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that-basic-simp · 3 days

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Let Your Hair Down

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: N/A WC: 1.2k+ A/N: This was originally going to be the first one-shot I was going to upload since this was the first one I wrote.

"You should wear your hair down more often," I said.

"And what? Get you and I killed?"

"No, I meant when we're alone. When we don't have to worry about people coming after you."

"I'm still surprised you haven't gotten killed either. Or kidnapped and made to be a prostitute."

"That makes two of us," I said.

"You really should hide yourself better."

"Like you?"

"It throws people off. And also no one will ever know because they die. A dead man tells no tales."

"Funny, weren't I the one to figure out your secret?"

"Because you kept following me when I said not to."

"You really don't remember me?"

"I try not to remember Kohama all that much."

"Can't say that I don't blame you. Kohama didn't treat me right either."

"This world doesn't treat women right."

"That's why we're not women," I smiled at Mizu.

"You do a horrible job at disguising yourself, you know that right?"

"Come on, try to be at least uplifting once in a while, Mizu."

"I can't when I am constantly worrying about our backs out here. More specifically yours."

"Aww, did I warm my way into the cold samurai's heart."

"I'm not a samurai. They're honorable. I have no honor."

"Not yet you don't."

"You think seeking revenge is honorable? It's anything but, Y/N. I don't know why you even followed me to begin with."

"Because I saw something you can't see in yourself."

"That being?"

"A lost, broken soul that is trying to get back at the people who wronged you. Especially that white man who caused your birth."

"What gave it away?" Mizu asked sarcastically.

"I wasn't finished. But also someone who constantly views themself as a monster, an onryo."

"Join basically everyone I have ever met," she sighed.

"But I also see a person who just wants someone to see you for who you truly are, not what you are."

"And who am I, Y/N?"

"You're Mizu. Simple as that."

"And who exactly is Mizu?"

I let out a soft chuckle, "Seems you need to do some soul searching, Mizu. Currently you're out for revenge, so I don't think soul searching is your thing to worry about right now."

"Well, who is Mizu to you?" she asked, curious.

"A strong person who will go the distance to get whatever needs to get done. A driven soul that wants to get back at the people who wronged you, but don't really go after those of your past. Those who treated you poorly and called you horrendous things. Just after the guy who made you and your mother suffer. Someone who is in need of a kind and caring soul," I smiled at Mizu, trying to find her true eye color, but with her tinted glasses, they weren't helping.

Closing her eyes, she reached up and removed her glasses. Slowly opening them, she tilted her head upwards. My eyes found hers. I have only seen her true eye color once in a while and it was when she glared at me over her glasses. So to finally see them in their fullest and at their most vulnerable, it reminded me of the calm waters on the peaceful beach. How clear and stark they were, piercing like the ice, cold, too. Harsh, like a winter storm was raging behind those eyes. A single tear slid from her right eye and dropped onto the floor we were sitting on.

"I'm a monster, Y/N. Simple as that. Someone who shouldn't even belong in this world."

"Yet you're still here."

"I'm here for a reason."

"Your body could have easily given up on you. But you're resilient and able to push yourself through struggles. Sure you're here to get revenge, but you being here," I reached over and grabbed her hand gently. "Is a gift."

She shook her head, "I'm not, Y/N."

"To me you are. That's all that matters. And to me, I don't see a monster."

"Then what do you see?"

"A beautiful woman or handsome man. Whichever you prefer, with the most alluring blue eyes I have ever seen. Bright like the sun lit sky, calm as the waters at a peaceful beach, and yet, harsh and cold like a winter storm."

Another tear slid down her face as she turned away, shaking her head, "I-I--"

"It's ok, Mizu."

She turned and faced me, "No one has told me that before. T-Thank you, Y/N."

"You're welcome. It's a shame people only see you for your physical features and not what you harbor on the inside. Aside from revenge," I chuckled.

A slight smile formed on her lips. It was very rare for her to smile for a long period of time. Actually, it was just rare for her to smile period. Rare to show any kind of emotion other than being serious and taking no bullshit. But for some reason, I was able to worm my way into her life and still stick around.

"Everything ok, Y/N?" she asked, a little worried.

"J-Just thinking," I said.

"Thinking about what exactly?"

"Nothing too serious. Not like I could plot to kill you. I could never raise a blade like you do. It's almost as if you learned everything on your own. All the different fighting skills and blended it together to kind of make your own."

"I guess you could look at that in a sense."

"You're amazing, Mizu. You know that, right?"

Looking into her eyes, they widened slightly and she blinked a few times. Her mouth opened and closed before some pink crawled underneath her eyes. Reaching over, I placed my hand on her left cheek, turning her head to face me.

"Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Because I will come back and prove them wrong."

The right corner of her mouth twitched slightly, as if she was going to smile but didn't. My eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips. Letting out a soft sigh, she reached up and removed the string that held her hair together. Her long, raven like hair fell down past her shoulders. It really complimented her blue eyes, making them stand out even more than they already do. I couldn't help myself now.

Leaning towards her, I lightly placed my lips against hers. A surprised sound came from her as she backed up slightly, causing me to pull back.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I should have asked. Fuck," I breathed out, some tears forming in my eyes now. "I-I read into it too much, didn't I, Mizu? Shit, I-I'm so so sorry, I-I didn't mean t--"

I was cut off by Mizu returning the gesture. Fluttering my eyes closed, I reached up with both of my hands and dug them into her silk like locks. Pulling away, she found my eyes and smiled. It was soft, genuine, and for the first time, full of love and admiration for someone.

"Don't be sorry," she whispered. "I should have done that first, but you beat me to it."

I giggled, "You know, I was right."

"About what?"

"That you look gorgeous with your hair down. Or handsome. Whichever one you prefer."

"I prefer yours," she smirked.

My eyes widened and blinked rapidly as blush crawled onto my cheeks.

"I--uhm--uhhh," my mind went blank.

She chuckled and pulled away, "Thank you, Y/N."

"Y-You're welcome, Mizu," I said once I gathered my thoughts.

Sitting beside her, I set my hand down. Looking down from the corner of her eye, Mizu placed her hand on top of mine. Smiling, I leaned against her shoulder, placing my head on hers. Hers rested against mine and both of our eyes closed, taking in one another as we fell asleep, getting some much needed rest.

#mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eye samurai

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bg3trashcompactor · 23 hours

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I wrote a smutty one shot because I wanted to sin outside of the longer fic I’m working on and felt like I needed the practice.

I Think He Knows

Link to story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55385323

Astarion comes home early unexpectedly as a week long case wraps up before lunch.

He is going to scold you for leaving your dirty adventuring gear in a heap downstairs, but is so happy you're home he almost forgets all about it.

Until he sees what you were doing in his dirty clothes in your freshly changed bedsheets…

(POV female Reader x Magistrate Astarion/3k words of straight up filth underneath the cut)

You were so close to your climax, rubbing and thrusting the soft, spongy spot inside of your entrance with your fingers when you heard the jingling sound of the front door opening.

Shit.

“Darling, home from your adventuring so soon?” The voice of your beloved calls out to you, the musical words carried up the stairs by the acoustics of your shared townhome.

How are you home so early? What in the nine hells- how is he home so early? He sounded fairly confident in the sending spell he replied to as you made your way within the final stretch of the road home that jury deliberations were going to take at least until the end of the day.

You can hear him grumble unintelligible words of disapproval at the filthy armor you had peeled off shortly after you arrived home and left on the floor of the foyer.

“Adventuring gear strewn about the floor again? My sweet, we’ve talked about this…”

Your heart pounds from his scolding and you sit up in bed, covering your drenched thighs with the soft, clean linens of the duvet. Hands wet with the slick of your arousal work swiftly to halfway fasten the buttons of his dirty work shirt that you blamed for the cause of your activities after you had arrived home early.

The stairs creak under the weight of his feet as he makes his way up to your shared bedroom.

Running your hands through your hair, you try to smooth out the area that had been frizzled by your rutting, wiping the sweat off your brow.

You can feel a heat wash over you when you flush at the sight of your husband whisking around the corner of the hallway in irritation, black silk robes floating behind him as he sharply turned the corner. He was always gorgeous, but there was something irresistible about him in his magistrate garb- even more so when he would take it off.

An involuntary clench rocks your body forward when you notice he had already begun the process of undressing on his way up the stairs. His flawlessly pressed shirt had been undone a few buttons to the middle of his chest, reading glasses hanging down from a single breast pocket on his waistcoat. You followed the trail down his lithe frame to his fine silver and black leather belt, down the lines of immaculately tailored trousers.

Whatever temper that had flared in him melts away just as quickly as it had arrived. After a very long week of going through the motions without you at his side, the ache in his chest that set in with your absence fills with a warm light at the sight of you in your bed. You are finally home.

The intensity of the look you share while he stands in the doorway makes you suddenly aware of how your nipples felt brushing against the fine linen of his filthy shirt as you breathe…and the throbbing sensation between your legs.

“My brave heroine, have you returned from your travels victorious?” He lilts, sauntering over to you.

“Even if we had found the mountains of gold rumored to exist underneath the City, it wouldn’t compare to the treasure that awaits me when I return.”

You capture his face with your hands when he looms over you, drawing him to stand at the edge of the bed. You shift your hips and move your legs so that the insides of your knees are touching the finely woven and expensive wool of his trousers.

“Clever little thing, using my own honeyed words against me.”

When your lips meet his, it is so perfect, so sweet that it tugs the strings of your heart. You pull away momentarily before slanting your mouths hungrily against each other. A half-lidded, lusty gaze from him and a ragged breath from you snap you both together like two ends of a magnet.

Your tongues glide against each other in concert as you kiss deeply, devouring each other now that you have broken your fast. You catch his tongue in your mouth and suck on it like you would his cock, eliciting an obscene groan that vibrates in the back of his throat.

He reaches up to pinch your nipples through his shirt, disarming you as you squeal and pull away. Dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, he chuckles at the filthy moan it draws out from you.

He pauses, his expression flattening as he sniffs the fingers that clutch his face. Suspicious eyes point downward at your uncovered lap, focusing on the sheen that coats the inside of your thighs in a vertical line. His pointed ears perk up and you sharply inhale as he nips the finger that had been inside of you minutes ago.

“Well, well. Couldn’t wait until I returned home? You naughty girl,” he grits out, squeezing your hands that rest on the side of his face. You clench again at his scolding, maneuvering your legs to rest inside of his to hide the rest of the evidence, pressing your knees tightly together.

“Perhaps I wanted to be ready for you when you returned home,” you purr out, surging forward to take his lower lip in between your teeth. Your front teeth clack together as he pulls away from you, straightening up with a dark, throaty chuckle.

“You’re a terrible liar, darling,” he turns away to drape the fine, obsidian silk of his magistrate robes over the same dressing bench you had found his perfumed and discarded shirt. Next, he removes his waistcoat in a similar fashion, placing his reading glasses with care on the bedside table next to you.

“While I am grateful that you never developed the skill for deception, you seem to have forgotten how well I know your particular brand of foolishness,” he takes the cufflinks out of his sleeves and rolls them up, tugging at the ends to ensure they are secured. You bite your lip and lean back on your hands in anticipation of what’s to follow. He has you trained like a pet, needy and eager for his touch.

“It seems a reminder is in order,” Astarion breathes out, running both his hands up your knees, over the tops of your thighs. He grasps the crest of your hips, a perfect handle for him to guide and manipulate your movements.

He revels in seeing you like this, desperate for his touch. You gasp out in surprise when he digs his fingers in, yanking you forward towards him.

“Have you forgotten how we would rip the armor off each other after battle back in our adventuring days? How we could barely make it upstairs at the inn or into our tents after a long day on the road?” He kneels down in front of you while he issues the reminder. You match his eye level as he speaks and lean back on your arms, watching Astarion slowly pry your legs apart.

“After the very last job we completed together you blamed the adrenaline rush that consumed you for your voracious appetite, almost stroking me to completion under the table at the Elfsong,” He kisses a line up your thighs, his lips lingering on you as he moves closer towards your drenched core.

“What can I say? I’m cursed to put my hands on everything. If I remember correctly, your hand was also up my skirt, doing the same thing- hah! That was a good night. My favorite part was when you fucked me in the alley later against the walls of the tavern.”

He pauses at your recollections, his face having reached the apex between your thighs. You crane your head up to see his eyes peeking above the crest of your sex, half-lidded and cloudy with lust.

“Cursed to put your hands on everything, you say?” Astarion rumbles out, gently moving your legs wider as he presses his lips to the corner of the inside of your thighs.

“Could you be a good girl for me and keep your hands to yourself while I pleasure you?”

You felt his warm tongue then, lapping and sucking along your tender flesh. Throwing your head back, you gasp at the sensation, rolling your hips forward. He suddenly withdraws his mouth with a pop, giving you a wicked look before languidly running the flat of his tongue against your slick, soaked outer lips.

Your wandering hands that had begun to card through his silver curls tense and freeze above him while he languidly licks up and down your center, the sensation driving you mad.

You need more.

Grasping the back of his head, you make an attempt to mash your engorged clit against his nose with a sudden upwards thrust of your hips, whining in desperation when you feel the sudden loss of him pull back from you.

“Ah-ah, what did I say, little love?” he tuts, delivering a single, punishing flick of his middle finger to your clit.

The only response he receives is you sobbing out his name, your back arching with the pain and pleasure of his correction. He leans on his elbow on the side of the bed and looks up at you expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

“Delicious as that was, I believe I am still owed a different reply,” he repeats the motion and you throw your head back, keening as you undulate your back against now rumpled bedsheets.

“Hells, Astarion, it’s not like I’m on trial,” you complain breathlessly. He perks up suddenly and rests a hand underneath his chin, the other drawing lazy circles on your hip, a villainous twinkle in his eye as he regards you with bemusement.

Uh oh.

“Now there’s an idea, love,” he drawls out, drumming his fingers on the crest of your hip. The tapping of his fingers unexpectedly feels good…really good. The percussion elicits a small roll upwards from your hips to meet them.

“...There’s an idea indeed. But we can’t have you showing up to your court date still filthy from the road, can we? In the tub you go, up you pop,” he orders, holding his hands out to you.

Once you are sitting on the bed, arms raised above your head, he lets go suddenly. The motion leaves you confused until you feel the barest touch of his fingers tracing up your sides. He collects the edges of his rumpled shirt, raising it above your head. Hastily throwing it aside, his hands return to cup your full and aching breasts. Thumbs draw lazy circles around your pert nipples, you hear him hum in appreciation when they pebble and harden with his touch.

“Can you stand up for me, beautiful?” You sat forward, feeling only a little unsteady on your feet from the orgasm that you were so recently denied as you rise.

Your mouth opens in surprise when Astarion sweeps you up in his arms. He carries you to the tiled bathing room, setting you down in the tub while he activates the enchantments that fill it with rapidly with warm water.

He wastes no time unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it slowly from his chest. You watch him make quick work of removing his clothing with practiced ease. He enters the waters of the bathing tub with you in a fluid motion, denying your hungry gaze the view of his naked form that it so desperately craves.

He takes a sponge sitting on a built-in ledge on the wall and soaks it in the water, ringing it out. He swipes it sensually up the side of your breasts, slowly down your neck. Maneuvering you to face away from him, you gasp out as he perches your slippery sex upon on his thigh. The sponge goes down below the water and you chase your pleasure rutting along him while he brushes in long strokes up and down your abdomen, to the bottom of your breasts, gently kissing the side of your neck.

You’re an absolute mess. You grasp the edge of the tub, head thrown back against Astarion’s shoulder in ecstasy, breasts bobbing up toward the surface of the water.

“Please, please Astarion…” you gasp out, a pressure building in your core as you rock along the alabaster expanse of his thigh, your legs spreading wider underneath the water.

“Please what, darling? Use your words,” He licks a line from your neck, up to your sensitive ears, nipping and sucking along the cartilage. You cry out softly at the sensation, squirming in his lap.

“I need you inside me…please,”

Astarion presses a kiss to your shoulder and looks around the would be peaceful and quiet bathing room. Lazy rays of the mid-day sunlight stream in through the sheer window treatments that illuminated the tiled and grouted surfaces of the floors and walls. At this time of day, he would be going through cases and preparing notes to bring with him to his next session at the beginning of the next tenday.

Seizing the opportunity his pause brings, you grasp his hand in yours, plunging it down below the water, the destination between your legs.

You hear a knowing chuckle behind you when he slips free of your grasp with an effortless rotation of his wrist. He encircles you with strong arms, nimble fingers pinching both of your nipples tightly. He smiles devilishly as you moan and writhe against him. Now that you’re cleaned up, it’s time to get dirty again.

“Mrs. Ancunin. As it stands, you are being accused of pleasuring yourself while you are filthy on our freshly cleaned sheets. How do you plead?” He practically growls out the last few words, the change in timbre sending a shiver up your spine.

“Ah! Not guilty…”

Astarion bites a sensitive spot on the side of your neck that he knows drives you absolutely insane. He flicks his tongue over your skin, delighting in your sobs of frustration.

“Not guilty your…?” he asks in between swipes of his tongue.

“Your honor” you gasp out, gripping the seat of the tub beneath the water with white knuckles.

“Present your proof to the court.” He nips at the crook of your neck.

“I was…uhm…technically ‘resting’ when you got home. I didn’t know the sheets were freshly changed. And…I almost stood on my own just now without falling down…so if it’s all the same to you-” you lift your hips and angle them so that you are almost successful at impaling yourself on his twitching cock. He catches you at the waist, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

“Wicked thing. Are you ready for your verdict?” He tuts, lowering you just enough so that your slick and throbbing entrance is barely grazing along the tip of his penis.

“Yes, your honor,” you gasp, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“On the count of pleasuring yourself while you are filthy, I find you guilty.” He whips you around to face him and hungrily claims your lips, still holding you above him. He moans greedily in to your mouth as you try to grind down on him again, he’s not sure how much longer he can resist you. You're so eager, so responsive, and all his.

You break the kiss by successfully dragging your teeth over his lower lip.

“And my sentence, your honor?”

He releases your waist.

“Ride me.”

You both groan out and curse in mutual relief as you plunge down on his length. Your walls are already beginning to tighten around him, pulsating with the lewd sounds that you both make, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathing room. Astarion growls at the sight of your breasts that slap against the surface of the water and the feeling of your walls milking his cock.

He grabs your ass and yanks you forward, positioning you over him that his mouth is on your breast, licking and sucking your sensitive nub. He slams up into you, moving your hips up and down on him, guiding himself deeper. You feel the rumble of his ecstasy bring you closer to your peak as you sob out with pleasure at the change of movement and pace.

“Gods, Astarion I’m so close,” you’re so perfect, so tight around him-

“Then let go, my sweet.”

The spasming of your walls against him send him over the edge with you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, moaning your name in euphoric relief. The profane noises of his release, sensation of his warm seed shooting into you, his cock spasming inside of you brings you to the peak again.

“I can’t stop, Astarion, I can’t…ahhhh!”

A second wave crashes through you. He continues to fuck you through your drawn out orgasm, marveling at how beautiful you are unraveling in his arms. Slowing the pace he kisses you again, savoring the taste of you as your hips gradually slow down and lift off of him.

Giving him a satisfied sigh, you nuzzle your forehead into his neck.

“And they both went to horny jail and lived happily ever after.”

“Technically, it would be prison. Jail is for holding the accused prior to sentencing my love,” You grumble and nip his ear in irritation at the reminder.

Astarion laughs softly, kissing the side of your flushed and sweaty face.

“What do you say we dry off and take this to the other room? I’d like to request a hearing to negotiate an early…release,” you nip and suck your way along the line of his pointed ears, eliciting a new series of debauched noises from his lips.

“You’re insatiable,” he says with a smile, throwing his head back in bliss.

He wraps your legs around his waist, supporting your back with his strong, lean arms as he stands the two of you up. You watch the water drain away with his utterance of the correct enchantments under his breath.

“Early release is only granted for good behavior, prisoner- which you haven’t demonstrated since you arrived home. I hope you’re ready for your punishment.”

#astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #magistrate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction

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tlacehualli · 1 year

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META + familia

In Mexican culture - most Latino cultures really - family was everything. Maybe in a different life, she would have been that girl. Maybe not the apple of her parents' eye, 'cause she certainly would have ended up some kind of troublemaker, but she would have been somebody, she would have belonged. She was one of a bunch of kids and the daughter of parents and the granddaughter of grandparents and they'd been close knit as any other family. She still had faint memories of quinces when her cousins had turned 15, big birthday parties, weddings, tios and tias drinking beer. The way her oldest sister had coughed her lungs out when abuela had given her her first shot. Olivia had been a kid but she'd laughed with her and her sister's glare hadn't felt so serious when she'd managed to smile after it passed.

They were gone now though and she'd been alone for a time before she'd fallen in with new family. Los Muertos was a gang and like most gangs, tended to attract those who had nothing else to turn to. In the wake of the omnic crisis and La Medianoche, that had been a lot of orphans. Being orphaned in a really family oriented culture carried with it a special sort of anguish; Olivia remembered even the older kids, 18, 19, would sometimes look off into the distance in the direction of loud music and they'd see a family celebrating a birthday or a wedding or even just the fact it was Monday together and be overcome with the deepest longing. Los Muertos couldn't replace everything they'd lost, but they sought to bring something back to each other and to their community.

She lost that through her own immense hubris. She'd tried to stay, she wanted nothing more than to stay, with them, at home, close to where the bones of her family lay, where she could come back - even in her first couple years as Sombra instead of as her - every Dia de los Muertos to offer food and tequila and light candles and remember them, 'cause that was the one day of the year she actually got to be with them.

A big part of her never thought she'd have something like that again after joining Talon. Talon wasn't like Los Muertos. Sure, any asshole in the Mexican government would say they were another gang, but she wasn't the type of person to be easily led astray by propaganda. Talon was kind of fucked up. In comparison to Overwatch though - the world's supercops - the choice was pretty easy, and made quick before that Red Eye could peer too close and burn what little remained of Olivia away.

Yet she did. She'd taken to Moira quickly - and just as quickly been burned for it - too young, looking up to someone like that out of some need to belong. But for a moment she'd wanted a mentor. The Widow was a complex study in hubris, the remnants of the very Catholic guilt she felt, the desire to make up for her litany of sins - but Sombra also loved her something fierce as the years grew long and she always, always looked out for her. For all Talon had tried to wipe every trace of humanity from the Widow, the Widow cared about her too in her own way. Reaper, they weren't close like that but there is the bond that is born from familiarity and ten years was a damn long time. The old man had essentially watched her grow up from a young woman into the walking disaster she was now, and he found her annoying, but he had her back when she needed it, and that was mutual. Sigma and Siebren instilled within her the same sense of responsibility as the Widow had originally, but without the complexity of her guilt eating away at her. Sigma was sweet, Siebren could be calculating, but the hint of one lay in the other and she found it easy to offer them companionship and warmth that was difficult to find elsewhere in Talon ranks.

Maybe by tragedy of circumstance, or maybe it was just something about her, but in a lot of ways, Sombra was Talon's beating heart far more than she was its eyes and ears or a knife in the dark. As fucked up as it all was, they were her family. Only one the world had let her keep.

#asks #anon #hc #hit me right in the South American #shot through the heart and you're to blame #you give love a bad name

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ghirahims-trophyhusband · 2 years

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oh no i was going through my files and...... Narcian...... mi amore.... my terrible little rat bastard who’s all bark and no bite, couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag

#shot through the heart and you're to blame #fo #feh #fetbb #goldie speaks #gnaws on his arm (affectionate)

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finnlongman · 2 months

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You're not allowed to see the playlist for To Run With The Hound at the moment because the Muddle Ages are gremlins, so it's terrible.

(Which is to say it's 90% great and then it also contains things like You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi and every single time I listen to it, I experience shrimp emotions.)

#SHOT THROUGH THE HEART / AND YOU'RE TO BLAME #to run with the hound

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raayllum · 10 months

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Stabbed in the heart

+ Bonus?

#didn't include ibis bc it seems like it might've been more upper stomach but it's hard to angle wise #heart motif #the cycle #arc 1 #parallels #round and round it goes #screencap parallels #My Heart For Xadia you could say #key to his heart theory #do you know how hard it was to keep this serious and not have the caption be 'shot through the heart and you're to blame #YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!'

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thebluejayne · 4 months

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this one's for the toxic yuri enjoyers

mary x tanya ship playlist but the first song on it is You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi

#youjo senki #tanya von degurechaff #the saga of tanya the evil #tanya degurechaff #mary sioux #mary sue #SHOT THROUGH THE HEART #AND YOU'RE TO BLAME

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voided-selfships · 6 months

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This is my boyfriend Kian and thus is his girlfriend Becky

#and they are both weird bug monsters and- /silly #and we're all doomed by the narrative! okay! /silly #sorry anyway #shot through the heart! and you're to blame! || 💙#you give love a bad name! || ♦️#whispers into the void || chatter

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windfighter · 2 years

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Shot through the heart

”Are you done in there?” Kouichi called and knocked on the door.

Kouji stared into the mirror, looked at the pink scars on his chest. Touched his fingers to the round one over his heart. He took a shaky breath and wrapped the towel around his waist.

”Yeah, I’m coming.”

”They’re expecting us soon!” Kouichi said through the door.

Kouji pulled his fingers through his hair. He should probably brush it.

”Do you think I should cut my hair?” he asked.

”You don’t have time”, Kouichi answered.

”Geeze”, Kouji rolled his eyes. ”You’re acting like we’re going to miss the mating season of the cicadas.”

”...what?”

Kouji grabbed the brush on the sink and opened the door.

”Nevermind”, he said, ”forgot you don’t care about nature.”

Kouichi stared at him. Blinked. Kouji followed Kouichi’s gaze. The scar right over his heart. Kouichi lifted a hand to it.

”That one’s… new…” he said.

His voice was shaky. Kouji stepped to the side and looked away.

”Shot through the heart”, he said. ”Bullet got lodged in my spine.”

He turned around and gestured to a scar on his back. It wasn’t as bright as the one after the bullet and harder to spot inbetween all the other scars.

”They spent an hour trying to dig it out. Thought I’d get paralyzed for life.”

You should be dead, they had told him. Kouichi turned him around, looked at the scar over his heart again.

”Through… the heart.”

He looked at Kouji.

”You should be dead. How?”

”Weren’t we in a rush?” Kouji said with a forced laugh.

”Junpei and Izumi can wait.”

”You’re just jealous ’cause their kids like me better.”

”They only like you because of your fake leg”, Kouichi forced a smile.

”I’m the immortal pirate king”, Kouji said with a laugh and pushed Kouichi towards the bathroom. ”Go get ready.”

”I want to look at your journal”, Kouichi said and Kouji rolled his eyes again.

”Whatever makes you happy”, he answered and turned his back to Kouichi to head to the bedroom.

Kouichi closed the door. Kouji sank down on the bed and stared at his hands.

------

There was a loud bang, followed by pain. Kouji was slung backwards, his body skidded across the ground. Frenci screamed nearby, called his name. Kouji put a hand on his chest. Moist. He lifted the hand. Blood. A lot of blood. He let the hand fall down again. The pain was already subsiding.

So this is how death feels, he thought. He stared at the sky. Gray, filled with heavy clouds. Fitting, he guessed. He took deep breaths, hoped Frenci would help the family out of there, get away from the military. He always knew he’d die early, and hadn’t ever expected to live to fifty.

Life had been good to him, he assumed. He had seen a lot. Got stuck in a cave once or twice. Stepped on a very venomous snake. Saved the world. Saved people. Found his twin. Seen a lot of the animals on his bucket list.

He hadn’t seen a snow leopard yet though.

The military walked past him without sending him as much as a glance. He was just another casualty, another person they didn’t view as a human. Kouji held no adoration for any kind of military. If he had a pistol he’d use his last breaths to fire at them.

Perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t any better than them.

He closed his eyes, waited for his heart to slow down and stop. He was tired, the loss of blood getting to him. He drifted off, the sound of gunshots echoed through the town.

Frenci was there, pressing their hands to Kouji’s chest. Kouji blinked and drifted off again. Frenci was always there when something went south. He was glad he was allowed to see Frenci one last time before death would drag him away completely.

Kouji was being carried through underground tunnels. There was barely any light. How was he still alive? He couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to try and speak. He closed his eyes again.

He was on his stomach. He could feel tools in his back, moving around and cutting through the muscles. His heart beat steady against his ribs. He tried to turn his head, see what they were doing and what was going on, but his head was stuck. Understandable, it was hard to operate on people who were moving around. He tried to relax. How hadn’t he died yet?

----

”You should be dead.”

Kouji pulled out a plastic jar from his backpack, stared at the bullet in it. He heard Kouichi get out of the bathroom. There wouldn’t be anything in Kouji’s medical journal about the bullet or the operation, he would have to explain the whole thing himself. He heard Kouichi’s steps come closer and stop in the doorway.

”I don’t know how I’m alive”, Kouji said.

He looked at the bullet, turned the jar around in his hand. Held it for Kouichi to look at.

”No one knows. It took half an hour before Frenci could get to me, even longer before I got to the doctors.”

Kouichi took the jar and held it up against the ceiling light. Looked at it as if it held the answers. Kouji looked at his hands.

”My heart never even stopped beating. I lost so much blood, but nothing happened.”

Kouichi gave the jar back to Kouji and sat down next to him. Kouji’s thigh protested when the prostethic didn’t quite move with the mattress and he closed one eye against the pain. Kouji laughed.

”Immortal pirate king”, he said.

”That’s just stories the kids are making up”, Kouichi said with a frown. ”Come with me to the hospital tomorrow, let me run some tests.”

”It was a month ago”, Kouji said and put the bullet away again. ”You won’t find anything.”

”I know, but… just to calm my nerves.”

Kouji sighed and patted Kouichi’s leg.

”Yeah, okay. I’ll do it for you.”

He hoped it would answer his own questions as well, but he didn’t want to admit that. He pulled the brush through his hair and smiled at Kouichi.

”We should probably get ready, or else Junpei might call the police.”

”Right, I’ll go get dressed. We leave in ten minutes.”

Kouichi stood up and left. Kouji took the bullet up again. He should be dead. Hopefully whatever tests Kouichi would be doing would give them some kind of answer to why he wasn’t.

#my writing #digimon frontier #kouichi kimura #kouji minamoto #implied junzumi #future fic #hurt kouji #tw blood #tw gunshot #me and jumper-zuzu has been talking about immortal kouji x3 #so I blame her for this story x3 #Future Kouji has been through a LOT of crap #most of it because of us #Kouji still doesn't have an apartment in Italy so he stays at Kouichi's or Takuya's place when he's there #He's welcome to stay at junzumi's place as well but while he likes the kids it gets a little too lively for him #♫ Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You give love a bad name ♫

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