a/n: @bakers97 is a really lovely person who always has really lovely ideas for requests, and i don’t write my masamubae enough, so here’s number 24 - “am i ever going to see you again?”
Contrary to what many people may believe, she never stopped hating war.
She hates it when it whispers behind their backs, she hates it when it invades their villages — she hates it no matter what it does, and prays for the day that it will end, and she may find some peace in her heart. She wonders if Lord Masamune even remembers a time before he had war councils every day, and spent his evenings poring over books about strategy and new European weaponry. It would be a wonder, if he could — even she cannot seem to remember a day without war; war-talk, rumors, boys in her village and their fathers enlisting in armies to fight.
She acknowledges, like anyone else, that there can be no light without darkness. But still she hates war.
She hates it when it leaves her trembling in Lord Masamune’s arms the night before he is to leave on a campaign, and he spends his time reassuring her with gentle touches and gentler words when he should be smiling over being at home. The want to be happy that he is here is present, so much so that it could suffocate her for all the joy she feels — but, at the same time, she is stifled by a fear so great she can’t help but quake at its presence.
This night together could be their last. She may never see him again, and then what would she do? There is no home for her without him — no home in which she could be truly happy; she could never look at the stars again without ripping her own heart into pieces.
“Don’t be frightened,” he murmurs, softly, and she hears in his voice the empathy, the pain. He, too, hates war — it took his father from him like it took hers, and there is no greater pain than the loss of one who loved you unconditionally.
The thought makes her shudder, and she curls in closer to him, listening carefully to his heartbeat and clutching the front of his night clothes as tightly as she is able, until her knuckles turn stark white.
“I am,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, but I am. I—I’m so afraid, I keep—I keep wondering if…” She can barely think the words, it hurts so much to imagine, like someone has stabbed a knife into her heart and is twisting, twisting, twisting.
She looks up into his eyes, despite the tears welling in hers, and forces herself to be honest. He deserves her honesty, if she can offer him nothing else tonight.
“Am I ever going to see you again?” She asks, barely audible above the tears closing her throat up tight, and Lord Masamune’s eyes widen.
“Don’t cry,” he says, kissing away the tears on her cheeks until she has calmed herself enough to look him in the eyes again.
They flash, brilliant as stars, one blue and one green, and she holds her breath.
“I will always return to you,” he says, and there’s a certainty in his gaze and in his voice that drain the fear from her limbs, that settles her heart like the sea after a storm.
She sniffs away the last of her tears, and smiles up at him, feeling stronger than she had moments before, and watches as his smile blooms in return.
“Then I will wait for you, Milord. Always.”
His eyes — his stunning, wonderful eyes — leave her breathless; she wonders if the same devotion shows in hers, she hopes so. He leans down, so their noses brush together, as if asking for permission to kiss her, and they both smile because it feels so natural to do so whenever they’re together.
She gives her permission by way of closing the gap between them, kissing him.
There is one thing, she thinks, that she cannot hate about war — and that is that, despite all it has done to her, all it has taken away, it is a thread of fate that has led her to his side. That, she can never regret.
As he kisses her again, so sweet she feels as if she’s melting, she hates war just a little bit less.
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a/n: @kanarenee requested my ultimate bias (*excited screeching*) for number 53 from this list - “if you kill them, you’d better kill me too, because otherwise i’m going to kill you” which was a really fun one to work with!!
He knows that his reputation is as a demon who eats human hearts in his spare time and kills for sport. Despite these being baseless rumors, there is a reason he has been dubbed the One-Eyed Dragon — the men at the end of his sword, it seems, are just beginning to understand this.
Dragons are said to protect their great hordes of treasure. Demons are said to have no mercy. These men, in attacking those most precious to him in the hopes of using them against him, have brought out both of these in him; if they wished to see the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu, with all hell raised behind him, then they may consider their wish granted.
“If you kill them,” he hisses, slowly, and the men either shrink away or he rises to his fullest glory, glaring down at them like the scum that they are, kidnapping a woman and child and proclaiming it victory.
“Then you had best kill me, too. Because, otherwise, I am going to kill you.” The hands with which the would-be assassins hold their blades tremble, and both his little brother and his greatest love meet his eye — and there is no more time for rationalizing, there is only time for action.
These men, obviously, paid much too much attention to the ‘One-Eyed’ portion of his nickname, and therefore must have overlooked the ‘Dragon’ associated with him. He dispatches them so easily it’s almost pitiful, and when Shigezane and Kojuro arrive, he merely turns his back on the culprits, and leaves them to his most trusted companions.
Misaki holds Kojirou against her side, and she only lets go of him to rush to his side, inspecting Masamune for wounds. Her concern is touching, and all the rage that had swelled within him suddenly dies, leaving him neither beast nor demon, but simply a man. He takes her into his arms, feeling the way her body trembles as she sighs.
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says, and he almost wants to laugh — he was never the one in danger to begin with; those who seek to hurt her are the only ones who should fear. He pulls away from her, cupping her cheek for a moment and allowing himself to bask in the warmth of her smile before kneeling to look at his brother, expression serious.
“Did they hurt you?” He asks, inspecting his brother. Green eyes, so much like his own good eye, squint with his smile.
“Like they could! Nobody could hurt me when you’re protecting me!” He feels his heart ache sweetly in his chest, and he pulls his younger brother into a hug. Shigezane approaches him, a sort of lightness in his step that is always present when the battle has been won.
“Come on, kid,” he says, ruffling Kojirou’s hair as Masamune releases him. “Time to take you home. No doubt your mother is worried sick about you.” Masamune catches the flash in Shigezane’s eyes as he speaks of Yoshihime, the way Misaki’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, but his cheerful tone does not change. His brother fixes him with one last smile.
“Thank you,” he says, sounding as if he had never really been afraid at all. His gaze shifts upward to Misaki, the grin still fixed firmly on his face.
“Both of you!” Shigezane then leads him down the hall and out of sight. Masamune stands, and she slips her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. He feels the tension leave his shoulders, a sigh escaping him as they stand alone in the garden.
“You’re alright?” He asks, as if he hadn’t been warily glancing at her since the whole ordeal started, and she smiles gently up at him, squeezing his hand.
“Thanks to you, Lord Masamune.” His heart swells at the affection with which she says his name, and he reaches out to cup her cheek with his hand, leading her lips to his.
There are those who would call him a demon, and with them he would find himself commonly in disagreement. But, to those who call him a dragon, he thinks he would have to concede — after all, he has the most precious treasure in all the world to protect, and he will do so with all the fierceness afforded to him.
a/n: requested by the amazing @jemchew who gave me choice of lord with the prompt “i’ve been waiting my whole life for you” so here it is. for anyone who’s interested, i did this prompt for saizo a little while back.
The night is quiet between them, a silence that envelopes and anchors the world on the small veranda outside his chambers. Her hands rest in her lap, her gaze on the moon — just barely there, another night and there will be none of it left, nothing but stars in its place — and he finds himself reach to twine his fingers with hers almost unconsciously.
There was a time, not so long ago, when she might have flinched at the sudden contact. Before that, he would have drawn his sword had anyone attempted to sit as close to him as she does, legs touching, sleeves rustling together at the slightest movement. But their pasts have converged, tributaries into a river of the purest affection he can imagine in their present and future.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She turns to smile at him, and the stars twinkle in her eyes, her smile is the crescent moon she had been admiring. He thinks he would rather look at her than the sky — she takes all its elements and makes them lovelier, full of life and warmth.
“It is,” he agrees, smile curving to parallel hers. He reaches up to cup her cheek, pulling close so their noses touch before he kisses her. It’s soft and it’s sweet — she tastes like edamame and sugar, and she rests her hand on his shoulder to lean closer. When she opens her eyes to look at him, the warmth he finds there surprises him, still. How he came to love her so much, to love anyone so much, and have that love reciprocated, he still can’t bring himself to understand — but he thanks every star in the sky for what he’s been given and has the ability to give.
“I love you, Lord Masamune,” she says, because she’s always been the braver of them, she’s always been the first. He blushes, kisses her again, overwhelmed and overcome, and when her breath hitches as they part he whispers, reverent,
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”
The stars in her eyes seem to expand, blurring, her smile splitting across her face to blind him, and he kisses away her tears as they fall, glad to hear her laugh as the gentle brush of his lips tickles her cheeks.
Any embarrassment he may have felt is swept away in the rolling waves of her affection as she catches his lips with her own, pulling him so close he can’t think beyond her.
“I’ve been waiting for you, too, Milord,” she whispers, like a little secret, and he somehow loves her more in that moment than he did before — a reminder that nothing is impossible when it comes to her, that limits are nonexistent. They could reach the stars he wished on as a child if they tried hard enough, he has no doubts; it isn’t in her nature to give up, and it isn’t in his to deny her. He presses his forehead to hers, making small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand, and they meet each other smile for smile, breath for breath.
And they both say it, wordlessly, time and time again,
I love you. More than anything in the world, I love you.
That night, when they retire, he holds her as she sleeps and thanks every star in the sky that they found each other.
“You’ll never be alone again,” he swears, soft so she doesn’t wake, and as he utters the words he thinks he sees her smile in the dark — and it’s enough, so much more than enough, he thinks, and falls asleep with a smile to match her own.
