I'm so embarrassed but here it is! š so there's y/n who is addicted to coffee flavored candies but doesn't like drinking coffee. which five finds very confusing. She's always offering five candy but ofc, five answers grumpily like "it's not the same thing as coffee"ā and suddenly goes to a part where they kiss (idk how it leads to this omg) and five is absolutely ENAMORED with her lips bcs of all the coffee candy she eats..
is this too much explaining or what.. ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE U LOTS <3
thisā¦ this is THE request. thank you for this šāāļø
Sweet Flavor | F. Hargreeves
pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader
wc; 637
warnings: might make you blush lololol
synopsis: five refuses to try your favorite candy, so you make him
a/n: feeding yall today š youāre welcome! half way through s3 šŖ also aged up five ofc!
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt listĀ
ā
Five sighs, leaning on the table as you take a seat next to him.
āReally embracing the old man, huh?ā You said, referring to his unusual outfit. Instead of the academy uniform, heād opted for a vest, flannel, and fedora combination. You honestly wondered where he found it.
Five hums. āYes, I am. Itās called retirement.ā
You just laugh at him, unwrapping one of your Werther's caramel coffee candies. Five wrinkles his nose in disgust as you hand one towards him. āWant one?ā
āIād rather save the world again. Naked,ā He sassily replied.
āI wouldnāt say that if I were you,ā You tease, popping the candy into your mouth and sighing at this sweet-bitter flavor.
āWhy donāt you just drink regular coffee?ā He asked. āLike a sane person?ā
āBecause coffee is nasty,ā You said, sticking your tongue out at him and displaying the small candy. āThere are better.ā
āTheyāre not even close to the same thing,ā He grumbled.
You raise a brow at him. āAnd how would you know? Youāve never had one.ā
āYeah, whatever,ā he dismisses, getting up and inspecting the hotel buffet. You follow after him, popping another candy in your mouth.
āSo, what are you thinking of doing since youāre retired?ā
Five grabs a cup and fills it with coffee. āI donāt know. Traveling? Isnāt that what people do nowadays?ā
You scoff, āYeah, people who donāt like barely eighteen.ā
He swats at you, returning to your seats. āIāll drive.ā
He pours some syrup over his pancakes, and you pout. āIf you like that much syrup, youād love the candies just as much.ā
āCoffee is supposed to taste bitter, not filled with artificial flavoring.ā
āYou donāt know till you try.ā
āI do know, and Iām telling you now, that is shit,ā He points at your mouth with his knife.
You frown, suckling on the candy and its sweet flavor. You were lucky to have found them back in 1963, and now you just kept a handful in your pocket at all times.
āYou didnāt like me at first, and nowā¦ā
āThatās completely different,ā He defends.
You laugh. āReally? Cause youāre a bitter old man, and Iām the sweetest person ever.ā
āYou are far from the sweetest person ever.ā
āThatās not the point, Five,ā You huff.
He smiles at you. āIsnāt it, darling?ā
āJust try one,ā You urged, tossing the wrapped candy at his face. āPlease.ā
"Try a cup of coffee, and Iāll consider it.ā
āI have tried a cup of coffee.ā
āWhen?ā
You roll your eyes. āPrior to when we met.ā
āThen, I tried your coffee-flavored candyā¦ prior to when we met.ā
You glare at Five, and he just smirks, taking a bite of his pancakes.
āPlease,ā You beg.
āNo.ā
āButāā
āNo.ā
āTheyāreāā
āNo.ā
āFive.ā
āNo.ā
You click your tongue, still rolling the candy in your mouth when a thought occurs to you. Five notices the mischievous look on your face, and his eyebrows furrow together.
ā(Y/N)āā
Heās cut off when you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips together. His hands fly to cup your cheeks as the taste of the candy invades his mouth. And holy shit, he loves it. His lips press harder against yours, almost making you fall off the seat as he chases the flavor.
And then, before you know it, he slips his tongue in and relishes the sweet flavor. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth, trying to seek the sugary treat he so desires. You let out a quiet whine, brain fuzzy at the action. Five groans as you tug on his hair, tongue invading your mouth, and then he pulls back.
Youāre stunned, blinking as your lips smack together. And then you notice something missing and gasp.
Five grins, sticking his tongue to display your coffee-flavored caramel proudly on his tongue.
āYou littleāā
ā END ā
š· five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith
Ooo imagine resting your head on Mikeyās chest and you start tracing his tattoo >.> and maybe give him a little kiss too
- tired
pairing. manila!mikey manjiro sano Ć gn!reader
warning. swearing + suggestive
sticky-note. read slowly for maximum enjoyment!
a smile of satisfaction breaks out onto your face when mikey shivers from underneath your touch, your fingers lightly trailing the surface of his skin with the intricate curves and twirls of his beautiful tattoo.
āi didnāt know you were ticklish around your neck,ā you teased, slightly lowering your hand to āinnocentlyā trace his collarbones instead. pride secretly swells in your chest when your gaze falls upon the tense locking of his jaw. āif you told me sooner, i wouldāve bothered you a lot more.ā
āwhich is exactly why i didnāt tell you,ā he quietly grumbles, and you dramatically gasp when he adds with a flick your forehead, āyou menace.ā
āme, a menace? in this relationship? you literally tried to tie the both of my shoelaces together the other day!ā
mikeyās low chuckle makes blood rush to your face. āit was funny, letās be honest.ā
āno, it certainly was not.ā before he can speak again, you lean forward to infuriatingly kiss his tattoo, and his mouth closes right back up in both annoyance and at the pleasure. victory. āhas anyone told you?ā
ātell...ā he trails off, shooting you a hopeless glare when you donāt stop pressing soft, demanding, kisses against his sharp jawline. he slowly breathes out, ātell me what?ā
in your mind, you are simply annoying him, but to manjiro sanoāyouāre way too good at distracting him.
āthat youāre really cute when youāre ticklish.ā
and he is so pretty when his ears are red.
mikeyās pretty already, in general, but gosh, are you happy to test your limits of teasing your boyfriend. back then (in the āgood old daysā), he was the one who teased you without mercy to no endātoday is your fateful revenge.
or not. when he beckons you closer with just a bend of his fingers, you scoot closer immediately, obedient.
ācāmere.ā
his hand trails to the back of your head, gently pulling you forward to sweetly meet your lips with his. warmth excitedly rushes throughout you, and youāre already smiling when he tilts his head to make it more comfortable for you. and, holy shit, he is such a good kisserā slowly but surely pushing forward into your space and bringing your figure closer to his.
mikeyās touch is gentle; as if cradling and taking care of a baby, and you can only hum in content when he soothingly places an unoccupied hand to your back. he steadies you as he generously kisses you, andā
āh-hey!ā you whine when he suddenly pulls away, unashamed as your eyes instantly drop down to his soft lips, then back to his pretty dark eyes. he raises an eyebrow at your gaze. ādonāt just stop there...ā
āwhy not?ā now, itās his turn to be a little shit as he tilts his head innocently, propping himself up with a hand on your thigh and getting off of the couch you two were seated on. āiām kind of tired now. imma head to bed, then, alright?ā
hoping to tempt him and possibly change his answer, you adorably pout as he presses one last kiss to your forehead. he only pats your head in return, ignoring your look and walking back to your shared bedroomāas if it wasnāt only one in the afternoon and he wasnāt just kissing you.
the moment he is out of earshot, you turn and screamāor squealāinto a pillow, frustrated, because why does mikey have to be so goddamn annoying and attractive at the same time?
He decides youāll be of more use to him and Bonten as his darling "sister".
No one sees the start of Mikeyās crippling obsession for Kisakiās sister until itās too late.
pairing: Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano x f!reader x Bonten
content: corruption, amnesia, yandere themes, fauxcest, manipulation, dc, and smut. other content warnings will be tagged individually per part.
note: there's no way i can do this idea justice in just one part so i'm starting another tr series. this is my piece for @bokuroskitten's 'Are you Shy!?' collab. pray for me y'all this is all i'm going to be working on to make the deadline.
SYNOPSIS: Manjiro Sano doesn't know how to say goodbye before heading off to his job, so he promises to come back, instead.
content warnings: fluff and smut
"I have to go."
He says it while you're bothlying, supine and sated, in the darkness of the room. The air is close and warm, muggy with the lingering scent of sweat and sexāneither of you have bothered to move. For you, Mikey's arms are far more comfortable, and for him, these moments are far too precious to be wasted.
But he knows it can't last.
"Right now?" you ask, stretching slowly as you shift against him. "You told me you had a job. You didn't say when." The line of your abdomen peels away from his as you push yourself up on your hands. It's too dark in here to see, but you've never needed light to see right through him. "Does it have to be now?"
He reaches out in the gloom and slides a hand down the outside of your arm. "You know why."
You sigh, and he senses as you move away from him, sitting up with your back turned. "All right," you say, but your voice is sullen, glum. He trails his fingers down your back, following the furrow of your spine until they catch on the scar, the great furrow that runs from the bottom of your ribs all the way around to your tailbone.Ā
He could have lost you so easily, so many times. But this was a time when he came the closest, and while you are still healing, he will let no harm come to you. He will not even let harm come near you. And while it frustrates you, you accept it.
"I won't be long. I promise."
He feels your hair slide over his fingers as you turn your chin to your shoulder. You don't say anything for a moment, then you draw in a deep breath, like you're steeling yourself. You never like it when he goes out, but this is the way things have to be.
This is the way of his life.
He feels, rather than sees, your smile. You take his hand in your two smaller ones. "Want some help getting your suit on?"
He doesn't think much of the shake in your voice until later.
---
It's slow going. First Mikey puts on his underclothes. He doesn't need help with that, at least.
You are content to lay in the dark until he has his trousers on. With a touch at the control panel by the door, the automated blinds open, letting in the light from the early sunrise fill the space with a muted blue glow. You sit up, and Mikey takes a moment to admire the curves of your body.
He admires you for perhaps too long, for you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head with a smile he knows all too well. "Having second thoughts?" you ask, all innocence and light, and he presses his lips together in a tight, mirthless line albeit reluctantly.
You don't see the reluctance, though he hopes you can feel it.
Mikey sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for his longsleeves. You help him guide it over his shoulders, and onto his body buttoning him in without him needing to ask. Although your hands linger here and there you don't make it obvious.
You help him with the necktie next. Your palms do linger there, pressed over chest. He folds his hands over yours, allowing the touch as he tilts his head to look down at your face.
This is not the first time he has allowed you to help him. But it is the first time you have cried while doing so.
Mikey feels the air leave his lungs, a weight settling in his chest. You are reverent, careful always, but crying? Never.
"Love?" he questions softly, taking your hands in his. "What is it?"
"It's stupid," you sniff around your tears, shaking your head. "I justāI'm not used to this."
Your fingers squeeze his. "Used to what?" Mikey prompts.
"I'm not sure if it's your fear or mine," you say, so quietly he has to lean in to hear it. "But ever since I was hurt, every time you leave, IāI'm terrified."
His chest pangs again, and he draws you into his arms, the thought that he has caused you distress boiling in the pit of his stomach like acid. Mikey doesn't just want to wipe away your tears; he wants to erase them from existence, eradicate the very possibility of them, burn down everything in world that could possibly cause you pain and make it so that you never have to cry about anything ever again.
It hurts. And the fact that he knows that's impossible hurts most of all.
"I don't want this," you whisper, and your hands, pressed against his sternum, curl into fists. "I don't want to be thisāweak and weeping thing, holding you backāI'm sorry, I-"
He grabs your wrists before you can take them away and cants his head to catch your gaze. Your face is red and flushed in splotches over your cheeks, moisture shining in tracks down your face and above your upper lip, which trembles as you fight your emotions. You are beautiful.
"You are not weak," he tells you, "You are brave."
"I'm not, Mikey, I'm scared, for fuck's sakeā"
"Bravery is not the absence of fear," he interrupts, needing it to be said, "It is the strength to move forward despite it."
It takes a moment, but he sees your lips twitch, the edges of your eyes losing some of their drawn-tight tension. "Who taught you that saying?"
"I don't know," Mikey shrugs. "But I said it. So you listen."
You are still naked, he realizes. Naked and half-sitting in his lap, straddling one of his thighs, he can feel your heat through the fabric of his trousers. He swallows heavily as you smile up at him, beatific, strong and vulnerable all at onceāeverything he wants, everything he needs, everything he loves but could never accept, would never allow himself to accept until now.
Your hands travel up his chest and he shivers. He feels pressure, pressure and your soft, supple weight as you settle more fully in his lap. You lean in and press a kiss, sweet and reverential against his forehead, and his breath falls into a stutter for a moment.
"Stay," you murmur, and Mikey opens his mouth to refute you until you add, "Just a little longer," and press the full length of your body against his.Ā
His hands find your hips of their own accord, and it feels as if he's worn divots there with the perfect fit of his fingers to your flesh. He rubs back and forth, drawing you in further. "Just a little longer," he repeats, his voice low and scratchy, and he doesn't miss the shiver it sends through you.
You nod then, bury your face in his neck, your breath hot, the line of your nose pressed against his pulse through the fabric. He curls a hand around one cheek of your ass and lifts his leg, urging the flexing muscle of his upper thigh into your apex. You're still messy from your earlier activities, slick with your combined fluids, and the thought of you seeping into the fabric of his trousers makes him harder than he already was, just from this.
As if sensing his thoughtsāfor all Mikey knows or minds, you might beāyou slide one of your hands down and makes room between your bodies to cup his length through the fabric. He groans and tones it down a bit, but your smile is one of triumph as if he'd cried out much louder.
"Need you," he whispers, and you sigh against his neck as his fingers drift from your hip over your stomach and finally dip between your legs. He finds your clitoris, already plush and swollen to the touch. His thumb offers short, sharp circling motions which you lean into with a gasp.Ā
Your hand doesn't stop moving, though, caressing him back and forth until he's almost at the point of being unable to stand it any longerāand then you stop, and a broken groan it tears from him. It turns into a sigh of relief as you pop open the fastenings to his pants and draw him out of his underwear, your fingers gripping his length surely, confidently.
"Already?" you murmur against his lips, your chuckle lost to a squeak as he slides a single finger inside you and curls it. You need no preparation, the passage of his digit is smoothed by your combined slick. It makes himāand youāshiver alike.
"Already?" he echoes, and your chuckle fills him with a fierce, aching joy, one he wants to make physical and pour into you until you feels it too. Mikey withdraws his hand at once and you gasp in protest, until he centers you over his lap and plants his feet against the floor for leverage to lift his hips up, the head of his cock brushing against the slick, pliant heat of your folds.
You circle him with your thighs, your knees on the bed on either side of him. You grab his shoulders in time for him to pull you down and slide up into you all at once. Your groan is an echo of his as he breaches you, thrusts home in one smooth, unhindered movement. You open around him, impossibly warm, impossibly tight, and the sensation of you enveloping himāwith your cunt, with your legs, with your armsāmakes Mikey gasp and shudder down to his bones.
You pull him close and he presses his forehead into the crook of your neck and shoulder. No matter how many times you two do this, it never fails to collapse him in on himself for a moment, utterly overcome by sensation and the simple intimacy of you allowing him into your body. He will never get used to this. He never wants to. He wants it to ruin him, to break him down into the small hollow pieces, to rebuild him in the shape of himself, but fuller .Ā
It kills Mikey a little each time that he can never express any of it, never explain how it makes him feel, but you seem to understand regardless. As if he is not held together by determination when all he really wants to do is fall apart.
For you, he is strong. For what is strength but bravery, and what is bravery but the ability to move forward through fear?
There is fear in Mikey's every touch. Fear of the unknown, of the forbidden, but it makes him treat it with the respect it is due. With the respect you are due. His hands sweep your back, gentle over your scars, over the deeper one in your side, but you barely notice. You arch into his hands, pliant and pliable, and your breasts are a delicious weight that fill his palms perfectly, your nipples pebbling between his fingers. You roll your hips in insistent impatience and Mikey is all too eager to oblige, lifting up into you with the clench of his thighs and abdomen, and it pulls a groan from his gut as he slides through the impassable grip of your fluttering walls.
Just a little longer, he tells himself as he falls back and thrusts up again, and again, guiding your body with his hands on your neck, your waist, your hips. He wants to be everywhere, all over you and inside you at once, he wants to consume you and let you consume him until the only thing that is left is the desire to stay and the rest of the universe will fade, forgotten, into the background.
For a time it does, and all that exists is the heaving of your breath in the close space between your bodies, the feel of your sweat-slicked skin under his bare hands, the press and push of your joined hips. Mikey is almost disappointed when he feels the telltale flame of his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, stoked by the slide of his cock through your pussy, but you're close and trembling too and he can't stop, won't stop for anything.Ā
He forces his hand down your stomach and thumbs your clit again, more insistently than before; your spine crumples in on itself and you sob into his broad shoulder with your release, squeezing him impossibly tight; a wordless plea; come back, please, come back to me; promise you'll come back.
It's a moment before he realizes you're whispering it hoarsely, almost breathlessly, and he fights the clench of his throat to whisper back, I'm here, I promise; you are mine,
When the grip of your insides slows to a flutter instead of a pummeling squeeze and he is done throbbing and filling you with his seed, you hold him tight and tell him that you love him.
Mikey's resolve wavers, and he considers taking you with himābut you wince and your breath catches as he lowers you back to the bed, still inside you. You are too sore, too tired. He brushes sweaty hair from your forehead and longs to kiss your flushed skin.
"I have to go," he tells you, and you murmur formless words and nods with your eyes closed as he pulls back, pulls out. He draws the blanket over your spent body before he tucks himself away and reaches for his suit jacket. He's damp with both of your fluids but he doesn't mind at all.Ā
"I know," you say, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, watching as he fastens his belt, "I'll be brave," you say, and your voice does not waver.
His fingers brush your jaw, and you smile; his lover. And through you, the Bonten leader, too, knows strength.
Synopsis: Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is the strength to move forward despite it.
Or, Manjiro Sano doesn't know how to say goodbye before heading off to his job, so he promises to come back, instead.
Content Warnings: (mikey x f!reader) Fluff and Smut
āI have to go.ā
He says it while youāre both lying, supine and sated, in the darkness of the room. The air is close and warm, muggy with the lingering scent of sweat and sex - neither of you have bothered to move. For you, his arms are far more comfortable, and for him, these moments are far too precious to be wasted.
But he knows this canāt last.
āRight now?ā you ask, stretching slowly as you shift against him. āYou told me you had a job. You didnāt say when.ā The line of your abdomen peels away from his as you pushes yourself up on your hands. Itās too dark in here to see, but youās never needed light to see right through him. āDoes it have to be now?ā
He reaches out in the gloom and slides a hand down the outside of your arm. āYou know why.ā
You sigh, and he senses as you move away from him, sitting up with your back turned. āAll right,ā you say, but your voice is sullen, glum. He trails his fingers down your back, following the furrow of your spine until they catch on the scar, the great furrow that runs from the bottom of your ribs all the way around to your tailbone.
He could have lost you so easily, so many times. But this was a time when he came the closest, and while you are still healing, he will let no harm come to you. He will not even let harm come near your. And while it frustrates you, you accept it.
āI wonāt be long. I promise.ā
He feels your hair slide over his fingers as you turn your chin to your shoulder. You donāt say anything for a moment, then you draw in a deep breath, like youāre steeling yourself. You never like it when he leaves you alone in his penthouse, but this is the way things have to be.
This is the way of his life.
He feels, rather than sees, your smile. You take his hand in yours. āWant some help getting your suit on?ā
He doesnāt think much of the shake in your voice until later.
_
Itās slow going. First Mikey puts on his underclothes. He doesnāt need help with that, at least.
You are content to lay in the dark until he has his trousers on. With a touch at the control panel by the door, the automated blinds open, letting in the light from the early morning sun fill the room with a muted blue glow. You sit up, and Mikey takes a moment to admire the curves of your body.
He admires you for perhaps too long, for you raise your eyebrows and tilts your head with a smile he knows all too well. āHaving second thoughts?ā you ask, all innocence and light, and he presses his lips together in a tight, mirthless line albeit reluctantly.
You donāt see the reluctance, though he hopes you can feel it.
He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for his long sleeves. You help him guide it on his shoulders and onto his chest, buttoning him in without him needing to ask. Although your hands linger here and there you donāt make it obvious.
You help him with his necktie next. Your palms do linger there, pressed over his chest. He folds his hands over yours, allowing the touch as he tilts his head to look down at your face.
This is not the first time he has allowed you to help him. But it is the first time you have cried while doing so.
Mikey feels the air leave his lungs, a weight settling in his chest. You are reverent, careful always, but crying? Never.
āLove?ā he questions softly, taking your hands in his. āWhat is it?ā
āItās stupid,ā you sniff around your tears, shaking your head. āI just - Iām not used to this.ā
Your fingers squeeze his. āUsed to what?ā Mikey prompts.
āIām not sure if itās your fear or mine,ā you say, so quietly he has to lean in to hear it. āBut ever since I was hurt, every time you leave, I - Iām terrified.ā
His chest pangs again, and he draws you into his arms, the thought that he has caused your distress boiling in the pit of his stomach like acid. Mikey doesnāt just want to wipe away your tears; he wants to erase them from existence, eradicate the very possibility of them, burn down everything in Japan that could possibly cause your pain and make it so that you never have to cry about anything ever again.
It hurts. And the fact that he knows thatās impossible hurts most of all.
āI donāt want this,ā you whisper, and your hands, pressed against his chest, curl into fists. āI donāt want to be this - weak and weeping thing, holding you back - Iām sorry, I-ā
He grabs your wrists before you can take them away and cants his head to catch your gaze. Your face is red and flushed in splotches over your cheeks, moisture shining in tracks down your face and above your upper lip, which trembles as you fight your emotions. You are beautiful.
āYou are not weak,ā he tells you, his voice a gentle growl. āYou are brave.ā
āIām not, Mikey, Iām scared, for fuckās sake-ā
āBravery is not the absence of fear,ā he interrupts, needing it to be said, āIt is the strength to move forward despite it.ā
It takes a moment, but he sees your lips twitch, the edges of your eyes losing some of their drawn-tight tension. āWho taught you that saying?ā
āI donāt know,ā Mikey shrugs. āBut I said it. So you listen to it, now.ā
You are still naked, he realizes. Naked and half-sitting in his lap, straddling one of his thighs, he can feel the heat of you through the fabric of his trousers. He swallows heavily as you smile up at him, beatific, strong and vulnerable all at once - everything he wants, everything he needs, everything he loves but could never accept, would never allow himself to accept until now.
Your hands travel up his chest, and he shivers. He feels pressure, pressure and the soft, supple weight of you as you settle more fully in his lap. You lean in and press a kiss, sweet and reverential against his forehead, and his breath falls into a stutter for a moment.
āStay,ā you murmur, and Mikey opens his mouth to refute you until you add, āJust a little longer,ā and presses the full length of your body against his.
His hands find your hips of their own accord, and it feels as if heās worn divots there with the perfect fit of his fingers to your flesh. He rubs back and forth, drawing you in further. āJust a little longer,ā he repeats, his voice low and scratchy, and he doesnāt miss the shiver it sends through you.
You nod then, buries your face in his neck, your breath hot, the line of your nose pressed against his pulse through the fabric. He curls a hand around one cheek of your ass and lifts his leg, urging the flexing muscle of his upper thigh into the apex of yours. Youāre still messy from your earlier activities, slick with your combined fluids, and the thought of you seeping into the fabric of his trousers makes him harder than he already was, just from this.
As if sensing his thoughts - for all Mikey knows or minds, you might be - you slide one of your hands down and make room between your bodies to cup his length through the fabric. You heard his groan and he tones it down a bit, but your smile is one of triumph as if heād cried out much louder.
āNeed you, love,ā he whisper, and you sigh against his neck as his fingers drift from your hip over your stomach and finally dip between your legs. He finds your clitoris, already plush and swollen to the touch, with his thumb and offers short, sharp circling motions which you lean into with a gasp.
Your hand doesnāt stop moving, though, caressing him back and forth until heās almost at the point of being unable to stand it any longer - and then you stop, and the broken groan it tears from him has no hope of being unheard by you. It turns into a sigh of relief as you pop open the fastenings to his pants and draws him out of his underwear, your fingers gripping his length surely, confidently.
āAlready?ā you murmur against him, your chuckle lost to a squeak as he slides a single finger inside you and curls it. The passage of his digit is smoothed by your combined slick. It makes him - and you - shiver alike.
āAlready?ā he echoes, and your chuckle fills him with a fierce, aching joy, one he wants to make physical and pour into you until you feel it too. Mikey withdraws his hand at once and you gasp in protest, until he centers you over his lap and plants his feet against the floor for leverage to lift his hips up, the head of his cock brushing against the slick, pliant heat of your folds.
You circle him with your thighs, your knees on the bed on either side of him. You grab his shoulders in time for him to pull you down and slide up into you all at once. Your groan is an echo of his as he breaches you, thrusts home in one smooth, unhindered movement. You open around him, impossibly warm, impossibly tight, and the sensation of you enveloping him - with your cunt, with your legs, with your arms - makes Mikey gasp and shudder down to his bones.
You pull him close and he presses his forehead into the crook of your neck and shoulder. No matter how many times you both do this, it never fails to collapse him in on himself for a moment, utterly overcome by sensation and the simple intimacy of you allowing him into your body. He will never get used to this. He never wants to. He wants it to ruin him, to break him down into the small hollow pieces, to rebuild him in the shape of himself, but fuller .
It kills Mikey a little each time that he can never express any of it, never explain how it makes him feel, but you seem to understand regardless. As if he is not held together by determination when all he really wants to do is fall apart.
For you, he is strong. For what is strength but bravery, and what is bravery but the ability to move forward through fear?
There is fear in Mikeyās every touch. Fear of the unknown, of the forbidden, but it makes him treat it with the respect it is due. His hands sweep your back, gentle over your scars, over the deeper one in your side, but you barely notice. You arch into his hands, pliant and pliable, and your breasts are a delicious weight that fill his palms perfectly, your nipples pebbling between his fingers. You roll your hips in insistent impatience and Mikey is all too eager to oblige, lifting up into you with the clench of his thighs and abdomen, and it pulls a groan from his gut as he slides through the impassable grip of your fluttering walls.
Just a little longer, he tells himself as he falls back and thrusts up again, and again, guiding your body with his hands on your neck, your waist, your hips. He wants to be everywhere, all over you and inside you at once, he wants to consume you and let you consume him until the only thing that is left is the desire to stay and the rest of the universe will fade, forgotten, into the background.
For a time it does, and all that exists is the heaving of your breath in the close space between your bodies, the feel of your sweat-slicked skin under his bare hands, the press and push of your joined hips. Mikey is almost disappointed when he feels the telltale flame of his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, stoked by the slide of his cock through your pussy, but youāre close and trembling too and he canāt stop, wonāt stop for anything.
He forces his hand down your stomach and thumbs your clit again, more insistently than before; your spine crumples in on itself and you sob into his broad shoulders with your release, squeezing him impossibly tight; a wordless plea; come back, please, come back to me; promise youāll come back.
Itās a moment before he realizes youāre whispering it hoarsely, almost breathlessly, and he fights the clench of his throat to whisper back, Iām here, Iām here, I promise; you are mine.
When you both are still, when the grip of your insides slows to a flutter instead of a pummeling squeeze and he is done throbbing and filling you with his seed, you hold him tight and tells him that you love him.
Mikeyās resolve wavers, then, not for the first time, and he considers taking you with him - but you wince and your breath catch as he lowers your back to the bed, still inside you. You are too sore, too tired. He brushes sweaty hair from your forehead and longs to kiss your flushed skin.
āI have to go,ā he tells you, and you murmur formless words and nods with your eyes closed as he pulls back, pulls out. He draws the blanket over your spent body before he tucks himself away and reaches for his tie. Heās damp with you and him both but he doesnāt mind at all.
āI know,ā you say, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, watching as he fastens his belt, āIāll be brave,ā you say, and your voice does not waver.
His fingers brush your jaw, and you smile. And through you, the Bonten Leader, too, knows strength.
outlining Mikeyš„¹I hope yall can see my lineart cause its so thinš I love drawing Mikeyās hair even though itās a struggle sometimesšæThe anime does not do his hair justiceš
Iāll post the colored version in a few hrsš„°
Song used: Hibiki - Hiroyuki Sawano (from Bubble movie)
note: this chapter contains death, murder, decapitation, and torture. not thoroughly edited. please be cautious while reading. thank you again for being patient with this series! hopefully, i can update more frequently now that the semester has ended. thank you for your endless support and being with me in this journey. it means the world! please listen to this song while reading the last part.
[ š¢ ] ā f!reader x s. manjiro. royal!au. rebel!au. enemies-to-lovers. ooc!manjiro i write him the way i want to idc. romance. heavy angst. fluff. slow burn. character deaths. eventual smut. violence & slight gore. tragedy.
+ playlist. | masterlist.
CHAPTER XVIII: FOR POWER.
Under the round moon, the last bits of warmth had been devoured by the crisp wind. Similar to the cold once again setting over the land, your mind had turned foggy. You should have been in bed, cradling Manjiro until you fell peacefully asleep but the night was far from tranquil.
You couldnāt even sense a yawn coming. Wide awake like a rooster during dawn, you hugged yourself tightly while looking at the expanse of silver waters of the Jade Sea.
The horizon was dark, saved for a twinkle of lights from a faraway civilization. It was like a glimpse of a possibilityā to an entirely different life that you couldāve had if you hadnāt been born a noble.
A life in which you were not crowned queen. And yet you couldnāt imagine not being one.
Your fear continued to growl in your belly, a nauseating reminder of the doom hovering over your head. The doom that was Baji, captured in the dungeons of the Third Palace. Baji would certainly be subjected to torture until Manjiro squeezes everything about the Advari out of him.
Would it be an insult to doubt his resolve? Or was your doubt deeply rooted in the unbalance waving in front of your power?
All it would take was one word from Baji. One word that the reigning queen was part of the Advari and everyone, including Manjiro, would place you under intense scrutiny. It didnāt help that the assassin, the ever-doubtful Haruchiyo, had his eyes on you mere weeks ago.
You couldnāt let your guard down. Not when everyone around you wanted to see you bleed all while hating your blood.
If anything goes awry, you have the Kingās affection with you. However, you knew well enough that his love wouldnāt guarantee the crown staying on your head. You had to protect it yourself.
The visions you had in mind were also unsettling. All your choices had left you with a pounding heart and bitter tongue.
For power, what could you do?
Help Baji.
You could ask Nera for help. Prepare a potion for the guards. Poison them or fight them in hand-to-hand combat. Prepare a boat for Baji, one that he could use to escape. That would be the most plausible if not the most facile solution.
And yet a sick part of you disputed it working. You knew and had seen for yourself how guarded Bajiās prison was. To infiltrate and help him out was strenuous enough.
You took a deep breath, weighing your choices yet again. With it your dreams and your burning desire to reach for them.
Authority. The crown. The potential to help Elorus. To build anew its crooked policies and laws. To help the children, the poor, the people.
Powerā you need it to make everything come true.
And for power, what could you do?
Kill a friend. Kill Baji.
A quick stab through the heart. No one would ever know itās you. You only had to worry about the infiltration and your flight.
Shivers crawled up your spine at the thought. If it was guilt or something else entirely, you would know tomorrow night.
ā
Even an exiguous fire was a luxury they couldnāt afford. With growling bellies and shivering knees, Baji and his squadron sat close together under a massive tree in Caelfall. The wind was bearable, but the days of eating only scraps of bread and pushing it with nothing but mossy waters from the nearby pond had surely deteriorated their condition.
āWe will not survive another day,ā a croaked whisper echoed from Chifuyu.
Baji almost hadnāt recognized his voice by how shriveled it sounded. The spirited pitch of the manās tone that Baji had grown accustomed to had vanished. After all, how long had it been? How long had it been since he decided to break ties with Draken and Mitsuya, with Chifuyu and Kazutora eagerly following his lead, convinced that Baji would be a different leader? A better leader than Draken could ever be.
Was he better than him if his squadron had shrunk from hundreds to a dozen after one encounter with the Kingsguard? Was he better if his remaining men laid shivering with empty stomachs around him? A blade wouldnāt be the thing to end their lives but hunger.
āSpeak not of weakness, Chifuyu.ā Kazutoraās voice was no better. It had waned because of the cold and inanition. Out of the three, he was the only one who grew up in the Capital. Despite being unfamiliar with their current situation, Baji admired his fortitude. He must have missed the comfort of their shop.
āPerhaps it is time to reconcile with Drakenā¦ā There was hesitation in the statement, and yet Chifuyu continued, āOr better yet give up to our cause entirely.ā
Baji tilted his head up. The stars were clouded by the thick clouds. There was no moon to guide the night, only the never-ending cold and his comradesā dwindling spirits.
He opened his mouth, finding that even his throat was parched. Barely could he speak the words without gulping.
āPray, tell me why, Chifuyu,ā Baji muttered, dark eyes glued to the starless and even darker skies.
āBaji,ā Chifuyu echoed out his name without the zeal it once had, āYou werenāt there. They were cut down like pieces of meat by the Kingsguard. And their carcass still haunts me to this day.ā
He was aware of it. The Chifuyu who returned from the North was not the same man he had known for years. There were nights when he tried to sleep only to be jolted awake by nightmares about his comradesā deaths. He would frequently weep silently for the dead, while Baji pretended not to hear anything. He wouldnāt want to sully Chifuyuās pride.
In the darkest parts of his soul had bloomed a sick realization: he never wanted to hear Chifuyuās cries to protect his own pride. His pride in denying that it was his blunder that sent their men to their graves, now feasted upon by maggots.
He should have known that kings would challenge Abbadon itself for their queens.
It didnāt occur to him that a Sano would do it for an Aven.
What had changed?
āDo whatever your heart desires. Is that what you hope for me to say?ā Baji scoffed. āIt was not gold that this rebellion offered you, Chifuyu. All there is would be blood.ā
āOur comradesā blood, then?ā Chifuyu replied derisively as he stood on his feet. āWeāre losing this war, Baji.ā
āIf it is manpower you have derived that conclusion from, we can always recruitāā Chifuyu laughed this time. The sound was thorny, crawling under Bajiās skin and he stood up to face his friend. Baji hissed, āI have not any need for your weak heart, Chifuyu. Run back to your village with your tail between your legs. And when your family, including you, dies from starvation, you only have yourself to blame.ā
For someone who had been deprived of a decent meal for weeks, Chifuyuās punch held an unexpected power. Baji toppled to his feet, falling on his breeches to the ground as warm blood dripped from his split lip.
āChifuyu! Baji!ā Kazutora gritted, pulling the former with all the strength left in his body. āFighting will not fill our bellies! It will not help us at all!ā
āI will die eitherway, Baji! But at least I will die while holding my mother for the last time. Such joy you wouldnāt understand, for you have been left alone by your brother and father to fight a war they have already lost!ā
āChifuyu!ā Baji roared, anger and malice filling his veins. Before he knew it, he was charging at his friend like a wild animal. The three of them fell with a loud thud to the ground. Kazutora held onto Baji as he rained down punches on Chifuyuās face. He couldnāt stop the violence, not even when blood covered most of Chifuyuās nose and mouth.
āBaji!ā Kazutora bayed, pushing him off of Chifuyu until his fist found Kazutoraās jaw, as well.
Nobody dared intervene. The few remaining men had been aroused by the noise, but no one dared help Chifuyu. All of them knew Bajiās strength. There was a warrior bred inside the man. A warrior and fury of a small child that poverty cradled. A small child who was left alone after the uprising. A small child who had to live by eating bread infested with grub, crawling on his hands and knees to reach the Capital for help.
Chifuyu was right. He had never known the warmth of family since his brother and father were killed. And perhaps he was fighting their war, but it was the greatest path life could open for him. He would avenge their deaths, honor their pride, and see a forgiving Elorus that they envisioned.
āYou know nothing, Chifuyu! You knowāā Baji yelled when a stabbing pain suddenly enveloped his arm. The throb was too tormenting to ignore. Was it Kazutora? Was it one of his men? But they were as startled as him.
From one of the trees surrounding Caelfall, with feverish eyes, he saw a figure of a man approaching. Baji understood in a heartbeat that whoever it was, they couldnāt be an ally.
āWeāre under attack!ā Kazutora howled, having to be the only one in the right mind to conduct himself. āChifuyu! Chifuyu!ā He knelt beside the man, hauling Chifuyuās whole weight on his shoulders.
Daggers, swords, and what was left of their jagged weapons had been raised for defense.
Baji spat on the ground, inhaling deeply before tugging the star-shaped weapon from his skin. Blood poured out of the open wound like a stream.
Assassinās weapon. He had seen it before.
āKazutora, run. I will handle this alone.ā Baji spun both his daggers in his hand, fixing his stance while ignoring the throb of his shoulder.
āIām not leaving you alone here,ā his friend replied quietly, āThereās another behind us, Baji.ā
āThe maggots are fighting.ā The voice of the mysterious man was an appalling paradox to the cold air surrounding them. It sounded amused, hungry for a bloodbath. āHow interesting.ā
Baji screwed up his eyes. āAnd here I infer that assassins spurn being the center of attention.ā
āAye, we do,ā the unknown man replied, his tone like smoke above the ashes, āBut I want my face to be the last thing you see before I send you fuckers to hell. Tonight, you are all dogmeat.ā
His sharp eyes twitched once. No matter how slighting the claim was, Baji knew by the atmosphere alone that this fight could cost him his own life. He had never fought an assassin before and his fighting skills differ from that of a panther, to which he compared the man before him.
By the skin of oneās teeth, he dodged another sharp blade of the assassinās weapon but it knocked him backward, back pressing against Kazutoraās. Around them, the remaining men fell to the hard ground as the other assassin began the dance of death.
Baji had to believe that there was hope. He had to believe that despite how incapacitated they were, they could steal the upper hand against these assassins. He had to because there was no other choice left.
āWe willā¦ not die hereā¦ā Chifuyu slurred as he grappled for his dagger with bloodied hands. āRight, Baji?ā
Their backs were pressed up on each other, as though that would serve as a shield to the coming doom. It was three against two but the odds were not on their side.
Baji puffed deep breaths, fanning the cracked and dried skin on his lips.
āYes, we will not,ā he whispered into the air, not expecting the words to cut deep. Perhaps because he knew it was a lie.
Better a lie than the acceptance of defeat regardless of how inevitable it looked. Better a lie than admitting they were going to die in Caelfall, with their years of fighting soaking in the snow as blood. Because lie provided more comfort than death could ever be.
The putrid smell of piss, sweat, and something that would turn oneās stomach upside down sip into Bajiās nose. It stung his eyes the moment he peeled them open into a dark and cold cell. Wounds adorned every corner of his body, muscles burning from within, with brittle and broken bones that he knew couldnāt support his weight any longer.
There was nothing inside the cell. The only source of light was from a little aperture on the door, and even that wasnāt reliable. Inside, it would be impossible to discern the time. There was only darkness, the putrid smell, and the cold.
How long had he been here?
Covered by thick, grimy walls, Bajiās senses were completely lost to him. He couldnāt move a limb from the wounds the assassin dressed him with. And even if he was capable, there was no moving from the shackles binding his hands and feet.
Everything about him ached. Even his pride screamed at himā screamed every bad decision he had made that led him here inside this unforgiving prison lost to memory.
Perhaps he shouldāve not gone separate ways with Draken. Perhaps he shouldnāt have dragged Kazutora and Chifuyu with his misery and hunger for revenge. But what would his regrets serve him? Nothing. All had been done, all had happened.
The end was nigh. Miracles hadnāt been on his side a long time ago. There was no turning back the time, and so heād carry each painful regret to the other side.
Baji laid out joyful memories before him so he wouldnāt forget. The laughter of his comrades and everything that happened over the course of years he had been part of the Advari. Perhaps his heart ached for those memories. Perhaps he ached for the last bit of warmth the rebellion wrapped him with.
Slowly, Baji closed his eyes again, a strangled breath resonating from him before the iron bars creaked, signaling an arrival. Somebody had thrown a bucket of water all over him. It was deathly cold that Baji could not even fight the shiver that shook him awake.
He fluttered his eyes open, thick lashes damped with water. And it was the King before him, wearing his opulent clothes and standing in all his glory, looking down at Baji with shadowed eyes.
āBaji Keisuke,ā the King of Elorus strung out coldly, āIt is you.ā
He wondered how he looked in the eyes of someone who had a whole country dancing in his palms. Baji did not pity himself, no. Despite everything, he had gone down with a fight. It was merely a thought that plagued his mind every time: How do they look in the eyes of royals?
āAye, Your Majesty,ā Baji replied dryly, shifting his gaze to the familiar man standing behind the King. The assassin. It took all in him not to carelessly spend the last bit of strength to attack. Even the fact that he had gravely wounded the assassin did not bring him solace.
āI see that you possess reverence no matter how scant it is,ā the King spoke, crouching before Baji so they were eye to eye. āI will not complicate your predicament any longer. You do understand your fate, donāt you?ā
Baji raised his shackled wrists to scratch his cheek. āYou are not talking to a little boy, Your Majesty. In all honesty, I need not your reminder. Send me to the Reaper and let us all move on, shall we?ā
āYou impertinent foolāā The assassin attempted to unsheath his sword but was halted when the King raised a finger.
āStand back, Haruchiyo,ā he bit out, āYour wounds have not healed yet.ā
Baji simpered. āIt is Haruchiyo, then? How was the wound Iāve given you? It is almost a certain kill but your dodging skills are impeccableāā
āBaji Keisuke, I will offer you freedom only if you decide to be truthful,ā the King once again cut through the conversation, ātell me all I need to know about the Advari. You will be pardoned and compensated suitably, albeit exiled to another land as long as you breathe. If you wish to do otherwise, it is the Reaper for you.ā
Pardoned? Compensated? Exiled? Baji looked at the King as if he was struck by lightning before an acerbic chuckle shook his shoulders. āYour Majesty, how many of my comrades have you captured? And how many of them have you pardoned?ā Baji asked through his satirical smile. The Kingās face turned grim. āTreachery is worse than death. Never will I betray my comrades for freedom.ā
The weight of hypocrisy settled on Bajiās chest. He knew what he had done to Draken and the rest of the Advari. However, he refused to give the King the answers he hankered for. It didnāt matter how pathetic it was as long as he stood his last ground.
The Kingās jaw twitched before he straightened and stood up. Perhaps he recognized in Bajiās eyes the similar determination possessed by himself. And if that was truly it, the King mustāve understood that bribing Baji was no mere feat.
āMy patience is not forever, Baji Keisuke. You must know by now that your days here are numbered.ā The King whirled, turning his back on Baji. He made his way to the iron doors, his cape dancing and following every imposing step.
āKeeping me alive is weakness, Your Majesty.ā Baji fixed his eyes on the Kingās back. His head throbbed as his whole body, but nothing was penetrating his mind but the need to cause more chaos. It pumped vehement blood in his veins until numbness consumed him. āAlthough it is not very surprising. I guess it runs in the blood: your mother had hardly put up a fight when I killed her.ā
Bajiās tooth flew away as blood filled his mouth. It took him a moment to realize that the King had kicked him across the head. He had gone dizzy, eyes spinning before another kick sent him flying to the other side of the begrimed cell. He spat blood on the ground, his manacles tugging at his wrists painfully. Baji tried to look up, but dirt had clouded his eyes. Eyes throbbing with blotches dimming his vision, Baji could only see the Kingās shape. There were no words uttered: the King did not scream in agony. Or perhaps Bajiās hearing had been impaired by the assault.
āBring it over here,ā the King commanded coldly.
It was not what Baji expected to hear. He was unbelievably composed for his circumstance. If anything, it was Haruchiyo who would kill Baji with his eyes alone. His sword had been fully unsheathed before taking a straw pouch from the sentry outside.
Bajiās heart almost lurched outside his chest. The pouch was bloodied.
āNo.ā He gulped down saliva, trying to moisten his parched throat. Tears streaked Bajiās cheeks in rivulets. āNo!ā Baji roared, kneeling and yelling the same word over and over. Over and over until Kazutora and Chifuyuās heads were displayed before him. āNo! Kazutora! Chifuyu!ā
His heart had been torn apart.
āBlind him,ā the King commanded once again, looking down at Baji with a wicked satisfaction eddying in his eyes, āI want this to be the last thing heāll ever see.ā
ā
How does one become an unforgettable queen?
You stared at your reflection in the mirror, playing with the dagger in your hand. Its blade captured the moonlight, illuminating and reflecting on your face with its sharp shadows.
Tonight would be the night. As you sit here ruminating about a million things, Baji could have already spat out the truth to Manjiro. And all your dreams, all the power that you currently hold would slip from your hands like ashes.
You would die by a thousand cuts first before youād witness that day.
Your limbs suddenly went cold when the door creaked, immediately grappling for the armoire to throw your dagger into. Pushing your chest out to face the intruder, you whirled to see the King sauntering toward you. Dragging his feet would be a better description, regardless of how unbecoming it sounded.
āMy love, whatāā
Manjiro dragged his whole weight on your body, causing you to sit back down before the mirror, with him kneeling and laying his head onto your lap.
You cast down a worried look at him. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the beat of his heart against your knee. Clueless as to what had caused such an occurrence, you ran a hand through his dark hair instead.
āWeāve gone down to the dungeon,ā he whispered amidst the silence.
Now, it was your heart running miles inside your ribcage. We? Was he with Haruchiyo? What did they do to Baji? It would seem like he kept his mouth shut but you knew better than to be optimistic.
āWhatā¦ what did you do?ā You struggled to sound disinterested but your words faltered. You couldnāt bring yourself to imagine what horrors Baji mustāve gone through today. He was a valuable prisoner. Manjiro would do anything to squeeze answers from him.
Manjiro tilted his head up. The unshed tears coating his onyx eyes like clear waters strangled your throat with thorns. He looked so broken.
You caught his face with your hands, rubbing his cheeks to provide what little warmth you could offer him.
āIām afraid that Iām becoming more and more like my father,ā he confessed with a shattered expression. āI donāt want to be like him.ā
āHow could you say that? Youāre nothing like him. Youāll never be like him,ā you zealously replied.
āYou donāt understand.ā Manjiro bolted to his feet. He was trembling as he confessed, āIāve done something horrible. Baji Keisukeā heā¦ he killed my mother.ā
āHeā¦ā You took repeated gulps, eyes heating up to the sides. āHe killed your mother?ā
āHe did.ā His eyes remained glassy while looking at you. āAnd no matter my effort, I couldnāt forget the look on his face.ā
You wanted to weep there and there. Manjiro sounded so far away. For months since the late queenās death, you have had your own suspicions. But the arrival of truth didnāt diminish the mortification cloaking you.
What did he do to Baji? You wanted to fold in agony or run away just so you wouldnāt hear a thing heād say.
āWhat is it?ā You blinked slowly and puffed out deep breaths, careful not to spill a single tear.
He looked so torn when he responded, āThe look on his face was pure agony. But it is not his face that makes me feel this way: it is the satisfaction that Iāve felt from it. It is wicked and vileā¦ and I loved it so much.ā
ā
The night bled in pure silence around the kingdom of Elorus. Outside the tall gates of the Palaces, the wind howled, carrying with it flecks of snowflakes that would pile up on rooftops and windows by dawn.
Heavy were your bones as you silently slid off your nightgown to change into some gear and helmet similar to that of a sentryās garment. The torch burned beside you, providing light into the small space down the secret pathway Manjiro had shown you.
It was only yesterday when you escaped through this pathway to luxuriate yourself with a simple night walking. Now, you would use this pathway for your gain.
Manjiroās words circled your head like furious wasps. He had not explicitly told you what he did, but you knew to expect the worst inside Bajiās prison if ever you could descend. This plan felt loose at the edges, tied only by your will to keep your identity as a former Advari in the shadows as long as you breathe. It was horrifying to realize that youād go through different lengths to protect your power and the happiness that you currently harbor.
There were several daggers strapped to your waist and hip. Yesterday, you had made your own investigation about the sentries guarding the prison. They swap places after the eighth bell in the evening and would change again after the second bell past the twelfth. Based on your precise calculations, you have enough time before the second bell.
At the thought, you tried to blink back tears. Were there any choices left?
Despite your heavy clothing, the brutal cold still nipped at your skin to the Third Palace. Only sentries guarded the place, but their enthusiasm had been doused by the weather. They yawned, helmets thudding against the walls as they fought the urge to doze off. Nonetheless, they inclined their head in your direction as you passed by the main prison gates.
However, a burdensome feeling suddenly filled your chest with every step closer to Bajiās prison. It was the most isolated part of the Third Palace, and only notorious criminals were kept inside to suffer severe physical and mental torture from the Kingsguard and perhaps the assassin, as well.
Where were they, if that was the case? The pathways were empty but the gates were open. Did something happen that required the sentriesā attention?
You tried to brush it off and proceeded effortlessly inside and down the steps. And yet another burden pressed in on your chest when you noticed that some sentries had been knocked out cold in the corners with empty bottles in their hands.
Something was definitely amiss.
Swiftly, you equipped your daggers in both hands and walked on the muddy puddles with caution. Some of the prisoners were asleep and some were murmuring in agony. They remained incognizant of the dozing sentries outside their cell.
At last, Bajiās prison came into view. But your heart dropped and your blood ran cold upon noticing that the iron doors were off the latch.
āBaji,ā you gasped, sprinting towards the cell just for your knees to give up at the sight that greeted you.
Blood. Blood was pooling around Bajiās body as he helplessly pressed a hand on a wound below his rib. Each breath he took sounded agonizing. As though he was only borrowing the air from his lungs.
āBajiā¦ā you sobbed, because that was not the end of it.
Bajiās eyes were covered with a bloodied linen as well. He was covered with a thousand cuts and wounds and he wasā¦ blind.
You forgot the reason for your descent when you knelt beside him and cradled him in your arms. He struggled to flinch away, but his strength was only an illusion now. He was bleeding to death and it pierced your heart with a spear.
āBaji, it is I,ā you cried, pushing back the strands of hair away from his face, āit is I.ā
He coughed out blood before speaking your name. āIs that really you?ā
āYes,ā you murmured, hot tears drenching your cheeks. āBaji, who did this to you?ā Every time you blink, heavy and salty tears rolled down your face. They were uncontrollable. āWho did this to you?ā
āHeā¦ā Baji flashed you a bright grin, his teeth stained with his blood. āWorryā¦ notā¦ā
āTell me!ā you hissed, hugging him closer as your heart ached and bled, ātell me, Baji!ā
āIā¦ I apologizeā¦ā He shuddered with another fit of coughs. āForā¦ everythingā¦ā
You pressed your cheek on his with your sobs becoming more erratic and unstoppable. āPleaseā¦ tell me! Tell me, Baji!ā
āYbarraā¦ did thisā¦ā he confessed through his cries, holding your hand tightly with his calloused one. āHeāsā¦ traitorā¦ he saidā¦ heād help me kill the Kingā¦ā
Ybarra? You knew no one that goes by the name.
Baji tightened his hold. āHe saidā¦ heās doing itā¦ for Idrarean.ā
When he sobbed, your cries had turned into mewling. You bit your trembling lip, fighting to death to keep the sounds from echoing. The tears that had slipped from the linen covering his eyes were stained by blood. And that alone was enough to break you into smithereens.
Because you knew, deep inside your heart, who Ybarra was. He did this. And youād kill him for it.
āI donātā¦ want to dieā¦ā Baji whispered while crying, āI donātā¦ want to die.ā
āBajiā¦ā you wailed, wiping the bloody tears from his cheeks and cradling him closer to you again. Chin propped up on his forehead, you gritted your teeth as unstoppable tears remained streaming down your face. āIād kill them all. I swear it.ā
You wanted to scream in unimaginable anguish but all you could do was sit with your friend. You sat and cried until his hold loosened, his breathing stopped, and his heart ceased beating.
Hi ate! I know your request are close for the tokyo rev x jjk but can i request a ending for it? It's on hina and takemichi's wedding and toman lives happily ever after with reader? It's okay if you dont do it though
scarlet witch! fushiguro! reader at hinata and takemichi's wedding
jujutsu kaisen x reader x tokyo revengers
masterlist of the series
ā°ā¤ CW(s): possible spoilers for tokyo revengers, major themes of fluff, nobody dies au kasi tama na sa angst di q na kinakaya mga bhie emz
ā°ā¤ PAIRING(s): mikey x reader, takemichi x hinata, emma x draken, yuzuha x mitsuya, platonic! toman x reader
hello po! thank you so much for requesting and for being patient :D oh to have a good ending like this instead of all those deaths :( anyway, enjoy reading po ā”
everything had finally come together. everyone was happy, pursuing their dreams and living their best lives, and the future was secure. baji, kazutora, and chifuyu own a pet shop together, mistuya is a designer, pah and peh have a business, the kawata twins have expanded their little ramen shop into a restaurant, and you and mikey have remained strong together, as have emma and draken.
and what about takemichi and hinata? today was their wedding day, and you, along with yuzuha and senju, were bridesmaids because emma was hinata's maid of honor. the wedding was both spectacular and emotional. when the newlyweds kissed, you couldn't help but smile and applaud along with the guests. you knew how much takemichi dreamt of this day in particular; to marry and spend his life with the girl he loved the most.
you remembered the day takemichi told you he was a time leaper and that the future was bleak. he was shaking and sobbing, and you couldn't help but sympathize with him while admiring his honesty and faith in you. it's heartbreaking to see people you care about die or go astray, but that was before you arrived, and takemichi was immensely thankful. you were not only understanding, but you also greatly aided him. toman had finally found happiness, and now takemichi had as well.
looking back, there had been many ups and downs. there was the fight between toman and moebius, toman and valhalla, and so on, including mishaps in the jujutsu world that consisted of itadori yuuji's execution, putting an end to kenjaku's schemes and stopping him and his curse user comrades. it was a rollercoaster ride, but life isn't perfect. that's how it's supposed to be. there were tears shed and blood drawn, but all of the sacrifices and efforts you and everyone had put were worthwhile.
if it hadn't been for those occurances, you and mikey wouldn't be standing here right now.
"[name]-chan? [name]-chan?"
you lifted your head as you looked up to see mikey, whose hair had been dyed black and cut shorter. he was dressed in a suit and tie that matched your dress, and god did he look handsome as hell. whoops, calm yourself now.
"yes?" as you smiled, you blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts.
"they're all calling the girls to the center, and hina-chan is going to toss the bouquet," mikey explained, reaching a hand out to your face and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "are you all right?"
"it's nothing, i'm just happy. sorry to worry you, hun." you shook your head at mikey before leaning in to kiss his cheek, smiling and winking as his eyes widened as you stood up from your seat to walk to the center of the venue.
you joined emma, yuzuha, and senju in the crowd of ladies waiting for hinata's flower bouquet toss, conversing with them and hyping hinata up as she prepared to toss the bouquet in her hands. mikey stood back with draken, mitsuya, baji, and pah, the founding members of toman, as well as takemichi and chifuyu.
"so, who do you think will get the bouquet and be the next lucky bride?" chifuyu asked, smiling.
"emma, perhaps," mikey smirked as he looked at draken, whose face had turned red.
"o-oh yeah? well, i say it'll be [name]-chan," draken retorted, turning the tables on mikey, who simply laughed with his arms folded across his chest, unfazed.
"but what if senju gets it?" takemichi asked, drawing a laugh from baji.
"her brothers will definitely freak out," baji said, knowing how takeomi and haruchiyo would react to their little sister catching the bouquet and the prospect of her marrying next.
"the possibility of hakkai's sister getting it remains," pah said, jabbing his elbow into mitsuya's arm, causing him to nearly stumble and exclaim, "hey!"
hinata had started the bouquet toss while toman was messing with each other. she threw the flowers into the air in three counts, and while the girls ran after it, trying to catch it, you simply stood there, laughing, until it flew straight into your face, and then into your arms.
"AND WE HAVE OUR LUCKY GIRL!" the host of the event announced.
wait, what? what did he just say-
"[NAME]-CHAN CAUGHT THE BOUQUET!!" emma squealed with delight as yuzuha, senju, hinata, and the other girls applauded and cheered to congratulate her.
your mouth hung open as you clutched the bouquet in your hands, your eyes widening and taking in the realization. "oh my god."
you caught the bouquet.
the bride's flowers, which can only mean one thingāyou were next, and honestly, you were surprised yourself. you weren't using a probability hex or any sort of witchcraft at all, and yet here you were. lady of luck was on your side today.
you slowly raised your head from the crowd to see mikey looking at you with such love and adoration in his eyes. even though he had a slight flush across his cheekbones, he smiled despite his friends elbowing and teasing him.
"congratulations, [name]-chan!" as emma, yuzuha, and senju approached you, hinata ran up to you and embraced you.
"you purposely threw the bouquet at me. didn't you, hina-chan?" you raised your brow, trying to contain your amusement and laughter.
"excuse me? i had my eyes closed!" hinata gasped, pretending to be offended.
"it can only mean one thing, [name]-chan. it's fate." senju exclaimed, hands on her hips, before motioning over your bouquet.
"what's meant to be, is really meant to be~" yuzuha added, rolling the words out in a singalong tone of voice as she wiggled her brows up and down at you.
firmly holding the bouquet this time, you sauntered towards your boyfriend, who had left his friends and embraced you in his arms.
"i caught the bouquet somehow." you giggled, returning mikey's loving embrace.
"my lucky girl." mikey chuckled softly, gently pulling away from you to kiss your forehead.
"you know what this means, right?" you teased, looking up at him. "my dad is going to freak out when he finds out," you thought as you closed your eyes and shook your head, picturing gojo's reaction.
"he definitely will," mikey laughed, and you eventually did as well.
your boyfriend may not say it out loud, but as you and him watched takemichi and hinata walk down the aisle and exchange vows, mikey immediately thought of you and fervently wished and dreamed of marrying you as well. marriage was something mikey had in mind for quite some time now, now that the two of you were of right age.
of course, mikey will have to deal with gojo, as well as your loved ones and family figures who were just as protective as he was, but that's the least of his worries. he is already set on marrying you. he's prepared to face them, as well as anyone and everything. that's how much he loves you and it looks like he will be tying the knot with you sooner than expected.
after all, the necklace and earrings you were wearing weren't the only things he bought you for this occasion.
"oi, mikey-kun! [name]-san!"
when the two of you looked up, takemichi was motioning you and mikey to gather in front of the cameraman.
"coming!" mikey yelled back before turning to face you and extending his arm. "come on, let's join the others for the picture taking."
"we shall." you locked your arm around his, giggling softly, before joining newlyweds and the entirety of toman.
it was a happy ever after for toman, takemichi and hinata, draken and emma, and, of course, you and mikey.
i'm sure you already know what's going to be the second part of this happy ever after š
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