirement and Rengoku’s words were a shock to her.

“Retire, Y/LN.” Rengoku repeated in that detached manner of his that she hardly recognized. “You helped take down an Upper Rank. You’ve done enough. Let someone else shoulder the burden, now.”

“I see no reason to retire, Rengoku.” Y/N retorted, voice hardening. “And unless and until the Master requests it or I perish, I see no reason to do so.”

Rengoku exhaled harshly through his nose. “You were injured — seriously so.”

“As were you, and yet you seem to have no intention of slowing down.” Y/N said, coolly.

Rengoku’s attention stayed fixed on the garden outside her window. “And I was only unconscious for three weeks. You were out for nearly two months, Y/L/N. That is unheard of and frankly, unacceptable for a Hashira.”

“What is your problem?” Y/N was growing more irritated the longer this inane conversation dragged on, and it wasn’t helping that Rengoku still refused to so much as look her direction, let alone meet her eyes. “Is this about what happened after you brought me here? Kocho told me everything — I’m not mad.”

Rengoku’s shoulders tensed. “It was necessary. Again, I would have done it for any one of my comrades.”

Y/N felt like she’d been slapped.

“You keep saying that, yet you won’t look at me— why?” Her confusion and hurt were beginning to melt into anger. “If I am just another comrade, then you should be able to meet my eyes.”

Rengoku said nothing.

“What Uzui did for me— that was what comrades do,” Y/N continued, her voice growing stronger as her blood grew hotter. “But you? You and I both know you were under no obligation to bring me back from the brink of death the way you did.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Y/L/N,” Rengoku answered after a long moment.

Y/N took a step towards him. “I want to know why.”

“It was necessary.”

Y/N felt like throttling him.

How long had they danced around each other? How many times had they caught themselves staring at the other for a breath longer than normal, had allowed an otherwise friendly touch during a spar linger?

How could he have held her, half nude for hours, putting himself on the brink of death all for the sake of keeping her alive — and then tell her she was the same as any other comrade?

“What are we doing Rengoku -- is this to be our destiny?” Y/N demanded, exasperatedly, her voice hard. “We continue to pretend like we don’t care about one another until one of us dies?”

Rengoku remained silent, back still turned away from her.

“We’ve each had a near-death experience in a matter of months,” Y/N continued, throat working hard to keep her voice steady despite the telling burn of angry tears in her eyes. “By all accounts, one if not both of us should be dead.”

“And yet, somehow, you expect me to act as though the fact you carried me back here— that you put yourself on death’s door to keep my heart beating — doesn’t mean anything?”

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for him to fight so hard for her, to make her believe that someone valued her life that much, only to cast her aside.

She hadn’t wanted to wake up, initially; she’d felt relief for the hair’s breadth she’d thought she’d finally met her end. He was the one who dragged her back, and now he wouldn’t even look at her.

It didn’t make sense.

Y/N’s fists shook beside her, and she felt the venomous words fly from her mouth before she could stop them.

“You should’ve let me die.”

No sooner had she let the poison drip from her mouth had she felt herself flying backward, back slamming against the nearest wall of her temporary room.

“Never,” Rengoku snarled at her, his arm pressing firmly against her shoulders to hold her in place against the wood. “Never say those words to me again.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, and she trembled beneath him, her fury threatening to explode out of her.

“There is no place on this earth where you could be in peril and I would not find you,” he said quietly, his eyes a simmering, fiery orange. “Where I wouldn’t find a way to bring you back home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said softly, breath still coming hard from her nose but no longer from her anger.

“Doesn’t it?” Rengoku was close, dangerously close.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance that barely existed between Rengoku’s face and hers and finally be done with all the nonsense. But he had spent so much time avoiding her gaze until that moment, and Y/N felt more lost than ever, set adrift by the look of heat and longing that was mixed with the burning rage in his eyes.

Something tugged incessantly at her gut and it would not allow her to move from her place against her recovery room’s wall.

Instead, her arms came up to rest against Rengoku’s chest before gently, but firmly, pushing him away.

“No, it doesn’t.” She repeated. “And I am tired, Rengoku.”

The Flame Pillar allowed himself to be pushed away, but he looked at her with a small, cruel smile.

“Then you’re right; it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

She flinched against the ugly slap of his words. Y/N had expected him to hit back, but she hadn’t anticipated his venom to sting as much as it did.

She felt all of the fight within her gutter out, leaving her with nothing but a heavy weight in her chest that she wished she couldn’t feel.

“Y/L/N, I-“ the Flame Pillar almost sounded remorseful.

“Thank you, for your clarification, Lord Rengoku,” she said numbly, formally, parroting his earlier tone with her. “And thank you for your assistance that night. Please, next time — don’t trouble yourself.”

Rengoku hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach for her. He swallowed hard, and turned away, shutting the door to Y/N’s infirmary.

The moment the door at clicked shut, Y/N exhaled harshly, stumbling back against her bed as she hugged her arms around herself, and she tried to keep herself from falling apart.

It shouldn’t have hurt this bad. They were both in the Demon Slayer Corps; they saved strangers all the time without it ever meaning anything other than good will and a desire to exterminate all demons.

So why did his insistence that she was no different hurt so badly?

Because she wasn’t a stranger.

Because, while she’d always known she wasn’t his, she’d still thought she’d been something.

As Y/N curled against her blanket, an unsettling numbness began to spread from her heart, quieting even the dull ache from the scar across her belly, Y/N realized that she’d meant nothing to the Flame Pillar all along.

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

(Kyojuro’s POV)

He hated himself.

He utterly and truly despised himself.

He’d been hurt by her insistence that she did not know his feelings even though he was the one who’d opened the door, yet somehow, it still felt like a rejection.

So he’d hit back, only for her to visibly recoil at the sharp blow of his words.

He would not forgive himself, for as long as he lived, for the way the light in her eyes had winked out.

He did not know what bothered him more: the fact that she’d assumed that he regretted keeping her alive, or that she’d said “next time” he needn’t bother. As though she were counting on there being a next time.

He knew he should turn around; knew that he should barge back into her hospital room, drop to his knees, and beg her to forgive his cruelty.

He knew that he should explain to her why he found it so difficult to admit his feelings for her — that he had watched his father turn into a shell of a man and abandon his children in the wake of their mother’s death, leaving them to raise themselves. That he had vowed, as he’d watched his father drink his days away, that he would never be like him, would never abandon those who relied on him most.

He’d promised that he would never be a coward, even if, in all honesty, the idea that he, Kyojuro, could ever love someone that fiercely only to have them ripped from his grasp terrified him to no end.

As he forced his legs to carry him to back to his estate, Kyojuro wondered if perhaps, in his desperation not to turn into his father, he’d become the old man after all.

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

(Shinobu’s POV)

Shinobu felt the Flame Pillar’s presence in her office before she saw him, though she was in no rush to give him his salve, especially not after what she’d overheard him spit at her friend.

“If you do not mind, I would like to send my crow to collect this from here on,” Rengoku said tightly, and Shinobu could sense his failing attempt to keep his fury in check.

“Very well then,” the Insect Pillar responded just as tersely, turning away from the papers and books on her desk to pull out the small tin containing the salve the Flame Pillar used to soothe the ache of the scar he now bore across his pectoral and shoulder. Rather than handing it to him, she tossed it through the air, the Flame Hashira catching it swiftly in his hand.

Rengoku nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

“I didn’t realize it was against Corps’ rules to care about our comrades,” Shinobu said icily, if not to signal to him that there had been spectators to his ugly outburst.

He couldn’t resist taking her bait. “Maybe it should be. It would be easier that way — for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Kocho sneered, no hint of familiarity or kindness in her features; nothing but that poisonous, deadly smile. “Well, if that was the case, then you would’ve preferred Uzui to leave Y/L/N for dead among the rubble in Yoshiwara, correct?

“You would rather us be searching to fill the newest Hashira vacancy, with her corpse barely cold in the ground-“

“Do not say another word, Kocho.” Rengoku warned, quietly.

But for Shinobu, anger was her vice, and so his warning only spurred her on.

“Tell me, Rengoku, if the new Pillar had been a woman, would you have held her the way you held Y/N?”

Shinobu’s smile was chilling as she relished the way the Flame Pillar began to tremble. “Or perhaps, would you finally confess to her, having learned your lesson from the missed opportunity with Y/N? Would you live out your days with her, while Y/N rotted below the earth, having never known someone loved her?”

“ENOUGH.” Rengoku roared, and for a moment, Shinobu thought the Flame Pillar might put his clenched fist through her wall. The silence that followed was tense and long as Rengoku struggled to calm his breathing.

“What do you want from me, Kocho?” Rengoku finally snapped, wheeling around to glower at the Insect Pillar, eyes half-crazed in his frustration.

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

(Two months earlier)

Dawn was still far off, but the hall of her estate was a mess.

Shinobu knew that at any moment, another group of Kakushi would be coming through the hole Rengoku had left in her wall bearing the unconscious body of the Sound Pillar, and if they did so, they’d be stumbling upon the chaotic scene that had unfolded before.

Rengoku was still on the floor, legs on either side of Y/N, who was slumped against his chest and fully exposed from the waist up.

With some satisfaction, Shinobu noted that the dark purple bruising around Y/N’s chest was clearing, a sure sign that she had chosen the correct antidote for the Flame Hashira to slam into her heart.

But her hypothermia persisted.

Rengoku, on the other hand, was beginning to breathe rather loudly, no doubt as he continued to maintain his high fever for the sake of the unmoving woman braced between his thighs.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu crouched down next to the Flame Pillar, her hand coming to a rest on his shoulder, which burned beneath her palm. “Rengoku, we need to move.”

The man lifted his head up to meet her eyes, his own glassy and unfocused. Shinobu clamped down on the swear building on her tongue — he had fever fog.

Rengoku grunted at her before his head slumped back down, chin nearly touching his chest.

Shinobu tried again. “Rengoku, we are in the open hallway of the Butterfly Mansion. Others will be arriving soon. Y/N is completed exposed.”

That seemed to get his attention. Rengoku’s head lifted, his eyes narrowed slits, but nonetheless open. He grunted in some sort of acknowledgement and began to shift Y/N in his lap.

He turned the unconscious Ice Pillar so that her back rested against one arm that curled around her bare waist. His free arm slid to grip beneath her knees, shifting her into a bridal-style position to carry her.

Two of the Butterfly Mansion’s staff moved to help him stand, but Rengoku shrugged them off, surprising Shinobu as he managed to rise steadily to his feet, Y/N secured against his chest.

He looked at Shinobu expectantly and she began ushering him towards a secluded wing of the Manor, towards her private hall. Across from her personal office was a special infirmary room, walled off from the rest of the recovery ward.

Shinobu withdrew a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the heavy, wooden door.

“You two can stay in here until her body temperature returns to normal,” She said, as Rengoku made his way towards the recovery bed.

Shinobu watched as Rengoku, still wearing his zori and uniform pants, ever so gently lowered himself and Y/N down on the bed, repeating his earlier positioning of her between his thighs. He propped up one leg slightly to keep the Ice Pillar from slumping over, her back pressed to his bare chest. Rengoku leaned against the headboard so that Y/N’s head could rest against his clavicle, though it slumped instead towards her left shoulder.

Shinobu made to grab a blanket to throw over the two topless Hashira but stopped short as Rengoku made to move again.

He seemed to realize that Y/N, while also still in her torn uniform pants and zori, was still bare from the waist up, her body positioned towards the door. He frowned, his hand coming up to graze the side of her arm. He flinched slightly, no doubt at the persistent chill that lingered on her skin, and he moved both of his large hands down over the back of hers as they lay limply on either side of her thighs, intertwining their fingers.

Awestruck, Shinobu watched as Rengoku brought Y/N’s arms up to cross them over her chest, locking them in place by covering her arms with his own, as though wrapping her in a sweet embrace. Shinobu knew that he’d done so to avoid touching her bare breasts himself, or at least to do so as minimally as possible, while still providing her cover. And, due to the breadth of Rengoku’s muscled forearms, Y/N’s sensitive area was almost entirely obscured from view.

Rengoku had barely been clinging to consciousness himself, and once she was sufficiently hidden in his arms, his head dropped forward until his forehead came to a rest on Y/N’s shoulder, opposite of where she’d rolled her head.

To the unassuming eye, it would have appeared as though the pair of Hashira were simply engaged in an intimate moment, rather than one desperately trying to anchor the other to life.

Shinobu moved to place the blanket over the Pillars’ laps, before quietly exiting the private room.

“Seal this wing off entirely,” she murmured to Aoi, who had been waiting dutifully outside. “No one comes down here without my explicit permission.”

Aoi bowed to her before she ushered the other Kakushi out. Faintly, Shinobu heard the arriving shouts of the group bearing the Sound Pillar. She took a single deep breath, steeling herself once more, before moving to check on her incoming patient.

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

Shinobu raised her chin, looking down her nose at him in disgust. “I’m waiting for the man who would have set the world ablaze to save Y/N to reappear.”

She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m waiting for the man who used his own body as her lifeline, and who tried to smash open the infirmary door when he was delirious with fever because he thought that she had died while he was asleep.”

The Insect Pillar’s masked smile finally slipped from her face and her true rage towards the Flame Pillar shone through. “It is cruel to make her feel as though she’s done something wrong,” Shinobu’s arms folded across her chest. “And it is cruel to you both for you to pretend as though she does not mean anything to you. Haven’t you both been through enough? Are you not exhausted as well?”

A tortured look passed over Rengoku’s face. “It is better this way, Kocho. I do not want to be the cause of her pain, and I cannot survive going through what happened to her again.

“For all your talk about either of you dying, I’ve yet to hear you mention the equal alternative,” Shinobu sighed, gathering her papers and books. “The one where we win and you both live. What do you suppose happens then?”

Rengoku said nothing and so, Shinobu continued. “Suppose we emerge victorious – would you truly prefer for you and Y/N to go your separate ways – to never see one another again, or never acknowledge the bond the two of you share?”

“There is no guarantee that either of us survives, Kocho,” Rengoku said quietly, his eyes falling to his feet.

Shinobu smiled but it was no longer cruel or bitter; it was wistful. “And there is no guarantee that either of you die. That’s the fickle nature of humanity, is it not? The very reason we fight?”

The Insect Pillar gathered her papers and stacked them neatly on her shelf. “For the possibilities of it all.”

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

The sun was high in the sky by the time Shinobu had a moment to check on the two unconscious pillars in the back room.

Uzui had required quite a bit of attention in order to stop the poison from becoming deadly, though the fact that her combination of the wisteria antidote with the amphetamine had been so effective on Y/N meant that Shinobu was able to administer the same to the Sound Pillar in half the time.

She was exhausted; the strain of the night’s events weighed heavily on her, but she had to check on Y/N’s temperature — if the Ice Pillar still had not recovered, she feared that hope was lost.

She pushed the door to the private infirmary room open and saw the two Hashira, still in the same position she’d left them in. Rengoku was deeply asleep, no doubt from the exhaustion wrought by his high fever.

Enclosed within his arms, Y/N remained unconscious but pink.

Shinobu felt the relief course through her, but she did not allow herself to relax until she reached out a hand to lightly pinch the Ice Pillar’s cheek.

It bloomed red beneath her fingers, and it was warm to the touch.

He’d done it. The Flame Pillar had staved off her hypothermia. Their only obstacle now lay in getting her to reawaken.

Shinobu laid her hand across Rengoku’s forehead, frowning at the scorching heat of his brow; his fever had worsened more than she’d anticipated, and he would need intervention soon. She turned to nod at the Kakushi who waited by the door to the recovery room, and the three of them moved to separate the Flame and Ice Pillars.

“Put him in one of the other single-recovery rooms. Tell Aoi to administer the fever medication I keep in my cabinet – it should dispel his fever within a few hours.” Shinobu ordered, as the Kakushi, with great effort, lifted the Flame Pillar from his position behind Y/N. Shinobu gently eased her friend down against the bed and pulled a blanket over her exposed torso. “I will also need a fresh hospital gown for Lady Y/L/N.”

The Kakushi nodded their assent and got to work, heaving the unconscious Flame Pillar towards the door when he awoke. At first, his eyes were dazed, and confused as they darted around him, but as he took in his surroundings, he began to struggle against the grip of the Kakushi.

“Please, Lord Rengoku, your fever is dangerously high! Allow us to help!” One of them cried, though his efforts to tug the Pillar away were futile. Shinobu supposed the only reason he had not yet succeeded in completely throwing them off was the fact that his fever had severely weakened him.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sternly, coming around from her position by Y/N to meet his eyes, though he only thrashed harder against the Kakushi as he began to mutter incoherently under his breath. “Rengoku, that’s enough. You’re safe. You’re in the Butterfly Mansion, and you have a high fever. Please, let the Kakushi do their job.”

But the Insect Pillar’s words fell on deaf ears as Rengoku began to hyperventilate, his muscles straining as he tried desperately to break free from the Kakushi’s hold. Shinobu was at a loss; her comrade did not merely look frantic – he looked terrified, desperate, and utterly beyond reproach or reason. His heart rate had spiked considerably, and his breath was jerky and uneven, as though he could not fully understand where he was or that he was amongst friends.

As she strained to make out what the Flame Pillar repeated, over and over, under his breath, Shinobu realized that his eyes were not unfocused at all; they were locked on the unconscious Ice Pillar in the bed behind her.

“I can still save her!” he roared.

It all made sense then.

Shinobu realized that he thought they were moving him not because he’d successfully thwarted her hypothermia, but because he had failed — and that she was now dead.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sharply, trying to force the irate and delirious Flame Pillar to meet her eyes. “Rengoku, Y/N is alive. Her body temperature has returned to normal. She is safe.”

But the Flame Pillar seemed not to hear her, as he only struggled harder against the Kakushi desperately trying to usher him out of Y/N’s room.

Rengoku was becoming more violent, even as the Kakushi finally managed to shove him through the doorway of Y/N’s room. Just before they’d managed to slam the door shut, Shinobu caught Aoi’s eye and nodded, the younger girl quickly disappeared into the Pillar’s office.

Shinobu watched in stunned silence as the Flame Pillar broke free from the Kakushi and began hurtling his body against the door, Y/N’s name falling from his lips in an anguished chant.

Rengoku was so delirious in his fevered panic that he did not notice Aoi slip behind him and plunge a syringe into his neck, depositing a thick stream of the clear liquid that Shinobu knew would have a near-instantaneous effect on his consciousness.

The Insect Pillar felt a strange sense of pity and remorse as she watched her friend slump to the floor outside of the infirmary room, a final cry out for the Ice Pillar falling from his lips before the sedative lulled him back to sleep.

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

(Kyojuro’s POV – three days later)

He didn’t know why he’d returned to the Butterfly Mansion.

Kyojuro tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to wait for his crow to return with Kocho’s salve, but he knew it was a pathetic excuse. He’d sworn to himself that he would leave Y/L/N alone after their last argument. He’d vowed that the door between them had been closed for good, and they would only ever be colleagues. Nothing more.

But he couldn’t stay away. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the last few days stewing over their last argument, and somewhere, amidst his endless supply of self-hatred, he’d also grown angry with the Ice Pillar.

Angry, because she had put herself in harm’s way when he’d specifically told her not to.

Angry because she’d nearly died, and she’d threatened to take the last vestiges of his sanity with her to the afterlife.

Angry that she insisted on remaining in the Demon Slayer Corps despite having given more than enough of herself to their cause; angry that she didn’t understand why he couldn’t yet do the same.

Angry because she didn’t seem to understand his feelings at all.

Perhaps in another life, they could have had each other. Had they both been born into a world without demons, then maybe they would have still found each other and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to love her the way she deserved.

But for Kyojuro, their relationship would always be defined by a series of maybes, and nothing more.

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

It would have been a lie for Kyojuro to say he’d not been struck dumb by her.

She was stretched out on the steps of Kocho’s engawa, legs dangling off the edge of the porch as she leaned back on her elbows, eyes closed dreamily as she kept her face tilted up towards the cooling night air.

Long, lean, bare legs, he realized, an uncomfortable heat creeping up his collar. He couldn’t help running his eyes up their length, fixating hard on the supple curves of her thighs.

Why were her legs bare?

She looked…so unguarded this way. Her haori was draped around her shoulders, one of its sleeves hanging loosely to the side and exposing her bare shoulder – how exposed was she, the idiot – and her hair was completely unbound, falling in a silken river to her waist.

It was a stark contrast to the braided crown she wore at the base of her neck. It hit him that, not counting the night she’d nearly died, he had not otherwise seen her with her hair down.

He liked it. A lot.

“I finally rid myself of one migraine only for another to appear,” Y/N’s lofty voice snapped him out of his reverence, as the Ice Pillar opened her eyes to glare at him.

“If you’ve come for Shinobu, she is not here. She’s on an errand and will not be back until early morning.” Y/N turned her attention away from him and back towards the garden, her voice stony.

At that moment, there were a million things Kyojuro could have said to the Ice Pillar.

How are you?

I missed the way you glare at me.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Any of those options would have been far better than what came tumbling out of his mouth.

“I hadn’t realized you were indecent. My apologies.”

Y/N’s head snapped back to him, her eyes chips of ice. “Indecent?” She rose from her seat on the engawa and faced him fully, and Rengoku nearly groaned.

Indecent, indeed.

Y/N was showing more skin than Kanroji did on a regular day. As she stood, Rengoku saw that she was hardly wearing any clothing at all, save for the haori draped loosely around her frame.

The Ice Pillar wore no top but the bindings around her chest, leaving a sizeable swath of her midriff exposed to the summer air. Whatever she wore as bottoms could hardly be labeled as “pants,” given that their hem ended just short of the middle of her thigh, leaving the vast majority of her legs exposed to anyone who would happen to walk by.

The Flame Pillar felt as though he were overheating, and he tugged uselessly at the collar of his uniform shirt. As he looked over the scowling Ice Pillar, Rengoku found himself unable to remember why he had come to the Mansion at all.

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

(Y/N’s POV)

(Earlier that day)

“Ta-da!” Mitsuri sang as she pulled the small bundle from behind her, a grin wide on her face. “A gift from Shinobu and myself!”

Y/N peered down quizzically at the small, folded bunch of cloth in the Love Pillar’s hands. “What is it?”

“A new take on the Corps’ uniform,” Shinobu replied crisply, sitting down on the tatami floor of her office. “I designed it myself, and Mitsuri sewed it.”

“But what is it?” Y/N pressed.

Mitsuri joined Shinobu on the floor. “Your new training pants. Altered, so that you have more flexibility and less irritation against your wound.”

Y/N held up the tiny scrap of fabric between her index finger and thumb. “Are you telling me these are pants?”

Mitsuri and Shinobu nodded, smiling.

Y/N looked incredulously at the two women. “But where are the pants?”

Mitsuri laughed. “Think of it as a cross between the uniform skirt and pants, but more modified.”

Shinobu nodded. “I used the same material that our uniform is made out of but designed it in a way to be more flexible – it will mold to your body rather than require you to use a belt to keep it up.” Y/N unfurled the cloth and gaped down at it. “They likely aren’t suitable for public, but around here and during your training, they should be perfectly adequate.”

“Perfectly adequate?” Y/N repeated, turning the garment over in her hands. “Shinobu, these are underclothes! Not pants!” The Ice Pillar could not stop herself from giggling. “My legs will be entirely exposed!”

“Try them on!” Mitsuri urged. “Shinobu and I estimated they would hit around mid-thigh, so you’ll still have some coverage.” Mitsuri looked down at her own skirt in consideration. “Slightly more so than I do.”

Y/N groaned but removed her uniform pants and slid into her friends’ gift. She was surprised at how comfortable they felt; they had a similar feel to the chest bindings most of the women in the Corps wore, in terms of fit. The black bottoms had no true waistband, but fit snuggly at the dip of her waist, before hugging her hips and thighs until the hem cut right above the middle of her thigh.

“How do they feel?” Shinobu asked as Y/N inspected the new garment.

Y/N turned from side to side, testing their flexibility. “Good. They don’t seem to rub against the scar at all.” Y/N smiled devilishly at her friends. “Even if they do leave little to the imagination.”

MItsuri giggled. “I hadn’t noticed Y/N, but you have – oh, what did Uzui call it?” She scrunched her eyebrows in thought. “Oh! An ‘easy and deliverable type of butt!’” The three girls laughed, carefree as Y/N wiggled her hips suggestively in front of her friends, her heart warm at the care and consideration they had put into their gift.

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

Y/N mused that Mitsuri’s assessment of how she looked in the undershorts had been correct as Rengoku’s eyes raked over her as she stood tall before him, an unmistakable glint of hunger glowing in his amber pools.

Until they snagged on the thick, curved gash that extended from the band of her bottoms to just over her belly button.

In an instant, simmering fire of the Flame Pillar’s gaze had been snuffed out, something harder and colder taking over as he glared at where Upper Moon Six had buried his poisoned sickle within her.

Under any other circumstance, Y/N might have felt self-conscious at the mixture of frigid contempt that pulled on Rengoku’s face as he ran his eyes over her scar, but at that moment, it only made her blood boil.

“You should return to your room. You shouldn’t be out here exposed like this.” Rengoku said after a moment, his eyes moving away from her to stare over her shoulder, resolutely avoiding her gaze.

Y/N wondered briefly if it were possible to make someone combust with the fire of their stare. She was so tired and so angry at the way in which he demanded she stay at arm’s length yet felt utterly entitled to boss her around.

She decided then that she would not comply. Instead, Y/N took one step and then another, and again until she pushed past him, marching intently up the path she knew led away from the Butterfly Estate and to a secluded, grassy, hilled clifftop.

“Stop — Y/L/N” Rengoku growled, lunging after her, but Y/N, despite her injured state, was still faster than he, and she twisted out of his grasp before he could grab her and haul her back to the Mansion.

She probably looked insane, and maybe she was -- barely dressed, hair unbound, and striding towards that grassy hill up the winding path from Shinobu’s estate like she had any idea what she was doing.

The Flame Pillar followed.

—————————————————————--------

Apart from her close friendship with the Insect Pillar, there was another reason Y/N spent so much time in and around the Butterfly Mansion — its view.

Though she supposed this secret area she’d discovered couldn’t really be counted as part of Shinobu’s Estate — it was, after all, up a rather steep and twisting climb from the western-most point of her friend’s manor, and one could scarcely see the lights of the house once they ascended the small cliff.

Her thighs ached after nearly two months of disuse as she stormed up the steep incline, narrowly avoiding the sharp, twisting branches of the ancient trees that had concaved over the beaten path, forming a tunnel of gnarled wood that forced her to duck her head to navigate.

Y/N’s chest tightened as she neared the end of the path, the steady beat of the Flame Pillar’s footsteps trailing closely behind her.

When she finally emerged from the thicket of branches, she felt as though she could breathe again.

The path had given way to a cliff-top clearing. Soft, emerald grass covered the earthen floor, peppered with various wildflowers in vibrant hues of periwinkle, white, and pink. Towards the center was a thick, ancient oak tree, with a trunk as wide as a small hut, Its leaves ruffled lazily in the slight summer breeze. Fat hotaru floated idly above the grass while the crickets hummed.

The clearing extended to a point before dropping into a rocky cliff. Had it been a night of a new moon, Y/N would never risk coming out here for fear of stumbling too close to the cliff’s edge. But that night, the moon was full and its silver light was so bright that Y/N could see all the way to the opposite of the clearing, down to the summer irises swaying in the warm night air.

It was a pity that instead of feeling the warm serenity she normally had when she came out to her little hideaway, she felt nothing but boiling anger and a growing headache.

“You need to go back inside,” Rengoku said from behind her. Y/N ground her teeth, turning sharply on her heel to face him.

“Why do you care — I thought you only did that when I’m unconscious.” She bit back, and it felt good to see him be the one who flinched for once. “Or maybe it’s when you think I’m dying?”

She laughed, derisively. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve long since forgotten the rules of your game. You change them so often, you see.”

“Go back to the Butterfly Mansion, Y/L/N. You shouldn’t be out here. Not in your current state.” He said, voice as hard and unforgiving as stone.

“I’ve told you already that you are not in a position to order me around!” Y/N snapped, her words and her eyes chips of ice as she glared at him.

He was so infuriating — he had told her, in so many ways, that she meant nothing to him, and yet here he was, glowering at her as though her very existence incensed him.

“You’ve been nothing but unkind to me since I awoke, and you’ve given me no explanation!” She took a step towards him.

“Stop,” the Flame Pillar bit out, barely concealing the way he trembled with rage. “Do not take another step. Turn around and go back inside.”

If Y/N had looked pissed before, she looked downright furious now.

“Why did you come to see me while I was unconscious?” Y/N demanded, shaking. “You came every day, yet the second I wake up, you stop?”

His refusal to answer her, to even look at her, only made her seethe.

“You’re a coward, Rengoku.”

Rengoku’s teeth gnashed together, his fists balling tightly by his sides as he drew upon every ounce last shred of sanity, of restraint, left within him.

“Go. In. Side.” He ground out dangerously, his voice dropping into a growl on the last syllable.

But the Ice Pillar took another step towards him, her eyes blazing with a fire that could outburn his own.

“No.”

Rengoku’s jaw flexed. “Y/L/N-“

“I said no, Rengoku.” She was now within arm’s reach of the rigid Flame Pillar.

His eyes met hers, cold and hard, but she did not balk. She went in for the kill. “You have no say over my choices when my life is meaningless to you.”

Y/N watched the blow land, and land hard.

“Meaningless?” Rengoku looked at her and there was a new fire in his gaze, a hot, angry fire that threatened to burn the grassy overlook around them to cinders. “You believe I think your life is meaningless?”

This time, it was Rengoku who advanced towards her, bringing her within an arm’s length, and forcing her to tilt her head up to hold his raging stare.

“Do you have any idea — any at all — what it was like to see you, half dead in Uzui’s arms?” Rengoku’s voice dark, and harsh as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Or what it was like to have to carry you to Kocho, not knowing whether your heart would give out before I could get you there?”

Y/N refused to cower beneath the intensity of his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. “Do I know what it was like?” She hissed; hackles raised.

“Thank you Rengoku, truly — thank you.” Y/N laughed, but it was devoid of any humor. “I am so glad that you’ve finally given me something to work with — so those are your rules, are they?” She was toe to toe with the Flame Hashira, glowering down at her.

“Well since we’re keeping score, Rengoku, do you know what it was like to see you broken and bleeding out on Kocho’s table after the incident on the train?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Rengoku shot back bitterly.

“How the fuck is it not-?”

“Because it wasn’t your mission to take!” Rengoku finally broke, his voice rising to a shout. He could not stop himself as his hands shot out and gripped Y/N’s shoulders, shaking her lightly in his torment.

“You have no idea how it felt to know that you had died — no matter how briefly — because you went on a mission in my place!”

“To know that — that you could still die because I had been too weak on that fucking train. Your death would have been my fault, Y/N!”

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

(Kyojuro’s POV)

And there it was: the truth that he had tried so hard to suppress, laid flat out in the open.

Everything that had happened to Y/N, the whole entire mess — had been entirely his fault.

His fault because he had been too weak to finish off Upper Moon Three, too weak to do anything but let the demon’s punch a hole through his chest like it was nothing.

Y/L/N and Uzui had saved themselves in the end; they’d completed their mission, defeating not just one, but two upper ranks. They hadn’t succumbed to their injuries until after they’d fulfilled their duties.

But him? He’d only been saved by the grace of the sun and the tireless efforts of the Kakushi.

He’d nearly lost his life and he had nothing to show for it. Rather than do anything to further the Corp’s ultimate goals, he’d only set them back, and nearly cost them something priceless in return — their Ice Pillar.

The woman he loved.

He had no right to love her, of course — not when his reprehensible weakness had forced her to be offered up to two upper moon demons on a silver platter.

She’d been there, the morning he awoke from his three-week-long coma. She’d been right by his bedside, a sob choking from her throat as she’d called for Kocho to come quick!

At first, he’d been confused, because he hadn’t understood why she was crying. He’d tried to reach for her, to wipe the tears spilling down her cheeks when the pain had slammed into him, causing him to seize, arm suspended in mid-air.

Never before had he not been in control of his body; it had sent him into a panic.

“No, Kyojuro, please don’t move!” Y/N had cried, calling him, for the first time, by his given name. a warm hand wrapping around the one he’d stretched out towards her, lowering it gently down to the bed. “Your injuries are too grave!”

He didn’t remember much after that, only what Kocho had filled him in on later — namely, that he’d begun to panic, his breathing flaring out of control as he’d tried to fight off Y/L/N, a Kakushi, and the Insect Pillar.

His recovery had been long and slow. His wounds from the Upper Three demon had resulted in significant muscle damage that had required weeks of intensive care and training in order to build it back up again.

Those long days spent at the Butterfly Mansion had given him time to stew; to rage against himself. He’d been frustrated, so unbelievably frustrated over his inability to swing his own sword for more than five minutes that he almost considered giving in and retiring.

And then Uzui arrived, and he’d mentioned an upcoming mission to the Entertainment District, that they had discussed prior to Kyojuro leaving for the damned train, and the Sound Pillar revealed that his intel suggested the possible presence of an Upper Rank.

Kyojuro had promised to accompany him, and then he’d woken up in Kocho’s hospital, and that mission had been taken off the table and given to her.

The panic he had felt had been indescribable; he had narrowly survived an encounter with an Upper Rank, but then he was forced to watch the woman he loved walk straight into the wolf's den, and he had been incapable of convincing her to stay behind.

While she had been gone, he had railed against and prayed to and cursed at the gods, begging them to bring her home, to let her come back to him alive and whole.

Instead, they’d sent her back as a near-corpse and had laughed at his pitiful attempts to save her.

And then, she had straddled that narrow divide between life and death for nearly two months, and he had been as helpless as a cat chasing a string — his desire forever in sight yet somehow always just beyond his reach.

After his brush with death, he’d made a commitment to himself not to think of his battle with the Upper Three demon, to not waste his skill and energy on the past, but rather focus his fury on ensuring that when they did meet again, he would emerge victorious. He’d certainly not given any thought to the demon’s slime-tongued words.

He’d been disgusted when the demon had propositioned turning him into its like — and outright offended that those creatures could ever compare to the beautiful transience of humanity.

But then he’d cradled Y/N, broken and dying in his arms, and for the first time, Kyojuro had understood the appeal of the Upper Three’s offer.

Because he would rather have lived in a world in which Y/N had been turned into his enemy than in one in which she did not exist at all.

The very thought had shaken him to his core; because it meant he was not fully dedicated to their cause. He had no right to call himself a Hashira; nor did he have any right to claim to love Y/L/N. Not when he’d so easily damn her out of his own selfishness. So he had run.

A coward, after all.

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

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was panting, her fury rippling off her in near-tangible waves.

“So, this whole thing,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “Your whole fucking attitude — has been because you’ve had your head so far up your ass, that you thought my injuries were your fault?”

It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. And yet it was so Rengoku that it made her ears ring, made her see red as she tried to keep herself from imploding.

Rengoku said nothing, but she could see the way his eyes shuttered closed, his walls flying back up as he remained intent on keeping her out. He turned and began walking back towards the path back to the Estates.

“I was right — you ARE a coward!” She shrieked after him.

He froze. She stood there, heaving, daring him to turn around, to face her.

“Do not call me a coward again,” he said quietly, his back still to her, but his shoulders tensed, his fists balling once more at his sides.

Y/N smiled ruefully. “Then exactly what would you call what you’re doing now?.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Run away, Rengoku. It’s what you do best.”

A flash of orange and white clouded her vision as Rengoku turned on his heel and closed the distance between them before she could draw another breath.

Y/N did not have time to react before his hands gripped either side of her jaw as he slammed his mouth down against hers, furious and heated.

It was not gentle; it was an angry clash of lips and teeth, but it also stoked a fire so hot in Y/N’s belly that she did not care, and she fully gave herself over to the bruising press of his lips against hers. She gladly opened up to him so that his tongue could slide into her mouth as one of his hands snaked behind her head to press her harder to him, demanding that she let him take and take until he was sated.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. They broke apart with a gasp, leaping back from one another as though burned. Their chests heaved as they stared at one another.

There was a line drawn in the sand between them. If either of them crossed it, there would be no going back.

He was a coward, but she wasn’t. And she’d grown tired of this tedious dance of theirs.

Yet it surprised her all the same that he reached for her at the same time she moved for him, the two of them colliding like magnets as their mouths clashed together once more.

Rengoku kissed her like he was drowning, and she was his lifeline.

Y/N threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down closer to her, determined to take from him as much as he wanted to take from her.

The pair of them stumbled back against the ancient oak tree that sat back from the grassy cliff, Y/N caged against its bark by the Flame Pillar.

His hands gripped fistfuls of her haori as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or tug her away. His lips devoured each breathy moan he pulled from her as one hand tangled in her hair and pulled, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She ran her hands through the fiery strands of his hair, gripping and tugging it as he explored her mouth was his demanding tongue. Y/N, emboldened by the way his fingers dug into her haori, let her hands roam from his hair and to his neck, and then to the rocky planes of his broad chest before settling on his hips as she tugged him flush against her.

His control was slipping, and fast. “Y/L/N, I can’t- I won’t be able to hold back.” Rengoku moaned into her mouth, his hands scrunching the fabric of her haori, his fingers desperately seeking to hold her closer to him. “Tell me to stop, Y/L/N.”

Y/N’s hands only buried deeper into his hair, tugging him harder against her as she slid her tongue into his waiting mouth.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth between breaks for oxygen. “Never stop, Rengoku.”

Y/N pulled back from him, just enough to unlatch his hands from where they were buried in the back of her haori, and moved them inside its folds, right on her bare waist.

The burning weight of his hands felt exquisite.

Rengoku shuddered as he felt the smooth, soft dips of Y/N’s waist, his fingers digging into her flesh as he sought to touch more of her, his hands running across every inch that was not covered by her bindings or those glorious undershorts.

Lips still moving furiously against hers, Rengoku bent slightly to run his hands down the silken expanse of her thighs, gripping under her knees before hoisting her up to carry her away from the tree and lay her down in the velvety grass below.

Y/N felt as though she were on fire. The ache between her legs was almost maddening, and she was desperate to have the Flame Pillar sheathe himself inside her, to make her forget even her own name.

If she could not have his love, she could at least have this.

Her hands dragged down Rengoku’s front, coming to a rest at his belt before she began fumbling with the clasp. Y/N had just managed to undo it when Rengoku’s hands — large, warm, and much stronger than her own, wrapped around her wrists, stilling her.

“Not yet, you impatient woman,” he smirked against her mouth. He moved one wrist to join the other in his left hand before bringing her arms up over her head, pinning her to the ground.

Y/N whimpered and rolled her hips against his, impatient and demanding, wanting desperately to feel some relief as her core clenched wildly around nothing.

Rengoku chuckled darkly, the rich timbre of his voice causing her blood to nearly boil with her want, as he made his way down her body with his lips.

He first came to her chest bindings, growling in impatience as he nipped at one breast over the tightly wound fabric.

His fingers brushed against her sternum as he ripped her bindings straight down the middle, Y/N shuddering as the warm summer night’s air caressed her sensitive skin, her nipples pebbling at the change in temperature.

She waited for him to lavish her soft mounds, but the Flame Pillar paused, eyes narrowed on the valley between her breasts, right on the pale, lilac mark where he’d plunged Shinobu’s antidote into her heart.

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. He’d reacted poorly to the ribboned scar on her lower belly already, and now her once chance to finally have Rengoku in the way she’d so desperately longed to have him was about to be ruined.

But instead of pulling away from her in disgust, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against it the healed wound.

“I hadn’t realized I wounded you,” he murmured softly, reverently as he kissed it again. Y/N watched in bewilderment as he pressed his ear against her chest, letting his head rest there for a moment.

Listening to her heart hammer against her sternum.

“The sweetest music,” he whispered, pulling away to look at her not with lust but with unbounded tenderness.

Don’t look at me like that, she silently begged, don’t give me hope.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed and the esurient flame in Rengoku’s eyes flickered back to life. His lips continued down her abdomen, hot and needy until he reached the source of her near-fatal injury.

His mouth paused at the scar left by Upper Moon Six, the one he’d so callously glared at not even an hour before. This time, he ran his tongue along it, from the top to its base near her hipbone, pressing a fierce kiss against its end before continuing his descent.

“I will either have to thank my old Tsugoku the next time I see her,” Rengoku whispered darkly as he pulled at the soft waistband of Y/N’s undershorts with his teeth. “Or I shall have to burn her sewing room to cinders.” Rengoku’s fingers slid beneath the short hem of her bottoms, pulling them down inch by inch to expose her sensitive flesh.

Rengoku groaned when he saw Y/N was not wearing anything else beneath her scandalous bottoms. “Definitely burning.” His hands, so large and warm ran up the outer curve of her thighs, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin. “Because you are far too tempting when wearing them.”

The Flame Pillar looked wild as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the lower indent between Y/N’s hipbones as he kissed his way down to where she ached the most.

He ducked around the center of her desire in favor of sucking softly on her inner thigh. Y/N’s chest heaved as her hands flailed next to her, desperately seeking purchase, until the Flame Hashira caught them in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her palms as their fingers interlaced.

“Rengoku - just fuck me already,” Y/N groaned as the Flame Pillar’s face settled between her thighs, his hot breath against her bare cunt causing her legs to attempt to clench shut.

“Well now, that won’t do,” Rengoku tutted, his hands withdrawing from hers as he wound his arms underneath both of her thighs, spreading them as wide as he could to expose her core to his heady gaze.

Rengoku leaned forward and lightly traced up her damp slit with the tip of his tongue. His amber irises which had been locked on hers, rolled back into his head as he groaned at her taste.

“I’m going to take my time with you. I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, Y/N.” He warned, hands tightening around her thighs as he pressed a light kiss against her slit, teasing her.

In the back of her mind, Y/N registered that he’d used her first name. But the graze of his lips against her most sensitive flesh had her crying out his name, high-pitched and breathy, and she watched helplessly as the sound made Rengoku’s eyes turn black.

In an instant, he was upon her, and he was ravenous.

His mouth latched to her center as though she was an oasis in the middle of a blazing desert, and he was a man dying of thirst.

The way Rengoku’s teeth grazed her sensitive nub made her abdomen clench, and she fought against his ironclad grip on her thighs as they spasmed, desperate to clench around his head.

Y/N moaned, head thrown back into the soft summer grass as she felt herself grow wetter and wetter beneath the Flame Pillar, her hands desperately tugging and pinching at her breasts in an effort to feel more pleasure.

Y/N felt as though she was hurtling towards a cliff that she could not stop herself from tumbling over as Rengoku increased the intensity of his ministrations against her needy cunt.

“You taste,” he ground out through harsh drags of his tongue up her drenched folds, “like fucking paradise.”

His mouth latched around her clit, giving it a sharp suck that had Y/N seeing stars. She barely had time to recover, to acknowledge that she was at her tipping point when Rengoku thrust his tongue into her core and began to fuck her.

Y/N came apart the moment she felt his tongue enter her, a rush of her juices spilling over his relentless maw, but he held her hips down and continued his feast. His teeth grazed her clit over and over while his tongue pumped steadily in and out of her, and Y/N was close to sobbing at the overstimulation.

The Flame Pillar kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, the amber orbs glowing almost ominously in the indigo night.

“I- fuck.” Y/N breathed, grinding unrestrainedly against the blonde’s greedy mouth. “Rengoku!”

The Ice Pillar tried to sit up, tried to grab her comrade’s hair to tell him that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed him, but Rengoku was faster. Unfurling a steely arm from where it had been locked around her thigh to hold her open to him, he reached up her torso, his large hand splaying across her upper abdomen to restrain her.

“Sit down,” he growled between thrusts of his tongue into her aching cunt, nipping harshly at her inner thigh. “I am not finished.”

Y/N whimpered beneath the weight of his hand holding her down against the earth and the nearly painful ecstasy that Rengoku bestowed upon her between her legs.

Whether it was in praise for her obedience or a further act of torture, Rengoku then pressed his face flush against her core and rocked it harshly from side to side, his nose and the burgeoning stubble along his jaw scraping against her overstimulated and sensitive flesh.

Y/N slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle the howl that tore from her throat. Rengoku repeated the movement; it felt wonderful. It felt obscene. It made Y/N’s thighs contract around his head as her stomach dipped inward and a gush of her juices spilled out of her, more powerful than before, dampening the collar of the Flame Pillar’s haori.

For a breath, Y/N thought she would die of embarrassment until she felt Rengoku’s mouth vibrate against her from his groan of satisfaction. His tongue thrust once, twice more into her aching core before he withdrew completely, satisfaction tugging at the corners of his smirking lips.

But Rengoku looked nowhere near sated as he gazed down hungrily at her, wantonly spread out against the grass, the shredded pieces of her training attire strewn about, save for her haori.

“I will give you one last chance to end this now,” Rengoku whispered, kneeling above her but no longer touching her. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will walk away, and no one will know.”

Though her body already ached from the intensity of Rengoku’s mouth upon her, she could not fathom stopping here, not when she’d barely begun to taste him herself. The thought of rolling aside to pull on the tattered remains of her clothing, to return to her estate and awake tomorrow as though he had not melted every icy reservation she’d held with his touch, was enough to make her want to cry.

Though her limbs felt boneless, she summoned all her strength to reach toward the Flame Hashira, to beckon him to return to her.

“I want you, Rengoku,” Y/N said, her voice a breathy whisper as tears clung to her eyelashes. “Please.”

Rengoku’s pupils exploded, his eyes darkening as he covered her nude body with his own. Y/N nearly sobbed in relief as his lips roughly caught hers, one hand coming up to cradle her face while the other snaked beneath her head, tilting it to the side so he could deepen his claim over her mouth.

Y/N’s hands rose, shakily, to pull at the buttons of his uniform top, desperate to feel his skin burn against hers.

“On one condition,” Rengoku said, moving his lips from hers to press against her ear, Y/N shivering. “You must call me by my name,”

“Rengoku?” Y/N questioned her mind too fogged by her own desire.

He nipped lightly under her jaw before pulling his face back from hers, smirking slightly at the way she whined when avoided her attempt to kiss him again.

“My true name.”

With clarity, Y/N realized what he desired. But he had teased her far too much already, and she yearned to return the favor.

So she looked up at him through her eyelashes, teeth sinking into her lower lip in such a way that made the Flame Hashira’s eyes darken.

“Please, please, Kyojuro,” she whispered, lancing a hand up his bicep. “Take me.”

The growl that clawed its way out of the heaving chest of the Flame Pillar made Y//N’s thighs clamp together. Rengoku — Kyojuro — pounced on her, and Y/N summoned all her residual strength to rip his uniform shirt open.

Kyojuro moaned into her neck as his shirt gave way and Y/N’s hands came to rest against his bare skin, her nails raking down his taut pectorals to the rigid planes of his chiseled abdomen.

Her lips began descending the path carved by her nails when she drew short at the dark, thick starburst-shaped scar that covered his shoulder and left pectoral. Kyojuro’s breath seized as she pressed her lips ever so softly against it, turning so she could look up at him from beneath her lashes.

Kyojuro was panting as she nuzzled against his scar, kissing it once more before gently gliding her hand over his heart and resting it there, letting herself savor the strong, sturdy beat from within his chest.

Just as he did before, she resumed her trail down his body, her lips coming to the edge of his pants when his hands wound themselves in her hair, every nerve in his body alight as she licked her way up the small happy trail that stopped just below his belly button.

As much as he wanted to feel her mouth around him, Kyojuro had been driven to the brink of insanity by Y/N’s touch, and his resolve was quickly dwindling.

“Y/N — my flame — I can’t wait,” Kyojuro said by way of apology, as he covered her hands with his own to still them on his belt. He slipped his hands down to grip her wrists, bringing them together in one hand and moving her arms up over her head, pinning them against the grasp. With his free hand, Kyojuro loosened his belt and his pants, and shimmied them down, kicking them off behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of his proud length as it bounced against his belly button.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She was no stranger to the male body, but this – she’d never had anyone compare to Kyojuro’s size or girth.

Kyojuro noticed her hesitation. “Is this – have you ever --?” Kyojuro breathed, hovering above her. It did not matter to him whether she had or had not, but he wanted to ensure that he did not hurt her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not my first time – but you are the first one to be so…well endowed.” Y/N flushed as Kyojuro laughed softly above her, and she felt his lips graze hers.

He pulled back slightly, reaching to grip the base of his aching cock tapping it against her soaked cunt in a warning and in permission.

Y/N seized beneath him at the spark of hot pleasure that was sent crackling up her spine as he rubbed his velvety head against the most sensitive part of her core. “Kyojuro,” she hissed through clenched teeth, rolling her hips impatiently towards him.

The mushroomed tip of his cock pushed into her entrance and Y/N felt herself go cross-eyed. It was heaven; pure, unadulterated, blissful heaven.

He was insistent on easing his thick length into her, but the throbbing between Y/N’s legs had grown nearly unbearable. He still wasn’t close enough, not nearly as much as she needed him to be.

Boldly, Y/N locked her ankles against Kyojuro’s backside, and with all her might, hauled him into her in a single stroke.

“Fuck!” he yelled, unable to restrain his volume as Y/N forced him to become fully seated within her. Her core was impossibly tight and so fucking warm and wet that it had been a true exercise of self-restraint not to spill himself inside her right then.

Y/N nearly screamed in pleasured relief at the way her body burned and stretched around Kyojuro’s considerable length, his base pressed flush against her sensitive clit as she began to grind furiously against him, desperate to relieve the friction that made her ache.

Kyojuro was still panting from the way Y/N had slammed him into her, nearly trembling with restraint as he willed himself not to finish before they’d truly begun.

Once certain that he would not climax like some green boy, he laughed quietly under his breath. The dark sound caused Y/N’s eyes to fly open, and her stomach flipped at the wicked glint in his eyes as he stared at her like a hunter stalking its prey.

Kyojuro leaned forward and took one of her breasts, harshly into his mouth, grazing his teeth over her nipple hard enough to make Y/N cry out in slight pain before he lapped at it soothingly with his tongue.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He murmured between his ministrations, leaving fresh marks all over aching mounds.

Y/N could hardly make a sound as Kyojuro withdrew almost completely from her heat before slamming into her once, the Ice Pillar nearly choking on the breath that flew from her chest with his force.

Desperately — pathetically — Y/N nodded, whimpering.

“If that’s how you want it,” Kyojuro growled against her breast, giving her nipple one harsh nip with his teeth before pulling himself off her.

He sat on his knees, back straight as he began to pound relentlessly into her, his hands gripping her backside and holding her flush against his strong thighs. Y/N’s head remained thrown back against the earth, her fingers tearing at the soft grass beneath her.

Rengoku’s movements were just like those he wielded in battle — powerful; all-consuming; relentless; and unforgiving.

Y/N had never considered herself to be a particularly vocal person when engaged in carnal activities, but the way that Rengoku’s cock hammered into her spasming core over and over had reduced her to a moaning and whimpering mess. The only intelligible thing that fell from her lips was his name — Kyojuro.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” Kyojuro grunted out between forceful snaps of his hips against hers, the night air alive with the lewd squelching of Y/N’s dripping cunt as he pistoned into her.

Y/N looked to see the Flame Pillar’s eyes locked on her breasts as they bounced with the force of his thrusts. Between the moans and whimpers he pulled from her with every punishing thrust of his hips against hers, she lightly dragged her fingers from their place in the grass to her hipbone, and then up to trace teasingly around her peaked breast.

Kyojuro’s eyes followed every move, his thrusts hardening as she pinched her nipple and let out a breathy little scream, her walls pulsing around his aching length.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro grit, feeling himself twitch within her as he watched Y/N play with herself, spurring him to go faster, deeper within her.

He moved his hand under one of her knees and lifted her leg over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper into her silken heat, and he teasingly drew his fingers up and down her outer thigh.

At that moment, as Kyojuro was poised against the silhouette of the moon, his amber eyes glowing as he watched where he appeared and disappeared inside her, the realization hit Y/N like a storm, and it knocked her entirely off her axis.

She was in love with Kyojuro.

Who else could make her feel so sacred and yet so angry? Who else had been capable of slipping past every wall she’d built within herself, capable of getting her to let her guard down before consuming her so furiously she had not realized she’d ever been in danger?

He was fire, she was ice. One of them had to give to the other. She’d just always thought it would be him giving into her.

Yet there, beneath the moonlight, her climax rising above her like a tidal wave, Y/N realized that she was powerless against the waves that rose to pull her under, to never again let her up for air.

Distantly, Y/N felt the Flame Pillar’s callused thumb find her clit and her climax slammed into her, and she succumbed to the endless sea called Kyojuro.

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

As Y/N broke apart around him, Kyojuro swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.

She shattered over him with the prettiest scream he’d ever heard, and he could barely make out the drawn-out syllables of his name as her hips jerked up against his while her inner walls threatened to squeeze the life from him.

Y/N finally collapsed back against the ground, her body limp from the exhaustion of her pleasure. Kyojuro then moved in chase of his own release, his hips pressed solidly against hers as he rutted his cock deep within her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands tightening around Y/N’s waist. The familiar electricity of impending release tingled at the base of Kyojuro’s spine, and his stomach began to clench as he began his ascent to his climax. “Y/N — I am going to finish soon,” his head was thrown back, and his groans were loud enough to alert anyone nearby of exactly what was transpiring between the two Hashira. “Please — tell me where--”

“Inside,” Y/N gasped, her legs tightening around Kyojuro’s hips in a feeble attempt to keep him within her, to ensure that he wouldn’t yet leave her. “Please, Kyojuro, stay.”

Kyojuro was a rational man, and he knew of one major reason not to allow his seed to spill inside Y/N’s heavenly body. But all those rationalities flew out the window at the sound of her wanton and needy whimpers and the way her heat fluttered around him and Kyojuro did not think he could pull out of her if he wanted to.

Kyojuro’s thrusts became more and more frenzied and bruising, with the Flame Hashira hardly dragging his twitching length out of her as he neared his own climax.

“Hold onto me,” he panted, falling forward so that his chest was pressed flush against Y/N’s, one arm going to wrap around her waist while the other snaked over to where her arm lay in the grass, gripping her wrist to pin it up over her head as his fingers interlocked tightly with hers.

Y/N hiked her legs higher up his waist, crossing them at her shins so that he was buried deep within her. Her free arm looped under the one he had braced above her head to wrap around his back, her fingers digging into the rippling muscle and scarred skin that littered his shoulders.

“Make me yours, Kyojuro,” she whispered against his neck, squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Y/N felt his entire body tense at her words and Kyojuro’s moans turned into shouts as he gave one final, deep thrust within her before he exploded. His hand tightened fiercely around hers with the force of his climax,

The pleasure that surged up his spine had been white hot as he pushed himself as deeply as he could possibly go within Y/N’s vice-like core. Kyojuro was not a novice to pleasure, but he had never finished as hard or as much as he did buried within her.

Kyojuro canted his hips, prolonging his release as he continued to empty himself into her, coming down from his earth-shattering high. Y/N mewled against his throat, her lips brushing against his sensitive pulse point as her legs spasmed. once more around his hips.

He finally stilled within her, arms shaking as he braced himself above her, to keep from crushing the exhausted woman beneath him.

He lowered his head down to her level. “Are you all right, my flame?” He panted, pressing a kiss between her brows before he rested his forehead heavily against hers.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and nodded shakily.

He no longer could keep himself from collapsing against Y/N, but as he fell forward, he gripped her and rolled, pulling her to his chest with his leaking cock still nestled deeply between her legs.

“I don’t want to push you away,” Kyojuro murmured softly after a moment, his chest finally easing as his breathing slowed.

Y/N made a show of looking down to where they were still joined, the Flame Pillar’s pearly seed slowly leaking out of her and onto the grass below them. “I think I’m about as close to you as physically possible, Rengoku.”

Kyojuro rolled his eyes and ground his hips slightly into her, causing Y/N to squeak against him.

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to apologize to you.” He trailed his fingers up and down her spine as she nestled back against his chest, chin perched on his pectoral as she waited for him to continue.

“I was just so angry. After the incident on the train, when I woke up in Kocho’s hospital — I was furious. With myself.” Amber eyes met hers and softened to pools of melted honey. “It was never you I was angry with.”

Y/N held his gaze evenly, her voice firm. “But you took it out on me all the same.” It wasn’t an angry accusation — it was the truth; ugly and sharp. But it was real, and so was the tentative, knowing hope in her eyes.

“Yes,” Kyojuro breathed. “Yes, I did. And I am so sorry for it, Y/N.” His hand reached up to gently cup the side of her face, thumb smoothing over the soft expanse of her cheek. “May I ask for your forgiveness?”

Y/N leaned her head into his warm palm, and smiled, softly.

“You may ask, Kyojuro.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

Y/N threw a leg out over his other hip, straddling him beneath her, though moving so fluidly that they remained connected at their base.

She rolled her hips against his, and he felt himself begin to harden within her once more. Kyojuro moaned softly, head falling back against the earth as he brought his hands up to steady her, fingers digging gently into her hips as she repeated the movement, again and again, until he’d fully stiffened within her.

“Yes Kyojuro,” she sighed, hands coming to brace themselves against his abdomen as she began to ride him. “I forgive you.”

Kyojuro groaned, his head thrown back as he began to gently grind up into her, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as she lightly raked her nails over his pectorals and the hard ridges of his abdomen.

He wanted so very badly to lose himself within his pleasure, to allow Y/N to consume him whole and never let him go again, but his atonement was not complete.

Because Y/N had given him every opportunity to confess to her before, and he had been careless with them; she would not open that door herself again.

So he would.

“And may I give you my heart, Y/N?” He asked, his hands gliding sensually up from her hips to brace themselves on either side of her sensitive waist, squeezing her firmly.

Her pace had stuttered slightly once his words registered, eyes widening as she looked down at him, and Kyojuro hated that he was the reason the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes.

“Is it truly mine?” She breathed, resuming the intoxicating rise and fall and push and grind of her hips, breasts beginning to bounce as she picked up her pace.

Kyojuro’s mouth watered, but he restrained himself, holding her gaze. “It was only ever yours, Y/N.”

Y/N cried out then, her hips beginning to drop and roll into his with urgency. By the way her damp heat began to pulse and constrict around him, Kyojuro knew that she was barreling towards her release once more.

One hand left its searing position at her waist to drift down to where they were connected, his rough thumb toying with the sensitive nub that had her heavenly cunt squeezing him for dear life.

“My beautiful flame,” he moaned, “how lucky I am to have such a darling god be the keeper of my heart.”

Kyojuro rolled into her from below again, the hand still braced on her waist guiding himself to push deeper into her, as his thumb began to press harder into the apex of her thighs.

“Sweet tempest, please,” Kyojuro panted, the relentless squeeze of Y/N’s walls around his aching length beginning to drive him to the point of madness. “Please, may I have your love?”

Y/N’s moans were piercing as she half-sobbed above him, head thrown back into the night sky, the hoary glow of the moon making her look like a celestial deity given human form as she writhed above him.

“Yes!” Y/N cried, “Yes Kyojuro, you have always had my love!”

The moment the words fell from her lips, Kyojuro jolted upright, coming into a sitting position as Y/N’s legs instantly wrapped around him. He wound one arm around her waist to bounce her in his lap, the other moving to circle his fingers around her nub.

Kyojuro nuzzled her nose with his own, his lips mere centimeters from hers as he pressed his forehead against her and held her eyes. “Then come for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath tickling her lips as he nuzzled her again. “Come for me, my love.”

Y/N seized around him like a vice, her head falling back as she unleashed a euphoric cry.

The force of her climax had caused her to arch backward in Kyojuro’s lap, thrusting her breasts up and forward, and Kyojuro bent to suck one into his greedy mouth, his own release imminent. The warm sticky rush of her pleasure combined with the way her velvety, molten walls constricted around him had Kyojuro seeing stars as his seed shot into her, hot and fast, his strangled groan muffled only by the soft plush of Y/N’s breast as he filled her to her brim for the second time that night.

For a long moment, neither Pillar said anything as they came down from their mutual highs, Y/N’s head pressed against Kyojuro’s shoulder while the Flame Pillar kept his arms firmly around her waist, his fingers trailing up and down her spine.

“Y/N, are you all right?” He murmured into her ear, still buried deep within her heat.

Y/N nodded sleepily against his skin, savoring how full and complete she felt perched in his lap.

“I love you, Kyojuro.” She said so softly that the Flame Pillar thought his heart might break. Kyojuro pulled away slightly to bring his fingers beneath her chin where she lay against his shoulder. Gently, he tilted her face towards his and captured her lips with his own.

“My darling flame,” He murmured against her lips as they broke apart, his eyes sweeping over her face, committing every detail of her beauty to memory. “Thank you.”

Y/N gave him a lazy smile. “I cannot be your flame, Kyojuro,” she teased, “Not when I am made of ice.”

Kyojuro flipped her back beneath him and danced his lips teasingly across the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you know, my beautiful foil, that ice can burn just as well as flame?” He pressed a feather-light kiss against her lips. “And I have been consumed by your silvery fire since I first laid eyes on you at Final Selection.”

Y/N looked up at him in wonder, her hand coming to rest against his face as she adoringly caressed his cheek.

“I love you, Y/N. I am so sorry it took me until now to say it.”

-------------------------------------------------—

Epilogue

Y/N made back it into her room, sight unseen, just as dawn had crept over the horizon.

Feet bare, she padded softly over to her waiting bed, shrugging out of Kyojuro’s uniform shirt and falling into her blankets, not caring at the growing discomfort she felt as the Flame Pillar’s seed dried in her undershorts.

She just wanted to sleep.

Y/N and Kyojuro had come together twice more before the pair realized that morning was imminent, and they needed to return to their respective dwellings before anyone noticed they were gone.

Y/N had lamented that Kyojuro had shredded her chest bindings beyond salvation and had worried she’d be forced to sneak back into the Butterfly Mansion with nothing but her haori to cover her bare chest when Kyojuro slid his uniform shirt over her shoulders.

“No one will think twice if they see me bare,” he’d said by way of explanation, gaze dropping momentarily to appreciate the marks he had left dotted across her breasts before rising back to her face. “I would like to keep you hidden, however.”

Kyojuro then fastened each button one by one, beginning from the bottom as he kissed his way up Y/N’s torso until his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, which he’d nipped.

It had taken everything in her not to throw him down and have him for the fifth time.

Kyojuro had walked with her as far as the edge of the path back to Shinobu’s before parting her with a sweet kiss and a promise to return to her later in the morning. He had also mentioned, somewhat mischievously, that he would be inquiring into when Y/N could expect to be discharged from the Butterfly Mansion and return to her own Estate.

Her empty, person-free estate.

Y/N collapsed into her bed, ready to sleep for a precious few hours before her training would begin anew.

“So, do you mind sharing where you’ve been all night?” A dangerously sweet voice chirped from over by the door.

Y/N shot up out of her bed, stomach falling out of her ass, as she faced the smiling, enraged Insect Pillar seated primly atop her wooden stool opposite of her.

“I was quite worried, you know,” Shinobu tutted, the honey of her smile poisoned by the violence in her eyes.

Y/N had never been one to be at a loss for words, a quick comment, or a snappy retort always on hand when the situation called for it.

But to her horror, her mind had gone dreadfully blank, and her tongue was swollen stupid in her mouth.

Shinobu smiled like she knew, eyes slowly looking her over, and Y/N was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her friend could see every way she’d allowed Kyojuro to utterly defile her.

“Will you be in need of a contraceptive?” Shinobu asked lightly, and Y/N felt like she would drop dead right then and there.

“…Yes, please.” She managed to squeak, and the Insect Pillar turned to leave.

“I will bring it with your breakfast.” Her hand closed around the doorknob but stilled.

“And Y/N?”

The Ice Pillar whimpered as her friend turned to look back at her, all smiles and throbbing forehead veins.

“If you ever keep the younger girls awake from the sounds of your activities with the Flame Pillar again, I will poison you both.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

2K notes · View notes

diejager · 1 month

Note

Hi! I'm not sure if you're still doing/taking requests for the monster!141 au anymore so feel free to just ignore this if you aren't! 😊

But if u are can I request a drabble/headcanon about venom!hunter? I'm curious about the dynamic between them (venom & hunter) and how they got along and worked together (i don't really know how to phrase it🥲) when they first met.

Also how did they first met? How does venom get along with 141? I'm not sure if u already wrote about it.

Venom!reader headcanon

Cw: blood, gore, cannibalism?, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 898

Your meeting with Venom was an accident, a coincidence culminated from horrible events, you weren’t supposed to separate from your squad and he wasn’t supposed to die in the body of an incompatible vessel. It was a moment of shame and disgrace, making the simplest mistake one could do in your positions, but everything had a reason, no? Because you found Venom and he found you, he was your way back and you were his compatible vessel.

It was… difficult at first, sharing one mind and body with someone else took some time. A lot of time. It was a struggle of push and pull, your calm waters and his violent storm. While you preferred to stray from trouble, Venom loved it, actively seeking it out whenever he had control of your body. There was a lot of fighting, internal struggles and bickering back and forth, but you eventually came to an understanding —common ground.

If he let you live your life - a dangerous one filled with blood and violence, still a young private in the army without any achievements and with big dreams - have monopoly over your body whenever you were off the field, you’d relinquish your key on his cage whenever he was hungry while you were fighting, letting his loose to run his rampage and fill his stomach with the heads of enemies.

It was a relationship built on mutual respect, you for his determination and him for you strength. You understood one another, so your occasional disagreement grew rarer and rarer. You didn’t fight about feeding him only chocolate because you couldn’t stomach the sight of bitten heads. You didn’t fight about wanting excitement when times were too quiet. You didn’t fight when you wanted a few moments of silence in your mind. And you didn’t fight whenever you felt him poke his head out of your sleeve.

This symbiotic relationship only meant that you;d grow closer to each other, he got to know you on a fundamental level and you got to discover more and more about his past and dreams —he had a few wild ones, but all attainable. You shared your fears, your secrets and your pains, you laughed when he stammered after your promise to protect him, his blubbering words and growls sent your way when he said that he would be the one to do the protecting. His reasoning being that he was bigger, stronger and more dangerous than you and your little explosive weapons.

It was from then on that he called you Little One, a slip of his tongue while you laughed and kicked your legs at his flustered face, his head reaching from your shoulder to glare at you. He acted like a love sick puppy afterwards, often calling out to you when he was bored, nudging your arm while you worked, wanting pets and kisses, or would shower you with loud and boisterous affection. Though he always proclaimed it to be him providing for you, it wasn’t affection - no - it was him watching over you like a guardian —or so he mumbled.

He would step in if he deemed a situation too dangerous for your fragile, fleshy body. He’d warn you, let you know where and who was coming for you, be it a sniper from a mile away or a group of armed soldiers sneaking around you. If you couldn’t deal with it in time, Venom would forcefully push his way out of you, covering you in a protective layer of his body, the mass of muscle and sinewy cords building a protective shell. And fortunately, it’s only happened when you were hidden away, the knowledge of Venom’s existence would bring unwanted attention to both you and him, none of which were good.

You met Venom before your study and test for the rank of combat medic, getting his support and mind to help you through it all, his photogenic memory, his talented hands and strength. It was only after earning you new rank, did Laswell contact you for the position on the Task Force 141 since your record held no sign of hateful acts towards monsters and hybrids, and your high success score.

You both vowed to keep Venom a secret from anyone, he was off the record in every sense, unknown and a mystery, a variant that you were adamant to keep a secret. Venom didn’t… hate the men, he might’ve had a small dislike for their attraction and affection towards you, he was a possessive and protective symbiote, but seeing how you were a permanent fixture in the TF, he was forced to tolerate them. He would let you know what he heard and sensed from them, small secrets he caught or fun, little pranks that he wanted to do, and occasionally protect them. Only because you cared for them, he’d hate to see you sad and worried, Venom preferred seeing you smile and laugh.

And following these events, Venom could openly interact with the hybrids, unafraid since it wasn’t a secret anymore. He was a bit reluctant, but slipped from your collar whenever someone mentioned something he liked: chocolate, human meat, you or violence, grinning maniacally and flashing his big, white teeth. Despite his apprehension, Venom was a menace, to them as much as he was with you, and yet you still loved him so much.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-nooraa @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

377 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 5 months

Text

love shot

summary. seungcheol loves playing cupid for you and jihoon because of you two dislike each other

warnings. good ol' e2l but also a mafia-ish setting so the usual: guns, gunshots, blood, cursing, telling people to die. also suggestive at some points !

word count. 7k-ish

author's note. idk whats this but enjoy!!! big shoutout to my beloved @wheeboo for proofreading and correcting my silly mistakes!!! ilysm mwah thank u from the bottom of my heart <333 ++ thank u @weird-bookworm for inspiring me like i wrote 5k of this in one sitting bc of u 🫵

the air in the room was heavy, everyone waiting in anticipation. there was some chatter, only from the most talkative members of the group, yet it was very quiet. the others like you, jihoon, or wonwoo sat in silence staring at the wooden table.

suddenly the door opened and seungcheol came in, dressed in a black coat and his luxurious watch.

this immediately stopped all noise and caused all eyes to look at him.

“our plug just gave us the information that the group is meeting up at an abandoned factory. we’re still waiting for the precise location but i want you all to be ready” he announced, voice stern. the leader of the group scanned all the faces “we suspect it’s the old factory that used to produce cigarettes. since it’s quite big, we’ll need to divide into groups. i’ll also call for backup if my suspicions turn out to be true”

you nodded, eyes scanning a board behind seungcheol’s back. it had all the evidence and necessary photos but by now – because all of the six months you’ve been trying to catch this criminal group – you knew all their faces by heart.

you were a crime fighting organization, one would call it the fbi. but you weren’t really… a government official. you often switched groups, just depending on who’s running low on staff.

some groups, like the one you’ve been working with, had their permanent squad. only because their leader seungcheol (nickname s.coups) had been injured, you were called in to replace him. maybe not in leader duties but your combat abilities were very similar to his… which gained respect amongst the organization.

you liked working with seventeen – that was their group name. they were all unique and special in different ways but also talented, skilled, and laser focused on their task.

you even got to meet them outside the work field, like going biking with soonyoung and seokmin in your free time. or taking a culinary class with mingyu and hansol. and many many others. you really liked them and contrary to other groups you’ve worked with, you were sure you’ll keep in touch with them after the work is done.

they all liked you too. except jihoon… you weren’t sure why but that was okay. he pissed you off too, like always using your mug even though you clearly stated it’s yours, constant snarky comments aimed at you (and your ironic ones fired back at him). you both just didn’t click… you tried to avoid each other, knowing that even a mere meeting on a hallway will cause a quarrel.

which is why you’re all tensed up, legs and hands crossed together, because jihoon was late. he had to sit on the spot next to you and of course he’s manspreading, fakely oblivious to the fact that he’s almost shoving his knee into yours.

the door opened and an intern, taehyun, barged into the room.

“u-oh. hello, everyone. our suspicions got confirmed, it’s the old cigarette factory. they should be there in an hour but we don’t know how many people will be there” he said, eyes focused on s.coups. the man nodded gently.

“thank you, taehyun. so we’ll bring back up, just in case. we don’t know if they’re armed, do we?” the leader asked the boy. taehyun hesitated.

“there’s no official information…” his voice trailed off.

“but?” seungcheol rose his eyebrows, crossing his arms.

“if you mind my honest opinion, i think they’ll be armed. they always carry at least a gun” taehyun said, face serious. seungcheol sent him a warm smile.

“good point. thank you, taehyun. go now and tell the staff to prepare our vehicles”

the intern nodded and left. if you weren’t used to sore muscles because of all the hours of training, your legs would start to cramp because of how squished your legs were in order to avoid touching jihoon.

“good. then, soonyoung you’re going as usual: jun, minghao and chan. wonwoo, mingyu and vernon go together. rest of the team as usual so seokmin, seungkwan, jeonghan and joshua” seungcheol nodded and you swore you saw a ghost of a smile dance on his lips.

“and me?” jihoon asked, leaning forward.

“you’re going with y/n. you’ll work as a pair to sneak from behind” the leader announced and before you could let out a yelp of surprise, he was already going towards the door. “let’s go”

the sun has already settled before you arrived to the location. the ride there was silent, everyone rather serious about the moment: will you manage to capture the drug boss? he always keeps running away, as sand slips through fingers. it was starting to get on your nerves and you were determined to put a stop to it.

arriving to your base, you noticed some extra cars. the backup arrived.

in your all black uniforms, heavy boots and hidden knives behind your belt (and extra one in your left shoe), your team was ready. well, jihoon.

“you’ll go first. entering from the back. we studied the building before so you should be able to know where to go more or less. as soon as you locate them, let us know” seungcheol said and put his hands on your and jihoon’s arm “and no fighting or i’ll fucking kill you”

“yes, dad” you snickered and patted his hand.

“and don’t die, alright?” seungcheol rose his eyebrows.

“as if i would let that happen” jihoon snarled and shrugged off cheol’s hand, leaving. the leader nodded and you followed your partner, hand resting on your gun.

you were lead to the building by the instructions in your in-ear. managing to slip in quietly, you were following jihoon.

the building was consumed by darkness, nothing but silence. going through the corridors, you checked in all the rooms.

finally getting to the main room with all the machinery, jihoon stopped in his tracks. he looked back at you, his dark eyes shining with pure focus.

“do you hear it?” woozi asked, voice below a whisper. you frowned and suddenly heard it:

distant chatter, footsteps, and a shuffle of something moving around. your eyes locked with his (and you became hyper aware that he had his gaze on you all the time), and you gave a small nod.

“i’ll try to locate them more or less. you go check the rest of the rooms… and let’s call backup” he ordered. his gaze lingered on you for a bit longer before he went into the darkness of the factory.

you did as he said, your hand ready to pull out your gun any second.

room by room – nothing. you knew the rest of the team already came inside since you could hear noises of combat. some shouts, things getting thrown. no gunshots… maybe they weren’t armed after all?

for a while your heart skipped a beat. are they all okay? even… jihoon?

you shook your head and while checking in another room, you didn’t notice anything strange. as you began to grow annoyed that all the action is taking place and you’re here, alone and without anything… you heard footsteps, rushed footsteps, as if someone was running away.

you returned to the door, peeking out since the sound came from the corridor.

“fucking beomgyu… i’ll kill him. i knew there was something wrong with that boy”

your eyes went wide, hearing the voice. it was the boss. you knew the voice (and him) too well.

“do we need to do it?” you grunted, arms crossed. a thundering gaze that was supposed to scare seungcheol was rather amusing for him.

“yes. you’re the only woman in our group” he said, shaking his head.

“well, so what? he can go with his friends? with homies for a drink!” you grunted and paced around the room “i respect you as a leader, cheol. i really do. but you know how much i just don’t get along with jihoon…”

“hm, do you? i already see that you started calling him by his name, not his code name” seungcheol wiggled his brows and you came up to him, punching his arm. chuckles left the buffed man’s body and you realised he doesn’t care, at all.

“fuck you” you grunted, grabbing your bag “you owe me a drink after this”

seungcheol’s laugh was the only thing that you heard even after leaving the room.

arriving at the restaurant, you sighed. joining the seventeen group you wouldn’t even think that you’d be send to a “date” with your enemy to spy on your actual enemy. and yet, here you are.

the chatter of people and clinking of glasses hit your ears, the inside of the building taking your breath away. it was so royal and rich, you felt small. well, no wonder that a mafia boss would dine here. and only here.

“hello, ma’am. may i ask who are you here with?” a waiter asked, smiling politely.

“oh. the reservation is set for kwak jiho” you answered swiftly. the fake name was so ridiculous “is he here?”

“ah, yes. mr. kwak arrived shortly before you. let me lead the way” the waiter nodded and you followed them.

there were so many stunning people. some of the faces you knew - due to their criminal record or just because they were celebrities. you made sure to check where your main concern was sitting. park chinhae was sitting there, in all his glory, sipping a drink.

your eyes widened when you realised you’re sitting at the table right next to him. the waiter bowed gently and left, leaving you with jihoon.

he stood up and walked up to you, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss atop of it. the action made you freeze, but nonetheless, you kept your façade as best as you could.

“you… you look stunning, my dear” he breathed out, eyes scanning over your figure.

well, you figured that it’s a lifetime opportunity: having seungcheol’s black card to spend on the attire. so you went crazy, as anyone would.

a little birdie (minghao) told you that red (especially the ruby shade) is one of jihoon’s favourite colours. so you picked a red dress, nothing too revealing yet having a nice cut to show your left leg. paired with a ruby lipstick and some pretty, sparkly jewellery off you went. you even decided to go to a professional hairdresser because who’s stopping you...?

and apparently, it worked. or maybe jihoon was so used to seeing you in sweatpants and hoodies that this elegant side of you unexpectedly swept him off his feet.

“thank you, baby. you don’t look bad yourself” you hummed and watched him put the chair away for you. jihoon was wearing an all black tuxedo and an expensive tie. his hair slicked back… he was quite handsome looking this way. not like you cared, of course.

once you were in your seat and jihoon returned to his, you crossed your legs. your heel brushed against his leg and he raised his eyebrow.

“i ordered some wine already, dear” he hummed and when you shifted your gaze to park chinhae, he just nodded. he knew.

the nickname caused a swirl of butterflies to storm your stomach and for the nth time this day, you cursed seungcheol in your mind.

you grabbed the menu that you already studied beforehand – the name of the dishes were code names for different question or orders.

“which wine did you choose?” you asked, tapping the table.

“château haut-brion” jihoon answered, eyes never leaving yours. nothing yet.

“i see” you nodded. suddenly your mind goes blank – what are you supposed to talk about with jihoon? the two of you never met outside work. duh, you barely even talked normally at work…

“what about the food? fancy anything?” he asked, shifting in his seat. you two had secret cameras and microphones that could catch the conversation happening next to you, so technically you wouldn’t have to do anything. however, you were curious if you’ll hear anything useful.

“i… i don’t know” you scoffed and put the menu down, biting your lip in wonder “i think i’ll wait for the waiter to recommend something”

jihoon was about to answer you when suddenly you heard a male voice.

“if i may interrupt…”

you looked up and noticed park chinhae looking at you with a smirk dancing on his lips. he was sitting relaxed in his seat, almost as if he owned the place.

“i couldn’t help but pay attention to such a beautiful lady and if you’re having a dilemma what to choose… i truly recommend lemony mussels with cherry tomatoes and potatoes” the man said, giving jihoon a look that you couldn’t crack. was it some sort of trying to assert dominance? or genuine help?

“ah… thank you mr…” you rose your eyebrow, waiting for his name.

“mr. park chinhae. but such a pretty lady can call me just chinhae” he smiled. you saw jihoon’s jaw clench. you leaned forward charmingly and tapped your red nails against the table.

“well, thank you chinhae. but i’m not a connoisseur of seafood, sadly. i appreciate your help though” you nodded with a playful smile.

“ah, no worries! then, let me take a guess: pork or beef?” he asked, full on ignoring jihoon. you couldn’t lie – the situation amused you.

“lamb” was your reply, eyes focused on the drug boss. he looked at the man he was with and clicked his tongue.

“a woman of a taste, i see. good. such lady is a true gem” only now park chinhae’s landed at jihoon. almost threateningly “then my choice would be rosé-marinated grilled lamb leg with walnut salsa fresca”

you gasped, dramatically covering your mouth with your hand.

“chinhae, you must be a regular here. that’s what i’ll settle for, then. thank you so much, i bet it’ll be delicious” you hummed. the man only winked in response and returned to his friend.

silence fell between you and jihoon, his gaze on fire. was he… pissed?

“what? there’s too many things to choose from” you chuckled and nudged his leg. almost as if to say ‘behave’.

“i’ll be sure to later remind you the dish name at my place” he snarled, his mask slipping off for a second. you let out a scoff, noticing the waiter.

“we’ll see if i even end up there” you teased and relaxed in your seat as the waiter came with wines.

“may i take your order?” they asked.

as you ordered the dish chinhae recommended to you, jihoon ordered sweet and spicy pork chops. a code name for ‘be careful’. you just rolled your eyes at him and once the waiter was gone, you saw a sudden glint in his ebony irises.

“so, aeri… what were you up to this weekend?” he asked, the fake name sounding strange in his lips.

“i went on a trip to yongin with my friends. we had a lovely time there” you hummed. with a corner of your eye, you noticed chinhae smile. well, it was his hometown after all.

“oh, really? what did you do there?” jihoon asked and suddenly placed his hand down, close to yours. looking him in the eyes, the air in the room began to grow heavy.

“we’re a little too old for amusement parks” you giggled and decided to start drawing shapes on his hand with the tip of your finger “so we settled to go see a traditional folk village and art museums, then we went to a bar or two at the end of the day”

jihoon was focused on you, as if the mafia boss next to you didn’t exist. the whole room felt empty, only you and jihoon on the room.

“and you? didn’t you miss me too much?” you teased and noticed the boss picked up his phone.

“i think about you every minute of the day, so obviously i missed you” he said ironically, drawing an eye roll from you “i just stayed at home and binge watched the series you recommended me”

“really? alice in borderland?” you asked, stunned. you didn’t recommend it to jihoon, to be precise, but to be fair you were talking about it a lot lately.

jihoon shrugged and from the side, you overheard a piece of rumble from chinhae.

“–all of it? you better, you smart beast. good job, i’ll see you at the usual, next week–”

“yeah, really. it wasn’t that bad” he shrugged.

shortly after your food arrived and while you chatted (and to your amusement, flirted a lot), jihoon occasionally grabbed your hand. you, trying to show him that two can play that game, from time to time rested your high heel against his leg and moved it slowly. you enjoyed the flushed look on his face, whether it was your antics or the wine.

you managed to catch some words like ‘magazine’, ‘6pm’, ‘make more income’ or some useful – new or old – names being dropped.

you came to a conclusion you wouldn’t get more information. he was in a public space after all.

“shall we have some dessert?” you asked “i’m craving tiramisu”

jihoon rose his eyebrows. tiramisu was a code for ‘let’s end this’.

“why? i mean– are you–?” his eyes widened. you rested your chin on your hands.

“i’m fine, i’m just in the mood for something sweet” you shrugged and jihoon couldn’t crack what you meant. then he just smiled playfully.

“hm, okay. i was hoping we could get some dessert afterwards” he hummed “but tiramisu sounds fine”

you scoffed and grabbed your purse.

“great. i’ll be right back, you can order in the meantime” you said and stood up, noticing park chinhae looking at you. he was talking but you sent him a gentle smile and went to the bathroom.

you took your sweet time, fixing your lipstick and hair. also checking the hidden camera and microphone (which, to be frank, you completely forgot about), you took a deep breath.

then the realization hit you. the whole team was listening to your and jihoon’s flirting.

smacking your forehead, you let out a loud groan. seungcheol will so need to buy you a drink. a couple, even.

reapplying some perfume, you zipped your bag and left the bathroom. only to see park chinhae in the hallway, leaning against the wall and being in the phone. he didn’t see you, back facing you.

“i need all the cargo by friday. ship it to the factory this time because i think someone is sniffing around us” he said, voice low but enough for you to hear “and check that intern. beomhan– ah, beomgyu”

you saw him move and before he fully turned around, you acted like you just left the bathroom.

closing the door and turning around, your heart sped up.

“i’m hanging up” was all you heard before there was a sound of approaching footsteps “hey there”

you turned around and faked a shocked face.

“oh, hello mr. lamb leg. it was delightful, thank you” the corner of your lips turned upwards. you noticed his phone in his hand was unlocked, showing the caller id number. you had to act quickly if you wanted the camera to capture it. and you had to shift your position.

“no problem, it was my pleasure to help such a beautiful woman. may i know your name, though?” he asked, eyebrows rising up. you playfully threw your hair back and crossed your arms, shifting your body weight to your left leg. you noticed the way his gaze lingered on it because the cut in the fabric revealed it.

“it’s aeri” you said and cursed mentally. it’s probably not enough “if you hit me with ‘a pretty name for a pretty woman’ i’ll have to give you a disappointing look”

he laughed and you suddenly leaned closer, fixing his bowtie. it was risky, you could see how he tensed up to your touch. but because of that, you were sure that the hidden camera captured his phone screen before it turned off.

“it was crooked. sorry, i’m a bit of a perfectionist” you apologized and leaned back.

“who would i be to despise a woman’s hands on me?” he flashed you a toothy grin. gross. “is your date boring? you can always leave with me”

your heart skipped a beat. you could. that way you could get more information… or what if he lead you to his place? no, probably not. but still…

“ah, i can see you thinking about it” chinhae hummed. if there was an in-ear in your ear, you’d probably hear seungcheol saying to not even think about it.

you were about to say something– anything.

“y/– aeri!”

you turned around and saw jihoon. fuck.

chinhae put a hand on your shoulder and it took you everything in your willpower not to shrug it off.

“here you are. i began to get worried” jihoon snarled, shooting daggers at the man touching you.

“anyways. my offer still stands, if you want to have some actual fun” chinhae whispered in your ear and began to walk away. jihoon walked up to you, wanting to say something but suddenly turned around.

“she’ll have some fun, don’t worry about it” he said. chinhae turned his head and scanned jihoon head to toe.

“with a man your size?”

you had to tug his sleeve. chinhae winked at you and left, leaving only you and jihoon in the hallway.

“calm down, lee” you grunted and when he looked at you, you just sent him a amused expression “i bet aeri would have some nice time with jiho. but there’s nothing left to do, we should go”

“agreed. i already paid, let’s just go” he grunted and gestured you to go first “i’ll drop you off and don’t even argue. that weirdo could follow you”

how ironic. while undercover at the restaurant, he was walking away from you. and now, he did the same yet now you were the one playing with him.

stepping out to the corridor, you debated your options: you could shoot him. you could harm him and capture. or just capture.

suddenly he took a sharp turn to the stairs that lead to the other floor. you managed to hide in one of the janitor rooms. only when the sound of his footsteps became quiet, you followed him as quietly as you could.

the open space allowed you to see the lights of flashlights far away. you noticed a glimpse of him going into one of the offices. why isn’t he running away…?

quietly placing your steps you approached the room. taking a peek inside, you saw that chinhae is rummaging through drawers.

“where the fuck is it…” he grunted, throwing papers on the ground.

“we’re done here. there’s everyone except park chinhae but he wasn’t even meant to be here, apparently. let’s leave. does everyone copy?”

you couldn’t answer – the man would hear you if you did, and your cover would be blown.

taking a deep breath, you checked if you had handcuffs with you. luckily, you did. swallowing with a beating heart, you walked in.

“hands up, chinhae”

the man turned around and frowned. the room was dark, only streams of moonlight sneaking through the blinds. you kicked the door close, gun pointed at him.

“whatever you’re looking for, it won’t save you” you said harshly.

“a woman threatening me with a gun. never would i have imagined i’d find myself in such a position” he laughed and started slowly approaching you. one thing was clear: you can’t kill him. or seriously injure him.

before you could act, he jumped towards you. and it hits you like a hard slap to the face – you didn’t unlock your weapon.

ducking his attack, you kicked him in the stomach. the man lost his balance and hit the desk with a thud. grabbing the first thing that was in his reach, he hurled a lamp at you. it hit your arm, making your weapon fall out of your hands.

before he could jump and grab it, you kicked it away. landing on the floor, he hastily pulled at your leg causing you to fall next to him. the man didn’t waste any time and grabbed you by your shoulders, climbing atop of your body. one hand cupped at your jaw. as he hovered above you, he tongued his cheek.

“you” chinhae grunted, scanning your face. the moonlight shined perfectly on your face, and you could see the puzzle pieces connecting in his head. in the meantime you tried to sneakily reach for your dagger tucked behind your belt.

he ripped your in-ear and sent it crashing against the wall.

“ah, i should’ve been more careful” he hissed and his hands moved down to your neck. his body weight was crushing you, your sweaty fingers mere millimetres from getting ahold of your blade “such a beautiful woman… what a shame i’ll have to kill you”

“i’d like to see you try” you snarled just when his hands tightened around your throat. the lack of oxygen hit your head, he wasn’t sparing any time. as his hold became tighter and tighter, you struggled to take out your dagger.

mere moments from all the air being cut off, you finally grabbed your knife and stabbed him in the arm, drawing a loud yelp from him. using the sudden shock you managed to roll him over and take a deep breath, followed by painful, hacking coughs. leaning on your hands, you tried to blink away your spinning vision. a sudden kick landed at your arm caused you to fall on the floor again.

“you’re alone, huh? where’s your date?” he growled ironically.

you stood up and noticed your gun. you reached for it, swiftly unlocking it. loud steps of his heavy boots echoed through the room.

“i told you to leave with me. you’d have way more fun, and wouldn’t end up this way” his voice was way too close for your liking.

you pointed the gun at him, standing up. before you could realize, the moonlight shone on his figure.

seungcheol stopped in his tracks, counting all his crew for the nth time. jihoon was talking to joshua, vernon and seokmin; wonwoo and mingyu were on the phone with someone from the company; minghao, jun and chan were comforting beomgyu; soonyoung, jeonghan and seungkwan were counting the captured men.

“what is it?” joshua asked, drawing everyone’s attention to seungcheol. even the backup people were starting to get worried.

“it was… too smooth. no guns, their boss not in sight… and i have a feeling that…” his voice trailed off and he suddenly noticed jihoon getting pale.

“did anyone see y/n?”

the silence that fell amongst them spoke volumes, the feeling of anxiety hitting them all.

“fuck, i knew it.. i’m still getting used to the fact there’s 13 of you now. y/n, do you copy?” seungcheol asked through the in-ear.

he was answered with only silence. but then unexpectedly, there was a gunshot.

the horrifying sound of it ripped through the empty space, causing everyone in the room to stiffen up.

“y/n, say something” jihoon ordered, tapping his in-ear piece as if that was supposed to help.

“the IT guys are saying that they don’t see her in the voice channel” wonwoo spoke up “but she’s in the building. the northern side, where you guys entered”

“jihoon, wait!” seungcheol yelled after woozi ran in said direction.

“always getting in fucking trouble…” he snarled to himself, trying to ignore the heavy feeling blooming in his heart. it wasn’t a gunshot aimed at you, obviously. how could it be? they captured everyone.

he checked all the rooms on the floor and with each passing second, when there was no sigh of you, his chest swelled with fear. hypothetically speaking if you were hurt, he was running out of time.

a sudden, dull noise of something – or rather someone – falling on the floor reached his ears. it came from… upstairs?

he noticed the stairs. fuck.

“she’s on the second floor” he said to the in-ear, almost flying through the stairs. kicking every door open, he finally found you.

you were putting handcuffs on an unconscious park chinhae, a growing pool of ruby blood between your bodies.

“thank goodness… is he alive?” jihoon asked, dropping to his knees.

“you’re worried about him?” you joked, relieved to see that jihoon is fine.

“why would i care about you?” he grunted. oh, so you’re back to normal. good to know.

he checked his pulse and noticed the knife in his arm. you just shook your head and saw dark spots in front of your eyes.

leaning your head exhaustively against the desk, your face twisted in pain.

jihoon should’ve seen that first. but the thing that caught his attention were two guns on the floor.

which meant the unconscious man had a weapon too.

“don’t even tell me it was him” jihoon said, a hint of worry in his voice. you shook your head and he just sighed, walking up to you.

he kneeled in front of you, gently grabbing you by your chin and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“please tell me it was you who fired” he repeated, voice stern and cold. emotionless on the surface but you felt the bitterness of it.

“i’m fine” you huffed, scrunching your face.

the silence spoke volumes and jihoon wasted no time helping you stand up. eyes focused on you, he tried to look for any wounds.

“you still haven’t answered my question. can you stop being annoying for once and tell me who was it?” his voice rose up a bit and you sensed genuine concern. your heart ached upon that but the pain was stronger.

“i’m sorry. it was too late when i noticed” you whispered and felt your knees go weak. thanks to jihoon’s quick reflexes, he caught you, arms wrapping around your body. and that’s when he felt it.

he couldn’t see the blood due to the black clothes and darkness in the room. but he certainly felt it on his hands, and his throat went dry.

“i’ll fucking kill you if you die on me right now” jihoon’s voice broke.

people barged into the room, immediately taking care of the mafia boss.

you just shook your head and jihoon felt more and more warm blood spilling on his hands.

“you’re such an dumb idiot, getting yourself shot” he rambled at this point. the next events slurred into one vague memory. him grabbing you in bridal style, seungcheol shaking your arms, a car ride to the base with jihoon’s fingers interlocked with yours. his voice repeatedly saying ‘don’t die’ and you, struggling to respond with an ironic moment and only managing to mumble a “try me’’ before passing out on his lap.

you slowly opened your eyes, the blinding brightness of the room causing you to close them again. trying again, you looked around the room. hospital room…?

once the events started slowly coming back to you, you noticed a fluffy ball next to your knees. then you realised it’s a fluffy ball of messy hair. jihoon’s messy hair. jihoon, who was sleeping next to you on a plastic chair.

you frowned and tried to look for the wound. with one hand examining your body, because the other… the other was held by the man next to you.

when your shaky fingers stumbled upon the bandage, you saw jihoon slowly rose his head up.

he looked at you, dark circles under his ebony eyes. then they widened in shock upon noticing that–

“you’re awake!” he gasped, back straightening. you could only nod weakly “do you need anything? water? does it hurt? should i call the doctor? are you…”

“water will be fine” you hummed in slight amusement, enjoying this caring side of jihoon. only when he stood up to get some, he realized he was still holding your hand. turning his back to you, so you couldn’t see his reddening face, he started looking for some water.

“what… what happened to park chinhae? you captured him, right? did he say anything?” you asked, fixing your posture. hissing when a sudden wave of pain ripped through your body, jihoon turned around immediately “also… how long i’ve been…”

“two weeks” jihoon replied quietly, placing a bottle of water on the nightstand. you went to open it but struggled, hating the way you were so helpless “you lost a lot of blood, the bullet stayed in your body. we got the best medic but you scared us all to death” he mumbled, grabbing the water bottle and opening it for you. when he handed it back, his caring gaze lingered on you.

“oh i bet” you mumbled before taking a sip.

“that’s what you do the best, apparently” jihoon bit back, opening the blinds in the room.

“i barely woke up and here you go again… will you tell me what happened to park chinhae?” you asked, looking at him.

“you captured him and knocked unconscious so we could transport him. then we had an interrogation, he–” jihoon let out an annoyed sigh, returning back to the chair next to you. he looked tired “he didn’t say shit. in fact, all he was saying was shit about you”

“oh?” you frowned. you were used to this, sadly, since it happened frequently but the way he said that was… hinting that he didn’t leave this in peace.

“yeah. so me and cheol taught him a little lesson about respect for women and then he started talking” he said with a playful smirk.

“jihoon, am i hearing that right? you stood up for me?” you teased, putting the water bottle away. he rolled his eyes.

“whatever. he said the name of his main dealer so we handed him to the police. after wiping out his money, of course” he smiled and his mouth hung open for a while, as if he was thinking about adding something.

but just when he seemed to make his mind and speak out, the door bursted open.

“Y/N L/N YOU IDIOT! YOU’RE AWAKE?” seungcheol yelled out, but you just shrugged.

just when he was about to rush and hug you, you shook your head.

“it still hurts, cheol” you mumbled. he sent you a reassuring yet worried smile, then his eyes shifted to jihoon.

“you’re still here?” he asked teasingly, crossing his arms. you rose your eyebrows “y’know, y/n, he wouldn’t leave your side when you were unconscious”

“can you not?” jihoon grunted, face stone-cold.

“you felt guilty, huh? i remember you saying ‘as if i would let us die’ but there you were, as pale as a ghost when y/n passed out on you” seungcheol snickered and stopped once he saw a dangerous glint in woozi’s eyes “jihoon, could you actually leave for a second? i need to discuss a private matter with y/n”

“whatever” the man sighed and before he left, his gaze lingered on you for a while longer. with a soft click of door closing, seungcheol sat down next to you.

“what is it?” you asked, scared.

“nothing, actually. i just wanted to ask if there’s something between you and jihoon?” he rose his eyebrows. you shook your head, frowning.

“absolutely not” you grunted, looking away. okay, he was good-looking and funny but… not annoying most of the time.

“ah, really? because he wouldn’t leave your side while you were unconscious. he made sure the nurses that took care of you and changed your clothes were female and… beat up park chinhae pretty badly when we interviewed him. and also he wouldn’t say it but i could see it on his face that he felt guilty that it happened” seungcheol crossed his arms “what i’m trying to say is… consider his weird behaviour”

you stared at the leader with a mixture of confusion and awe.

“are you trying to say that… he likes me…?” you mumbled. cheol just shrugged.

“dunno. he acts differently around you. i’ve known him for a while and i just know that something is going on. but he’d rather get shot than admit it” seungcheol scoffed and gestured at you “no pun intended”

you reached for the water bottle and sighed, mind racing. that was a lot to process.

“i’ll go and tell others that you woke up, m’kay? and i’ll also call in the doctor” the leader stood up and smiled, ruffling your hair.

leaving you and your thoughts alone, you stared at the hoodie that someone left on the chair.

jihoon paced in front of the door, his thoughts spinning around him. you were supposed to leave today since the goal was accomplished. everyone bid you goodbye, and even threw a small party. it’s not like you’re leaving forever – you’ll stay in touch with them or join them again. but physically, you won’t be here anymore.

he took a deep breath and knocked at your door. whatever. it’ll be fine.

“yes, come in” your voice chirped welcomingly. he smiled and pushed the door open.

he saw you packing your bags with… his hoodie on.

“oh”

jihoon frowned.

“what do you mean ‘oh’?” he grunted, crossing his arms. you just let out a chuckle and shook your head.

“you’re the last person i would’ve expected to come here” a hum left your mouth as you turned your back to him and grabbed a pair of socks “what is it? one last ironic comment before i go?”

you were met with silence, causing you to turn around and look at him. jihoon looked serious, ebony irises focused on you.

he was practising this. he memorised everything what he wanted to say, even the tone of his voice. but seeing you now caused everything to fly out of his head, lips moving on his own. and before he realized – it was too late.

“i like you”

the socks dropped out of your hands. you blinked slowly, mouth closing and opening like a fish that’s been out of water for too long.

“w- what?” you scoffed and shook your head, trying to bend down to grab the socks. yet, the state of your wound didn’t allow you to do it normally. letting out a hiss, jihoon rushed to help and grabbed it for you. placing the socks in your bag, you were able to see his face up close. to your amusement, you noticed his ears turning red.

“i guess seungcheol told you his assumptions. i like you, okay? the stupid gun thing made me realize that” he huffed, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“what do you mean?” you asked, playing with him. it’s a rare occurrence that jihoon gets so open and talkative, you might as well use it.

“it’s just… i felt guilty. you were dying on me and it suddenly hit me that life would be horrific without annoying you. and you, yourself. i’d miss you… and stuff. so i guess i like you. i’m not telling you because you’re leaving now but i… i just felt like it” he admitted bashfully, stumbling over his words, all while avoiding your eyes.

“jihoon” you couldn’t help your smile grow.

“and it’s my hoodie by the way” he pointed at the clothing, trying not to think how perfectly the hoodie fits you.

“jih– huh, really?” a gasp left your lips. you were sure it was seungcheol’s or… ah. jihoon probably left it when he was looking over you.

“you can keep it” he said softly and finally, your eyes met. for the first time, you saw that he’s anxious “i’ll get going. don’t die on your way back. bye”

“jihoon, wait–” you laughed and grabbed his wrist. he turned around and his stomach was stormed by butterflies when he felt your gentle hold. “it’s true, seungcheol made me realize this and that”

“that asshole” jihoon muttered, peering at you. you were… smiling.

“so i’ve been thinking about it. i told myself: i’ll be here for two more weeks. if until my leave jihoon won’t say or do anything, i’ll leave like nothing happened. if he does – i’ll tell him the truth” you said slowly, seeing how the gears visibly turned in his head. cute–

“what?” he asked, now being the one stunned.

“you like me. i… think i like you too. apart from being an asshole, you’re pretty sufferable” you grinned and poked his chest.

“what?” he frowned, his face contorting like you just spoke to him in a completely different language.

“don’t make me repeat it” you breathed out, the sudden realization that you said it hitting you.

“does… what…” his eyes suddenly fell on your lips “can i…”

“yes, you can kiss me” you whispered, finishing the sentence for him.

jihoon stepped closer, his hand leaving yours only to be placed on your jaw. the hold was gentle, almost as if he was afraid that he’ll break you.

then, his plush lips landed on yours. the kiss made your head spin – it was so unlike him but then again, so jihoon-y. nothing but tender and respectful, a taste of the chocolate cake that was served during the party lingering on his lips.

before you could deepen the kiss, he leaned away.

“i’m 100% serious about it. i know i’ve been acting like a dick but i couldn’t help it. it’s hard to act normal around such a pretty person” he snickered, thumbs caressing your cheeks “and as much as i’d want to kiss you again, chan was supposed to pick you up”

“but… we’ll stay in touch, alright?” you asked, pouting slightly. jihoon noticed the way your e/c eyes sparkled with hope and he couldn’t help but shoot you a genuine smile.

“of course. do you have any plans for the weekend? we could go on a date… like a normal one” he offered, stepping away.

you nodded with a grin, zipping up your bag. “i’d love to”

out of the blue, the door bursted open. chan was about to yell something when he noticed jihoon.

“what the fuck!” the youngest yelped.

“i hope you fall down the stairs, by the way” almost like a switch, jihoon snarled. however, this time you saw the amused smile on his sneaking lips.

“sure. you too” you shook your head and left with chan, giving jihoon a last goodbye look.

but only for now, because you’ll see him again soon.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

618 notes · View notes