A Munto Fanfiction: You © RedWingedAngel002
Disclaimer: Munto; Sora o Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani
Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort, and Romance
Summary: A nightmare. It must have been.
A/N: This was supposed to be angsty fluff, but became a bit citrusy in the second-half (T+), so discretion is advised. I might as well compile all of my favorite genres to get back into writing. ¬ω¬
Songs: Little House by: Amanda Seyfried, Heart On by: Celldweller, Middle of the Night by: Elley Duhé, Soldier by: Fleurie, Dreams by: Gabrielle Aplin, Until I Bleed Out by: the Weekend
Japanese Index:
None.
"Talking."
'Thinking.'
Memories/Flashbacks.
One-shot: Her Image
"-memi." The shake at her shoulder insisted. "Yumemi…!"
With a jolt, she focused on the figure looming overhead. Twin ingots reflected bright in the night.
"Munto?"
It took her several moments to gain her bearings.
"Munto," she sat up when noticing his ragged breathing; he was completely frazzled. There was a slight sheen on his bronze skin from the moonbeams filtering through gossamer peeks. Her hand came to his in worry. "Are you okay?"
"I, uh…" Realization struck and his touch fled. "I wanted to check on you. You were…"
Her gaze stayed at the haunted look in his eye. A nightmare. It must have been.
"Apologies." Amber flickered down to her lightly clad figure and then to his shuffling feet. He folded into himself in shame. "This is inappropriate. I should not be—"
"Here," she offered under the sheet. "Until you've calm down."
"I am—"
A firmer pat settled his oncoming argument.
He laid rigid until the bed creaked still.
"You don't have to talk about it," she started, "But you can, with me, if you want to."
His swallow echoed in the dark room.
"I know," he released a shaken breath.
Yumemi twisted her position, inching close, and gently placed a hand on his clammy shoulder. The twine muscle flinched underneath.
This was not a first time occurrence; it was something he often handled on his own. She knew to take small, patient steps.
Another inhale. Her heart wept in empathy.
Heart…
"Hey, scooch over." She wheeled above him, paused to whip the hair out of her eyes, and huffed, "Wait, hold on."
He was stiff as a board, the bridge of his nose likely colored by the strain in his voice.
"Yume—"
"Trust me."
She understood where the context of her actions was traveling. They were not ready for that, and not in a situation so vulnerable.
Rolling on his right, opposite of where she was prior, she kicked her feet to fluff for her entry. Once settled, she patted his cheek in reassurance and snaked an arm beneath his neck. He followed her silent instruction until an elfin ear was at the heart of her pulse.
"There. Better? You don't have anything to worry about. I'm all right, see?"
Another stilted nod.
"And you don't have to come here just for a bad dream. It can get lonely, too."
He scoffed an airy chuckle. Progress!
Slim fingers weaved through his red mane until some means of relief rippled to her. In his stance, in the air. It held a hint of awkwardness to it; one she knew they could overcome. They have before.
A flutter ran when his shoulder teetered forward to ease the weight on her chest in full, and his thumb caressed her jaw, skimming down her neck, to simply lay there exhausted by the short trek.
"Your sleeping pattern is going to be the death of me, you know that?"
She smiled at the tickling sensation playing with her mouth. Had he checked her breathing?
"Sorry… When I have a nice dream, it's hard to come out of it."
"Hmm," Munto mused. "And what is it you were dreaming of, my dreamer?"
"You," she sighed sweetly and kissed the pads of his fingers. "What about you?"
"You."
His hand left separating them, emotionally detached. She could imagine what horrors his mind had conjured through experience.
"You can stay." Yumemi nuzzled his forehead. "Stay."
He said no verbal agreement, but the skin of his arm pulling around her waist was hot, and the breath on her collar, cold.
She looked out the tall windowpanes and admired the quiet.
"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" *
This was not his room.
He knew the moment he drifted back into consciousness. The pillows were softer than his liking; the sheets cotton, not silk.
Ah.
Munto remembered then. The dream. It echoed the feeling too close to premonition. He was at her door before he could even put his freaking pants on.
What was different from his past night terrors, he was uncertain. Hell, she was even here in the confines of his castle. Her family allowed it mid-week for the equinox holiday. It was preposterous of him to act so forthcoming when she was so well protected.
Yet…
The anniversary of Gntarl's Island Fortress attack cycled closer as the months ticked by, for they were already in autumn, despite the lingering summer heat. Last winter, he had convinced himself the promise reassuring Yumemi was safe in her time, away from the Akuto-lust and Heavenly war. A war he fought in her name, in ways, although he did not have the courage to speak those three syllables aloud at the time.
With the attack upon the Lower World, that security had been horrifically uprooted, quite literally. It left him second-guessing himself.
Even in the relief of seeing her serene face and comforting touch, he was so fear-stricken that if he let his guard down too quickly, he would find that this was the dream, and his nightmare the actual reality.
It had happened before. His parents—his happiness—ripped right out of his outstretched grasp. They trusted him with everything.
And his current reality brought on an unsettling realization: the Magical King had slipped into the Girl of Destiny's room last night. All night.
Shit.
He mentally kicked himself. How had he been so foolish?
Was it such a predicament, though? There was no more secrecy; they were a public item, above and below. Granted, mindful, for laws were different in cultural comparisons, however…
He did not want to taint her image.
And now, an opportunity presented itself to take his leave. Pathetic he had to resort to sneaking in his own home, but he found himself hesitating. She had welcomed him with open arms, and at such an untimely hour, too. He should at least say goodbye, until breakfast pleasantries.
Doubt resolved, catseye gold turned to the one at his back and his mouth evaporated dry.
Over his shoulder, laid the full expanse of her thigh. An arm was tucked under her chin, limbs sprawled belly flat, while locks of gold fanned across the pillow, spotted in floral patterns. Her ivory nightgown was presently not passed her calves, and he could only stare at her hipbone, idly counted the few numbered freckles, which revealed little else underneath.
All means of escape was then locked to naught. He was utterly captivated by her spell.
Flushed cheeks blew a composing breath once Munto was able to move again, and forcing his gaze at the high ceiling above, he had to firmly remind himself of his thoughts just moments prior. Her image. He needed to keep a hold of that.
For the one he cherished and was charmed by her determination and sincerity, claimed as his—
"Calm down." His heart's hammering had run south.
—was giving him the quickest, most contradicting whiplash between responsibility and desire. Unsurprising.
First, covering her modesty.
He was not mistaken, knowing full well if there were even a graze on the supple flesh, he would not have the will to stop and be most obliged to wake her by other tasteful means. His tongue swept across his bottom lip at the mental image: him, pinning those hips, her, pulling the roots of his hair closer—
Stop. He needed to focus.
It appeared the blanket had been kicked to their ankles. Stretching forward, he snagged and bellowed the cloth in a fluid, two-step motion, paused to see if she had stirred, and then reclined with his jaw braced on a row of knuckles.
The situation rang nostalgic, back when he first brought her to the Magical Kingdom. He was just as enraptured by her sleeping beauty.
"Yumemi, the morn is here," he pet her crown, "It is time to start our day."
Her breathing continued at its lulled pace.
"Darling, come now," he gently urged and scratched the back of her scalp. The feel of her hair was silken.
No response. Not even an eye flutter. This was how she nearly gave him a goddamn heart attack last night.
He sighed for patience, knowing the longer he stayed, the harder it was going to be to leave. Sharing affection on picnic blankets and afternoon naps was far more different than two teenage bodies caught between dawn sheets.
Diving deeper than a mere hover, he pulled to cradle her limp form in and rubbed soothing circles. The nightgown rasped under callous fingertips. A mindless tune rumbled on her cheek from his throat, and he drifted to acknowledge that he was enjoying the task of waking her.
"Mmm…"
Flared nostrils huffed in success.
Her arms wrapped around his neck child-like, as one clung to a parent, but the softness of her breasts said otherwise.
Crap, he was not getting out with discretion.
"Good morning."
"Mmm-hmm," was her cadence response. She was a heavy sleeper and slow to wake, very fitting for her name.
He nudged them space so he could view her when she first opened her eyes. In finally doing so, she blinked once, twice, dazed, and then curled into the plush down with a bitten smile.
…Cute.
There would be no hiding, though, and he tucked her bangs away to bring her back to him. Her hand joined his knuckles' caress and she laced their fingers together.
"Hi," she greeted.
"Hey," he whispered back.
She drew in his face on her sternum and traced up the column of his nose, pressed the gap between two brows as a reminder—she chided that he would get wrinkles for frowning so much—and tweezed away a stray eye crust from his lashes.
Looking pleased with herself, she tugged him closer for a chaste kiss but soon broke it to stifle a yawn.
"How did you sleep?" she asked mid-stretch.
A pause beat.
He had not even considered. Quite frankly, it was the best he had in a long time.
She smiled at his nod.
"Thank goodness," she praised and hugged him, which he returned.
Yumemi in his arms always bloomed warmth in his chest. It was a sensation similar to his magic: comforting, safe, protective; the synergy they share through space-time. However, her ankle rubbing up his knee caused a different kind of warmth difficult to restrain, one he had to proceed with caution and required a distraction before things got too heated.
"Careful not to flash your ass out in the open like that."
"You're the one who came in my room in the middle of the night," she groused and tugged behind.
"Ow!" The waistband of his boxer-briefs snapped. "Hey, you!"
A tickle match broke out. Given her petite size, he very much had the upper hand in their squirming laughter, which gradually subsided through a series of slow pecks to the mouth.
"I must go," he pulled away when the familiar squeeze constricted his lungs, as if he had run with no such exertion. It made his blood hot and heart sing. "I have already overslept—"
"Nuh-uh!" She latched on, determined. She possessed far more strength than stature suggests. "I know you cleared your schedule! I get kisses and cuddles! It's only fair!"
And how could he deny?
"Hoh? Forgive me. Have I ruined your beauty rest, Princess?"
"You didn't ruin anything." A pretty blush peppered her cheeks pink. "It was nice, you being here."
He gave his agreement with a kiss.
They bumped noses, fervor escalating, a hiccup for air, and he suckled her cupids bow, sliding in and—
"Wait, I've got morning breath," Yumemi covered herself, sheepish. She was be being polite on his behalf.
He shook his head in a negative, miffed that he had been interrupted, and inserted his tongue again. The sound of her moan had his toes curling.
God, he loved how she tastes.
She pulled him in closer by the nape and pressed her beating ribcage flush against his. It appeared he was not the only eager one. Slowing their pace, he hung panting at her lips.
Another distracted was necessary to pull himself together.
"What did I say about locking your door?" he murmured.
"Eh?" She looked to her right at the closed entrance. "What are you talking about? It was. Didn't you unlock it?"
No, he was certain he waltzed right into her room in his panic.
"Maybe… It knew."
"The door?" he asked, brow raised. The door was no sentient being like the Akuto Doll. How odd.
"No!" she whined. "Our heart's connection. It knew you needed me. Yay for magic?"
"That sounds mildly insulting," he grumbled. He was the Lord of All Magic, the strongest magician in the Heavens. He had his knowledge of spells.
"No way," she waggled her pointer to his nose tip, "There's still a lot we don't know about it. Maybe it made it easy access?"
"…Like your lack of undergarments?" The joke wrote itself.
"Jeez, Munto, quit it!" She whacked him with a spare cushion. "You're more naked than I am!"
"I beg your pardon!"
Her squeal pierced his ear when he lunged at her shoulder, to blown raspberries and erupted giggles. Soon, their tug-of-war rocked peaceful, only to incline in tangent to further exploration from the last.
There was a fire in his gut that her touch was stroking, and he could not ask more for the ignited flames. Munto knew she was getting too close to sensitive territory, however, with her nibble at his earlobe.
"Not there," he grit. "We talked about this—"
"No~" she sang in denial, her breath moist. He did not even notice her feet had pinned the back of his knees; she had him right where she wanted him. "Don't run."
His pride jabbed in rebuttal for her disobeying his order. Pesky girl was playing with fire. He was not being cowardly! He was trying not to pop a—
She bit the cartilage and pleasure zipped electrified down his loins. He emitted a loud groan, as if he edged over. Then they were nearly a foot apart, with her hands outstretched high above them, looking very shocked.
"Umm!"
Yeah, he was just as surprised.
"And… now I have a hard on." Again. Fully erect. Luckily no soiled trousers. "Proud of yourself?"
"Really?" she gasped, and cautiously peeked down at the space between them.
To prove himself by grinding against her was very tempting. Or would she take bravery and feel for herself?
Because, by God, the sexual tension had become nearly suffocating this last summer. He was willing to gamble a sticky boner for the prize of her wet sex squelching at his knuckles any day. Someone had to give.
After a visible pause, she chose timidness. He would respect that. Although, it did not mean they had to stop all together.
The corners of his mouth pulled slowly, keeping their eye contact when brushing the hair off her shoulder to expose her neck. It sport rosy splotches, colored from his attention. His mark. He watched long lashes close, as she submits, and turned her head for him with a soft sigh and smile.
He plucked down her front buttons with leisure and cupped the mound. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he was delighted when a nipple perked underneath his rolling thumb, and his right hand joined to play.
Her breathing picked up slightly after a hitch.
"Munto…"
His mouth littered careful kisses at and over the clothed flesh. He was grateful she allowed him. It was not too long ago when she guided him in her shy want to take things further.
Her image, his conscious nagged.
Her image—was that she was a beauty underneath him. What took place behind closed doors was their business, dammit!
Yumemi's hands slipped downward, sparking a jolt of excitement because there was skin on skin, and she struggled to pull her pajamas off fully. Her hair was caught on a button.
"H-Help, please?"
He jumped right in to assist, and there was nervous laughter exchanged in their working fingers. His cheeks were aching.
"Phew! Okay," she relieved, and arched her elbow.
Quick reflexes reached for the garment overhead when flung too far on the stone headboard. There was a squeak, and the girl covered her beet face, for he shot up and forward and now their hips were even.
Well, she got her proof.
He grinned amused at her typical response, and shimmied himself back down with her open knees at his stomach. He whispered playful affections into her ear until her guard stood down and emeralds crest once more.
Breathing in his jitters away through another kiss, he moved to slip off his remaining garment. He brought it up for show, very much liking the bite at her lip, and paired it with hers on the bed's edge. She embraced him around the shoulder blades and fluttered down his spine.
"You know, I thought I'd be more nervous."
"We do not have to do anything," he rasped. "I merely want to hold you like this."
Yes, he would admit that his thoughts were running a bit out of control, but it was his truth. To be vulnerable was… not an easy concept for him to accomplish. He was used to being the one looked up to for strength, not the other way around. But he was trying. And if she were willing to offer her heart bare, he would humbly reciprocate. The motive of his courtship was not only for sex.
"So, will getting me naked get you to talk about it?"
He threw a glare at her prodding, knowing exactly what it was referring to, but he softened his defense. She was worried.
Tipping his jaw back to the pillow's hold, he recalled the dream; hazing in and out of detail, but lead by feeling:
It began a memory.
He was skyward on the battlefield. Guridori's Magitech forces breached island shores.
Explosions pattered near and far in the distance. He kept a keen eye out for the commanding ship leading the fray. Rui had not been able yet to determine which.
A handful of his men had been cornered and he came to their aid to defend and protect.
There was a deafening boom, a body flailed, and his hand reached. A jerking motion. Debris flew. His teeth clattered from the shaking force.
Gripped on the rock side of a floating artillery, they dangled. He secured his sweating grip and called out to the other magician.
There was no answer.
Again, he shouted. Had he lost consciousness?
Looking downward, he found, dreadfully, no. He had not lost conscious. Because he had been decapitated, ripped at an angle from the iron wreckage, and his arm was nowhere to be seen.
Dammit.
Pulling up the befallen soldier, he hurried to find identification before his body disintegrated back to the great flow. He did not care that blood soaked his clothes or hair. He already had it on his hands. Red was his color.
It was—
It was Yumemi's school card.
And then time slowed as he read her birthday: February 23rd, school: Kotoha Junior High, grade: Third Year. Her smiling face framed in her blue uniform. All under his smeared fingertips. *2
His heart hammered in trepidation, for the dream twisted to the most horrific possible, because he was back to the worlds' end and the pillar of light had snapped to an everlasting darkness.
Gntarl's crystallization was a success.
No, not according to plan. She was in a mangled crucifixion.
As hard as she tried and wept, she could not move her useless limbs. Her middle was pierced and bleeding out, and he could not do a damn thing. Humans could not be healed with magic; they did not have the material makeup.
It was useless. All he was able to do was comfort her, kissing her wet cheeks and told her to hold on as she gasped and choked on her own inner fluids.
But then she was no longer in the crystal entrapment—a perspective tilt—but in his lap, and still gouged through. He shook when the green in her eye no longer held its luster. She was still.
The power of premonition was a double-edged sword. The future branched infinite possibilities.
"Munto…"
He snarled up at the one responsible. Gntarl glowered down his long, pale nose, and his large sword shown malicious.
"Pathetic," he jeered. "She made you soft."
He needed to wake up. He did not wake up.
Why could he not fucking wake up?
"…It felt too real. Until I realized it was, but with a different person, at a different time."
The Admiral's custody hearing would be in a handful of weeks. Munto prayed his dream was not connected to that.
"Luan…"
A soldier boy, who had been younger than him. Oh, how his kin wailed when given the news.
"Two years, now, huh? His memorial will be soon." He waved away the somber thought before it could consume him, to then focus on what he fought so hard for. She gave him faith in the new future they had opened. "Well, I have plenty distractions to keep myself busy."
"I'm… not really prepared right now," doe eyes pleaded, "I've got sandpaper legs."
"Sandpaper legs, huh?" He licked between his fingers suggestively. "Must be good for exfoliation."
She laughed, dipping her head, and whined a flustered retort.
"This is more than enough, Yumemi," he murmured against her kissed temple, "Thank you."
They stayed lounged until the sun rose to the mountain's base and her stomach gargled for food, much to her embarrassment.
The next winter ensured a chill and he would to keep her warm. His element was fire, after all.
A/N: The personal goal: for OTP to say, "I love you," without actually saying it. Thank you for reading and Happy Thanksgiving! ^_^
—Ari [11.23.23]
*1: "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" is a discrete way to confess in Japan, originated by Natsume Soseki in the 1800's. It is often used in Japanese media.
*2: Yumemi's middle school is legit, but we also have a canon name: [ /ZE8fixbL6hUaia00] and [ /ZE8fixcUmwgvSe00]
*3: Kudos if you remember this AU from 2018: [ /s/13382746/11]