#It's great being the smaller younger sibling I always take clothes from my brother and they fit PERFECTLY. And they feel nice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poptod · 3 years

Text

A Special Kind of Attention (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The young Prince, who you are in the employ of, enjoys playing pranks and generally tormenting you.

Notes: pretty heavily implied male reader, but its still gender neutral! if you ever wanted to dom ahk, heres your chance to live vicariously through your imagination. ahk has some major bde in this fic WC: 3.6k

*- this is a reference to a wellknown myth at the time. basically, its saying he should stick cum up his ass (and thus label himself a bottom)

No matter how much sweat had gathered on the back of his sun-burned neck, he comforted himself with the fact that this would be, in the end, very much worth the work. Below his clinging hands, the bag sloshed with well water. He had passed by you earlier in the morning, as you stood guard outside the city gates, your attention unwavering from your duty. The sight of you followed by a well brought an idea into his head, and he decided seeing you drenched in water would be a fun activity.

He'd done worse before, to be fair––always to you, never to any of the other soldiers, and certainly not any civilians. By now you must've grown some deep seated resentment for him, but you never let it show. That was part of the fun––seeing just how far he could go before you lost it.

Keeping his back pressed to the wall of the entrance, he snuck up behind you, careful to keep slow so the swishing water didn't give him away. With one great heave, he moved to the tips of his toes and dunked the bag over your head, sprinting off with maniac laughter as you shouted, yanking the bag off just to see him disappear. From a distance he watched how your skin glistened, and how he could very nearly see through your clothes.

Unbeknownst to you but known to him, you would see each other later tonight––the soldiers were being rotated again, meaning the soldiers by the Nile were to protect the palace, and the palace soldiers would take over observation of the outer markets. Ahk grinned to himself, imagining you looking over dinner. It wasn't often that he got to see your behavior in front of the Pharaoh, but each time was such a treat, watching you keep perfect posture and composure as he teased you any way he could imagine.

That night, he eyed you from his seat at the long dining table. You were positioned in front of the entrance of the hall, opposite another soldier, whose name he didn't care to remember. As always you kept your chin high, eyes trained on a distant wall.

He stared for as long as he could, and when at last your own gaze wavered to meet his, he winked, biting his lip with a smile. You turned away immediately, flushed with warmth.

"You're quiet this evening," said the Pharaoh, his attention directed to Ahk, who turned with wide, surprised eyes.

"Apologies," Ahk said as he returned to his dinner. "I did a lot of studying today, so my mind is a little... flighty, right now."

"I didn't see you in the library," Kamun said, raising a single, accusatory brow.

"I went to Osiris' temple to practice my handwriting," Ahk returned curtly, a quick and succinct statement that was as effective as it was fake.

"Good man," his father said with a smile. "Taking initiative. Why don't you ever do that, Kamun?"

Kamun, the eldest brother, seethed in his spot but said nothing. He was the least charismatic of the four brothers and also the most dedicated, which was an unfortunate combination for a man as prideful as him. All the work he did was brushed away, always dulled out by his younger brothers' accomplishments, yet he very rarely mentioned his own anger in front of his parents. No, most of the time it came out when Ahk was alone.

That was how you found him after dinner; his face shoved against the coarse wall, arm twisted painfully high behind him. Kamun had a knee in his back, keeping him pinned there.

"Admit it was a lie, brother," the elder hissed, readjusting his grip on Ahk's head to bang it harder against the stone.

"Go stick a head of lettuce up your ass*," Ahk said, laughing at his own joke until Kamun knocked his head against the wall again, a hollow thud coming from his skull.

You cleared your throat and both their struggling ceased, the two parting from each other.

"Good evening, my Princes," you said quietly, stepping nearer till you faced them both. The muscles in the back of your hand rippled as you strengthened your hold on your spear.

"Hello," Ahk said dully as Kamun stormed off, his hands balled into fists even when he disappeared around the corner of the hall.

You watched as Ahk rubbed at his sore arm, massaging away the strain.

"You know, he wouldn't do that if you weren't such an asshole to him," you said offhand, looking down at his injury with an unimpressed expression.

"Why are you nice to me then?"

"If I wasn't, I would get my head chopped off," you reminded him.

"Oh," he grumbled. "Right."

"I'm sure you don't need an escort to your room. Good night," you said, turning to leave before a hand grasped your upper arm, whirling you back around.

"He knocked my head pretty hard," he said with a dazed, shit-eating grin you knew all too well. "Might need some help."

You very nearly groaned audibly, but you managed to keep it behind your lips. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, was all––besides, this wouldn't take long, and you would be able to retire to your quarters, which had recently been moved into the palace. You comforted yourself with that thought as you silently walked down the halls.

Ahk being shorter than you did little to make you feel less humiliated. Actually, it only worked to make you feel worse, being bossed around by someone both younger and smaller than you. You supposed that was how most people felt when children were made Pharaoh.

"So," Ahk began, his hands behind his back, "how's your day gone?"

"Someone threw a bag of water over my head that disturbed several of the market stalls, and many merchants got angry. So we had a tussle outside the city," you recounted blandly, your eyes straight ahead despite the wealth of expressions coming from the man beside you.

"Sounds like someone made your day interesting," he said along with a smile, neither of which you replied to in any way.

By the time you made it to the double doors of Ahk's bedroom, your grip on your spear was so tight you were surprised it hadn't snapped in half yet. You helped him open the doors, weapon still in hand, and kept the doors open as he stepped inside.

"Good night, m-"

"It's still early, why don't you join me?" He asked, tilting his chin upwards with a cocky look in his eye.

"I really should -"

"Come," he ordered, beckoning you over.

Again you bit the inside of your cheek, and followed him in, letting the door slowly swing shut behind you.

"You want to know something I admire about you?" Ahk said as he wandered into his room, leaving you in the middle while he searched his bookcase.

"What's that, sir?" You asked, despite not wanting to know in the slightest.

"You've got quite the resolve," he said, turning back to you with two chalices and one jug. "Haven't seen it break yet."

"Well, I was trained in Thebes, sir. They're thorough with their teachings."

The prince handed one of the cups to you, pouring red wine that sloshed and bubbled as it landed in the goblet. He filled his own glass before setting away the jug. With that he clinked his cup against yours, the empty tink ringing in the silence. He drew a long sip, his eyes trained on yours, and remaining so even as he lowered his cup.

"Tell me about your family," the Prince said.

"I'm not sure how that's relevant to anything."

"Come now, you know all about my family--"

Who doesn't, you thought.

"––and I think it's only fair I know something about yours."

"Do you ask this of all your soldiers?" You asked as you took another sip of red wine.

"Just the handsome ones," he replied, stepping closer with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"I don't think I need to remind you that you shouldn't be fraternizing with your employees," you said flatly.

"Mm, you're good at deflecting questions, aren't you?"

"I'm good at staying focused."

"Still... what's going on with your family that you're ever so reluctant to share anything about them?" He asked, taking another step towards you, that you now combated by taking a step backwards.

"... my sister got deported recently," you said, breaking from his gaze to look to the floor beside you. "I don't have any family besides her."

"I thought you were an Egyptian citizen?"

"I am. She isn't. She was born down south, a few years before I was born here, in Memphis. Our parents died a little while back but they would've been deported too."

"She is older than you though, isn't she? I'm sure she can take care of herself," Ahk said as he swirled his cup.

"Yes. I know."

For politeness's sake you stayed a moment longer, took another swig from your cup, before setting it aside.

"If you don't need me, I should be getting back t––"

"Oh, but I do need you," he said, stepping closer, "if you don't mind."

You stumbled as your back hit the closed door behind you, feet fumbling to regain what balance you'd lost.

"Of course... sir," you said in a monotone voice, keeping your rushing adrenaline below the knot in your throat.

The younger prince had always been a bit eccentric––stories from your coworkers and various palace dwellers had told you so. He generally did whatever he wanted, but his parents doted on him dearly, and he got away with just about everything. While it seemed a little unfair to not do the same for the eldest child, you did notice that while both siblings were passionate, Kamun was passionate in a more violent way, while Ahkmen was passionate in an undeniably flirtatious way. In the short amount of time you'd spent guarding the corridor for Ahk's room, you'd seen three different people sneaking out of his room multiple times. You had a responsibility not to become one of them.

Ahkmen circled you, stopping in front of a floor-length mirror that casted his reflection perfectly.

"My manservant got sores from work yesterday, so I sent him home early. But," he met his own gaze, "these clothes are near impossible to take off without help from another. Do you mind?"

Though the expression on your face remained a mute, dull expression, you could feel the flame burning in your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded even in the ends of your fingers, wrapped around your spear.

"... no. Of course, my prince," you said, your voice strikingly low and rough.

A pleased smile stretched across his lips as you approached, setting your spear aside against a wall. To be fair, he did genuinely need help––the beaded collar on his shoulders was latched far behind his back, and if he tried to reach it, he might tear the sleeves or break the collar. You reached for the tiny latch, pulling and releasing the two you found.

"There's one more, bit further down," he said, still watching his own reflection. You caught your own eyes peering over his shoulder, their dark sternness piercingly depressing beside the Prince's golden colors.

With a deep breath you pushed aside his long cape, calloused fingers reaching for the last latch. You accidentally brushed against the skin of his back, hot against your cold hands, which he certainly felt judging by the way his posture straightened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"There," you said, stepping away. "Done."

"Thank you, dear," he said as he reached up, sliding the collar off his shoulders, his cape drifting off with it.

Sleeves soon followed and the whole of his chest was bared, graced by dark freckles and the golden bands still circling his thin wrists. You watched, unaware of your own staring, as he began to tug at his belt, pulling it off his hips. His skirt sagged, exposing his hips carelessly in front of you. Something as little as a deep breath had you shaking ever so slightly.

"Is that it, my Prince?"

"Here," he said, handing you his collar, and the attached cape and sleeves.

Golden fabric piled onto your arms, soon followed by his belt, golden wristbands, and the crown on his head. It was a good deal heavier than you would've imagined, and you wondered if it ever hurt.

Your thoughts on the crown were ripped away from you, leaving your mind a blank, empty expanse the moment his skirt fell to the floor. If he noticed your stupor, he didn't say anything. Instead he simply gathered up the cloth and handed it to you, padding nude to his desk, upon which he opened a box made especially for his gold wristbands. He pulled them off, leaving him blank of identification.

As he turned, he finally caught your eye, but couldn't keep it for long. Your eyes darted back to the ground, wide with the morbid feeling stewing in your head and chest. He chuckled.

"You can set those in my wardrobe," he said, stepping towards his bed and kneeling upon it.

You dutifully obeyed, trying to get a grasp on your shaky breathing before you had to turn and face him again. Folding and taking care of clothes was absolutely not one of your skills, but you tried your best, and eventually returned to stand in front of the kneeling Prince.

He wasn't terribly muscular, more lean, but you could still see thin muscles peeking through the dark skin. Along his clavicle were two freckles––similarly, long eyelashes led to the freckles lining his cheekbones, still dusted with an earlier blush. There was no denying he was a handsome man, though that was no excuse to give into such urges. You could hardly admit to your own desires, much less act on them, which kept you from moving at all.

"A little while ago you informed me that you have no partner," he said softly, still looking you directly in the eyes.

"Yes."

"Is that still so?"

"Yes," you said. "I like to keep to myself."

A touch against your exposed thigh had you jerking backwards, a strangled grunt coming halfway out your mouth.

"No one will have to know," he murmured, dragging his touch up your sensitive skin, long untouched for most of your waking years.

Your first instinct was to pull away, which you did do at first, but the flat expanse of his palm pressing on your thigh had you rooted to the spot. Most everything in you froze, shock and surprise filling your head. Still, you tried to keep a calm expression, and gave little away.

"Is this what you wanted?" You asked.

His grin just widened, teeth digging into his bottom lip and pulling till it released, soft and red.

"Why am I your victim in all your... hijinks?"

"Well," he chuckled, "you're awfully pretty, and you won't pay any attention to me if I don't."

Seeing as you weren't struggling, he took to pulling on your belt, shifting back on the bed to make space for you. Your lack of movement was no invitation, but he must've taken it as such. One harsh tug had you stumbling forward, balancing yourself with one knee on the mattress, your hands open to catch yourself.

"Sir, I am not permitted –"

"Shhhhh," he hummed, his hand moving lightning fast to catch you by your chin, pulling you closer yet till your noses nearly touched. "Your Prince asks this of you."

The slightest movement from him––eyes fluttering shut, neck craning forward––and he was kissing you, plump lips moving as soft as rose petals against you. Warmth gathered everywhere, growing in your breath, in your moving lips, building and building till the tension became nearly too much. You tried to move backwards, oversensitive and overstimulated. But the Prince wouldn't let you––he simply held you tighter, dug his hands into your hair, and pulled you forward so forcefully you landed on top of him, your weight meeting his heat.

That heat was recognizable even through the material of your skirt, pressing against your hip. As unfortunate as it was, you could feel your own excitement growing within you, sending warmth to your face and your thighs.

"Fuck," you mumbled, mostly to yourself, when Ahk finally let you breathe.

"What?" He asked softly, petting your hair as he did his best to keep you close to him. His legs wrapped around you, the hand on your cheek keeping you facing him.

"I told myself I wouldn't do this," you said, still quiet and gruff.

"So you expected this?"

"I knew it was a possibility," you said flatly.

"Good," he said with a smile you couldn't quite understand. "That means you're prepared for this."

Before you could ask what he meant, his feet were pushing your skirt down your hips, the white linen quickly dropping to the floor. You didn't do the knot as tight as you should've this morning.

"Ahkmen ––"

"Mm, I like that," he said, grinning sly as ever. Your expression contorted with confusion, so he continued with, "I like when you say my name."

Very rarely did you ever refer to any of the royal family by their first name. Technically you could call the Pharaoh by his Horus name, but simply calling them by their status had always been easier than remembering names.

Your shock once more worked to your demise, or at least the demise of your self respect. The young prince flipped you over while you were unaware of yourself, pinning you to the bed with his hips sat on yours, directing your hands to circle his waist as he kissed you deep once more. A muffled grunt came from you, fingers instinctively digging into him.

I'm being seduced by a Prince, you thought miserably. I feel like I should be happier about this.

"I want you to use your mouth on me," he mumbled between rough kisses, taking what pleasure he wanted from you. "Wanna see what that quiet tongue can do."

He reached down to stroke his own length pressed against your stomach, leaking and hard from the tension he'd grown. Your breath caught in your throat again, unable to dislodge itself as you stared, mesmerized by the pulse of his chest and hum of his soft moans.

"Can you do that for me?" He asked as he began to grind against you.

Holy fuck, you thought, wide eyes taking in his entirety. You could finish from his begging alone.

You gripped his hips, and in one, swift movement he was beneath you, his hand returning to touch himself. Before he could properly do so you batted his hand away, stalking down the bed till your face rested above his twitching hips. You kept his eye the whole time.

Wet already began to seep to the edge of your tongue, waiting for you to finally meet his cock. The arrogant young prince had you right where he wanted you, where you had tried so hard to avoid, and where he now kept you of your own free will.

The flat of your tongue ran a long stripe up him, drawing from him a long, relieved sigh. His head fell back, one of his knees kinking upwards. You watched his reactions carefully, kissing wet spots all up and down, catching whatever dripped down. On the prominent veins you sucked a little harder, making him hiss and his back arch upwards. Every movement he made you lapped up like you were starved.

Fingers soon dug into your hair, pulling and tugging whenever you graced his sensitive spots. Soon, ready for his lack of control, you wrapped your lips around the head, gently pulling and sucking with your tongue as you began to sink deeper.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, running his fingers through the locks of your hair before tugging hard.

Soon his cock nudged the back of your throat, stopping there as you tried to swallow him down. Twice you tried unsuccessfully, but as you calmed yourself, you could feel him thrust deeper yet into you, forcing into the back of your mouth and cutting of your breath. You moaned, albeit quite muffled, from the sensation. The hand on the back of your head kept you in place as he thrusted upwards, moans tumbling from his mouth as he used you.

Caught in his hold, you did your best not to gag, dutifully swallowing around him and breathing when you could. He grew steadily faster, with less rhythm and more force shoving into you. Your hands gripped his hips to hold yourself up better, but even as you tried to pull away, tears stinging your eyes, he kept you there, locked away in the throes of his own pleasure.

Your nose remained pressed to his hip as he came, a long, sweet trail of moans following what spurted into the back of your throat. With no give to pull yourself off and no possible way to open your mouth further, you swallowed what you were given.

The burning pull on your hair soon released as well, allowing you to sit up and away from the young Prince. He was still panting, his gaze cast lazily upwards, and hands gathering in his own messy hair.

"I got a little carried away there," he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing. "I apologize for that."

"Don't worry," you said as you grabbed his hips, pulling him close to you and flipping him over. By pulling him up on his knees, you shoved his head onto the mattress, the force of it drawing a gasp from him. "You'll make up for it."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

107 notes · View notes

winghero-writing · 4 years

Note

hey I just found your blog and.. WHY DIDN'T I SEE U B4 UR SO GREAT I LOVE U FOR THE 30 MIN I READ THRU EVERYTHING!!! and I was wondering since u did a Keigo x Todoroki!reader and the reader told the smaller fam about her bf I want to know how Endeavor reacts :p U don't have to do it but I'm a fucking cat and curiosity finna kill me.

Hey! In sorry in taking too long to answer the asks but in going to get them out, I promise! Also, thank you so much for the support! I hope I did justice to what you wanted!

It had been a few weeks since Y/N introduced Keigo to her siblings. She was happy with the outcome and so was Hawks. But right now, is when the real challenge starts.

She knew that her siblings would like Hawks, and even if they didn't like him that much she could use her privilege as an older sibling and get them to stay out of her love life. It was really reliving when they told her they were happy for her.

Now, her dad was something unpredictable, she can't even imagine the way he would react.

Now, her days consist of her head full of scenarios of how to break the news to her dad and how he would react.

She knows he is changing for the better. He took to heart the advice she told him and began to show interest in his children without giving up, even when Natsuo pushed him away or Shoto ignored him.

She was pulling a lot of scenarios in her head at the moment that she didn't hear the door from the apartment. She gave Hawks a spare key since she always got scared when he used the window to get in.

"Dove?" Hawks made his way from the front door to the kitchen where he found his girlfriend lost in thought.

"What are you thinking about, little birdie." He moved a chair and took a seat, he saw her jump a little, getting out of thought. He laughed a little at her reaction.

"Keigo! I didn't hear you. I'm so sorry!" She stood from her chair a little and give him a kiss. It didn't last too long but he was satisfied with it.

"So, what do you have in your head that you forgot about me?" He rested his chin on his hand, giving her his full attention.

Y/N played with her fingers a little in deep thoughts before answering him.

"It's just..." She let out a long sigh. "I already introduce you to my siblings and my mother. I have to introduce you to my father too." She looked at him and found a smug expression in his face. She knew that he would think that all this would be easy but it wouldn't be.

"Not as the Winged Hero, Hawks. As Takami Keigo, his daughter's boyfriend." She put extra emphasis on the word 'daughter'.

She would have laughed at how his expression changed and his face showed realization about how he would have to meet Enji Todoroki, not Endeavor, but the topic at hand didn't a low her to laugh.

"I..." His whole body position change after her statement, now sitting upright and tense in the kitchen chair.

"I didn't think about it in that way..."

She smiled a little, if he got this worked up about meeting her family at least it showed that he was serious.

"We'll find a way for him not to blow up." She rested her hand on top of his own, offering comfort to her now troubled boyfriend.

A few days later, the two of them agree that Y/N would call her siblings and father to have a family dinner where she would take her boyfriend. She told her siblings that Hawks would go but hid that information to her father.

Again, her head was pulling all kinds of scenarios of the possible outcome of this dinner. Sensing her distress, Hawks took her face in his hands and looked straight in her eyes

"Hey, it's not like I'll die, you know!" He laughed, trying to make the tension lighter.

She smiled at his attempts to relaxed her. She knew that he was a lot more nervous than he showed.

The two were wearing casual clothes since it wasn't anything formal. Just dinner.

They arrived a little early for Y/N to help her younger sister for dinner. Hawks helped too, Natsuo and Shoto arrived not long after the couple. The only one missing was Enji.

He had sent a message to Y/N telling her that he was on his way, also apologizing for being a little late.

"Okay, dad is on his way." Y/N save her phone in her pocket and turned to look at her two little brothers.

"Please, don't cause a fight." She took their hands, Natsuo and Shoto saw their sister pleading eyes, it made them realize how important this was for her (and Hawks) so they agree.

Smiling at the two and giving them a kiss on the cheek, she turned to Hawks next. He smiled at her.

'Looks like he is not that nervous anymore, huh.' She returned the smiled.

"Euh, get a room you two." Natsuo made a gagging noise and turned around not wanting to see the lovey-dovey interaction that the couple had. Shoto just stared at them, not finding the problem.

Hawks laugh out loud and put his arm around Y/N.

"Well, maybe after this, we will go to the room?" He asked seductively. Y/N hit his chest and got out of his one arm hug.

"Pervert." She went to talk to Shoto about the girl she helped him with but not before sending a smile at her boyfriend.

"Y/N-nee! Dad is here!" She heard Fuyumi from the door. Y/N stood up immediately and looked at Hawks.

He made his way to the door before she could stop him.

"Yo! Endeavor, how have you been?" Hawks greet the man in a simple way. He tried to make this lighter.

"What are you doing in my house bit brain?" Endeavor didn't expect to see the Number Two in his house. His mood was starting to get down (in an angry way!) seeing the blond hero in his house.

"Dad! How have you been!" Y/N stood in front of Hawks, trying to shield him. Enji's face softened a bit at seeing his older daughter greeting him but he tried not to show it. Still, Hawks notice this change in his expression.

"Good. Now, could someone tell me why is Hawks here?" He looked at everyone in the room. Natsuo and Shoto were just watching from the sidelines but their faces showed amusement at the situation. Fuyumi just watched and couldn't help but feel a little bad about her older sister.

"You see dad, I broug..."

"I didn't come here as Hawks, Endeavor." Hawks interrupted Y/N and put his arm around her waist.

"I came here as Keigo, Y/N's boyfriend."

The house was silent for a long while. The tension could be cut with a knife. Nobody dared to move either.

Endeavor glared at Hawks while the blond was smiling at him (smirking would be more accurate).

Y/N let out a sigh, at least the news was out. She got out of Hawks hold and stood in front of her dad. She smiled at him.

"We have been together for a few months now. He is a good guy. I hope you accept him soon."

And so, she went to the table to start serving the plates, her sibling followed her to help in anything they could (also, to get out of the tension between the two heroes).

"So, I have your blessing...?" Hawks was the first one to talk, he wasn't as nervous as before but seeing how Endeavor was glaring at him would scare anyone.

"You're dead bird brain." He took Hawks from his shirt and put him at his same eye level. The blond male just gave him his carefree smile.

"Wow, wow, calm down Endeavor! I really love her you know!" He looked at him in the eyes. "And I really hope that you don't mind me being with her. I promise to protect her from anything."

"She can protect herself, she is strong." Endeavor let out in a gruff tone.

Hawks laugh at this. "Yeah, I know!"

Endeavor let go of Hawks, letting him fall from his hands. The blond male was unaffected by it and started to fix his clothes.

"I can't control her." Endeavor let out after a while. "I don't have the right, but if you hurt her you're dead." And so, Endeavor made his way to were his children where waiting.

Hawks was left there stunned. That was a blessing, right? Did he approve?

He followed the same path and took a seat beside Y/N who just looked at him with a smile. She had heard them talking and for her, it was a win. At least her dad didn't kill him.

The dinner was then filled with Fuyumi attempts to make her brothers talk without success. Y/N laughed at it, thanking her brothers for staying quiet, she knew that if they talk they would start to throw insults at their father.

At the end of the night, it was a successful mission for the couple. Even when Endeavor threatened Hawks that he would beat him up the next time. Y/N just laugh and enjoy her time in family.

- Bonus -

Hawks was patrolling. He hates patrolling at night since he enjoys sleeping in Y/N's bed, cuddling her. It was a fairly peaceful night but he didn't fail to see the blue fire from an alley not too far where he was.

He made his way to the alley and was met face to face with the infamous villain, Dabi.

"Fancy seeing you here, Number two." The villain said to him. "I'm not here to fight." Dabi put his arms up in form of surrender. "More especially, I came here to talk to you."

"What do you want Dabi." Hawks was getting pissed, he didn't want to deal with this now and fighting at this time it's a pain in the ass for him.

"I know that you associate me with the League..." Dabi hid his hands in his pockets and began walking away from him. "But you know... This is more on a personal note..." He turned a little to watch him in the eyes before going away. "You hurt her and you are dead." Dabi glared at him. It was the first time that Hawks feel scared of a villain. What did he mean by her? Before he could ask, Dabi was already out of sign.

373 notes · View notes

grimmjowkurosakidrake · 3 years

Text

Losing

Summary: Part four of my Time travel fic: The end is were we begin

Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke

Lenght: 2,118 Words

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of the curse of hatred as well as mentions of Sasuke not feeling good enough for Sakura.

Quick disclaimer: This chapter was commissioned by the always great @birkastan2018 who actually helped me to fix my grammar and turning points on the fics!! on my commissions blog @witcheswritings !

Previous Itachi and Shisui are waiting for them at the gates of Konoha when they come back. Both are genuinely smiling as they prepare to greet Sasuke and his team.

Back in his timeline, Itachi only wore his Anbu uniform or simple training pants coupled with the customary high collared shirt most of their clan wore on a regular basis. Itachi was never carefree about anything and his clothes were no exception.

Sometimes, if he puts his mind to it, Sasuke can remember with vivid clarity how his older brother used to like sweets but didn’t eat them as much as he should; how he liked festivals but rarely attended any; how he enjoyed playing with the cats roaming around the compound but wasn’t able to spend time just wandering around their home.

Now Itachi has his own cat. A fat, old, female cat named Hime that never plays with him but always purrs when he strokes the sides of her face.

Now, Sasuke can always find his brother drinking tea and eating dango at his favorite shop when he’s not at the compound or the police precinct.

Now he wears colorful and comfortable yukatas almost everyday.

Today he’s wearing a silk, bright blue yukata embroidered with beautiful designs of delicately embroidered gold half moons and waves.

By his side, Shisui is wearing his Anbu uniform. But seeing their placid smiles and the way his cousin’s hand rests on Itachi’s shoulders without care, Sasuke can appreciate how happy and free they’ve become ever since they ended the ongoing feud between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha.

Sasuke smiles at them, but otherwise tries not to overreact at the sight of his beloved brother (he still has his pride after all). The days of following his brother around like a puppy are supposed to be behind him.

Naruto is not quite as prideful.

“Itachi-nii!” screams the blond, eagerly running in the direction of the older Uchiha. He looks small next to the two imposing young adults, though not nearly as malnourished as he looked back in the day. His clothes fit him now and his once bony wrists aren’t as delicate. He’s healthy, not as raggedy looking as before.

A good family can do that to you. And Naruto’s not the only one who is different. Itachi’s eye bags aren’t as prominent even if he still has wrinkles to show for the years of sleep deprivation he suffered in the past. Shisui’s smile is just as cocky as he remembers, even with the black eyepatch he wears now after Danzo stole his eye from him.

Sometimes, even Sasuke can admit that his own smile is different than before. His eyes are softer now; they’re not as sharp and full of hatred. The smiles he can offer now are more genuine than the smiles he could offer to his wife back in his timeline.

Thoughts like this never fail to consume him with guilt when he remembers the brother who put his happiness over his own health, the friend who obsessed over having him near even at the cost of the goals that helped him overcome his neglectful upbringing, and the girl that loved him even when he couldn’t love himself.

Even when he couldn’t return her love like she deserved.

This is why he can’t go back. This is why he can’t ever regret what he did.

This is for the best. This is how they will be happy.

“Naruto!” Shisui excitedly plants both of his hands firmly on the blond’s shoulder. “First mission, huh? Did you grow taller?” Naruto beams proudly at this, straightening his back to try and show off his full height.

Which is ridiculous, because he’s still shorter than even Sakura. His head still doesn’t reach Shisui’s collarbones, but Sasuke can see what his cousin means.

Waves represents a turning point in the life of the boy who will become Hokage one day. The moment he stopped being just a rambunctious orphan child running amok through the village that despised him and started to become an actual shinobi.

One who’s seen death, mourned the loss of a dear friend, and even if it was for just a moment - one who’s been made aware of his own weaknesses.

One who’s witnessed the horrors of the shinobi world firsthand and still decided to come back stronger and as eager as ever to become the leader of an entire shinobi village.

The same could not have been said for Sasuke, back then. Waves for Sasuke was nothing but another point of proof that he was weak. It just gave him another reason to train harder.

The thought of training has him considering their female teammate. Seeing Sakura now, she actually looks smaller. Perhaps she feels shy in the presence of the Uchiha clan heads, maybe uncomfortable at being the only one who doesn’t know Itachi or Shisui. As smart as she always is, he’s sure she’s noticed the familiarity between Naruto, Kakashi and his family.

Or, maybe she’s just ashamed of her lack of growth back in Waves.

After all, she couldn’t do anything other than watch as her teammates risked their lives fighting an S-class missing-nin, standing in the sidelines with the man they were supposed to protect.

Sasuke then decides he can’t hold back when it comes to her growth.

He loves her just as he did back in his timeline and he wants her to be happy. He is planning to become a man worthy of being introduced to her parents as a loving boyfriend, and not the traitor who whisked her away from home one day.

Kizashi didn’t like him, Sakura’s mother didn’t either and Tsunade absolutely loathed him.

According to them, he was cold, cruel and not worth a loving bright girl who would do anything to see him happy. In fact, the only two people who ever supported their blooming relationship were Naruto and Sakura herself.

He’s working on loving her more openly now. But the psychotic, still cursed on love and hatred part of his soul, needs her to become stronger, less vulnerable.

Sasuke is an Uchiha, after all, and a part of his soul still carries the curse of hatred. He knows he couldn’t take it if he lost her somehow.

He wants her to reach her full potential. He needs her to become the woman able to break mountains, to receive a katana to the gut and just regenerate around it.

Her death would destroy him, just like Rin’s death destroyed Obito. He needs to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“Ah, Itachi-sama, Shisui-san” drawls Kakashi, referring to his former Anbu protégés with the formality their titles deserve.

Even when his voice doesn’t sound as respectful, and his eyes planted on his obvious porn book show everything but interest in the two men.

“Kakashi-senpai,” smiles Itachi pleasantly, “Please, just call me Itachi. I’m not the head of the Uchiha right now, just a brother interested in his younger sibling’s first mission.”

“Yeah!” hollers Shisui with enthusiasm. “But who would have thought that little Sasuke would end up on a genin team with his best friend, our former Anbu senpai and…” He stops, gaze falling right on Sakura.

There’s confusion in his eyes. Sasuke understands, as she doesn’t resemble any clan in their village. She could be a foreigner, but no Hokage would allow an outsider to be on a team with the heir of the Uchiha and the Kyuubi child.

So Sasuke makes the introduction. “This is Sakura Haruno. The one who always beat me at written exams back at the academy.”

Itachi smirks knowingly at his words.

Those were some dark days for him. When he thought his experience as a Shinobi back in his own timeline was enough to get him perfect grades and yet he was being bested time and time again by a little civilian girl.

He brooded quite a lot.

Shisui never paid much attention to his childish mood swings though, so he’s not aware of his little cousin’s Academy rival. “Haruno? I’m not quite sure I recognize that clan…”

“It’s a civilian family,” she answers, her small hands holding onto the edges of her dress. “My parents run a bakery. They opened it when dad couldn’t advance any further up the shinobi ranks.”

Sakura blushes from her neck to her ears when the older man’s eyes don’t leave her even after that shameful disclosure.

“The Haruno bakery? Just a few houses down from the Yamanaka flower shop?”

She silently nods.

“Oh!” Shisui grins widely in recognition. “They have great curry bread there!” He sighs dreamily as if thinking of those savory buns, which eases Sakura’s nerves.

“You must be very skilled,” adds Itachi, “to be put on a team under Kakashi Hatake.”

“Not really,” sighs the pink haired girl dejectedly. “I’m just lucky.”

Naruto scoffs. “Don’t say that, Sakura-chan!” he cries, forcefully cradling Sakura’s face. His lack of respect for any kind of personal boundaries are well known to everyone. “Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei are lucky to have us! I mean, look at us, we fought one of the seven swordsmen and we won! We should be celebrating! Right?” He looks between the Uchiha men and his teacher.

“Of course!” agrees Shisui, easily excited and always hungry. “How about we go out to eat something? Our treat, to celebrate little Sasuke’s first mission.”

“I shouldn’t.” Sakura hesitates with uncertainty in her green eyes. “I should be training,” she says as an afterthought, as she peeks at Sasuke. “I couldn’t do anything to help on our mission.”

“That isn’t tru-” Naruto tries to object, but he’s swiftly interrupted.

“She’s right.”

Naruto fumes at their teammate’s sharp response, but Sasuke holds firm with his own cold stare before turning to Sakura. “You need to train more. We may not be there the next time you face enemies as strong as Zabuza and Haku.”

Sasuke knows he’s not planning to leave her. But what comes after the Uchiha massacre was stopped is uncertain terrain.

The Akatsuki, Madara, Obito, even Orochimaru are more of a threat than they were before because now they’re unknown elements. Sasuke doesn’t know how his actions thus far have changed this timeline going forward, and he can’t leave Sakura’s life at fate’s hands.

“Foolish little brother,” sighs Itachi. “Training after a mission, tired and disheartened won’t do her any good.” He moves near the girl to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Haruno-san. Even if you’ve lost, you’re still alive and that’s all that matters. You should eat; you could use the energy.”

“We didn’t lose, though” corrects Naruto, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in confusion.

“Sakura-chan did,” clarifies Shisui, his usually flirtatious expression now serious, “She couldn’t help her teammates, because she wasn’t strong enough,” he states bluntly. “Isn’t that right, Sakura-chan?”

He’s smiling, but it’s not a particularly nice nor friendly smile.

“I did,” she realizes. “I did lose.” But then, with greater resolve, she steels herself and bows to her team. “I’m sorry Naruto, Kakashi-sensei. Sasuke-kun! I won’t fail you next time!”

Naruto grins widely and Kakashi smiles through his mask, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Probably mourning the misfortune of being assigned such passionate young children as his first genin team.

They always crash and burn after all. Time and time again, both love and passion had only proven to be followed by tragedy.

Sasuke just hides his face behind his bangs, still not sure how to react when it comes to the brilliant, resilient girl he’s only now getting to know.

“But for now we eat,” interrupts Itachi, guiding Sakura and her teammates towards Konoha’s shopping district. “We eat, and afterwards we will assess our weaknesses and our strengths.” He smiles while walking towards a spot they’re all familiar with. “After that, we’ll sleep, make sure to get a good night’s rest, and then tomorrow we train.”

Naruto hoots enthusiastically when they arrive at Ichiraku and enters immediately with Shisui, followed by Itachi and Sakura.

But Kakashi and Sasuke linger outside the curtains of the ramen shop. “That was some wise advice from a former Anbu captain,” he muses, while placing a gentle but firm hand on his student’s shoulder. “We would be equally wise to take it.”

Sasuke considers this as they enter the now crowded shop. He sees Naruto grinning happily as he’s served his first bowl of noodles. At his side, Sakura is smiling at his brother like she used to smile at Ino before their falling out.

Maybe, he thinks, sitting by Naruto’s other side and accepting the pair of chopsticks his best friend offers...

Maybe they’re right.

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

I hope you liked the fic and speacilly hope @birkastan2018 liked it <3

#sasusaku #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #Naruto Uzumaki #Kakashi Hatake #itachi uchiha #shisui uchiha #time travel fic #the end is where we begin #commission #taking commisions #commisionwork

50 notes · View notes

mommymooze · 4 years

Text

Sleep Doctor

Hubert X Reader. Warning: blood war violence, rudeness, bad dreams

You are often compared to Mercedes, both of you are talented in healing, as well as both of you have doting, motherly personalities. Both of you are nurturing, protective, supportive, bakers of treats, a trusted confidante.

There are differences of course. Her faith is in the goddess, yours is in the human spirit. Your reason magic is powerful as well. You don’t have a creepy brother, just a lazy sister. You cook delicious meals, you love brewing potions and concoctions. While she is laid back and chill, you are assertive and firm. You give advice and then enforce it.

Mercedes suggests that someone get more sleep, rest, take their time to recover. Maybe gently remind them after a few days if she stills sees dark circles under their eyes. You tell them they need more sleep and that you will be waiting for them at their room to make certain they sleep that night and perhaps the next two or three nights.

Linhardt enjoys sharing duties as the healer for the Black Eagles Strike force with you. His favorite taunt is to use your name as a threat. “If you do not rest that leg and let it heal, I will advise (y/n) of the situation.” Everyone is quite aware that Emperor Edelgard fully supports your extremely strict and regimented methods to ensure that the Strike Force is in tip top condition.

One of your pet peeves is finding injuries long after a battle is over. Linhardt will only leave his minor wounds untreated if he is too tired to get to it. Dorothea does very well seeking treatments promptly. Petra has a great understanding of the responsibility of your body being a temple and to keep it in constant repair. Bernadetta only hides injuries if she feels that she has made a mistake and tries to use it as self-punishment. Caspar is highly maintained and checked by Lin, so he’s in great shape. Emperor Edelgard is preened by the healers every time she returns, to make sure not the tiniest scratch is left unattended lest she get an infection. Ferdinand does frequent the healers, however he has been known to often get infections, not understanding the seriousness of the smaller, less important wounds he has received in the germ and disease filled conditions of war.

Then there is Hubert. He stands and gives reports to his Lady, while his own blood is pooling at his feet. His mindset is Duty Before All Else. Immediately upon arrival from a mission, he must report to Emperor Edelgard, then he may stop by the infirmary, but more likely will return to his tent or quarters and write his reports of the mission results.

At first you try reasoning with him. Advising him he is losing enough blood that by the time his report is finished his body is completely exsanguinated. You attempt to physically remove him from the Command tent and he strikes you with magic. Trial and error provides the answer for your most successful method of treating the irritatingly stubborn man. Healing him upon his arrival, during his report to the Emperor upon his return. The moment Hubert warps to her tent you are summoned from the infirmary. Your materials already await you in the command tent.

“Stand over here on these towels.” You order the dark mage.

“I must present my report…” Hubert angrily chastises you.

“I tire of my carpets being stained, do as she says.” Edelgard orders, he complies.

You remove his cape, cravat, and outer coat. You stand behind him as he is advising the Emperor of his latest completed duties in the never-ending effort to win the war for the Empire. You in turn untuck his white and red stained shirt from his pants and pull it up in the back clipping it out of your way. The blood has dried around his undershirt and you cut it loose from the stab wound that is just at the base of his rib cage, thankfully below his heart by a few inches. Had the assassin had a better angle, well, the Spymaster would not be with us right now.

Pressing a cloth that is thoroughly soaked in alcohol onto the wound to remoisten and allow removal of the remaining undershirt material as well as cleanse the wound preventing infection, you apply firm pressure into the hole and begin removing the soiled cloth from the deep stab wound as you hear him exclaim.

“…and then we proceeeeek!..Flames woman! Trying to finish the job!” The dark mage yells, his left arm coming back to smack you away as the burning sensation of the liquid goes deeper into his flesh.

You easily duck his attack as you remove the foreign materials, making certain the wound is absolutely clean. Minor deep healing spells take care of the immediate damage. There will still be bruising to his left kidney. You pull out needle and thread to pull the two sides of the wound back together, making it easier for the healing spells to take hold and lessen the scarring. That particular wound finished, it is not difficult to trace another slice into his flesh, this time blood is soaking into his shirt collar as he sustained a dagger’s blade to the side of his head just behind his ear. Head wounds bleed profusely, if they do not penetrate the skull they cause little problem as long as they are cleaned. A nice curved needle allows you to pick up the skin on each side to bring them back together again. A final healing spell there and the bleeding subsides.

Your hands glow lightly as they run along his body, searching for any additional injuries. The stubborn mule of a man certainly will not reveal any weak points. Two ribs on his left front are heavily bruised, healing spells correct that situation. Finding no other serious injuries, you return the cape and coat to Hubert, pat him on the shoulder, and proceed to the infirmary.

The trouble with being at war is that it is prohibitive to good sleep. There are quite a few members of the Strike Force that have issue with sleeping, some nights it is interrupted by dreams or memories of personally tragic events during the war, others cannot get to sleep in the first place, their minds tormenting them with frightening thoughts. While in Enbarr or at Garreg Mach, you are available to assist your fellow Strike Force members with issues of nightmares, night terrors or simply general insomnia. Your schedule is changed to accommodate the availability for such. You are available from sunset until 5 or 6am to assist with these issues. After that you return to your room to sleep until noon. The guards patrolling the areas are trained take notice if someone is calling out loudly in their sleep. There is also a physical sign, a request for assistance, by placing a red card slightly peeking past the bottom of the door, alerting them to retrieve you to the location for necessary assistance.

Your counsel at night is always kept between you and the patient. Having someone there to talk to is the best medicine for most parties. A trusted ear, a caring heart, letting them know they are not alone, simply being there is at times the answer to the current situation.

Hubert again, is the one most difficult to work with. His living space is highly covered in magic spells and sigils. The layout is such that if he is screaming in his bed it would not be heard through his closed door. He is not one to ask for help unless it is from complete desperation. Only by observing the reticent Spy Master can you tell that sleep has been evading him more than normal. His eyes are sunk further back into his skull, the blackness seems to surround his eyes. He taps his feet to keep his body moving, reminding himself to stay awake. This dedicated, enervated man is your most challenging patient by far. As today’s strategy meeting concludes, you request that he remain behind to discuss a matter with him and Emperor Edelgard.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept.” You ask, hands on your hips.

“Three days ago. There is no time for sleep when you are running a war.” He answers.

“There is only so long before your body will take what it requires. The next battle is less than a week away. It is critical that you sleep now.” You plead, looking to Edelgard for support. “I agree. Hubert, pass along what duties you can and carve out time for sleep every day until the battle. Provide both of us a schedule of when you will set aside time for rest.”

Hubert stands, bowing to his Emperor and glaring at you sharply before he leaves the room.

You have found, through trial and error, ways of making him sleep. Forcing him into specific routines that subconsciously prepare him for sleep. Once he is in bed and relaxed usually a palm resting on the back of his hand is enough to make him lay still enough to drift off. Sometimes he is more agitated, so you will read to him dissertations regarding the history and foundation of white magic in a monotone voice. The text is very dry, of no interest to him, yet the words distract his thoughts enough, allowing sleep to take him.

Today was no such day. Overtired and restless he shifts in his bed anxiously.

“Tell me a story.” He finally requests.

“I did not think you a fan of fairy tales or knights.” You reply softly.

“You have a large family. Tell me a story of your youth.”

You begin to weave the tales of your younger days. The family going into the woods to pick buckets upon buckets of blueberries, your brothers getting distracted by seeing who could climb the highest in a tree, Mother panicking that they would fall and break their arms and legs. Scrubbing the purple from your siblings before getting them to bed then helping mother preserve the berries in wine bottles to enjoy during the winter. You are softly retelling these events until you realize he has fallen asleep.

It is not dark in the room, the curtains are pulled close to reduce the sunlight. You pull out a novel to read. Hubert is a quiet sleeper. He’s not like Caspar who crawls around and tangles himself in his sheets while he slumbers. You look up from your book as you see Hubert moving his feet, giving a weak kick. He is pulling his arms up to his chest and his face is drawn into a frown. You drop your book. Your hand brushes his cheek softly as you try to gently wake him from his nightmare.

“Hubert, I’m here for you. Everything is all right. Shhhh.” You softly whisper.

The dark mage startles from his sleep, his eyes wide. He looks about the room finally realizing he is within his own bedchambers. He looks very distressed, his hands trembling. You instinctively pull him into a hug, holding him tight against your chest as you lay gently on him.

“Breathe, just breathe.” You urge him, taking long slow loud breaths to have him match yours.

It takes a while before he finally begins to relax again. You know you can’t stand hunched over him much longer, so you walk around the bed to lie next to him on top of the covers. You pull him to face you as you card your fingers through his hair and encourage him to relax. The exhaustion of his body takes over and he falls asleep again.

You awaken after a short nap due to movement under your arm. Opening your eyes you find Hubert looking back at you. Instinctively you slowly pull your arm from across his chest back to yourself.

“Did you rest well?” you whisper.

Hubert rolls onto his back. “Surprisingly, yes. My headache is gone.”

You quietly slide out of the bed, straightening your clothing. Making your way to the other side, you return the chair to its proper place and gather your things.

“Do you often accompany your patients in their beds?” Hubert asks, a slight sneer in his voice.

“Never.” You reply. “You are a…special case.” You reply, closing the door behind you.

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

The next day Hubert is much more coherent at the morning strategy meeting. Once the meeting adjournes, the Emperor requests that the two of you remain behind.

“I notice an improvement today.” Edelgard smiles at the Minister of the Imperial Household.

“Of course, My Lady. I refuse to disappoint you.” He respectfully bows.

“We are scheduled today from 10pm until 3am. Granted, 5 hours is not much for the average person, but to Hubert’s tortured soul it is quite the luxury.” You quip, causing Edelgard to giggle.

The dark mage scowls in your general direction. You both excuse yourselves as the Emperor has another appointment to attend. You join him as he heads toward his office.

“Was it so horrible to rest yesterday? Do you not feel some improvement?” You inquire.

“You were witness to my sleep. It is anything but restful.” He grumbles.

“Which is currently the point of my assisting you.” You respond in a logical manner.

“If there is nothing further you require, I have significantly less time to complete my duties. I bid you good day.” Hubert sniffs as he heads to his office.

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

You are waiting outside of Hubert’s quarters for his arrival. He arrives 15 minutes late. There is no apology for his tardiness. He completes his routine for preparing for bed and finally pulls his covers up to his chin, only to stare at you. You’ve brought knitting to keep you company, a quiet pastime.

“Do you need a diversion?” You ask softly.

“No.” He responds, continuing to stare daggers at you.

A few minutes later he decides to stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this?” Hubert wonders aloud.

“For your health of course. Sleep is extremely important. Your body needs the rest, so does your mind. It affects your nervous system, your immune system. All creatures need sleep.” You answer matter of factly patting the back of his hand.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“I’ve come to know everyone very closely. You are my work family and my friends. I would be devastated should anyone die from something I can possibly prevent. Just as you protect us all from spies, assassinations, poisoning, and the like, I do the same protecting everyone from sickness, injuries, infections etcetera. There is only one Hubert Von Vestra. I would like to see him live past the end of the war. “

“Hmpf.” Is his only response.

Hubert closes his eyes as you quietly knit. His breathing slows as he drifts into the land of Nod. You silently slip from his room to check on the other occupants of the Imperial Palace to find that it is a rather quiet night and there are no disturbances amongst the Strike Force. You return to Hubert’s quarters to see him still resting, which is surprising. You know he is a light sleeper, however even if he woke up, he remained in bed. You count that as a victory. As 3am nears, you head out to retrieve a carafe and water, preparing coffee in his parlor just at the time he should awaken.

“One moment.” Is heard coming from the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later Hubert emerges from his bedroom dressed for work and looking shockingly more alert than you have seen him in the past two weeks.

“Thank you for doing this for yourself as well as for the rest of us. I will see you again this evening.” You articulated as you gather your personal items to leave. You swear you almost hear a soft ‘thank you.’ from Hubert as he locks his door and heads to his office.

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

Hubert is working until midnight tonight, never a regular schedule for himself, his duties rule his sleep schedule. You leave Ferdinand’s quarters in time to head to the kitchen and obtain a cup of coffee before you must meet with the dark mage. Ferdinand sleeps well most of the time, however as the war becomes more brutal and savage, he is plagued with nightmares more frequently. After you were called to his room this night, he finally agreed to take a small sleeping potion. The thought of dark circles under his bright and shining eyes is like having storm clouds blocking the sun. He is the source of the Strike Force’s positive energy. They need him brightly shining in the lead, a beacon of hope.

Your arrival at Hubert’s door is matched with his. His posture is much improved, not hunched over barely able to stand. He greets you with a nod and waves you into his quarters. You pat his shoulder as you walk past him. He prepares for bed and once he is under the covers calls you into his bedroom. He has already placed the chair in its normal spot, close to the head of his bed. Taking your seat you place your hand on top of his. His hand does not move.

“You keep touching me. Why do you do that?” Hubert asks, staring at the ceiling.

“It is another one of the basic needs of humans. Some need it more than others. Certainly you have observed in battle, when the Professor is encouraging Caspar in the middle of a fight, if Caspar receives a simple pat on the head, he can rush forth taking out several squads of enemies at an amazing pace. When Bernadetta is extremely anxious, sitting next to her with a leg or shoulder touching her, she visibly relaxes. Emperor Edelgard relaxes with gentle hugs. Ferdinand prefers a one armed hug when being comforted through a tough time. The professor responds to hand holding and shoulder touching. Dorothea gets herself anxious and worked up sometimes, then only a full squeezing hug can get her to settle enough to speak with her.

“I was not aware of such needs, nor of your detailed observations of our team members.”

“I must admit, you are my most difficult patient in this regard.” You smile softly.

“Explain.” He says flatly.

“Beyond contact with our Emperor, you do not touch others nor does anyone touch you.” You begin. “Even when contact with another is made, it is not skin to skin, always to clothing, always with gloves. Certainly your upbringing, family history, interpersonal relationships, work schedules, work agenda and severe lack of personal time factors into this.

When one is in the infirmary, healers constantly touch the patients. Verbal reassurance is good, physical touch is required, and is extremely reassuring. When a patient is unconscious, the body still reacts to touch. When Petra was heavily injured a few battles ago, Dorothea was there for hours holding her hand, stroking her cheek. The body does react, relaxes. Somewhere in her brain, she knows someone is there for her and she needs to get better in order to rejoin them. Unconscious patients still tense up, faces furrow. Touch causes them to relax, leading the body to focus on healing.

On the battlefield, I am shocked at the condition I have found a fallen person, yet they are still alive, simply because someone else is there with them, touching them, encouraging them to hang on to that precious thread of life for yet a moment longer. That comrade being there has performed a miracle. There is no other way to explain it. Reason magic is cast through verbal incantations, physical movement, mental intentions. Healing magic is through touch, with the exception of physic, because no rule is absolute. “

“Hmmm. Continue.” Hubert watches your face closely, turning his palm to yours, taking your smaller hand into his without thinking.

“Now my observation of you, Hubert. I have heard you say that you are unworthy of anyone being close to you based on your workings below the surface, your bloodstained hands, duties you have carried out in the darkness. I disagree. You are not to judge your own worthiness. Only others can perform that task. They will base it on their own life, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. If they cannot understand you and appreciate you for who you are, all of you, then perhaps they are not worthy of you. The Emperor knows you, knows what you do for her, suspects what is done outside of her vision, yet she is there for you, accepting you for who you are, as you are. Over these years of war, all of the members of our team have learned more about you, perhaps scratching beyond the surface of you, yet they are still here. They still support you, believe in you, rely on you. They find you worthy of their protection, their support. Tell me of one person in the Strike Force that has not helped you in a battle. I certainly can tell you about how many I have had to piece together after they shielded you from certain death. I have lost count of how many holes I have patched up on you are a result of your protecting each and every one of them.”

“Physical Attributes are difficult to overcome…” he argues.

You laugh at the thought. “Have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Beauty is found within? To me, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Having so many children her stomach never went back to being flat and fashionable. She has spots on her face from being in the sun. Wrinkles in her hands from working them hard for many years. Her nose is crooked because she broke it as a child and never had it properly healed. Most people on the street would look at her as the typical matronly old woman, but to me she is more beautiful than any goddess, I would not change a thing. My sister was being courted by Bernard, her now husband. Bernard was awkward, tall and lanky. At first I noticed he was all knees and elbows, his teeth seemed to be too large for his mouth. But my sister loved him, and he loved her. When I last saw him, I saw a tall handsome man that would do anything for my sister, just looking at him you could tell he adores her. When he looks at my sister, his smile shines bright and I consider him beautiful inside and out. Ask Dorothea how far good looks will get you. She is a beautiful woman, however knows that beauty fades. She has found someone who loves her for her. That when she is old and wrinkled and gray, they will be there for her and she for them. “

“I have much to think about. Good night.” Hubert says softly closing his eyes.

You remain holding his hand until it relaxes which is not until he is in a deep sleep. He sleeps quietly and restfully. A very good rest for him indeed.

The next morning Hubert joins you in his parlor, sitting at the table with you as you silently enjoy the first cup of morning coffee together.

As you pour a refill, you finally break the silence. “Today we prepare, early tomorrow we leave for yet another battle. I know you will not sleep tonight, if you wish to try, even for an hour or two, I would be happy to help.”

Hubert briefly scowls then retracts it to a minor frown. “I can sleep on my own. I do not need you as a crutch.”

You place your hand atop his now white gloved hand. “I am not a crutch, I am an enforcer.” You smile.

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

You are too busy the night before leaving to think about Hubert. Ferdinand has a particularly strong night terror. Bernadetta had a major panic attack. Linhardt could not find a comfortable place to sleep, wandering and laying about all over the palace. You would find him in the middle of a pathway, taking him to a more secluded and safer place to sleep only for him to move to a different poor location for slumber. You finished bottling your last batch of healing potions and pots of salves for minor wounds and burns. You begin filling the wagon with as much bandages and bindings as you could stuff into it. You and the other healers riding in the wagon will take turns sleeping, resting now because once battle starts, you would not sleep for perhaps two days or more.

A few more days on the road, scouts have returned stating there is a small army preventing anyone from passing, apparently a mix of kingdom and church soldiers. A brief strategy meeting is held and soon the caravans realign, with the support teams like yours toward the rear. A few more hours at a slow pace as they advance to the enemy location. Now explosions are heard as the mages on both sides attack, the infantry running in behind the Cavalry and the fliers doing their best to snipe from the skies. Your group hurriedly throws together the medical tent, secures a location for water, sets up cots, supplies. Ready for patients, you head out toward the field of battle. Those that are no longer fit to fight are sent your direction. You assess their condition, stop severe bleeding and direct them to the correct tent location. You see a Meteor spell go off in the middle of the battle, sincerely hoping that is Dorothea and not the enemy that is the source. You watch Linhardt in the back lines, healing who he can, keeping them on their feet. You want to go out there and help, but you remain at your post.

The battle continues until sunset. You are surrounded by patients. Fortunately nobody in the Strike Force has serious injuries, or at least they have not yet made it to the medical tent. You finish cleaning the slicing wounds of a very young, perhaps 17 year old, soldier’s arms before sewing the sides of the wounds back together and then casting a healing spell on them to remove the final trace of any visible wound.

“(Y/n)” a deep voice comes from behind you.

“How are you doing Hubert? Is there somewhere I am needed?” You ask, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Do you have any healing spells left in you?” He asks, a frown on his brow.

“No, That was the last one.” You say, cleaning up your surgical tools. Before you look up, he takes hold of your arm and warps you to a tent.

“Now it is your turn. You are in desperate need of sleep. There are buckets and towels to wash up and your bags are there to change clothes.”

“I sleep in the medical tent in case they need me…” you state, confused by this.

“You are out of magic, let those that can heal remain. I will step outside, you will clean up and prepare for bed.” Hubert exits, closing the tent flap behind him.

In spite of the rudeness, it feels nice to wash the blood and grime off and change into clean dry clothing not soaked in someone else’s blood. Sleeping away from the injured is much much quieter, you think as you change into bedclothes and sit on the cot.

“Done.” You call out.

Hubert enters the tent, bringing a tin cup full of water as well as a waterskin. “You must drink this. You have not had a drink since the first patients came in.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” You gratefully take the cup and drinking the entire contents quickly.

“Now rest. Go to sleep.” His voice is quite assertive.

“Stay with me a bit?” You plead.

“Demanding woman!” He huffs, pulling the chair next to the bed to sit close by.

“Is everyone okay? Have they been checked out?” you ask.

Hubert grumbles. “Of course they are. Many have been asleep for four hours or more. Now hush.”

You suddenly sit up. “Have I stolen your bed? I can’t do that to you.”

He hesitantly touches your shoulder. “You need to rest. Stop fighting me.”

You frown and lie back down. “Could you lie next to me for a bit? Its…chilly.” You begin scooting to one side of the cot, until it threatens to tip over from having the weight all on one side.

“You are relentless.” He frowns.

You nod and lift the cover for him to join you. He lies on his back, you on your side facing him. You lift his arm bringing it around your back as you place your head and arm on his chest. Without opening your eyes you tell him, “Yes this is necessary.” You settle in next to him and quickly relax, falling asleep.

#fe3h x reader #fe3h #hubert von vestra #fe16 #feth #Fire Emblem Three Houses

65 notes · View notes

xxsovereignsarayaxx · 3 years

Text

Fifty Shades of Mikaelson: Shade 2

Authors Note: Ok so my original plan was to release Shade 2 and Shade 3 after Shade 1 but then I realised that there bits in Shade 2 and 3 that could add to the upcoming chapters for the trilogy. Everything in this AU is connected so you’ll get even more of a story. Word Count: 1877 Warnings: None. Yet. Pairing: Kol X Reader

Fifty Shades Tag List: @xxwritemeastoryxx @tomarisela @akshi8278

Missed Shade 1? Catch up from the beginning chapters for all Shades will be updated in the upcoming weeks/months.

Richmond Virginia is the home to Mikaelson Enterprises, one of the largest companies in the US to date, with countless connections across the country and the world. After receiving the company from the untimely death of their parents and younger brother Henrik the six remaining siblings all took a share and equal role within the company.

The loss of their parents and younger brother was hard on the remaining family and became so tough on Freya and Finn that they ultimately took a step back from public eye of the company and became silent partners, this allowed Elijah, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah to have a free rein on the company so to speak.

What made Mikaelson Enterprises different to all the others was the fact that it didn’t have one sole purpose. The company originally thrived at investing low market sales. Rather than take the risk and invest in the higher term stock markets each sibling took to different sectors and reaped the rewards of their own doing which allowed them to endeavour into other opportunities.

Each sibling was different, Rebekah stuck to fashion. Her aim was that she wanted people to look great whilst not breaking the bank and so she worked with a large team of designers to manufacture a line of clothing that was stylish while being at affordable prices. Kol and Niklaus went into business together to create the bourbon of bourbons, wanting to create a new brand and enjoying the odd glass or two led them to a likely partnership. Elijah was different compared to his other siblings rather than go out into the world and create a new product he used his studies and degree and built a highly respectable law firm. And each separate business venture was all under the same roof in the tallest building in the city.

Richmond was the also the home to Salvatore Industries and happened to be one of the biggest competitors to Mikaelson Enterprises and being the savvy independent business woman I was I often used their constant feud to my advantages, whilst they were always trying to outdo one another it often allowed me to swoop in and close whatever deal or buy out other small businesses they had been competing for, so I could add them to my small arsenal and ever growing empire. And for the majority of the time it worked. Much to the dismay of my rivals. But with me plucking opportunities from the sky showed both the Mikaelson’s and the Salvatore’s that I was not a woman to be messed with.

I ran my own distillery and bottling company, a much smaller one at that. But it was still able to compete with the high demand of the other much larger companies and I was able to keep up with distributing to bars in and around the city. I was always around alcohol as a child but that was because my parents ran their own bar and when I was old enough I worked part time to help pay for my studies at business school. By the young ripe age of twenty five I created my own brand of vodka, with its smoother taste and lighter afterburn it was an instant hit and by twenty six I bought my first distillery and opened up my office later in that year. Here I was months later enjoying the views from my office building. I often loved taking a step back and just observing others. There was just something about people-watching that was so satisfying and calming, and the best place to do that was from the large windows in the meeting room. As I took a sip of the ice cold water in my hand I heard the intercom buzz through.

“Y/N, your three o’clock is here.” Gia, my secretary informed me from the intercom.

Taking a step back from the window I turned and reached over and pressed the button to speak. “Thank you, Gia. Why don’t you finish early for the day? I can wrap things up here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying?”

“No, no. Go home early today Gia, you’ve earned it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I replied to her in a sincere voice.

The glass doors to the meeting room opened and my eyes looked upwards at the man walking into the room.

“Kol.” I say playfully, as the door slowly closes shut.

“Now I thought you and your brother were coming to this meeting, I wanted to finally meet both of the brains behind Hybrid in person. But I must say I’m impressed, your burst onto the liquor scene seems to have lasted. Now what can I do for you?” I added, raising an eyebrow as I gestured for him to take a seat at the large table.

“Nik’s sources tell me that you recently purchased ‘The Compound Distillery’ from under our noses.” Kol starts as he takes a seat at the table.

“By Nik’s sources? You must mean Elijah. But it’s nice to see you too Kol. Regarding ‘The Compound’ you and your lawyers were taking far too long with the negotiations. I just so happened to arrive just in time to help speed the proceedings up.” I interrupted with a sly smile, fluttering my eyelashes I took another sip from my glass.

“Drinking on the job are we?” He asked, trying to change the subject teasing me as I walked around the room.

“Just water. I like to have a clear head especially when I have my business rivals enter through my door.”

“What did you offer them?” He asked, propping up his elbows.

“You’ve always been a curious one. Alright I’ll tell you. They wanted a quick sale but didn't get the asking price they wanted however, so in return for the lower price I just kept all of their employees so the lucky souls now all work for me.” I replied, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

“I don’t mean to pry but what are you here for Kol? If you're here to ask questions then we could've easily had this meeting on the phone.”

“I’ve come to buy you out.” He stated.

“My my aren’t we feeling bold?” I replied with a laugh, eyeing him up and down. “But I’ll give you a simple answer. No.”

Flashing me a smile. “I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Simple psychology darling, because I now have a better chance of getting a yes with my next question.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” I asked tilting my head ever so slightly.

“Join me for dinner.”

“Why on earth would I say yes to that?” I asked, licking my bottom lip.

“I enjoy your company darling. And perhaps we could get better acquainted to strike up a deal for the future.” Kol replied, shifting in his seat.

“Don’t they teach you at business school to not mix business with pleasure?” I purred with a seductive tone.

“Whilst you were in that lecture I must have missed that one, so darling what do you say?”

“Alright you’ve convinced me. But it’s strictly business.”

“Course darling.”

Kol left the my meeting room shortly after but made sure to slide his business card over the desk his way of giving me his mobile number in the most subtle way possible, however Kol Mikaelson and subtle don’t go together one bit. Running a hand through my Y/H/C tugging on a few of the strands that had gotten knotted during the day. Whenever Kol called me ‘darling’ it did things to me that I would never admit to.

“He’s not changed since the day we met as business school.” I said to myself with a smile.

Leaving the meeting room and walking back to my office, I turned the phone to face me and picked up the receiver holding it in my hand whilst I used the other to dial a number.

“Hello, Salvatore Industries Elena speaking how can I help you?”

“Hi Elena it’s Y/N is it possible to speak with Damon please?” I asked.

“Of course I’ll put you through.”

“Eternal stud speaking.” Damon said as I was transferred to his line.

“It is really a good thing that you pay a whole lot more than to what Mason Lockwood offered me.”

“You love me really.” He teased.

“Sure it’s that and not the stacks of cash I get put into my account each month. Just checking you wanted double the amount sent over to the bar tomorrow.”

“It's the main thing I sell on student nights so I gotta keep up with the demand, any chance you’ll be doing different flavours in the future?” Damon asked.

“You’ll be the first person to know when I do, you can even be my taste tester.”

“Speaking of the delivery Bob-Bon will be signing for it tomorrow. Me and Elena have a OBGYN appointment.”

“I’ll be sure to let Ric know. But between working with your brother and owning a bar on the side I’m surprised how you even had the time to get Elena pregnant.” I replied with a giggle.

“I always find the time for those special business meetings, if you catch my drift.”

“And now I’m disgusted by you.” I said faking a gagging sound.

“C’mon Y/NN, thought you would have gotten used to my good looks, my style, my charm and my unflinching ability to listen to Taylor Swift.”

“Goodbye Damon.” I shouted and put the phone down and back in the base.

I moved the phone back in its usual spot on my desk and started to pack away my laptop and other bits I wanted to do at home, as I was looking for a marketing plan in my desk drawer I heard my office door open.

“What is the point of owning a phone if I can never reach you on it?”

I smiled as I saw my best friend in the doorway.

“Bekah...You know I have an empire to run.” I teased, grinning at her.

“And causing mayhem to where my brothers are concerned no less. You have no idea what I have to listen to especially when we have dinner each and every night.” She replied, crossing her arms.

“Well if they’re talking about me then I really must be making a name for myself, you should understand that being a woman in business isn’t as easy as it looks.” I told her, walking to her and bringing her into a hug.

As the two of us embraced in our hug, she pulled away. “Speaking of business. I have some exciting news.” She said excitedly.

“Your new line is ready?” I asked, sounding hopeful.

“Almost. But I wanted to get some promo shoots out for the public and I wanted you to be the model!”

I looked at her shocked. “Shut. Up.”

“I’m serious. You’re a strong woman in ever growing business, you earned everything you have today and what better person to have showcasing my line is you. We need to have a dinner date to celebrate!”

“Oh speaking of dinner. I have gossip, how about we take this to the nearest bar?”

Feedback makes me a better writer and encourages me to write more and often!

#fiftyshadesofmikealson #the vampire diaries #fifty shades spin off #50 shades of grey spin off #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #reader inserts #damon salvatore #Damon the eternal stud #Rebekah Mikealson

16 notes · View notes

heavenly-roman · 4 years

Text

Sibling Culture™️

Plot: A series of events in which Roman and Remus enact peak Sibling Culture™️

Warnings: swearing, mild sexual references (aka remus being remus), a lil bit of insecurity and sibling rivalry, sympathetic remus

Pairing(s): creativitwins, mentioned/implied intruality, mentioned/implied roceit

Word Count: 1634

if you liked this, consider buying me a coffee?

Taglist: @emo-disaster @shitpost-sides @gattonero17

(ao3 link!!!)

+++

The incessant knocking on Roman’s door persists, despite Roman calling for whoever it is (Remus, definitely Remus), to come in.

After another forty-five seconds of knocking, of which Roman seriously contemplates jumping out the window, the door swings open. Remus stands there, not making a noise, until Roman groans and looks at him.

His brother is t-posing - Roman genuinely considers closing the door in his face.

“What are you doing?” Roman asks.

“Simple.” Remus responds, keeping his position. “I’m t-posing in your doorway to establish dominance as the better twin.”

“You’re not the better twin.”

Remus makes an offended noise, and Roman watches him carefully. Normally, the younger twin would make some sort of offended or crude gesture. Today, however, he is unmoving. “I am clearly the better twin, as I am currently t-posting and establishing my dominance. Try to keep up, Ro.”

“Is that all you wanted?” Roman sighs.

“Oh, dinner’s ready too,” Remus shrugs and walks away, leaving the door wide open. Bewildered, Roman follows.

+++

H. Duke (9:31pm): roman

H. Duke (9:32pm): roman!!

H. Duke (9:34pm): romAN

H. Duke (9:34pm): ROMAN

H. Chandler (9:35pm): WHAT DO YOU WANT REMUS

H. Duke (9:37pm): i lost the game >:D

H. Chandler (9:38pm): i will END YOU

+++

Roman sighs and reluctantly knocks on Remus’ door, calling to him, “Remus, can you help me?”

“Depends,” Remus swings the door open, mischievous smirk gracing his lips. “What do you want, and what can you do for me?”

Holding out his notebook and textbook, Roman explains, “can you check that my answers are right? I can’t be in the musical if I fail math again.”

Remus gives him an expectant look, so he continues, “I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks.”

“Deal,” Remus nods and holds out his hand to shake. Roman shakes it, then hands the books to his brother, who promptly flops down into his desk chair. Roman stands anxiously as Remus compares their homework, hope growing in his stomach when Remus looks up at him with a soft smile and nods.

“They look good, Ro,” he stands, giving the books back to his twin. “You’re getting the hang of it, I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, Re.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Remus shrugs. “Now get out of my room, I’m playing Minecraft.”

+++

H. Duke (11:37am): hey beefbrain are u going out for lunch?

H. Chandler (11:38am): yes why?

H. Duke (11:39am): bring me back a cheeseburger

H. Chandler (11:41am): why would I do that??? you literally just called me beefbrain???

H. Duke (11:42am): remember that time I proofread your math homework so you could audition for the wizard of oz?

H. Chandler (11:43am): ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

H. Chandler (11:43am): extra onion right?

+++

Roman skips up the stairs, shrugging his backpack off as he opens his bedroom door. Flicking on the light, he holds back a scream as he notices Remus lounging on his bed.

“Ah, Roman King, so nice of you to join me.”

“What are you doing in my room, Remus?” Roman rolls his eyes and closes the door. He crosses his arms over his chest as Remus stands.

“Let me paint you a picture, dear brother,” Remus begins dramatically pacing around the room - it’s times like this Roman can truly see the resemblance. “You see, I entered your room in pursuit of one thing, and one thing only - your white crop top with the skull on it.”

“In the hamper.”

“Thank you. But while looking in your closet, I found something. Any guesses?”

Roman sighs, “Your green army jacket?”

“My green army jacket!” Remus pulls the coat from behind his back and holds it up for the older twin to see. “Anything to say for yourself, thief?”

“Remus, you literally just admitted to coming in here to steal a shirt of mine. I think I’m allowed to borrow a jacket.”

“Nuh uh, I have a right as your younger sibling to steal your clothes.”

“You’re only twenty minutes younger than me?”

“Doesn’t matter, still my birth right.”

“Fine,” Roman slumps down onto his bed. “Take the shirt, and wash it before you give it back?”

“You’re doing my laundry for the next week and a half so i think you’ll be washing it.”

+++

H. Chandler (10:03am): hey

H. Chandler (10:03am): wizard of oz auditions are today at lunch

H. Duke (10:05am): and? why should I care?

H. Duke (10:06am): wait wait I get it

H. Duke (10:06am): break a leg I guess

H. Chandler (10:11am): not what I was getting at, but thank you

H. Chandler (10:12am): you should audition

H. Chandler (10:12am): I think you’d make a great wizard

H. Duke (10:15am): ur hilarious

H. Duke (10:15am): absolutely not

H. Chandler (10:17am): why not?

H. Duke (10:17am): I have no talent

H. Duke (10:18am): you’re the one mom and dad are super proud of, remember?

H. Chandler (10:21am): Remus, shut up. You’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever met

H. Chandler (10:22am): you’re related to me, afterall

H. Chandler (10:22am): mom and dad are proud of you too, by the way

H. Duke (10:25am): fine

H. Chandler (10:27am): fine????

H. Duke (10:28am): fine, i’ll audition, but only to get you off my back

H. Chandler (10:32am): love you too!!!

H. Duke (10:33am): you’re also buying me lunch

+++

The auditorium door barely closes behind him before Roman is bombarding him with questions.

“How did it go? What did they say? How do you feel? What-”

“Roman.”

“Sorry.

Remus motions for them to walk as he begins speaking, “It went well, I guess. They said I was ‘very promising’, whatever that means.”

“Remus, that’s amazing!” Roman exclaims. He fishes his car keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, sliding into the driver’s seat. “This calls for celebratory milkshakes.”

“We only do that when you get the role, dumbass.”

“But I know that you’re going to!”

“Look, Ro, I-” Remus sighs, turning in the passenger seat to face his brother. “Don’t get my hopes up, okay? The audition… felt good, yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen you study really hard for tests and feel good about them and then fail, you know? Feeling good does nothing, and I barely prepared for it.”

The silence in the car was thick, both of them sitting in the truth of Remus’ words, before Roman speaks up again.

“Well,” He says, starting the car. “I guess we really do need those shakes.”

+++

H. Chandler (4:46pm): stop talking to patton, he’s my friend not yours

H. Duke (5:07pm): sorry what was that? I was busy getting my dick sucked by patton

H. Chandler (5:08pm): OH MY GOD

H. Chandler (5:08pm): TMI??????????????

H. Duke (5:10pm): kidding kidding

H. Chandler (5:11pm): oh thank god

H. Duke (5:13pm): i was sucking HIS dick

H. Chandler (5:14pm): REMUS WHAT THE FUCK

H. Duke (5:17pm): im kidding again

H. Duke (5:17pm): we’re studying, calm down

H. Chandler (5:18pm): don’t you EVER do that to me again

H. Duke (5:26pm): yeah whatever

H. Duke (5:26pm): i’ll stop hanging out with patton if you stop hanging out with dee

H. Duke (5:27pm): hE’s mY fRiEnD nOt YoUrS

H. Chandler (5:31pm): bold of you to assume dee and I are just friends

H. Chandler (5:32pm): but alright, I concede, as long as you never try to tell me about your real or imaginary sex life again

H. Duke (5:38pm): deal

+++

“They posted the cast list!” Roman jumps up and down in front of his brother. “Should we go check together?”

Remus grimaces, “I think I’m good, you can check it yourself.”

“Remus,” Roman frowns. “A wise man once told me to always receive news first hand, and that’s why he would never check cast lists for me.”

“You already know your news.” Remus picks at the olives in his salad.

“But you don’t know yours!” Roman insists.

“Roman.”

“Remus.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Check it for me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ Please .”

“Fine.” Remus pushes his chair out and stands. “But only to shut you up.”

“And that’s how you win the game, folks.”

Remus rolls his eyes and pushes past Roman who makes an offended noise and follows him. His steps become smaller as he grows closer to the auditorium door where the cast list is posted. Nervously, he asks, “Check it first?”

Roman nods sympathetically and makes his way to the door. “Do you want me to read it out loud?” He asks.

“Please.”

“Scarecrow: Roman King. Tin Man: Dee Lyre. Cowardly Lion: Patton Hart. The Wizard-”

“Wait,” Remus interrupts. “Let me read this one.”

“By all means.”

Remus takes a deep breath and reads the list, “The Wizard: Remus King.”

Roman cheers, and Remus joins in too. They’re practically screaming by the time they reach the cafeteria again, but no one bothers to stop them.

+++

H. Chandler (1:56pm): so, celebratory milkshakes after school?

H. Duke (1:59pm): you know it

H. Duke (2:00pm): oh and bring a mayo jar so I can put my shake in it and freak people out

H. Chandler (2:03pm): absolutely not, plans cancelled

H. Duke (2:04pm): :(

H. Chandler (2:08pm): ugh okay fine plans uncancelled but i'm not bringing a mayo jar

H. Duke (2:09pm): :D

H. Duke (2:09pm): and it’s fine i have my own

H. Chandler (2:11pm): not even gonna ask

H. Chandler (2:14pm): oh and remus?

H. Duke (2:15pm): yeah?

H. Chandler (2:21pm): I lost the game

#creativitwins #tag this as remrom and face my blade #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #implied intruality #implied roceit #are any of u surprised? i couldn't help myself ok #high school au #once again are any of u surprised? u shouldn't be #creativitwins fluff #bennie’s books

798 notes · View notes

oneofyatosfollowers · 3 years

Text

Unforgettable Taste

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843653

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13798454/1/Unforgettable-Taste

Gift for Poki!

Visiting her brother was always an interesting experience by Hiyori’s standards. Either he was on some sort of new “life purpose” or there was some event that she would never live down.

“I have to ask,” Hiyori said as she scanned the room, “what brought this on?” She gestured around Masaomi’s tiny living room. The space was filled with paper, fabric, and various photos of flowers.

“Wedding planning is a real profession!” Masaomi shouted from beside an attempt at a wedding dress. Hiyori set her bags down and the door and made her way into the new, yet familiar, mess. This was a classic greeting for them and she would rather learn about what she was in for than put her bags away.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hiyori tip-toed around fallen objects and papers, straightening up as she went. Masaomi sighed and picked the pins out of his mouth.

“I know, I know. I just think this is the one this time! I’ll make sure it’s stable before telling our parents but I can already hear mother’s disapproval.” Masaomi complained as he swept her up in a hug. They groaned as they squeezed then pulled back to share a smile.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Hiyori quirked a brow.

“Ah, yes!” Masaomi took a couple of steps back so he was in the center of the chaos. With a wide grin he threw his arms out to show off the room.

“I’m taking over my friend’s failing business!” Masaomi’s proud declaration was met with silence. Stopping the shout of outrage in its tracks, Hiyori held her breath. Her brother has had some less-than-intelligent ideas in the past. Ideas that have left him broke or in more trouble than he started. It wasn’t so much that her brother was too trusting, actually the man was quite smart, but he tended to throw caution to the wind all for the sake of adventure.

“Masaomi,” Hiyori started. Her brother flinched as he watched her fists curl at her sides.

“It’s okay he’s still helping me! In fact he does the majority,” Masaomi quickly explained, “We’re co-owners and I’m his apprentice now. I mostly handle the books, you know?”

“If you handle the books you clearly know how badly it’s failing! It’s one thing if you think you found your calling and you try a new thing. It’s another to offer to take over said business!” Hiyori tried her best not to growl, her glare was sufficient enough.

“I offered! Besides, the only reason it’s failing is cause he’s decided to settle down here and being a wedding planner means traveling! He’s really good at it and he’ll teach me all he knows! I’ll be able to travel while he stays here to be the pâtissière and the business will be back on track! It’s a win-win!” Masaomi said. He put his hands together in a pleasing way and Hiyori breathed through her nose. She had to admit it sounded a bit better but not quite.

“Doesn’t that sound fishy to you? The business is failing just as he decides to settle down and be a baker? And if he is teaching you then why isn’t he here?”

“He’s a pâtissière,” Masaomi groaned, “He teaches me after work. See, he used to do the whole shabang: the phone calls, the planning, all the designing, and the food making! But while he was studying abroad he picked up a kid! Now he has to stay in one place so the kid could go to school. Originally, he was going to ditch the business and open a sweets shop, but his friends in town own a bakery so he started working for them.”

“He ‘picked up’ a kid?” Hiyori stopped at that, “how old is he?”

“He’s my age! Actually, we went to college together. Do you remember Yato?” Masaomi asked. Now that Hiyori calmed down, he went back to work on the dress as she unconsciously returned to tidying the room.

“Yato? I don’t think so?”

“Yeah! He came over for my birthday that one time, he wore all black and kinda kept to himself,” Masaomi waved his hand, “long hair, blue eyes.” Her brother hummed as he tried to think of more things to jog her memory but she already had the face in mind. The name certainly didn’t sound familiar, but there was only one person at that party- in fact he was probably the first person she had ever seen- with blue eyes. Yato had been quiet, staying with the group and only really speaking when spoken too. She remembered thinking he was nice. Most of the guys Masaomi brought over barely said hi to her before partying. Yato had greeted her and was very polite when she was around, apologising for the noise and asking her thoughts on things.

“Really? He became a wedding planner?” Hiyori was shocked to say the least.

“Yeah, he’s a great artist and was always able to mend everyone’s clothes. He majored in design with a minor in fashion and started the business right after we graduated. Since cake designing was a step from clothing, he went to France and studied to become a pâtissière. But since he brought the kid back,” Masaomi trailed off and Hiyori was reminded of the other issue.

“S-still! Even if he has a business that he’s good at, he’s rather young to have a kid, no?” Even as she said it, Hiyori knew her argument was rather weak. Her brother was old enough to have a kid, and while a bit soon, it wasn’t unheard of. From the smile on Masaomi’s face, he shared her thinking. He let her stew for a moment longer before returning to the dress.

“Actually, he adopted a young teen.”

“A teenager?” Hiyori parroted.

“Yeah, his name’s Yukine,” Masaomi informed, “he was a bit troubled in the beginning but now he’s as sweet as the treats Yato makes. I can’t get either of them to tell me the story as to why Yato took him in. They won’t tell anyone.”

“Huh,” Hiyori hummed. She could imagine what moving to another country must do to a teenager, especially with some random new guardian. The whole situation was starting to make sense and she felt a bit bad from jumping to such a negative conclusion.

“You know, you’ll probably be able to meet him soon. Yukine is supposed to deliver Yato’s samples for this client’s wedding cake soon.” Masaomi said. Hiyori hummed and looked around the much-cleaner room. How her brother was expecting to have clients over with this sort of mess was beyond her but he probably knew she would pick up. Besides, she did enough meddling today.

“Well, let me know what time they come so-” Hiyori’s sentence was cut off by a door bell. Together the siblings looked toward the door. By the time Hiyori whipped her head around to glare at her brother, Masaomi already had a sheepish expression. The younger Iki stuck her nose in the air and stalked toward the front door. Hopefully she would be able to distract the newlyweds while her brother tidied more. The front door opened with ease, Hiyori looking straight ahead to see a blue bike at the end of the walk way. A bright tuft of blonde hair brought her attention down.

“Hey Masaomi, I got the cup cakes for you,” the boy spoke, “Yato said he would be by later than usual since Kofuku burnt the croissants again. He wants me to take pictures of your progress.” She couldn’t see his face as he rifled through a cooler on his hip but he seemed smaller than a teen. Though his voice definitely held that disinterested drawl. Once he gathered three square, plastic containers on top of each other and held them out, Hiyori was able to see his face. The boy startled when he saw her, someone clearly not her brother, and his mouth opened. Hiyori watched his fair skin bloom pink under his freckled cheeks while light-colored eyes flickered to the number on the house and back.

“Hi, I’m Hiyori,” she took the cup cakes, “Masaomi is my brother. You must be Yukine?” Hiyori smiled politely at him.

“Yes, um, nice to meet you,” Yukine offered, much more shy than when he thought he was talking to Masaomi. Hiyori’s smile stayed on her face as she watched him shift from foot to foot. He had on a bright pink polo shirt with a fancy ‘K’ stitched onto his breast with his name under it in a different font. It was only when he looked behind her, that Hiyori remembered the end of his greeting.

“Oh!” Hiyori stepped aside, “Please come in!” She let Yukine enter her brother’s two bedroom home before closing the door. He gave her a quick thank you and made his way to Masaomi’s workroom, clearly knowing where to go.

“Yukine! You made it! And I see you met my dear little sister.” Masomi left his dress to beam at the kid. He returned the smile with a dampered one before pulling out a camera to take pictures of the dress. Hiyori took a seat and watched Masaomi communicate happily with Yukine. He asked how his summer was going and his friends, Yukine answered easily while doing his work. Normally, Hiyori was embarrassed by how excitable her brother was but Yukine handled it without batting an eye. They must work together often.

“Oh! That’s them!” Masaomi looked at the clock and tsked, “They’re early.” He quickly scrambled to make the dress look presentable. Yukine put the camera away and closed the cooler, walking towards the back of the house. Quickly getting to her feet, Hiyori tried to see where Yukine was going but Masaomi running around made it difficult. Hiyori stumbled over the rest of the objects on the floor and side stepped a frantic brother to follow after him. It really was incredible how easily Yukine was able to walk across the room and avoid the chaos.

“Uh, Yukine?” Hiyori stopped him in the kitchen. The blonde looked at her confused, then embarrassed.

“When there are customers I just go through the back door,” Yukine said. With a sheepish smile, Yukine pointed to the back door. They heard Masaomi greet the happy couple. Sharing a look, the two were out of her brother’s house. Before she could follow the length of the wall, Yukine caught her attention.

“This way,” Yukine flapped his hand. Giggling, Hiyori followed him to a hole in the bushes and through the neighbor’s yard.

“He has windows all along the side of his house,” Yukine explained, “you don’t want clients to think that we’re stealing.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Hiyori laughed. The teen rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You have no idea. Yato doesn’t like me walking home late and would try to make me stay here until he was done. If I tried to escape by the windows, he would catch me every time.” Yukine said. He didn’t see the way Hiyori’s face scrunched at the thought of having to escape someone who wouldn’t let him go home. She remembered Yato, always dressed in black, with a bruise or two, and hoped Yukine didn’t always feel the need to hide.

“I’m sure he was just worried,” Hiyori tried. Yukine straightened up as they reached his bike.

“He’s always worried! He’s like a mother hen,” Yukine said with puffed out red cheeks. In spite of herself, Hiyori let out a snort, smiling at the thought.

“That’s good though,” Hiyori said. Yukine sighed and grumbled out a response, kicking up his kickstand but not getting on. At the same time, their stomachs growled.

“It looks like he’s gonna be awhile. Do you want to come over for lunch?” Yukine offered. He watched her perk up at the offer.

“Oh, uh I don’t want to impose,” Hiyori trailed off.

“You’re not! It’s a bakery afterall, we have sandwiches and stuff,” Yukine insisted. With that, Hiyori agreed and let the teen lead the way. They walked down the hill towards town, Yukine pushing his bike with Hiyori on his other side. She noticed the bike had silver snowflakes on it, similar to the designs she saw on one of Masaomi’s papers. The thought made her smile.

“So, Yukine,” Hiyori started, “my brother told me a little about you but he tends to embellish.”

“Oh, what did you hear?”

“Umm,” Hiyori tried to think of where to start, “you were adopted by Yato while he was abroad?” She noticed the way Yukine tensed and quieted. That bad feeling came back and Hiyori readied herself to defend the child once she saw Yato again. But instead, Yukine looked ahead with a soft smile.

“Yeah, I was. I lived in France with my family but my mom was from here, so she taught my sister and I the language. I used to hang around the college where Yato was studying cause that’s where my sister used to go. Once he found out I could understand him, he would give me pasties in exchange for me basically being his translator slash teacher. After school I would go to his house and he would make me what he learned that day or let me taste his homework. By the time he was interning, I was living with him.” Yukine spoke fondly, but his tone conveyed that there was sorrow.

“That’s really sweet. But what about your parents?” She remembered Masaomi mentioned Yukine was rather rebellious and why would they let some random student adopt him and take him far away?

“They’re both- out of the picture,” Yukine watched his feet, “and my sister met some guy in her first year and I haven’t heard from her since.” They were silent as Hiyori hummed and bit her lip. She pried too much and felt sorry for bringing up bad memories.

“Well lucky you, you were scooped up by a baker. I’m sure helping him with his homework was fun,” she smiled when Yukine huffed a laugh, “and you like it here, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. I knew enough about this culture. I just had to get used to all the new people and a new home. There were some other things but Yato helped me through them so I’m good now.”

“O-oh! That’s good, I’m glad!” Hiyori said. The bakery was coming up on the right, a square pink building with the name ‘Kofuku’s’ in calligraphy on the front. Yukine walked her up to the back of the store and chained his bike. They approached the medal door just as the building shook with a large boom and a crash. Frozen, they stared at the door with Yukine’s hand still on the handle. Only when he sighed, a loud noise over the shouting from inside, did Hiyori turn her focus onto him.

“It’s a little hectic inside. The owner is clumsy and tends to cause disasters in the kitchen. The mess from this morning was supposed to be cleaned, but who knows. Please excuse it.” Yukine said, his voice exasperated. Before Hiyori could respond, Yukine pushed the door in and entered, leaving Hiyori to cough through a cloud of smoke.

“Kofuku, why, why, why?” Someone weeped, “I told you to stay out of the kitchen! Look at them, my creations are ruined!”

“It’s not my fault! I finished cleaning your cooking sheets and I wanted to bring them to you! But when I passed by the oven I saw the same pies were in the oven and I thought they would cook faster if I turned up the heat.” A tiny woman with curly pink hair tried to hide her giggles behind a hand as she attempted to placate a young man on the floor. He was on his knees with his head down, holding an oven rack with five mini burnt circles.

“Chocolate Chess Pie needs to bake for 25 minutes before I lightly spray the tops with my home-made syrup and put them back in for 45 minutes so that I can spray them again,” the man raised his head, “I can’t spray these again!” He wailed. The young woman laughed and went over to clean his face with a rag. From Hiyori’s side, Yukine scoffed in disgust and went in to put his cooler away. Behind Yukine, a large man came from the front of the store and looked at the two on the floor with an eye roll. He wore a pink shirt that matched Yukine’s with the name Daikoku stitched on and light khakis. The man had slick back brown hair and brown eyes with peach fuzz. With a swift motion, he took the rack from off the floor and let the burnt pies slide into the trash.

“Yukine, you finish your deliveries?” Daikoku asked.

“Yeah!” Yukine said, “oh, and also I brought-” A loud timer rang throughout the kitchen and the young man, now with a clean face, shot up off the floor.

“Ah! My ham and cheese puff pastry slab pie!” He effused. Hiyori flinched when a whirlwind of white came barreling at her. That’s when she was finally noticed and the man came to a screeching halt. Letting out a squeak, Hiyori stepped back when he stopped nearly two inches from her nose and stared with wide eyes. They were just as blue as she remembered. But his face had changed, the narrow eyes fit better on a face with a sharp jawline and strong chin, lacking any baby fat. His hair also grew an inch or two since they talked, brushing over his ears and eyes.

“You’re,” Yato’s eyes widened, “Masaomi’s sister! Hiyori!” She was shocked he remembered her- when she didn’t- but the thought spread warmth throughout her body.

“H-hey, Yato. It’s been a while,” Hiyori smiled. He stepped back and they let out a breath of air, grinning at each other like idiots. Neither of them noticed the room watching them closely, the men turning pink from second-hand embarrassment while the young woman grinned.

“Ooo,” the young woman slithered between them and smirked, “My name’s Kofuku, I’ve heard about you from Masaomi. But I didn’t know you were friends with Yatty! What are the chances, huh?” Her eyes flickered to Yato and he looked to the side. When Kofuku turned that sly face on her, Hiyori felt her face warm up as well.

“Ah, yes, well, I only talked to him once at a party for Masaomi. I’m surprised to find him here as a baker, giving his company to my brother no less.” Hiyori gave a light laugh while Kofuku hummed.

“I’m a pâtissière,” Yato groaned.

“You’re a pain in the rear, is what you are,” Diakoku called in from the front. It was Yato’s words that caught Hiyori’s attention and she spun around.

“Ah, what about your-” Hiyori began. Luckily, instead of another smoking oven, Hiyori saw Yukine had already removed Yato’s creations and was munching on one as they spoke. The treats were a thin strip of bright golden brown with a fluffy exterior and a cheesy interior. Hiyori felt her mouth water involuntarily as they reminded her how hungry she was.

“Do you want some?” Yato spoke close to her ear. Hiyori yelped and looked at his grin with red-tipped ears. They looked at each other for a moment before Hiyori remembered he asked her a question.

“Oh! Uh, no, I couldn’t, they’re for the customers after all.”

“Customers?” Yato tilted his head, “Those aren't for sale. That’s just our brunch!” He laughed and moved aside so she could have a clear view of Yukine and Kofuku munching on the food. Even Daikoku dipped in to grab three before returning to the front desk.

“Well, if it’s okay with you,” Hiyori said. Despite her best attempts at tact, Hiyori’s feet were already leading her to the delicious smell.

“Yattsh foom ish always sho yummy,” Kofuku said around a mouthful. Hiyori hummed amusingly as she picked one up. She looked to Yukine- who had a bit more self control than Kofuku- munching on his second one. The only opinion he had was the pleasurable hum he let out once he bit into it, his eyes still closed to focus on the taste. Just to make sure, Hiyori glanced at Yato only to find him staring at her with an even bigger grin.

“Eh?” Yato coaxed. His eyebrows went up and he tilted his head towards the pan while keeping his gaze on her. Hiyori couldn’t help but snort and roll her eyes, picking one up. The pastry was just as fluffy as it looked. Her teeth sunk into it easily and warmth spread across her tongue. It was easy to let out a moan that didn’t have her embarrassed until after her third bite. A string of cheese stretched from her mouth to the food and Hiyori caught Yato’s eye over it. It took her more time than she’d like to chew and swallow the bite; Yato’s intense look made it difficult.

“So,” Yato smiled, “you like it?”

‘Do I like it?’ Hiyoti found that question haunting her for the rest of the day. Her time at the bakery was so fun she ended up staying well past closing. Throughout that time, Hiyoi found that she had been stuffed to the brim with food. Turns out Daikoku was also a baker, sticking primarily to breads, while Yato handled the pastries. They had a bread competition with Hiyori as the impartial judge, since Kofuku always voted for her husband and Yukine voted for his whiny guardian.

She had to admit, the local baker knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, Yato’s wounded pride caused him to present her with desserts to try, each more extravagant than the last. He even presented some new ones that no one but him had even heard of. In a single night, Yato’s pastries took her around the world, each absolutely delicious. Yet no matter how much food they gave her, that first bite was the one she couldn’t forget.

Did she like it? What kind of question was that? Hiyori found herself obsessed. Now she laid in bed, glaring at the morning sun on her ceiling, hungry for one thing. Frustrated, Hiyori threw off the covers and put on her slippers. She went down the stairs with a bit more force than necessary and searched the kitchen with a discerning eye. The sound of her stomping brought Masaomi out of his work space. He gave her a quirk of an eyebrow from over his mug.

“Were we too loud last night?” He took a guess. Hiyori sighed, she must have looked like she didn’t get much sleep last night, scowling with messy hair. Yato walked her home once she decided to leave -since he promised to meet with Masaomi anyway- and to make sure she didn’t get lost. They separated soon after walking through the door, Yato smiling and waving as she walked up the stairs. No they weren’t too loud last night, in fact she couldn’t hear them at all once she shut her door. The thing preventing her from sleeping was the thought of Yato being just downstairs. She would have done anything for a snack before bed with a cup of tea. And maybe to ask Yato about his time in France, his work, his kid, or his personal life.

“No,” Hiyori mumbled. She glared at the floor for a bit before smoothing out her brow and looking back at her brother. He was grinning at her, wide and knowing, it brought red to her cheeks. He said nothing as he walked towards the counter and set his cup down with a clink.

“You know,” he started, “the bakery opened at eight. We can go have breakfast if you want to.” Masaomi said nonchalantly. A zip of excitement shot up Hiyori’s spine and hit her heart. Immediately, the thought of a fluffy pastry held out by a blue-eyed man came to mind and Hiyori had to fight a smile.

“Would he even be awake?” Hiyori jolted when her brother smiled wider, “Th-they! Are they, anyone, awake?”

“Seeing as the store is open, I imagine someone would be awake. But if you’re asking about a specific business partner of mine, he’s usually with Daikoku in the kitchen by seven.” Masaomi finished his cup and left it in the sink, walking past a flustered sister stating he would be getting dressed and heading over there. Hiyori refused to look up from the floor until her brother was safely in his room upstairs.

The Iki siblings didn’t talk on their walk to Kofuku’s, the smile on Masaomi’s face hadn’t gone away and Hiyori wouldn’t look at him until it did. The front of Kofuku’s Bakery was small and cute, its windows covered in children’s doodles and some local flyers. A bell rang welcoming them inside, Hiyori walked across a black and white checkered floor up to two large glass containers stacked with pastries of all kinds. The familiar sight almost made her full but her stomach quickly reminded her otherwise. Kofuku was alone behind the counter, chewing on a cinnamon roll. She perked up when she saw them outside, trying her best to swallow the food in her cheeks while waving them in.

“Good morning you two!” Kofuku greeted, cheerily. Her words caught the attention of the people eating their breakfast at the small wooden tables.

“Morning Kofuku,” Masaomi smiled, “Is Yato here?”

“Oohohoh! Yatty huh?” Kofuku’s eyes slid to Hiyori and back, “For you or?” They stalled as Hiyori tensed only to burst into laughter.

“We’re only teasing Hiyori,” Masaomi said, trying to ease his sister’s wrath.

“You might be, Massi,” Kofuku winked. They shared another laugh as Hiyori’s body temperature rose. Eventually Kofuku took pity on her and reached her hand out.

“Yatty’s in the back, you’re welcome to go. Just be super careful of the hot ovens,” Kofuku smiled and gestured towards the kitchen door. Unable to say anything, Hiyori just shut her mouth and walked to the door, turning her nose up at the snickers behind her.

When the door pushed open, a warm waft of air hit her carrying the scent of fresh bread. To the left, Daikoku was hard at work in front of an old stone oven, moving around loafs with a large wooden spatula. His hair was held back by a white rag tied around his head, sweat beaded his brow and the exposed arms under his rolled up chef sleeves. As a closet wrestling fan, Hiyori could appreciate the image, but she was looking for something else. Off to her right was a tray of various shaped pastries, Yato leaning over them with a tube of frosting. It wasn’t until he looked up with big blue eyes, frosting smeared across his nose, that Hiyori felt that something jolt her heart.

“Hiyori!” Yato beamed.

“Hello Yato, Daikoku,” Hiyori greeted as she walked in. Daikoku waved to her before focusing his attention back to his bread. Yato stood as she went over to him, watching her admire the colorful baking sheets on the table.

“Classic fruit and cream cheese pastries,” Yato said, “Try one!” He smiled at her when she hummed. It would be impolite to decline, especially when she was so hungry and they looked so delicious. She plucked a blueberry one off the paper and took a bite, moaning her appreciation through her teeth. Next to her, Yato swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry.

“You like it?” He gurgled out with a cough.

“Mmm mm!” Hiyori hummed with a smile. Blinking once, Yato laughed good naturedly.

“Well good! I’m glad!” He grinned.

“Hiyori! I’m heading out!” Masaomi called from behind the door.

“Okay!” Hiyori replied.

“Yato, don’t touch my sister! Or do anything weird to her!” Masaomi’s voice echoed throughout the bakery, “if you do I’ll mix some of your salt and sugar jars without telling you and when you least expect it!” Masaomi’s threat did its job. From beside a bright-faced Hiyori, Yato gasped like he found out his father was Darth Vader.

“No! Why would you even think of something so awful!” Yato scurried to the pantry, trying to hide all his baking needs behind boxes of cereal. Daikoku sighed and shook his head, coming over to pat the young woman on the shoulder as her brother cackled and Yato mumbled consperiousys. Daikoku left the kitchen, only to poke his head in and announce Masaomi was gone and that he wouldn’t be allowed to mess with the bakers’ ingredients.

With Hiyori’s gentle coaxing, Yato finally finished with the frosting. At some point, he went into a long winded commentary of how he made the frosting and why he cut the fruit the way he did. Hiyori smiled throughout his entire explanation, listening to every word. Tips and tricks on cooking were always interesting. But the way Yato talked about his craft, so passionate and excited, there was no way she couldn’t listen. As they moved on to wrapping each treat in plastic, Yato asked her about her life. Things she did, things she liked or didn’t, her friends. It was then Hiyori realised that he was just as invested in what she had to say as she was. It was nice.

“So, where’s Yukine?” Hiyori asked.

“Probably still in bed like the teenager he is,” Yato huffed, “Sundays are his one day off from both work and prep school. But he’ll probably help out later anyway.”

“That’s sweet,” Hiyori said, genuinely.

“Yeah. Just in time for the croissants.” Yato looked fondly towards one of the ovens but Hiyori had a feeling he wasn’t smiling at the pastries.

“Are they his favorite?”

“No, but they remind him of home so I make sure to keep them stocked. Kofuku burnt yesterday's entire batch so I had to stay late to re-make them.” Yato spoke as he gathered the wrapped treats. Hiyori hummed in response, touched by the notion. The man got up early to work, stayed late with her brother, then continued making food for the next day. Kofuku perked up when they both pushed through the kitchen door.

“Aw, thank you Hiyori!” Kofuku said.

“You’re welcome!” Hiyori answered. She was lucky her voice didn’t crack when Yato took the rest of the pastries out of her arms. His fingers brushed against her and Hiyori realized just how good sugar and bread can smell. Luckily, Hiyori’s phone rang and she was able to excuse herself from looking at Yato’s backside and Kofuku’s smirk to sit at a table by the window. Her phone told her it was her co-worker and highschool friend, Yama. They greeted each other cheerily, Hiyori trying to keep her voice down while Yama only increased in volume. Through her friend’s squealing, Hiyori could make out that Yama’s high school sweetheart proposed to her.

“Yama! That’s amazing! Congratulations!” Hiyori gushed. She looked around to see if she was disturbing anyone, only to catch Yato staring at her from behind the counter. He snapped out of it when Kofuku jabbed his side and gave her an awkward wave. Hiyori choked back a laugh and gave a light wave back. Yama asked her what was so funny as Hiyori watched him scurry back into the kitchen. As the door shut behind him, a thought struck her.

“Hey, I know this is premature, but you’re going to need a wedding planner, right?”

“Ah! You’re right I will! Why, you have someone in mind?”

“Well my brother got a new job,” Hiyori continued before her friend could groan, “but it wouldn’t be him doing it! My brother would just be helping cause he’s in training! At the very least, I can vogue for the pâtissière.”

“The what?”

“The cake!” Hiyori giggled, “the baker?” She sent a silent apology to Yato as her friend hummed in understanding. There were a couple beats of quiet and Hiyori worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Let me guess, it’s one of Masaomi’s friends?” Yama said without malice.

“One from college. Did I ever tell you about Yato?” Hiyori was shocked when Yama let out a sound that had Hiyori feeling embarrassed.

“The one with the blue eyes? Who was really polite and didn’t seem to fit in at all with Masaomi’s friends? With the bruises and battle scars? The one with really blue eyes, like he’s albino but not, that contrasted with his black hair-” Yama stopped when Hiyori hissed out gibberish. Steam from her burning face seeped through the phone as she recalled her words from highschool.

“Yeah I remember him,” Yama finally relented, “he’s the only one you talked about when Ami and I asked you if there were any cute guys there. Knowing you, you probably forgot.” She could practically hear the grin in Yama’s voice when Hiyori couldn’t produce a rebuttal. Her friend reminded her of a certain pink-haired bakery owner.

“Well he’s a wedding planner, dress maker, and pâtissière. I’m sure he would be willing to work if you needed it, but it’s just a suggestion.” Hiyori said primly. The friends dissolved into giggles, giddy on the thought of a wedding.

“But seriously Hiyori. I’ll think about it but the wedding won’t be for a while! We’re sticking to the plan of Ami being my maid of honor, me being your MOH, and you being Ami’s. She’s still seeing that guy from her micro-bio class so you’re the only one left! Take the time before my big day to smooze that cake guy so you can bring him as a date! Maybe even get me a discount!” Yama’s declaration had Hiyori sputtering.

“A year to what? Yama, please, he’s just Masaomi’s business partner. I’m not-”

“Oh his partner, huh? That means you’ll be seeing him a lot while you stay there, right? How long are you there for anyway?”

“Well I packed for the month but my classes are online so, I mean,” Hiyori drifted off as she thought. She came here with the knowledge that she might stay past her vacation but med school was much easier when she had her textbooks with her. The idea of staying with her brother for the year just to talk to some guy was absurd. Not that Masaomi would mind. Plus her textbooks were only a couple hours away.

“Huuuggnn,” Yama purred through the receiver, “Do I hear someone considering it?”

“D-don’t be ridiculous!” Hiyori fought to keep her voice level but Yama knew her too well. Out of the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw Kofuku grin like she could hear every word.

“But you like him, don’t you?” Yama asked. She made it sound so easy. Like Yato was a classmate she saw every day for years rather than her brother’s friend she talked to for a couple days at most. Hiyori’s mouth worked for some excuse, some reason the idea was absurd, but all she could think of was she wouldn’t mind bringing Yato to the wedding. Yama would love him and he would make the day that much more fun. Even just going on a date with him was something she could get excited about. Hiyori was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see Yukine approach until he set down a plate of food in front of her.

“Oh, I didn’t order anything,” Hiyori said.

“It’s on the house,” Yukine replied.

“Huh? Is that him?” Yama asked, “Yato! Hey! Is that you?” Her voice was loud through the speaker and Yukine quirked his brow, the corner of his lip lifting.

“No! No it isn’t, Yama I have to go,” Hiyori spoke rapidly into her phone.

“Uh huh, sure. I bet it is-”

“Good bye!” Hiyori quickly shut her phone and turned to Yukine with a forced smile, hoping she didn’t scare the kid off. The last thing she wanted was him telling his guardian she was some weirdo that yelled over the phone. If Yukine thought that, or noticed her pink cheeks, he was nice enough not to comment. Instead to her surprise, Yukine sat down across from her with a plate of his own.

“Kofuku said to keep you company,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay! You don’t have to!” Hiyori waved her hands to try to help the equally embarrassed teenager.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Sitting here talking to you is better than trying to help Yato in the kitchen.” Yukine didn’t mean anything by his words but Hiyori still couldn’t help but worry.

“Yukine,” Hiyori got his attention, “do you, um, I mean you get along with Yato, right?” She couldn’t help but lean in with a concerned expression, her feelings about Yato still twinged with minor doubt. The man didn’t seem mean in the slightest, but relationships between a teenager and an adult can be rocky. Especially when the said adult didn’t raise them. Besides, who knows what happens behind closed doors. Yukine jolted back and looked at her with wide eyes.

“We- of course I do! I mean we argue constantly but it doesn’t mean anything. He’s, I mean he, uh, kinda saved me.” Yukine’s words quieted towards the end as he spoke into his lap but Hiyori heard him all the same. She wanted to ask more, but Hiyori figured she pried too much already.

“Well good. You don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to make sure he was treating you okay, that’s all,” Hiyori hunched her shoulders, “sorry, it’s really none of my business.” She looked up at the boy through her lashes, watching his mouth finally close.

“No! That’s okay! Actually I appreciate you asking. Some people just look away or don’t try to ask so, thank you,” Yukine spoke so honestly Hiyori couldn’t do anything but hum in reply. Whatever funk Yukine fell into, he quickly snapped out of it to munch on the food on his plate. It was only when he brought a very familiar cheesy pastry to his lips that Hiyori whipped her head down to her own plate. There, just as gold brown as she remembered, was the ham and cheese pastry she’s desired. Yukine looked up at her when she grabbed it much too quickly and took a large bite. Feeling caught, Hiyori covered her mouth and tried to swallow faster, putting the warm treat back down.

“You looked like you really liked it yesterday,” Yukine offered, “trust me, I know that face. Cooking happens to be that guy’s one talent and he’s really good at it. The best,” Yukine spoke around his own cheesy breakfast. They munched on their treats a little longer.

“I just wish he’d let me around the oven instead of freaking out.” Yukine rolled his eyes, but smiled goodnaturedly at Hiyori’s giggles. She long since finished her slice of pastry and she noticed Yukine was just about done with his.

“Um, Yato said he finished off a batch of croissants for you. I don’t know if you know,” Hiyori said. Yukine looked up at her with a funny expression.

“Yeah, I know. It was the first thing he made for me when I went over his house. I just walked in the door and he had a pan ready like ‘you were born here so you must like these!’ It was so stupid, that was the first time I actually yelled at him. But now he thinks they’re my favorite so he keeps making them for me and I keep eating them cause, you know,” Yukine was looking at the last bite in his hands, “They’re alright but I prefer the food from here. The stuff he makes for dinner or whatever. I don’t know, the things from home are just better, I think.” Yukine finished with a huff, shoving the rest of the pasty in his mouth. Hiyori felt her smile grow and her heart warm at the thought.

“I understand. The meals my mother makes will always hold a special place in my heart.” Hiyori smiled as Yukine choked and coughed in his hand.

“Yeah, uh,” Yukine’s eyes flickered towards the kitchen and back, “so, uh, how long are you in town?” His question seemingly came out of nowhere but Hiyori didn’t mind.

“For a while. At least a month.”

“So you’re just visiting,” Yukine tried his best to make it seem like he wasn’t prying.

“Well, it’s up in the air. I only came here to visit but there’s no reason I can’t stay a while. I don’t know, I haven’t decided.” Hiyori said. It was true, which was still crazy in itself, but the answer seemed to make Yukine more uncomfortable. His eyes flickered towards the kitchen a couple more times and Hiyori couldn’t help but look. She wouldn’t be surprised if Kofuku was still behind the counter with a teasing smirk but instead Hiyori saw the counter was empty. It was understandable, breakfast and brunch was just about finished and they probably had to prepare for the lunch rush.

“Are you sure it’s okay if you stay?” Yukine hesitated, “I mean don’t you need to go back to your friends, or your boyfriend?” The last word was forced out with as much nonchalance as a teenager could muster. He glared at the kitchen then smoothed his face out to look at Hiyori.

“No, I don’t live that far away and my friends are mostly busy so I can see them anytime. As for a boyfriend, I don’t have to worry about one of those,” Hiyori said. Yukine looked back from the kitchen and smiled.

“I see, that’s good then.” Yukine put on a smile. They chatted for a little while longer before Hiyori said she should check on her brother. Standing, Yukine cleared their plates, Hiyori tried reaching for her wallet.

“It’s on the house,” Yukine said.

“Oh no, that’s okay! You gave me so much already!”

“Nah, it’s cool. They give away so much I have no idea how they stay in business. I think Kofuku’s brother is rich? But, no, don’t worry about it. Everyone saw the way you looked at that ham and cheese puff pastry slab pie,” he paused when Hiyori made a face, “don’t worry. It happens a lot. You might as well get used to it if you’re going to stay a while. Once you get over one dish he’ll just make another, and keep feeding it to you until the process repeats.” Yukine sounded so done with the ordeal and Hiyori laughed. She was already thinking of a work out routine as Yukine waved her out of the bakery.

The door jingled as it shut, alerting Yato that Hiyori finally left. Really, he should have just gone out there and talked with them. But instead he panicked and made profiteroles, hoping they would pass as an award for Yukine. There was no way he could have known Kofuku would tell the kid to talk to Hiyori, but he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to gather information about the younger Iki. Yato remembered how sweet she was to him when they first met. How she smiled and listened to him when they chatted, giving him more attention in that moment than the entire party- save for Masaomi- gave him combined. But now he had his chance with the girl who didn’t seem to mind listening to his rambling.

The kitchen door pushed open and Yato quickly jumped to the sink only to find there were no dirty dishes. He grabbed a clean plate and got it wet, rubbing it in circles with a damp rag. Yukine walked in with their plates and placed them in the sink. Yato whirled on him so fast the kid flinched back, but his wide eyes quickly narrowed.

“How did it go?” Yato questioned. Shouldering him out of the way, Yukine got to work on the dishes, glaring down at them with a red face.

“She's single,” he gritted out, “and in town for a while.”

“Ah! That’s my boy! Good work!” Yato cheered. He grabbed the kid by his shoulders and shook him, smiling wider when Yukine’s blush stretched to his neck.

“That doesn’t mean anything you know!” Yukine pushed him off, “you actually have to talk to her! You can’t just feed her and have your kid go hang out with her!”

“Of course I can! Everyone knows the quickest way to a woman’s heart is with sweets and good parenting!” Yato sang, He easily dodged his kid’s attacks and Yukine went back to drying the dishes.

“So,” Yato spoke, “what do you think?”

“What do I think? About your chances?” Yukine scoffed despite catching on to Yato’s more serious tone.

“Do you like her?” Yato asked. Yukine stopped at the question before carefully putting the dried dishes away.

“She’s really nice.” Yukine said. That was enough for Yato, he smiled at the back of his kid and thought about a brown-haired med student. The front door rang and Yato’s head snapped towards the noise. Kofuku and Daikoku went to lunch so that was his cue.

“Okay! Make sure you finish your summer work! There’s croissants for you already in the toaster-oven!” Yato said as he disappeared through the door, leaving a smiling Yukine to fiddle with the toaster.

After a month or so, Masaomi and Yato’s clients were just about finished with their preparations. By now, Hiyori was aware that Yato worked fast, and with Masaomi’s help the wedding was ready to go in about two weeks. Hiyori stood in Masaomi’s kitchen, a large cookie tray covered with raw puff pastry dough, ham, and shredded cheese. Next to the pan, taped to the counter, was an index card Kofuku used to paint the titles of pastries in the casing. One side was the fun, colorful title of the puff pastry and on the back was Yato’s neat handwriting of the recipe. He had given it to her out of the blue, smile on his face as he insisted she take it just in case.

“It’s not like it’s a secret or anything!” He had said, “and I rather you use my delicious recipe than some naviance online.” They had grinned at each other like giddy fools, Hiyori thanking him profusely and laughing at his contagious laughter. She triple checked the recipe and it’s instructions before rolling up the pastry and brushing it with her egg mixture. Her brother’s regular oven would have to do as she slipped in her creation and shut the door; Hiyori set the timer for 25 minutes and waited. Feeling accomplished, Hiyori stretched her arms above her head, letting her pajamas rise above her belly button.

“You’re up early,” Masaomi said as he walked in. Hiyori whirled around and tried not to look guilty.

“Yep. I, uh, made breakfast!” Hiyori gestured to the oven. Her brother walked towards the tiny island and looked at the index card. He swiped it before she could grab it and scanned it over with a sly smirk.

“Made breakfast for who?” Masaomi held up the card, “this handwriting looks just like my notes.” His eyes looked her up and down as the blush on her cheeks darkened. Instead of looking at him, she glared at the evidence.

“He was nice enough to give it to me since I liked it so much. I made some for us and as a thank you I’m bringing the rest over to share with everyone.” Hiyori explained. The male hummed in an unconvinced way but said nothing more, making his way to the coffee maker.

“Is that right?” Masaomi drawled, “You got up with just enough time to finish by the time they got up to make the bread. Early, early.” Hiyori ignored how her fingers twitched. He sounded just like their mother. That tone conveying he knew she started this process at seven am, not including the prep she did last night.

“A coincidence,” Hiyori insisted. She ignored her brother’s second hum and started cleaning. There was a playfully-tense silence between them as dishes clinked together. Once she was finished, Hiyori made her way towards the stairs

“By the way, Yato should be staying late with me tonight just to go over everything again. He usually stays in the room you’re using,” the grin was wide, “if you felt like sharing.”

“Masaomi!”

As much as her brother teased, Hiyori really was nervous to let him try it. She knew Yato better in the days she spent doing her work in the bakery and Yato doing his work in the Iki home. She knew the professional would only applaud her efforts and that made her feel better. But her hands still grew sweaty as she stood at Kofuku’s back door with a container of this morning’s batch of ‘Yato’s Greatly-Fantastic Ham and Cheese Puff Pastry Slab Pie.’ Sucking in a deep breath, Hiyori chose to knock instead of opening the door. She’s never been here this early and- now that she thought about it- they were probably busy. Before Hiyori could retract her decision, the door creaked open to reveal Yukine, instead of Kofuku like she was expecting.

“Hiyori,” Yukine was clearly surprised, “good morning.”

“G-good morning, Yukine,” Hiyori greeted. He moved aside and let her in. She smiled at his school uniform and he adjusted his backpack with a self conscious smile. Daikoku was hard at work with several lumps of dough, tending to the fire in the oven every now and again. He waved to her, other hand covering a yawn. Hiyori waved back before her eyes automatically looked towards Yato’s workstation.

“Oh wow!” Hiyori gasped. Yato’s table was cleared to leave room for a tall, three-tier wedding cake. The pâtissière was creating bundles of roses against smooth white frosting. Hiyori knew that the wedding was themed ‘Romantic Pink’ so the buttercream flowers Yato made were different shades of pastel blush. The top was decorated with an edible pink bow that cascaded down the first tier while the bottom layer was covered in matching swiss dots. It was simple, elegant, and absolutely lovely for a wedding.

“Hey,” Yato poked out from behind the tower, “you’re here early. Not that I’m complaining.” He put the pastry bag down and gave her his full attention. Beside her, Yukine rolled his eyes and walked over to compare the cake to a sketch on the table.

“I, uh,” Hiyori turned her eyes to the floor as he approached. She felt Daikoku looking over his shoulder and Yukine peaking over the paper, watching the two communicate as best they could. She was used to this by now, they rarely had chances alone without people eavesdropping and teasing. But she found that as they talked more and more, it was easier to shut them out and be in their own little world. Yato’s smile was welcoming and his eyes were so warm, Hiyori was able to proudly hand him her container.

“I made the ham and cheese pastries!” Hiyori said. Eyes round, Yato’s face lit up.

“You did? Really? That’s amazing!” Yato rejoiced, “Can we have some now, please?” He practically wriggled at the thought, running to get some plates before Hiyori could answer.

“Oh, Hiyori made the breakfast thing! Nice!” Daikoku flashed her a smile that Hiyori couldn't help but return, “but wait, there’s not enough.” He looked over her slices as Yato got out the plates.

“Not enough?” Hiyori quickly ran the numbers, “There’s four of you, isn’t there?”

“No, there’s five!” Yato pouted. At first, Masaomi came to mind but Hiyori quickly noticed the boys were all looking at her.

“Wha- me? Oh, no, that’s okay! I made it for you guys!”

“But that’s no fun. What’s the point of eating your cooking if we can’t all enjoy it together?” Yato said. He looked genuinely hurt that she didn’t consider herself but Hiyori really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Still, she was touched, he wanted to eat her food with her; and flattered he considered this easy dish ‘her cooking.’

“Please don’t worry about me! I just want to know what you think,” Hiyori said to Yato. His cheeks pinked and Daikoku covered whatever gag noise almost escaped Yukine’s mouth.

“I’ll love it, no matter what you make!” Yato’s sudden declaration made everyone’s faces match the red velvet cakes in the front. Hiyori couldn’t take it.

“I-I want to know all your opinions!” Hiyori shut her eyes and winced at the strangled sound that erupted from Yato. She opened her eyes when Yukine let out a loud sigh behind her, arms crossed.

“As- entertaining- as this has been, I have to get to school. So I won’t be able to give you feedback when I eat it.” Yukine said, “I’m sorry Hiyori.” The teen gave her a look of regret. Hiyori waved her hands, giving Yukine a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Yukine! You don’t have to eat it. School is important,” Hiyori said.

“But I do want to try what you make. I promise, whatever you make next time for sure.” Yukine smiled with his hands put together. He was already expecting her to make them something again, how sweet.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“And don’t worry about what that guy says, he gets excited over junk food.” Yukine huffed, “n-not that your food will be junk, or anything.”

“Thank you,” Hiyori giggled. They ignored Yato’s cries of defense of his various tastes. Straightening his tie, Yukine made his way towards the front exit.

“Don’t leave without breakfast!” Yato insisted, “you need that brain food!” He smiled as Yukine gritted his teeth at his guardian.

“I already grabbed a croissant!”

“Take two! You’ll be hungry!” Yato’s words went without a response, but Yukine grabbed another pastry without looking back. The adults let out a sigh of amusement as the front door jingled with Yukine’s exit.

“I’ll go get the missus then,” Daikoku said, “she’s a real demon in the morning.”

“Oh you don’t have to-” Hiyori tried to say. But Daikoku was out the door leading to their upstairs apartment. The kitchen was silent and Hiyori was made aware of the sudden alone time she had with Yato. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet, the tense air picking up her heart rate and warming her cheeks.

“Do you want a fork?” Yato’s voice cracked.

“Huh?” Hiyori whipped around to look at him, shaky hands putting the pastries on the plates. Yato’s cheeks were flushed and he had a hard time looking at her. Swallowing, Yato pointed in a drawer.

“Forks?” He put on a crooked smile.

“Ah yes! Forks!” Hiyori perked up, “Yes I would like a fork, please. Thank you.” An awkward smile grew on her face as well, which only brightened the hue in her own cheeks. Yato was the first to sputter, blowing out a raspberry before snickering. He tried to cover his mouth, lips pressing together, but Hiyori’s snort had him cackling. Laughter bubbled up in her throat and soon she was leaning against Yato’s shoulder and wiping away tears. They bumped into each other as they raced to the counter, playfully pushing each other out of the way as they reached for a plate of food.

“Oooo, I’m gonna try it!” Yato sang. He waved the pastry towards his mouth like an airplane, grin splitting his face.

“You don’t get to try it if you’re just going to tease me!” Hiyori tried to grab it out of his hand, only for Yato to lean away from her.

“I’m not going to tease you! It’s really yummy, see?” Yato gave it a long sniff, “Mmm yummy!” He snickered as Hiyori let out another unattractive snort and shoved him.

“I’m serious!” Hiyori resisted the urge to stomp her foot as he smirked down at her.

“So am I,” Yato said. Their laughter died down as he put some space between them. Hiyori watched him bring the treat to his lips and bite. There were a couple beats of silence as Yato chewed, Hiyori biting her own lip while he tasted. Finally, Yato let out a pleasurable moan of his own. Hiyori’s body tensed.

“It’s delicious,” Yato praised, “three different cheese? you did it perfectly. Good job.” He spoke so honestly that Hiyori couldn’t help but believe him.

“Thank you,” she replied softly. They smiled at each other for a couple moments before Yato adopted a look of bashfulness.

“So, um, Hiyori,” Yato eyed the pastry in his hand, “you know your brother did a really good job on his friend’s wedding.”

“Wait, his friend’s wedding?” Hiyori asked. Yato blinked at her like she detailed his train of thought.

“Yeah, one of the guys from that party a while ago? Masaomi had just started helping me when he called your brother with the news. I figured it was a good chance for him to start, since the guy probably won’t get too mad if he screws up.” Yato explained. He watched her mouth open and close, then hum in understanding.

“I didn’t know that,” Hiyori told him. Now that she thought of it, that was much more reasonable than what her brother had explained to her. Leave it to Masaomi to exclude important details.

“Yeah, ha-ha,” Yato watched his thumbs dance with each other, “so, um, Masaomi and I are kinda already invited to the wedding as guests. But he’s gonna go as ‘the planner’ so I’ll just be a guest and I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me? Just to, you know, see how well your brother’s work goes and all.” Listening to his words was like riding on a rollercoaster. Some parts went fast while others were slow, the volume rising and falling. Once Hiyori separated his jumbled sentences steam rose from her head. In the midst of her embarrassment, Hiyori wanted to laugh. Here she was trying to convince herself to ask Yato to her friend's wedding only for the pâtissière to beat her to it. Still, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She had to push her burning face aside and look directly at his.

“On one condition,” Hiyori began.

“Yeah?” Yato’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Regardless of whether or not my friend asks you to plan her wedding, you have to come with me as my date.” Hiyori said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Yato took a moment to close his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, then his face split into a wide smile.

“Are you kidding? For a second guaranteed date, I’ll plan your friend's wedding for free!” Yato laughed but Hiyori knew he was serious. Still, she laughed along with him, giddy at the fact he agreed.

“Maybe I’ll even have you help me make the food!” Yato proclaimed. Kofuku and Daikoku finally came out from their hiding spot behind the door, snickering at Hiyori who was adamantly refusing Yato’s suggestion, all while the baker teased. Both their faces just as pink as the roses on the wedding cake, or the ham in a homemade breakfast pastry.

#noragami #noragami yato #yato noragami #yatogami #yato god #yato #yatori #Hiyori Iki #iki hiyori #hiyori #yukine #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

wolf-with-a-pen · 3 years

Text

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 1

TW: Death, Unreality, Swearing, Main Character Death, Angst?

Masterpost, Next

Tell me if I have missed a trigger warning, ask if you would like me to tag this with anything, and I hope you enjoy.

If you don't like any of the triggers above, this is sort of a prequel so you can skip to Part 2, unless you don't like angst, then it is even worse.(Edit:Looking at part 2 its worse, and you don't lose many of the above so just dont read it I guess.)

Word Count: 3962

FOR EDWARD it was a normal day. Well as normal and as close to a day as you could get in heaven. Everything merged into one- nobody knew how long they had been there, and nobody could know unless they saw the passing of the days in the simulation they called "Earth". There were few who remembered, and even less you could approach or talk to without putting yourself in danger. Edward was not one of these. They were unable to see Earth- or even anything other than the blank canvas created for the angels to roam, a few small civilisations created by the guardians for those who were more homesick the only solid thing on the landscape. Nobody knew why it was that way. Nobody dared ask. Everyone ignored it, hoping that it would not hurt them. It didn't for the most part. But then you could say the same about the Guardian Angels.

Cruel and soulless were the most common words used to describe the Guardians, and they were right on one count- they had no soul. Most people didn't remember the personalities of the people before due to most of the Guardians being the originals. The few that weren't were the first few to arrive from the simulation, to what they deemed to be "heaven". And so, the simulation continued. Even after death. The few that did remember the Guardian's original selves were so withdrawn you could not find them if you tried. They were the only ones that knew what happened to turn all of the people like that. But they refused to answer, they knew something that was so dangerous, if they told someone they would die. So, they didn't. Everyone wondered. Nobody realised that they would find out. Nobody could have predicted it.

It was the 4th of May. For once Edward knew that. But then, every now and then they paid a visit to one of the old ones. Just to visit, check in on them. Most knew one or two and how to find them. Some became friends. Some of those searching disappeared. It was the way it was. No, the day was definitely the 4th. He remembered that vividly - who could forget with what happened that day. It started as per usual- with Ansel being an idiot as usual. After being abruptly woken up, they managed to shout a few swearwords to get him out of their room, and laid back down. Well, as well as you can when you and your bed is soaked. “Again?” they thought clambering out of bed and heading into the bathroom. “I guess it’s one of the downsides of siblings.” For Ansel was his younger brother- not by much mind you, but he still enjoyed pranking and annoying his sibling at any chance he got. Edward didn’t really mind. Not that much. Sure, he was a pain, but they loved him more than they would admit. Once they managed to dry themself off (for the third time that week) they got dressed, and ready. One of the downsides of heaven is every surface is blank and almost certainly not reflective- nobody knew what they looked like except from other’s perspectives or how they remember what they looked like on Earth. Edward died long enough ago they forgot what they looked like. They didn’t mind though. It doesn’t really matter when you’re trapped in a void.

“Idiot,” Edward reprimanded jokingly, ruffling Ansel’s short wavy hair.” If you weren’t my brother you would be dead by now.”

“Is that a threat?”

“So what if it is?”

"You know you won't win Mx Long Neck. "

"Don't be so sure Mr Witch Hazel. "

"Now you have done it!" Ansel smirked, running head first into Edward, knocking him to the ground with his force. Within minutes they were both laid on the floor in a pile on top of each other, exhausted and looking rather dishevelled - no serious wounds beyond some of Edward's pride (as predicted, he lost). It would heal pretty quickly. It always did. Well, usually.

"You win this time, but I will win eventually. That is a warning." Edward threatened, smiling.

"Maybe, but not any time soon."

"Don't be so sure." Edward replied." You ready to go? "

"Yeah, just need to put the gifts in the basket."

"OK, I'll help. "

They stood up, Ansel springing to his feet, Edward taking more time.

"Hurry up, the quicker we leave the quicker we can see Jojo"

"Excited are we?" Edward teased.

"Of course I am, we only see him once in a while."

"Come on then, we've got a Jojo to meet."

It was an hour later they arrived, gifts and food in tow. It always took too long in Ansel's opinion, but that was the way Joseph liked it- to live on the outskirts of society. His house was out of the way, and cosy looking, almost like a cottage. It was short and thatched - similar looking to a Victorian house but in cottage form. Outside there were plentiful flowers, almost always in bloom. Having no seasons did have its benefits. Gardening was always easy and possible. Plants always looked healthy. Jojo (as his friends called him) took this to his advantage. A quaint little chimney was always spilling out smoke, even when the fire was off. Edward always felt at home and loved the little place. It always reminded them of their childhood home. Joseph himself, was an older man- he had managed to live until his body gave up of old age. It showed on his face- it was slightly more weathered and worn than some of the others and he looked like he had seen a lot. Despite all this, when he entered heaven he was reverted back to closer to how he looked when he was most happy, therefore he had the appearance of a teenager, twinged with some of the feature of an older man. He wore a wide brimmed hat on his mop of dark brown hair, which framed his emerald eyes. Always, he would wear on a short sleeved shirt with long trouser shorts.

Quickly, they walked up to the front door, eager to see one of their few friends- most people couldn't handle their personalities. Knocking, they heard Danny, Jojo's grandfather's childhood best friend and Great Dane begin to bark: clearly he was as excited to see them as they were to see him. Before Joseph could even get to the door, Danny had managed to open the door- one of his many talents- and jumped up at the pair, resting his paws on their shoulders and giving them a thorough 'hello'. "Hello boy," Edward murmured, in the way all people do when talking to animals and children. "I've missed you too.

"Danny! Let our guests come in! I'm sure they don't want to stand in the doorway all day." A familiar voice rang out, Danny instantly obeying, running back inside and sitting by the sofa. "It’s good to see you again, although the gap was a little bit longer than last time. Anyway, come on in, we have a lot of time on our hands, and a lot to catch up on."

"Thank you Joseph, " Edward replied, always polite as possible.

"Thanks Jojo," replied Ansel who was not.

Both entered the house, bringing the gifts and placing them in the hallway, before entering the living room and sitting down. It was how they remembered it. The sofa was opposite a brick looking fireplace and against the wall of the old wooden stairs, which lead to the front door. In front of them was a rug, square and red on the wood floor, with an armchair at each end. To the left was door, leading directly to the dining room, and to the right was a window, with an immediate view of the garden and the void around them. The rest of the house was a mystery to them- they didn't need to go in there so they didn't. Ansel secretly wanted to but he was sensible enough to not try to sneak around and see what Jojo was hiding.

It was a few hours later when he had asked. “What day is it Jojo?” Ansel inquired, “I assume you know.”

“Of course I know,” Jojo replied, unfazed by his straight to the point nature,” but do you want to come and see for yourself this time?”

“Would I!”

“If you wouldn’t mind it Jojo, I think we would both like that,” Edward inputted

“Sure, I don’t mind. Come on let’s go, heel Danny.” Jojo commanded, standing up and heading for the door. Danny sprung up and followed, looking expectantly at the pair of brothers, both of whom were excited, once he had caught up to his master. He knew he wasn’t his original master, but knew he was as close as he would get, and adopted him as his own, obeying every command. Edward and Ansel followed close behind as they set out on their trip. Once they left the house, Jojo warned them not to touch anything over the other side and not to get too close or it would alert the Guardians to their presence. They both agreed not to. Only one would remember. Carrying just a small picnic they set off, covering large amounts of blank flat ground in just a short time- they went through areas they had never seen before, met some people in the other civilisations before finally arriving at the final outpost, an intimidating tower and wall separating heaven, hell and earth. It was one of the only textured buildings in the entire place and was a distinctive shade of mauve that instantly drew the eye. At the front it had a window not dissimilar to that of a drive-through.

“Brought your apprentices this time Joseph?” questioned the guard, an intimidating but polite woman from within the window. Behind her was a smaller person, attempting to hide behind its short bob length hair, wearing clothes most of the angels wouldn’t dare wear (although they are allowed to wear anything, most avoid black and darker colours due to guardians not liking them). It was wearing a black shirt with a lilac ascot and black jeans. Edward hadn’t seen anything like it around the area, and for some unknown to them reason, found that comforting. They ignored that thought.

“Yes, I have,” Jojo replied, turning to Edward and Ansel. “Edward, Ansel, meet Biff and behind her is Isi, the recordkeeper for all of the people who cross the border. Isi, Biff, meet Edward Longneck Smith and Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith."

"Pleasure to meet you," Edward stated.

"Hi!" Ansel exclaimed, "You look cool!"

"Thank you," Biff replied, "it's a pleasure to meet you too."

"Hi," Isi timidly replied. "It’s nice to meet you. We don't usually see new faces around here. I have marked you all down, you can go through now if you're ready."

Joseph thanked them, before moving to the door and turning around. "Come on you two."

Edward and Ansel followed quietly.

Across the border was nothing like they were expecting or had ever seen. A spherical plain room, bright white on one side (the side they came through) and black on the other opposite them. In between those two sides, were the realms the demons and angels watched over, one that was instantly recognisable to them as earth, and about 3 visible other realms that none of them could name. Ansel was left speechless by the wonders he saw- a rare occurrence- and both could barely believe what they saw in some of the other realms. But most of all they saw themselves. For the first time in what seemed to them forever, they could see their reflection in the sphere.

Both studied themselves, memorising their appearance, knowing they might not get this chance again. Edward had a medium brown mop of hair, slightly curly and quite long, especially in comparison to Ansel, whose hair was shorter and a light copper brown, though it was still wavy. Both had brown eyes – Edwards a startling bronze-amber colour, Ansel’s a more chocolate brown, but still had an amber undertone that couldn’t be ignored. One thing Edward had remembered is why they got their nickname- Longneck. Both had normal necks, but Edward’s was slightly (honestly, quite a bit) longer, and to them it was noticeable. Ansel’s face was rounded, but Edward noticed theirs was slightly more defined. Looking down, they saw their clothing: white jeans and a grey button up shirt, with a pair of fairly plain dark grey trainers, that looked pretty worn.

At this point, they looked back to where their brother’s reflection was, only to be met by the abyss. “Look Longboi, it’s Ash!” They heard from behind them. “And she’s visiting our graves!”

“Wait, really?” Edward blurted out, shocked that it would show them someone they knew, and that they actually remembered them. Quickly, they turned on their heels and sprinted over to where Ansel was now stood, staring intently through the sphere. “Wow, it really is her.”

“I know, didn’t she hate us at one point?

“Yeah, but once I died I watched her and they appeared to regret what she did.”

“That’s good, she finally understands her actions have consequences, and not everything is about them.”

“Yeah. Shame she didn’t learn it earlier, I wouldn’t have objected to being friends with them, her personality was nice when she wasn’t being an asshole.”

“I noticed that too.”

Down below Ash was crouched down, placing flowers on the two graves next to each other. Their eyes were a similar shade of brown to Ansel, but her hair was a much darker brown and straight, cut at shoulder length except for a centre parted fringe. Black was all they were wearing, I mean it is typical of people to wear black when in mourning or to pay respects, but it was a change – most people hadn’t seen her in anything other than bright colours, and the two had never seen her in anything so not revealing as what they were. Instead of her old show-all-the-skin-possible outfit, she was wearing a dress, still short but more concealing, and it was simpler than the outfits they remembered. “I am sorry. I hurt you, and why? Just because I was jealous. I apologise for all I did to you, and I promise in the two years you have been gone, I have changed.” Ash stated.

“Only two years?!” They exclaimed, surprised at the lack of time they had spent there.

“Yes, only two years.” Jojo answered.

“Wow.” Ansel murmured.

“I forgive you,” Edward stated, towards Ash despite knowing that she wouldn’t hear. They turned around and begun to study the other realms. “Can you tell me a bit more about these realms I haven’t seen Jojo?”

“Of course Edward, which do you want to start with?”

Ansel had zoned out at this point, drawn towards the portal to Earth. “It wouldn’t hurt if I go through it. Just for a second to tell Ash we forgive her, and then come back. They wouldn’t notice, I mean they are distracted.” Ansel thought. He made sure that nobody was watching, before tentatively stepping through the portal. Quickly he said “I forgive you” and left before Ash could notice he was there. When he got back, he saw Ash looking around her, before quickly leaving, spooked by his voice. He saw Edward looking and knew he was in trouble, but not how deep he was from that one small action. I mean, it was harmless, wasn’t it? He re-joined the group and acted as if he had been there the whole time.

When Edward has a chance to confront their brother, it was an hour or two later- Jojo had walked them through everything he knew about the 4 realms, or as much as he was able to in the time they had, and as such left them no time to talk to him. It was on the way home that the had a chance- Jojo led them to a park before heading home to get a picnic for them, as a reward for accompanying him. “Why did you disobey him? He said not to touch anything or go into the other realms.”

“I don’t know why, I just felt drawn to it in a weird way.”

“I believe you, you wouldn’t lie about something like this, but just be glad that nobody else saw, if you were found out, you would be in massive trouble, not just with Jojo, but with the border guards and also possibly the Guardians. Be more careful. I don’t want to lose you.” Edward lectured, but that sort of lecture you know is for your protection- the kind that you know is sensible and are likely to follow.

“I promise now, nothing like this will ever happen again.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the “day” was pretty peaceful and happy- they ate the picnic, played a bit in the park, and traipsed home, dropping Jojo and Danny at their home, before starting back themselves, taking their time for once. That was one of the good things. And one of the few things Edward would remember. However, to Edward that walk felt like agony. They had a feeling that something very, very bad would happen. The kind that can’t be averted, only postponed.

Once they got home, they could already tell something was wrong- for one, the door to the house was unlocked and open despite being locked when they left. Second the note taped across the entire doorway was kind of a bad omen. Only one group of people communicated that way. If you received one, you were unlikely to return. Ever. Edward signalled for Ansel to stay where he was, before carefully walking towards the house, stopping just about where they could read the note. “Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith must come to the Guardian’s temple as soon as possible.” Edward instantly felt fear flood through his body, adrenaline joining it shortly after. “Ansel, they know!”

“Wait, what?!”

“They! Know! Ansel! They have summoned you!”

“No, they can’t. They can’t can they. So that means..?”

“I’m scared that the answer to that is yes.”

“No, I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to become like them.”

“I don’t want you to become like them. Not now, not ever. But if you don’t go it may be worse for you. You may end up gone with no hope of recovery. It is better you go and face the current consequences than disobey further and get punished worse. I am sorry, there is no way out- they can track you through all of the realms. I can’t promise you you’ll be safe, but I can promise I will find a way to fix this place, and save you, even if it kills me.”

“Alright. It makes sense. I still don’t like it. But it makes sense. Can we spend some time together before I go?”

“Yes, Ansel, want to go inside and watch some TV before you go?”

“Please.”

It was at this point they both trudged indoors, attempting to keep how fearful and emotional they were from each other, because both of them knew that Ansel would be lucky to make it out alive. That was the guardian’s way. Both knew this. The tension was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. If Ansel wasn’t so worried, he probably would have tried. But he didn’t.

“I am going with you,” Edward insisted.

“You sure?” Ansel tentatively asked.

“Nothing could dissuade me.”

“Thank you Longneck.”

“You’re welcome Witch Hazel.”

They set off, through the village. All of the people had seen, all of them knew one or both of them had been summoned. Most looked with pity. Or anger. Or disappointment. Or all of them. Or none of them. But they were all there. Watching as they traipsed into the distance. Wondering if anyone would come back. Wondering if they did come back – would they still be the same people.

It took a long time to reach the Guardian’s court. For the siblings, not long enough. Anything to drag out the experience, the walk up to the place they may not return from. It was a towering Parthenon-style building, built in glowing white and much larger than it needed to be. At the entrance stood 2 statues of what they presumed to be some of the different interpretations from the different realms they ruled of what an “angel” looked like. As they got closer they realised they were not statues as such; they moved and talked as if they were alive. Once they got to the door, they tried to enter the building, but failed. The angels stopped them. Pointing to Ansel, they boomed “Only he may pass.”

“I guess this is where we part.”

“I guess it is.”

“See you on the other side.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ansel murmured, before crossing the blockade created.

“Ansel, I’ll miss you,” Edward spoke out loud, as they watched him disappear from view.

Normally, Edward would have stopped there and waited, but today they felt braver than usual. Probably because they knew their brother was at risk, but they decided to return the favour of doing something stupid and reckless. Guessing from the way the angels were made, they were unable to move, and so as long as they stayed out of range of them, they could sneak in through the side of the building. Making sure the angels believed they were walking off, back where they came from, they circled around to the side of the building, gaining a view of inside the building. All of the guardians were in a circle around Ansel, who was looking rather like a deer in the headlights. Most of the people Edward didn’t recognise, but one they recognised from visits and checks on the village. The one thing the guardians had in common- their eyes were pure white, no pupil or iris. Apart from that, they were anyone. All different ethnicities, ages and genders. All different. All to be feared. Edward watched on as they all linked hands, creating a barrier around all of them, one that they could see, but not touch or get anywhere close to. Glowing white tendrils surrounded all of them, snaking threateningly inwards- towards Ansel. Eventually they all linked together forming a bubble around him that gradually shrank around him, disappearing from view, before bursting back out again. Only this time, the bubble was filled with a glowing ball of light, that blinded anyone who could see it. It disappeared into the sky, leaving Ansel laying on the floor.

Intimidatingly, a creepy voice boomed “Now you have lost your soul, rise Guardian Ansel and join us.” The body on the floor, snapped open it’s eyes, revealing a lack of pupil and iris, with a chilling look, before calmly standing up and facing the voice, which Edward could not see the face of. Floating, the new Guardian made its way into the crowd, joining it in standing to attention. “Now then, go find more suitable candidates, we need to expand the army if we want to destroy earth and hell. Soon, all of the realms shall be ours, and nobody will be left to fight back.”

“Yes master,” replied all of the Guardians in union, instantly setting off to perform their wishes.

Edward couldn’t look anymore, and they knew if the guardians found them they’d be in trouble, so they turned and left. Alone and hurt. No family left.

#Knockin' On Heaven's Door #tw death #tw main character death #tw swearing mention #tw unreality #tw angst #original content

7 notes · View notes

saktetsu · 4 years

Text

'LUST' Oikawa Tōru x Reader

Nekomimi, Metamorphoses, Adopted Sibling, !ncest, Mentions of Rape, Yandere Themes, Drugged

Today was the day that Oikawa Tōru comes back to Japan. He won't be staying for long, but at least [F/N] will be able to see her Older Brother once again.

"You look excited to see Tōru again" Her Mother exclaimed, chuckling softly.

"Well of course I am! I get to see Tōru nii again.." [F/N] had a smiled plastered on her face, as she waited for the Front Door to open.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Oikawa finally emerged from the door. He looked more mature now than he was back then. Without Hesitation, [F/N] jumped off the couch and ran straight into his open arms. It caused the setter to laugh from her sudden outburst of affection.

"Woah there [F/N]-Chan, did you miss me that much?" He teased, pinching her cheek slightly. Though she didn't care at all, all she wanted was to hug her dearest Brother that she missed so much.

"Alright, alright. [F/N] enough, let your Brother rest for a bit. I bet he's tired from the Flight" Their Mother chimed in with her hands on either side of her hips.

She pouted and eventually let go of Tōru with a soft 'hmph..' "Don't worry [F/N]~Chan! We'll be able to catch up after I settle in, mkay?" Tōru suggested with a head tilt, causing the younger girl to brighten up.

It may have been rude of him to stare at how her Booty Shorts would raise a little too high. Or how her shirt would squeeze tightly around her upper body. It's like she's tempting him to ruin her, to claim her. Even the thought of finally making his precious Little Sister his, had his tail straighten up from behind him.

Had she always looked this tempting? Had her ass always looked so plump and juicy? Whatever the case, he still couldn't fight back the urge to somewhat claim her as his own.

A few days passed by with Oikawa continuously bothering and hanging out with [F/N]. His personality didn't change much, but she could tell that he was a lot more serious.

Currently, she was in Class. Sitting along side her Best Friend Rinsuke and Sosuke. It was normal for them to Hang out before School ended. "Yo [F/N], I heard your Brother Finally came back from Argentina. How's that going for you?"

"Honestly, it's been great! I was able to catch up with him during the span of like- 4 days"

"4 days and you've already talked about everything? Sheesh, I'm not even surprised" Sosuke butted in, slurping his Milk quietly.

"Ya can't blame her for that though. They're pretty inseparable at this point." His twin added with a sly smirk spreading across his face. "Yer sure ya ain't got anything yer hiding from us Cupcake?"

"What.. Do you mean?" [F/N] asked with a curious tone.

"Ya know how he's one of those Nekomimi people?" She nodded. "Well for starters, ain't those kitties sniff shit that they own or somethin' like that?"

"And I'm also pretty sure that their kind not only possess the appearance of a cat, but their nature, and DNA too. Meaning they could sometimes act out by instincts alone." Sosuke finished Rinsuke's sentence, causing the other Twin to grumble by the sudden interruption.

"I was gonna say that Rin! Ya don't hafta butt in atta nowhere" Rinsuke continued to pout as his arms crosses over his chest.

"Whatever. But seriously [F/N], you've gotta watch out when you're with that Brother of yours."

"Pshh, what's he gonna do? Think I'm his mate? Sosuke, Rinsuke. He's my Brother, I doubt he'd even try to do anything but sniff me"

"Yer Adopted Brother" Rinsuke corrected, causing Sosuke to nod.

"Oh come on! Tōru nii isn't like that, I promise you" They both looked at each other and sighed.

"If you say so."

And just like that, School came to an end with a single bell. The Three walked out of their class together, waving goodbye to each and everyone of their Friends.

A few loud screams were heard from afar as they got closer to the exit if the School. They exchanged curious looks with each other before following the source of the noise.

"Oh my God! Oikawa-kun's here?! In Japan?!" One of the girls screamed out of excitement as she ran passed Rinsuke, Sosuke, and [F/N].

It startled [F/N], Oikawa had never picked her up from School before. (Due to his crazy schedule that was always packed with Volleyball.)

"[F/N]-Chan! There you are, I was worried that you might have gotten lo-" And there it was, the brief pause of his sentence as soon as he realized that she wasn't standing alone. Slowly, he pushed through his fans with a somewhat apologetic smile. His eyes narrowed, ear twitching from annoyance.

"Who are you?" The Question may seem innocent, but the tone of his voice was filled with venom.

"I- Uh- Rinsuke, sir.. And this is my Bro" Rin patted Sosuke's shoulder, causing him to flinch.

"Well, nice to meet you both but I must get going! And.." Oikawa walked a little closer to his relative, pulling her into his arms. "I'll be taking [F/N]-Chan with me"

Without another word, Tōru turned to walk away with [F/N] in his arms. She peeked behind her Brother, giving Rinsuke and Sosuke a small wave before they completely disappeared from view.

The walk home was quiet, yet Oikawa's arms were still wrapped around her smaller Figure. "Is something wrong Tōru nii..?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Don't worry [F/N]-Chan." She tried her best to struck up the conversation a bit more, but he gave either one word answers or stayed quiet. It felt unsettling, but [F/N] shrugged it off as soon as they reached the Front Door of their House.

"You better take a Shower right now" Was the first thing he mentioned as soon as they walked in, causing her to get startled a bit.

"Oh- uh- alright" [F/N] rushed upstairs and into her room, taking her clothes off slowly before popping herself into the shower.

Oikawa stayed downstairs, watching his previous games against other Teams. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the TV, he just couldn't. With the sound if the shower turned on, and [F/N] humming softly with the music in the background that she usually plays while cleaning herself up; it was hard to focus on anything but that.

Thoughts of her being exposed and freely displayed infront of him rushed through his brain. He knew it was wrong to think of her this way, but who was he kidding? He's fucking addicted.

The sound of the shower turning off caught his attention, meaning she was already done. Did time really fly by fast from all those thoughts? Either way, he couldn't care less.

She emerged from the stairs, descending slowly with her usual Home Outfit. The booty shorts he so feared that might break his last strand of self control, and her tank top that just fits perfectly against her body. It caused his ears to twitch ever so excitedly as soon as she plopped herself beside him without a word.

"Happy?" [F/N] let out as she took off the tow that wrapped around her hair.

Oikawa leaned forward, resting his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled her scent, and eventually his tail descended from its straightened up posture. "Mm" He hummed.

"Why'd you want me to take a bath anyways? It's not like I was dirty or anything"

"You smelled like them." Tōru simply answered, his nose twitching from her sweet lavender scent.

"Hmmmm" [F/N] shifted slightly, putting a bit space between her and Oikawa. "Where's Mom by the way?"

"Oh right, I forgot to mention that she's over at a Friends house right now. Something about a Girls night out"

"Oh- pfft, typical, I can't blame her though. I would have also missed going out with my friends if I was always busy" He didn't reply, nor did he give some sort of answer. His eyes were still glued onto her face, taking in her beauty that he missed back in Argentina.

After a while of silence, he finally spoke up. "You should head to bed, you have Volleyball Practice tomorrow right?"

"Oh, yeah I do"

"Which Position did you obtain?"

"I got setter!"

Oh? So she did end up becoming the Setter of her Volleyball Team after all. "Why did you wanna become the Setter so badly? I mean, you're a great receiver. You should have chosen to become a Libero instead"

"I know, but.. I really wanna be just like you Tōru nii" [F/N] fidgeted in her spot, her eyes sparkled in the sight of her Older Brother. She looked so.. Vulnerable..

He took a sharp inhale, before breathing out. He wasn't gonna lie, it caught him off guard. But the goofy smile spreading across his face showed how ecstatic he was knowing that his Little Sister wanted to be just like him. "Really? [F/N]-Chan! I feel so honored"

She laughed softly, before turning her gaze back to the Game played out for them. "Well, you're the Best Setter I know so.. Is it alright if you'd teach me some things Tōru nii?"

Oikawa nodded, his ego going through the roof as he tilted his chin up. "Now how about this, if you wake up early tomorrow then we could practice together before you head to Schoo-"

"REALLY?! ALRIGHT- I'll go to Sleep now!" [F/N] shot up from her position of the couch, raising her arms in the air like a child. He was startled at first, but eventually smiled softly.

"Here, drink your Milk first. that way you'll go to sleep faster" Tōru picked up the glass of milk on the coffee table, handing it to her with the genuine smile that never fails to make her grin. She uttered a small 'Thank you' before drinking the Milk.

Meanwhile, Oikawa was sitting there, watching intently. Would it be wrong to tell her someday in the near future that he drugged her Milk before giving it to her?

"Phoowee, wow.. -I do feel sleepy.." [F/N] settled the cup back down, facing her older brother with lazy eyes. "Can you carry me up the stairs please? Pretty pleaseee? I'm too lazy"

Tōru pretend to be annoyed, even letting out a small grunt before picking her off the ground. "Alright"

They both ascended up the stairs, with [F/N] comfortably in his arms. It was as if she was molded to fit perfectly wrapped around his fingers.

By the time that they arrived at the front of her bedroom, she was out cold. Her breathing was more even, yet her hands still gripped onto his shirt. "Silly [F/N]-Chan, you really should pay more attention to things you drink. I wonder if your trust for me would shatter if you found out.." He seemed to be lost in thought as he lowered her sleeping figure

Oikawa was shifting, not being able to contain his excitement as he eagerly took off his own sweater. 'Fuck, she looked so defenceless'

He lowered himself a bit. Settling his right hand on top of her stomach, where it slowly dipped further down until he was able to cup her cunt. "Fuck.. Already soaked Princess?" He cooed softly, before pulling her Shorts off. Oikawa took a moment to admire her current state, his fingers gently sliding her cottoned panties off. 'Wouldn't want her to wake up early now'

Tōru licked two of his fingers a bit, before slowly inserting them inside of her pussy. It caused [F/N] to squirm a bit in her spot, her lips quivering slightly. "H-Hrgm..~"

"Shhh... It's alright Baby Girl, Tōru nii's gonna take good care of you okay.." In all honesty, he was still shocked from the fact that his sweet little sister was still a Virgin. It excited him even more to the point where he pistoned his fingers in and out of her dripping cunt. The tightness of his pants slightly bothered him, causing the setter to quickly push the waist band lower.

It continued on for a bit, until he became restless. The pad of his thumb harshly pressed against her clit, making her jolt. "A-AHHH.. -" The lewd moan startled him, but he kept going at his pace. [F/N] continued to tremble under his touch, growing restless as she began to twist and turn in her spot.

He noticed how tighter it got, and more difficult it was to move his fingers. "Fuck.. You're squeezing my fingers like a Vice [F/N]-Chan.. Are you about to cum Princess? Come on, cum for Onii-Chan.." Oikawa continued to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. And eventually, just like he said; she came with a loud moan.

Without hesitation, he pulled her sleeping body up slightly, his back resting against the headboard. Oikawa settled her on his lap, where her cunt rested right on top of his Cock. He shivered a bit, feeling her cum dripping onto his hardened member. He let her lean into him as she continued to sleep peacefully.

As much as he wanted to keep her innocence, the desire to ruin her and completely claim her body as his own grew.

Tōru slowly lifted her up, wrapping his tail around her waist before spreading her cunt with his fingers. "I'm about to take something so valuable from you.." And with that, he dropped her onto his cock, causing it to quickly sink balls deep. [F/N] let out a loud shriek as her eyes flew open. Oikawa stilled his movements and let out a shaky sigh. It felt too good.. Way too good.

"Fuck.. [F/N] you're.. - s-so tight damn" He began to lift her hips up and down repeatedly, setting a steady pace. "I expected you to be tight but.. Wow- fuck it feels good Baby Girl"

It didn't take long for her to register what was going on, her Big Brother's dick sinking inside her pussy, his tail wrapping around her waist, it made her feel light headed to say the least. "T-Tō.. Tōru nii..? W-What are.. What are you doing? Please stop, it hurts.." She spoke in a soft tone, pushing her hands against his broad shoulders in an attempt to move away. But he was much more stronger than she was, and faster too.

"Ah, ah, ah.. Don't fight now [F/N]-Chan! If you struggle, it'll make me even more excited.." He said, licking his lips seductively. A shiver ran down her spine as her hips continued to move with his help.

"This is wrong- please stop- I-I won't tell anyone this ever h-happened.. I swear.. Just please sto- ooo-o.. AHHHHHHHH..!" Oikawa had enough of her babbling about how she didn't want any of this. So instead of taking it easy on her like how he planned. He began to buck his hips, causing a loud whimper to fall from her lips as she tried to continue her sentence. "P-Please Tōru nii stop..!"

"Fuck, I just told you that if you struggle it'll excite me more.. Are you doing this on purpose? You fucking slut.." His pace got even faster, and his thrust was more rough. "You know, seeing you with those Bastards really hurt me [F/N]-Chan! I thought I was the only Male in your Life"

The tone of his voice sounded as if he was genuinely hurt, she would have felt bad, she would have if it wasn't for the fact that he was literally pistoning his dick in and out of her pussy. "T-Tōru..~!" [F/N] moaned out his name. Somehow, it flicked a switch deep inside Oikawa.

Causing him to act by instincts. Instead of his usual thought out actions, he pushed her off, pinning both of her wrists above her head with one hand. His ears began to twitch, and the tail that he affectionately wrapped around her waist was now tightening its grip. "Tō-Tōru..!"

There it was again, it sounded like music to his ears. He needed to hear more of it right away. So without further interruptions, he began to spread her legs. [F/N] let out a small shriek as soon as she felt the tip of his member push against her folds.

Her toes curled, and her back arched. Tōru didn't care whether or not it hurt for her, his pace was rough and frantic. As if his Animalistic tropes were overpowering his usual humane self. He wanted to breed her so badly, spill his sperm deep inside her womb until she was a quivering mess. "T-TŌRU, TŌRU!" His name continuously spilled out of her mouth.

And no doubt, it made him even more rough with her. "Fuck! You're such a fucking slut for hanging out with those Bastards. should've known you'd do this from the start" There it was, his tip hitting that spot that made her see stars. She flinched, her moans getting even more uncontrollably louder. "Yeah? You like that? You like it here?" Tōru moved his free hand below her ass, lifting her up slightly where he could easily thrust up to her G-Spot.

"H-Hrm..! T-Tōru.. 'M Cumming, I'm Cumming Tōru!"

"Then cum, Princess" And just like that, [F/N] came around his cock. Her eyes closing slightly as she rode out her orgasm. But Oikawa didn't stop there, he was chasing his own high after all. With a few more seconds of him thrusting harshly into her abused cunt, he finally came undone. Spilling his cum deep in her womb with a shaky sigh. "F.. Fuck.. Yeah.."

His cock softened, but he didn't pull away nor did he move an inch. Oikawa rested on top of her, his breathing becoming even. "Onii Chan loves you.. You do know that right..?" [F/N] nodded, her lips quivering from the over stimulation being present.

"Use your words pretty girl, I wanna hear you say it" He caressed her hair, stroking some of his finger through.

"Yes, I know.."

"What do you know?"

"I.. T-That... Tōru nii loves me.."

"Good Girl. You do know that no one else loves you right? I love you more than anyone in the whole wide world" She nodded slowly, fidgeting slightly.

"You love me, right?"

"I love you" Despite being mortified earlier, she eventually snuggled closer to her Older Brother. Giving into his twisted fantasies. He felt satisfied with himself, pulling her even closer. She couldn't deny him, she couldn't fight. After all, big brothers know best.

#oikawa tōru #haikyuu #oikawa toru #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa toru x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #toru oikawa #oikawa smut

32 notes · View notes

maandags · 4 years

Text

counting stars (Finn Shelby x reader)

heh . ye

-- -- --

Summary: In which Finn can’t help but be attracted to you--like a moth to flame.

Word count: 9.4K

Genre: angst

Notes: CW: graphic depiction of injury/violence; unhealthy coping mechanisms; destructive behaviour - masterlist - makin myself sad here we go!

-- -- --

"Tommy's asked me to come to the races."

You barely look up from your work, pen still scritching incessantly at the paper. "That's great." You know you probably sound distracted, maybe even uninterested, but you can't bring yourself to care all that much. You have work to do, and it's already late, and you don't really want to get home any later than absolutely necessary.

Finn puts his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, loitering next to your desk. Then his fingers are tapping a nervous rhythm on his thigh, then he's running them through his hair, then they're running along the edge of your chair and it's getting so distracting that you can't concentrate on your work anymore.

You firmly set your pen down, straightening your back and cracking your jaw. "What is it?"

He looks down at you, eyes a little wider than usual; his hands drop to his sides and still. "Nothing."

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your pen again. "You're a shit liar. It's almost eight, what are you still doing here?"

It sounds a little pathetic, you think. The very reason why you're still busting your ass at eight in the evening is the very same as the one which dictates that Finn Shelby–your boss Tommy Shelby's little brother–can get up and leave whenever he wants.

You decided yourself that you wanted to stay later today. So that maybe, just maybe, you would get a day off soon. Sure, working for Shelby Company Ltd. certainly isn't the worst, and the pay is decent; but you're slaving over your desk from seven A.M. to six P.M. and even then you often work overtime. Because you're practically the youngest. Because you aren't intimidating. Because you keep quiet and do what you're told, your teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

And here is Finn Shelby, staring at the sole lamp illuminating your work and informing you that his brother has finally invited him to a race. Good for him. You didn't know what he expected you to say–so you just didn't say anything.

Then, suddenly, "Why are you still here?"

You snort out a laugh. "Some of us need to actually work to get by, Finn-boy." The nickname sounds weird when you say it, but that might just be your bitter tone.

"I work."

"You sit on your ass in your office on your nice and comfortable leather chair and get whores delivered to you at lunch. You don't work." Around the body of your pen, your knuckles turn white. The tip feels fragile all of a sudden, like it could snap any moment. Carefully, you set it down on its holder. Breathe. "I'm going home."

Finn blinks, lets you pass him, then seems to realise that he wanted to say something. "Wait. Wait, Y/N, hang on.” He takes your wrist, and before your brain can properly process it and gauge an appropriate reaction you’ve ripped it from his grip. Finn’s breath hitches and he purses his lips and you feel a little bad–but only a little.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come too.”

You snort. “To the races?” He nods. “With you?” He nods again. You shake your head. “Finn, I don’t think I can afford a day off work.” It’s not a lie–not really–but it’s not the whole truth, either. It wouldn’t work, you remind yourself. It would never work.

You’ve noticed the way Finn looks at you when he thinks you can’t see him. You’re not blind; and he isn’t subtle about it. But you know it would be a bad idea. It would do nothing good–it would end in tears and sorrow. Inevitably.

And here he is practically asking you out on a date, and you’re trying to let him down as gently as you can.

“Fuck work,” he says, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from growling in frustration. “I can make sure you’ll get paid anyway. It is a certain branch of work, after all.”

You scoff. “A branch of work in which you and your brothers strut around like proud fucking peacocks, intimidating anyone who even thinks about approaching you, wearing your gun holsters like jewellery. In which my job is to look dainty and pretty by your side and make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Finn’s cheeks have coloured and you shake your head again. A pang of pity bursts in your chest, and you force yourself to lay a hand on his arm–though your fingers tremble with the effort. “I’m sorry, Finn,” you say, tone gentler now. “But it just isn’t for me.”

You aren’t for me.

With that, you tug your scarf around your neck and step out the door, casting your gaze down to protect your eyes from the shrieking wind.

And it’s not that you don’t want to. Because you know that Finn is a good man, beneath all the cockiness and arrogance he seems to build his personality off of. You know that under it all, Finn is just a kid trying to live up to the legends his older brothers have written out.

It’s not that you don’t want to–because you know you do, oh god you do–but it’s that Finn doesn’t deserve what you would do to him.

He’s still just a kid, and despite being almost the same age, you’re not.

He’s been protected all his life, and you lost all protection you once had from anyone years ago.

He’s always had it all, you have had to fight tooth and nail to get where you are now, and it’s made you into something else. Something rough and calloused and bitter and angry, oh so angry.

And Finn doesn’t deserve that.

You share your flat with two men. They’ve never tried anything with you, and you appreciate it, as long as you don’t have to see their faces for any longer than you strictly have to. The little living room is always too crowded, even when it’s empty save for you; the walls are so thin you can hear everything that goes on in either of their bedrooms. The flat feels stuffy and too small and it’s not unusual for you to spend a night out–whether it be on the streets, on a roof, on the docks. Somewhere outside where you have air to breathe, as polluted and grey as it might be.

Tonight, though, you decide to stop by your flat to grab a change of clothes and quickly wash your face. A freshly made sandwich lies on your pillow and you snatch it up and rip out a bite. When you zip out into the hallway again, you stop by your flatmate’s door and give it a sharp knock–your way of saying thanks without having to say anything.

The only time you ever really feel something resembling peace is when you look up at the vast night sky and can make out stars.

It’s hard in the city, and it gets harder every night, but this time it seems the universe has granted you one night where the sky is so clear that pinpricks of stars are visible against its blackness; and you lie down, munching on the last of your sandwich, feeling grateful for the fact that even if shit’s hard right now–even if you have to bust your ass for 12 hours a day only to get barely enough money for you to live off of–the sky and its stars will always be there for you on particularly hard nights.

You would like to live somewhere in the countryside when all of this is over, you muse. Somewhere you can see the stars every night. You’ve heard that the sky is even more beautiful in the countryside because of the lack of light pollution. It sounds peaceful, and fuck knows that peace is something you desperately need.

The roof you chose this night isn’t that far from your flat, and it’s not particularly high up. There’s nothing special about it, nothing that would justify your choice to camp out in this particular spot. It just felt right. You try to empty your head, focus on nothing but the twinkling above.

You don’t know when exactly you fall asleep, but you wake up early enough to see the sun rise over the rooftops and as you watch, squinting against the brightness of the sunlight after a dark night, your arms curled around your knees and your cheek pressed against the still-warm bricks of a chimney, you repeat the promise you’ve been making to yourself every day for as long as you can remember; Today will be better.

There has yet to be a day where you can say with confidence that you kept it.

– – –

Nobody looks up strange when you walk into work early–again. The office has only just opened, and here you come barreling through the door, plopping down at your desk and immediately bending over the new pile of papers left there overnight. After a while, you frown. The stack is smaller than it usually is–and while that would be a source of good news to anyone else, all it makes you do is worry about not having enough work to pass the time. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you tap your pen on the side of your desk, internally debating. Then you give a little growl and scrape your chair back, ignoring the glares you’re getting from your co-workers, and stomp towards your boss’ office.

“You could’ve at least knocked,” says Tommy as you march through the doorway. He’s wearing his glasses, and he patiently plucks them off his nose and places the palms of his hands perfectly against one another. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t know why Tommy has taken such a liking to you. You don’t know why Tommy lets you get away with as much as he does; you don’t know why he only frowns at you over something that would get literally anyone else fired on the spot (along with a nicely formulated threat to stay away from his company or else); you don’t know why he keeps you around at all. You’ve had your fair share of outbursts, both in his office and outside of it. You’ve broken your fair share of fancy teacups, had your fair share of breakdowns in front of him, even told him to his face you quit only to come back into work the next morning like nothing happened.

He’s just always been so patient with you. Like a parent would be patient with their child, or a brother with his younger sibling.

And you don’t know how to feel about it.

“I just want to know why you cut my workload in half?” It comes out snappier than you intended (as most of your words do), and you clamp your mouth shut, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “I mean–if you don’t think I can handle it or something, that’s not something you should be worried about, because I know I can–”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” he says, waving a hand about and in front of his face. “I just want to make sure you’re done early so you can get ready for tonight.”

You scowl. “What’s tonight?”

Tommy’s eyes twinkle. “Well, Finn might have mentioned I invited him to the races–”

“And he asked me to go with him and I told him no,” you growl. “I told him no. So can I get my normal workload back?”

“No,” says Tommy, voice level as ever, eyes kind and patient as ever. “Because you won’t be going as Finn’s date. You’ll be going as my assistant.”

Ah. Now that’s a little more interesting. You cross your arms, dip your chin onto your chest, but your interest is grudgingly piqued and you know Tommy knows. “And what will that entail?”

He shrugs, sitting back in his chair, able to relax now that he’s got your attention. “Mostly observing, taking notes. I want you to know everything that’s going on at all times, because I might be busy doing… other stuff, and I still want to be able to tell which bastards are where at what moment.”

You nod, slowly. “And will I be involved in this other stuff?”

“If I can help it, you will absolutely not be involved in the other stuff.”

Biting your lip, you consider his words. It doesn’t sound like that much trouble. It certainly sounds less boring than a normal day at work.

Then Tommy says, “You’ll get extra pay, of course,” and you know you’ve practically already accepted.

But there is still a question nagging at the back of your mind. “Why’d you ask me?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean–why me? There are so many other people who would do a fine job, who you know a lot better than you know me, who aren’t as–” –you wave your hands about, trying to find the right word– “–explosive as I can be. I’m a liability, especially in situations as delicate as this.”

You’re not trying to convince him to take back his proposal; you only want to make sure he knows what he’s getting himself into.

But he smiles calmly, in that calculated way of his, and you almost roll your eyes because of course he’s calm and collected and calculated–he’s Tommy fucking Shelby. “Y/N, I’m more than familiar with explosive.”

It’s true, but you’re still hesitant, and you can’t really figure out why. Because there doesn’t really seem to be any reason for you to deny this offer; granted, it’s a little different from your usual work, but you are observant and relaying information to your boss is what you do on a daily basis anyway.

And besides, it’s the races. Everybody likes the races.

“So which tables are ours?”

Tommy already led you around the track, pointing out which horse was his, whispering under his breath what you needed to write down, taking you for what looked like a jolly stroll around the track but what in reality felt more like an intelligence gathering mission. You liked it, though, you had to admit; there was a certain thrill to it all. Knowing that the race is fixed; that the result is inevitable, that you know exactly which horse is set up to win and which to lose.

Tommy discreetly points to a couple of booths. “That one, that one… and also there.” You jot their numbers down, eyeing the surroundings, scanning the crowd at their perimeter for anyone suspicious. A few men immediately stand out to you: the ones that seem stiff, constantly looking around them like predators hunting for prey, stalking around in loose circles around a certain betting table and watching the progress.

"Coppers," Tommy says when you inquire about the men. He frowns. "At least, I think they're coppers. Plain clothed men, by the looks of it; they're just making sure everything runs smoothly. Don't think we don't need to worry much about them." But something about the men rubs you the wrong way, and every time your gaze passes across one the uneasy feeling grows stronger.

But you have a job to do, and so you shake the weird policemen from your thoughts and focus completely on the job–the delicate, sensitive job.

"All right, Y/N," says Tommy when your introductory round draws to a close. "You stay close to the tables, peek over their shoulders, take notes, make them uncomfortable. Make sure you know everything that's going on at all times, yeah? If anything looks suspicious to you, come to me immediately. Hear me? To me. Not John, not Arthur, not fucking Finn. Me."

You cock your head, shifting your weight from one hip to the other. "How do you know I won't tamper with the bets and make off with a nice bit of money for myself?"

"I don't, but I also don't think you're stupid enough to do that."

"You're going to have to trust me, then. That's a bad idea."

"Don't get comfortable. I absolutely do not trust you."

"But you picked me for this job," you press again, because it's still so intriguing to you.

"Indeed I did. Don't make me regret it." He lights a cigarette and marches off, calling his boys to him as he does. You cross your arms again and watch as his brothers sidle up to him. John and Arthur are there, and so is Finn. You knew he was going to be here, of course; he was the one who invited you in the first place, but seeing him walk next to his brothers, able to pinpoint exactly the guns and knives strapped to their chests and hips, you can’t help but compare the four men. It’s easy to tell that Finn doesn’t do this often: there’s a weirdly excited spring in his step.

You have to fight the urge to scoff, and you turn away, shaking your head. Oh, yay, let’s go to the races and shoot everyone who stands in the way of our illegal betting tables. We’ll have a blast!

For the first few hours, you do exactly as Tommy told you. You take notes, hover around the Blinders’ betting tables, keeping an eye on any skimming of money that might be going on; but the Peaky Blinders look like they’ve made their impression on the table boys because they’re doing their jobs perfectly, arranging the money and taking names in a way that’s more organised that you’ve ever seen anything run by the Peaky Blinders being executed.

You get a few questioning (if not outright hostile) looks from bystanders, pick up a few whispers from betters irritated at how you’re cutting in line and no one seems to care, but you ignore them, brandishing your clipboard like a shield and critically examining every single transaction that’s being made. The other tables progress the exact same way, and when the first races start, the crowds only thicken.

But after a moment, you grow bored. You get to watch the races for a while, from a distance, making sure Tommy won’t be able to see you if he were to look around the track, and listening to the commentary that blasts from high-up speakers and makes the air sizzle with tension. The crowds are mostly watching the races now, women speaking closely behind their hats and gloves and pretty dresses; the men more interested in the various betting pools that are scattered around the tracks. Every once in a while, you look back to your own tables, determine everything is going all right, and turn back to the far more interesting horse races unfolding in front of you.

When Tommy’s horse is brought out–its name is Elizabeth, and you roll your eyes–you perk up. Now is the time to keep an eye on the tables. Dragging a chair next to the boy at the first one, you rip the lid off your pen and mumble, “Talk to me.” He gives you the information you need to know: clear, concise, not beating around the bush. You wonder if Tommy warned them about your complete lack of patience and inability to take bullshit.

You’re almost starting to run out of paper, but as you’re making your way to the last table, you notice the coppers again.

Before, you’d thought they were circling Tommy’s betting tables. Now, you realise that they’re not interested in his tables–they’re interested in the man himself.

You can see Tommy standing in his booth, cigarette smoke curling up and around the rim of his cap as he keeps a keen eye on his Elizabeth down on the tracks; around him are stationed a few plain-clothed Peaky boys. You can see the barrels of their pistols glinting in the sunlight. Your gaze shifts upward, to the watchtowers set up around the perimeter, to the roofs; and sure enough, a couple of boys with long-range rifles are scanning the crowd like hawks. Their tell-tale caps hide their faces, but it’s clear enough that they’re some of Tommy’s men. You imagine Finn is probably up there, too: Tommy always gives him a sniper position if he thinks the situation’s about to get messy, to make sure he stays mostly out of the carnage.

And all around them–almost everywhere, you realise with a start, mingling with the audience–there are men watching them. They don’t look any different from the members of the audience they’re trying so hard to imitate, but whereas the real public looks excited and cheers the horses on and look like they’re having the time of their lives, these men are stoic, and again they remind you of predators stalking round their unsuspecting prey in the most discrete way.

It should set you on edge. It should make you uncomfortable, knowing that because you’re here as Tommy’s associate, it’s safe to assume you’ll be in the line of fire if things get messy. But it doesn’t.

It gives you an adrenaline rush. You suddenly feel like you’re on the run again; except this time your life isn’t the only one on the line.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flash of movement.

It’s barely a flicker, but as you whip your head around and strain your neck you can just make out a tussle: one boy–if it’s one of Tommy’s men, he’s lost his cap, and after a quick search of the ground below him you can make out a small, crumpled grey heap on the stone, and your suspicions are confirmed–wrestling against three men, all bigger, all beefier, all stronger. He doesn’t stand a chance, of course, and after one particularly vicious punch in the gut he crumbles. The two other men hold him up by his arms. The one who punched him spits in his face, then shakes his head and gestures for the others to follow him.

When the battered Peaky boy looks up, chest heaving, your eyebrows shoot up. It’s that familiar mop of brown hair (usually well-kept, like everything else about him–now it’s messy and tousled, as if he’d been dragged head first across a grass field). It’s the freckled face, the thin lips twisted into a pained snarl; the eyes so full of life you’d grown partial to–enough to recognise him from a hundred yards away. Finn.

With a frown, your gaze snaps back up to the sniper posts you spotted just before; and sure enough, a watchtower is empty. Back to Finn, and you give a short, irritated sigh. Of course the men relieved him of his rifle. You don’t know if Finn carries a knife on him, but if he does, it’s safe to assume the men got hold of that too. Which leaves him with nothing to defend himself.

And you know you shouldn’t leave your post. It’s a stupid thing to do, and Tommy told you not to stray from the tables–but maybe that’s part of why you do it anyway. There’s something about being told what to do that just doesn’t sit right with you, even if it is your own boss giving the orders. Call it reckless, call it insane; but you have a space of two seconds to decide what to do before the small group of men is completely out of sight.

So you follow them.

Of course you do.

It’s not easy to admit, especially when you’ve been trying to tell yourself the exact opposite for months, but you like him. More than you want; more than you should. But you’ve learned long ago that feelings don’t like to be told what to be either.

So the most you can do–all you know to do–is ignore them. Try to bury them. Lock them up in a treasure chest that you lob into the depths of the ocean and of which you melt the key.

Because sometimes you have to choose, and sometimes you can’t afford to let those choices be affected by feelings.

It’s a mistake you’ve made before, and a mistake you told yourself you would never make again.

But when the person you experience those feelings towards is kidnapped right in front of you, you can’t just not do anything.

You follow them from as far as physically possible without losing sight of them, but to your surprise they aren’t moving away from the main building–they're moving towards it. Your confusion only grows when one of them pulls a key ring from his pocket and opens a back door. The corridor is too dark to be able to tell where it leads, and you exhale sharply, growing more impatient by the second.

As soon as the door is open, the two men flanking Finn pull him roughly over the threshold. He stumbles, and in response, the man on the left punches him in the gut again; he doubles over, coughing. Your jaw twitches.

You force yourself to wait a full minute before following them. A full minute. You count the seconds–one pink elephant, two pink elephant–and as soon as you get to sixty, you tear across the square. Please be unlocked, please be unlocked, you pray as you try the handle: it doesn’t budge, and you give a frustrated growl.

All right. All right. Think. Lowering your head into your hands, you close your eyes. Your vision turns black, and soon you can hear nothing but your own breathing.

You could try to pick the lock. It looked rusty–it shouldn’t be that hard to get open.

But that would take time, and Finn is in danger now. What if you just blasted the lock through the door? Your gun sits against your hip, grows hot. But that’s loud, and the risk of someone hearing you is too great.

Someone else must have the key, though, right? You perk up immediately, eyes scanning across the tribunes. People are now scrambling for a seat, their legs having grown tired of holding them up in the summer sun that’s still beating down on them. But there are dozens of men here, you remind yourself immediately after. The chance you manage to run into one who just happens to have the key on him is too slim.

Nothing. Nothing else comes to mind. Empty. You slap your forehead, willing for another idea to spark. Of course, it doesn’t work, and in a rage you ball a fist and slam it into the wall behind you. Pain jolts through your entire arm, down your shoulder to your chest. You barely feel it, unable to concentrate in anything past the burning of white-hot fury.

You take a deep, ragged breath. Right. Right. Yanking your gun from its holster, you weigh it in your hand, gaze fixed on the lock–the stupid fucking lock, the only barrier between you and Finn. Slowly, you point the gun to the lock. The distance between the two objects only counts about three inches. Your hands are perfectly still. Again, you take a breath. Steady. One, two–

And then you hear it, and your head snaps up. Your vision clears, immediately focused again.

Footsteps.

Not the slightly disoriented footsteps that would belong to some random person who took a wrong turn; no, these footsteps are deliberate and stealthy–and directed right towards you.

So you press yourself flat against the wall, scooting up to the corner, waiting for him to round it. Closer, closer… and then a foot crosses the line, and your elbow immediately shoots out and connects. The stranger grunts, his hands immediately coming up to cover his nose. Blood trickles out from between his fingers and he stumbles, but you don't give him the chance to recover.

He's on the ground in a matter of seconds, with your knees firmly caging in his arms, despite being almost a full head taller than you–you found out that in a fair fight, size doesn't matter much as long as you have balls and a strong, strong motivation to beat your opponent to a pulp.

And that, you do.

You throw punch after punch–his jaw cracks beneath your knuckles but you can't bring yourself to care–and it's with effort that you finally sit back and take a breath. When you wipe a hand across the back of your mouth, you can taste the blood staining your fingers. The man beneath you whimpers. What is still visible of his purple and swollen eyes is rolled into the back of his head. He takes short, ragged breaths through bloody lips, his nose too swollen and broken to be of any use–cuts and bruises litter his cheeks and forehead. You're pretty sure you gave him a concussion.

"KEYS." You make sure there is no debate possible as to what it is you want. A single word, hissed from between cracked lips; a voice hoarse, rougher and harder than the roughest and hardest raw diamond.

The man gives a weak cough and your fingers, slick with blood–both yours and his–grasp his collar, pulling his face up and close to yours. You snarl, animal-like; baring your teeth and growling, "Give me your fucking keys."

A hand, close to your knee, tries to move, and you immediately let his head drop onto the hard pavement–his pained groan sounds like music to your ears–he's responsible for Finn's kidnapping he was in on it he knew about it he is just as responsible as the kidnappers themselves they will pay they will pay they will pay I will make them pay–and, with (to your surprise) trembling fingers, you almost immediately find the ring of keys that you're looking for.

All your churning rage leaves you in one fell swoop when your hand closes around the keys, the cold hard metal somehow snapping you out of your blind fury. It's still there, of course, but it doesn't have the upper hand any more. You're collected, calm even as you haul yourself up and cast the writhing man below you a disgusted look.

You could kill him. It would make no difference.

It would be so easy–you figure one well-placed kick would do the trick.

You state at him for what feels like eons, what are in reality not much more than a couple of seconds, but then you step back and make your way to the door, already thinking about which key to try first. Maybe you're lucky and, if you change your mind, he'll still be there when you get back. Maybe he'll die alone there, bloodied and beat up; you don't know exactly how badly you fucked him up. It would be a death worthy of a dog, and it wouldn't keep you up at night.

A bloody corpse, after all, is a bitch to clean up.

Behind the metal door is a short, dark corridor that leads to a stairway. On the dirty floor, you can just make out the sheen of fresh drops of blood where the outside light reflects in them. Your knuckles turn white around the door handle before you uncurl your fingers from it and let the door fall closed behind you.

It's surprisingly easy to navigate the stairway when your eyes adjust to the darkness. Quickly, quietly, you slip down, one hand resting against the wall for guidance, the other one hovering near your hip, ready to pull out your gun at any sign of trouble.

After a few minutes, the stairs stop and transform into another corridor, this one illuminated by a single naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stains litter the plastered walls, and everywhere you look are cracks. At the end of the corridor is a door, and it looks eerily similar to the first one, at the top of the staircase, though you have a feeling that this one isn't locked.

As you tiptoe closer to the door, you start to make out voices. You press your ear against the door, try to form the echoing sounds into words, phrases, but the noise is jumbled and impossible to make sense of.

All right. So you need a game plan. You need to know what you're going to say. There are three armed men in there. Guns, perhaps knives–and you're good, sure, but even you can't win a three-against-one if you don't have a significant advantage.

Something starts to form in your mind, and you set your jaw, rolling your shoulders and preparing for a fight–should it come to that. You hoped not, or at least not until you'd made sure of Finn's safety. Because really, that's all you want from this entire ordeal: you just want Finn to be safe.

You try the handle, slowly, carefully and sure enough it clicks.

With a last deep breath, you push open the door with a flourish and stroll into the room like you own it.

"Fellas, how're you doing? Oh, hi Finn," you add nonchalantly, casting him a cold look. It's harder than you thought, and the sight of him very nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

He's bound–strung up by his wrists like an animal–and looks worse than what you'd imagined the men would inflict upon him in the minutes you lost looking for a way in. His torn shirt hangs off his frame in ragged strips of fabric. Cuts and bruises litter his chest and face, and his trousers hang halfway off his hips, showing the sharp line of his hip bones. He's resting on his knees, but the ropes binding his wrists to the walls seem to do a better job of holding him up than his legs; Finn looks like he's only seconds away from collapsing.

All of this, you take note of in the split second you allow yourself to look at him. You can't see his expression in the dimly lit room; can't see his eyes; but that may be for the best. It's crucial for you to stay in character right now.

One of the men around him looks you up and down, mouth twisted in a snarl. He doesn't look very intimidated–as is your point, it's very important that none of them feel threatened by your presence. Instead, all three men's faces bear an expression that's a mix of confusion and apprehension.

"And who the fuck might you be?" The man who asked the question stands on Finn's right side, and you shift your bored gaze onto him, refusing to even look at Finn, who you're starting to suspect is actually unconscious–calm. Keep calm. Stay focused, keep your head clear.

You open your mouth, but it's that moment that Finn decides to open his eyes–he must have heard the man's incredulous inquiry, and got curious; maybe even hopeful. When his gaze locks onto you, his swollen eyes widen and he gasps, which throws him into a coughing fit. His hands ball to fists, and his arms tremble, and he's not getting any air–

Every heave of his lungs feels like a punch in the gut, and it takes every ounce of strength in your body to keep from running to him. Helping him. Saving him. But you stay planted in your spot, one eyebrow raised disdainfully, and you let him die.

"Y/N," he chokes out between coughs. "Y/N–"

The man who spoke before growls. His fist shoots out, connects with the side of Finn's head with a sickening crack.

And this time, you can't stop yourself from flinching.

"I'm asking you again."

Half a beat passes, and the next split second happens so quickly you barely register your own movements.

As he spoke, the man's hand slipped towards his hip. On reflex, your own did too, and both of you pull your weapons at the same time, pointing them at each other, which prompts surprised yelps from the other two men who yank their own guns out of their holsters and take aim for your head–and you find yourself the target of three separate pistols.

But your gaze is firmly fixated on the first man, as is the muzzle of your gun. He seems to be calling the shots, and you don't think his henchmen will do anything without his explicit permission. He opens his mouth again, and articulates the next words slowly and perfectly.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"The informant," you say innocently, steadily, cocking your head. Your gun hand, you're pleased to see, is steady as ever. "Big Boss didn't tell you about me?"

And your guess was right. You fight a triumphant smirk as the man hesitates, eyes flicking from your face to his cronies.

Of course they aren't operating alone. You knew that immediately–the kidnapping was messy, sloppily done, in the public's plain sight. You don't know how they got Finn to leave his post, but knowing him it couldn't have been all that difficult. They probably sent a boy with a note from "Tommy" up and got him to meet them at the place where the abduction took place.

Your guess was that they weren't professionals. Weren't trained. Acted on the orders of someone else–someone higher up.

And judging from this guy's reaction, you were right.

Now it was just a question of keeping the game up for as long as possible.

"What?" you laughed, "you thought it possible to take down Tommy fucking Shelby without a man on the inside? Do you even know who he is?"

The art of bluffing is not to say too much. Don't give away what you don't know. Watch your mouth, say enough to keep them on edge, not a fucking word more.

"We ain't know about no informant," said one of the other men.

"Shut up," you said sharply. "I'm not fucking talking to you." Talk like you own them.

The man scrutinises your face, still looking suspicious. He didn't lower his gun. "Roman sent you?"

And that was his second big mistake; because now you had a name.

"Of course Roman sent me."

He nods, slowly. Gestures for the other two men to put away their guns, but still doesn't lower his own. "How'd you get in?"

You grin, slowly pulling the key ring from your pocket and jiggling it.

The man keeps his gun trained on you for a few more moments–agonising, agonisingly long moments–then finally lowers it, and gestures you forward. "Well, then, informant. Enlighten us."

You pull from your inside pocket a small bundle of paper–your notes. All of them. As you hand them over, you find that you don't feel any guilt.

You had warned Tommy not to trust you, after all.

The man takes them from you, and quickly flips through the sheets of paper, one hand still holding his gun. He casts a quick look at the man farthest away from you, gives a stiff nod. As he studies your notes, you slowly walk to where Finn hangs, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and unbelieving and rimmed with tears.

And the longer you keep your bored expression on, the easier it becomes to maintain. So much so that when you reach him, and he looks up at you from where he sits on his knees–it takes almost no effort for you to mockingly wipe away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and flick the droplet back in his face with a cruel grin. Finn screws his eyes shut, presses his lips into a tight line, grits his teeth.

"You really did not hold back, eh?" You turn back to the man, who looks up from your notes and grins a crooked, gnarled grin. "He looks like shit."

"Fucker wouldn't talk," he shrugged. "Tougher little shit than he looks."

You chuckle. It feels like you're coughing up acid. "Roman figured he wouldn't talk. That's why he hired me."

"Yeah?" He calmly folds the paper back up and stretches his arms, sighing in contentment when his shoulder gives a satisfying crack. "Well, you did a fine job."

"Thanks. I'll leave my business card."

"I don't think that will be necessary." And he grins again–the grin of a coyote, the grin of a shark–and that small gesture immediately makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A sense of dread washes over you, tickles your spine, makes your entire body crackle with nervous tension from the tip of your toes to the very top of your cranium.

"You know, Roman has a… procedure. To make sure informants don't go blabbing to the other side."

"You threaten them by pointing your guns at them and yelling 'Keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll kill everyone you love'?" you guess hesitantly.

The shark's grin widens. "Nah. Too much work." His hand crawls to the back of his belt.

But this isn't the first sticky situation you've found yourself in, and you have lightning-fast reflexes to show for it.

Before he can fully cock his gun and take aim, you've pulled your own weapon, ducked beneath the ropes holding Finn up, planted a foot between his knees, grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand–he whimpers, and it almost breaks you–and pressed the barrel of your gun to his throat.

There is a puddle of water on the floor in front of you, and in it you can see your reflection. Your face is contorted into a terrifying imitation of a snarl, jaw clenched, teeth grinding, eyes spitting fire.

Nobody moves.

The man tuts, finger curling around his trigger. "So messy. So fucking messy, and we haven't even properly introduced ourselves. I believe our dear Shelby welp here called you Y/N?"

"That would make you Roman," you grit out.

He bows. "It would indeed." He laughs. "I have to say, kid, I admire the balls on you. Strolling in here, acting like you own the fucking place! These lads could learn from you." He jiggles his gun towards his two men. Then he taps his breast pocket with his free hand. “Thanks for this, though. A nice little bonus.”

Despite everything, your grip on Finn's hair tightens, and you pull his head back a little, showing off his exposed throat that much more. His breathing turns ragged, air whistling between clenched teeth.

The man's eyes glint, and his gaze flicks down, casting Finn a semi-sympathetic look. "Poor pup. Stings to be betrayed, don't it?"

Then he sighs, and is all business again. "Listen. There are three guns pointed at your head. Just step away from the welp, and your death will be quick and painless."

You bark a laugh. "Yeah, fuck that. Make me a better offer."

"No bargaining here, I'm afraid. Fuck off and away from the welp, Y/N."

In your head, your thoughts are racing at a thousand miles an hour. "You said he didn't talk. My notes apparently aren't what you were looking for. What do you want to know?"

Interest sparks in Roman's eyes. "How much do you know about Tommy Shelby?"

You shrug, albeit a little awkwardly. "I've worked for him for about eight months. I know enough."

"Even where he stashes his goddamn opium load?"

So that's what he wanted all along.

"Oh, easy. You know of Little Tempton? There's a huge storage facility right next to the scrapyard."

From Finn's throat rises a strangled gurgle–you give his head a little shake. "Shut the fuck up," you hiss.

Roman's eyebrows shoot up. "Little Tempton."

"That's right."

"Well, thank you so much for your fucking cooperation!" he says, in a high-pitched, mocking voice. Then his face grows serious again and he pouts semi-apologetically. "Still gonna kill you, though."

You press the barrel of your gun harder into Finn's throat, fingers tightening around the trigger. He inhales sharply. "Shoot me. I don't care. But I'm taking him with me."

Roman scoffs. "You think I give a fuck? You gave me the information I wanted. The fuckin' welp's not of use anymore."

"Maybe not." You shift, preparing yourself. If it comes down to it, you will do it. You will do it. "But Tommy won't know I did it. All he will find is two bodies, and I fucking swear to you that neither Tommy Shelby, nor Arthur Shelby, nor John Shelby, nor Polly Gray will rest until you and everything you stand for is absolutely burned to the ground."

Your words reverberate in the air and beneath your grip holding him up, Finn's eyes slip closed. He would want this, you tell yourself. If he could talk right now he would tell me to do it.

There is a beat of silence in which nobody moves–then all hell breaks loose.

The door is blasted off its hinges and hits one of the two henchmen, who gets the corner planted right in his throat. He goes down. The other screams bloody murder and launches himself right at the intruders–and John Shelby shoots him straight in the head.

Tommy and Arthur follow, along with Isaiah, and behind them, Johnny Dogs. You’re still standing behind Finn, your gun at his throat, and you process the flurry of incidents just that little fraction of a second too slowly.

You let him go, Finn slumps forward; you drop your gun, you stumble back–but the damage has been done, and Arthur turns to you, spittle flying from his twisted mouth as he screams. You can’t make out every word–the fight between John, Tommy, and Roman is noisy, and gunshots echo through the air, but you can make out a flurry of words–WE FUCKING TRUSTED YOU YOU FUCKING BASTARD WHAT WERE YOU THINKING I TOLD TOMMY YOU WERE NOTHING BUT A WORTHLESS FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT–and you, for the first time, don’t know what to do.

So you take the punches. You deserve them, after all; Arthur and Tommy caught you with a gun at Finn’s bloodied and bruised throat, even though what you did was all for Finn. To buy him time. To save him. I hope he realises that–I never wanted him to get hurt.

Between punches and kicks, you can just make out Johnny Dogs cutting Finn loose, Isaiah tapping his cheeks, trying to bring him back to consciousness. You close your eyes after a particularly vicious kick to the stomach, and you think you feel a rib crack.

But then, for just a second, the beating stops. You crack open one eye; blink away the blood; have to concentrate for a couple of seconds before your brain, foggy with pain, processes that Finn is tugging at Arthur’s sleeve. “Stop, Arthur–stop–” You can barely make out the words. Your ears are buzzing; your head is pounding. “It’s not their fault. It’s not their fault. They saved my life–”

“They had a FUCKING GUN at your THROAT–”

“They were never going to–they would never–Arthur–ARTHUR–”

One more foot to your stomach. A breath, kicked from your lungs–and your vision goes black.

– – –

When you wake up, the first thing that surprises you is that you wake up at all.

The second thing that surprises you is that you’re lying in a bed–on a mattress, with a pillow and a blanket and everything–and that you’re hooked up on an infuse, a needle sticking from your left inner elbow. When you try to move your head, a scratchy feeling indicates the presence of a bandage, and when you shift on the mattress you realise your chest is bandaged as well.

Your cuts have been cleaned, you have probably been given medicine–judging from the look of some superficial scrapes and bruises, you would guess you’ve been out for two, maybe three days. Huh.

The third thing that surprises you–and this is when your stomach drops–is Finn’s presence, in the corner of your small bland room, sitting in a comfortable chair. He’s dozing, head lolling forward, chin resting against his chest. He looks, apart from the bruises and cleaned cuts still littering his face and arms, peaceful.

For a moment, you allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him. The man you almost died for. The man you almost killed.

And the coward in you wants nothing more than to run away.

It’s what you would have done a week ago. It’s what you would have done now, were it not for the crushing feeling in your chest the second you laid eyes on him. You owe him an explanation. An apology. Something, anything–

You will wait until he wakes up, you compromise, closing your eyes and focusing on getting your breathing back to normal. You will wait until he wakes up, and you will tell him… you will tell him what he needs to hear.

Even though you don’t quite know what that is yet.

So you wait. You wait for him, counting the seconds as they pass, synchronising your breathing–the strain against your bandages and the flash of pain you feel with every exhale only fuels your suspicions of broken ribs–with his own. And after what feels like hours, days, months, he finally wakes up.

“Y/N.” You hate that the first word out of his mouth is your name, said so softly, so gently, so lovingly–you have to turn away.

“You’re awake.”

And you look at him. His expression is hopeful, relieved even, and you cannot fathom that after everything–after everything–he still thinks of you well enough to be happy about your waking up.

“Yes, I am.” You try to sit up, wince at the white-hot pain flashing through your chest and abdomen, stifling a sob. Finn rushes over–limps over–to help, and you’re too weak to refuse.

“I’m–”

“No. Finn, just–don’t.” There’s a silence as you catch your breath, and Finn’s eyes–you’ve never been so close to him before. You’ve never been able to see his face from so close before. You can see every speck of colour in his eyes (they're brought out by the dark bruising around them), can follow every microscopic movement they make. You could almost count every freckle placed on his cheeks; arranged there so carefully they could be stars.

You open your mouth again, but he cuts you off. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

At your incredulous tone, he laughs, and the sound is so startling and beautiful that you replay it over and over in your mind for weeks afterwards. “I mean, I don’t want to hear you tell me whatever it is you’re going to tell me. I don’t–I don’t want anything from you. You don’t need to apologise, you don’t need to explain. You saved my life.”

“No, Finn. I almost ended it. I would have ended it if it had gotten to that point. Finn, I would have killed you. I would have shot you. I would not have hesitated.” You look him in the eye, grab his hand and squeeze it. You want him to understand. You need him to understand. “I am not the hero you think I am.”

But he rolls his eyes, and it’s so frustrating you almost scream. “Don’t give me that shit. I know you would have killed me. You would have killed me so Tommy would go after Roman and kill him. It’s just a game, Y/N. I’ve been playing it all my life.”

“I gave him the location of Tommy’s opium. You literally would have died before telling him, and I did it without hesitation.”

“That was your choice. Tommy knows, he’s preparing an ambush as we speak. Roman was bound to find out anyway; he's been on Tommy’s ass for ages.”

You grit your teeth, look away. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Trying to convince me I’m a better person than I am.”

“You are a better fucking person than you think you are.”

You laugh; a bitter sound, melancholy, opposite in every way to the sound of Finn’s laugh only a minute ago. “Finn–forgive me for being brash–but you don’t know the first thing about me.”

His face falls, and your heart–you blame it on the medicine they hooked you up on–skips a beat. “Hey. Listen. I don’t blame you.” You blow a strand of hair out of your face, reach over (ignoring the painful strain of your ribs), take both of his hands in yours, ever so gently. “But you’ve only known me for less than a year, and even then… you don’t really know me. As in, I don’t let anyone really know me. And I’ve had to live with me my whole fucking life.”

You take a breath, slowly working up the courage to say what you really want to say, knowing that if you do, there’s no turning back. “You talked to them.”

“Who?”

“Tommy. John. Arthur,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Arthur would have killed me if it weren’t for you.”

Finn nods, face reddening. “They took a bit of–uh–convincing.”

“Arthur offered to slice my throat.”

“Shut up.”

“John’s always liked me. He would just shoot me, I think. Quick and painless and all that.”

“Stop.”

“Tommy…” You pause to think, purse your lips. “Would probably beat me to death with his bare fucking hands.”

“Y/N. Can we please not talk about you dying? When I’ve literally just done everything in my power to stop that from happening?” He sighs, shakes his head. “Tommy was actually the easiest to convince out of all of them. Polly wanted to throw you out into the woods and let you rot.”

You smile wryly. “You should have listened to her.”

“Y/N–”

“No, no. You listen.” You pull him close to you, force him to look into your eyes. “Finn. Oi, are you fucking listening to me?”

“Yeah–”

“I am no fucking good for you.” There it is. Out in the open. Immediately, his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t deny it.

His eyes flick down, then back up, still defiant. “I’ll decide that for myself.”

“No. Not on this. Finn–” before you can stop yourself, your hand comes up and cups his jaw, and he stiffens– “I am a fire. And I would burn you from the inside out.”

“I don’t fucking care,” he whispers.

“I fucking do,” you hiss back.

You’re impossibly close now. So close. His breath fans your cheek, and you look into each other’s eyes; two polar opposites, in everything bar your stubbornness. Like a moth to flame; or like a fly to honey.

And when he leans in, your eyes slip closed and you know there is nothing you can do.

Your lips touch. Brush, only slightly, and his fingers come up to stroke your cheek, gentler than you could have dreamed. His touch leaves fire in its wake, and you’re tingling, and you break apart after only a second.

Your eyes lock, and you purse your lips, scowling. “Fine. Fine. Fuck you.” And you wrap your arms around his neck and crash your mouth back on his. The fly is attracted to the honey; but once contact is made, the honey drowns the fly.

“I have to leave,” you mumble against his lips.

Finn hums. “Not yet.”

“No, I mean–” You pull away fully. “This is a warning.”

He frowns.

“Tommy’s doing this for you. He spared me for you. I can’t–I have to go. I can’t stay in Small Heath, I would get killed, you realise that, right?”

“You have to get better first–”

“He won’t give me that long. This is an ultimatum.” You start to grow a little agitated now, shaking your head, running a hand through your hair and fiddling with the IV. “Hey, give me a hand.” Your fingers tremble.

“Wait–calm down, calm down.” He stops your hand, swats it away before gently undoing the straps. You rub the sore spot absent-mindedly. “Do you know where you’ll go?”

Your gaze snaps up. “Sorry?”

Finn smiles, a little wryly, a little fondly. “One of the reasons I love you is that you won’t let anyone tell you what to do. If you really want to go, I’ll help you.”

And slowly, you feel a smile forming too, pulling at the corners of your mouth as you look at this man. This man, who despite everything–despite every fucking thing–just told you he loves you. This man, who slowly wriggled himself a spot into your cold dead heart (it finally feels like it's starting to beat again), and you can feel he’s there to stay.

One day, maybe. If you can bring yourself to come back. If Tommy Shelby will have you in his city.

If Finn Shelby waits for you.

#finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #finn shelby fic #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders finn shelby #finn shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby imagine

220 notes · View notes

queendice98 · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Misfits meet Mutants

Sixth grade, one of the most awkward and biggest turning points in any youth's life. Everyone is going through puberty, long-time friends are beginning to fight each other over petty things, and anyone that has problems at home feels even more helpless and lost. The last part couldn't be more true for childhood friends Maggie, Maddie, and Ash. It's hard enough that they're undergoing puberty, but on top of that their home lives are less than ideal for moody preteens.

Maggie has a decent relationship with her father; her mother, on the other hand, is another story. Her mother is not the nurturing type. Some would say that perhaps her mental health was to blame but that is certainly no excuse for the way she treats her daughter. It doesn't help Maggie's mood that her parents are always fighting, leaving the poor girl feeling alone and unstable.

Maggie sluggishly gets ready for her first day of 6th grade, not that she's really looking forward to it, she just wants to escape the shitfest she calls a house. The brunette brushes her hair and teeth before changing into a baggy black hoodie, jeans, and an old pair of tennis shoes. She swings her large backpack on and grabs whatever looks edible from the fridge before leaving her house and walking to the bus stop nearby.

Maddie had to wake up much earlier than her friends so that she had enough time to feed her two younger siblings and send them off to the bus stop. Being the responsible older sister she is, she always took care of her siblings. Her mother often chose sleeping over care of her younger children, leaving her eldest to do all the work. The young girl sighs, grabbing a Mountain Dew and a packet of Pop-Tarts before going to the bus stop. She texts Ash to see if her friend is awake yet.

The girls have known each other since kindergarten, they had gone through so much in elementary school and every experience made their bond much stronger. Maddie is happy to have a friend like her, she has no idea how she would have survived without Ash. Lord knows they'll need each other as they go through the very early stages of puberty. She climbs onto the school bus, texting Ash after sitting down.

Ash texts Maddie that she's awake and getting ready for school, trying desperately to drown out her fighting parents. The kind girl is used to hearing them fight every morning before they go to work. It's gotten to the point that she no longer needs an alarm to wake up. She stays in her room until they finally leave for work giving her a chance to grab something for breakfast. Quickly settling on a day-old seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell, she heads out the door, happy that summer is over and she's back in school.

Ash has been in a bad home for as long as she can remember, her situation only worsening when her mom met Gavin and later married him. When he came into her life, she stupidly fooled herself into thinking he was different from all her mother's other relationships. Now he's proven himself to be nothing more than an overweight, alcoholic, smoker that spends most of his time drinking and belittling her. What Ash wouldn't give to get rid of that asshole once and for all, then maybe she'll have her mom back.

All three girls have no idea that they're in for a surprise when they get to school. Maddie and Ash meet up in the cafeteria, easily spotting Maggie by her lonesome. "Hey stranger." Ash says as she and Maddie sit with the young Wiccan.

Maggie smiles at the two girls, remembering them from fifth grade and how kind they were to her. "How you girls doin'?" Maggie asks as she drinks some chocolate milk.

"Eh, kinda glad to be at school. Least I'm out of that damn house." Maddie shrugs while sipping on her Mountain Dew.

"I was at camp over the summer. It was definitely better than being at home all day." Ash adds, eating an apple.

"Sounds like y'all had fun. I was stuck at home all summer." Maggie scrolls threw her phone, absentmindedly looking at some memes.

Ash glances up, noticing her new neighbor in line to get breakfast. "Oh God, of course that idiot would be here." Ash groans, praying that she doesn't have any classes with him.

Meanwhile, the Hamato boys are in the car heading to school, "I can't wait! We're finally going to public school!" Mikey shouts while practically vibrating in his seat.

"Calm down Mikey, you're going to scare everyone." Raph grouches to his younger brother, still grumpy from waking up early. Leo was almost neurotically making sure he had everything in his backpack. Donnie surprisingly was the most calm during the car ride despite being extremely excited about getting to go to public school. He was focused on how he can learn far more under the instruction of qualified professionals than he ever could have while homeschooled.

Splinter is glad his boys are excited for their official first day of school. Although they had a rough summer moving from New York to Fort Worth, Texas, he was sure it was for the best. After all, being here would hopefully be good for his boys. Maybe Splinter will benefit from this as well. Once at the school, the boys rushed to get out of the car. "Have a good day, my sons!" Splinter exclaims, feeling a bit emotional watching his boys go inside.

The hours go by as well as expected on the first day; the usual confusion of finding one's class, the principal trying to be cool as she greets the student body over the intercom, all the cliche drawn out 'getting to know you' activities. The girls were separate most of the day, finally reuniting for gym class. "Hey, y'all heard about the four turtles that moved here?" Maggie asks as they change into their gym clothes.

"Yeah, I think I had one of them in my math class earlier." Maddie saw one of the Hamato boys in her class. The blue clad one if she remembers correctly.

"I saw them in the hall between classes, the one with an orange bandana is loud as Hell." Ash finishes changing and leads the three girls out of the locker room only to see the four turtles in their gym class.

"Great." Moaned all three as they sit as far away from everyone as possible.

"Okay guys, my name is coach Dianne and I will be your gym teacher for the next three years. It's our first day, so we're just going to do some stretches before we play dodgeball!"

Mikey looks around and sees the three girls sitting by themselves in a corner while they did some stretching. He stared, curious as to why they were so far away from everyone else.

Leo took notice of the scrunched up face his brother was making, "What are you looking at Mikey?" He follows his brother's gaze only to blush dark red. He hadn't expected to see Maddie in gym class with him. The poor guy hasn't realised he is slowly developing a crush on the short haired brunette, a bit clueless about things like this because of his isolated upbringing. Raph laughs quietly while watching his oldest, 'most mature,' brother turn redder than a ripe cherry at seeing a pretty girl.

Before Mikey could get the chance to walk up to the girls to say hi, the coach began splitting everyone up into teams so they could start playing dodgeball. Unfortunately for him, they are on the other team. Mikey tries to get struck out along with the girls, really wanting a chance to talk to them.

In spite of his brother's efforts, it is Donnie that gets struck out first. Being the tallest of his classmates makes him an easy target. Ash gets hit not long after by a lucky shot, despite her doing an amazing job at dodging due to her small stature.

She sits near Donnie, grabs a book from her backpack and begins to read. Donnie notes that she's reading Macbeth and can't resist but get a little closer to her. "So, um, I see that you're into Shakespeare. I like his work too." He says in an attempt to make small talk.

She glances up, surprised that someone actually wants to talk to her. Hardly anyone talks to her. "It's okay, not one of my favorites. I'm just reading ahead for my English homework." Ash replies to the tall nerdy terrapin, blushing as she takes a good look at him. He's pretty cute for a mutant turtle. An adorable gap between his teeth and enchanting red-brown eyes are two things she spots off the bat.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Donnie." The shy boy extends a large three digit hand, shaking Ash's far smaller one. He's blown away by how beautiful she is. Extra long espresso locks, soft pale skin, sweet sensitive brown eyes, she's an absolute angel.

"I'm Ash, it's nice to meet you."

Leo is next to get hit and forced to sit on the bleachers. His sapphire blue eyes widen when he sees Maddie get struck out and begin walking in his direction. He wants to talk to her, but he has no idea what to say. "Um, hi." Leo says, his voice squeaking a little. He brushes it off the best he can, especially now that he's gotten her attention.

"Yes?" Maddie questions, wondering what this nerd could possibly want from her.

"I, uh, saw you in math class, and I want to get to know you a little better." Leo fidgets awkwardly under her harsh gaze. With her standing in front of him, he can really admire her better. Short, honey-brown hair frames her face perfectly. Her face and arms are splattered with adorable freckles. But, it's her eyes that fluster Leo the most. They're a beautiful blue-green. The shades shift depending on how the light hits them.

"Uh okay, what do you want to know?" Maddie asks, not knowing why Leo wants to talk to her but open to talk. The fact that the blue clad turtle is fairly handsome may have slightly opened her up to discussion. Pine green skin and sweet round sapphire eyes? Swoon worthy.

"So uh, Mr. Evans is a nutcase huh?" Leo chokes out. Jesus, he sucks at flirting. Just being social is a struggle when you've been isolated for so long, how is he supposed to hit on someone? Everyone that was watching them could see he was struggling like Hell.

Raph and Maggie are soon struck out. The red banded turtle watches Maggie sit down and curl in on herself. He is pulled in by how mysterious she looks. Raph has no idea that in reality the young woman is a small angry gremlin. He swaggers over to her, in reality looking like a fucking idiot, "Sup! How are ya?" Raph asks the young Wiccan.

"Hi?" Maggie responds hesitantly, unsure why he's talking to her.

Suspicious of new people, she stays curled into herself. This doesn't exactly hide her as much as she wishes it did, however. Long, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing and enchanting hazel eyes as she peers up at the intruder to her personal space.

"So how's your day going?" He asks, noticing that Maggie seems to be a bit wary.

She decides he's not posing a threat, at least not currently, "Eh it's what you'd expect on the first day of school." Maggie shrugs, humming non-committedly. She is just a bit unsure how to react now that Raph is talking to her. The two continue chatting about classes, Maggie letting Raph lead the conversation for the most part.

Finally, Mikey gets struck out of the game. "Hey guys!" The youngest turtle shouts, curious as to what his older brothers are doing. His face absolutely lights up when he sees that the girls he wanted to talk to earlier are now talking with his brothers.

Leo sees his baby brother making his way towards him and Maddie, he prays that Mikey doesn't embarrass him. Maddie sees the excitable turtle braces for herself. He seems nice but at the same time she's not sure if he's really friendly. "Maddie, this is my baby brother Mikey." Leo introduces the two, knowing Mikey wants to talk to her.

Mikey excitedly shakes Maddie's hand. He can't believe he has a new friend. "I love your hoodie! I'm a fan of My Hero Academia too!" Mikey exclaims, happy someone likes the same show he likes.

"Yeah? I just got into it recently. It's awesome!" Maddie says as she begins to talk to the orange clad turtle. Leo can't believe that Mikey took Maddie's attention away from him, then again, he should have expected this from his baby brother.

Casey spots Ash on the bleachers and heads over. He's eager to get to know his next-door neighbor, "Hey there, how's it going?"

Ash looks up at Casey and groans, why does he have to be her class? "Hi, I'm okay." Ash replied curtly.

Donnie wonders how they know each other. "So um, how do you two know each other? Do you have a class together or something?"

Ash shakes her head, "No he's my next-door neighbor, he moved into my neighborhood during the summer." She has nothing against Casey. It's just that he seems to follow her wherever she goes. Before they could have a chance to really talk, the bell rings for lunch. Ash sighs in relief as she grabs her things and Maddie so they can get away from all of these people. Maggie follows them, overhearing that they're going to hide out in the art room. Being in a quiet spot is better than being in the loud cafeteria.

The three girls wait in line to get some food, blissfully unaware that Mikey is planning to get the three girls to become his best friends. "So, you two gonna join any clubs or something?" Maddie asks as she grabs a tray of food and some milk.

Maggie grabs some food as well, sticking out her tongue at the choices, "I'm probably gonna join the band or something."

"I might join the cooking or arts and crafts club." Ash says, not caring how long she stays after school. It's better than being at home.

The boys are looking around for a place to sit only for their baby brother to drag them to the art room. "Mikey, where are you taking us?" Leo questions. Mikey doesn't answer, but his brothers have no choice but to follow him to make sure that he's okay. Casey goes with the turtles. He just feels like they may be fun to hang around. As the girls get settled in the art room, they hear muffled voices in the hall. They share confused looks until Mikey bursts through the door and sits down. The girls are startled and a bit nervous, but choose not to question it.

"Hi! I'm Michelangelo, but you guys can call me Mikey. I saw you guys in gym class and wanted to get to know you." Mikey bounces excitedly as he sits in front of the girls.

Once they enter the art room, Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Casey stop to catch their breath. Leo and his other two brothers begin apologizing for Mikey's behavior. Unlike the orange clad baby, they could recognize he was acting like a total stalker. The girls accepted their apology, seeing that Mikey means no harm. And who could say no to his adorable face? Especially when he just wanted to make friends!

"So uh Mikey, what elementary school did you and your brothers go to?" Ash asks as she eats her Burger.

"Oh we've been homeschooled until we moved here in June." Mikey replies as he eats his tots.

"Yeah, we're actually from New York. But Dad wanted to move here so we have a better education." Donnie adds as he peels an orange.

Maddie is stunned, "We don't usually get a lot of people from up North, they think our weather is too crazy."

"Yup, Texas has crazy weather." Maggie adds.

"No kidding! How can you survive in this weather? How do you walk around in the summer heat without dying?" Leo asks, amazed how anyone can stand the heat at all.

"We were raised in it, that's just how we are." Ash says as she doesn't think that heat is that bad.

Maddie and Leo blush when their eyes meet. They can't help but glance at each other, finding each other cute. Mikey notices their stares as he talks to Ash and Maggie, he's definitely going to tease Leo later.

"So what was it like in the Big Apple?" Maggie questions curiously.

Raph was happy to answer that question between bites of his burger. "It was okay, we mainly stayed in the house. Dad was paranoid about something happening to us."

The girls were surprised. Not only did they not see much of New York, but their dad was concerned enough for their safety that they moved so far away. "It's pretty cool, I want to go back when I get older." Casey stuffs his face with soggy tater-tots, continuing the conversation by telling them some stories he had from the few years he lived in the big city before moving.

The tweens continue talking to each other, and the girls are pleasantly surprised that they are having fun with these New Yorkers. The three girls are used to living in solitude and only talking to others when they have to, so this is a nice change. Mikey is just happy to have made some new friends on his first day of public school. Everyone is enjoying themselves as they chat among each other until lunch is over and they must go to their next lesson.

Donnie and Ash blush when they see they have the same science class. Ash thought she's the only one in the honors courses, unaware that Donnie is just as big a nerd as she is. The rest of the day goes by fairly well, the bell promptly releasing the students from class. The day is over, and they're free to go home.

The Hamato boys patiently wait for Rat Dad to come and pick them up. Mikey sees Ash and Maddie are waiting for their late bus and waves at them. Smiling when they wave back at him.

Leo soon sees Rat Dad's car, "C'mon Mikey, Father's here!" He shouts. Raph, seeing Mikey had seemingly completely ignored Leo, grabs his baby brother's arm and yanks him into the car.

"I assume you boys had a good day at school?" Splinter questions hopefully as he watches his boys get into the car.

"We had a great day Papa! I made some new friends!" Mikey shouts as he puts his seatbelt on.

"Yeah, we met them in gym class. They're really nice." Donnie says, a bright blush on his face.

"They're nice girls." Leo adds, getting Splinter's attention.

Splinter is apprehensive that the first friends they made were girls, though knowing his youngest he has no reason for concern. Mikey just wants to be friends with anyone and everyone. The more Splinter listens to what Mikey tells him, the more he relaxes as he can tell that Mikey is just trying to be friendly. Rat Dad is relieved that his boys had a good day at school, he had worried that moving here wouldn't turn out the way he had hoped. Thankfully Fort Worth seems like a great choice for him and his boys so far. If only they knew this was just the beginning of their new lives.

10 notes · View notes

danni-chuu · 4 years

Text

The 7 brothers with a 10 year-old lilith (+ side characters & mc)

This is an hc is inspired by the chapter 14 flashback, so the gist of this Hc is what if lilith gets turned into a 10 year old child try as diavolos way to save her. This is gonna be a really long post so strap in~❤️.

This hc post is made with the help of my friend, @heeminchan, thankiez.

General info about 10 year old lilith:

She has no recollection or memories about the celestial war or being an angel at all.

The post might say 10 years old but she's probably already pass the 1000+ mark, but still is and acts like a child.

She looks like ruri chan ( for reference here)

So without further babbling, lez go❤️

Lucifer

" if you behave I'll give you a princess poison apple and play with you "

Lucifer being the eldest takes it upon himself to be a father like figure to her. In front of the others, he makes sure to keep a strict front but in private, he's alot more softer on her.

Lucifer's room has a toy chest for her since she likes spending time and playing in his room. And being the child that she is, she even dresses up the skeleton in his room. If he's not busy, he would play with her, simple playing house and all.

One time while lucifer was doing paper work,lilith wanted to help him . So to keep lilith busy, he handed her a bunch of void documents and told her to sign them. In the end she got bored and decided to draw her with her 7 older brothers. Which luci decided to frame and put up at the entrance hall.

If lilith gets into trouble, luci doesn't shy away from punishment. But rather than stringing someone upside down and leaving them like that for 100 years, he would just ground lilith and take away her toys. (Buuuuut her other brothers would just sneak some of her toys to her room, especially beel and belphie)

Mammon

" heh you should be greatful you're brothers with the GREAT mammon, shortie! Huh?! w-wait dont cry! "

Mammon loves teasing lilith. Be it calling her a pipspeak, shortie, cry baby, etc. He's said them all, buuuuut he always takes it back because lilith might tell lucifer and he gets punished AG A I N.

Lilith as much as possible doesn't leave any of her things in mammon's room, because her other brothers warn her that he's going to sell them away.

One time mammon stole something from lucifer (probably something to profit from), and lilith was in lucifers room because she was playing hide and seek with beel. Seeing mammon stealing, she gets out of her hiding spot and tells mammon that she will rat him out to her big brother lucifer.mammon taking non of this shitz says he'll do whatever she wants. By the end of the day, lilith gets a new plushie and mammon still got ratted out because how can she lie to her big brother lucifer?

Mammon does try to get her involved in his schemes sometimes. Making her ask money from her other brothers and other more shenanigans, but when he's feeling it he will in fact spoil her with little treats such as candy.

Leviathan

" wooah you look so much like ruri-chan! Can you sing too?"

Levi is still as much of a shut- in, having a younger sibling that he can teach TSL or play games with is his dream come true. Lilith goes to his room to watch anime (for her its cartoons but dont tell levi because he will be very triggered) with him and play video games.

If lilith does go to levi's room , he's always watching out just in case she ends up using his precious figurines as dolls or touching his precious merch. Sometimes( most of the time) when he's too busy playing his games, lilith will just talk to henry 2.0 and feed him.

Levi is a mega ultra super duper (insert more hyperbolic words) fan of ruri-chan, so during lilith's birthday..he gave her a ruri-chan costume (the other brothers already knew where this was heading but they couldn't stop it since lilith liked the cute clothes). She wore them and levi literally freaked because she looked just like her! He posted a picture of her on devilgram and the pic got a decent amount of likes.

The only time that lilith gets in trouble with levi is her staying with him past her bed time, she gets pouty about it but in the end she still gets taken to bed by her big brother lucifer.

Satan

"i can read you a story or we can play tea time, what do you prefer? "

Satan acts alot like a tutor to lilith, he teaches her about manners, reading and writing, and many other things. Satan loves teaching lilith especially when he sees her trying to pronounce big words, which he finds adorable.

Satan for the most part wants lilith to stay out of his room because there are too many dangerous books around. But he would rather play with her in her room instead, either reading a children's bed time book before going to bed or playing tea time with her. They both share a love for pets and animals, so in his free time, he will take her to a kitty cafe where she can play with the lil furballs.

Satan was regulary teaching lilith about different animals, until they got to the cat. Lilith became so intrigued by cats that satan spent a good 30 minutes to an hour of answering her questions about cats. One day, he saw lilith crying by the stairs. He quickly went over and asked her what's wrong, only to find out that she asked lucifer if they can adopt a cat wherein lucifer completely dismisses the idea. Knowing that Lucifer's mind wont change, the next day satan surprises lilith with a black cat plushie with a red bow tie thats as tall (or alitte bit smaller) than her. Until this day, the cat plushie satan gave her is her favourite. She is never seen without it, and she even gave it a name, mr. Momo.

The only time that lilith ever gets in trouble is if she joins in on satan's pranks on lucifer. But most of the time she's let off the hook if they're harmless ones.

Asmodeus

" waahh~ lilith's so adorable, but not as adorable as me"

To lilith, asmo is the closest thing to a sister she can have. Being the only girl in the house( before mc, if mc is a girl ), asmo likes to doll her up and make her his little dress up doll. He often buys clothes for her because he just LOVES making her pretty.

She doesn't spend as much time in asmo's room because there isn't much to do there, but when asmo calls her in after a shopping trip. She already knows he's going to make her pretty as a peach!

It was lilith's birthday and Asmo wanted to dress her up for the occasion! Hair? Check! Make up? Check! Clothes? Check! She was looking as pretty as ever (but not as pretty as him). After dolling her up , lilith went to her other brothers to show Amos work. All of them asked if a child should be wearing that much make up, but asmo tells lilith to shrug them off because they can't appreciate beauty even if it hits them in the face!

The one thing that gets lilith in trouble is lucifer seeing her being dressed by asmo , wearing clothes not fit for a 10 year old girl. Seriously, devilgram level make up on a kid is not appropriate (well in lucifer and some of the other brothers point of view)

Beezlebub

" the eggs taste like plastic..huh? I'm not supposed to eat them? Sorry, they looked too realistic"

Beel is very close with lilith. He spends most of his time watching over her or bringing her to his favourite food joints to eat. Since beel is so big, she loves it when he carries her around, either on his shoulders or just being carried in general. Beel wants to protect lilith at all times, so if sorcerers or witches want to summon lilith, he comes along to watch over her still.

if its not Lucifer's room, lilith's next stop is always the twin's room. She goes in and jumps on either of the beds and having her toys there as well she can already entertain herself. When beel is there to play with her, she likes to play chef and make him food using her plastic kitchen toy set( though some pieces are missing since beel keeps forgetting that its plastic). If she doesn't want to play with her toys, she tries to tickle fight beel and always wins.

Beel was in his room eating a box of cupcakes until lilith barges in and sees him eating cupcakes, she pouts at beel asking why he didn't tell her that he had cupcakes. Beel, being beel just says to her, " they're my cupcakes". She pouts even more and says that she wants a cupcake as well. Beel couldn't resist and splits the cupcake, giving the other half to her. After finishing the cupcake, he promises to buy her a box aswell next time.

Lilith having a sweet tooth herself will often look in the fridge for sweets. She sometimes ends up eating beels food(custard), and hides the evidence. Beel rampages again and breaks the kitchen. Lucifer then lines all of them up and ask who ate the custard, and all of them immediately suspect mammon. But being a good girl, lilith admits her mistake and apologizes to beel, who calms down and says ," you could have left me some..".

Belphegor

" how about later...? Im still too sleepy to teach you..."

Belphie, same with beel, is pretty close with lilith. If he isn't cuddling her as his favourite cuddle buddy, he's teaching her how to dance ballet(Based it off his dancing sprite). Lilith spends most of her afternoon napping with belphie.

Besides playing with beel , lilith also loves playig around with belphie. She makes it an everyday challenge for herself to wake him up in the most creative ways. It can be things such as ice,drawing on his face, tickles, etc. When belphie is too lazy to stand up from bed( which is often), she just plays with his hair and does whatever she wants with it. When he finally does stand up, he teaches lilith some ballet. While she's even wearing her full ballet attire, with tutu included.

It was the middle of the night and lilith had a nightmare, she wanted to go to her big brother lucifer, but it was already late and she might be disturbing him. But then she remembered that mid nights is when his big brother belphie is awake, so she goes over to him with mr.momo. belphie is alittle confused since its way past her bedtime so he asked her whats wrong. She climbs up his bed and hugs him, after calming down she tells belphie that she had a nightmare. Belphie was well acquainted with nightmares, so he knew exactly what to do. They went to the kitchen and both had a cup of warm milk. Going back to his room, he cuddled up with lilith and made sure she had a good nights sleep.

Lilith ends up over sleeping and gets very cranky if she gets rudely awakened.the others find it very adorable.

"...." * Huwgs*

So this depends on the mc's personality but lets start from the beginning. After being sent to the devildom and having the basic run down of what is to come, mammon takes you to the house of lamentations. The first thing you notice once the door opens, is toys scattered all around the entrance hall. Not only toys, but you see a height lines at one of the door frames. Mammon gets more annoyed because he stepped on one of the toys and he shouts out," lilith!". A small girl carrying a black cat plushie almost her size comes down the stairs. Mammon scolds her for leaving her toys out like that and he introduces you to their 8th sibling, lilith. Lilith immediately hugs you (no matter the gender), because it's been a while since she's seen a human. And you become her instant play mate.

The mc's room already has a toy chest, filled with lilith's favourite toys. She likes to play around with the mc and actually gets quite attached to them.

Lilith gets so comfortable around the mc that she ask permission from her big brother luci if she can make a pact with the mc. Of course, lucifer is skeptical but he allows it because of liliths enthusiasm.

Diavolo

" ah lilith , I didn't think you would be accompanying lucifer today. "

Dia acts alot like the rich uncle that only comes back during the holidays to give out presents. Lilith rarely gets to see diavolo because most of the time it's only lucifer that gets to see him. But, when lucifer does come back he often gives lilith sweets that barbatos made by diavolo's order.

On the rare occasions that lucifer brings lilith along with him, she acts very reserved and shows off the manners lessons that satan has been teaching her.

On one evening, lucifer brings lilith along to dinner with diavolo. While eating, diavolo jokes around saying that lucifer should just stay in the castle with him. Suddenly, lilith bumps in and protests against the idea, " no big brother luci's staying with us". She hugs as much of lucifers arm that she can, giving diavolo her most pouty and "menacing face". Dia loves seeing how much she cares for her brother, while lucifer is trying his best to hide his embarrassment.

Luke

" ahhhhh! Im not a child! I dont want to play with a demon!"

When lilith first saw luke, her mind immediately said," playmate! ". Though luke always complains about being treated like a child because he's short, he tries to bare it because simeon convinced him to play with lilith.

When in the purgatory hall, she brings along mr.momo and some other toys. luke sometimes pretend he isn't there so he doesn't have to play with lilith, but once he hears a sniffle of her almost crying. He couldn't help but open the door for her and play.

Upon first meeting luke, the key difference in height was..still... apparent. Somehow, lilith is still a few inches taller than luke. Being the giddy child she is, she tells her brothers about it and they all start laughing their lungs out. And when luke finally got wind of it, he was so flustered and embarrassed, he almost refused to leave his room.

Solomon

" why not make a pact with me?"

All her brothers warn her about solomon and to stay as far away from him as possible, she rarely gets to interact with him. But most of the times they do meet, he often ask her to make a pact with him. She always replies to him, " i have to ask big brother luci's permission first". Solomon just smiles and pats her head.

Huhu not much i can say about him since im sure the brothers distance lilith from solomon as much as possible.

And that concludes this very very long post , hope you guys enjoyed it❤️❤️❤️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me lilith #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me luke

242 notes · View notes

tini-writes · 3 years

Text

Bloody Valentine (Pt. 1)

“In my head, in my head,”

“I’m laying naked with you, yeah.”

“In my head, in my head,”

“I’m ready to die holding your hand.”

“I don’t do fake love, but i’ll take some from you tonight.”

“I know, i’ve got to go but i might just miss the flight.”

“I can’t stay forever- let’s play pretend,”

“And treat this night like it’ll happen again.”

“You’ll be my Bloody Valentine tonight.”

(Songs in this fic belongs to their rightful owners)

(All Characters from Voltron: Legendary Defenders belong to their rightful owners)

Section One

Sign of the Times

I love music, Keith Kogane had decided at a young age.

There was something about it that had attracted the young child to it as a lamp would to a moth. His mother and father encouraged it, and it wasn’t long before the small child found himself singing along with the lyrics. New songs basically every week had found itself strung to the growing boy’s heart. His parents followed the lead, letting the verses and choruses hold their three-person family together. Dancing in living rooms and singing in public were some of the best memories Keith held dear to this day. And things were good back then. They were happy.

Until Keith’s twelfth birthday.

From what the now young adult had heard, his parents had snuck out early that morning to grab a gift for him, but on their way out of the store, had become casualties of a shop shooting. He had woken up that morning to police, one looking very sorrowful while holding a walkman to his chest. “What’s going on, where’s mom and dad,’ Keith had asked, eyes wide.

The male officer just shook his head with sad eyes, quietly handing over the gift to the young boy.

And the world seemed to stop spinning for a moment.

From that moment on, Keith had been relocated to an orphanage. Many people tried to take him in, only to have him returned back to the orphanage with angry foster parents flat on his tail. Keith found himself hitting rock bottom of a hole with the title ‘depression’, and he had no clue how to crawl out of it.

Until the Shiroganes decided to adopt a child. And that child was Keith.

It was a good family. A mother, a father, and a son or age fourteen. The mother was a quick-witted businesswoman and the father owned a mechanical shop somewhere in the center of Texas. The son, Takashi, was kind, offering to spend time with his new younger brother every day. He was the golden boy, the perfect figure for an older brother, and it didn’t take long for Keith to warm up to him. The two stayed up late a lot because despite Shiro (Keith’s nickname for him) being the golden boy, he had a knack for acting like a toddler.

And Keith figured he could get used to something like that.

___

Years later, Keith and Shiro had moved out. The two were close now- well, close enough for Keith to be able to tolerate moving into an apartment with him.

The two of them had moved to a small city, but a city nonetheless called Altea- a small speck on any map. It gave Shiro the city he wanted while not having a bunch of people so he didn’t have to go to war with his younger brother to get him out of the house. It suits them both well, and they were happy about that.

While out, the brothers had met some friends that happened to spend a lot of time in their apartment now. They met Matt Holt, and through him, they met his Non-Binary sibling, Pidge. And through them, Keith met Hunk and Lance, Pidge’s best friends.

Pidge and Matt were both slender people with unruly caramel hair and freckles. Pidge was the shortest (by a lot) who wore round glasses and always seemed to have some sort of green article of clothing on their body. Matt rocked an undercut, always wearing one of those hoodies that oddly look dirty, but is always clean somehow. Both of them, however, were your basic nerds and coffee addicts.

Lance Mcclain is a lanky, tan, Cuban boy with more ego than legs, surprisingly. He’s cocky, arrogant and a giant flirt. He’s constantly aiming to tick Keith off for some reason, or maybe it’s just him. He’s everything Keith despises in a human being, but for some reason, he can’t be mad at him. No matter how self-absorbed he can get, Keith will still find those blue eyes and snarky smirk to stick him into a wormhole of emotions.

A crush. So what? It’ll go away.

Hunk was a tall yet stout Samoan. But he was sweet, and Keith liked talking to him. He was always smiling and he was the kind of person to lift your spirits without trying. You just don’t want him on your bad side, and Keith’s pretty sure that’s how he got respect for the guy in the first place.

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance had roped Keith into their small little trio since day one- just as well as a certain Cuban caught his eye. Shiro had caught on quickly, tossing Keith quirked brows over Lance’s shoulders to which Keith could only flush at. And things like this only made him more frustrated because Lance was a giant flirt, teasing girls after concerts and sending winks to one of their directors, Allura (to which she would always roll her eyes). But Keith always looked down on his own emotions when it came to the taller boy because it just felt so… impossible for the other to feel the same. But yet he still found himself enjoying side hugs, gentle bantering, and moments where Lance would teasingly offer to cuddle.

He let himself pretend, and he was okay with it.

Keith can roll with it.

___

He was running now, trying to pace his breathing with each thump of his foot hitting the ground. Keith gripped the paper in his right hand just a little bit tighter, using his left to fix his black hoodie flying behind him from the speed of him dodging through other pedestrians.

Left, inhale.

Right, exhale.

Left, inhale.

Right, exhale.

Keith followed that pattern, inhaling, and exhaling the pain from the cramp that was coiling at the bottom of his gut. He winced, skidding to a halt, and turning as he found his way into the apartment building of Arusia. He pushed his way through the spinning door, nearly ramming into Alfor, great-great-grandson of the guy that founded Altea. Alfor smiled widely, recognizing him.

“Oh, hello, Keith! I just dropped Allura off. She said you texted her something about meeting up--” Alfor was cut off by Keith scrambling around him, racing for the elevator. “Eh? Keith? What’s going on?”

The teenager was already in the elevator, however, pressing floor number six and just as the door closed, cupped his hands around his mouth. Keith was grinning now, heaving and out of breath. “We made it!”

Keith watched Alfor’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his own smile split over his face. Then the elevator door closed between them. Keith was still grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, pacing in circles in the levator until the obnoxiously loud ding sounded from the tiny speaker. Keith took off again, bounding down the slim hallway until he found their room.

Not bothering to dig for his keys in his pockets, he knocked as hard and as fast as he could basically bouncing in place. “Shiro!” He yelped, coming to the happily numbed conclusion he would hug his brother as soon as the door opened. He hadn’t felt this happy in years, and even then he felt that a goal this big was so far out of reach so when it happens so suddenly--

The door opens and Keith launches himself forward, throwing his arms around the shoulders of the person who opened the door. Keith didn’t hug much, but it just seemed so right. He spent a moment basking in the ocean salt scent of--

Wait a hot holy minute.

Keith pulled back and scanned the face of the person he’d been hugging. Grey-purple eyes met with ocean blue, and flushed face met flushed face. But Lance is grabbing Keith’s shoulders and giving him an intense glare. “Keith, what’s wrong? Why are you screaming? Are you hurt?” He sounded panicked, and then his eyes landed on the lilac piece of paper Keith had clutched in his fist. “What’s that?” Lance reached down and snatched it, and Keith let him, mind still scrambled because Lance’s breath just fanned across his lips and he thinks he’s dying--

But then those eyes are shining, and slowly, a giant grin on Lance’s face and Keith’s gut is twisted in fifty painful knots and Lance barges into him and lifts him off the ground. Keith lets out an oof as Lance laughed, grinning widely. Lance is spinning with Keith in his arms and the smaller teenager feels giddy, and Lance is whooping and hollering and they’ll probably get a noise complaint. “We made it! We fucking made it, guys! Guys we’re in!”

And as fast as it started, Lance is setting him down and scrambling down the entrance hallway, and Keith is reeling for a moment before he’s dashing after the Cuban. He rounds the corner in Shiro and Keith’s small living room, and the couches are crowded with people craning their necks over Lance’s shoulder. And Pidge was the first one to hop up, whooping and pumping a fist in the air.

“Whoo! I told you we’d make it!” Pidge hollered at the top of their lungs, flopping back against Hunk as the taller person sad down, grinning madly. Lance was still staring at the paper, a Cheshire grin illuminating the room as Allura and Matt stared at it with their jaws agape. It was Matt who rebooted first, eyes wide.

“Jesus. That’s great!” And then the taller sibling is charging across the room, diving for Pidge and wrapping them up in a bone crushing hug. The smallest growled under their breath. “Oh! I’m so proud of my little sibling! Yo, we should bust open some champagne!”

Suddenly, Shiro’s head popped out of the Kitchen doorway. “Who said champagne?”

“Wow. And here i was thinking you were innocent,” Lance teased with that smirk, handing the slip of paper to Allura who still stared at it in pure awe. She might’ve been having a stroke. Shiro lanked his way into the room, standing by Keith who rested against the wall with his arms crossed.

“I like to think that I still am.” Shiro cracked up, but he jerked a thumb in Keith’s direction. “But Grumpypants back there should stay clean of alcohol for one night.”

The buzz of rum washing down his throat and the mirgane burning sickeningly at the back of his mind. Lolling his head back so he could stare at the roof, tears clouding his vision and before he can stop himself, he’s sobbing.

“Oh, Keith…”

“WE MADE IT TO THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS!” Allura comes charging of whatever crack of hell, hollering and Keith is physically shaken because he didn’t know she had that much energy. She hooks an arm around Shiro’s shoulder, and the other adult is perfectly fine with it because he has a boyfriend. But his eyebrows do raise up his forehead in a way that reminds Keith solely of their father and Alfor. Do all dads make that face?

Keith and his friends are in a small rock cover band with the name ‘Voltron’. Allura had come up with the name and had become one of their directors along with another guy, Coran. Pidge and Hunk had insisted on being with sound and effects, tucked away often at the back of the stages. Romelle, a blonde girl that ought to be tucked into the dark folds of this cursed apartment stealing liquor was their drummer- full of energy and not afraid to flip you off. Shiro and Lance are guitarists, Shiro always on bass while Lance has the talent to swap between acoustic and electric.

And somehow Keith ended up being the lead singer, which he was fine with as long as he didn’t have to sing with any real emotion.

And so ‘Voltron’ was formed.

“What?”

“What?” Romelle (there she fucking is) sticks her head out of the kitchen, a Twisted Tea in her hand. He thinks he’s gonna snatch it from her because he bought it with his work money, but he’s not that cruel with his friends.

“We made it?”

“No fucking way.” Romelle plops herself the rest of the way out of the kitchen, strutting over. Allura just nods with so much energy that Keith thinks she might snap her neck.

“Yes fucking way.” Allura nods again, shoving the paper in her best friend’s face. “Look.”

Shiro pulls the paper back from the blonde’s face a bit so he can read with her. And Keith watches with humor as their eyebrows raise in sync, and he backs away with a fond smile and his arms still crossed. He turns on his heel and turns toward the kitchen, making his way to the fridge and he ducks into it to pull out his own can of Twisted Tea.

He leans back against the island in the kitchen as he clicks it open and takes a swig. It’s not something strong, but it’ll have to do until everyone else leaves and Shiro is asleep. He sighs, letting his shoulders sag as the burn of the alcohol settles at the back of his mouth.

Let his liver be forgotten about.

“I thought Shiro just said he wanted you to catch a break from alcohol?” He hears Lance joke lightly, and turns to find the lanky boy already settled into one of the barstools at the island, watching him from where his head is perched on his hand. Keith resists the urge to groan in annoyance.

This stupidly attractive boy just can’t be shaken, can’t he?

Keith turns to face him, setting his elbows on the same island as Lance as he makes direct eye contact as he takes a long, cold, intoxicating swig. Lance tossed his head back and cackles, eyes crinkling at the edges as he waves a finger at the boy across from him.

“Scandalous.”

“Look who's talking.” Keith rasps, the fire of the alcohol being a mepic bitch and sneaking up on him. Then suddenly his lungs are in flames and he’s hacking up a storm. Lance’s keeps snorting his obnoxious high-pitched laugh, eyes closed in mirth.

Keith fakes the cough for a second just to make sure the sound of it is saved in his mind.

“Humor. I like it. The happiness of making it into the battle of the bands must’ve really hit you hard.” Lance wipes some ‘happy tears’ away from his eyes as he pats the seat next to him, motioning for Keith to sit with him. Keith doesn’t budge. Lance tossed his head back. “Come on, Mullet. If you’re gonna converse with your favorite guitarist then at least sit your happy ass down.”

“Who said you were my favorite?”

“Well, you’re not trying to claw me to shreds right now, for one, And second of all, you’re completely ignoring Shiro with the whole ‘no drinking’ thing.” Lance reminded, counting off on his fingers. Keith just hums and nods, taking another long swig of the five percent alcohol.

“Fair argument.”

“So does that mean that i’m your favorite?” Lance asked as Keith turned back to the fridge, tucking the rim of his open can between his teeth to grab two more. He sets them both on the island before tipping his head back and finishing that can off. He can feel Lance’s eyes gouging into his neck, and he might’ve swallowed for a completely different reason.

Keith sets the empty can down and slides one of the full ones toward Lance, taking the other for himself and he pops it open. He presses his lips to the opening of the can before he responds with a teasing, “I never said that,” and Lance is gaping at him. He babbles for a moment with wide eyes before he shakes his head with more energy than Allura.

“Oh come on! We have fun on stage! Try-outs! We shared a mic!” Lance tosses his head back and groans in a way that makes the wind fly out of Keith in a loud sigh. Lance doesn’t seem to notice for he’s too busy pouting. “Come on!”

“This sounds similar, don’t you think? Blue? Remember that?” Keith leans toward Lance with a smirk, and Lance shoots a glare at him even though there's no real heat behind it- Keith realizes that now.

“Oh, not this shit again… You’re the reason Blue was stolen in the first place! Zendak and his band are just a bunch of dweebs looking for something to pawn and you just happened to get me caught up in that fistfight with Rolo!” Lance complains loudly, but Keith is quick to quip back.

“Me rescuing Blue for you was a bonding moment! I delicately handed her to you!” Keith knows he’s pouting now, so he turns his head to the side and hiffs. Out of his left ear, he can hear Lance open his can. “Besides, you definitely slept with his sister. That’s the entire reason I got into that fight in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah i was,” Lance says between chuckles that sound too low and sensual not to be considered inappropriate and bad for Keith’s health. “She was hot, too. I have no regrets in that bubble.”

And Keith let his heart sink to the floor.

Sure, Lance talking about a hook-up with some girl really shouldn’t bother him, but it just… does. Makes Keith feel a flurry of emotions and the only way he can respond is by staring sadly at his can or alcohol. Lance’s laughter dies down and it leaves them in silence, and Keith can’t tell if he should be talking or not.

Keith folds his fingers around his can of Twisted Tea and presses his lips together, letting his head hang.

Another minute or two of silence before the atmosphere shatters.

“Hey, that didn’t bother you, did it? Me sleeping with someone after concert? You technically aren't the boss, but you just seem… triste.” Lance sounds awkward and guilty, which was never a good thing coming from him. Lance was always cocky, finding ways to shuffle his way to the head of the stage to show off during concerts. So when that tone completely switched, the first thing that clicked in Keith's mind was that he probably responded the wrong way and now Lance is upset.

Shit.

“No, it’s fine. Sleep with as many girls and guys as you want. I don’t decide how you cope- seeing you havn’t snached my Tea away from me, yet.” And this gets Lance’s lips to quirk into a soft smile, and Keith’s heart skips a beat. And then Lance’s hand is reaching between them to pat at his shoulder, his own lips now in a straight line.

Fireworks dance under Lance’s fingertips, and it made Keith light up. He was hyperactively aware of Lance’s hand rubbing his back and shoulder blades gently, their eyes not leaving the cans in their hands.

Keith found it funny how Lance could be so close but so unreachable at the same time. And what hurt the most was moments like these, when he wanted to stay in them forever, but also the nagging feeling of his emotions being unrequited. And the fact that Lance would wake up in some fan’s apartment the next morning just felt so… cold and lonely and empty that Keith just wanted to disappear sometimes. Just float into nothingness and let his mind rest.

It was nice now, sure.

But it would never be enough.

#klance #voltron #writing #this was supposed to be on Ao3 but I can’t find the time to track down my laptop so fuck this #bloody Valentine

4 notes · View notes

an-dromedia · 4 years

Text

if regulus black was the potions professor instead of snape

some of my headcanons if regulus was the potions professor instead of snape because i can't sleep. please give credit and tag me if you use/take inspiration from these. i’d like so see what you create :)

after coming back from the cave, he decided to talk to dumbledore for help

dumbledore offers regulus the position as a spy and the potions position when it becomes available

surprise. it became available

everyone was a bit doubtful when regulus first started working there

even though he was also head of house for slytherin, the younger slytherins were doubtful

after his first year, the students and staff start to like him

he’s gentle and kind while also being strict and determined

every year, when first years get scared to go to potions because they know about the blacks and how the entire family is crazy and dark, the older years help them

the students learn that he isn't like his family at all and he easily becomes one of their favorite professors

his door is always open for students to ask questions

students start to come to him when they’re having problems with their homework

after a while, students come just to read in silence or to play a game of chess and his room becomes a comfortable place to hang out and regulus accepts it

when students get assigned detention from regulus, they always end up sitting in the room to work on their homework, because even if they did something bad, regulus doesn’t feel right taking away their time

whenever he’s on night patrol and finds a student alone because they can't sleep, he sits next to them by a window and points out different constellations and stories about the stars until they fall asleep and he takes them to their common room, lays them on the couch with a blanket

sooner or later, one student comes in when they don't want to go home because of their parents or guardians and regulus works out an agreement with dumbledore

any student that doesn't feel safe at home will stay with regulus at grimmauld place under the guise of summer school

when the agreement first becomes knowledge to students, only three students come up to him asking if they could join him

the next year, he brings home nine students

regulus is just as nice at home as he is at school

he never forces students to do anything, just occasionally points them in the right direction

he always has food out for them and never denies them their human rights like food, a bed, the bathroom, clothes, etc.

when 1991 comes around, he notices his brothers godson and his cousins son

he can tell harry was or is being abused by the state of his clothes on the weekends, his lack of hunger and his smaller form than the other kids

so, like he does every year, he announces in his classes his home away from home for kids who don't feel safe at home (which he later names GHOUL, grimmaulds home for unsafe learners)

at the end of the year, young harry potter comes up to him and asks if he can join ghoul. regulus, of course, lets him.

he helps harry get through his past abuse, like he does with the other students there

he tells harry stories about his family. he tells harry that he has a godfather who is in azkaban and is the reason his parents are dead

that summer, he has harry, adrian pucey, a slytherin who would be going into his fourth year, kenneth towler, a gryffindor also going into his fourth year, katie bell, a gryffindor going into her third year, elora dunn, a coming fifth year in hufflepuff and nicholas grimmett, a ravenclaw going into his sixth year at his home

when harry comes to him saying he can hear someone speaking in the walls, regulus doesn't know what to tell him, besides that he should come to him if he hears it again and what it says. spoiler: harry comes back again

when the dueling/parseltongue incident happened, regulus spent around twenty minutes telling harry it was okay, and that parsel was a trait in the potter family that most forgot about

regulus is extremely worried when harry goes to the chamber of secrets

when he comes back up, regulus gives him the biggest hug when harry starts crying about how voldemort was ruining his life

that year, the same six students come home with him, plus amelie ellis and her twin brother milo ellis, coming second years in ravenclaw and hufflepuff respectively

sirius black escapes azkaban. students immediately look at him when its announced by dumbledore at the opening feast

remus lupin watches him warily the first couple days. after that, they become friends of sorts

when his dear brother shows up, regulus feels guilty for not pushing for sirius to get his trial

regulus, having a brain and all, ties peter pettigrew up and turns him into the ministry

after that, sirius joins the kids at grimmauld after being declared a free man and cleared by mindhealers

ghoul now extended to younger students now that sirius was home all the time. the ellis twins bring their younger sister, freya. adrian pucey brings his baby brother elijah. kenneth towlers brings his sister renee.

nicholas grimmett leaves the house now that he graduated, but promises to write. regulus reminds him that ghoul was open for him whenever he’d like.

harry potter’s name gets called out of the goblet of fire. regulus blacks heart sinks. he can tell that his other ghoul students hearts also sink. they had become family and he can't let family get hurt

he does everything he can to get harry not to compete, but to no avail

regulus helps harry as much as he can

the yule ball comes around and regulus encourages harry to ask who he wanted to ask. harry says he can't. he ends up asking luna lovegood, a third year ravenclaw who harry had become close to during a late night excursion (regulus had caught harry telling luna about the stars when she couldn't sleep like regulus does to him)

the end of the tournament comes quickly and harry comes with cedric diggorys body

regulus consoles harry while telling him it wasn't his fault

when harry came to regulus the next year after detention with umbridge, regulus has a fit

if the ministry was allowing this, they were in dire need of a new minister. regulus goes to the goblins instead

the goblins arrest umbridge for possessing illegal goblin property.

regulus ends up doubling positions and teaches potions and dada (its hard, but the students know he's trying his best and help him wherever they can)

draco malfoy tells regulus that his father was joining a raid to find the prophecy and that voldemort was planning to send harry a fake vision of sirius black being held by death eaters. regulus tells harry and harry ignores it when it happens

no one goes to the department of mysteries besides death eaters

draco malfoy comes to him again at the end of the year and tells him that his father wants him to take the dark mark. if his father can't find him, theres no dark mark. draco joins ghoul. draco isn't the only student that ends up joining them after their parents told them they were going to get the dark mark over the summer

the next dada teacher isn't terrible, but also not excellent like remus lupin was

dumbledore tries to get harry to go find a horcurx with him but regulus informs him that he already found that horcrux and it was destroyed by the goblins

when harry tells regulus and sirius that he and hermione and ron have to go look for horcruxes, the brothers are devastated. it was a dangerous mission. regulus gives harry a two-way journal in which harry and regulus could write to each other. harry gives him the longest hug before he leaves

when voldemort calls all of his followers on the day of may 2nd, regulus ignores the call. he was in excruciating pain but poppy casts a numbing spell on his arm. it helps, but he can still feel the pain

when regulus walked into the great hall for the first time since chaos broke, he was heartbroken to see the dead bodies. he could see a circle of his ghoul students so he walked over to them, only to with he didn't. kenneth towler laid dead. amelie ellis was sobbing uncontrollably, saying he was dead because of her. once he calmed her down, she explained though broken sobs that he had jumped in front of an AK for her. the poor boy wasn't even a student anymore. he only came back to fight. the boy was well on his way to a potions mastery because regulus had helped him develop his love for the subject. regulus comforted all of his children while he could

regulus cried when harry told him he was going to the forest to meet dumbledore

when hagrid comes back carrying harrys limp body, it takes everything regulus has got to not drop to the ground sobbing. his children were next to him and he needed to protect them, no matter what it took.

when harry jumped out of hagrid’s arms, regulus was so relieved. draco jumped out and gave harry his wand.

when it was all said and done, none of his other children died. regulus had jumped in front of crucios, hexes, jinxes, curses, all to make sure none of his children were hurt

when regulus and his children returned back home, they were greeted by sirius and the younger children who's siblings had brought them there or just any of the younger hogwarts students who hadn't wanted to fight, regulus had sent them here.

regulus sat with each one of his kids to talk about what they went through and if they needed help.

in an empty journal, he started to kept track of all of his students. starting with his first student, lucas mitchell, the ravenclaw who started it all to his most recent, stella chapman a young slytherin. he also kept track of what his graduated students were up to like lucas mitchell who was studying to become a healer. the journal was available to everyone who wanted to see it. as of may 2nd, 1998, he had had a total of 56 students that call(ed) grimmauld their home.

over the summer, regulus invited all of his current and graduated ghoul students to a party of sorts. before dinner, regulus announced the passing of kenneth towlers to those who didn't know. he said that he knew it was hard for them, the ghoul students had grown to be brothers and sisters, but they would always be there for each other and that ghouls door were always open to them

harrys year had the option to come back to finish their newts. harry chose to go back, along with most of his year. their classes were merged with the current seventh years as they were studying the same material

during the first month of the year, regulus learned who harry had wanted to ask to the yule ball but couldn't. draco malfoy. harry came up to him all nervous and anxious and told him he was gay and dating draco. regulus had smiled and congratulated him. he told him he was so proud of him for telling him. harry smiled and hugged him, all while thanking him for accepting him

when harry graduated, him and his ghoul students (ghoulies as they now called themselves) cheered the loudest.

harry came up to him after and told him he was going to become a defense against the dark arts professor now that the curse was lifted and that he wanted to help out with ghoul. regulus told him he would always be welcome to help the ghoulies.

draco then came up and asked to be his apprentice because he wanted to be a potions master like regulus. normally, future potions masters didn't have to have an apprenticeship, but draco said he wanted to because he wanted to help with ghoul while working. regulus accepted him as his apprentice

when the years passed, regulus was named headmaster once dumbledore and mcgonagall left and draco was named potions professor and head of slytherin house. now they had professor black, the potions teacher and headmaster black. draco had taken on his mothers maiden name when his father was condemned to azkaban (but he was going to change it to potter when he and harry got married)

regulus retired when he was 97, dedicating his time to ghoul. neville longbottom took up the place of headmaster and harry the place of head of gryffindor

ghoul was officially known throughout the wizarding world and regulus went down in wizarding history to have had the first ever home for unsafe wizarding children. it was still the only house in wizarding england

when regulus finally passed away, he saw james and lily potter who thanked him for taking care of their little boy and being a father to him. after that, he saw kenneth towlers and elora dunn who had died in the middle of an explosion in 2016 during one of her auror missions. they both thanked him profusely.

many, many, many years passed and regulus finally saw harry again. harry had had a baby boy with draco who they named scorpius regulus potter. they had also had a girl, lily narcissa potter. a year later, regulus saw draco again.

ghoul was still running after regulus and sirius’ passing. first by the potters, then renee towlers, then by the potter siblings, scorpius and lily who were the current heads of ghoul. teddy lupin, the current hogwarts headmaster after neville longbottom, lets them come in on the first day of school and everyday for the last week of school to remind them that ghoul was there for them. for when scorpius or lily weren't around, there was a sheet in the great hall, the library, the room of requirement and each of the common rooms for the students if they chose to go to ghoul.

and not once did severus snape ever do something as caring for the students as regulus black would've done

let me know if you want a whole fic on this :)

ao3: asgardixn | wattpad: asgradixn

update: this is now being turned into a fic on ao3 and wattpad.

20 notes · View notes