from: thirteen by @anna-scribbles

art by me :)

start from the beginning // read the november chapter // read the most recent chapter (january)

hey listen. look me in my eyes. have you read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you want your life to be forever changed you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you are a person who is breathing and alive you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. thank you

I am... Desperately waiting for chapter 9, no pressure, but I read the last two back to back and I gripping my sheets in anticipation. I was expecting to read that Ghost had a similar experience with his father, but then you threw me from the chopper with no parachute and no warning. Like holy fuck. Also he seemed... Upset that he Price was happy to make the Omega happy and get her what she likes.. is it because he was having difficulties moving past his trauma and nightmares as well?

If I had a way to just plug my brain into the computer and turn the images in my head into 7k words with little to no effort I would do it, believe me 😭

I mean, you're not entirely wrong. I'm using OG Ghost's backstory for this one too, like a lot of writers do, so that's definitely going to come into play later as well when reader starts revealing more and more of her backstory later on.

See, here's the thing. Ghost and death are best friends, right? They follow each other like shadows. Ghost has seen many, many people die and he has killed many himself, a lot of which were probably omegas that got caught in the crossfire. So you'd think some nameless omega getting shot in front of him wouldn't stick with him like that. Like yeah, that's pretty brutal for his first mission, but he's done far worse things since then. So, something like that shouldn't bother him.

Until, suddenly there's an omega being added to their pack. There's an unwanted dynamic being forced upon all of them and he's, of course, the least happy about it. They don't need some weak, mindless omega. They don't need a loose end, a vulnerability.

Then this omega shows up, and obviously something's off from the start. There's things not adding up, things not quite right with the omega and the situation. Suddenly this omega isn't some mindless subservient creature, it's a real person with a name and a face and he's sitting there watching his beta and Gaz and his Captain slowly fall for this thing that none of them had wanted. I mean, Price was fighting adding an omega for months before he was finally told no, you're getting one because the higher-ups said so.

So now, suddenly, there's this real, tangible thing in front of him. He's watching his beta slowly develop feelings for this omega and now he wants to pursue a bond with the omega and that's something Ghost will have to put up with, because of course he's not going to tell Johnny he can't. There's this real thing in their lives that would destroy each of them if something happened to it. He'd be forced to watch his pack, the only people he cares about in the world, fall apart if this thing was ever taken from them.

Now this nameless omega is beginning to take form in his dreams again. He's being haunted by something that happened probably fifteen years ago, something that had been lost in a haze of blood and violence. This omega that he couldn't save suddenly begins to have a face and a name, it's becoming real, something he can see, something he can lose.

The faceless omega has become the reader.

There's a real fear there now. Their lives are dangerous. They have enemies. If someone found out about the omega, it would be so easy to distract them, to tear them apart from the inside. He's scared for the first time in a long time because now there's something to lose. Something innocent and free from the bloodshed of their jobs, of their lives. Losing a member of the pack is something they all had to come to terms with. Any mission could be their last, they could die at any moment and that's something they've all had to accept. They were fine with that, they understood. It's part of the lifestyle. It's what they agreed to when they signed their names on the sheet of paper.

Now there's an omega.

Defenseless, blind to the true dangers of their lives, naive to the real horrors they're capable of. The omega didn't have a choice in this. If one of them doesn't return, then that's just the dangers of the job. If their omega is gone?

It will destroy all of them.

Well...that turned into way more than I expected but damn that felt good to finally say. Lord that's what I've been holding in ever since chapter 1 when y'all were asking "what about Ghost??" "What's Ghost's deal?" "What's going to happen to Ghost?" I've been sitting on this. I've been holding it in for so long you have no idea how good that was to finally put into words.

Obviously there's more and things will slowly get uncovered as the story goes on, but yeah. This...this is what that last little part of Chapter 8 means. This is really what Ghost was saying when he told the reader about his nightmares, about what happened to that omega he didn't even know the name of, the one he couldn't save.

It was never about some omega, it's always been the reader.

My condolences for the containment breach I get how having thousands of ppl say the same joke over and over in the notes of your genuine analysis post can get annoying 😭 😭😭😭 I’m extremely down to hear more about the differences between the ninth and tenth doctors if you have any other insights you want to share though!!! I’ve been turning your post over and over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken ever since I read it it’s so good

omg thank you for your condolences...it really is the containment breach of all time...let me think!! I have a MAJOR tenth doctor video essay I may or may not make so here are the cliff notes:

-To begin. Anne Carson wrote that to live beyond the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

-in many ways, the 10th Doctor is cursed from his inception b/c he is born at the end of the Doctor and Rose's romantic arc (from a certain point of view) AND YET he is born sheerly out of love for her / to love her

-(we all know the fanon--or is it canon?--idea that Ten's face was subconciously selected to be one that Rose would like, and he's gone for her from the beginning...hello, The Christmas Invasion.)

-all that said, by the time The Parting of the Ways occurs, Rose and Nine have completed a full narrative arc:

-Nine whisked Rose away from the life of boredom and sheltered drudgery she experienced on the estate; she brought life back into the eyes of a hardened war veteran/The Last of the Time Lords

-more importantly, they complete a kind of mutualistic ultimate sacrifice (in a Shakesperian sense?) wherein Rose 'becomes' the Doctor by absorbing the literal heart of the TARDIS (we don't have time to get into that) and erasing the Daleks into dust, finishing the last of the Time War AND saving the Doctor's life

-he immediately returns the favor, absorbing the energy that's destroying her with a kiss (let it be known--the ONLY kiss between the Doctor and Rose Tyler proper--neither Tentoo or Cassandra really count imo), returning her to humanity, life, and safety

-all that said, Nine dies both saving AND being saved by Rose in a kind of unrivaled (?) parity between Doctor and companion. it's perfect synthesis.

-THEN 10 is born. uh-oh.

It is here that I would like to quote Michael Kinnucan's fabulous essay 'The Gods Show Up' on Greek tragedies:

The tragic hero is complete. You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) even before he is dead. For an instant he is something like divine. And then he dies, because there’s nothing left to do. The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask.

I think one of the most fascinating 10 v. 9 moments is that one scene that got cut where Rose says "I miss him." and the Doctor replies "Me too."

As many people in the notes of that original post point out (god help me) 10 is ALSO born IMMEDIATELY into heartbreak--whatever vestigal version of Nine lives inside him died with the despair of losing Rose

-TEN is the man that went sauntering away. perhaps that's part of why Ten is so terrified of/resentful towards regeneration. I think he's lived precisely the worst cost of it.

-The notion of 'talking after death' and 'wearing a face that's a mask' is a existentialist take on regeneration itself--ten EPITOMIZES this tragic hero archetype, esp. after Doomsday (literally! Doomsday!!)

-during his life, I wonder if Nine already considers himself lost in a sense? He's lived past the Time War, past the destruction of everything, and he's also the first NuWho Doctor. HIS ability to indulge in love (even in mortality, given his short lifespan) is different.

-TEN on the other hand has that INCREDIBLY frightening (for him) confrontation with Sarah Jane in School Reunion--knitting him back into canon continuum of Doctor Who, stitching him to the myth of The Doctor that has to live on and on and on in perpetuity--and seems VERY haunted by (im)mortality

-How much time does Ten spend running from Jack? A human being who CAN follow him to the end of time? Ten can't decide if he wants to be mortal or immortal, human or Time Lord. Think of the way he acts with Martha, with Wilf, with Donna. He is totally frozen inside of the space of his seasons. He has time paralysis (fatal, for a Time Lord)

-he is the first doctor that we see reallllly try to stave off regeneration

-That's why there's a certain frantic escapism to his adventures with Rose in S2--he knows, more than she does, that they are hurtling toward's disaster.

-he can't love Rose in a consumate way, even if he wanted to (he wants to) b/c he's trapped inside of his myth. he's like sisyphus. or that guy getting his liver ripped out by the eagle. Nine and Rose are lines that can cross. Ten and Rose are parallel lines. if they touch, the universe dissolves. hence why the narrative/God/Russel T. Davies had to lock her away in another universe

anways!

Ten once canonically carved a statue of Rose by hand with every inch of her body absolutely perfect, from memory, and I think that's crazy

awake with you | s.todoroki

♡ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 1.7K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: ua student!au, angst, comfort, fluff.

♡ summary: during the night, bad things happen but your boyfriend is always there to keep them away. by your side always, shoto todorki makes it his mission to fight your demons and make sure you know that you’re loved.

♡ warning(s): please read ! character death, mentions of car accidents, nightmares, guilt, lack of sleep, but a lot of fluff and the best boyfriend in the whole world :(

♡ author’s note(s): guys! it’s shoto’s birthday, so here i am postiing this shoto request from anon a while back, i hope you all enoy and have celebrating the beautiful boy’s bday <3

♡ masterlist | requests

it was hard for you to sleep.

harder, when shoto wasn’t around.

sometimes it was your thoughts that kept you up; late at night— dark thoughts that swirled around in your head and slowly poisoned your brain with heavy black venom. it was hard to sleep when your mind was heavy with fear, but ever since dating shoto todoroki; those nights became easier and sleep wasn’t so hard to come by.

you weren’t so sure what it was about your boyfriend that made it easier for you to get some shut eye; it’s not like he really knew either. todoroki just didn’t like seeing you in pain, the way your face twisted with discomfort or the way sleepy tears would wet your cheeks under the moonlight— but you had somewhat of an idea, that his fresh peppermint smell and warm arms are what often helped you.

shoto would so lovingly sneak into your room, no matter the time, dusk or dawn— he would hold you tight under the sheets until you drifted off to dream land. even if it meant being teased by the others for stumbling out of your room in the morning, his pretty hair a wild mess creating the image that’d you’d both been up to no good, he’d face it all for you, over and over again.

but tonight, your loving, caring and doting boyfriend was nowhere to be seen— everyone’s second internships had begun and todoroki had chosen to work with his father along with izuku and katsuki, so it was no doubt that they wouldn’t be home until late. what with endeavour being the number one and all.

your friends knew about your struggles to sleep, of course, todoroki bluntly mentioning how you ‘like to sleep together’ to soothe your nightmares ( iida had lectured you about it after, saying it was inappropriate while deku and ochako turned as red as your boyfriend’s hair ) so offered to stay up with you— but you needed rest, today’s training sessions  having taken a toll on your body, and wave them off with a smile laced with tiredness.

you could call him, he wouldn’t mind and you know it— but he’s with his father and that takes enough out of him as it is.

you decide, instead, to trudge to the dual quirked boy’s bedroom, instantly calmed by his sweet peppermint scent embedded into every inch of his dorm. you swipe one of his clean sweaters straight from the closet before hitting the lights and snuggling into his bed.

tonight would be fine, todoroki would come home, wrap you in his arms and with the aid of his scent surrounding you— you would sleep safe and soundly.

is what you hoped as you drifted off to the land of dreams.

when you were younger, you watched your older brother, haru, get hit by a car.

the scene haunts you to this very day, crawling up on you while you rest at night— choking you out in your dreams. you see it now, feet glued to the ground as you’re forced to watch the younger version of you, mess with your older brother using your new found quirk. your parents had called it scenery, back then your powerful quirk had been their pride and joy, giving you the ability to create a mirage in a certain targets mind— make them see things that weren’t really there.

back then it was fun to play tricks on your sibling— you made haru see all of his worst nightmares, everything but the road.

everything but the oncoming car.

everything but his untimely death.

you want to scream at little you— tell her to stop and that it’s not funny anymore as she forces your brother back into the road— he’s giggling, he doesn’t know it yet and neither do you. but the words you want to say die down deep in your throat, suffocating you from the inside although they burn at your lungs to burst through.

why cant you speak? why cant you stop her?

adrenaline trickles into your blood stream as you will yourself to run out into the street and protect haru from the oncoming traffic just as he slips off of the sidewalk. your senses are blown out of the water, static noise filling your ears and intertwining with childish screams and the sound of a not so distant honking horn.

you claw harshly at your throat. speak. save him. for god’s sake; do something.

“you’ll kill him! stop! you’re going to kill him!”

the flickering of artificial, yellow light behind your closed eyes has you jolting awake, sweat forming at your brow and hands clenched tightly around your boyfriend’s plain bedsheets. your gaze darts across the room while your heart thumps loudly in your ribcage from the fear that struck you in your dream and finally, your stare settles on a shirtless, bewildered shoto todoroki. his face is a little scratched up no doubt from being on his father’s patrol and he looks exhausted but that doesn’t stop the concern he has for you taking over his expression. “yn—?”

“s-sho,” you hate how your voice caves so easily, the single syllable of your nickname for him falling wetly from chapped lips. todoroki is by your side in an instant, not caring that he’s only half dressed and half awake. he’ll deal with that later.

with tender hands shoto cups the back of your head, letting you sink into the warmth of his flesh. you reach out for your boyfriend and he’s there, taking your free hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze to help ground you. “love, what happened? why didn’t you call? you know i don’t mind—” his timbre voice fills your ears like warm honey, calming your rapid breathing but all you can do is shake your head.

“nightmare ‘n you were working,” you pant, cutting him off while the death grip on your lover’s hand begins increasing. you feel so far from the ground, the scene of haru’s death dancing across your mind. “i killed him, again—“

shoto watches your body twitch with fear and your usually glimmering eyes gloss over in away that makes him feel sick. you’re not here with him yet, still tangled up in the black string of your bad dreams. the world around the dual eyed boy begins to change and it seems you’ve activated your quirk by accident— showing him scenes of the day your brother died.

you screw your eyes shut as flashes of his body tangle with reality to the point where you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. you’re losing control of yourself so easily, fresh sets of tears stinging their way down your streaked cheeks. trapped. you feel trapped like a bird in a cage even while you’re awake and the sounds of cars and screaming burn at your ears once more.

make it stop, please.

“yn... come back to me love, i’m right here,” todoroki’s calm voice cuts through the suffocating song of death, dragging you back to reality while the effects of your quirk drift away. his fingers, although contrasting temperatures, now cup your cheeks to tilt your face towards him so that your eyes lock with his under the crescent moon. “you didn’t kill him. that wasn’t you. it wasn’t your fault.”

you blink away more tears like a helpless child, chest heaving but todoroki doesn’t give up. “but—“

“no.” your boyfriend says softly, yet sternly, leaning down to place an eskimo kiss to your nose. your eyes flutter shut at his simple gesture, although it raises saftey and warmth across your body— black radiates behind your closed eyelids, no longer plagued broken bones and blood. it’s easy to keep breathing from there, focusing on that as todoroki pulls you into his lap and the sheets fall away from your body.

“no,” you repeat back to him while shoto’s arms settle on your waist and his familiar scent of fresh peppermint fills your senses. “not my fault.”

it wasn’t your fault, that day the car had come speeding down a usually safe road in a residential area. the accident was a hit and run, but being a child made you feel every ounce of the blame. shaking the thought away you curl into your lover’s chest, listening for sounds of his heartbeat while he toys with a lose string on his sweater— the one you wear.

“that’s right, good girl...not your fault, here with me yet, love?”

when you glance up, todoroki is looking right back down at you— brows creased with worry but there’s love in his stare, overwhelming amounts that make you hum into his bare chest, grounded by the feeling of his skin against yours. “present and accounted for,” his chest rumbles with relieved laughter, soothing you even more. “thank you, sho. i’m sorry for making you do this so late at night.”

this time, shoto shakes his head— sending locks of red and white flying. “don’t thank me and don’t apologise,” his words are feather light in the dark while he manoeuvres you both onto his back to settle into bed. you’re about to mention that he’s still half in his suit, but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, already closing his eyes. “i’m yours, your boyfriend and i’m going to support you no matter what. i’ve got you, okay? you’re always here for me so i’ll do my best to do the same for you. what kind of man would i be if i wasn’t?”

“a very unmanly man,” you tease with a kitten like yawn, already feeling the confines of a more comfortable sleep, taking over.

todoroki rolls his eyes but pulls you closer to him anyways. “you’ve been spending too much time with kirishima.”

“at least i don’t spend everyday working with bakugou, now that’s true nightmare.” you counter, narrowly missing a pinch to the side from your boyfriend.

the pair of you sleep soundly that night, wrapped in each other’s arms. you feel safe, knowing that nothing could ever harm you, as long as you were with him. shoto todoroki would give anything for to you to have a goodnight’s rest. no matter what. even if it meant staying awake with you and being late to patrol with endeavour the next day.

not like he cared, he hated his dad anyway.

demon lover

+ pairing. incubus! oikawa / fem reader / incubus! kuroo

+ genre. dark, smut

+ word c. 2,378

+ warnings. snuff, dub/non con, implied somnophilia and stalking, facial, choking, fellatio, creampie

+ author n. part 2 of monster. there are some references from it, but u should be able to understand the story even if u didn’t read that one before :)

it has been around five weeks since your encounter with oikawa and you’ve felt restless ever since.

it doesn’t matter where you are —on the streets, at uni, even in your own bathroom— there’s always an unsettling feeling of being watched.

but the nights are worse.

as soon as you close your eyes, images of him smirking down at you plague your mind and dreams. he’s repeatedly having his way with you, fucking you and making you come over and over again until you wake up. leaving you sore and wide awake for the rest of the night.

the days go by and it’s as if your energy is being sucked out of you, not even coffee nor energy drinks are able to keep you awake and away from the haunting dreams.

your body feels weak, you are weak. your fragile-looking body, covered in bruises and dull, sunken eyes easily attract looks of concern from your friends and family. but what’s most concerning it’s the fact that even if you’re restless, you keep thinking about that night.

your body and soul ache for him and you wonder if it’ll take another year until you can see him again.

it’s not until you’re at your weakest, delirious, and on the verge of insanity when he shows up. or at least that’s what you hope, being unable to distinguish your dreams from reality anymore.

“you’ve been such a good girl,” he coos in your ear, stroking your hair out of your face and leaning closer, “have you been waiting for me?”

you nod frantically, whimpering when his lips touch your cheek. he shuts you up with his mouth, his thumbs grazing the skin of your cheekbones and making you melt.

the blissful state you’re in vanishes when an unknown pair of hands start removing your clothes.

your eyes widen, trying to get a look at the intruder but oikawa keeps your face fixed on him with a strong grip on your jaw.

“i brought a friend, hope you don’t mind.”

you take a peek over his shoulder, and your eyes meet a pair of menacing ones. you recognize him immediately as oikawa’s friend from the party —another demon.

“hello, kitten. don’t mind me; i just had to see with my own eyes the pretty pussy that he has been bragging about.”

the dark-haired demon’s lips curl up in a smirk when he sees the troubled look on your face. but it’s true, oikawa hasn’t shut up about you so it's reasonable kuroo asked him to share.

his hands roam over your legs, forcing them open and keeping a firm grip on them when you try resisting him. he takes his cock out of his pants with one hand and lines it up with your entrance, marveling at the sight of your folds.

“oh and you can call me master too.”

he slides in without warning nor prepping you, the burn of your walls stretching as they make room for his cock bringing tears to your eyes.

you don’t want him. it should be oikawa, not him.

“s-stop, please,” you whine, looking at oikawa when kuroo refuses to acknowledge your pleas. but his eyes harden, a dark look taking over his features.

“don’t be rude to our guest and shut up.”

his words break your heart, tears now falling freely down your cheeks as you keep being fucked by the other demon.

“shit, kitten. i can barely fit inside your pussy. let me stretch you out, yeah?” kuroo groans as he keeps forcing his way inside your walls, his girth finally sheathing in and causing him to breath out in relief, “that’s it, sweetheart.”

“isn’t she amazing?” oikawa smiles brightly at his friend, craning his neck to the side to observe your pussy being abused by kuroo’s cock, “the neediest cunt i’ve ever had.”

you clench involuntarily at oikawa’s words which make kuroo groan.

his hand slaps your thigh only to grab a handful of it and squeeze it, “i knew you’d love my cock.”

you’re about to protest when kuroo places your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, resting his upper weight on top of you.

“no! wait– please. too much! ‘s too much, please!” you try to push him away, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms but your desperate wails fall on deaf ears.

kuroo’s pace is relentless, every graze of his cock against your snug walls feels like fire.

your eyes lock with oikawa’s, he looks pleased —much to your dismay— and you feel your heart drop when he catches you staring and smiles.

“enjoying yourself?”

a cry escapes from your lips when kuroo picks up his pace, the distinctive sound of his cock thrusting inside your pussy taking over the bedroom.

“fuck, shut up. you’re getting annoying,” kuroo groans but you’re way too preoccupied with the pain to register his words.

you keep sobbing your heart out, your desperate cries getting louder as he continues his assault on you.

his large hand suddenly covers your mouth, concealing your sounds and making your eyes widen.

“i told you to shut the fuck up, stupid whore!”

“can you control yourself and not kill her before i get a turn?” oikawa’s irritated tone reaches your ears, “you always do this.”

the tears refuse to stop, kuroo’s actions plus oikawa’s words wounding you both physically and emotionally.

“i’m close, fuck– so close,” kuroo’s grunts in your ear, the snap of his hips picking up its pace as he draws to his end. 

a few thrusts later and he’s finally reaching his high, emptying himself inside of you. his cock pulses as it pumps his cum inside your raw walls, moaning in relief at the way they wrap around him.

once he lets go of you, you curl up around yourself. your soft cries are the only audible thing in your bedroom, pain tugging at your heartstrings as the weight of what just happened falls on you. you’re so lost in your own suffering that you miss the quiet sound of clothes rustling.

it’s not until oikawa’s familiar scent reaches your nose that you look up —teary-eyed and with your eyelashes wet with tears— and observe as he crawls up his way on top of you.

“will you be good to your master?” he asks while wiping your tears away, pouting at you mockingly.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re asking for, your mind too hazy and your body too weak to comprehend what's going on around you. 

but he goes in anyway.

his hard cock enters you easily, sliding in thanks to kuroo’s cum still coating your insides and bottoms out almost instantly.

“shit, it feels way better when you’re awake.” 

he starts a slow pace, basking in the feeling. his hands start kneading your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers, and then running the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.

the sensation has you involuntarily gushing around his cock, wet sounds starting to echo around the room and prompting kuroo to lazily stroke his hardening cock again.

“naughty kitten, you want more don’t you?” a devious look takes over kuroo’s features, but he instantly dismisses your presence by turning to oikawa instead, “does she give good head?”

“why don’t you–hah, see for yourself,” oikawa struggles through his words, brows furrowing in pleasure as his hips collide against yours.

kuroo wastes no time, making his way next to your head while his hand keeps pumping at his now fully erect cock. the weight of it falls on your parted lips, running the leaking head over them and coating them with pre-cum.

you’re not given a warning, kuroo’s fingers get a tight hold on your jaw and force it open so he can slide in, the head poking at your inner cheek and making it bulge out in an obscene way.

“there you go, kitten. you are way better when you shut up,” he smirks down at you, thrusting up into your mouth, “all you needed was my fat cock.”

drool leaks out of your mouth but at this point, you don’t care anymore. you are drained, basically a corpse for them to fuck and fill with their semen.

you have a hard time trying to focus your vision on the demons before you, your head throbbing at the lack of energy. but it only gets worse when you feel a pair of hands fumbling around your throat.

“if only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now,” oikawa praises you as his hands wrap a collar around your neck, almost moaning at the sight underneath him, “my good girl, do you like your master’s cock?”

the leather fabric tightens around your neck, the leash allowing oikawa to jerk your head up and making kuroo’s cock slide out of your mouth in the process.

“oi! don’t hog her!”

your groggy brain barely registers them arguing over who gets to control you.

“shut the fuck up. i found her first,” oikawa tries to get his point across by lifting your legs over his shoulders and pounding even harder, your whimpers turning louder at the new position. 

“but you’re fucking her cunt! at least give me control over her head!”

oikawa’s too busy thrusting his cock inside your plush walls that he eventually gives in. once the leash falls on kuroo’s hands, he wastes no time and pulls your face towards him, making you gag around his cock.

your muscles contract at the intrusion which only heightens the blissful feeling, transmitting waves of pleasure through his body.

“ah fuck, i can feel her trying to suck my cum out of me. such a cum-thirsty whore.”

what both demons miss, it's the way your face starts to turn purple. the tight grip of the collar plus kuroo’s tugging at the leash preventing the air from reaching your lungs.

with the last bits of energy you've left, you try to rip the collar off of you. your hands desperately claw at the material as your eyes widen in realization of what will come next if you’re unable to free yourself from their grip.

but your actions seem to anger kuroo, who growls and drops the leash only to grab you by your head and shove your face all the way down his length.

you start to choke, his thick girth taking so much space in your mouth and when you try to take a deep breath through your nose, he pushes in even more. coughs erupt from your chest, his pre-cum and your saliva reaching your lungs while dark spots start to cloud your vision. their voices sound far away, numbness taking over your body as you start growing dizzy and a violaceous hue tints the skin of your face at the lack of oxygen.

both demons pay no mind, too busy chasing their ends to notice how you’ve stopped fighting them. their moans echo freely all over the room, the lewd sounds of their cocks abusing your holes bringing a sense of hunger to them.

“shit, baby you feel so good. i’m gonna cum in your sweet, needy cunt and fill you with it m’kay?” oikawa announces, his orgasm rapidly approaching and inciting him to thrust harder, getting lost in the way your walls rub against his twitching cock.

kuroo lets out a low groan as he finally cums in your mouth, pulling out just enough to paint your face with it and smear it all over your lips. he sighs in relief, smiling at the sight of your pretty face covered in his sticky cum. the way it sticks to your eyelashes and drips down your face to your parted lips etching itself on his mind.

he can’t remember the last time he had such an erotic sight. 

but when he notices a lack of movement from you after a minute, he couldn't help but curse out loud. thankfully, it goes unnoticed by oikawa since his moans got louder, his own orgasm sending shivers down his body and causing him to lose focus on his surroundings for a while.

“ngh– fuck,” oikawa spills inside your pussy, his cock throbbing as load after load pumps out of him and fills you to the brim.

his eyes are closed, breaths ragged as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. it’s not until he opens them to admire your fucked out face when he finally finds out.

he’s confused for a moment before it dawns on him. he slaps your thigh gently, calling out your name in a futile attempt to get you to answer him back.

“sweetheart, this isn’t funny.”

but as he turns to face kuroo in search of an explanation, one look at him is enough to answer his question. 

“i swear i didn’t mean to!”

a nervous-looking kuroo, fully clothed by now, stands awkwardly by the door. he’s well aware he fucked up—big time.

“fucking hell!” oikawa rakes his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “did i not tell you to control yourself?!”

he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness since he did grow a liking to you thanks to his nocturn visits. but the sentiment quickly fades away when his eyes fall on your form once again. a pleased smile appears on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of your legs spread wide open, his cum seeping out of your pussy.

“she remembered how much i like this,” he coos to himself, plunging one finger between your folds and smearing the fluids.

he’s so lost on you that he doesn’t notice kuroo disappearing from your room and leaving him behind—not like he cares. his hands reach out to smooth out your hair, traveling down the side of your face and stroking the skin of your cheeks with his long fingers. 

you look so peaceful, so pretty, covered in their fluids, and with the choker still adorning your neck.

the nostalgic feeling returns, tugging at his heart and prompting a gentle smile to take over his lips. with a kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips, oikawa finally bids his goodbyes.

“don’t worry, baby girl. i have a spot in hell saved just for you.”

Arisu's Bunny

Characters: Arisu Ryohei, Hatter, Chishiya Shuntaro, Niragi Suguru, Kuina Hikari, a bunch of dead bodies

Genre: Horror. Like.... oh my goodness do not read if you are not a fan of gross gorey type stuff

2.8k words

It's prime time for a spooky spook.

So, of course, i wrote a nice and haunting little fic. ✨

Warning, it does mention gore, vomit, and a little bit of pure fuckery.

Arisu came back with a bunny one day.

He came back to the Beach, as always, a new pain buried in his soft eyes and Usagi dutifully at his side like a knight and her lord. His shirt was fine, if dirty, but he had something in there that bulged it out ever so slightly. Others didn’t think twice, more focused on drowning their pains and tired bones and muscles in other, more enthralling and dopamine covered activities.

Hatter noticed first, only because he came to collect personally from his most favoured members of the Beach. The mass wriggled ever so slightly, and Arisu never removed his arms from supporting it. Curious, he had asked him.

“ He was alone.” Arisu had responded, a smile that was never faked on his lips.

“ What is it?”

“ He was alone.” He repeats, and he turns his head downwards as he pulls the collar of his shirt down, revealing the head of a small leporine. Dark, a shade not much different than either men, and dark woeful eyes that stared out into the world at the same time it was tucked against Arisu’s tan skin.

Hatter smiles. It was awfully cute, and ever so small. “ I see~” He croons, and he reaches a finger out to pet the small bunny. The fur was exactly as he expected, soft and smooth, the way as one would expect any young furred animal to feel. Gentle, too innocent for a world such as this, such as a world a rabbit is born within.

Small teeth nip into his skin, and Hatter pulls away. “ Ah, a feisty one.”

“ Sorry. He must be hungry.” Arisu tells him, and Hatter found no reason to doubt him.

Hatter lets him keep the rabbit, since Arisu was fond of the small creature, and he didn’t see any reason to bar Arisu from finding his happiness and comfort in it.

The second was Chishiya, when he sees Arisu petting the bunny as he sits cross legged. The man was playing with the bunny, pulling along a small stalk of greens along the ground, the bunny hopping after it. Chishiya stayed in the background only to watch. There was no reason to approach the man after all, and Chishiya had nothing else to do than watch Arisu play with his little pet.

It fit him, really. Meek, yet able to escape danger when it mattered to such a fragile life. They were both smart as well, even if they did not seem like it at first. One look at them only offered the image that couldn’t harm a soul.

“ There there….. it’s alright.” Arisu starts speaking to what could only be towards the rabbit, Chishiya cocking an eyebrow in a lazed interest. Arisu pets the black bunny with a crooked finger, the bunny climbing up onto his lap as if it were seeking comfort. “ It’s alright…. You’ll be fed, okay? Just wait patiently.”

The rabbit, to Chishiya, didn’t look at all stressed and in need of any form of comforting, but Chishiya was no animal expert. He didn’t care much in the first place, but Arisu clearly could care for whatever ailed his small furry companion.

Arisu never looks up, repeating himself in that same tone, petting the bunny which rested in the nook of his lap. Chishiya soon grows bored of watching and stalks off in hopes of reinvigorating his brain with something else.

The third was Niragi. Now, Niragi never saw the bunny in person, but he knew of the ball that seemingly has been holding Arisu’s attention these past days. He found the man digging in the communal fridge, plucking out little bits of vegetables here and there and setting them inside a shirt which has had the top part tied shut. Niragi stalks behind the man, who was too focused on choosing an appropriate selection to notice him, until Niragi slams the palm of his hand against the cool metal, soaking in the jump that nearly slams the top of Arisu’s head into the bottom of Niragi’s chin.

If it had, Niragi was sure a nice barrel would be pressed up against Arisu’s chest, no questions.

“ What are you up to, cornflower?” Niragi leans in, gun pressing against Arisu’s shoulder. Arisu doesn’t move, frozen and clutching a bag of celery in his hand. Niragi reaches over his shoulder and plucks the bag out, shaking it rather forcefully. “ For that little sack of rabbit meat, right? Whatcha gonna do about it after?”

“ What do you mean…?” Arisu’s voice is strained a little, possibly out of fear of spouting something Niragi wouldn’t like. A smart decision on his end.

Niragi smacks the bag against Arisu’s face anyways. “ You know what. You trying to make some rabbit stew?”

“ No! I wouldn’t…. I won’t do that to him!” Arisu yells, a touch louder than a few seconds earlier, and Niragi can’t help the smirk that curls against his lips.

“ Oh, you’re attached~” Niragi teases. “ Say, now that I’m thinking of it, I’m hungry…..” Niragi backs away as he drops the bag, Arisu fumbling to grab it.

Niragi turns around and gives a flippant wave, the sound of Arisu gripping that bag just a little too hard the only sound that mixes with the clack of Niragi’s footsteps.

“ Don’t…..”

Niragi stops just before the door, and he turns around. “ Don’t?” He barks a laugh, fingers drumming against his rifle. “ Are you telling me what to do? Hilarious…..” Niragi sneers. “ But I do what I fucking want.”

Arisu frowns, but makes no motion to step closer and challenge Niragi, Niragi waving and leaving for real.

“…. You’re not going to.” He looks down at the bag of celery. “ He must be so hungry now.”

—

Arisu was wandering around the Beach by himself that night, rabbit in arms. The bunny rested comfortably, Arisu mindlessly petting it. Niragi thankfully didn’t hurt the rabbit, which was the only thing that calmed Arisu once he rushed back to his room to check on the small creature.

It took him maybe an hour, two at best, to calm his rabbit heartbeat.

People ignored him, just as Arisu ignored them. Many were too busy with each other, flirting and drinking their night away. It wasn’t his type of tea, much rather spending his time with his friend Usagi — and now his new friend, which rested in his arms.

Kuina waves at him when he passes by, and Arisu didn’t have an arm free to wave back. He does gives her a smile, Kuina visually perking up when he comes closer with his rabbit.

“ Oh my goodness Arisu where’d you get this?” Her voice held a genuine surprise and immediate awe for the small dark furred bunny, Arisu smiling in that same way he always has.

“ He was alone.” That was his answer, and Kuina doesn’t bother to make him explain further in favour of holding a curled finger towards the rabbit, who sniffs at her curiously before she even attempts to gently run her fingers along it.

“ Well, he is adorable.”

Arisu smiles at her, and Kuina continues to give her attention to the small rabbit for a little longer before she finally settles back. “ Thanks for letting me pet him.”

“ He liked it.” Arisu says as the rabbit stares blankly at whatever the rabbit wished.

Kuina smiles. Arisu smiles back.

Then, the bunny hops out of his arms and hops away, Arisu sitting there quietly. Kuina watches with mild shock. “ Your rabbit ran off-“

“ He’ll be okay, see?” Arisu points into the crowd, not a hint of worry painted on his face for a creature that he otherwise had been attached at the hip to for the day.

Kuina furrows her brows, and she looks at where he points, and her eyes widen.

“ Hey, Arisu?”

Arisu hums in acknowledgement, not at all lowering his arm or looking at her.

“ Is it me, or are you seeing that red stuff too, on the building. And…. is that in the shape of a rabbit?” She squints, the lights only doing so much for a wall that had no further illumination.

Arisu doesn’t respond, instead gently smiling.

He smiles, and Kuina looks onwards in confusion until a sharp, putrid smell of blood hits her nose. She covers it, and nearly gags by how pungent it was. One look to Arisu and her current worry of the smell was masked with how calm Arisu was.

Arisu smiles, and points, and Kuina snaps her attention to whatever this man kept pointing at.

She wishes she never looked back out.

The people that she was so used to seeing splashing about and dancing, bodies bare to the world or consumed more alcohol and drugs than she could fathom, voices of joy and laughter and bliss that always filled the space at all hours of the day, were all rotting before her eyes.

“ Wh….. What is g-going on here……” She breathes out, eyes wide and taking in the horrific scene. Kuina couldn’t move, limbs locked to that spot besides Arisu as people stares in horror at themselves as pieces of themselves shlepped off, falling onto the floor, into the clear waters of the pool that was quickly turning red.

The screams came perhaps not even a second later, loud and horrified, joined by many others. Kuina has never heard so much fear in this capacity. She felt she had to throw up.

“ A-Arisu….” She chokes out. “ Arisu what’s….”

“ He was so hungry, Kuina.”

“ ‘He’? Arisu, what…. what are you saying-“

“ He was so hungry.” A small, sort of giggly laugh erupts from Arisu. A laugh that, out of context, wouldn’t be at all so bone-chilling to the woman sitting next to him. Kuina shivers as Arisu looks at her with the same exact eyes, the same gentle smile as Arisu always gave to his friends that only spoke of trust and friendly meanings.

This didn’t feel friendly in the slightest.

“ Arisu…. What did you do.”

Arisu tilts his head, and he gently grabs her chin, forcing her to look as people fell to their knees, down to rotting muscles and broken screams that fell into silent, yet morbid horror tenfold before her eyes. Horror that even all these days and weeks of being in the games couldn’t ever match, all happening in unison.

Kuina feels her dinner come up, and she couldn’t keep it down when the smell was so powerful and unescapable. Arisu rubs her back as she leans forward, expelling her insides all over the ground, whispering comforting words.

“ You’re alright…. I got you…..”

The smell was even more disgusting, mixing in with sharp iron and rot and pool water hanging heavy in the area. Kuina felt lightheaded, Arisu pulling her close in a hug.

“ There there….” He continues to rub her back, and she just barely sees a flash of white approaching, coming closer. His name barely passes her lips, but Arisu speaks it loud and true.

“ Hi Chishiya.”

Chishiya says nothing, not that Kuina could hear, and Arisu doesn’t let her go as Chishiya sits besides them. He says nothing, and Kuina is halfway morbidly curious as to his thoughts.

“ Why are you two unaffected?” He says, not a hint of a waver in his tone.

Arisu smiles, and he points again. “ He was hungry.”

“…. Who was?”

Arisu says nothing, and Chishiya looks among the piles of rot that infested the Beach now. The inside was much the same, the man having been inside just a few moments prior and see people stop in their tracks as years of decomposition set on them without warning, many in shock at the near comical speed it set. He doesn’t think many remained alive, and Chishiya wondered if there was a reason for Arisu, Kuina, and him to remain alive.

If anyone else was lucky to avoid death.

Chishiya was able to bear the smell, although its disgusting odour did little for him. It did even less for his friend there, judging by the yellowish puddle that resides in front of her.

They sit there, Arisu never lowering his hand, and Chishiya trails his eyes upwards at the red marking, at how it seemed to be pulsing now, as if it were alive. If Chishiya wasn’t a witness to the spontaneous rapid necrosis, he would show a little more interest, however this seemed to be the lesser of the two evils.

“ He’s so thankful for the meal.” Arisu says, clear and calm. His smiles spreads wider, pure and genuine happiness at knowing his….. what Chishiya can only assume was the rabbit’s hunger was being satiated.

Chishiya didn’t believe that one rabbit would cause such….. results, though. But there was no explanation otherwise for this phenomenon at hand.

“ What the fuck!” Niragi’s voice catches on loud and clear, and internally Chishiya curses the rabbit for not killing Niragi with the rest. He sees the man storm between piles of meaningless flesh and bones, eyes focused on Arisu and hand clenched over his nose as if it would ward off the scent. “ What is all this?!”

Arisu only smiles, and Niragi only gets closer and closer, like a train coming to its station. This particular train was livid, and Niragi could only think to blame one man, the same who hasn’t stopped gleefully and honestly smiling.

Hands grip Arisu’s shirt and hoist him up, and Arisu hangs there as if he were nothing more than a limp ragdoll, Niragi growling and shaking the man.

“ You. Why the fuck are you smiling, you lunatic blueberry?!” His head jerks behind him. “ Everyone started rotting! Everyone! And you know what I saw? Your stupid rabbit! Chewing on someone’s leg that fell off their body!”

Arisu’s grin only spreads, a twinkle of pride in his eyes. It only infuriates Niragi even more, and Niragi throws him, Arisu landing in what used to be a teenage girl, now just scrambles of dead tissue, bodily fluids, and remains of a skeleton. It coats his skin, his shirt, his hair.

Niragi spits in his general direction, sneering.

Arisu tries to sit up, but Niragi wasn’t patient enough, storming over and crashing the butt of his rifle against Arisu’s skull, forcing it against the mush. Kuina spits up another bout of her insides, and Chishiya watches in silence as Niragi grinds his gun against Arisu’s skull, sparking pain.

“ If you’re gonna smile so innocently, like there isn’t all this around you, then you must be fucked up in the head. Better screw it on properly, eh?!” Niragi cackles.

Arisu says nothing. Not like he could, when opening his mouth would mean tasting rot and what may be a hip bone, which was jabbing into Arisu’s neck at an uncomfortable angle.

“ Niragi…. st-stop….” Kuina coughs out, only a fraction used to the smell that enveloped the Beach like a heat wave. “ Leave him….”

Niragi does not. He instead flips his gun around so the barrel was against Arisu’s head, the only thing that let them know he was somehow still kicking was the ever so slight shift of his head to breathe, caked in the scent of death and decay.

“ I might as well put you out of your stupid misery.”

“…… You’re not.” Arisu mutters out, half garbled in the mush, and Niragi drives the muzzle farther.

“ Like you can say anything about that, Mr. Smile Face.”

Arisu only smiles, and he closes his eyes as tears fall from his eyes. “ I’m sorry, then.”

Niragi hesitates for a split second when he apologizes, then scoffs, finger on the trigger.

“ Whatever.”

Arisu cries on the ground, and before Niragi could even pull, putting a bullet in Arisu’s skull, the red rabbit glows, finishes its charge.

Arisu feels the pressure lift, hears Niragi scream in pain, hears Kuina pass out from far too much gore than the poor girl could take in one sitting and crash against Chishiya, the only thing keeping her from breaking her head open on the ground, and he smiles in a genuine paternal love as he rises from the remains of a human being, caked in rotten viscera, eyes raised to the sky as Niragi’s picked and torn apart before his eyes by something unseen to them.

“ He didn’t like being threatened. Or to be left alone.” Arisu giggles, not a hint of any malice in it. “ You make a great dessert, Niragi. Really, it’s a compliment.”

Niragi only responds in a terrible scream that even makes Chishiya feel a little sorry for him. Blood rains down, splattering over the three, Chishiya shifting a little farther underneath the beach umbrella to shield himself from Niragi’s blood splattering downwards.

Arisu stands up, wiping away chunks of flesh from his clothes, and he looks towards the destruction, a small black rabbit hopping over to Arisu as he bends down to scoop the small, innocent-looking thing.

“ Are you nice and full now?” Arisu coos, and Chishiya sits there in silence as Arisu walks away, saying nothing of the strip of a familiar red that lay caught between its ears. After all, he needed more time to… process.

Arisu can only smile in a genuine, pure bliss though, glad the bunny wasn’t so alone and starving anymore.

Arisu would never let the bunny be hungry and alone…. ever again.

savior next door

im on a writing trance so expect a lot of writings from me hehe, here's what i wrote last night, enjoy besties.

- fluff & a tiny little bit of smut (not really lol) | not proofread, sorry

Pairing: HarryxY/N

WC: 3.8k

the one where Harry is Y/N's shy and virgin neighbor.

The constant feeling of uneasiness has been haunting Harry ever since he almost got himself in a car accident almost a year ago.

It hadn’t been his fault – he was crossing a random street in a quiet area of New York when a hand grabbed his upper arm and pushed him out of the crosswalk, where a car speeded through without even slowing down. “Watch where you’re going, you’re going to get yourself killed.” The woman who’d saved his life scolded at him with a worrying look on her face. He remembers her eyes were glowing in such a splendor, something he’d never seen before – it intrigued him to know who his life savior was, but before he could even make a comment, the woman stormed off and got lost between the seas of people around the corner, leaving Harry in an unsuccessful search for her.

Harry has never been a people person. He always avoids big crowds, social events and especially, study groups. His university journey so far has been a lonely and reserved one, having movie marathons when not studying or discovering new kinds of herbal teas. His only form of social interaction is the occasional chat with his across-the-hall neighbor Niall, whom he considered -kind of- a close friend; his only one, in fact.

“Heard someone’s moving in to the flat next to yours.” Niall knows Harry isn’t exactly a social butterfly, and maybe it’s the fact that Harry is younger than him and how he seems like such a harmless human what makes him feel like he needs to help him. Harry just shrugs at his comment, not really interested in any possible intruder to their peaceful hallway (where both their apartments and the currently empty one in the corner were the only three ones on their floor). And maybe it was the fact that it has been almost a month since Niall’s comment what made him furious when he saw the cardboard boxes on their hallway, forgetting about the possibility of having a new neighbor.

The sudden sound of glass crashing and a loud yell snaps Harry out of his frustrated trance, stepping around the huge boxes scattered around the door next to his to knock on the doorway of the open door. Even if he really isn’t very fond of having a new neighbor that doesn’t mean he’s not going to check on them to see if they’ve gotten hurt. “Is everything alright?” He still can’t see whoever is inside, but he decides on waiting if no one replies to step inside. But he doesn’t need to, because as he was about to make his way inside, a head pops up from one side of the entry hallway, assuming that’s where the kitchen is, as he notices the apartment is a replica of his own, but inverted.

“Hey, sorry, just dropped my favorite cup.” His breath gets caught on his throat when her life savior’s face appears in sight, the cutest frown adorning her features and her sweet voice resonating through his brain. Her eyes, exactly like he remembers shine with an unbeatable glow, like a thousand diamonds under a microscope, but the image he had of her on his brain doesn’t make her justice – she is even more beautiful than he remembers. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. You live in this floor?” Harry can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that apparently she doesn’t remember him.

“Y-yes, next door. H-harry.” He stutters. Her presence just makes him so nervous, he can’t help it. She is probably one of, if not the, most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are hypnotizing, the softness of them which appears to be constant warms his insides and he thinks he could spend hours upon hours staring right at them.

“Do I know you? I feel like I know you.” Y/N’s thinks out loud, her expression alluding to her thoughts trying to place him somewhere in her memories.

“Uh, I- I don’t think so?” Harry feels embarrassed, so he couldn’t come up with a better answer. He is silently hoping she doesn’t remember the time they met all that time ago – this is his chance, he thinks, to redeem himself, for her to see him as a normal dude instead of this clumsy and shy boy who couldn’t even thank her when she saved him from being ran over by a car.

He wishes he could read her mind. What’s her first impression on him? Does she think he’s cute? She probably doesn’t. He thinks she’s too pretty to even spare a second glance at someone like him; a shy boy with bad posture and still breaking out in his forehead despite being 22. And she, Y/N, a woman who could make anyone her own, a woman who probably makes every head turn her way when entering a room. Harry feels his chest deflate as his thoughts start beating him up.

During the course of her first two months living next door, Y/N and Harry barely interact. He keeps stealing glances her way whenever they run into each other in the hallway, getting shy and cheeks reddening when she catches him every time. He gets jealous whenever he hears her walking down the hallway from inside his apartment, obvious guests coming in and out of her apartment – and if the person (because he recalls hearing both men and women) is good enough, he can even hear her sometimes through the thin wall that divides their bedrooms, her headboard clearly mirroring his. He feels dirty and intrusive during nights like these, so he opts on putting headphones on, music playing in his phone to help him drift off to sleep.

But Y/N is fascinated by him, maybe not as much as he is with her, but enough to wonder how it’d be like to reallyhave him in her life. She knows he’s a very reserved man, her animated chats with Niall more usual than not drift towards Harry and how she wishes he’d just keep looking at her when she catches his eye instead of running away – not because her ego is enormous or anything, but she is aware of the obvious crush Harry has on her. “He’s not going to start conversation, you should just go for it.” She remembers Niall told her one night after having a small chat in his threshold; because all Niall wants is for Harry to put himself out there, but he knows he needs a little extra push.

But it all changes one night. A night Y/N drinks more than usual – shot after shot going down her throat making her feel nothing but dizzy, the sensation of puke going up her throat forcing her to call it a night. Barely making it out of the elevator she stumbles on her way to her door, and Harry hears her. The sound her combat books make is so engraved in Harry’s brain he knows it’s her after just a couple of steps.

“Fuck.” Harry hears the unmistakable sound of her keys, and how she’s clearly struggling to fit them inside the lock. After a loud banging sound and what sounds like her sliding down the door, he starts worrying about her and how she’s probably not going to make it inside her apartment without a little help. So he steps outside after sliding his old white vans on to find her on the floor leaning against her door, legs bent and elbows resting on either knee supporting her head.

“Y/N?” He calls her in a whisper. She shoots her head up immediately making her insides turn, and with unfocused eyes, she looks up at him and smiles fondly.

“Hey, pretty boy.” She greets him with a soft smile, eyes closing and opening again slowly and Harry feels his stomach erupt in a thousand butterflies. Did she just call him pretty boy?

“You need help?”

“Please.” Harry’s red cheeks don’t go unnoticed by her the moment she lifts her hand to give him her keys and she honestly thinks he might explode. He helps her get up and guides her inside her home with such gentle movements she could melt in his hold, and that’s when she decides (drunk out of her mind) she wants him to hold her again, soon. And while sober.

He lays her down in her bed and announces he’s going to take her shoes off, giving her enough time to object. “I always catch you staring, you know?” Her thoughts slip off her lips unannounced, but she doesn’t really care. Harry, on the other hand, freezes in his spot, one of her shoes still in hand and with wide eyes he connects their gazes for the second time that night.

“I- I… I’m sorry- I don’t mean to be c-creepy or anything I j-just-“

“Shh.” She cuts him off, his stuttering making its first appearance of the night. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.” She confesses and wiggles her feet so he can resume his actions. Harry’s brain is betraying him more than usual right now. His thoughts are everywhere, not a single coherent answer coming to mind, so he doesn’t do anything but finish helping her out of her shoes in silence.

“Goodn-night, Y/N.” Harry left her apartment that night after carefully placing a soft blanket over her body and making sure she had a glass of water on her nightstand (he didn’t want to snoop around her apartment for some pills for her hangover, so he just left her with the duty of doing that herself in the morning) and laid in bed with so many thoughts running through his head he barely got an hour of sleep that night.

And that went on for a week. Knowing she was sleeping on the other side of the wall makes him more nervous than before now that he knows Y/N is aware of his constant staring – but who would blame him? She really is a sight for sore eyes. Y/N knocks on his door the following Saturday, and he opens it surprised to find her on the other side, mainly because she’s usually out with her friends by now every Saturday (not that he’s constantly waiting to hear her walk on their hallway, but he truly is always sitting on his living room and the thin walls of their apartment complex don’t provide them much privacy).

“Harry, hi.” She offers him the sweetest smile, but there’s a shy and nervous undertone to it this time. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me the other night.” She clasps her hands together in front of her and nods with a tight lipped smile. “But I also want to apologize, I know I probably made you uncomfortable with uh, some comments I made.” She slightly scrunches her nose, waiting for his reply.

But Harry is, in simple words, speechless. He can’t believe there’s a sober Y/N who just knocked on his door willingly talking to him. Her voice sounds so melodic and Harry just wants to cuddle her and the giant, soft looking green sweater she’s wearing isn’t helping him ease his thoughts. He wants Y/N to hold him while she talks to him with that sweet voice of hers, he wants to hold her small hands and fill her cheeks and mouth with kisses along with every inch of her body -not that she’d ever let him, Harry thought, but a boy can dream-, but most importantly, he wants to learn every single detail about her. How she likes her coffee in the mornings, or if she prefers tea. In which position she sleeps the most comfortable in and if there’s any TV shows she re-watches just because it brings her comfort. He has so many questions he wants to ask her he completely forgets they’d been standing in his threshold for long minutes, with him just staring at her.

“It’s ok, don’t worry.” He says barely above a whisper, and they stay in their positions for a while, again with no words spoken between them, until he finally gains enough courage to ask, “Do you want to come in?” He opens his door a bit wider with a wary look on his face. Y/N nods, her smile widens and makes her eyes sparkle with that glow Harry is still fascinated by.

They sit in the couch with a long distance between them; farther away from the other than any of them like. Y/N does most of the talking, but she truly doesn’t mind – she talks animatedly about this new show Bridgerton she binge watched last night, Harry making mental notes about most things she says. He wants to remember everything, from the way her voice slightly sharpens when she mentions something she suddenly remembers to the way she moves her hands to accompany her speech; he already loves how expressive she is with her face features, and only confirms how he’d listen to her speak for the rest of his life.

Y/N manages to get more words out of him than she expected, and asks for his opinion or thoughts on most things she mentions. She hates making conversation purely about herself, she wants to know about Harry as much as she can. She wishes he would initiate conversation or switch topics with no shame, but she knows she’s asking for too much. This night alone they interacted more than the last three months combined, and Y/N is grateful for it.

Three chapters of FRIENDS had passed when she finds herself scooting a bit closer to him, carefully trying to read his body language. When he stiffens in his position, she turns her head to look at him. His cheeks are tinted a cute shade of pink, and he’s blinking a lot more than he usually does. He places both hands on his thighs and runs them up and down to get rid of the sweat accumulating on them, and he can’t help but gasp when their thighs touch, meaning she scooted even closer. As if that isn’t enough to kill him, she softly rests her head on his shoulder.

“Is this ok?” Y/N whispers, and he forces himself to turn his head to find her eyes, which are already looking up at him. He slowly nods and makes the dumb mistake of looking down at her lips. He feels the hot embarrassment run up his neck and quickly turns to face his TV again, planning on pretending nothing ever happened.

That is, until he feels the soft skin of her palm and gentle fingers grab his jaw, forcing his gaze back on her. That touch alone makes him feel more than any other human has made him feel in his entire life – but it doesn’t compare to the eruption of jitteriness washing through him when her eyes look down at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry freezes in his spot. He wonders if he heard her correctly, not believing his senses when around her, the possibility of her wanting to kiss him are too low, he thinks, and when he doesn’t respond, she slowly begins to remove her hand from his face, taking a guess on his unspoken rejection. He, for once, reacts quickly enough; he grabs her by her wrist, placing her hand back again in its spot on his jaw, and works enough courage to just go for it. Harry lowers his face to gently envelope her top lip between his own. It’s quick but sweet (just like she had expected their first kiss to be, if she’d ever got lucky enough to experience it) and when he moves away just enough to separate her lips, she wastes no time in connecting them again. This time, the kiss is longer and with more determination than before, and when Harry feels Y/N melt into him, he gains enough confidence to grab her face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss.

They stay enveloped in each other for a while, mouths molding and moving in sync with so many unspoken emotions it feels overwhelming for both – they barely know each other, they’re very aware of it, but the undeniable infatuation they both feel is stronger than they’d ever admit. Y/N feels on her face the long exhale that leaves through Harry’s nose when she softly traces his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and when he meets her tongue with his, the mood that was settled between them switches drastically – from sweet and innocent to needy and passionate.

Harry isn’t very experienced with kissing, let alone with anything past first base. He’d only made out with a girl all the way back in high school during his senior prom, and the girl was so harsh and desperate Harry knew that moment he wouldn’t ever share an intimate moment with anyone again unless he truly felt something for them. Now, he knows it might seem like he’s rushing things in his heart, but he’d do anything with and for Y/N – but he knows he’s not ready just yet.

His nervousness consumes him again when she moves to straddle his lap, making him whimper at the new position. He shakily places his hands next to her legs on the couch, not sure what is too much and what is ok to do. She runs her hands from his jaw down to his shoulders, and moves them all the way down his arms to his hands, giving them a soft squeeze before placing them on her waist and sliding her own back up again towards his neck, never breaking the kiss.

He unintentionally lets a second whimper leave his mouth when she sits herself down on his lap, creating some friction between their groins. He knows he’s hard – he felt his dick grow in his pants the second she touched his jaw, but knowing Y/N could feel it now put him a tad on edge. He separates their lips; their agitated breathing mixing in between them.

“I- I’ve never…” Harry begins, but he’s having a hard time finding the correct words. Y/N understands almost immediately – she’s not proud to admit she had figured he was unexperienced, feeding the stereotype of shy-ergo-virgin, even though she was correct this time.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” Y/N gives him a soft peck and continues, “you can say no, but I’d love to make you feel good, if you’d let me. We can keep our clothes on.” Y/N suggests. If she has to be honest, she hasn’t dry-humped anyone since high school, but the thought of doing it with Harry lights her insides in animalistic flames.

When Harry timidly nods, she shakes her head with her eyebrows raised in a disapproving look, “Use your words, H.”

“I- I want you to- to do it. I- I trust you.” His stuttering makes Y/N’s insides warm, the fact that she makes him nervous amuses her – she’s certain she’s never made anyone this nervous before, but it is the fact that Harry admitted he trusts her what sends shivers down her spine. All she does in response is roll her hips against his – and when he closes his eyes with a pleasured groan leaving his lips, she does it again. Harry’s grip on her waist lowers to her hips, squeezing the flesh that was subtly beginning to get exposed from all the movement, and when he throws his head back Y/N takes advantage of his exposed neck to finally attach her lips to it. Her hold on one side of his face moves to grip his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side so she can suck on the sweet spot behind his ear still rolling her hips on his, and when she pokes the spot with her tongue to soothe the pleasuring sting, he unconsciously thrusts his hips up to meet hers; Y/N can’t help but smile and leave a trail of sweet, wet kisses from his new deepening bruise to the place where his neck meets his shoulders, repeating her actions there to leave a second bruise.

Harry feels his cock twitch in his pants when Y/N rolls her hips with more pressure, and they both know he’s close - his inexperience making him not last longer than a couple of minutes. “Are you going to cum for me?” Y/N asks him, holding his jaw tightly to keep his gaze on hers, and when he shyly nods she adds, “I want you to look at me when you do it.”

Harry can’t believe what’s going on – he has the most beautiful woman in the word on top of him about to make him cum, and he’s sure he’s going to come so hard he’ll probably have to throw his briefs into the trash. Her gaze staring so intensely into his eyes is what makes his insides finally explode, his eyes seeing white for a moment – with his mouth open ajar and glossy eyes he feels the large amount of cum spurting from his cock, making a mess inside his pants. The pleasure and fullness he feels during this moment is something he has never experienced before, never thinking he would surrender this fast over someone else’s actions. Y/N slows her movements but doesn’t stop for a while, allowing him to empty his insides until he hisses at the friction. Harry hugs her lower back to pull her closer to him, and Y/N lets her head drop to his shoulder so they can both catch their breaths.

They stay like that for a while, hugging each other with Y/N running her hand softly through his chocolate curls and Harry tracing small circles on the small of her back.

“You saved me from a car accident, a year or so ago.” Harry confesses – the pure bliss he’s feeling makes him dizzy and unaware of his words.

“I know. I remember.” Y/N confesses herself, and when Harry’s soft caresses stop at her back, she removes her head from the warm spot on his neck to look at him in the eyes, finding a confused frown in his eyebrows and lips in a small pout – she kisses him soft and quickly, not being able to contain herself. “I figured you either didn’t remember or didn’t bring it up for a reason, so I chose to not mention it.” She shudders and gives him a soft smile.

“Was embarrassed, still am.” Harry whispers with red cheeks, and Y/N’s laugh resonates through his living room, and if he wasn’t already obsessed with her, her laugh completes his way there.

“So cute.” She pecks his lips. “Can’t believe it took us this long to… talk.” Another peck. A knowing look on her face knowing damn well they did more than talking.

“You are too pretty. And intimidating. Can’t even walk in front of you without tripping over my own feet.” Y/N giggles at his confession, finding him even more amusing.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Y/N asked, not being able to wait another day to ask. Harry feels his cheeks hurting from all the smiling, but he is too content in this moment.

“I’d love to.”

x

As always, feedback is truly appreciated,

love, Joey.

Fic: Yes, Father (August Walker x Reader)

A/N: Hey folks. It has been a while. This piece has been sitting on my drive for over a month and I finally decided to post it. I hope you enjoy it. I based all the mass rites on my own experiences, even if it has been a while since I last went to church. 

Summary: AU! After much insisting, your fiancé convinces you to go to church with him and you find yourself strangely captivated by the priest celebrating the mass, which so happens to be your fiancé childhood friend.

Pairing: August x Reader

Genre: Smut; AU   

Wordcount: 2,9k

Warnings: smut (dirty talk and fingering); It’s worth noting that this is a seriously sacrilegious fic, so if you’re religious and think it might bother you or conflict with your faith, maybe it would be best not to read it.

You were never one to particularly care for going to church or anything like that. You weren’t raised in any faith and if it was up to you, your future children would be educated the same, but it was so important to your fiancé James.

He came from a feverous catholic family and he grew up going to church, Sunday morning mass, and being part of every possible event his church was involved in. He was ever an altar boy growing up and he hoped that he could continue the tradition with his own children.

And after a lot of cajoling on his part, you agreed to start attending mass on Sunday morning with him. He promised that the current priest presiding his church wasn’t one of those misogynist and full of prejudice old farts but actually a good old friend of his.

“I promise you’ll enjoy August’s sermon,” James assured as you combed the inexistent wrinkles on your plain, knee-length grey dress.

James insisted you were being too conservative with your attire choice. That it looked more like you were going to a job interview than mass, but you rather be safe than sorry. His parents would be there as well and for some reason, that made you even more nervous with this whole attending to church thing. As ridiculous as it might sound, a part of you was slightly afraid of busting into flames the second you stepped through the threshold of the building.  

“Honestly, it still surprises me that out of the two of us, August was the one that ended up with the collar and not me,” your fiancé declared with a chuckle as he parked the car and you two stepped out to see a considerable group of people, mostly women from the looks of it, quietly making their way inside. “He was such a ladies’ man.”

“Doesn’t seem like much have changed,” you commented as the two of you walked up the steps, making him chuckle and nod.

James’ parents were already waiting and after a quick greeting, you were all made the way inside, miraculously finding seats in the front pews, right in front of the altar. The ample ship of the church seemed to amplify the buzzing of conversation all around, but it all came to a halt at the first chord of the piano.

The silence was heavy and it seemed to you that if someone dropped a pin, it would be heard by the very heavens. Finally, the eerie melody started and you felt your heart beating to the tempo of the music as everyone rose and the procession started.

Front and center, leading the group was a young boy, no older than 12, carrying the processional cross. The dark, shaggy hair and green eyes reminded you of James and you could picture your fiancé in your mind’s eye performing the same task as a child and it brought a smile to your lips.

You watched as the group advanced in time the melody playing, some members of the congregation carrying images of saints and other holy objects and finally, closing the group, Him.

Father August was a tall man, broad shoulders and built like a bull, the white and green clerical robes barely disguising his bulky form. His dark hair was neatly combed, one stubborn curl falling over his left eye but he seemed unaware as he walked and murmured the words of the hymn under his breath, his ocean blue gaze never wavering from the altar. He would look like the picture of a Godsent angel if it wasn’t for the dark stubble covering his face and the abominable mustache that in anyone else would look ridiculous but on him was actually attractive.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized your treacherous thought and your gaze fell to your polished shoes. You were really thinking of a priest as attractive? How much of a sinner could you be? Ashamed by the betrayal of your mind, you didn’t dare to look up again, not until the velvet smooth voice of Father August asked all to be seated and the ceremony started.

You let his voice washed over you as mass progressed as expected, taking your cues of when to rise or sit from James, that remained next to you oblivious to your suffering. You barely listened to the gospel reading or the adoration too focused on tracking Father August’s every move despite your best attempts of ignoring the handsome man presiding the celebration.

Finally, the congregation was seated once more to listen to his sermon. You kept your eyes on your clasped hands as August took his place at the pulpit and started speaking. You didn’t hear a word said, only the calm, husky tone of his voice that seemed to set your very soul on fire if the wet warmth between your legs was any indication.

Despite your brave attempts to keep your mind clean, you couldn’t help but daydream of that very same voice whispering all sorts of sinful pleasures in your ear. Clearing your throat, you dared to look up, finding his blue gaze fixed on you as he spoke and that was enough to set your heart racing and lock the breath inside your lungs. It felt as if Father August could see deep inside you, all the unholy thoughts you had been entertaining during his sermon.

Finally, he ended his speech and another hymn began. The congregation started rising, taking their place in line for Eucharist.

“You’re coming?” James whispered, startling you.

“I shouldn’t,” you replied quietly, your eyes darting to the priest feeding the congregation the wafer.

“Come on,” James encouraged with a smile and a wink. “No one will know.”

You rose from your seat against your better judgment. Your brain was unable to reign in the dark desire that pushed you toward the priest. As you took your place in line right behind James, your heart was pounding and your nerves wrecked as each step brought you closer to Father August, until finally, you stood in front of him, under his piercing all-knowing blue gaze.

“The body of Christ,” he spoke, voice haunting as he presented the wafer and your whole body shook as you let your lips part in welcome, eyes focused on his as he set the wafer on your tongue.

There was something so intimate and arousing at been this close to Father August, to let his thick fingers brushing against your lips as he fed you, his eyes darkening and his nostrils flaring as if he could see and smell your sin. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds as you two stared at each other.

It took the small cough from someone behind you to break you from your spell and you scurried away, shame bitter and acidic in your stomach, drying your mouth and throat as you forced yourself to swallow the wafer and move back to your seat, feeling the weight of your guilt as you waited for the mass to be finally over.

You had hoped to be free from the priest as soon as the proceedings were over but instead Father August remained at the door, exchanging polite words with the members of the congregation, and of course, James and his parents got in line to speak to the holy man.

“Amazing work as always, my dear,” you heard James’ mom, Magda, said as she kissed Father August’s cheek. “But when will you remove that awful thing from your face?”

“I don’t know, mom,” James interjected with a smirk, hugging his old friend. “I think it suits him, gives him a star quality. Of the porn variety.” James’ mom gasped in horror, while August just chuckled.

“You’re jealous because you never managed to grow a single hair in that baby face,” the priest joked back, completely unfazed by the teasing as his gaze set on you. “And who is this?”

“Oh! You haven’t met my fiancé, yet…”

You barely heard the rest of James’ words as he ushered you forward, presenting you to Father August and as his large hand enveloped yours in a warm touch, you could feel the flitting throb between your legs once again.

No man had such an effect on you before, and you wished you could run away, put as much distance between yourself and the temptation in the form of a man.

“So, what did you think?” James asked once the two of you were in the safety of the car, on the way to his parents’ house for Sunday lunch.

“I know it might not seem like it, but it wasn’t my first time in church, James.” Your words earned you a chuckle from him.

“I know, sweetheart. I meant of August.”

“Oh!” You could feel the heat returning to your face as you shifted on your seat, looking away from him. “He seemed nice and you’re right, his sermon was ok.”

“Is ok enough for you to consider coming along every Sunday from now on?”

The look in James’ eyes was pleading, like a little puppy dog that was kicked out of the moving truck. The look of a man that was used to get his way and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I’ll think about it,” you conceded it as he pulled the car in the driveway, right behind his parents’.

It wasn’t like you could say no point-blank. Not without a good reason for it and saying you were lusting over his ordained childhood friend wasn’t exactly an option.

“That’s all I ask.”

James smiled brightly at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you two stepped out of the car just as a third vehicle pulled in the driveway, and the last person you wished to see got out.

August was donning a pair of black slacks and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt, the clerical collar being the only evidence of this man’s chosen career.

“I’m glad you could make it!” James greeted his friend cheerfully and August smirked.

“I wouldn’t miss this delicious…” he paused for just a second, his eyes flickering towards you, making you gulp and look away. “Meal for anything. Sister Agnes has many talents, bless her soul, but cooking isn’t one of them.”

James snorted, leading the way inside as August walked right beside you so close his arm brushed against yours, raising goosebumps on your skin as it tingled with the brief contact.

“Why don’t I help your mother?” you announced as soon as you crossed the threshold, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the priest as you could.

James didn’t protest. Instead, he led his friend into the sitting room and as you disappeared behind the kitchen door, you could almost feel the cold blue gaze of August on your ass, if that was even possible.

You managed to relax some as you helped Magda with the meal, chopping vegetables and stirring pots as the two of you talked about the upcoming wedding, only months away. You never thought you would be this excited about it, but you loved James with all your heart, and you couldn’t wait to become his wife.

The sound of the phone cut through your chatting and Magda’s face opened into a wide smile as she reached for her phone. It could only mean one thing: Her daughter Mary, who had been in a charity mission in Angola, was on the line.

“Go on,” you encouraged with a smile as you surveyed the kitchen. “I can manage everything.” She flashed you a grateful smile before scurrying off, phone already pressed to her ear.

You hummed to yourself as you worked, tasting the potato salad and adding a little more seasoning before your attention turned to the roast on the oven. You bent over to get a better look, smirking to yourself when you sensed someone standing right behind you, close enough you could feel the heat of his body,

Of course, you thought it was James. Who else would you expect? Instead, As you straightened up and glanced behind yourself, you were startled to find August there, browsing the pots over your shoulder. Too close for comfort.

“Father,” you croaked awkwardly, unable to really move without risking touching the man and that was the last thing you wanted. Your body was already heating up just by his mere presence. Anything else would be too dangerous.  

“Sorry for the intrusion, I wanted to give them some privacy to speak to Mary and I thought you could use some help.” His words were innocent enough but there was this edge in his voice… a sort of dark tone that made you doubt his intentions.

“That’s really thoughtful of you,” you managed, shimmying out of the way so you could move to the sink to start on the dishes. “But I got it covered.” The priest hummed in response and for a moment, a tense silence reigned between you two.

You were very aware of every sound, every motion of your body and his. You wished he would leave already or, against your better judgment, press closer, blanket your body with his, let those long, elegant fingers trace the skin of your thigh, inch under your skirt, and towards your throbbing cunt which was soaking your panties.

You let out a gasp, cutlery clattering loudly into the sink as your mind registered the filthy thoughts circling your brain. How could you? This was a man of God, for Christ’s sake, and a good friend of the man you loved.

“You know, James and I were always very close,” Father August spoke suddenly, making you start because once again he was standing right behind you, his hands resting on the marble of the sink in front of you. “We shared everything.” He whispered those words right in your ear.

One of his hands came to your stomach, not yet touching but close enough that you could almost feel it, the ghost of his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, making your breath hitch and your body shake as it paused right at the edge of your skirt, hovering there so, so close…

“Please,” you whimpered, not sure if you were asking him to move away or touch you, even if your body was obviously aching for him.

Father August decided for you, dipping his fingers below the hem of your dress, tracing your thigh up until he found your center, the brush of his fingers featherlight against your drenched center.

“Dirty little slut,” he mocked, massaging your cunt and making you moan and rest against him. “I could tell all your filthy thoughts when you stood in front of me at the altar. Did you want to get on your knees and suck my cock in front of the entire church?”

“Yes, Father,” you whimpered, rocking against his light touch, desperate for more.

“In front of James?” he asked, pushing your panties aside and dipping one finger inside your hungry little slit that seemed to almost pull his digit in.

“Yes, Father.”

“Whore,” he clicked his tongue, fingering you roughly now, his middle finger buried almost to the third knuckle as the heel of his hand rubbed against your throbbing clit. The pad of his finger rubbing that sweet little spot, and all you could do was squeeze the sink and press your legs together around his wrist, keeping his hand trapped there.

“You better cum soon or James will find out exactly what kind of slut his fiancée is,” August taunted, his voice like smooth honey dripping against your ear as he rubbed his hard cock against your ass.

“Yes, Father,” you gasped, rocking between his hand and his erection, lost in the ecstasy of such filthy action. “I’m so, so close…”

“Do you want my cock, slut?” he asked, his other hand coming to your throat, squeezing just slightly and you nodded desperately as his motions sped up. “Want me to fuck that tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Father,” you gasped.

“You’re gonna come to the church on Wednesday. I don’t care what you tell James. Just be there.”

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t find in yourself to answer, your whole body going taut with pleasure as your orgasm washed over you. The sort of white-out ecstasy that blinded and deafened you to anything and everything around you with the exception of your body quivering and quaking and the gush of warmth soaking his hand, your thighs and dripping to the floor below.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to your cheek.

Father August stepped away from you, hands in his pockets as you tried to recompose yourself just moments before the kitchen door opened and Magda walked in.

“Wednesday. Don’t forget,” he said, his smile, to anyone looking from the outside, was completely innocent but you caught the malice in his ice-cold eyes before he left.

“What’s on Wednesday?” Magda asked, checking the roast.

“Father August is just gonna help me with something,” you managed, brain still hazy with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “For James.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Magda grinned. “He’s such a good man, isn’t he? Our August. A true man of God.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. If only she knew…

---

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Coping mechanisms.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader.

Word count: 1516.

You’ve been having nightmares ever since Lena was attacked and you destroyed her entire office at L Corp after a panic attack. Now, you’re left trying to handle them. And by handling them, you’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and running to your moms’ bed. They are not complaining. Rao, no. They would never.

Lena always holds you tight and tells you she is fine, safe, and that you can relax. Kara always kisses your forehead and tells you she’s got you. And they cuddle you in their arms and you usually fall back asleep.

“So, baby.” Lena says one morning after a very particular bad night for all of you. You could not fall back asleep, even with them by your side, and you almost froze their room with your uneven breathing. “I was talking to Kelly, and she mentioned there are some coping mechanisms for the panic attacks you’ve been having.”

“You want me to go to therapy?” You ask in shock. “I’m ok. I just have some nightmares where you are dying and I can’t save you and I’m covered in your blood like Carrie. But it’s fine.”

They look at each other in shock. It takes them a while to move past the horrible image you just planted in their heads.

“Right. Totally fine.” Kara is the first one to break.

“Look, there are just some things you can do before bed that can help you sleep better.” Lena holds your hands.

“Is this because I’ve been sleeping in your bed? Because I don’t have to.” You try to defend yourself. “I could stay in my own room. Totally alone. Haunted by the ghosts of the terrible visions of you guys dying and leaving me alone forever.”

“It’s not because you’re sleeping in our bed.” She squeezes your hands, reassuring. “It’s because I don’t want any ghosts terrifying my baby.”

“Come on, little one.” Kara puts breakfast in front of you and you almost forget what was the conversation in the first place. “Just give it a try. Go see aunt Kelly after school, and just hear what she has to say.”

“Fine, fine.” You dismiss them with your hands. “Now more bacon, please.”

So that’s it. You’re going to see aunt Kelly and her list of ‘coping mechanisms’.

“You know, what really helps sometimes is just talking about it.” Aunt Kelly says looking at you while you pace around the room, nervously.

“You can’t be my psychologist. You know, I’ve read about it. It’s against the law or something.”

“It is not against the law, but you’re right, it’s not recommendable.” She raises her eyebrows and you adjust the frame of your glasses. Oh no, you’re nervous. You’re doing exactly what your momma does when she is nervous. “But I’m not here as your therapist. I just want you to know ways that you can deal with that.”

“Fear of the imminent death of a relative that you weren’t able to prevent even though you have superpowers?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Ok, let’s hear it. Coping mechanism number one, talking about it. Doesn’t work. I have been telling everyone what’s going on inside my brain and I still wake up every night in terror, so… what’s number two?”

“Relaxation.” Aunt Kelly says, you look at her in doubt. “You can try to meditate. Or sit in nature for a while. You can try progressive muscle relaxation.”

“Hm, except the world is loud.” You finally sit down and look at her. “Aunty, what do you hear now?”

“Well, I hear our breathing. The AC is on. I hear cars from afar.” She puts her notebook down and looks at you so deeply you feel like she’s staring at your soul. “What do you hear?”

“Oh, Rao. What do I don’t hear, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” You throw yourself back in the chair with a huff sound. “Sirens, explosions, there’s a car chase downtown, a baby is crying, there’s a man yelling at the donuts shop. What a jerk. Oh, a pipe just burst in some poor woman’s house and she’s blaming her husband.”

“I see.” She stops you before you go on and on.

“It’s just very hard to relax when you have to try very hard NOT to, so you don’t hear all the noises in the universe.” You sigh. “Shall we try number three?”

“Physical activity is always good.” She picks up her notebook again. “It’s a natural form of stress relief.”

“I mean, do I have to tell you why physical activity won’t work on Supergirl’s daughter or do you think we’ve got it covered?” You don’t mean to be a pain in the ass, it’s just none of this would actually work on you. Kelly just stares at you for a while. She then puts her notebook down, and you can almost feel that she is giving up. Did you just break a therapist?

“Ok. Let’s think about what works for you.” She inhales deep. “What’s one way you use to shut the voices out?”

“Loud music usually helps.”

“Great. Before bed, put on your headphones, listen to very loud music. Shut out every other sound, shut out every other thought.” Kelly moves closer to you. “Honestly, it might not work. But if it doesn’t, we’ll think of something else, ok?”

“Sure. Yeah.” You stand up ready to leave. “Thanks aunt Kelly.”

She winks at you and you fly back home.

It’s already time for you to go to bed when Lena knocks on your door and puts her head inside.

“Hey babygirl, just want you to know that you’re more than welcome in our bed ok?”

“Thanks, mom.” You sit on your own bed a little nervous. “But first, I’m gonna try something aunt Kelly told me to.”

“Great. Have a goodnight, baby.” She closes the door and you scan your room for your headphones. This has to work. You’re done giving your moms reasons to worry about you, and if you’re being honest, the nightmares kind of suck too.

So, you put your phone on shuffle and the first music that blasts through it already says a lot about your situation.

“I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind.

There was something so pleasant about that place.

Even your emotions had an echo in so much space.

And when you’re out there, without care, yeah I was out of touch…”

“BUT IT WASN’T BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW ENOUGH, I JUST KNEW TOO MUCH! DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY?”

You up on your bed before you notice.

“DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY? DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY? POSSIBLY!!!”

Kara rushes in the room and flies in front of your face so you can see her. To be fair the music was so loud you didn’t even hear her coming inside.

“KID!” She says and you take off your headphones. You look at yourself standing on your bed and Kara looking at you like you’re insane.

“Was I singing loud?” You ask blushing and she shakes her head agreeing.

“If you can consider screaming at the top of your lungs singing.”

“Oh, Rao.” You let your body fall into the bed and cover your face with your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

And just when you thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing for you, Lena walks in your room and you grunt terrified from the humiliation.

“Ok, listen, I’m not crazy!” You start justifying yourself before they send you to a mental hospital. “Aunt Kelly told me to listen to music as a coping mechanism and…”

“Oh, great.” Kara sits on your bed. “Let’s do it.”

“Do… what?” You finally lift your look to stare at her.

“Sing.” She takes the plug out of the phones and the song starts blasting from it. “YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE IN CONTROL?”

She yells making you and Lena startled. Now you’re staring at her like she is insane.

“I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY! I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY! I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY JUST LIKE ME!” Kara keeps going and you look at Lena who’s trying very hard not to laugh. Kara looks at her too, almost like she’s asking for backup and Lena shrugs.

“EVER SINCE I WAS LITTLE, EVER SINCE I WAS LITTLE IT LOOKED LIKE FUN!” Lena is the next one to yell and you are so in shock you can’t even fully process what’s going on before you. Is Lena Luthor singing in your bedroom at ten thirty on a Wednesday night?

“COME ON KID!” Kara holds your hands and you let yourself go again even though this looks insane.

“BUT MAYBE I’M CRAZY, MAYBE YOU’RE CRAZY, MAYBE WE’RE CRAZY! PROBABLY!” You three yell together and fall into laughter right after. What. Just. Happened?

When you fall asleep that night, there are no nightmares. No powers spiraling out of control. There’s just music and laughter and fun. It’s amazing to know what your moms would do for you. Oh, and you have to remember to thank aunt Kelly for this.

Notes:

- how insane is that the first song on my phone was ACTUALLY this one?! I felt like it was meant to be!?!

- thanks @hermen0404 for another prompt idea! This was so much fun!

The Watcher

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Synopsis: You were supposed to be living your dream life… One where you would be able to start a happy family with your partner but instead here you were - sleep deprived and terrified of the very own walls you once called home. All because of him - he who haunted you day and night, he who surrounded the hidden corners of your mind. He, who called himself: ‘The Watcher.’

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Suicide mention, Abusive relationship, Mentions of mental illness 

Headline: Couple Flee Dream Home After Threats From “The Watcher”

Admin: @roses-ruby​

_

“Are you sure on the color? I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

“Yeah,” You reply casually, taking a mug out from the moving box. There was a paper wrapped around the mug for glass protection – one you discarded back into the package before placing the cup on the marbled counter. The kitchen window didn’t have curtains yet, which let warm sunlight pour into the room and light up the whole area. “It’s a really soft green. I think it’s optimistic.”

Your husband scoffs playfully as you walk over to the coffee maker. You had just moved in yesterday so your dream house – ready to be filled with everything you’ve cultivated throughout the years – only contained a mass of unloaded belongings. Yet still, nothing could beat the simple contentment of just existing in the exact place you’ve always wanted.

“I’m so happy to be here.”

“Well, I’m glad someone is.” Taehyung interrupts your wonder.

You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, grabbing the coffee pot, “Another letter?”

“Yup, the fourth one.” He sighs, “These neighborhood kids you know…they’re kinda creepy…”

Ever since you moved in you’ve been receiving odd, unmarked envelopes with strangely worded letters inside. They contained weird riddles and vague threats but neither of you were alarmed, deducing that the neighboring children were playing a prank on the newbies. Stranger things have happened, right? Perhaps you were both fools still in the honeymoon phase, too excited about your first month of marriage and future life to be brought down by such shenanigans.

“Oh, they’ll stop eventually. What was it this time though?”

“Something about the works of Jean-Paul Sartre or something-”

As soon as you heard the name, you froze in your tracks with the coffee pot hanging over the blue mug. Jean-Paul Sartre? No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. Your husband seemed to be saying something in the background, but your brain was too blurred to listen. There was no way it was him. Even if there has only ever been one man you’ve encountered who was in love with the French philosopher as much as you were. It’s not him – not after 6 years. Not him.

“___?” His soft voice fills your ears, “___, I won’t let you go. You’re mine, now and forever-”

“___?” You suddenly feel someone grab your arm, snapping you out of your nightmare as you come face to face with your husband.

“…Huh?”

“Are you alright, ___? You look a little pale.” He asks, with concern lacing his features.

“I…I’m fine…I’m alright Taehyung…you know just…with the move and all…I’m tired…sorry…” You stutter out a response which he obviously didn’t believe. The more you gaze into his orbs, the more frightened you feel. Instead of easing his worry, your mind was only thinking of one thing: this can’t happen again, not again. Deciding that you didn’t want to be interrogated further, you move away from him, turning around and changing the subject.

“So…I’ll grab the paints today-”

“I’ll do it,” He interrupts, “If you’re tired you should go lie down.”

He walks past you, out of the room and a minute later you hear the front door open and shut. You just stand there – like a fool, wishing you could stop this feeling of fear and remorse from paralyzing you. Everything was going so well and then you had to go and ruin it by bringing him back into your conscience. Clenching your fist tight, you begin to cry, loathing yourself the most in that moment. This is what always happens to you when it concerns him and it’s why you don’t want him to come back into your life.

Please, not him.

_

“It does look optimistic!”

“Like a field of grass in front of a farmer!”

“Ugh, again?” You groan at your husband’s habit of cringe-inducing analogies.

“Oh, come on they’re cute!” He says, wrapping his arms around you as you laugh. The wall paint had finally dried and the soft green had settled nicely along with your furniture that you both had exhaustingly positioned in place. While you were playfully wrestling each other in the living room, you heard a small rustle of paper from the front door indicating the arrival of mail.

“I’ll get it!” You shout, removing his large limbs from you.

He chases you to the front door, tickling you as you pick up the fallen mail and begin to scour through the bills and ads for something important over a fit of laughter. The amusement and hustling came to a halt once you found another blank envelope in between your fingers. No one made a sound, already knowing who the sender would be.

“I’ll throw it out…” You hear the anger in your husband’s tone as he holds out his hand.

But rather than giving him the envelope, something inside of you encourages you to open it and take out the letter inside. There was a heavy, malevolent lull that surrounded the atmosphere as you began to read its contents.

“Dear ___, so divine.

I can’t stop running until you’re mine.

I keep this leash for the sake of peace,

and I’ll bite my tongue until blood fills my lung.

But Dear ___, so divine.

You should know that you’ll be mine.

I’ll watch you sleep and torch your wings

Until you’re wearing my wedding ring.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

“…What the fuck…” You could hear the horror in Taehyung’s voice. “How does he know your name?”

Because it’s him. Of course it is.

“It’s…nothing,” You say absentmindedly, laughing as you place the letter back in the envelope with trembling digits, “Just kids… playing a prank…”

“This is not the work of ‘some kids!’ It’s obviously a psychopath!” He yells in panic

“Don’t…” You mutter, an abrupt beating in your brain, “Don’t raise your voice, Tae.”

“But __-”

“I said it’s the fucking kids, didn’t I?” You grit in his face with your eyebrows furrowed.

He gapes at you for a second, his face a mix of confusion and shock, before he takes a step back. Taehyung didn’t understand why you were upset and he wanted to argue but then he saw the color leave your face.

You were staring straight at him, until you couldn’t anymore. The walls that were so beloved a minute ago now came closing in on you. Your breathing became hoarse and you took in large amounts of air to compensate up till the point where you couldn’t perceive clearly.

“___?” Your husband, a mere black silhouette, shook your arms as you began to bend over.

You panted as hard as you could, but you weren’t able to breathe and started to choke on your own spit. His image was lodging itself throughout your mind and the tears that crept out of your eye sockets felt like stones. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this is exactly why you didn’t want to believe it was him.

“Slowly baby! Breath slowly! Calm down!” His speech became foggy as your vision began to fade.

“H…seok-”

And then it was all black.

You woke up with a gasp, the image of a white ceiling sticking to your eyes. Did you pass out?

“Are you okay?” You hear your husband and turn your face to see him sitting on the floor next to you, who laid on the sofa. His face was downcast, hand holding onto you tightly as you slowly recalled everything that happened before you fainted.

“Yeah…I’m fine…”

Taehyung’s expression brought back that feeling again. That traitorous fear, that immense guilt. He deserved none of it and you hated yourself for making him worry. Countless times – you told yourself that you were over him and you could now wholeheartedly move on with your husband. But it seems like that was nothing but your own deceitfulness.

How did he even find you? What did he want from you now after six whole years? You try to sit up, wanting to feel as complete as you did before the wretched moment this afternoon.

“Tae…a-about the letter-”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry about that.” He smiles, helping you up by placing his hand against the small of your back, “…Just like you said, a prank, right?”

Taehyung, a man so usually stubborn – there was something off about his stance that you couldn’t pinpoint. But whatever it was, you were fine with it as long as it meant that you wouldn’t have to confront that. So, with a tense smile, you lie through your teeth.

“Y…yeah.”

And maybe this was your own undoing, but in that very second, when he gives you a beaming grin, you laugh. A bolder of pressure releasing from your shoulders. It’s alright, this was still your house and you were still safe here. Away from him.

You don’t notice Tae’s face falling as soon as you looked away.

_

When you woke up again, it had already been a month.

A month of living in your dream home with the dream life you’ve always wanted. Nothing could make you happier. You leave the bed and wander into the hall to remind yourself that this was real – that this serene place really existed, and you were going to start your new married life here. Placing your hand against the painted green wall, you marvel at the beautiful blend of colors and textures.

You found yourself searching for your husband around the large house you got to call a home. It had been your goal since long ago to own a place like this. Of course, back then you had desired the commitment with your then boyfriend, Hoseok.

In that instant you stop walking. Hoseok. It’s been a long time since you’ve recalled that man and hadn’t withdrawn in apprehension. He was a happy man, the Hoseok that everyone loved. A handsome man that was always glowing with a bright ball energy, he was everyone’s friend…a mood maker. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t love him. But the Hoseok you knew – your Hoseok was a monster.

A monster hell bent on possessing you.

Everyone adored him, but he only loved you. You were so delighted that he did, so overcome with joy that you hadn’t realized then that his fondness came with many setbacks. He made you laugh, he made you cry, but mostly, he made you feel love in a way you didn’t think was possible. Blame it on your youth – you were too wrapped up in the idea of Hoseok’s affection to understand that it wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t normal.

So, you overlooked his possessive nature and his jealousy and his anger. But your body didn’t. Your skin still held scars he cultivated through nights of sexual torture. Your ears still remember the words he used to berate you. Wounds you used to adore left you with raw shame after he discarded you. So much shame, that you couldn’t even think about him or your relationship with him without utter dread grabbing at your bones. However, it didn’t matter much anymore. You were no longer a young girl desperate for his approval… you were an adult – a woman who fell in love and got married to the only man she’ll ever need.

He won’t be able to possess you ever again; he was a monster. You’re so thankful that he hadn’t sent another letter for a while now, although his silence was a tad unnerving.

The door you stood in front of creaked suddenly, catching your attention. It was then that you realized you had ended up in front of your husband’s home office. That’s right, you were looking for your husband. A much kinder and sane person.

With a smile, you push open the door to be greeted with a large, soundless room. Your smile disappears as you spot the mess of papers on your husband’s desk. They were littered everywhere, covering the whole table while some fell onto the chair and the floor. You never knew that a messy pile of papers could look so menacing. The beating of your heart grew louder as you stepped closer to the desk.

You pick up a letter, then another – then many more as horror starts to fill your lungs. More poems and threats – all of them scattered in erratic handwriting that spelled insanity. All of them signed, ‘The Watcher.’ Had it gotten this bad? But when? How? Your husband hadn’t told you about any of this.

Your eyes land on a particular letter and you begin to read it against your own will. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, the only one that directly contained your name was the divine poem. Still, you knew if it was from him, then it was for you.

Do you remember when we used to visit that bistro across the street from your dorms? How cold it was that one night, and you hated the cold so I held your hand in mine to keep you warm. Your whole body was a chill and I took pride in heating every inch of your heart. I could watch you for hours on end, and never bore. I loved you dearly, only you. That’s why I’ll watch you for a thousand nights and love you for a thousand more.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

The bistro…you vaguely remember that place. Two college students barging in half high and so annoyingly in love. Hoseok would get so upset when you made eye contact with other male customers and sometimes, he would pick fights with them. Take them behind an alley and return all black and blue.

“I won.” He’d say with a grin while you cried your eyes out, wondering what was wrong with him but being too devoted to his smile to actually care.

“Why…why now…” You muffled in a painful voice.

Suddenly you heard the sound of words being spoken in the distance. It came from downstairs, somewhere near the front door. You gradually moved towards the voice, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts. Once you were in the living room, you stopped and hid halfway between a wall, spotting your husband talking to a man in a suit.

“I just…don’t know detective…”

Detective? He called the police?

“The letters, they’re deranged…and they’re just getting worse I’m- I’m afraid for me and my wife…I don’t know what to do…”

“Well, I can tell you to not worry too much.” The older gentleman replied in a gruff voice, “Whoever this is hasn’t done anything but send letters, so it seems like he’s just playing with you. I’ll have someone patrolling the block for a while, and we’ll be the ones receiving your mail before you do for now. I’ll be back to collect those letters and…we’ll catch this jerk in a matter of days, I’m sure.”

It seems like this case doesn’t interest him much.

“Th-thank you officer I just…worry about my wife she’s…she was so happy here and then…ever since we started getting these damned letters- that freak even knows her name-”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to question her? Perhaps she knows who this person is.”

“No. I don’t think it will be good for her at all. Last time she read a letter, she had a panic attack… they really upset her, so please…she can’t know of any more.”

“Alright…we’ll see what we can do for now and I’ll follow up in a couple of days…”

“Thank you so much officer-”

Their voices begin to blend into the background as you turned around so that your back was against the wall you hid with. You were finally, finally starting to be happy…truly happy so why? Why would he come back and threaten everything you’ve grown to hold dear? Anger and pain were swimming in your heart. Wasn’t he the one who left you behind? What did he want from you now?

“Why now…Hoseok…”

_

Two and a half months.

Two and a half months of acting awkward and silent around one another. You sigh, sitting in your car and bracing yourself before you walk through your front door. A month ago, coming home from work was comforting, but now it just felt drawn out and agonizing. Both of you were hiding secrets, and you both simmered in guilt because of it. But it wasn’t any of his fault; it was all yours.

You, who couldn’t get over that damn bastard that left you all those years ago.

Taehyung had always been so kind to you, and you who came out of such a torturous relationship appreciated that more than anything. Yet the thought of him finding out about Hoseok – about everything you let Hoseok do to you was mortifying. Would he, who treats you with so much care, think of you the same after he’s known the truth? It’s why you could never tell him.

You’re not sure if there had been any new letters, since the police was sorting through your mail before it came back to you. But deep down inside, in a secret place, you wanted to see what Hoseok had to say. If he was still reaching out to you, if he was still watching you. With one last breathe, you open the car door and step down, ready to trudge back into your room and forget these thoughts. 

Yet suddenly, when you were a few feet from your front door, you hear someone call out your name.

It was a lady, short bobbed hair - someone you knew you’ve seen before. She held a microphone in her hand and there was a man with a camera chasing her. There were many others with similar mics and cams rushing towards you with an eager look in their hungry eyes.

Your heart drops once you realize who they were. Reporters.

A whole group of them.

“Ms. ___, how long have you been receiving these letters now?”

“Is it true that this Watcher is from a previous affair you had behind your husband’s back?”

“Is he just some stalker?”

“How does he know your name? How do you feel about him knowing your name?”

“Are you and your husband sleeping in separate rooms?”

You started to speed towards your door as they all surrounded you, bombarding you with personal questions. Most of them kept saying your name over and over while shoving their devices in your face. So many thoughts ran across your mind but at the moment you were in no position to think calmly. Holding your breath, you managed to make it to the front door and took out your key. There was a slight struggle between you and the lock which they all saw, but still kept hounding on you.

Another panic attack was coming up, you could feel it. It seems like the police has been nothing but incompetent and now your private situation was to become a media debacle. You tried hard to concentrate on opening the door amidst the frenzy. Finally, you were able to make it safely inside and slam the door shut behind, with wild pants leaving your lips.

Your husband heard the noise and rushed from the kitchen to where you stood with a stupid look on his face.

“__-”

“Why are there reporters?”

“What?”

“WHY ARE THERE REPORTERS IN MY DRIVEWAY ASKING ME ABOUT THE FUCKING LETTERS?”

“I-I-I don’t-”

“Who did you tell?” You sneer

“I…I didn’t…just the police I promise!” He genuinely seemed shocked, to which you groaned. His expression became fearful, “You don’t think…that the police…”

“Well someone had to leak it!” Falling onto your knees, you place your head in your hands.

You thought you could come home, that once you came home this headache would end, but it was the loudest when you were in here. All you wanted was to fucking breathe – not hide in your house behind closed curtains, afraid and embarrassed to death with this loud pounding in your brain.

“___...” Taehyung steps close to you, and it seemed like he wanted to take you in his arms.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, making him flinch. “…don’t touch me…”

You were yelling but it was not out of anger. This was all your fault – everything was your fault and you felt nothing but disgust for yourself. Taehyung shouldn’t touch you or he’d become dirty too. For a moment you thought about telling him everything until your eyes caught something behind him.

All the noise outside only subsided once you zeroed in on an envelope slightly sticking out of the antique dresser drawer in your entrance hallway.

“How did that get there?” You slowly lift your hand to point towards it.

Taehyung follows your finger to the antique drawer, and you see the shock form on his face. All the letters were supposed to arrive in the mail which is filtered by the police so how did that get in here?

Was that man…

Was Hoseok in your house?

With a gulp, you stand up and walk closer to the drawer. You look over at Taehyung once you were standing in front of it, and he seemed defeated. Both by this cursed house and the mysterious man watching over it. Closing your eyes, you open the drawer and retrieve the envelope. Falling to the floor once you see that it’s blank again, with a single letter inside.

“I’ll watch you forever.”

Sincerely, The Watcher.

_

“Honey, the truck’s almost packed.”

“Yeah, just a minute.” You sing-song, staring at the mug you were about to place into the moving box. A strained smile stretches across your face as you think back to three months ago when you were unpacking all your little gadgets and trinkets, ready to settle into this house you once called home. That was a dream and like most dreams, it didn’t last too long. This place was now just a cause of your despair, it made you miserable.

After many sleepless night and restless days, you had decided to move out and try a start a new life somewhere else. Hopefully a place that could put you to ease - one that Hoseok could never reach. Taehyung wanted to move further north, which made you happy because you loved the cold.

Wait…you loved the cold? That’s not right, is it?

Also, it’s not like Hoseok could actually follow you. Because he…wait…how was it that he left you again? You know he left you – you keep repeating it to yourself, but you don’t remember him ever breaking up with you. He never really ‘physically’ broke up with you, did he?

There it was yet again. A loud obscurity corrupting your brain.

When suddenly, a realization comes over you.

Your head whirls towards the box you hovered over. You place the mug on the floor and begin to scrummage through the old box, searching for something specific. Glass protection. Once you feel the crinkly skin of paper, you take it out and smooth it over. The pounding in your head was back, and it was the strongest it has ever been.

Just as you thought, the paper had the familiar ink scribbles of an odd poem. It was a letter. Signed by The Watcher.

How could this be?

This paper was inside the box – you had used it for packing way before you ever stepped foot into this house. Yet for some reason, you can’t recall getting a letter from The Watcher before you moved in here. For a minute nothing made sense to you. It just felt like your conscious was off floating somewhere.

And then you looked up at the painted wall.

“I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

That’s because you don’t. No, of course you don’t, you like blue.

The one who likes green is-

A loud gasp leaves you as your behind makes contact with the floor. Every single thing comes crashing down at once, all the dots start to connect.

Hoseok likes green. Hoseok likes the cold.

Hoseok is…Hoseok is….

He’s dead.

He took his own life 6 years ago… he left you behind. It wasn’t him that’s been writing those letters-

“It was me.”

You forgot. No, you made yourself forget. Because there was no other way for you to cope. Instead of facing the truth, you repressed the memory of his death and then you began to haunt yourself using his image. Hoseok was a domineering force in your life and after possessing every inch of you till the point that there wasn’t a you without him, your mind was unable to comprehend his sudden departure. Tears began to roll down your face as you started to remember it all. Every moment you became ‘him’ and wrote those letters to yourself. You’ve done so for six whole years.

The reason why you’ve never evoked this before just now was the same reason as to why your trauma never became a problem for you until you moved into this house. It was because you just got married. Your mind had become fragile since his death, so shortly after writing and ‘mailing’ yourself these letters for comfort, you would read them and forget with ease, thanks to your isolation. But now that Taehyung was here – now that you were living with him, he became a witness to those letters and therefore gave them an ‘existence.’

He brought Hoseok back to ‘life’ in your brain.

It all made sense now. The headaches and the unbearable pain. You always knew there was something off but could never remember why. All those moments where you were scared of Hoseok, but never afraid of him showing up. Every time you pondered on the consequences of his being, rather than worry about him as a person at all. Only now, you’ve finally put the missing puzzle pieces together. Hoseok wasn’t watching you anymore…he couldn’t.

It was you, The Watcher.

You were the one keeping the monster alive. And you were the only one who could conclusively end him.

“___?” You hear the small, scared voice of your husband from the back. It seems like he heard your cries.

With a quick exhale, you turn around to face him. Looking at him straight in the eyes without any fear for the very first time. Your Tae, who deserved the truth no matter the cost.

“Taehyung…I have something I need to tell you.”

The Way Life Goes (2)

She thic and she important. Feel free to leave part 3 prompts or theories in my ask box. As always, enjoy...

TW: substance abuse

“Have you seen Amelia?” Was the first thing the general surgeon asked Link at the beginning of the work week on Monday. Link shrugged, pushing his overgrown shaggy hair out of his face and tugging his Ipad aggressively out of the charger.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. Meredith eyed him in a way that made him uncomfortable enough to continue. “Scout and I have been crashing at Jo’s since Friday. I’d assume she’s at my apartment.” He didn’t get very far before Meredith stepped in front of him.

“Look, as irritating as it is, the minute shit is going down in her life she’s at my house in seconds. She didn’t come to the after party and hasn’t shown up for her shift yet today. I really doubt she’s just hanging out in your apartment.” She crossed her arms, looking somewhat terrifying, despite the fact that he loomed over her.

“I can't talk right now, I have surgery.” He replied, pushing back any fears of where she might be and focusing on the chart in front of him.

“She rejects your proposal and now you’re just done? What happened to you guys?” Link’s jaw tightened so hard you could hear the sound of his teeth clashing.

“She doesn’t want to be with me. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t think she doesn’t want to be with you. She just obviously isn’t ready to get married. And I think you knew that.”

“Whatever, Meredith.” Link’s throat was tight as he pushed past her, swallowing down his guilt.

She had somehow found herself to Link's apartment in a daze, praying he wasn’t there as she pushed through the door. He wasn’t. She grabbed some clean clothes and more cash before leaving once again.

It was somewhat exhilarating, living on the edge. Chasing high after high and making sure that the timing is perfect to prevent any meaningful thoughts from actually surfacing. So far she'd been excelling at it. However, it was when she was halfway back that she realized she had fucked up. Anger and self hatred hit her like a ton of bricks and she almost staggered back. The high had worn off and her mind had started to scream. You are so weak. Back here again after you promised the last time was the end. So many promises, she thought. So many empty promises that she’d broken time and time again. The promise that she’d made to be a good mother. Failed, again. Why should she even attempt to pick up the broken pieces after she found herself back to square one each time? Why not stop trying to fix it and just accept herself for who she truly is, an addict? Why keep disappointing the people that care about her over and over? There was no point. Not anymore. Scout’s name was blaring in her mind like an alarm. He’s better out without you. She convinced herself. Don’t let yourself ruin him. You destroy everything you touch.

“Amelia.” Camilla was looking at her weird. She tried to focus on her new friend, attempting to calm her shaking hands. “Wait too long?” She asked, digging into her bag. All Amelia could do was nod and pull out the cash. “This one’s on me.” Camilla placed a reassuring hand on Amelia’s shoulder as she rolled up her sleeve. She paused, with bated breath, until the image of Scout faded from her mind.

“Can you hear me?” Meredith practically yelled into the crackling phone. “I’m sorry, I know this is your honeymoon. I just still haven’t heard from her and you know her better than me so I need you to tell me what I should do.”

“Is this about Amelia?” Maggie’s groggy voice asked into the speakerphone. “You still haven’t heard from her?”

“I wouldn’t have called if I hadn't. I’m worried about her.” She could practically hear Maggie’s hesitation. “Don’t come back. Don’t even offer that.”

“She’s been having a rough time,” Maggie sighed. “Richard doesn’t let on too much but I know COVID has been hard on her. Link has good intentions. He just hasn’t ever had to see her at her lowest.”

“You think she’s using?” Meredith’s voice was hushed as she passed her Ipad to a nurse and thanked her quietly before letting herself into her office.

“I mean if I rejected a proposal from a man who meant a lot to me because I wasn’t ready I’d probably down a bottle of wine out of guilt." Maggie smiled bitterly.

“She’s stayed sober through a lot worse,” Meredith countered, glancing up to find Bailey waiting at the door with an expression she knew too well. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Tell Winston I say hi.”

“I will. Talk to you later.” Meredith placed her cell phone in her scrub pocket before meeting an irritated Bailey at the door.

“Where’s Shepherd?” Meredith knew what she was going to say before she even spoke the words. She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing how to respond.

“Why?” She asked, receiving an eyebrow raise.

“Because she’s got a gliosarcoma in an hour and she hasn’t clocked in,” Bailey stated, fixing her lab coat and giving Meredith an exasperated look. “Look, whatever drama she and Doctor Lincoln are having, I don’t care. She can show up to work.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Meredith responded. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Wha--” Bailey started. She let out a grunt of disapproval before waving an agitated hand in the air and storming off. Meredith bit the nail on her thumb, sending yet another message to the missing neurosurgeon and wondered guiltily, for a moment, why she was so self destructive.

Link spent a lot of time in the ER compared to his colleagues. Compared to most other specialties, the majority of cases that presented themselves in the emergency room were ortho related. Most of the time it was pretty mundane, whether it be a broken ankle or a dislocated shoulder, but to keep the hospital from impending lawsuits, he was usually needed to supervise the interns, who were prowling in the ER looking for cases and trying to pop limbs back into place or reset joints, thinking they could handle it easily on their own.

As a result of this, Link was already in the OR when the trauma came in. He was sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk, dragging his feet across the floor to propel him side to side. He wasn’t paged so he was unfazed by the ambulance pulling up. Then again, he wasn’t really fazed by much these days after falling into a somewhat self deprecating state. He stared at the clock, hoping he’d be let off early.

“Did you hear about this?” Bailey asked Richard, as she secured her gown around herself and handed him a pair of gloves.

“Yeah,” Richard’s voice was a tone that Link couldn’t quite decipher. “Bunch of overdoses at Quilchena, saw it on the news in the lounge. Must’ve been something laced in whatever they all were doing.” He snapped his gloves aggressively over his hands as if he were mad at something. “This kind of thing has been happening all the time because of COVID. Addicts have been struggling during the pandemic. Never seen meetings so full.” Link found himself wondering if he was talking about Amelia. Bailey nodded to Richard sympathetically ask they rushed to meet the gurney’s being pushed into the ER.

“John Doe,” the paramedic announced. “Got naloxone at the scene, friend administered it. Conscious but having trouble breathing.”

“Page cardio,” Bailey ordered to a resident. Link watched curiously as Richard froze in place.

“Jane Doe,” the paramedic continued. “Unconscious but breathing. She--”

“Put her in trauma one,” Richard ordered firmly. Link wished he could see what was going on as he watched the blood drain from Bailey’s face. “Don’t let anyone see her. She wouldn’t want that.” It clicked in Link’s brain at that very moment when the pair of them turned to look his way. He got out of the chair he was in so fast that it clattered to the ground behind him.

Her face was so pale it was practically grey and her arms and lips were tinted a purpley blue. She looked so slender he felt like one could reach out and just snap her in half. Her expression was almost peaceful though, and that’s what haunted him most. The image of her was burned into his mind immediately and he knew, as they wheeled her away, that it would never be forgotten.

As Bailey and Richard steered her gurney away he felt frozen in place before finally, and without any indication from his mind, his feet began to follow them.

“She’s seizing,” Bailey exclaimed, her hands flying up to either side of her head to avoid holding any of her limbs in place. “Where the hell is trauma?” Link watched as she twitched, bile building up in the back of his throat. He felt slightly dizzy. He’d never been one to get queasy, even in med school while the rest of his peers either fainted or threw up during their first time observing in an OR. That’s when he knew he wanted to become a surgeon. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego telling him that he was superior for being the last one standing or the tiny and quick glance of approval the attending gave him before going back to ignoring him completely. Though, there must be something different about seeing someone he loved in this situation because he had to place a hand on the doorway to steady himself and looked away. Teddy came through the doors at that moment, brushing past him as if he didn’t exist. For a reason he couldn't quite explain let out a breath of relief that it wasn’t Owen. Something in his mind was screaming your fault, your fault, your fault. And selfishly, he hoped that Meredith, or really anyone who cared for Amelia half as much as he did, wasn’t at the hospital, and theorized that she’d probably beat him to a pulp.

“Can I help?” He found himself croaking, receiving only a glance from Richard.

“Absolutely not,” the general surgeon replied firmly, before finally getting Amelia connected to the monitor. Everyone in the room kind of paused for a moment, reading the levels and unanimously thinking to themselves silently, fuck.

“She’s coding,” Teddy proclaimed, as the alarm-like sound began to reveal itself. Link’s heart sank and he reached out to grab her hand, ignoring Richard’s orders for him to leave. Her palm was cold like ice, but not the dead kind of cold. Cold as if she’d just run in and out of the water, grinning and calling to him as if the ocean’s touch had electrified her, sending a rush of serotonin through her veins. Link remembers that look from when they’d gone down to California, for a conference that she was speaking at, like it were yesterday. She’d convinced him to go swimming, despite it being mid February, and had explained that diving into the frigid waves replicated the feeling of euphoria she used to get when a really good high would hit her full force. She’d told him about how she would swim a lot when she was first getting sober, craving the way the world felt like it was on pause and the way that silence filled her ears when her head was completely underwater. That was really the last time she’d grinned at him like that. Right before Covid had really hit. The first time they’d left Scout for the weekend with his parents. Coming up out of that water like she had been brought back to life.

He’d been so blind. He’d watched her slip into a mindless routine. Go to work. Drive home. Feed the baby. Put the baby to bed. Go to bed. Wake up. Every day, over and over. She would walk around like a ghost, stuck between life and death. He had ignored the way she'd fill her free time with meetings and when she had started going to sleep before he got home, brushed it off as postpartum and told himself that everything between them was fine. Postpartum doesn’t last this long you idiot.

“Clear!” Teddy’s calm voice echoed through the room, snapping him back to reality, and he pulled away his hand last minute before her chest rose and fell. His eyes flicked to the heart monitor, nothing. “Again, charge to three fifty. Clear!” The room fell silent as the compression pads thumped. Nothing. Teddy paused, staring at the monitor.

“Dr. Altman?” The nurse called out. “Again?” Her voice was quiet as the trauma surgeon lifted a hand in response.

“Wait,” her voice had become soft. The monitor beeped as a small peak rose and fell. “Come on, Amelia,” Teddy muttered.

“Charge again,” Bailey ordered.

“Just give her a second,” Teddy pleaded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “She’s fighting.” The trio of doctors stared at the monitor while Link fixated his eyes on his girlfriend and slid his hand into hers once again, interlocking his fingers with hers. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The monitor beeped, and then beeped again, and then again. Link forced himself to look up and watched as the numbers climbed.

“Thank you, god.” Bailey brought a shaking hand to her face before closing her fingers into a fist and pressing it to her forehead. “We are lucky that the lord is looking out for this woman because the people in her life seem to not be.” The comment cut through Link like a knife.

“Bailey, that is not fair!” Richard exclaimed. Link had never heard the man raise his voice with such aggravation, even Bailey winced as she stormed out of the room, throwing her gloves to the side.

“She’s lost a lot of people...and a lot of surgeons,” Richard muttered in apology to him.

“Can she breathe on her own?” Link choked, looking at Teddy, who shifted on her feet.

“She’s weak. I’d like to keep the tube in for a couple of hours at least. See how she does. I’d also like to get neuro down here to give her a check. Let’s get her up to the ICU for now and monitor her closely. She’s stable. Let’s focus on that for now.” Link nodded, not knowing what else to say as Teddy pulled off her gown and tossed it into the bin before practically staggering out of the stuffy room.

“I didn’t know.” Something about the way Richard was looking his way was causing a buildup of defensiveness inside him.

“How?” Richard shook his head with disappointment, massaging his throbbing temple and trying to block out the emphysematous but rhythmic breath sounds coming from the breathing tube. “How, did you just not know?” His colleague was radiating judgment and Richard’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits before his entire body slumped, in no effort to lecture Link about something he should be hearing from Amelia. He looked at his friend, without a trace of condemnation, knowing, so easily, that it could be him in that hospital bed and her where he was standing. “It’s not my place,” he finally stated, tearing his eyes away from Amelia and blinking away any buildup in his tear ducts. He turned to the nurse and thanked her, always polite. “When you take her up can you make it discreet?” He knew the woman had recognized Amelia immediately. “Her reputation is on the line.” The nurse nodded as if she understood. Richard thanked her again before exiting the room.

Richard had ended up telling Meredith, who stopped by to let Link know that she and Hayes would pick up Scout from daycare and take him home with them. Link couldn’t read her expression, it was clouded as if she was undergoing an internal conflict that caused her to wince and look away upon glancing at Amelia. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, they looked as if someone had applied too much blush to a pale complexion and were hot to the touch. Teddy had removed the breathing tube about an hour ago. She’d gasped at first, her lungs whistling and wheezing in protest. Enough to make Teddy almost contemplate putting it back in before the breathing had settled.

“You didn’t look for her,” Meredith blurted out, as if she’d been trying to keep the words at bay. The look on her face told him that she regretted saying it almost immediately.

“Neither did you,” he bit back, more aggressively than he would’ve liked. Meredith’s face snapped away from him so quickly it was as if he’d physically hit her.

“If you really loved her. Enough to marry her. Her response shouldn’t have mattered,” her voice was as sharp as a knife. “She loves you and she’s been unfortunate enough to have most of the people she’s loved taken away from her. Do you know how rare it is for Amelia to come to Maggie and I teary eyed because she finally feels safe and loved and not being pressured into anything by the person she loves? " Meredith took a step back as if she didn't want to continue but couldn't help herself. "Amelia is a runner. She breaks under the expectations that the people that she loves have of her and she functions under the fear that the people she loves are going to leave her or die. So if you want to be an ass and make her feel like she isn’t enough for you because she doesn’t feel the need to commemorate her love to you on a stupid peice of paper, I will remove you from my sister’s life.” She was gone before he could even think of a reply and he stared wordlessly at the spot she’d just vacated.

“No,” the voice was so soft he could barely hear it. His head whipped to where she was lying. “No, no, no, no.” Amelia’s eyes were wide and she recoiled as he reached out to touch her. Her heart monitor climbed and he pulled back his hand. She was looking at him in a way that made his skin crawl. He realized, then, that she was looking at him in fear. She looked scared. It shocked him how quickly everything had fallen apart. How quickly he’d gone from someone she’d loved to someone she felt as though she barely knew. But it wasn’t really that quickly, a part of him was whispering over his shoulder. You just didn’t want to accept it.

“Hey.” The words sounded stupid as soon as they left his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He found himself wondering what had happened to her over the last couple of days, the bruises scattered along her arms had become more evident as colour had returned to her skin. She gagged suddenly, moaning in a way that made him sick and he slid a kidney dish under her just in time. There didn’t seem to be much in her stomach so it was mostly dry heaving. Her heart monitor climbed every time he tried to touch her and he gave up on trying to hold back her hair.

“She’s awake?” Teddy stood in the doorway. Amelia looked up at her blankly before laying her head back against the hospital bed and staring up at the ceiling. The shame in her eyes were evident. Link nodded to Teddy, who gave him a somewhat genuine smile. “I’ll just do a quick vitals check.”

“No,” Amelia moaned, the pain in her voice causing Teddy to stop in her tracks. “I just want to go home. Let me go home.”

“You’re not going to go home though, are you?” Link glanced up to find Richard standing at the foot of the hospital bed, arms crossed. His stern expression was slightly wavering. Link wondered how hard it was for him to even be within two meters of her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Amelia spat, pulling her IV out of her wrist and throwing it across the room hard enough that the machine screeched against the concrete floor. Link grimaced as the IV site began to bleed. The sudden bout of energy seemed to exhaust her as she collapsed back onto the bed.

“We’re good for now, Doctor Altman,” Richard said softly, not wanting to watch as his coworker, and friend, incriminated herself in front of someone she’d regret. “You can go home with Maggie or I can check you into a rehab clinic, the choice is yours.” Link’s eyes fell to the floor, his face burning at the idea that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of her.

“Maggie’s on her honeymoon,” Amelia mumbled, the anger dying out in her eyes as she realized what his response would be before he even spoke it.

“I called her,” Richard confirmed her prediction. “Meredith is taking care of Scout and I shouldn’t even be in the same room as you.” Hot tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks as she glared at him. You ruin everything. The voice in her head had been telling her over and over since she’d woken up.

“Rehab. I choose rehab. Call her and tell her not to come.” Maggie had arrived at the hospital an hour ago but Link decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “I’ll call right now.” He stepped outside where his daughter was waiting anxiously and placed both hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

“I need to go in and see her,” Maggie’s breathing was asynchronous, she held her shaky hands into her chest, trying to look into her sister’s hospital room.

“Don’t,” Richard warned. “She’s not herself right now. I shouldn’t have called and stressed you out. She chose rehab.” He watched as her face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Let me take her home.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be this bad. It’s too much responsibility to put on anyone. I...I just don’t think it would be a good idea, Maggie.” He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob.

“Link, is he…” she trailed off as she buried her face into her biological father’s scrub top.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Richard sighed. “But out of everyone, he’s the last person that should be taking care of her right now.” Maggie nodded, cursing herself for not doing more as she had watched Amelia change over the last couple of months. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend Charlotte? She needs an ally, someone who understands how her brain works. I know how much you care about her, Maggie, but you can’t help her the way she really needs in a couple of days when the realization of what she’s done has hit.”

“Charlotte, the one in L.A.? I’ve talked to her a couple times, never really for too long, just over FaceTime when Amelia used to call her while living at Meredith’s.”

“Amelia brought her up a lot at meetings,” Richard bit the inside of his lip, hoping that he was making the right decision. “I think we need to call Charlotte. I think that she knows Amelia on a level that not any of us in Seattle can really understand.”

“Okay,” Maggie nodded, pushing her own feelings aside. “Get St. Ambrose Hospital in Los Angeles on the phone,” she loudly ordered to the intern, sitting at the nurses station, who had been just out of earshot, “And tell them I need to speak to Doctor Charlotte King.”

Anguish of the Quirkless

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shoto (could be platonic... though I ship them a lot lmao)

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto; MENTIONED - Bakugo Katsuki

Summary: Izuku doesn’t explode.

But burn after burn, he can’t take it anymore.

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: I had no reason to write this other than the fact I’ve been really angry and I needed to write something down.

I guess this is technically my first Tododeku fic? But like, it isn’t the focus here, so interpret it the way you want (if you can). I hope this didn’t turn out to be too OOC, though.

Please be aware of the tags and disclaimers below. Be safe. <3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - childhood trauma, past bullying/abuse and injury

*NOT BAKUGO/BAKUDEKU FRIENDLY!

--

Izuku doesn’t explode.

If anything, he’s more than scared of explosions. The explosions that silence him, that burn his tongue and his arms and legs, and the notebook of his fanboyish train of thought. The blasts that keep happening no matter how far away he is.

So no, he doesn’t explode. He probably can’t.

--

Though every time he stares at the blond spikes of his classmate, Izuku is sickened by a cocktail of years of combustions.

Maybe he does admire the beauty of the explosions when far away. Depending on them, they can actually be quite beautiful when done for the greater good. But when he’s so near, to try to reach them, Izuku gets injured. It’s probably his fault to begin with.

But even with patience and care, Izuku is always exploded back to where he’s been stuck in since he was four.

Izuku is always behind Katsuki. He can’t go around him and walk away. He can’t push him aside, he can’t as much as talk to him. Katsuki will forever be a wall, a minefield that will remain activated until the end of time.

And most importantly, Izuku can never explode back.

He hates explosions, after all.

--

The flaming blend of feelings, however, reach his mind at times he should be feeling okay.

The image of himself exploding Katsuki, of yelling at him, beating the crap out of him sickens the young hero to no end.

But it replays in his head still, even when they’re not fighting and instead having fun with their other classmates. Izuku stares at Katsuki for mere seconds and the thoughts come to him. The freckled boy swallows it all back, until it comes to haunt him at night. Until the burns sting his arms and his heart.

Izuku has tense nights, yet he never explodes. Ever.

--

You’d think Izuku would be happy here. He is happy, though, to be where he’s dreamed of for so long.

But each day that passes, he seems to get worse, he’s sick and tired and angry, and the combustions are closer to his heart. The fantasies become more violent, they’re disturbing. Izuku stains his hands, massacring the remaining of blond hair and hateful red eyes.

Izuku could never take blood from someone. It’s awful – he’s being awful. What would others think? What would everyone else think? All Might, his mother, his friends?

Izuku knows he can cry, but what about the rage? What about the ticking bomb inside him? The bomb that might be close to destroying all around him?

He can’t let anyone see.

Least of all Katsuki.

--

Thankfully, U.A. owns several gymnasiums for the students to train. Few, though, are somewhat left aside due to the new ones, but they don’t really close them. His classmates don’t seem to use them either, as far as he’s concerned.

Izuku finds the classic training tools, including several, big punching bags – different from those you see in common gyms, obviously. They’re able to take up a lot more damage, useful for physical-focused quirks.

He prepares and attacks. Holding it back, Izuku knows to be careful, to protect others. He hates explosions. He hates hurting others.

(All everyone has ever done was hurt him. Why? He was powerless. Quirkless. Deku.)

(That’s why he reclaimed the name, to transform it into someone who could be trusted, someone who could never hurt.)

Izuku kicks, dodges, as if in a real fight. He gives the bag mercy. Probably unnecessary.

(No one gave him mercy.)

(Midoriya Izuku, a boy who could never do wrong, who did nothing but exist.)

(He was exploded like no one ever was.)

The boy’s hands shine red with One for All, as do his eyes. The punching bag absorbs the power, becoming harder to punch and overcome. Izuku continues to spare it, to no avail.

(No matter what he does, he’ll continue to be blasted on the face.)

(Whether he’s powerless or not. The explosions will punish him until he’s gone.)

It’s then that the bag’s energy turns against him and blows him away, Izuku falling back and failing, once again.

It’s all too familiar.

Izuku roars.

He advances with his all, at the same speed as Gran Torino’s, but with a rage unknown to others. A rage from no hero. Heroes don’t feel hate, only towards evil – yet never, never to this extent. With revenge comes nothing. No hero should be selfish.

(This doesn’t come from a hero. It comes from… a boy? A monster?)

And Izuku is attacking the bag with no barriers holding him back. The second time it attacks, Izuku doesn’t let himself fall again. He returns at full speed and destroys the bag. He’s yelling this entire time, his throat hurting yet he’s far from quitting.

“WHY?!” Izuku demands from the bag. “WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

As always, he gets no answer, only blows and ignorance. And he’s punching it again.

The red of the bag infuriates him, it’s all he sees, and he wants to eradicate.

All those years, all that time never fighting back, never looking for solutions after years of rejections; they all come back to stab him again.

You’re useless.

Pathetic.

You need to deal with it.

“You RUINED MY LIFE!” Izuku screams, eyes shut but red, dams overflowing. “AND YOU DON’T EVEN CARE!”

Despite his cries and punches, they’re not moving, they’re not listening. When have they ever? When?

“I HATE YOU!” Izuku yells, his most disliked words. He’d never say to anyone.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

“I

HATE

YOU!!! ”

 CRASH!

He yelps at the force thrown back at him. Smoke enters his nose, painful coughs echoing.

When Izuku looks back, he gasps without making a sound.

He didn’t destroy just one bag – it fired back and damaged the other ones, now abandoned on the floor.

And even then—

Izuku growls and punches the floor, this time without any power left.

He’s still burning.

It doesn’t matter. It never matters.

Now everything smokes and suffocates him, and he’s crying the most he’s ever did.

That’s why he hates explosions.

--

Izuku doesn’t go to Recovery Girl, nor does he tell anyone. He hopes Aizawa-sensei never finds out what he’d done. He looked for cameras and, thankfully, found none.

He lies to his friends he trained in the woods and got a little ahead of himself. As a response, Uraraka tells him to be careful and Iida insists Quirk training should be balanced for him, as a hero in training. Two important statements, of course.

Todoroki, however, observes.

It’s the most he does. Todoroki watches and sees all, barely saying much. He reads people like no one else does. He was the first to realize something would go wrong with Iida, when the latter had wanted to seek his brother’s almost assassin.

This is different, though. So much different.

Izuku ignores it the best he can.

--

Late at night, he can’t sleep. The green-eyed boy sneaks in the kitchen, to grab some tea to make. His classmates seem to have healthy sleep schedules, especially when exams are out of the scene.

So slow steps take him off guard, and Izuku hides his arms under his sleeves.

“Midoriya.”

He sighs deeply. “Oh, Todoroki-kun… it’s just you. What’s up?”

Todoroki shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh. Me neither.”

“Hm.”

Todoroki is doing it again, he can tell. Watching him. (Judging.)

Izuku hates being watched – he’s watched the entire time.

The tea doesn’t take much longer to be ready, so Izuku barely bats an eye to Todoroki and makes his way to the stairs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbles.

“Wait, Midoriya—”

“What ?”

Izuku regrets the moment he hisses, but he’s so tired.

“Just…” his classmate hesitates. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Todoroki’s tone has… softened.

Izuku doesn’t turn around.

“… Good night, Todoroki-kun.”

--

The days go by like usual. It’s like nothing happened. No one has found out, or so he hopes.

Todoroki hasn’t talked to him since that night. Or well, Izuku tries to avoid looking at him for too long in the first place. They have lunch together with the rest, but there’s no direct contact at all.

Todoroki isn’t the kind of person you can make excuses. He reads into your tone, he knows something is wrong. While Izuku’s relationship with him has definitely improved since the Sports Festival and Stain, he still finds that aspect of him a little intimidating. Because Todoroki, in contrast, is hard to read most of the time.

Izuku might as well be avoiding him. Of course, he’s polite when Todoroki has a question or when he asks for a favor. Though he rejects the suggestion they train together in the next day. Mostly, because Izuku’s wounds still sting, and he refuses to go to the infirmary.

At last, Izuku finds himself going to the old gymnasium, with no intention to seethe like before, even if the urge screams in his brain. It looks… the same, on the outside. As for the inside…

Instead of the gray smoke and destroyed reds, Izuku stops as soon as he catches white strands connected to wine, fire red. A fire that doesn’t explode, but fire, nonetheless.

Izuku’s veins fill with One for All, and before he goes Full Cowling to get as far away as possible, he’s less than lucky to expose himself.

“Midoriya?”

Nononononono—

Even though Todoroki isn’t using his Quirk, Izuku feels like he’s frozen by his giant ice spikes, caught to explain himself.

Why on earth is Todoroki here? Does he also know this spot? Oh, of course. Todoroki often trains alone but Izuku never knew where. Oh my god.

There are no words shared or spoken, least of all whispered. Izuku can’t bring himself to look up. There’s only shame to be shared. No one was supposed to find out and yet he just revealed himself. Stupid. Idiot!

A step.

“Midoriya…”

Izuku shakes his head.

“I know what you’re going to say.”

Todoroki stops. “What?”

“… that I’m supposed to be a hero, right? That I shouldn’t have done this? I- I know I shouldn’t have.” Izuku clenches his jaw and his fists, to contain the trembling rage. “I shouldn’t be angry.”

The fallen punching bags stare.

“But I didn’t know what to do with this anger. It only kept growing and- and it keeps growing inside of me, these thoughts, this scream in my throat,” Izuku spits out without much thought. “I’ve been hurt my entire life and I hate- I hate hurting people back, I hate wanting to hurt them, but I hate them, too, I hate-!” For a moment, he bites back the poisonous name, yet he can’t take it anymore, he’s tired of being silenced by the explosions.

“… I hate Kacchan. I hate that he always explodes me in the face, I hate that he used to go after other kids, too. He always explodes and hurts people, and he doesn’t give a shit.” Izuku’s tone is wet, soaked with weight. “He doesn’t give a shit about me, he still hurts me no matter what I do, and I’m sick of it. And god, all I want is to punch his fucking face and scream, because he never cared about making me cry or burning me at all, he- he doesn’t care! And I don’t know why I still do, why I even try to communicate with him! Nothing I do is enough for him!”

Izuku observes the multiple layers of old wood under his feet, each second finding new details, new splinters.

“This is why I don’t explode. Why I never burst out. I-I don’t want to hurt anyone… but I’m still so angry, Todoroki-kun. I’m only feeling worse than before.” The freckled teen pathetically dries his drowned face. “It’s like nothing is ever going to get better.”

The temperature is a bitter cold, despite the sun outside.

Izuku cries like that boy he’d known in Middle School, the one that would weep to himself in the shadows after getting burned on the face.

“W-What should I do?” He asks to no one.

It’s, again, a question without an answer.

Except…

His arms are taken by two hands that slowly pull up his sleeves, revealing the wounds from the hazard. The hands brush against his blistered skin as gently as possible. One hot, the other cold, but equally mindful.

“I think…” Todoroki whispers, “you need someone.”

Izuku’s face is close to the piercing gray and blue eyes, the ones who always read him… but not in judgment, he realizes. They read each sentence, each word of himself and take it to their heart, hopefully to come up with a meaningful response.

“Because then… who will protect you from the explosion?” Todoroki questions, his right hand reaching Izuku’s left.

The question is one he’s never considered. Izuku makes sure no one gets hurt, and maybe he’s successful at that, yet…

Todoroki’s face is close enough for their heads to touch, some of his red and white bangs touching Izuku’s forehead.

“It’s okay to be angry, Midoriya.”

“You’re… not mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku gulps, “I feel… disgusting.”

“I understand. But you’re not disgusting. You were hurt.”

Izuku’s mouth quivers. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Todoroki’s hands move from his arms to his shoulders, pulling him forward. Izuku shivers.

He’s…

Todoroki has never hugged him before.

Sure, they’ve gotten so far as friends. But after all this time, they’ve never touched each other; least of all Todoroki, who is, reasonably, a more reserved person.

The hug is far from awkward, nonetheless. It’s… good. Izuku has never been hugged like this. Even with the crime scene of his anger right there for Todoroki and everyone else to see… the red-and-white-haired boy chooses to hold him.

(After all, he’s also a boy. A boy afraid of his thoughts. Afraid while no one knows.)

Izuku returns the contact, his face somewhat under Todoroki’s chin.

“I’m sorry Bakugo is a piece of shit.” He adds quietly, “Well, more than he already is.”

That manages to attract a miserable laugh.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

Izuku hums, not up to protest as he melts in his touch. He could never have imagined Todoroki to be this… comfortable.

The permanent smell of smoke and dust does eventually bother him, so Izuku suggests, “Want to get out of here?”

“Sure.”

And they leave the gymnasium behind, hopefully their secret will be left alone.

Todoroki takes Izuku to a tree, the leaves green like the latter’s hair. There’s enough of a shadow to cover them from the sun, from the burning flames far away. Todoroki helps a little with the burns, his ice the most soothing Izuku has felt.

Until the sun sets, their hands are intertwined, scars only they know.

G o o d b y e    t o    a    w o r l d

LITERAL ANGST FT. P! LOV X TEEN! READER, MOSTLY HIMIKO TOGA HERE <33

WARNINGS: CURSING, DEATH, BLOOD, YOUCH YOUCH HURT, READER DIES, HIMIKO CRIES, THAT KINDA RHYMED, UHM, kid did NOT proof read this,,, apologies dkfjgndg

WC: 1478

T I M E S T A M P : 6:55 AM

AN: Ive attached an announcement to my rules, right below my masterlist link. please read that!! <3

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“Kid! Please run!” 

Himiko Toga’s voice rings through the debris of the broken down bar. You stumble, your eyes trained on the amount of heroes flooding in, the chaos bound to be caused bouncing in your mind.

You scramble to run, your hands catching you right before you fall as you bolt as fast as you can.

You know this is protocol. You have to go.

Out of everything they have told you, taught you, scolded you for,

This was the lesson that rang through the bars every week, every moment of danger.

‘If we get attacked, you run.’

Its a no matter what, no matter what you’ve witnessed or how scared you are for the others, they want you alive. 

Even if it means without them, you're are so overwhelming important to them.

Above all else.

Run.

And you try your best. Your sneakers thud with every step, feeling the shake in your legs, the anxiety in your brain. 

All you have to do is get to the apartment. The apartment assigned for this moment, and this moment only. The moment were the life of the League depends on.

The one that has been fully stocked since its been bought, the one made for the moments of chaos like this.

Thats all you have to get too. And they will see you there, everyone safe and sound.

Everyone.

The sirens and the yells of heroes bounce in and out of your mind as you ran out the back of the bar, and into the allies that felt like they were constructed for you.

You ran left and right, listening for footsteps behind you, to the left, the right, above you, anything that could give away the presence of a hero.

And there was nothing. 

Maybe that was it. The false sense of security that washed over you. Maybe it caused you to become reckless.

Or maybe it was the fact that you were safe for a split second there, and he ruined it.

The image of Himiko’s terrified eyes, but unending smile burned into your eyes at your sneakers thudded on the concrete in the dead of night.

You turned one  last time, and the apartment building came into sight. The bland grey, and mostly broken windows relived you for only a minute as you focused on the sound of your rapid breathing as you slowed down.

The apartment building itself is practically abandoned, and its not hard in the slightest to get in the grey old building.

Everythings going to plan, although you can still here the sirens go off, but theres no yelling. None at all. 

This is the plan you’ve gone through so many times, over and over again.

Sometimes things go exactly to plan, 

And they’re just not yours.

Slamming the door to the disgustingly decorated apartment complex, you slid down to the floor, your back slumping at you curled into a ball, your face in your hands. Your breathing still rapid, from running from the bar and up the multiple flights of stares, from the anxiety of the whole situation, that anyone and everyone you have ever loved could die right now.

And most of all,

The feeling of eyes on you.

Glaring eyes.

Hero eyes.

Your head rises slowly, unsure of what to do.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

It was never a part of it.

What the fuck now?

A dark haired hero sits on a red sofa, the red matches his glaring eyes as his mangy hair floats up.

“The League’s kid.”

His voice feels mocking and you feel anger build up.

You cant even fucking believe this.

Shota Aizawa is sitting in the apartment everyone considered to be the escape plan.

And all you can do is die.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up from the cold wooden ground. This isn’t a part of the fucking plan.

He rises slowly, your back is still against the wall. Your brain racks through options as your faced with an underground hero, one that’s even defeated Tomura before, even if it was through a sliver of good luck.

God, the way you wished you had that sliver of luck.

Before even thinking, you took off. You legs taking you anywhere that you felt had a chance of survival in.

For fucks sake, you wish you didn’t go into her room.

Out of everywhere you slam the door entering into Himiko’s room, you can feel the immediate pain shes going to suffer through.

The tears, 

The blood,

The absolute anger and havoc herself alone that she can cause.

“There’s no where to run kid. You’ve got two choices.”

But you know the choices. You’ve heard them time and time again. Its either,

Rat on your family and become an enemy of the few people you’ve ever loved,

Or die.

And this time? You don’t have a way out.

Theres no one left to save you anymore.

Clocks stop ticking.

Luck runs dry.

And heartbeats go silent.

You look the man straight in the eye, still glaring red as it runs dry.

You know your choices.

And you know what has to happen.

“You can come with me, unharmed, or I’ll hav-”

“Kill me.” you practically shout at him, the tears building up as your throat closes and nose burn.

“For the love of god, do it.” Your eyes wide, bottom lip trembling and hands balled up, you accept it.

The fact that even though this is not what you want, what anyone in your League wants, it will be the only option. 

And that’s all you can do.

Is watch as the very root of your anger takes your life and adds gasoline to the fire in within the depths of the League.

And just like that you sat on the cold ground once again, leaned against the cute white bed frame Himiko owned, and bled out onto her floor. The warm red ooze left your mouth as well, dripping down your chin.

The worst part out of this situation, isn’t that you’re dying on floor of Himiko Toga’s pastel decorated room, its the fact that her once cute room with forever be haunted by the memory of your blood being spilledt.

And the realization that she was too late to save you. 

You can hear the front door open ever so softly, and hear Himiko call out for you.

The only kid that shes been able to take care of, to trust, and protect for months on end,

Is now dying alone in her room.

And that it itself,

Will cause her to break from the inside out.

And the world will never know true peace again.

Her footsteps echo down the hall you remember running down in a moment of panic, and as her door creaks open theres not much you can do. Expect watch her fall apart in a split second.

“No.. wait please I’m so sorry, please wait, hold on, Tomura- he can- Tomura!” She calls out for the male, who isn’t anywhere near this designated safe space. A destroyed safe place. 

She cradles you in her arms as her tears overflow, and her smile decays into an everlasting pain on her face. She feels helpless, because she is.

All she can do is watch you die as you lay in her arms.

All she can do is know that shes too late.

And you’re so far gone.

“Please stay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here, I-” Her own sobs cut her off, her hands shaking and face distorting into such a clear vision of pain as she strokes your cheek with right hand. Her heavy tears fall as you smile every so slightly up back to her.

Your eyes stare into hers, the ones you used to meet every morning when she would wake you up, or when you needed validation.

“Thank you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, something she can barely hear, but so painfully there. She whimpers, pulling you as close to her body as she can.

“Please stay, just for a- a minute longer please.” She begs you to hold onto any sliver of life you have left, anything at all. But sometimes, you know what has to happen.

Sometimes you don’t hold on.

“I’ll say goodbye soon.” You smile as wide as you can to her, hand resting on hers as your breathing slows. As you watch yourself leave your family.

“Though its the end of the world,” Her brows furrow even further than before and she can feel her stomach churn. The sight of you in her arms has her so overwhelming broken, she’ll never recover.

“Don’t blame yourself,” She smiles as wide as she an as she lets out a broken sob.

You slip right through her fingers.

“Now.” 

She was too late.

the color of you - blue (6)

ITS HERE. I HOPE I DID WELL. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT AKDSHKFJSDH

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3213

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → hell of flying by jeremy zucker, cassette by demian, a lil of bugbear by chloe moriondo

this chapter → y/n comes to conclusions, keigo’s a dork, tension, a fight, crying.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

So it’s been… strange.

Or rather, it hasn’t been strange at all, which makes everything even more strange, somehow. You feel like things should be so much different, but they’re not. You reached a wild conclusion that threw you for a fucking loop, made you sit in your kitchen at Angel Cakes and contemplate what the hell you were going to do about anything that would ever occur to you from here on out. Sometimes you almost ask Keigo how things haven’t changed at all, since you’ve decided that you like him, but then you have to stop yourself from saying anything because, oh, right, you haven’t told him.

You don’t plan to, either.

It’d just mess everything up, wouldn’t it? To say “hey, I know we’ve been fake dating for like two and a half months now but I’m kind of liking the idea of really dating you”? Kinda fucked. Not to mention, from a professional stance, what if it ruins your guys’ chemistry when you’re being watched by the entire world? If someone finds out that the whole thing is fake - regardless of your feelings - it means Keigo’s public image and your entire life at the bakery. Everything would go to shit, and after it’s burned down, you doubt you’d even have Keigo.

So you’re not telling him. You’re in love with one of your closest friends, who you are also fake dating, who is also the Number Two hero in the country, and you’re not telling him how you feel. Yes. Okay.

You’ve had a lot of time to reflect about your own feelings, because after Keigo left to fight that villain the other day (and after you managed to get off the ground and clean up) you were sure it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Yeah, he looked pretty, and there was something dreamy and domestic about laughing and throwing baking ingredients at each other, so maybe your heart just got confused. 

But you’d called him to ask if he was okay (instead of a usual text) and he’d picked up the phone and laughed and your heart had not done that before. Not with Keigo, not on the phone, and not like that. And usually his pet names amused you, but he’d called you “sweetheart” over the phone and his voice was tired and drawled a bit. It made you dizzy. You said goodbye pretty soon after that.

You’re barely walking up the stairs of your apartment complex when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Butterflies (and moths, a few) erupt in your stomach when you read the name, and then immediately die when you read the text itself.

keigo baby 🐦

Do u want to have a playdate with me 👉👈 I could come over if ur mom says its okay

Why him? You think to yourself, swallowing the vomit in your throat and fishing your keys out of your bag to unlock your door. You text back when you get inside, throwing your belongings on the nearest surface.

y/n

don’t ever talk to me again

keigo baby 🐦

Is that a yes??

y/n

….fine, but if u ever use those emojis again i’ll break up with u. legally 

keigo baby 🐦

baby no!!!!

You throw your phone down onto your sofa before flopping over it, letting yourself sink into the cushions for a moment. It takes no more than ten minutes for Keigo to be at your door, letting himself in without so much as a knock. You know that it’s technically your doing, since you didn’t lock it when you came in, but you still whine at him about it, and he mocks you jokingly.

It seems he either senses your tiredness or didn’t have anything in mind to do anyways, because all Keigo does is lift your legs up from where they’re sprawled out on the couch and sits down in their place, letting them flop back onto his lap. He adjusts so his wings aren’t smashed against the back of the couch (or, at least, not as much). You move your feet off of his lap.

You’ve come to really appreciate days like this, where you simply bask in his company and he does yours. As much as Keigo is nonchalant about his lifestyle, you know it’s exhausting for him to do what he does every single day, and then to have to talk to people (fans, reporters, anyone). He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know. And, well, if you can give him a moment of comfort -

God, no, stop thinking like that. You can’t afford to think like that right now. 

The two of you talk, occasionally sharing posts from social media and laughing at dumb little cat videos (there was one that was five whole minutes of one of the guys from that k-pop band being compared to cat pictures and it’s the most wholesome thing you’ve ever seen to date). Before you know it, it’s been a few hours, the sun just fully covered by the distant mountains. The sky cools down in purple and blue hues, dressing up for the night to come. You and Keigo are laughing over old vines, and in your mind you think that it really couldn’t be that bad for this to be every night instead of just… some nights.

At the end of the compilation Keigo groans out a lingering laugh, stretching his legs out as best he can without hitting your coffee table. You stand up, feeling the need to move around as well, and walk towards your kitchen for a drink. Keigo stands after you but doesn’t move, letting his wings flex and stretch from being contained for so long. You get a glass of water, lift it to your lips just as Keigo lifts his arms above his head and holy fucking shit, his stomach -

Tummy! the tiny voice in your head squeals, but the hornier one screams at the top of its lungs ABS and honestly you don’t know what the fuck to do and neither does your body so you choke on your water. Keigo startles, eyes wide, and with a mumbled “holy shit” makes his way over to you as you cough and sputter over your sink.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back, eyes watery and face red for multiple reasons. You take a deep breath and Keigo rubs your back, eyeing you, which only makes the entire situation worse.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He asks, and you nod, but you can’t look at him.

“Yeah, uh,” you clear your throat, blinking a few times. “Just… went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

Fuck.

-

You barely recover from seeing a sliver of Keigo’s stomach, and the memory haunts you for days. You attempt at willing it out of your brain, try to tell yourself that you just didn’t see it at all, but your heart is strong as hell and refuses to let your head forget it. You think about it multiple times a day. You think about it for at least twenty minutes each time. You think about it until Keigo texts you a little less than a week after it happened.

Your phone buzzes on the counter in the kitchen and you finish up your bread dough, putting it into a bowl gently and setting a timer to let it prove. Once your hands are effectively clean, you open the message, letting yourself scoff.

keigo baby 🐦

Just finished a photoshoot, could really use a donut right now :/

Attached to his message is a picture of himself, and honestly, he looks really fucking good. It takes pretty much everything in you not to collapse and die. God.

You look up a picture of a donut on Google - they sold out today, and you are not going to make one just for Keigo - and send it to him. For my hardworking fake boyfriend, you send with it. Mostly to emphasize fake for both of you. Yourself especially.

keigo baby 🐦

Fake??? :( sweetheart, u hurt me

Your mind stops working when you read his text, so you leave him on read.

-

The next time you see Keigo in person is when you’re contemplating whether or not you should keep… hanging out with him.

The contract only has a little over a month left, so it’s not as if it’d be that hard to deal with… besides, it’d be easier on the both of you when this whole thing inevitably ends. You don’t see yourself being able to be around him without thinking about kissing him over and over. Not now, at least. You hope it changes. You hope it’s a weird phase or something. 

Keigo texts you and invites - demands - you over (his excuse is that with the hero conference coming up soon many of the smaller heroes are taking care of villains and giving him more time off) and honestly, if you’re really gonna try to stop talking to him as much, this could be your goodbye or whatever. Also, he mentioned wine, and you need to get drunk. Like, “give me an entire bottle so I can cope with the idea of falling for you because I know that you don’t feel the same and I am simply trying to ride out the rest of this “relationship” so I don’t ruin our dynamic and chemistry while we’re being watched by literally the entire world” drunk.

Yeah. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Every time you go to Keigo’s apartment it reminds you of just how broke you are, but you suppose the apartment itself is fitting. It’s definitely modern, but it holds the clutter of Keigo’s personality - blankets strung everywhere, LED lights, a poster of Endeavor hung up in his closet (but you’re sworn to secrecy about that, you pinky promised). When you knock on his door he doesn’t answer, and it’s a good minute and a half before you get a text that says “it’s open, come in” and you sigh, because again, why him?

He’s sitting on the couch, and when he sees you he smiles like he didn’t just refuse to open the door because he’s too lazy. “Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” he says, and for a second you can fool yourself into believing it’s genuine.

“I’m just here for the wine, dude,” you tease, and he mocks offense at your words.

“Ouch. Mid-relationship rejection.”

Nonetheless, Keigo gets the wine himself (selective little shit) and two glasses, pours each of you one. It isn’t long before you’ve had at least three glasses but no more than five, and you’re maybe, perhaps, a little drunk. 

Keigo is, too, so you’re not really alone, but he’s talking about something Endeavor did like he’s the greatest hero in the world. It makes you smile, just a bit, but then again, you’re usually sentimental when you’re drunk, so maybe it’s just that. Or maybe it’s because you like him. It doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey, Kei,” you murmur when he’s done with his story. He hums, takes another sip out of his glass. “What happens when this is over?”

You look at your feet, scrunching up your toes inside your socks so you have something to look at. Then your eyes move up more, to the top of his coffee table, and then finally they land on him, and he looks gorgeous. He always does.

Keigo blinks once, twice, then shrugs, goes back to his wine. “Dunno. I hope we’re still friends, though,” he says.

“Friends? You want to be friends?”

You’re drunk. You should go to sleep, or go home, or something. Talking is not something you should be doing.

“What?” Keigo asks, but more like he didn’t hear you rather than he didn’t understand, so you take your chance, even through your hazed mind.

“Nothing,” you say, swirling the wine in your glass. “Forget about it.”

And it seems like he does, because when you wake up on his couch the next morning with a killer headache and he stumbles out of his room with a groan he doesn’t mention anything about it even when he talks about everything else.

-

Keigo texts you a few days later, a picture of him posing with another wine bottle. 

keigo baby 🐦

round 2??

The picture is cute. He’s smiling, all lips and curves and blonde hair and tan skin. He’s dressed in sweats, you can see, but he still looks like a model. It makes your heart sink and fly at the same time.

y/n

can’t, sorry. have to stay late at angel cakes. i’ll see u at the hero conference tho

He doesn’t text you for a while after that.

-

The conference comes quick, and before you know it you’re in another hotel suite, getting makeup done. It doesn’t take as much dressing up - your dress is shorter this time, less formal, your makeup less extravagant. You don’t feel nervous, not like last time, but you don’t necessarily feel comfortable either. Your makeup artist is different this time.

It takes a considerably less amount of time for you to get ready, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before it’s time to go. Your dress is beautiful - blue, royal, deep and light at the same time and gorgeous. Simple, too, nothing too out there. When you step out of the hotel room you notice Keigo’s still in his hero costume, but you suppose he has to be. You don’t match with him like you did last time.

There’s no banter, no teasing, no compliments. The ride to the venue is quiet. Keigo sends you a look at one point - a “tell me what’s wrong” look - but you only shrug, offer him the best smile you can, which apparently isn’t convincing, because he frowns when he sees it. You wish he wouldn’t frown so much.

The conference is short, but maybe you’re just distracted. An usher walks you to your seat at a VIP table and it seems like you sit down and then it ends. You clap for Keigo, smile like you’re endlessly proud of him - and you are, even if it doesn’t show that well tonight - and watch him make a scene becuase that’s what he does. He winks at you at one point during the night, while he’s talking into the microphone, and you know it’s for the publicity. The conference ends significantly earlier than the awards show, however, so you don’t have to stay in the suite for the night. 

The ride back to the suite seems shorter than the ride to the venue and it takes you maybe twenty minutes to wipe the makeup off of your face and take off your dress. You walk across the hall to Keigo’s room, knock on the door. He answers.

“Okay, I’m gonna head out, I’m feelin’ kinda tired,” you tell him with a small smile. “Just wanted to say bye.”

“Let me walk you home,” he says instead, and your brain yells at you no!

“No, it’s fine, Kei -”

“Please. I want to.”

He’s never said that before, and a part of you knows you wouldn’t be able to say no to him even if he hadn’t, so you nod and let him follow you out of the hotel and to your apartment. The walk is silent and it makes you feel uneasy but you can’t really do anything about it, not with what you’re trying to do, so nothing happens until you reach your apartment.

You know where this is going, even if you don’t want to, so you take a deep breath, hold the door open for him so Keigo can come inside. He looks at you weirdly for a moment but then enters your apartment, standing in the junction of your entryway and living room like he’s uncomfortable. You let him, then walk to the kitchen for something to drink.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Keigo scoffs. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

You know he noticed - it’s impossible not to, but you didn’t think… you didn’t think he’d call you out on it. Your pause is evident, but you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“Yeah? Wanna rethink that, sweetheart?”

The almost-malice in his tone when he says your usual pet name startles you, and when you look up at Keigo it seems like it startled him, too, doe-eyed and looking at you. You shake your head, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room behind him to throw your things down, try to pass the message to him that this is not good. “You’re wrong,” you say.

“I’m not - I’m not wrong, Y/N,” he says, turning around to look at you. “Every time I see you it seems like you’re pushing me away, like you’re not here, and I don’t know if I did something, but I -” he pauses, runs a gloved hand over his face and you want to tell him that it’s not his fault, but that would lead to you telling him everything, and you can’t. “I miss you.”

His voice is broken. When you speak again, your voice sounds like his, but somehow worse. Smaller. “You’re wrong,” you insist. You know he’s not.

“I’m not,” he pushes back. “I’d like to think that in the months we’ve been -”

He stops himself, and you take your opportunity. “That we’ve been what? Dating? We’re not dating, Keigo, we both signed a fucking contract to benefit your public image! This is nothing!”

You have no idea what you’re doing. It’s not nothing. It will never be nothing.

“You think this is nothing?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you know for sure we’ll still be friends when this is over.”

He can’t, and he won’t. You’re trying really hard not to cry, but it hurts to fight with him like this, and it hurts that you think you’re falling in love with him, and it hurts that if you tell him it’ll ruin everything and it hurts, so a few tears slip out anyways.

“Y/N,” Keigo says, and his voice is so soft. You want to melt into him, but you shy away when he reaches for you. “Please just tell me -”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choke out. “I can’t - I’m - I’m calling it. I’ll send my lawyer if you need anything but I just…”

You can’t even look at him. Has he always been so far away?

“Get out, Keigo.”

It sounds so cold, so unfamiliar, coming from your mouth and you half expect another person to have said it entirely. This isn’t you, this isn’t how you and Keigo act, this isn’t… this isn’t it. There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for something, but then you hear him sigh - practically feel him deflate, and then he walks out of your apartment, door shutting quietly behind him.

It’s so quiet when he’s gone.

You take a deep breath, walk back to your bedroom, curl into yourself on the bed, and cry in the blue light of the sky left behind by the sun.

One Day - Part 2

A/N: I was so happy with this I couldn’t wait to post it! I have a few things to say before we start: 

First, thanks for your love and support <3 Every little heart makes me happy. 

Second, and this one is very important, in this series (like Emma, in the movie), the reader is a writer. Now, I can’t write poetry for my life, so I decided to use my writing as a platform for other female poets. Today, my writing features “Hope Is The Thing With Feathers” by Emily Dickinson and “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou. 

Third, not so fun...for some reason my writing has been disappearing from the tags. Anyone has any idea why does it happen? It makes me very sad :(

But enough of me. Let’s do this! 

Details: 

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) 

Word count: 1548 

Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist 

3 May, 1999 

After a tortuous year of legal ventures, media scrutiny, tears and more than one headache, the Malfoy family had finally been cleared for good. At first, everyone in charge had intended to use the Malfoy case to set a precedent and appease the grieving wizarding community. They thought it wouldn’t be hard, given that the Malfoys had a lot to be held accountable for. (Y/N) had worked hard all year long. She convinced her friends – namely Harry – to testify. She swayed the jury in their favour and campaigned for a fair trial. She would always volunteer to gather evidence so she was completely sure that nobody was trying to temper with it. It had paid off spectacularly.

By the time Draco had to walk into the ministry for the final verdict, he had already given up. He knew from the get go that they were set up to lose; most people wanted to see him behind bars. Draco only feared for his parents, especially his beautiful mother. This last year he had been haunted by the image of Narcissa Malfoy in Azkaban: hair grey and unruly, teeth yellow, cheekbones sunken, gaze unfocused. He imagined her driven to insanity, a maniacal laugh erupting from her throat. That vision alone was enough to break him.

As he sat in the middle of the room, flanked by his parents, he thought about (Y/N)’s letters. He had spent most of the year under house arrest and she had gone back to retake her Seventh year at Hogwarts, so they could only glance at each other during his court hearings. Their correspondence, however, was a source of comfort for both of them. It had been a bit awkward at first, but (Y/N) would send him masterfully written poems and short stories that took his mind off of the mess his life had turned into. Soon enough, they started confiding in each other. Through letters, they became the best of friends. Her words were his solace, so it didn’t come as a surprise when his mind lingered on the first few verses of the last poem she had written to him:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself, made his way to the judge’s desk. As he sat down, regal and solemn, the chitchat that surrounded them stopped completely. Draco tried to act calm and collected; he was, after all, a condemned man. To everyone, though, it was evident that something was consuming the blond Slytherin.

That perches in the soul –

The Minister unrolled the parchment that would dictate the Malfoys’ fate. Draco’s gaze frantically searched for (Y/N). She was sitting on the right, sandwiched in between Hermione and Harry. Her hand was grabbing onto Harry’s arm for reassurance. When their eyes met, (Y/N) offered him an encouraging smile. He returned a half smile that was unable to conceal his nerves.

And sings the tune without the words –

Draco tried really hard to concentrate on what Kingsley said, but his mind was jumbled with so many things he couldn’t process all at once. Every bit of sound around him was tuned out, only to be replaced with a deafening noise inside his head. Something dark was pressing his chest, crawling up his throat, filling his head with smoke. He wanted to scream. Draco felt dizzy all of a sudden. He was trying really hard not to make a scene, to keep his breathing steady. It was as if he was pushed all the way back to his Sixth year.

And never stops - at all –

The courtroom blew up in an uproar. He was engulfed in a hug by his mother. As she cried on his shoulder, the smoke in his brain dissipated. He heard the clicking of cameras, the insults and dissatisfied remarks. He heard the applauses, the sighs of relief. It took him a minute to understand what was going on. Still in the embrace, his eyes met with (Y/N)’s. She was staring at him almost adoringly, her head slightly tilted to the side and a pleased smile on her face.

“I told you”, she mouthed.

Draco was still too bewildered to even think of a response, but he smiled back to her. This time it was a whole and genuine smile that took her back to their encounter last year.

                                                           ....

The original plan was to go out and celebrate in muggle London. (Y/N) would go back to Hogwarts the next day, but she wanted to be with Draco tonight. She spent a while deciding what to wear. The rustling of fabrics took her back to the night of the Yule Ball. She smiled softly, thinking how she was ten times more excited now. (Y/N) finally settled on a black fitted dress, a leather jacket and ankle boots. She was about to sit in front of her vanity to put her make up on when Draco appeared in the middle of her room.

It surprised her so much she almost fell from her seat. Draco didn’t look like he was ready to go anywhere. He looked unkempt and tired. He gave her a sorrowful look, which forced her to bolt up from her seat and take him in her arms. Draco collapsed immediately. Sobs ripped off his chest one after the other.

“I-I just…I can’t…”

“It’s okay, Draco,” she offered softly.

“I need your company,” he managed to say.

Draco felt pathetic, but he couldn’t deny being in her arms made things a million times better. He had been cleared by the law, she had saved him. But not even his wondrous cuddle partner could save him from himself, from his self-hatred and the guilt and shame. She couldn’t save him from staring at his left forearm until he felt it burned.

Draco let the tears roll freely, wash away the horrible things inside him. (Y/N) felt her own eyes stinging, but only until their limbs were once again tangled (this time in a sofa by the fireplace) did she let herself weep ever so slightly. Their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. Draco’s head rested just above (Y/N)’s breast. He could hear the beating of her heart, which comforted him in more ways than he thought possible. Their legs stretched together and her arms enveloped him. She brought one of her hands to his hair and let her fingertips massage his scalp. Draco bawled until he felt he had no tears left. (Y/N) was so soft and gentle with him that he basked in her caresses.

As she pressed a kiss to his forehead, Draco was invaded with the sense that he didn’t deserve her. He blurted it out loud; with her he had no need to restrain his thoughts. (Y/N) hugged him tighter. She took his left arm and uncovered the mark that marred his milky skin. Draco lifted himself up just enough to search her face. He was expecting to see fear and disgust, but there was none of that. All he saw was the same understanding, same warmth she always seemed to have for him.

As she saw the mark, (Y/N) was, of course, pained. Everything the mark represented had taken away her childhood and adolescence. It was the reason why she had scars and she cried herself to sleep. It was why she was mourning some of her friends and family. She didn’t blame it on Draco, though. He had no choice and he was possibly as broken and scared as she was. She wanted to give him love and support. And so, she surprised even herself when she brought his forearm to her lips and kissed the mark of doom. Draco’s vision got blurry again. He pressed his ear to her heart and hugged (Y/N) as tightly as he could. She returned his embrace fiercely.

“I don’t deserve you, (Y/N/N)” he repeated, his voice muffled.

“It’s not a matter of deserving or not, Dray. And even if it was, you deserve as much love and care as anyone else,” she reminded him.

He sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Merlin, I’m so lucky to have you,” he answered.

“As I am to have you,” he could hear the smile in her voice.

They remained silent, an air of contentment engulfing them both.

“Is this how it’s going to work?” he asked, adopting a playful tone.

“What is?”

“Are we going to like…meet once a year to cuddle and cry?”

Draco felt pleased with himself as her chest vibrated with laughter.

“I hope not,” she answered sincerely.

“Me neither, (Y/N/N).”

They went back to their pleasant silence. The crackling of the fire in front of them soothed them both.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice small.

“Hmh?”

“Could…could you read one of your poems to me?”

She smiled softly, her hand still buried in his hair. (Y/N) thought for a second before speaking.

“You may write me down in history,” her voice was soft and tender and to Draco it had a lulling effect.

“With your bitter, twisted lies,”

“You may trod me in the very dirt”

Draco started dozing off. He couldn’t recall the last time he welcomed sleep. He closed his eyes. Somewhere in his dreams, (Y/N)’s last few words resounded:

“But still, like dust, I'll rise”.

Tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook

Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Chapter 4 - Secret Girls' Night-out

T/N: Hi y’all, it’s me again, it took a bit longer because I did my best to beta-as much as I could, but if it’s still wonky, I apologize, it's not like I get paid to do it lol also it's rather challenging when I had to convert my brain waves from Japanese to English to my native language and however those combinations work just to spew all of these out in sufficiently passable English. So I hope you all don't mind stuff like typos or inconsistencies with the tenses srsly even the original text has that and I just literally gave up evening out the tenses, like really apparently it's no biggie to have an entire paragraph in Japanese that both has past and present tenses (they mostly don't have future tenses) but if that happened in English some would just nitpick that shit out. I mean, yeah, for sure when I do editing and get paid for it I would, but if I'm just reading fanfics from writers who don't have English as their native language I just don't give a hoot, as long as the story's good, to heck with grammar, spelling and syntax. Srsly some non-native EN speakers get turned-off or even scared when nitpickers hit on their imperfect spellings or grammar or dictions, srsly honestly just give them a break, they worked hard to learn another language. I felt this even more so when I started learning Nihongo, like srsly as long as a person gets to say what they want to say even if it's not perfect in anyway, then that's more than enough for me.  srsly I am forgiving like that. Also this chapter has more notes than usual, especially regarding Nihongo and stuff, so if you don't like it you can always move along lololol Also I gave up, I'm keeping the titles and roles in Japanese i.e. Odanna-sama, Wakadanna-sama, Bantou-san, etc. I'll just stick in more notes instead lol

Also if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff. OK, with all of that out of the way, here's Chapter 4 now. P116 "Th... These are... The Southern Lands' cultured Japanese amberjack**... A bundle of Kiseki beef.. And there are so many other local products from the Southern Lands too. Ah, there's even the coconut oil that I always wanted!" So many extravagant ingredients have been hauled into Yugao, and I was flabbergasted by them all. There were also so many cans of various contents as well as dried fish and other products stuffed inside. Canned tuna and other canned stuff were considered as high-end products in Kakuriyo, and I am very grateful. Ginji-san and the Daruma gang from the kitchens delivered a box packed with so many ingredients to Yugao, and we had no idea why. "Well, the Dog said that these are their repayment to our kindness. It's because a while ago, Ranmaru came to Tenjin-ya." "Really, Ranmaru from Orio-ya?" "Hatori-san also came too, with him." In some way, Ginji-san's mood was good. For a while now, his nine fluffy tails were wagging from left to right. "It's from our head accountant Byakuya-san, Aoi-san's rewards for your achievement, and for Tenjin-ya's cooperative business venture and all sorts of other demands that were deemed justifiable, and because they wanted to give other things as a way of expressing their gratitude, they brought in many other souvenirs and products as well. They also exchanged with us various other information." T/N: This is related to tuna fish, but don't ask me how they cultured it. Probably in the open sea, like in sea cages. Yes, that's a thing, and yeah I was also in the fishing industry at some point in time, if you're wondering. Also if you're wondering why I rarely use "you" in the dialogues of the translations, it's because in polite Japanese conversations, instead of saying ANATA or OMAE= you, one's name is mentioned instead. In the original text, when people are talking to each other, rather than say "you" they say the other person's name or occupation + san instead i.e. bengoshi-san= lawyer san, Ginji-san, or if it's a username because they don't like using their true names- USERNAME-san. Because using "you" in any way, shape or form in conversations is deemed rude AF. So the next time you chat with Japanese people, please remember to address them by their name, or occupation, unless you've established rapport with them. I forgot to put this explanation in my earlier posts, but it's one of the most important stuff I learned in my Japanese classes, the Japanese folk won't care so much on grammar but more on being polite and taking care of remembering social status stratification aka just be polite by using polite terms. I actually experienced this first hand after chatting with some of them, they just told me not to use Google translate and just chat with them with whatever I know. They're very grateful when people could talk to them in their native tongue, especially when the honorifics are used. This note's long AF but I did say that I'm gonna drag you all with me in this whole learning Nihongo thing, and I'm doing just that. P117 "That friendly Ranmaru did that? Doesn't he hate Tenjin-ya?" "Hee hee. Well, don't take this too seriously, OK?" Even though saying it that way, I imagined that Ranmaru's horrible words and demeanour were probably due to his circumstances. Orio-ya sees Tenjin-ya as its rival, it's hard to imagine them having an image of humbly bringing over souvenirs. And the business dealings, I wonder what those are...? "Oh that, Ranmaru saw that you had a strong sense of duty. He wanted to particularly express his gratitude to Aoi-san." And thereupon, these ingredients from the Southern Lands. Stuff I rarely get hold of, especially something like that one round amberjack, and I unconsciously grinned. "Even so, if the circumstances allowed, he would have stopped by and said it himself** ..." "It was before Aoi-san's business hours, and Ranmaru is also busy it seems, so he had to go back immediately. Even I wanted to take our time since I thought it was fine, but it can't be helped... Because Ranmaru is the Southern Lands' Hachiyo." "Ha ha. Then what happens next is that if it's possible, Ginji-san will go to Orio-ya, won't he? Nothing's stopping you two from visiting each other now?" "Aoi-san...." Up until recently, Ginji-san and Ranmaru's long sibling feud previously ended sometime ago, and the long-standing so-called inn rivalry and clash between Orio-ya and Tenjin-ya has been cut. T/N: aisatsu=挨拶=greeting, introducing one's self, improving relations by dropping by every now and then, can also mean like popping up to say hi or whatnot. I don't know how to directly translate it since aisatsu has more of a sense of how a supervisor pops up in the work place or a teacher suddenly appears in a class just to check, it's not as informal as a neighbor dropping by the house just to have idle chitchat. Hweh. P118 But after the ceremony, the changed relationship between the two has been noticeable. "Oh, that, I see. Someday soon, I will take a break and go visit him too." "Yeah, I agree, that's great. Oh, I wonder if everyone's doing well... Hatori-san and Tokihiko-san, Hideyoshi and Nene, the cute twin chefs.. And Nobunaga." "It seems that everyone's doing fine. The twins Kai-san and Mei-san, Orio-ya profoundly realized that they're really suited to be chefs, and everyone seems to cheer them on, Hatori-san was still the same as ever, but sometimes he returns to Shumonzan. He says that he bickers with Matsuba-sama as always, but one way or another they've become in good terms with each other." Ginji-san asked Ranmaru, and he told things about Orio-ya's management staff. I see, everyone in each of their own way have been doing their best to move on forward. "Oh, and somehow Hideyoshi-san and Nene-san seems to have been engaged." "Whaaat? Why that fast?" Wait a minute. Hideyoshi knew that Nene-chan has decided, that she likes Ranmaru, wasn't it? But that's what Hideyoshi said... My astonished face must have looked funny, and Ginji-san turned away his face and giggled. "It's surely shocking, isn't it? Why, it's amazing, Hideyoshi was especially honest and manly. P119 I simply cannot..." Ginji-san let out a tiny laugh again. What is it about his old haunting grounds, being delighted at the many changes in Orio-ya? At any rate, I was surprised with Hideyoshi and Nene's engagement. Firstly, congratulations Hideyoshi. You thought that your unrequited love has been going on for so long, it was outside your thoughts early on, but now your love bore its fruit. I'm glad, as I'm rooting for you on from the sides. What the heck, behind my back, how did they get involved in that, that was surprisingly an unusual story, if I meet Nene this time I need to get information from her. "But the when the trustworthy Waka-danna** and Waka-Okami** get married, Orio-ya will surely become peaceful, and Ranmaru will also be pleased. Certainly after the marriage, their organization will grow even stronger. He'll get exhausted if it's just Ranmaru holding everything together." "Isn't Tenjin-ya also reasonably solid?" "I guess, although the position for Waka-Okami easily changes. Originally the person in that position is supposed to only resign once, but right now Kikuno-san has temporarily retired as the Young Mistress and supposed to come back. However, there have been circumstances in her family, and she immediately relinquished her seat as the Waka-Okami." "Ehh, like that?" After showing my disbelief, Ginji-san sadly nodded.

T/N: Waka-danna=young master, Waka-Okami=young mistress P120 "If it comes to that, when a new Waka-Okami doesn't hold the position for very long, we can say that there's a gifted person in Tenjin-ya, and it's only a little issue.** Likewise, during that matter with Orio-ya, we in the management staff really wanted the former Waka-Okami O-ryo san to come back and give it another go. Her abilities are very outstanding." "Even I too... I was shocked to see O-ryo completely doing her job well. Even Nene, one way or another admires her so much." "Yes, I agree. But, oh well... O-ryo-san returning to her former position, it's already a huge chance and a necessity. Right now she's drifting away from supporting her fellow waiters and waitresses, well, O-ryo-san must be intending to. To me, she seems to be enjoying having lesser responsibilities and more carefree in her current position." "Well, that's for sure..." Based on how Ginji-san talked about it, lately it seems that O-ryo has no obsession on the position of Waka-Okami. A little bit until recently, she seems, to have returned the bearing of her Waka-Okami decorum, but lately she's wholly just wanting to eat and eat, when she finally gets some free time she goes to Yugao, and lately has been persisting on going out hunting for marriage partners. However, I could say with confidence that she seems to be taking advantage of being relieved of her position as a Waka-Okami , and surely Tenjin-ya will realize that they need O-ryo's abilities. O-ryo's strength, is diligently doing her duties in that position. "Anyway, Aoi-san. I was preparing and building up the Autumn Festival here in Tenjin-ya at the end of this month, and I was thinking of using pumpkins, is it possible for Yugao to make Autumn foods and sweets for us?" T/N: Honestly double-triple negatives are a pain in the ass, srsly it's like inception to the nth power, I had trouble deciphering this line and almost this entire page in the original text so if it doesn't make sense, meh, I did my best within my current abilities. P121 "Pumpkin? Of course. It's gonna be fun, like Halloween." "Oh, right! There's a foreign festival called Halloween in Utsushiyo, but I thought it's impossible to recreate that here in in Kakuriyo, though I could imagine it to be made into a Pumpkin Festival." "Oh, not at all, we can make that same Halloween theme here because Tenjin-ya is mostly full of Ayakashi." A Japanese Halloween that doesn't use costumes... "But certainly, this year's pumpkins are delicious, so Pumpkin Festival sounds good, doesn't it? It's also a great idea to give out candies to our young guests." "We can probably decorate with paper lanterns and pumpkins too. We can place ogre-fire inside, and make them float all around Tenjin-ya." "Wow! That's very much like Utsushiyo's Halloween!" Why, the Autumn Festival goes well with the Pumpkin Event and our imaginations ran wild. "Also, Aoi-san. Pumpkins are not Odanna-sama's favorite." "..." Abruptly, the topic on Odanna-sama popped up, and I stiffened a bit. Some days ago, we came back from the orchard park date. I remembered being hugged in the airship's deck...** "How are you feeling, Aoi-san? Why is your face all red?" T/N: **insert lenny face here** You can't stop me wahahaha P122 "Hm? Oh, it's nothing, this is nothing. Odanna-sama not liking pumpkins, I wonder if I somehow  asked that before..." "Oh, right. I saw that Odanna-sama often puts a lot of his boiled pumpkins in Byakuya-san's small bowl." "...really, isn't Odanna-sama unbelievable?" "Yes, he is. I don't know when Byakuya-san patience will end, but I want Odanna-sama to overcome his distaste for pumpkins." "You're right. His pickiness for food would not end... In this event I will feed Odanna-sama with the pumpkin cuisines I wanted him to try..." I haven't yet known what Odanna-sama likes, but I know what food he doesn't like. It wasn't at all regretable to make fun of Odanna-sama, but this time I got surprised. "Aoi-sama-- Manjuu-steaming has been finished!" Ai-chan's face suddenly popped out of the kitchen. She seemed to have established her affairs in Hyakumeyama, and she has changed her appearance to that which she made herself. Her time before returning to the pendant is still short, but she's working hard right now as a newly-hired employee. "You were steaming manjuu**? I thought I was smelling something good." "Yeah. Just a while ago Dr. Saraku was asked by Tenjin-ya to do some manufacturing trials for a new souvenir product.** T/N:  Steamed bread with bean jam filling. They’re really good, try them when you can!

when I write souvenir product, it's translated from omiyage=お土産= something that you take home for your friends or family when you go have fun somewhere like a national park or a museum or amusement park. Like when you buy takeaways -  T-shirts, food, keychains, etc. and bring them home or something. Is there an English equivalent for this? Because I don't know. In my native language we have an equivalent, well, for most Asian languages I guess. Don't know about others though.. Hm.... korewa....*inhales* O_O

P123 "We're still only in the middle of improving it, but once we're done we want Ginji-san to be the very first to try them out." "Wah, that sounds fun. When Byakuya-san saw the special products from Orio-ya, he also also saw the need for Tenjin-ya to make new specialties and other famous products, and he's going to be considerably sensitive about it." "Uhm.... But we have no confidence to meet that expectation..." If we couldn't get to sell all of the products that we made, what will we do if Tenjin-ya gets struck greatly by that? What will we do if Tenjin-ya's status and popularity crashes down? With regards to that, we had to think very hard. For Yugao as a small establishment it is a challenge, and the pressure feels a bit different. "It's alright. With regards to hit products, through time and through fads, luck always has a greater control. To me, the only thing needed by Dr. Saraku are failures no matter how many times, in his division. That is why it is important to fail when tackling new challenges." ".. Ginji-san..." "Because I think, we become stronger, don't we?" Ginji-san's relieving smile is so bright, even today it's promising. Having his support, for today as well, I will work harder for Yugao's business operations. P124 The next day, around noon. Tomorrow Tenjin-ya will be closed for a break. Since today Tenjin-ya's business operations will end and all shall check out at the same time, everyone's waiting to be free of work. Today, Yugao also has no business transactions, so tonight I was making up my mind to call all of the ladies to make hotpot. I was thinking of calling out all about to all the members who could attend, I only need to walk to the inner garden. "Oh, it's Kasuga." I noticed Kasuga first. On the other side of the log bridge, she was under the ginko tree. I was about to call out "Hey Kasuga--" but she seems to be talking to someone and I stopped. Behind the base of the ginko tree whose yellow leaves were slightly changing color, what the... Kasuga is usually cheerful but her face now weirdly has this blank expression. "Isn't that..." Beside her, it was Chiaki-san, the doorman in charge of the footwear. A Bake-Tanuki like Kasuga. Normally he doesn't get involved with her much deeply, but this time their dialogues seem to be at a crossroads. I thought that the young man was humble and modest, somehow trying his best to look cool, but somehow he is speaking to Kasuga with a harsh expression, the atmosphere doesn't seem good in there, the impression is very different from the usual funny and light. What is up with those two. These two were different from how I knew them. "Oh, Aoi-chan." P125 From far away, Kasuga noticed me, her Tanuki ears popped up, and rushed towards me. "Aoi-chan, are you going to the main building?" "Ehhhrm, yeah. That was weird, seeing the two of you." "You think so? Chiaki is my relative you know. We were just talking." "Oh, I see..." I don't understand but, I wonder what's normal for those two. "Speaking of, Kasuga, tonight, uhm, won't you come to Yugao after work?" "To Yugao? To make me eat food?" "Yeah. I was thinking of actually holding a ladies-only hotpot banquet. I'll set up the kotatsu, and there's also mountain apple liquor. Let's have a girls' night-out once in a while." "Girls night-out..." Kasuga said "That sounds so much fun" with a wicked Tanuki face. I wonder if she's recalling amusing stories she got out of everyone. "I was thinking of calling O-ryo and Shizuna-chan too. I'm going out to meet them now." "If you say so, I'll go tell them. I'm roommates with Shizuna-chan, and I'm assigned to the banquet hall with O-ryo sama." P126 "Oh, is it OK to ask? Sorry about that." "It's fine, it's like the usual running of errands." Smiling like a beast, Kasuga nimbly dashed away. Under the deep autumn air that feels cold, her fluffy Tanuki tail swings left to right. "..." Looking back at the ginko tree, Chiaki-san the chief doorman wasn't there anymore. I wonder what the two talked about. He seemed to have casually listened to the girls night-out plan. The strong mountain apple liquor, lend me your strength... "Aoi-dono" "Wah, Sasuke-kun!" Without warning, Sasuke-kun the O-niwaban fell down beside me. He has a long scarf hanging down his neck, ninja-style from sunrise to sunset. Normally, during the day he usually wears a monk's robe as he sweeps the garden. "What's up? Something happened during work?" "I am patrolling around. Lately, there has been some disturbances." "Well, tomorrow the inn will have its break, it must be difficult. Are you hungry?" "Ah, my stomach is..." P127 Grrrrrmmmmm. Sasuke-kun's hungry stomach made some noise. "My stomach is probably hungry..." "Hee hee. When your duties are done, while on break come to Yugao. We received a lot from Orio-ya, blessings from the sea. The Southern Lands were also grateful to Sasuke-kun, would you want anything?" "Is that true?" Sasuke-kun always had a cool expression, but when it comes to food his eyes sparkle with joy, like  a child's. Realizing that he's let out his enthusiasm, he cleared his throat and hid his mouth with the scarf while saying "Well then, until later," and he disappeared into the wind. Sasuke-kun is just as always very earnest, it's adorable. "Nevertheless, some disturbance..." I heard about that by accident, recently. The disturbance, it's shady, things don't look good, among other things. I was working and doing my best in Yugao, and whatever lurks up in my surroundings I don't notice anything at all. But, at the moment I don't know about  the things that have started happening, and I got more anxious and worried. P128 Today is a secret girls; night-out, no guys allowed. It's going to happen after Yugao's working hours, a hotpot party will be opened for the ladies of Tenjin-ya. Today it's not at Yugao, the venue will be at my room at the back, and I will bring out the kotatsu. Tonight's dinner will be amberjack shabu-shabu. We'll make a light konbu/kelp dashi amberjack shabu-shabu from the many seafoods from Orio-ya. "We'll use the top shelf kelp to make the konbu dashi for the seafoods of the Southern Lands. It's a hotpot filled with crunchy mustard greens and thinly-sliced daikon, Welsh onions and enoki mushrooms, I'm going to fill it with amberjack as much as I want." "OK--- Let's eat!" Despite it being after work, the ladies' eyes will get fired up. I wonder if that's the case when they get hungry after working hours. I immediately placed in the fatty slices of amberjack in the hotpot's boiled  konbu dashi, and let it cook. I will add in here some ponzu for that single tingly flavor.** "Ahhh, what is this luxury. It's been a while since I had amberjack shabu-shabu..." "O-ryo sama, eat the vegetables too. Adding the thinly-sliced daikon makes this a shabu-shabu." "Alright, I get it..." O-ryo just ate only the amberjack, and Kasuga sneakily added in the vegetables. She also placed some of the boiled enoki, and placed a lot of the dashi along with the fish slices, placing all of these together she took a bite. T/N: Sour-tasting soups are best with fatty meats and fish, so I'd get that Aoi would do this to cut the fat and make the shabu-shabu taste even better and also to cut the fat and greasy feels. P129 The two closed their eyes in contentment. Certainly, when the raw amberjack was cooked over a flame, the entire flavor of the fish changes. Instantly the soft slices of amberjack became tough, and over that ponzu was added,  this was entirely different when eaten as sashimi or with pickles, it can be an enjoyable, extravagant yet healthy food. Well, not really, it's just the season to eat hotpot deliciously. "Speaking of, what time is Shizuna-chan coming?" "The bath hours haven't ended yet, I think she'll come over after fixing and cleaning up the bath houses. She's the only one from the management staff, and she has to stay in her working area up until the end of business hours." "Oh, yeah. I see. Shizuna-chan is part of the management staff." I lightly glanced at O-ryo. O-ryo was a former management staff member, but she seems to be unaffected by my words. It seems that the person in question enjoys whatever working position she's in right now, and is drinking carbonated water as well as the mountain apple liquors equally. Somewhat it's like being that annoying single office-lady... "Perhaps I should say it- did you know? Orio-ya's Nene is married to their Waka-danna?" "No, aren't they just engaged? It seems like that for the time being, before getting married?" P130 Uhm, Kasuga and I looked at each other. But O-ryo wasn't listening. "Hmmph. That young girl, she'll be suffering so much marrying so young. That Waka-danna called Hideyoshi, that tiny squirt, he'll noisily scold her." "You think so? I've seen that Hideyoshi, he seems good enough. Well, he is pretty noisy. But he seems to like Nene very much, I think it's wonderful that he got his feelings through." I feel like an aunty who's earnestly chatting away about her relatives. If I could talk about it better, those two make a cute, tiny couple. "Gah! Enough chatting about a guy's love for some girl! I am not interested in the happiness of other people!" With a thud, O-ryo slapped her empty wine glass on the kotatsu. "Ahhhh, O-ryo sama don't start complaing about envying other people..." As always, Kasuga started telling her off with her "good grief!" pose. "I'm sorry I'm late--" A breath of fresh air, Shizuna-chan has joined the party.** Shizuna-chan takes care of the bath houses and bears the task of keeping them in order, and is Tenjin-ya's sole management staff for that purpose. "Shizuna, you're late! The battle has already started!" T/N: well the transliteration of the original text was "Shizuna-chan has arrived in the battlefield", but I think this has the same feel, from RPGs honestly IDK anymore lol anyways IMO food parties are always a battlefield so wth it's the same gahaha P131 "Ah, yes--? I'm sorry, ehhh, a battle?" After that, even if O-ryo was just a waitress who glared at her instantly, Shizuna-chan humbly apologized. It seemed that she had no idea what O-ryo meant with her words of choice. Shizuna-chan brought a box for us, filled with so many delicious sweets.This seemed delicious to eat as dessert. "Shizuna-chan, come sit beside me. Say, do you like amberjack shabu-shabu?" Shizuna-chan rarely visits here. I did my best to take care of whatever she needs. "Well, it has been a while since I had some amberjack shabu-shabu, how nostalgic..." "Oh, right. When you were young, you were a staff at Orio-ya. During that time, did you ate a lot?" "Yes, it was my favorite. Shishou-sama** made a lot of it for me..." Talking while bashfully fidgeting, Shizuna-chan started to eat with a lot of etiquette. Suddenly, O-ryo started looking at Shizuna-chan like a sister-in-law. "I say, uhm, Shizuna? There's someone in Orio-ya like you, who's also nice and has good vibes?" "Yes? A person with good vibes?" "Hey, weren't you explicitly pursued here in Tenjin-ya? Who was it.... That guy who looks withered up, called Tokihiko. You like someone who looks bitter and glum, don't you? It's illogical and unadult-like. Don't think that somehow you're under the shadow of that guy.. *hic*" T/N: I don't know how to call the main artist or the one who takes in a lot of disciples or students or apprentices so this is the next best thing, I guess? I mean, it’s directly translated as Master=師匠-Shishou, but it can mean other stuff, not just like sensei though. P132 "Oh, uhm.. that.. Shishou-sama.... he is uhm..." Shizuna-chan's face started blushing, like she had some beer or whatnot. Once that conversation was started, she immediately got perplexed. "Wait a minute, O-ryo! Shizuna-chan just started eating, don't ask her such direct questions, her throat might block off the shabu-shabu." "You're loud Aoi! Shut up, what's more important than looks are the uses**, you crazed-cook!" "What the.." Whom on earth did she think this hotpot party was prepared for? When O-ryo drinks liquor, she always blurts out unapologetic things. "Haaahhh... Aoi may be crazy about cooking, but in the end, eventually she'll get married to Odanna-sama... He'll pick up an excessively-expensive palanquin for you, you won't understand how miserable I am..." "What the heck are you saying... I'm doing my best to avoid being his fiancee." "But Aoi-chan, didn't you and Odanna-sama went out, and you were away for more than a night?" "Hold up, Kasuga, it's a weird, story, it can't be helped. We were captured by the mountain's Kaku-zaru." "Ah, but.. Odanna-sama pulled you out of a pinch, didn't that made you have a change of heart? Or some progress?"

T/N: hanayoridango=function before looks, like buying food first before buying flowers, yeah that’s the literal meaning of the phrase. P133 "...what?" A while ago Shizuna-chan got asked the same kind of questions. Suddenly, the  three girls gazed at me. What the, what's up with their eyes, those three? They look like hyenas having an eye on their prey. "I.. I didn't mean it that way! Uhmm... Odanna-sama just.. gives his all as he saves me..." Speaking of progress, what on earth is progressing right now? My first-hand experiences weren't much, and even using those as my basis, I still don't understand. In the end, somehow despite never having an idea on what occurred, the warmth I felt when I was hugged just abruptly pops back again into my mind, and ultimately my face remains blushing, as I chattered and gritted my teeth in silence. I really don't understand this, I wonder... what is this feeling? "What the heck is that..?" "Yeah, what gives? It's weird, Aoi-chan's face is so red, why is that?" I could hear Kasuga and Shizuna-chan somewhat breaking the silence with their hushed conversations. "OK--- that's enough talking about sweethearts and whatnot--  That's every last one of them--" "Yeah, I heard you, I heard you!" O-ryo had enough of the topic already, and she rolled down into the kotatsu with an angry and dead-drunk expression. She probably got one-punched...** T/N: Yeah I feel you O-ryo, when everyone has some special someone and you're the lonely third wheel I mean, I can't blame you girl, I really can't. It's worse than getting one-punched by Saitama, but... Still lol tho sry my bad P134 "O-ryo sama, with that middle-aged man attitude such as yours, you'll miss your chances of getting married." "Kasuga? With the romance that a little girl-chama like you would know, wouldn't have an idea on what love is like, there's no such thing as an immediate fated encounter. Really esteemed women like me, wouldn't have to rush in choosing.There's no leeway for mistakes--" "Yeah, yeah. But regarding myself, I have a first love..." "What, that story about when you were young? Yeah, yeah, sure, that story that smells of inexperience is good enough. Kasuga, go pour me some more.." "Y-yes... Good grief..." The esteemed woman bully lied down again. And as the junior poured more liquor for her, she drank heartily, again. "But Kasuga, speaking of that, during the day, I saw you being with the Gesokuban** Chiaki-san. What on earth were you two chatting about?" "....uhm..." I suddenly remembered it, and without thinking I asked. Kasuga's facial expression slightly changed. "Reallyyyyy?! What the, Kasuga is with that Chiaki?!" Hearing that topic, O-ryo suddenly bolted upright. She kicked her legs inside the kotatsu, and Shizuna-chan let out a tiny, pained "ouch". "What is it, O-ryo?" "Chiaki may look sloppy and gaudy, but so many waitresses are eyeing on him. Not only does his face look good,

T/N: Gesokuban=下足番= doorman in charge of the footwear, normally in Japanese inns or hotels the footwear are kept outside the halls to prevent dirt from coming in. I think elsewhere in the world this is a practice, there’s a thing called indoor and outdoor slippers or shoes. P135 but being a Gesokuban, he's pretty much a member of the management staff. If he gets married, it's easy to dominate him. That's what I understand from hearing other people. Kasuga, he's also your type?" "...what are you talking about, O-ryo sama? Chiaki is my Uncle. Simply put, my father's younger brother.**" "Whaaa... Really?" Everyone got shocked. Everyone in here seemed to be unaware of that fact. Kasuga went "Uh-oh". Her face spelled out "I shouldn't have said that." "It's probably due to this liquor.. I may have said too much..." Kasuga was scratching an itch on her temple. Taking the opportunity, Shizuna-chan suddenly seemed to have remembered something. "Speaking of that... Kasuga is taking a long vacation to go back to her parents' home, and at the same time, Chiaki-san probably won't we working too, isn't it? Could it possibly be that, he's going home with you?" Somehow, a lot of suspicions and doubts started rising up, and Kasuga started clamoring and wailing. "Geez... stop it already! What I told you is already enough! More importantly, hotpot! Look, the mustard greens and onions, and the tofu had all boiled down.The umami of the vegetables and the amberjack have already dissolved into this precious konbu dashi, and it's considerably better now. Aoi-chan, how are we going to divide this?" With dexterity, Kasuga started distributing the contents of the hotpot into smaller bowls, but I was still determined to press information out of her. This girl is pushily taking charge over the hotpot... T/N: I don't know about you guys, but in some families due to the age gaps between the siblings, some of the nieces and nephews ar more closer in age to their aunts and uncles than the aunts and uncles have to the children's parents. I was actually raised by an elder cousin, and her eldest brother was around the age of my father, so yeah, I could understand how this whole thing with Kasuga goes. P136 "Ok, with this, it's definitely udon!" "Udon!" "Yeah let's do that" Shizuna-chan gratefully put her hands together, and O-ryo's sparkling eyes were on standby. Immediately, the udon balls were brought in, and these were dunked into the deliciously-filled dashi stock. After boiling it down, we only had to wait for the noodles to absorb the flavors. "By the way, you all, what do you think of the single guys in Tenjin-ya?" "Yes?" "Do you have anything funny about them to talk about?" While O-ryo poured some newly-opened liquor, she drunkenly pushed the question at me. This woman, sets herself aside and starts gossiping about Tenjin-ya's male army. "First of, let's start with Akatsuki. That guy's the youngest male in the management staff, he may have a promising future, surely being young his composure isn't yet enough, I think. Well, in desperate times I could say that he's adorable, but he's the type that holds grudges, and it's not a good thing that he easily snaps out. For certain, I think he doesn't have a girl." "It seems that O-ryo sama has a problem with the Bantou** -sama snapping out at her words and deeds, don't you?" "Shut up Kasuga--" "Owwwww" T/N:Bantou=番頭=head clerk, or the head receptionist

P137 O-ryo pulled out Kasuga's cheeks. Kasuga's cheeks stretched out so much. "Akatsuki-san's face is a bit scary, but he is a hard-working employee, in my opinion. But, well... I'm not interested in someone younger than me..." "That's right Shizuna, you have an older guy fetish don't you?" "Yeah, the guy has been living for 500 years now, yes..." Shizuna-chan just casually blurted out that she wasn't interested in Akatsuki. She's probably a bit drunk. She's drinking the mountain apple liquor on the rocks... "Akatsuki, you say... When I met him he shouted like he was going to kill me, that guy gave me the impression that he was the worst but... Now I think he's a really good chap. One way or another way though, he's not someone who likes taking care of others. I remember her younger sister.." That child** comes here to Yugao, his eyes may look evil but he's a caring person. Surely, I think that he's concerned about troubling his younger sister Suzuran and grandpa, among others. "Oh, and by the way..." At this point, Kasuga secretly pulled out a notebook and started telling us the stuff that she wrote. What the... What the heck, that is scary. "According to my research, the Bantou-sama doesn't have a woman's touch on him. He's aloof, and he easily and earnestly gets resentful. It also seems that despite the lady waitresses asking him out to have fun, he always doesn't go with them." "As expected..." T/N: the term Yuuma-sensei used for Akatsuki is mame=マメ=bean, but can also mean a child, a little person, etc. Honestly it's not wrong, Akatsuki is an actual precious bean IMO lol protect that spider bean lelz P138 "But that guy, a little girl once invited him to play with her..." Surprisingly, I thought this was a bit rude. Most likely, Akatsuki is sneezing a lot right now. "Wah, udon, udon--" Finally, the udon has been boiled enough. Everyone started putting udon on their bowls. "Gahh... This is it. The udon to finish the hotpot."** "Cooking this in the dashi makes it yummier, doesn't it?" The udon has surely absorbed the umami and the fatty flavors of the amberjack. I added the refreshing taste of the Sudachi Ponzu in mine. This went smoothly down the throat, and this perfectly wraps up the the meal. No, I mean, this is a work of art. "Hey Aoi, you only drank one glass of the liquor? You go drink some more..." "Sorry but, I dont drink more than a cup. Previously, drinking made my eyes hurt when I look at things." A cup of that liquor tastes great. But I dread getting drunk if I drink more than my limit. But everyone was just drinking heartily, so I guess it's fine. The mountain apple liquor also has another nickname, it's called "Easy Bandit-Killer". "Well then, next is the Waka-danna sama's turn" O-ryo continued the conversation where we previously left off. "Waaat? Even Ginji-san?! But.. Isn't Ginji-san perfect? No, a perfect Youkai? I couldn't find any fault with him." T/N: Just in case you're wondering how this works, it's rather easy.. After eating all of the ingredients in the Japanese hotpot, like taking out the veggies and meat, there's a lot of soup left. It's easier to just drink the soup but in Japan, they add stuff to help it go down easy. Choices are either noodles or rice, and the young ones love putting the noodles in. It actually tastes good either way, but I prefer noodles. I think in Persona 5 they also had this same dilemma lol Also yeah Ginji is just the ball, perfect ball of fur lol but he also has this shadowy and mysterious side so if you want a dude of mystery, Ginji's your man gahahaha P139 "Eh. You don't understand, Aoi. Seeing no faults or imperfections is that person's shortcoming-" An adultish smile floating up her face, O-ryo started spinning her glass around. "Waka-danna sama is, well, fanstastic. When you look at him he's handsome, he is well-mannered, and is skillful at his job." "Yeah I get that. He's very sweet, and he always lends a hand... But for sure, Ginji-san seems to have no interests in romantic relationships..." Even I haven't unraveled the reasons to why Ginji-san is still single. But I'm not surprised that he's well-liked. "Oh, well, based on what O-ryo-san was saying, Ginji-sama has no chink in his armor, doesn't he? When a little girl couldn't get any confidence from everyone and has to hold it together by herself, when that perfect Ginji-sama sees that person, his voice would probably not break so easily." "The Waka-danna sama isn't a greedy type, but look, what Aoi-chan is saying is that the Waka-danna seems to have no hobbies or interests. Aoi-chan doesn't understand how, but among the employees he seems to be the type that only admires one person. In that case, his attraction for this one girl could unfortunately end. And she won't be pursued relentlessly." Oh, I get it... Shizuna-chan and Kasuga pointed this out, and I could understand it better. "But after that thing with Orio-ya, somehow the air around the Waka-danna sama has changed, didn't it? T/N: OK I just translated from Japanese what I'd say if I was fan-girling over Ginji, srsly arrrghhh does a guy like this exist? I'd want the extra tails and the transformation powers but I'm OK without those as long as he's into romantic stuff.. Does he? Does he not? I don't know yet lol are there any Ginji fan-fams here too lololol P140 I heard it from the lady waitresses that aren't easy to talk to. That person, he has undoubtedly became likeable. And then, the Waka-danna sama, didn't he take care of you in your condition?" "..." With a wicked face, O-ryo was testing me with her words. But to me, up until now I think that Ginji-san is likeable, and in that case it's not even a joke. He hardly comes to Yugao now, and because of that it's gotten lonely... "On another point, among the Waka-danna sama's nine tails, the third one below, from the right seems to be the most unique.That is somehow a weak spot." "Kasuga, how did you know such information?" It's scary... Kasuga's information is creepy. Even though she's drunk the power of her research skills scared all of us. "Well then... Choubachou** Byakuya-sama--" "O-ryo, don't you dare take another step over there--" We suddenly exercised caution with Byakuya-san. If we speak rudely of him, we feel like we're going to get cursed.** "I honestly couldn't remember a time when he got angry..." "Me either..." "Me too..." T/N: OK so my bad, Byakuya’s supposed position ranges from accounting to reception, but I just previously translated his position as head accountant because it’s what I got before. But he’s more or less the chief of management operations, which includes accounting. Anyway... Hey, I mean, if Byakuya can kick Raijuu's ass then it's justifiable that Byakuya is always in a sour mood, and it's bad to talk about him rudely. Raijuu's a pain in the ass for sure. Arrrgh P141 In the end, this girls' group had nothing more to say. We shuddered when we remembered stuff, and inside the kotatsu we all curled up. Though we were only just talking about him, his pressure on us made us feel defeated even in here. "H.. However, Byakuya-sama stealthily spoils the pipe cats living at the back of the mountain..." "Kasuga, nobody knows about that yet. Don't talk about it, if that gets leaked out we'll get killed." Well, in short, Byakuya-sama pours all of his love to the pipe cats. "Geez, we've wrapped out heads too much on these puzzles, and my hands have lost all feeling. Like Odanna-sama, he also exists above the clouds." "That's because Byakuya-sama is Odanna-sama's good old wife." O-ryo and Kasuga opened the box that Shizuna-chan brought for us, and while munching on these they were sloppily chatting. "Good old wife?" Isn't Byakuya-san a guy? as I tilted my head. "Since long ago, he has assisted in the running of Tenjin-ya. Odanna-sama is able to go here and there freely for work, and Byakuya-sama was staying in Tenjin-ya and presides over it. He has long been in good terms with Odanna-sama, and Byakuya-sama could readily and frankly give out his opinions to him." Come to think of it, before Odanna-sama and I went out, him and Byakuya-san were talking about something one way or the other. P142 In that case, other than the other employess and executives, nobody sees it like an older wife giving encouragement to her husband. "And for sure, when the Oo-Okami** sama isn't here, Byakuya-sama also takes in that role as well, doesn't he?" "Oo-Okami?" Shizuna-chan was drinking the last drop of the sweet liquor, she was reminded of her old home and started talking. "Ougondouji-sama is currently residing in Orio-ya. Previously, Ougondouji-sama was asked to be the Oo-Okami. She holds the same position and rank as Odanna-sama, therefore ever since Ougondouji-sama left Tenjin-ya,the position has been vacant." "Oh, I see... If that's so, with regards to that old tale, I have asked Ginji-san about that." And with that, Byakuya-san also holds the position of Oo-Okami. "Haaaahhh... That weird chat about the Oo-Okami has been a bit too much already." "O-ryo sama, didn't you tell me back then that you'd focus intently on becoming Oo-Okami ,once upon a time?" "Shut up Kasuga! It's a harsh fact that I have to live with!" With O-ryo and Kasuga's conversation, my ears grew eager to listen. "But isn't that.. O-ryo already has no interest with the Waka-Okami position?" "Whaaat? Aoi, you're asking that question? Did't I tell you that I won't get into the position of Waka-Okami again?" T/N: Oo-Okami, Mistress of the House, or something, like the big lady boss.

P143 "R..Really?" "It's fine, really it is. My enthusiastic, indomitable personality is dead. I want to enjoy living a carefree life. I plan to marry a rich guy, then immediately stop working--" "..." Somehow, the atmosphere became tense. Could it be possible that, among all the people in here right now, we're all thinking that O-ryo didn't really want to give up that position? Especially Kasuga, she was shell-shocked, and her face looked troubled. I felt that the mood has changed, so I tapped my fist in my hand. "Oh, right, right. I brought some large-sized grapes from the fruit orchard park, and I made some grape tarts. Let's eat some? I added a lot of grapes on it, it's a custard cream dessert." "Kasstard? OK OK let's eat--" It seems that nobody understood what I meant, but everybody nodded their heads excitedly. Grape tart. I made the crust with the coconut oil from Orio-ya and baked it, and by adding the large grapes called Daishisui that I gathered with Odanna-sama yesterday, the tart looks like a sparkly jewelry box. On top of the crust, I laid down an easily-made custard cream made of Cassowary egg and some wheat flour, with cow's milk and a bit of sugar, P144 and these buried the grapes cut in halves, which I later baked in the oven. After baking this for a while, I topped everything with raw grapes and pure cream. These were arranged as such because the tightly-packed grapes beneath this layer cannot be seen. "Woooooow!" Those dynamic-seeing eyes, everyone's eyes were sparkling. I sliced the large tart in front of everyone, and when the neatly-arranged grapes were cut through, Shizuna-chan let out a regretful-sounding "Awww".** There wasn't any fork, we used kuromoji, special wooden chopsticks** normally used for Japanese sweets or just ate them using our bare hands. "Uwahhh this is juicy-- What is this, I thought this food has raw grapes, but this tastes is like it was meant to be a baked dessert!" "This is the first time I ate something that tastes like this, but the grapes' sweetness stands out, it's really delicious--" O-ryo eating with her hands and Shizuna-chan using a kuromoji, they fell into a trance like typical ladies who love sweets. "This is generally called a fruit tart, and with the rich taste of the eggs in the custard cream, it blends well with the sweet and sour freshness of the fruits, and together these really bring about the best-tasting combination. The sweetness gets reduced, and the sourness becomes mild." As I was explaining how the mild taste came about, Kasuga haven't taken a single bite of the grape tart, and while propping her chin with her hand, she was observing it quietly. T/N: Lol I feel you Shizuna-chan, I feel the same when a freshly-bought ice cream tub looks so neat I don't wanna cut through it lol that's why ASMR of perfectly arranged anything are famous bahaha

Kuromoji=黒文字= Japanese sweets are eaten traditionally by using tiny wooden chopsticks, to cut and skewer them. You can check them out via search engine or smth P145 "What is it, Kasuga? Don't tell me, you don't like grapes?" "Hmm? No, it's not like that.. I really love grapes. That dessert you called tart, I was thinking of something." Kasuga ate held tart like it was a hard cookie, and bit on it heartily despite doubting what it was, before chewing on it. She filled her cheeks with the grapes, the custard, and the fragrant crust. "Mmmm, I wanted to eat some more. The grapes are heavy, and they burst in my mouth." Just a while ago we were enjoying some amberjack shabu-shabu, but we still had room for dessert, and all of the girls ate as much of the grape tart to their hearts' content. "Aoi-dono--" In that moment, came a boy's voice that can be heard from inside Yugao. "It's Sasuke-kun. I told him that I was going to give him something to eat after his working hours." The three ladies around me went "It's.. Sasuke-kun?", and they looked at me from the side. "Say, Aoi, tell Sasuke-kun to come here too." "Really? Even if today's a no-guys-allowed girls' night-out, it's OK to call him in?" "Yes, it's totally OK. Sasuke-kun is an adorable and good boy." "..." Even though there was a nagging feeling, I went outside of Yugao and called out to Sasuke-kun. "Sasuke-kun, thank you for your hard work. We were just having a hotpot party inside but, P146 I'll also add something for you, OK?" "Hotpot, is it? Is it because it has already gotten a bit cold?" "Come in. Everyone's waiting for you. I'll go and prep up." "I understand." Sasuke-kun unknowingly trudged toward the innermost room, and opened the door. "?!" No sooner than opening the door. Sasuke-kun the ninja couldn't react fast enough, and he was dragged into the room. "Gyaaaaahhh! Aoi-dono, Aoi-dono---" Sasuke-kun, the innocent and sweet Sasuke-kun, he was preyed upon by the ladies starved of men. "I- I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun. I'll make you a delicious hotpot, OK?" I feel guilty that he gets harassed, and using another earthen pot I added dashi stock, vegetables and the amberjack slices, and hurriedly went towards the innermost room. Please, please let Sasuke-kun be OK! "..." Sasuke-kun was already pestered by the drunken ladies, here and there he was grumbling being urged to drink liquor, P147 his hair has been tousled and his scarf stretched out, it was horrible, but he was being coddled and spoiled. "Aoi-dono--" Poor Sasuke-kun, he was crying out of fear. He was unprotected, and the swarming girls were getting their fill, it was another shabu-shabu over the kotatsu setting. They're feeding him too much. While he's eating delicious food, I will protect Sasuke-kun.

Despite the determination of that bunch, just like turning off a lamp, the girls suddenly collapsed. 

Zzzz.... The effects of the mountain liquor came at last, and the intense sleepiness has struck. "Aoi-dono.. What on earth, were you doing here?" "Hmm? It's a secret girls' night-out, Sasuke-kun." "Secret girls' night-out..."

It's really too much to handle drunkeness. The true intents and personalities of the girls, were hidden and unseen, in this empty room these must not get out. Everything that they spewed out, they'll probably forget in the morning. And that was the so-called, girls' night-out.

End of Chapter 4, Volume 6. Previous - Intermission 1 Next - Intermission 2

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations  and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.