#and instead what came home was a DELINQUENT
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A Friend In Me: Chapter 4
Yandere Platonic Toman
Chapters 1 | 2 | 3
Masterlist
my usual pink line divide no longer works because it messes with the tags ;^; have this divider from angelfire instead
The world around Mikey came to a standstill. His ears buzzed with static, unable to process anything as his mind raced. In a sole instant, everything clicked together as if an incomplete puzzle finally being solved, and the Tokyo Manji Gang president could see the full picture, though the surprise at this revelation never made it to reflect in those abyss eyes.
It made sense now, the blond-haired boy mused, watching the other five Toman founders burst into action in slow motion around him. He understood. Why you were attracted to two fighting delinquents instead of beating a hasty retreat like everyone else when you first met them, why you never seemed bothered by them turning up with small splatters of blood on their disheveled uniforms, why you could so effectively patch up injuries. You had never divulged or discussed your home life nor your childhood with them, and he had never bothered pressing you for details. Because why would he, when all evidence pointed to you living alone and having always lived alone? Having followed you home countless times to an empty house, you were always alone at all times of the day. No laundry or carelessly strewn clothes to be found, no closed or locked room that indicated another resident in your home. Even the pictures that decorated the walls and your bedrooms have always just been you and them.
“Hey!” From behind Mikey came a shout from Mitsuya, quickly followed by the telltale sounds of a tussle between the Toman Vice President and the Second Division Captain over you in the middle. “Don’t pull like that!”
You had grown up beside a delinquent. Your older brother whom you had never cared to mention was himself a fearsome and borderline insane delinquent - they had doubetlessly heard of Madarame Shion’s brutality and his supposed involvement in underworld crimes even before their paths crossed. Of course nothing they did would surprise or scare you if this was the normal behavior you were exposed to all your life.
Abyss eyes turned to take in the expression on your face, the horror at what was happening slowly settling into your swollen eyes even as tears continued to streak down flush cheeks. Yet, all it took was the merest exposure to what was the normalcy of any delinquent’s life for you to break down - a telling-off, a by-far bloodless fight, nothing that would raise the eyebrow of a seasoned onlooker really. So how much did you really know? Did you know of their previous clash with Shion and the ninth generation of Black Dragons back when from the founding of Toman? He doubted it - your reaction to them after their fight would have been a lot stronger if you did. But most importantly, why didn’t you tell them earlier about having an older sibling?
A muffled shout from your still-connected call to your disgrace-of-a-delinquent older brother was enough to draw Mikey’s attention back to the current situation at hand, though he all but ignored whatever that goon had to say. No, you couldn’t know, he determined, because if you did, you would clearly see that they had no reason to fear a shithead like Shion. They had beaten him and his gang once already, what was a second time? But he could get the answers out of you later, once you were safe and away from this mess. For now, the Toman President mused, as time returned to its usual speed and the world exploded back into its full chaotic state, there were more important things to settle.
The mere thought of possibly losing you to this black-haired homewrecker you called Koko, or even worse, the loser of an older brother that they have already beaten to a pulp once; his heart raced. He couldn’t accept it. These weak-willed losers couldn’t be allowed to win him, especially not in a matter as important as this.
Pivoting around, your watery eyes were helplessly fixed on the brawl going down right in front of you, phone clutched in a white-knucked grip. This was all for your own good. He was just protecting you from the wider world, the Toman President tried to convince himself, his slippered feet starting its ominous route towards the brawling four, his hands tucked almost casually into the pockets of his school pants. Your eyes immediately snapping to him and your lips falling apart as you watched him move.
Not because Mikey needed your support and your attention; no, he didn’t need you as much as you needed him. He was strong, the unshakable pillar of the Tokyo Manji Gang, not soft and weak and a crybaby like you. His heart wasn’t aching at the mere thought of never being able to see you again, never having you pamper and lavish him with attention and love and filling the hole in his heart - the palpitations was from excitement, the itch to fight and drive away the enemies of his friends.
He was the Invincible Mikey, and now more than ever, he needed to make sure that everyone knew why.
Ninth Generation Black Dragon President. You heard Koko loud and clear right before the momentary tranquility went straight to hell once more, but now you could barely think amidst the cacophony. Individually, the words made sense, yet strung together, it became incoherent to your spinning mind. Too many, too much. Watching Baji once more take aim at the opposing delinquent, you staggered a step forward, your heart urging you to take action; do something, do anything. Before someone gets hurt again.
You were yanked back before you could take another step, vaguely registering Draken’s voice snapping at you but nothing registering in your mind. Fixated on the fight going on its second round, the white of Inui’s uniform, combined with his sunflower-blond hair, seemed to almost glimmer in the sunlight as it caught your eye, and the memories you had long lost to the back of your mind came surging back to the front. You had seen that uniform before, having washed and scrubbed the blood from the white fabric before Shion moved out. It’s happening. Again. Any control you felt you had left over your own life was slipping through your fingers once more; the way of your life that you had so painstakingly built, the personality you had so carefully tailored, everything was falling apart in front of your eyes. All over again.
Those stunned expressions you just saw simply couldn’t be faked, you knew instinctively, not with how all of them wore the same look on their faces. For reasons beyond you, everyone present all knew your older brother, and vice versa. They all hated each other, and you were caught right in the middle. How could you have known that the only friends you had knew of and hated each other? What more could you have done? What could you have done differently?
Maybe you should have heeded Mikey’s and the other’s warnings about Koko. Maybe if you hadn’t gone looking for that CB250T. If you hadn’t-
Every breath became heavier and heavier, faster and faster, and you struggled to fill your lungs, the air sludgy and thick. The world around you was all too much. Too loud. You couldn’t-
A fresh pair of arms enveloped you, and you were pulled into a tight hug. “Breathe.”
You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your body shuddering as the atmosphere instantly thinned out. You gulped down as much oxygen as you could, your sweating palms glistening in the light of the afternoon sun.
“Are you alright?” Mitsuya’s voice was calm, soft, those calloused hands gently running through your hair as he bodily blocked you from the fight that was occurring just a stone’s throw away.
Unable to speak, you simply nodded, wiping your fist on your shirt. I’m fine, you mouthed, though you knew that Mitusya knew it was a lie, your skin having turned several tones lighter from the lack of air. But you had other more important things to concern yourself with (at least in your view), as you attempted to look over your friend’s mob of purple hair. What had you missed?
“Relax,” the Toman founder tried to convince you, resting one hand atop your head yet not forcing you down by any means despite Draken’s annoyed ‘tch’ from behind you, where he continued to hold on to you tightly. “Let them handle it.”
Let them handle it? Giving a shaky glance you hoped was reassuring at Mitsuya, you turned your attention back to the fight, right as Kazutora broke past Inupi’s defense, his fist outstretched and jealous anger fully directed at Koko.
In a single blink, you broke free from both Draken and Mitsuya’s grip, your long strides closing the distance between you and Koko. “Tory, stop!”
The last thing Koko expected was to see you flying towards him, putting your decidedly much more fragile self between him and the Toman founder.
”Fuck- Watch out!”
An exceptionally hard yank from Koko had both you and him flying backwards, but the loud smack of a fist into the back of your head as the two of you fell towards the ground was unmistakable. His gut dropped. Damn it. Too late. Landing with an oof on the hard ground and you atop him, the infamous financier could hardly acknowledge the ache of his back, not while his thoughts were focused solely on you. “Are you alright?” What on earth were you thinking? He wasn’t exactly a delinquent but he sure as hell could take, if not dodge, a hit better than you - he just preferred standing behind others.
You winced, rubbing what should be a forming sore spot where you were hit. “I’m fine,” you assured, the momentary crinkle of your forehead as you carefully shifted tilted your head telling otherwise, though it was quick to evaporate as the realization of who cushioned your fall hit you. You scrambled to stand, but you were instantly tackled to the ground once more by a bawling Toman founder with black and yellow hair and nearly falling over again - Kazutora, if Koko remembered correctly.
”I- I-“ Barely able to speak, your own injury was forgotten as you instantly shifted to attempt to soothe the wailing boy with an undeserved gentleness. “I hit-”
”I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure. “It barely touched me.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say, your voice quickly drowned out as Kazutora only cried harder, burying his face into your shirt, fists clenching bundles of your school shirt.
Koko could only watch on as you caught his gaze, returning an apologetic one of your own as you did your best to soothe the bawling delinquent - a sight that he never thought he would witness. He did already have a good idea of what your self-proclaimed Toman friends were like, having been forewarned about how protective they were of you (some of your stories truly did raise an eyebrow or two). And sure, Inupi had whirled around at his alarmed shout with what should be an intent to help, but his attention had been forced back to the fight on hand almost instantaneously when Baji had attempted to take advantage of his momentary distraction to go in for a sweep; it's not as if his friend didn’t care at all. But expecting to have to throw hands was one thing, understandable even, given how he would be associated with Inupi and thus the Black Dragons, but this level of attachment? Were all these waterworks even real?
A set of footsteps stomping in his direction had the notorious financier look up, and straight at the Toman’s Vice Captain towering over him. But the other’s ire surprisingly wasn’t directed at him, and instead, you were bodily lifted by the front of your shirt, forcing Kazutora off of you right before you were shaken like a stuck salt shaker. “What the hell were you thinking?! That was insane!”
“I’m alright-” You barely got two words out before being cut off again.
“YOU ARE NOT OKAY,” bellowed back an uncharacteristically furious Draken, and you threw both hands up in surrender even as you continued to be shaken around like a martini. “YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT. OR KILLED!”
Kazutora only started to cry harder at his words, babbling incoherently as he tried to latch onto your legs.
At least the Toman Third Division Captain was on your side, stepping between a furious Vice Captain and you and prying you free with little effort. “You’re making it worse,” Pah said simply, echoing Mitsuya’s earlier words.
“-ey! HEY! ” The vague screams of Shion echoed out from beneath you, alerting you, Koko and everyone else to the fact that you had yet to hang up on your previous call. Fishing around beneath you where your phone had most likely fallen earlier on, your older brother’s frankly annoying shrieking was finally noticed, now that the general mayhem had died down.
And much to Koko’s annoyance, you visibly stiffened upon hearing Shion once more, like a bolt of lightning ran up your spine, and you bent over to gingerly pick up your dropped phone. He hated seeing you scared of someone as useless as Shion, a scumbag even Inupi wasn’t impressed with. If he could make your problem disappear, he would in a blink. Not that this would be right time to tell you this.
The clash of delinquents had long driven off any last soul left that tried to wander down this street, the road deserted of passerbys of any kind. Even the wind had long died down, and Koko hastily dabbed away the sweat forming along his upper lip. “Ah, nii-san-” You mumbled out under your breath, though that was most likely more to remind yourself who you were dealing with on the other end.
“FUCKING FINALLY! YOU GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!”
Deflated, you looked defeated at your older brother’s orders, your shoulders slumping over. “I-”
But Shion was not done. “AND DROP THOSE TOMAN FUCKS, UNDERSTAND?”
And that was apparently where the former Black Dragon President crossed the line. In a blink, your phone disappeared from your grip as if by magic. You barely had time to react, the small, outdated electronic now clutched tightly in Mikey’s white-knuckled grip, a speed that took even Koko by surprise. When did he get that? Where did he even come from?
“I’ll kill you,” the threat from the Toman President was loud and clear, the sheer rage burning behind those empty eyes enough to have even Koko recoil. “You try anything funny, and I’ll kill you, right here, right now.”
A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”
It was a loud crack, followed by a small fizzle, an unremarkable show that marked the untimely end to your device as Mikey crushed the phone underfoot without an afterthought. Your jaw dropped. Koko estimated you must have lost the equivalent of several months of work in one inconsiderate move.
Not that the Toman lowlives you called friends knew, of course, seemingly failing to notice you staring on speechlessly as Baji proceeded to grind the heel of his foot into the electronic device, spitting curses probably meant for your brother. You no doubt knew full-well by now that they were pissed to hell and back, both at Shion and at him, but did they have to take this out on your poor, defenseless phone?
A shove from Mitsuya quickly broke Baji’s rampage. “Stop that!” The purple-haired boy scolded, as he pushed the other Toman founder away, earning himself an irritated “Huh?!” from the First Division Captain, though that did little to scare Mitsuya. “You’re making it worse!”
The breaking of your phone was of relative insignificance to Koko at least, watching you dejectedly shuffle forward to pick up the broken pieces of the devices to stuff back into your pocket; the short tranquility he got now from the previous chaos was worth the cost to replace it for you at a later date. Even better, he could get you a nicer model, something pretty and slick and get into your good books, perhaps convince you to get an additional number that only he would have? That would definitely put him ahead of the Toman boys, at the very least.
“Hey.” A short shuffle, and Koko looked up, his eyes instantly focusing on your outstretched hand.
Inupi had long stepped aside, not eager to be pulled back into this particular lover’s squabble, those blue eyes content with observing as the Toman founders were once more embroiled in pointless arguments once more. Complete with threats of violence and withholding of lunches, it was Mistuya this time that was caught in the middle, attempting to scold both Mikey and Baji with backing from Draken.
You, though, had turned your attention instead to him. “Are you alright?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the other loud voices. Even with all that happened, you hadn’t forgotten about him.
“Ye, I’m fine,” Koko assured. “Just a bit sore.”
Yet as he reached out to accept your offer of help, it was a sudden recognition of the situation he put himself in that rang in his ears and rattled his mind; the sensation much as if he was waking from a trance the black-haired boy hadn’t even realized he was in. Widened almond eyes met yours, the realization lighting up dilated pupils: if he had known any better, you would have been the last person he would ever want to court, let alone be in any sort of relationship with, coming laden with so much baggage. Anyone would be insane to want to be involved with a walking spark like you.
Alas, the sensation was momentary, and the thought of letting you slip away from him - letting someone Koko cared about be stolen away from him again - was accompanied immediately by a heart-throbbing sense of loss that came surging from his gut. Could he truly live without you to fill the hole in his heart? More importantly, did he dare to attempt to?
Too lost in his thoughts, it was a subconscious catch of movement in the corner of his eye that snapped Koko out from his inner turmoil. It was of course you, though the disappointment was already written on your face as you began to pull away and straighten up, words tumbling free from pressed lips. “Ah- I’m glad,” you muttered, starting to turn away from him. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt bad.”
How long had he been trapped thinking in real world time? Long enough for you to notice his hesitation, at the very least. Panic now kicking his reaction back into high gear, Koko all but threw himself after your now-retreating hand, catching it just centimeters away from where it had been, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks,” was all his heavy tongue could stutter out, the black-haired boy trying desperately to pretend that nothing had happened as he pulled himself up, taking care to rely as little as possible on you. You said nothing, but the upturn of your lips told him everything he needed to know. You didn’t even pull away from him when he had surreptitiously intertwined his fingers with yours, quietly pulling both your hands behind him so the others couldn’t see.
See? There was no doubt - you wanted to be with him. The little moment however didn’t last long, as Koko forced himself to focus back on the issue at hand. He had to solve this issue before they could take you away from him. He couldn’t lose everything again. Wrecking his brain, the solution that Koko arrived at was surprisingly simple.
Money.
It was money that could have saved Akane, so maybe money could save you too? That was it. Money. Money could solve everything, couldn’t it? “How much?” Koko found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. Those two words were enough to dumbfounded everyone there, with eight pairs of eyes turning to stare at Koko. Were they really that surprised? Or just waiting for an offer?
“A hundred thousand yen,” the black-haired boy clarified. And he didn’t need to clarify what he was saying - a hundred thousand yen for them to give you to him. He didn’t want to fight, he was barely interested in being a delinquent as it is. All he wanted was you, no matter the cost. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand yen.”
“What?” You were the first to speak, your slack jaw and furrowed eyebrows sending a throb through his chest. Damn, was his offer too low? You were priceless of course - no matter how vast Koko’s fortune was, you would always be unattainable - so were you going to think that he was being cheap? That you were only worth so little in his eyes?
Even Inupi had raised an eyebrow at his named price, and though the surprise was written all over his usual stoic expression, the blond-haired boy said nothing.
But before he could try and revise his offer, to make sure you knew just how much Koko was ready to spend on you, it seemed his words finally set in in the others’ much slower minds. “Do you think we’re just going to sell-” The vein bulged prominently on Baji’s forehead as he once more lunged forward, and would have reached his target if not for Mitsuya grabbing the back of his shirt. “You son of a bitch!”
“How fucking dare you?!” Kazutora snarled, and Koko braced himself for another fight as the duo-colored delinquent made to pull away from you.
“Honestly why is it everytime there’s a ruckus, it’s always you, Mikey?” A new voice sighed out from behind Koko, catching all present by surprise. Those abyss eyes were an exact carbon copy of the Tokyo Manji Gang President’s, though the man that they belonged to was one that Koko was thankfully still on rather good terms with. “Can yall at least keep it away from my shop? Bad for business and all.”
By now, the once clear sky had filled up with clouds that blocked most of the light from the afternoon sun, the oppressing heat somewhat dissipating as the breeze picked up once more.
From where you were at the center of the mess, your ears perked up as if a dog recognized the word ‘snack’. “O-oji-san?” You sniffled a little, though you quickly pulled yourself together, rubbing your nose on your forearm. Eyes, though red and swollen, were now dry.
“I’m not that old!” Shinichiro froze right as the words left his lips, blinking as he stared back at you, the gears very clearly turning behind his eyes as he took in the entire scene that had unfolded right in front of his shop. “Oh,” the man mumbled, as if all the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, gaze turning from you to Mikey before landing on Inupi and Koko. A pause, and he sighed, resting one hand on his hip. “It’s you, huh?”
Kazutora shuffled protectively in front of you in an attempt to hide your figure from the older man’s view, your arm interlocked tightly with his as he glared back. “You staring?” The sandy-brown eyed boy demanded, puffing up his chest the same way a cat poofed up its fur, a 180 from his childlike state just minutes earlier, the tears now all gone as he scowled at the newest entry.
This, however, only earned him a whack to the back of his head by Draken, after which the boy deflated. “That’s Mikey’s older brother, dipshit.”
Shinichiro seemed to barely notice the small squabble taking place, his hand dipping into his pocket to withdraw a small, slightly crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sliding the stick into his mouth and lighting up, the older man took a long inhale, his voice slightly raspy as he spoke. “So,” he started, looking at Mikey. “This is the buddy you’ve been telling me about?”
Yet before Mikey could answer the rhetorical question, Shinichiro had already turned to Koko. “And also your little birdie?”
“No.” “No.” Both Mikey and Baji snapped irritably together in response to the second question, with Baji seemingly just a hair’s breadth away from flying straight at Koko once more, his fist clenching with anticipation.
“He,” Baji very pointedly hissed out, sharp yellow eyes glaring across the aisle at Koko. “Needs to stay away.”
You meekly shuffled your feet, your eyes turned down towards the ground as your Toman friends turned on cue to shoot you a stink eye. Ah. Caught breaking the rules again. “Koko’s just a friend,” you offered weakly, though it didn’t seem to convince anyone.
Koko could only feel the growing pit at the base of his gut as Inupi threw a similarly dirty look his way, though the sunflower-blond Black Dragon member still raised his pipe in defense. Fuck. To be fair to him, Koko reasoned internally, he hadn’t known about your ties to the Tokyo Manji Gang back when he was standing outside Inupi’s door in the rain, but he did casually fail to mention it even after he knew. Now that it was out in the open, there wasn’t really anything more he could say.
Shinichiro let out yet another ragged sigh as he took another breath, exhaling the smoke into a column that hung lazily in the still, humid air before speaking again, this time his words directed at you. “And you’re related to the Ninth Generation Black Dragon President? The one that Toman bea- OW!”
You were slightly confused at Mikey’s sudden move to stomp on Shinichiro’s foot, the abrupt sentence stop only leaving you to wonder. Was Shinichiro trying to say something that Mikey didn’t like? Shrugging it off as something you wouldn’t be able to find out anyway, the side eyes sent Shinichiro’s way were hard to miss. “Madarame is my nii-san,” you nodded, reaching down to gently touch the remnants of your phone jiggling in your pocket. “He moved out from our family home years ago, but it seems like he’s back today for some reason.”
Hopping around the pavement, the man’s expression was twisted in pain radiating from his bruised foot, with Mikey still scowling at his own older brother. “Ah, i-in that case,” Shinichiro managed to grit out as he shuffled back to lean against the glass windows of his shop. “You should go home and see what he wants.”
That turned out to be a highly unpopular opinion, and the disagreement your friends felt necessary to voice was made obvious even with the respect the delinquents had for Shinichiro, Mikey being the loudest in his protest.
“No!” “Absolutely not.” “Are you crazy?!” “NO!” The torrent of disagreements were certainly surprising to you, and you blinked owly as you were physically pulled further away from Shinichiro, as if the older man was going to personally rip you away from your friends and bring you home.
Shinichiro, however, was undeterred by the outburst that half the neighborhood must have heard, waving his arms downwards in an attempt to restore the peace, waiting for the chaos to die down before continuing, his smoking cigarette lightly gripped between two fingers. “As I was saying, you should go home and see what Shion wants first, since he is your older brother. And then Mikey and your friends can meet you after. I’ll settle things here and then send them over, alright?”
It was phrased as if it was a suggestion, but there was no negotiation to be had. Now that Shinichiro was present, he was in charge.
You seemed hesitant, but ultimately agreed. That did make sense to you, given that if Shion was planning to move back home, there were arrangements that would have to be made, and changes in your schedule. And with how much your older brother and Toman seemed to already hate each other, it would be better to allow tempers to diffuse before combining both halves of your life. “Alright, I’ll head home first.”
“What if she isn’t safe at home, Shinichiro-san?” Draken pointed out, his arms crossed, Pah nodding sagely along, joined by the frantic bubbling and wailing from Kazutora, who had done another u-turn from badass delinquent to bubbling and wailing mess, attached to your side like superglue and refusing to let go.
Mitsuya straightened out your school uniform for you, a more levelheaded presence though still physically blocking any view you had of Koko further down the street. “Are you going to be safe?”
You paused, your head cocking as you considered what Mitsuya was asking, before slowly nodding. “Madarame-nii won’t hurt me,” you tried to assure, though you didn’t sound very confident yourself. “I should be fine.”
“They won’t be long here,” Shinichiro promised, grabbing Mikey by the back of his shirt as said boy attempted to make a break for you, before he turned to almost effortlessly snag Kazutora in the exact same manner.
Koko’s heart sank when you turned away from him, but with Shinichiro’s stronger-than-it-looked hand resting on his shoulder, Inupi was already distancing himself from the Toman boys, all he could do was watch you say your goodbyes to your Toman friends before disappearing round the bend, with no say on whether he would ever be able to see you again. Maybe, maybe all he needed was more money.
Fourteen years in the future, the atmosphere that blanketed the headquarters of the feared Tokyo Manji Gang syndicate was not too dissimilar to the delicate yet weighty tension outside of Shinichiro’s shop. It was by every account a gorgeous day outside, the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and catching in the gold trimmings of each and every fitting of the opulent home. Yet, the hallways of the penthouse were unusually empty of the usual black-tie suited gangsters and guards and the like that usually teemed this area, the deafening silence weighing down what was the epitome of luxury. But it was hardly a concerning issue to Kisaki as he stalked down the wide corridors, casting a shadow on the priceless art and other masterpieces as he swept past, the crystals that decorated the chandeliers hanging above chiming lightly as they jingled with the air conditioning. After all, he did know why everyone had been sent away, and he did hold a very slight responsibility for the cause.
His destination was at the end of the corridor, a simple white door fitted into wallpapered walls that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the lavishness, a curse from a different time that continued to haunt both him and Mikey. Because it wasn’t just the door that was a specter from the past, Kisaki knew. The sole rap on the door was a courtesy, and the suited man didn’t wait for a response to enter.
The room he stepped into looked ripped straight from a common suburban home, unfitting for a multimillion dollar house right in the heart of Tokyo, even less so for a yakuza boss with the entire underground world at his fingertips. Simple painted walls, a hardwood flooring, and well-worn furniture that had seen better days, things that Kisaki wouldn’t even give a second glance yet things that would get him shot between his eyes if his fingers lingered on them for a second too long. “Mikey,” Kisaki greeted, cutting a straight path to the single armchair turned to face away from the entrance.
There was no response from said man, abyss eyes staring blankly out clear, streakless windows into the open sky, though his gaze did turn to meet Kisaki’s as the door swung close with a soft click, the dragon tattoo decorating his scrawny neck contrasting greatly with his pale skin. A sky-high view of the city skyline worthy of the sky-high price, but again, not what he was here for.
The Toman second-in-command held up a sheaf of papers, his other hand pushing up his glasses. “Need your sign-off on these.” It was rare for him to have to do such menial tasks as delivering paperwork - that is the sole purpose he pays for Mikey to have a dedicated secretary - but with it being this time of the year again, the reports were once more starting to be returned unsigned and unread.
Yet for all the effort Kisaki undertook to come here in person, it meant nothing to Mikey, the yakuza boss simply ignoring whatever his right-hand man had to say as he turned his gaze back out the window once more. The spectacled man tried again, taking a step closer. “Mikey,” he insisted, hand reaching out in an attempt to pass on the papers on hand.
But it was the distinctive click of a gun’s safety being switched off that had Kisaki retract his hand as if burnt, the anger that had sparked in those usually empty eyes clear as Mikey swung around to glare at him. Throwing both arms up in surrender and under the other’s deadly scowl, he backed away slightly; an inch closer, and those reports would have brushed against the delicate decades-old fabric of the armchair. Your armchair.
That heavy pressure was palpable as the silence weighed on the passing time. A heartbeat, then two. “What?” The biker gang president-turned-mafioso finally growled out, voice hoarse from lack of use - it must have been at least a week since he last spoke, Kisaki noted.
”Your sign-off.”
”No.”
Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“
”No,” Mikey repeated. “Leave.” And that was that, with said man refusing to look at him a moment longer, flopping back down into his armchair limply, the momentary energy from a rush of adrenaline dissipated back into the cocktail of depression and drugs the former delinquent had been indulging in.
There was nothing more that the second-in-command could do but to obey and leave. But he did understand the reason behind Mikey’s foul mood - it was just about a month out from both Shinichiro’s and your death anniversary, after all, even if both events were several years apart. Pausing at the threshold of the room, Kisaki used the moment it took to open the door to subtly glance around; it was rare that he ever had the chance to see the inside of this room.
After all, the ghost that still haunted them was you.
This was, or had been, your room, with every last item and detail having been painstakingly removed, transported and reinstalled when the yakuza boss had finally been convinced to relocate from what had been your home in the suburb for his own safety. That armchair, your bed and covers that Mikey still sleeps in, the wooden floor panels and the old plastered walls and ceilings. Even this blasted door which formally served as your bedroom door. It was all you.
And your death hadn’t even been planned. Sure the spectacled man knew of your existence, but you had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been caught up in an attack meant for another.
Carefully closing the door behind him, Kisaki shook his head, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The once strongman of Toman, the invincible delinquent, could conquer anything he set out to - the spiral into crime, the murder of his former friends, the whole of the Japan underground world. Yet twelve years on, Mikey just couldn’t let you go, long after you had breathed your last breath and torn the entire Toman apart.
The good thing was that at least Kisaki doesn’t exactly need the Toman boss’ approval to get things done around here; it’s far easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Back fourteen years in the past, you hardly had the time to worry about what time would eventually bring to your doorstep, knee-deep in your current problems. The moon hung mockingly high in the sky as you closed the door gently behind you, tweaking the knob slightly as it latched back into place to stop its usual click. Your efforts, however, were in vain, and you froze as the all-too distinctive sound echoed through the otherwise silent night. Carefully pressing one ear against the wooden front door, you held your breath, waiting to hear that distinct stomping of feet down the stairs in your pursuit and the roar of your name.
The past weeks have been nothing short of hell. With your older brother Madarame temporarily moving back into your family home, it went without saying that you were no longer permitted to see your Toman friends going forward, let alone have them come over. Biting your lip, you would simply agree and say nothing more, careful to tread on eggshells around the volatile boy. With how closely your older brother has been monitoring your every move, you hadn’t dared to step out of line - you did previously have a front row seat as to what happened to the people around you the last time you dared to openly disobey.
Yet time and time again, it was Mikey and the others that persisted in swinging round to pick you up in the evenings against your brother’s orders in the one and half week since the fight, exactly as Shinichiro had predicted, even doing several very loud donuts that your neighbors would not appreciate outside your house just to make sure that Shion knew they were there. To your surprise, it was your brother who has done nothing more than scowl at you running out to meet them from the window like a disapproving mother before disappearing into the house, failing to even bring up your cheeky escapades the day after. Him and the Toman founders definitely weren’t on speaking terms, you determined, but there was more to it that either party was willing to say.
But all this was far from your concern at the moment.
Tonight was one of those rare nights: with your brother fast asleep in his bed instead of out and prowling the streets, and the mobs of various-colored hair were nowhere to be seen lounging along your street, busy with a gang meet at Musashi Shrine. A rare chance to take advantage of this extraordinary situation where you have finally been left alone for just a small window of time. That is, as long as you didn’t get caught first - and your brother would 100% tattle on you to your friends if it would get you in more trouble.
The summertime heat was already in full-force by now at the start of August, and though the blazing temperature has at least cooled somewhat with the absence of the sun from the night sky, the humidity had yet to let up. Beads of perspiration that dotted your forehead trailed their way down your forehead as you waited, your heartbeat racing with every second ticking by. Was this it?
A minute passed. Then two. And the inside of your house remained as quiet as the dead of night, the peace of your neighborhood unbroken. Heaving a sigh of relief, you quickly turned heel, fleeing down the lifeless main street before taking a corner at the first alley, coming face to face with a familiar grinning face waiting for you under the flickering light of a weary streetlamp. “Took you long enough,” Koko chuckled, both hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.
“That’s not very nice!” You tried your best to put up an indignant front, but the facade collapsed into a wide grin too quickly for any part of it to be taken seriously. “Did I keep you waiting long, Koko? Sorry ‘bout that.”
The black-haired boy waved off your apologies, pulling himself up from the wall he had been leaning against. “Nah, it’s just been a few minutes,” he admitted. Offering a hand to you, you were glad to accept, gently intertwining your fingers with his as he led you through the dark alleyway, your duo’s footsteps barely echoing amidst the silent residential buildings. “Any place in mind?”
You shook your head. “Didn’t think about it cause I know you do.”
“Ah.”
You laughed as Koko rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. You did know him well enough to assume otherwise. Letting out a hum, you allowed the other to tug you closer to his side, to which you responded by resting your head on his shoulder. “So where are we going?”
If you could be honest with yourself for a moment, Koko was the breath of fresh air you had been looking for. It was a truly ungrateful feeling to harbor, especially towards your Toman boys who had been the ones to take you in and accept you as a friend, but he was an escape from the constant neediness and possessiveness. You did love them dearly, really, but sometimes it all just got too much for you, with the final straw being that particular incident outside of Shinichiro’s shop; you had never been frightened of Mikey or Baji or the others before, yet seeing them snap before your eyes at another that you held dear to you - it was all too much, on top of having to deal with new tension at home.
All you wanted was to be able to hang out with a friend you made yourself, someone you didn’t have to give constant attention to. A friend who wouldn’t put you on a pedestal.
“There’s a nice karaoke place in town,” Koko replied almost absentmindedly, his well-gelled hair bobbing slightly as it caught the occasional light as the two of you stepped out of the alleyway and back onto a main street. “We can take the train there.”
Your mind immediately thought to the last round your Toman boys had invited you to karaoke with them, the session ending with you having to cool heads when they started bickering about whose turn it was with the mic. “That’s a good idea,” you nodded. Those places were open pretty late, right? Plus a private room would make it a lot harder to get caught.
The area the two of you ended up in was a location slightly outside of town, which you recognized as not being too far from Shinichiro’s shop - the now-closed small convenience store was the same one that Mikey had been dragging you past just two weeks earlier. This was definitely a more uptown area compared to where the bike shop was, you noted, the stores though all closed at this hour were steadily getting larger and more luxurious the further you and Koko strolled down deserted streets.
“It’s so quiet,” you found yourself musing out loud, earning a soft exhale from the other.
You rarely venture to this part of Tokyo City, it being well out of your usual sphere of life with good reason, though even with the handful of visits under your belt, the difference between day and night was still starkly visible. A flood of business suits and their occupants busy on the phone, with the rare occasional student weaving their way through the crowd, these streets were hardly catered to a younger audience, the prices well out of the range of what any student could afford, and you would assume the same, even more so in fact at night. The last thing you would expect to find here would be a karaoke, but perhaps you simply missed it before.
“This way,” Koko tugged you through an unassuming door, tucked neatly between two shopfronts and one you would have completely glazed over. Up a dimly lit stairway and with a light knock from your friend, the well-worn steel door opened to reveal a backdrop of high ceilings and a chandelier, framing an elegantly-dressed lady ushering the two of you in, the door swinging shut behind you with a quiet click. You felt your jaw dragging across the floor, eyes glancing around and taking in as much as you could. What even was this place?
Shiny, polished granite floors sparkled with specks of yellow reflected from the dim lights above, the walls trimmed tastefully with gold and decorated with flourished wallpapers. The crystal vase in which an enormous bouquet of flowers had been professionally arranged, atop a spotless dark wood counter, combined with the staff here wearing full suits, was all rather intimidating.
Vaguely noting Koko saying something to the lady who had welcomed you at the door, his words blending into the soft classical background music, you were only grounded by the fact that your hand was still laced with his as you shrunk shyly behind him. Needless to say, you felt extremely out-of-place, dressed in nothing more than your usual outing attire having expected a simple date. Were they going to kick you out?
Not just yet fortunately, as you were led down a velvet-walled hallway instead, lined with doors that ran the entire length, before being ushered into the room right at the end. Koko had stepped into the booth first, holding the door open as you quickly followed suit, and much to your relief, the inside looked similar enough to a regular karaoke room. Letting out a sigh of relief, you settled on the sofa, patting the area next to you. “I thought it was going to be so different,” you admitted, snuggling in close to Koko as he sat down next to you. “The outside looks so fancy.”
Said boy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to grab two microphones off their stands. “I thought it would be better since it's unlikely you’ll be found here.” By your Toman friends, that is.
“Not that I don’t like it,” you hastily added, accepting the device from Koko. “It’s lovely, thank you. And I doubt they know this place even exists.”
“No way,” the financier rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from you. That goes without saying. “Come on, pick a song, I’ll order us some drinks.”
Time slipped through your fingers, the minutes flying by without your notice. Though you barely had a sip of alcohol (Koko refused to let you have any more than a taste of his cocktail), you were sure that you were giddy enough from giggling the entire time, your newest plushie sitting snug on your lap.
”I still can’t believe you managed to nail that song!” You laughed out, lightly tapping on the black-haired boy’s arm as you carefully stepped across the curb. “I sounded completely off, I swear.”
“No way,” Koko disagreed, a tinge of red brushed across both cheeks as his gaze fell away from yours, though from the alcohol or otherwise, you couldn’t quite tell. He has had several drinks, after all. “You were great.”
Definitely the alcohol, you mused to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly as you gracefully ignored his voice trailing-off. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, Koko.” And you meant it - with everything that had been going on at home and with the Toman boys, you truly did need this break from the hum and drum of regular life, even if you didn’t know it before. “I really had fun.”
No response, and none was needed, the other only returning the squeeze of your hand, face still turned away from yours. Strolling down the quiet street, it was late into the night, way past the time that you were usually already tucked into bed, your lights turned off and usually accompanied by one (or more) of the Toman founders. Yet your life these past months have been anything but usual, and having been unable to see Koko without getting him into unmeasurable amounts of trouble that would most likely end up with him in the hospital, you did miss him dearly. You will deal with the consequences of a lack of sleep tomorrow, you determined.
The music of yester-hours still buzzing in your ears and a hum under your breath, it would have been a perfect ending to your night if all the excitement ended there.
“Hey assfaces!”
A sudden loud voice from behind that reverberated across the silent night had you jump a foot into the air like a startled cat, and you whirled around to locate the source of the disturbance. Koko, though, seemed barely bothered, his light tugs at your hand urging you to keep walking before trouble found the two of you. Too little, too late; your paths were quickly being blocked by several punks with aggressive hairstyles that you quickly identified as delinquents, though they didn’t seem to have a uniform of any sort, with the attire consisting of a mix of ruffled school uniforms and streetwear. “Strolling through my territory, huh?!”
Your heart skipped a beat - did they know who you were? Were they looking for Koko? No, that couldn’t be it. You decided that being friendly couldn’t go wrong, maybe it’s just a case of mistaken identity. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can we help you?”
A jeer rippled through the crowd in response, and you shrunk back. That was obviously the wrong move. Worse still, your voice seemed to have triggered a memory recall. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” the seeming group leader muttered, squinting as he leaned in towards you.
The grip Koko had on your hand tightened ever so slightly even as the expression on said boy’s face remained relaxed, almost as if bored. He must have gone through this multiple times, you reckoned, as you tried to shift away from the other.
“Ah,” the recognition settled into the other’s eyes as he pushed his face into your personal space, and you recoiled at the spit flying out from his mouth at you. “It's the shitbag always hanging off of Mikey, aren’t ya you little thing?”
Uh oh.
Another wave of sneering washed through the gang, though this time, the scorn was audible.
“I got beaten up by those Toman fuckers last week!” “One of them burned my bike!” “He stole my lunch!”
Your heart dropped into your gut. Fuck. You never thought you would be recognized.
The head delinquent’s smirk only grew larger as the displeasure boiled over into calls for Toman’s death, and he made to grab at your arm. “You’re quite the cute thing. Those fuckers have good taste. I think I’ll have some fun fir-”
A loud crack! - and you whirled around to the sight of a delinquent crumpling to the ground, clearly having lost consciousness. And there was Koko, calmly withdrawing his fist, simply not having the disrespect. “I rather you pick on someone your own size,” he stated, as if it was another usual day.
Time seemed to have frozen for a second, with the rest of the delinquents present turning almost robotically to glance between Koko and their downed buddy, the moment bringing with it an unexpected peace. But alas, it did not last as pandemonium quickly broke back out, the hoodlums sent into an uproar. “I WANT BOTH OF THEM DEAD!” The gang leader roared.
Koko shoved you. “Run!” He yelled, as he started beating down whoever he could reach. “Get to safety!”
You took off, drawing half the crowd with you, that distinctive side-swept mob of black hair quickly disappearing behind a wall. Fuck.
Shit shit shit- your feet were all but flying over the pavement at this point as you sprinted down the street as fast as you could, taking random rights and lefts in an attempt to shake off your pursuers. But alas, enraged delinquents weren’t as easy to lose as you had hoped, and the stomp of their boots echoing behind you only ate away at your gut more and more. The light of the streetlamps overhead flashed and disappeared as you bolted through each and every circle of illumination, the environment all but a blur - you were sure you were completely lost at this point, though all your mind was urging you to just keep running.
What on earth were you going to do now? What could you do?
Your thoughts wandered back to Koko whom you had abandoned on the main street as you took another shark right, and your heart clenched, the guilt already starting to gnaw away at your gut. The last glimpse you had, he had been surrounded by so many of those fierce delinquents; yes, he had taken one of those builds down easily, but with opponents of such numbers? Maybe you should have stayed, but you didn’t want Koko to have to not only fight but also watch over a useless you. And, you tried to reason, with you running off, you at least have managed to draw some of the crowd away to chase after you.
But now that you were on the run, easily recognized by the self-declared rivals of the Tokyo Manji Gang, you were no doubt only creating more trouble for Mikey and the rest of your friends. No matter what you decided, no matter what you did, you only seemed to drag more and more people you claim to care about into the mess that was your life.
Turning down yet another side alley, your lungs were beginning to burn from effort, every breath you took becoming heavier and heavier as your calves yearned for relief. You couldn’t recall the last time you had to assert such consistent effort, but you urged yourself on, forcing yourself past your limits as the adrenaline rush slowly ebbed away. You needed a place to hide and rest, somewhere safe - but where could you go?
Bursting out back onto a main street, it was a familiar white awning that caught the corner of your eye, and though now folded up, you could recognize the partially hidden words and logo anywhere. S.S Motor…you weren’t sure if anyone was still in the shop at this time of night, but it wasn’t like you really had any other choice now. The white awning was calling to you as if it was your salvation as you closed the distance in under a minute, slamming straight into the locked front door. Damn. The door wasn’t going to give way no matter the amount of desperate rattling, and you should have known better, yet here you were, wasting precious time.
Letting go of the worn brass handle, it was the bloodthirsty calls for your blood growing nearer and nearer, accompanied by thunderous footsteps, that had you hesitate to leave the minute safety that the indent of the shop doors allowed you, with each precious second passing decreasing the amount you would have had to continue your escape. But even if you wanted to, your body was already at the point of giving up - you were physically incapable of running any further, your legs urging you to give up as you doubled over, pressing your hands against your knees in a bid to catch your breath. This was it, you supposed. You were going to make more trouble for Mikey and the rest, and probably get beat up in the process.
You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and turned around. No, this was not the end. You weren’t going to give up so easily and disgrace your Toman friends here. You had fists just like them after all, you could at least put up some resistance.
The click of a lock opening had relief that flooded into your system when your name was called by a recognizable name. Looking down at you with furrowed abyss eyes was none other than Shinichiro, that signature bluish-gray overalls of his tied still around his waist, spanner in hand. “What ya doing here at this time?”
”Chased,” was all you could hurriedly say in the time you had, as you glanced backwards at a roar that sounded just a turn away. “CanIcomeinplease?”
Shinichiro seemed to understand almost immediately. “Hide and call the police,” he grimaced, holding the door open and allowing you duck in under his arm. But much to your surprise, the older man didn’t follow you inside, instead stepping outside to block the path and line of sight of the horde of delinquents who have finally caught up to you. “Can I help you?”
Scurrying behind a motorcycle and rolling up into a ball in an attempt to make yourself smaller, your shaking hands could barely grasp your small phone without almost instantly dropping it, and you struggled to make sense of the keypad through teary eyes as you followed the commotion outside through the commotion alone, scared to give any visible indication of your presence to the angry gangsters outside.
Demands for Shinichiro to step aside, to bring you out to them, the threats of death and torture, and all the while the man was attempting to calm the mob and diffuse the situation. He was depending on you, you tried to tell yourself, finally punching in the emergency hotline, the dialing and connecting noises sounding as if they were echoing through the whole shop and not just in your ear, as if those ruthless hooligans outside could hear.
But they must have sensed your panic, your fear like a predator in the dark woods. A scuffle, and your heart sank like an anchor as a loud clunk rang out through the dead silence of the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. Grabbing the nearest tool, you flung yourself out from your hiding spot, and sprinted towards the shop exit.
Your hands were still shaking as the blue and red lights of emergency responders illuminated the once-quiet neighborhood around you, the foil blanket that the paramedics had wrapped around you doing little to stop the cold from seeping in. Seated just outside of the parameter of the yellow crime scene tape that now lined the parameter of S.S Motor, you barely registered the policeman attempting to talk to you to get your witness statement, his words flowing like water past you, reverberating into an inaudible distant mess in your head. Those lifeless eyes were all you could see, that accusatory stare that haunted you no matter how hard you tried to push it away. The ambulance had already taken your victim away, the first responders claiming that he was still breathing and that they could still save him, but Shinichiro-san?
He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.
And it was in this broken state that Mikey finally stumbled across you, his phone gripped tight in one hand. Black, empty eyes wide with what could only be shock as he took in the chaos that had unfolded outside of his older brother’s shop, his gaze eventually falling on you, a trembling and responseless form on the sidewalk, a splatter of blood across your once-pristine clothes. In an instant, the Toman President had pulled you to your feet and straight into a tight hug, your face pressed tight into the crook of his neck, much to the surprise of the officer.
He didn’t need to say more. The last of whatever control you had left fell apart, and the tears trailed down your face, the hiccups uncontrollable. “M-mikey,” you wailed into his skin, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt as the past hour flashed in the back of your eyes. “I-I’m-”
“What happened?” The blond-haired boy’s hair was soft, hoarse, the disbelief clearly tinting his words. It couldn’t be Shinichiro underneath that cover, could it? It couldn’t be. But that call, this scene.
“I killed him,” you whispered out, pulling away, as you looked back down at your trembling hands. “H-he attacked Shinichiro-san, so I…I-”
There was only one covered body, yet two weapons. Mikey pulled away, eyes staring at you, trying to read your thoughts. You couldn’t have killed Shinichiro-san; so who?
Those five minutes were burned into your mind. You standing from behind the motorbike to find one of the delinquents with a blood-splattered steel pipe in hand, and Shinichiro sprawled out on the pavement right in front of his shop, the blood trickling down the side of his head; something washing over you as you had grabbed the heavy wrench with two hands and bursting through the shop doors, swinging the tool with all your might. The connecting blow that reverberated through your bones, and the other continuing to stand for a moment longer, swaying, staring blankly at you before crumpling to the floor. The rest of the ruffians dispersed as the authorities approached, leaving you behind trying desperately to administer first aid and CPR to Shinichiro, all the while fervently trying to ignore the other boy downed by your hand.
“I killed him,” you mumbled again, your voice haunted as the tears flowed once more. “I-I didn’t mean to- I swear-”
But the last thing Mikey could care about now was some nobody. “What happened to Shinichiro?” He repeated, this time more firmly, both hands gripping you and pinning your arms to your side. “Why him?”
“Protecting me. Th-they’ve seen me with Toman…”
Mikey audibly snarled. “And why were you here? Why aren’t you at home?!” The boy all but shouted at you, shaking you vigorously. You couldn’t blame him. It was all your fault.
Your mind jumped to Koko, where you had left him fighting that group of gangsters back along the shopping street. You couldn’t get another into trouble - not when you had committed the ultimate scene. And with the turmoil boiling in your stomach, you did something you never thought you had the stomach to. The tears started once more as you pressed your face into Mikey’s jacket, fist clenching around the white fabric. “Was looking for a job so I-I can move out,” the lie slipped out from your lips, each word burning your tongue as you mumbled out. “Th-they said they pay well.”
A murderer. You thought you would be better, better than the clusterfuck that was your family. You had tried to be better, striving to be kind, thoughtful, open-hearted. Yet here you were, you thought bitterly. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.
The policeman seemed to have heard enough, one strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the other shook Mikey off of you. “You need to come with me to the station.”
A liar and a murderer.
#tokyo revengers#yandere tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#yandere tokyo revengers x reader#mikey x reader#baji x reader#mitsuya x reader#kazutora x reader#pah chin x reader#mitsuya takashi#draken x reader#kazutora#sano manjiro#keisuke baji#draken#kokonoi hajime#kokonoi x reader#shinichiro#inupi seishu#shion madarame#yandere platonic mikey#cheesus drabbles
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hi it’s me again. i also can’t stop thinking about like a rusty knife. what the FUCK do akira’s parents think about their strange child coming back from tokyo even stranger
That evening, tucked up together in their respectable bedroom in their respectable house in the respectable town they live in, Kurusu Hisoka hesitates before turning off the light next to her side of the bed. "Are we going to talk about this?"
Her husband, who has long since taken off his glasses and rolled over on his side, deigns to grunt at her.
"No," she presses. "Kazuo. We have to. That-- that boy."
Kurusu Kazuo, married to his wife for eighteen years and exasperated for each and every one, gusts out a sigh and rolls over onto his back. "Hicchan."
"That's not my son." It tears out of her, this horrible thing that she says, rips its way free from her breast and hovers bloody and menacing between them. The wound it leaves isn't clean; she's already short of breath, heavy and aching. "That's not my Akichan. You have to see it too. You have to."
A pause; Kazuo finally rolls to face her entirely. "Hicchan. We've talked about this."
"No, I've talked about this! You just bury your head in the paper and go 'yes dear', I know you don't listen to me! That boy doesn't move like my son, he doesn't speak like my son, he doesn't act like my son--"
"And what are we to do?" His voice is firm, but hollow. "We were lucky to get him back in one piece in the first place, after that man. He's a teenage boy, and he's back with his family. You'll see. Akira is still your son."
Hisoka takes a breath, another, wet, gulping. "I'll just have to remind him," she says, mostly to herself. "That he's my baby. That he belongs with me, with us, right? Once he gets his legs back under him, he'll realize he can stay here and be safe. No more of this-- escapism."
Her baby, her boy; she almost went mad the year he was gone, but Kazuo had expressly forbidden her from calling more than once a week. And half the time she could tell Akira wasn't even paying attention to her, could hear the low background murmur of voices behind him.
Her poor baby boy, all alone in that terrible city she'd barely escaped from. What a blessing it is to live here in Inaba, quiet and calm and safe.
What a relief it will be for her boy, her calm and placid boy, when he finally calms down and remembers who he is, who he's supposed to be.
#filed under:#ask meme#hey hisoka? hisoka? you're gonna be in for a rude fucking awakening my dude lmao#kurusu hisoka used to have a perfect baby boy she could show around#the type that every housewife would love#and instead what came home was a DELINQUENT#with a CAT#CAT FUR ON HER UPHOLSTERY#the tantrum she threw when akira wouldn't put mona outside was unmatched#but for one of the first times in his life akira stood up to her about it#i always hc his home life as EXTREMELY COMPLICATED with COMPLEX FAMILY DYNAMICS#and this is just one facet of many i enjoy#the tags are longer than the content at this point
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“listen. i’m telling you again. we’re NOT telling her i got you that lego set for winning that fight, am i clear?”
megumi nods with a roll of his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “i don’t think she’s gonna be as mad as you think she will be. this isnt the first time this happens, you know?”
“regardless, the lego set remains unmentioned,” satoru points at megumi with a serious index finger, to which megumi rolls his eyes again as he resumes setting the dining table. “the tone of her voice on the phone said she’s coming for blood. i don’t wanna be on her bad side.”
“oh? so you set me up instead?!” megumi lets go of the plates to cross his arms over his chest. “is the strongest really such a scaredy-cat, now?”
“i’m not scared!” satoru is offended, even though he’s about to piss his pants. “and I wasn’t the one that decided that beating up 8 fucking kids on one go was the brightest idea ever, was i?”
“but you rewarded me for it!”
“he did what?”
the two of them freeze in their place, eyes widening as they hold each other’s gazes, too scared to look at the source of the voice coming from the kitchen entrance.
they stay quiet for a solid amount of seconds, and you remain unmoving. gojo gestures for megumi to look at you first, to which megumi replies with a subtle shake of his head, a thin sheet of sweat breaking on his forehead.
“i asked a question.”
thunder is rumbling, and when gojo decides to, very slowly, shift his gaze to you, it’s a scene right out of a horror movie when lightening strikes and thunder rolls on cue. you’re standing at the entrance, drenched from head to toe, a cut or two fresh on your face. your uniform remains unscathed, save for the water dripping to make a little damp pool beneath your feet.
“you’re home early, sweets,” gojo tries to approach, but you pin him in place with a glare. his nervous grin gradually falls from his face. “how was the mission?”
he hears footsteps approaching quickly, and when tsumiki comes to a halt behind you, seeing the state you’re in, she begins to slowly retreat despite satoru’s look of despair at her.
“you rewarded him.” you echo megumi’s words. the 14 year old swallows hard, eyes sliding from you to the suddenly more interesting kitchen sink. “he almost gets expelled, and you reward him.”
“but he didn’t get expelled!” satoru chuckles cheerfully. “he apologized, and all! didn’t you, megumi?” he nudges the teenager’s shoulder pushing him a bit forwards so he can take some of the impact himself. he lowers himself a bit to mumble to him through his teeth. “who’s the scaredy -cat now, huh?”
“I-i—“
“i leave the house for a couple of days— not even a couple, this was a day and a half, and i have to wrap my mission up quickly because my son’s being turned into a delinquent with his dad’s support?”
it takes satoru a couple of seconds to register the words that just came out fo his partner's mouth. he immediately looks at the flustered teenager by his side, to find a light blush on his cheeks and neck.
something warm settles behind gojo's ribcage. it was never addressed, that they're practically family. the only d word megumi calls gojo is dick, but fuck, by the look on megumi's face, the way his skin is painted pink, he knows that the seemingly stoic kid feels the same.
satoru doesn't even think you realize the way you addressed them.
tsumiki peeks her head from behind you. there's a sweet smile growing on her sweet face that he catches. he tries not to smile, he really does, but something in his demeanor is shattering right before his eyes.
"satoru!" you raise your voice, a frustrated frown painting your features, but all satoru feels is the love spreading through his body, his fingertips buzzing with it and all. "this is not rewardable behavior!"
"don't be mad at him..." megumi mumbled, finally taking a step forward. your gaze shifts to him, but he's looking anywhere but you. "he only wanted to cheer me up. this is my fault."
your eyes can't help but soften. gojo watches the change of expression in awe.
"if it helps, they were bullies." satoru chimes in a much softer voice, matching the look on your face. he ruffles the boy's hair, who doesn't push his hand away for the first time in a while. "it's just that megumi here has his own way of doing good. peculiar," gojo pauses with a little laugh when the teenager finally pushes his hand away grumpily. "but he's still doing good."
you finally spot the scar on his cheekbone, one that's already been tended to by satoru it seems, but you still walk across and hold his cheeks in your hands to check it out. its really not that deep, but something still tugs at your heart.
and satoru is still watching the changes of your expression, taking note of every little one. he knows you all too well, you see, and he knows that you're about to start tearing up any second now.
"why don't you guys go fetch angry mom here a towel or two?" he addresses the children, grabbing your wrist to let go of megumi, who looks too guilty for his own good right now. he brings you closer to him instead. "I'm afraid she'll only be grumpier if she catches a cold."
megumi hesitates, but tsumiki calls for him, understanding the cue better than her younger brother.
once they were both out of sight, gojo chuckles in endearment when you shove your face in his chest, uncontrollable tears escaping past your heavy lids. he grabs your head with one hand while the other holds you to him, soaked and all.
"oh baby," he sighs. he doesn't think he's ever been happier than this moment right here. "you just called him my son."
you punch him right in the gut. he groans out in pain, but his hold never wavers on you. "he is your son."
"i think we both prefer the name long-term pain in the ass, but that will do." he raises your head to look at him, and when he sees that red nose and tears down your cheeks, he can't help but giggle some more. "god, you're literally the best thing to ever happen to me."
"shut up." your cheeks burn in his hands, and you're unable to look away. "I was so scared something had happened to him. i would've never forgiven myself."
"the fuck do you take me for?" satoru fakes offense, raising an eyebrow down at you. you roll your eyes at him, from which he takes even more offense, letting you go with a scoff of disbelief. he dramatically removes his sunglasses and crosses his fingers in front of him. "I'll hollow purple your ass so hard right now and you'll never live to tell the tale."
"sure, honey," you pat him on the chest with one hand and wipe away your tears with the other, beginning to turn away from him with a, now more subtle, eye-roll. "whatever you say."
he grabs you and pulls you flush to him again, this time capturing your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss that has your whole body letting loose right there in his arms. your arms wrap around his neck like a reflex, and he squeezes you into him, a dull ache beating in him to just merge your bodies into one,, to have you in his very bones, and maybe even then it wouldn't be quite enough.
"i would rather be torn in two than let something happen to any of you," he breaks away from the kiss to peck your nose. you look into his eyes, and it worries you just how true his statement is. "what else do I have to fight for?"
=====================================
more?
#ackermonie writes#megumi IS gojo's son i dont make the rules#i hate u gege#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#gojo hurt/comfort#megumi fushiguro#gojo comfort#kid!megumi
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your birthday | s. es
boyfriend!eunseok x reader | 6.0k words
two posts in two days but this is a little treat for eunseok’s birthday and an instalment of the next series i have in mind! kinda based off a request i received about eunseok and the reader in an igaf war (LMFAO)…inspired by the feeling i get when i listen to in a week by hozier.
contains: having cake (and eating it too if you catch my drift)
when eunseok first became a teen, nothing changed.
he spent his prepubescent life yearning to become one of the big kids that seemed to have so much fun. he would kick rocks past the park when leaving school, stealing glances at the teenagers that passed around a brown paper bag by the skating ramps. eunseok would look at them through through the chainlink fence when they decided to hang out on eunseok’s path home from school. when he was feeling extra bold, eunseok let his body lean against the fence, fingers in the gaps of wire while he observed them.
eunseok memorized how they moved their bodies carelessly and walked with a relaxed nature, how they were oblivious to the world around them. eunseok didn’t know if their benevolence was by design, he was so acutely aware of everything he thought it was an innate part of being human. but here he stood, less than a yell away and they didn’t acknowledge his presence. but eunseok was still meek at that age, a small boy who had barely graduated from his velcro sneakers to laced shoes. the teenagers wore clothes that hung loosely on their bodies, dressed in fashion that would make anyone think they were delinquents. they may have been that very thing, what else do you call teenagers that skipped school to spend time at the park day drinking?
no matter what they were, it didn’t matter to eunseok. he thought they were cool and he was determined to become just like them. so when he stood underneath the sun on his sixteenth birthday instead of only staring at them through the fence he called out to them. eunseok was a different person now, he skipped class and retired the circle frame glasses he got called a nerd for wearing. the best part was that the group of kids drinking in the park changed each year and they had finally become his age. eunseok called out the name of a kid that shared class with him waving a pack of stolen cigarettes in the air like an offering. eunseok had stolen the pack from his parents a long time ago in preparation. he hated the smell and the way it made his throat burn, but he didn’t judge. he knew the delinquents loved to smoke, and they easily accepted eunseok into their group after he took a swig of hard liquor without grimacing.
when he turned eighteen, the first thing he did was buy a lottery ticket. he didn’t know how to decipher the icons on the scratch off, he had to ask a very uninterested worker to tell him if he won or not. he left the gas station with a pack of cigarettes, poorer than when he walked in. eighteen wasn’t too different for eunseok. he didn’t have to worry about skipping school anymore, he had graduated and could fully dedicate his time to hanging out all day doing nothing with his friends. his group had moved on from the adolescence of a kids playground to an abandoned pool. they would spend all day there and be the first ones when the rest of the towns delinquents arrived at night.
the night of his eighteenth birthday was when eunseok first saw you. eunseok was embarrassed to admit to his friends that knew you were not new to the scene. your older brother was one of the teenagers eunseok looked at when he was younger. your brother came and went, his mind was focused on things outside of drinking and breaking minor laws. he was one of the only ones that left the city quickly after graduation. he was shrouded in mystery and you were no different. when eunseok saw you walking towards the side of the pool his feet dangled off of he didn’t know what to do. eunseok had become so used to ignoring the world around him that when you came into it he was sheepish. he forgot how to form a bond with anyone outside of shared love for misbehaving and making bad decisions.
you were already so mature for your age, and you knew who you were. you spoke to eunseok about having a job and how excited you were for college to broaden your horizons. eunseok felt like he was that nerdy meek boy again standing on the other side of a chainlink fence—this time he was admiring you through the wired frame. eunseok wanted to be like you, he wanted to go after what he wanted in life like you did.
eunseok didn’t have to spend three years changing himself to be let inside. you welcomed him into your arms without stolen cigarettes and alcohol hidden in paper bags. he felt like he had found a new side of himself, and eunseok couldn’t stop telling people about it. no one could blame eunseok for his discovery; he didn’t know that life could be so sweet, or that love was something greater than partying all night.
eunseok took responsibility for not telling you early on that you had changed his life. talking about you to anyone that would listen wasn’t enough. the summer came to a close quicker than he expected. the season usually droned on when he spent his time hanging around abandoned places and playing video games in his friend’s basement. but it flew by, and spending every waking moment with you didn’t help the feeling of an impeding end subside. the final grains of sand went through the hourglass while there was a party at the abandoned pool house. it was one of the few nights of the summer where everyone was able to beat the sticky heat, and for the first time in eunseok’s teenage life, he wasn’t there.
he chose to get drunk off you instead, and inhale your perfume while you whispered in his ear. the two of you decided to make heat of your own, the type that had your bodies drenched in sweat underneath thin covers. your bodies molded together and glistened, reflecting the light of the illegal fireworks that exploded outside. eunseok gave you what little he had left to give you that night. he made a silent vow that he would be a better person when you held him tight and let out cries of euphoria into his neck.
eunseok turned twenty-one while you were still away. he went back to the same gas station that gave him the worthless scratch off lottery ticket to buy his first legal alcoholic beverage. eunseok waited until he settled into his apartment, leaning deep into his couch before reading the label and taking a quick sip. it tasted no different, maybe even worse than the drinks he had snuck and illegally tasted all these years. eunseok didn’t have too much of a taste for alcohol now, even less of a taste for the sickly sweet drinks you preferred. but he drank every drop for some reason, acting like you were the one that brought it for him.
eunseok was twenty-one when he rented his first car to come and see you. he took off work responsibly and drove through the night until he made it to your campus. he caught you just as you were leaving, planning a secret roadtrip back home to surprise her boyfriend who had just turned twenty-one. eunseok saw you nearly drop the bottle of the shitty vodka wrapped in a bow when you opened the door to him. he spent the night with you in your dorm and you two split the potable hand sanitizer with no chaser like you guys were teenagers again.
you two barely made it through half the bottle when eunseok felt you lean over and whisper into the rosy shell of his ear that your roommate very obviously wasn’t coming back. she had gone home for spring break, just like everyone else on your floor. eunseok still pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, and stuck fingers in your mouth to stop you from crying out. he let out grunts into the crook of your neck, and both of you muttered strings of incoherent words while you kissed. eunseok spent the rest of the night making up for lost time through rushed touches fueled by alcohol and desperation.
the next morning eunseok was hungover for the first time in so long he forgot how to operate. he had to wear your cat-eye sunglasses while you walked around the area surrounding your campus. again, eunseok fell victim to terrible timing. but he couldn’t stop himself from saying he wants to move to the city, and he would get the two of you an apartment off campus with the money he had saved up. he quickly talked about a future on the sidewalk, not noticing that he was next to a park. he was only focused on you, the way you were still glowing even through the tint of his shades. eunseok was afraid that the ridiculous sunglasses on his face made his words seem unserious, but the way you leaped into his arms and screamed with joy told eunseok you were taking him serious.
eunseok was twenty-three now, and he was nothing like the person he was in his hometown. after leaving, eunseok realized the world was alot bigger and there were more places to be than playgrounds and underneath bridges. he also realized that proximity was the only thing that made his friends stick around. he missed all of his friends from back home, and he wished distance didn’t keep them apart. eunseok came home to the small apartment he shared with you to see a single trail of confetti lead him to the kitchen. eunseok set his things down, and hung up his coat on the rack next to the door. he blew warm air into his hands, he didn’t know why it was still so cold in the middle of march. eunseok looked for you on the couch, where you normally sat relaxed after your shift until eunseok got home.
when he didn’t see you, he tried holding back a smile as he slowly followed the trail. he turned three large steps to get to the kitchen into fifteen tiny ones.
“i thought we weren’t celebrating birthdays.” eunseok said loudly into the empty space of your apartment.
the walls were thin, and eunseok barely had to raise his voice for it to echo in every room of the tiny layout. but eunseok imagined the yelling and the tiny steps increased the anticipation and excitement for your big reveal. he would talk to you about the finances later, and how important it was to not waste money on meaningless celebrations.
when he finally rounds the corner eunseok is surprised to see seven familiar faces looking back at him. his jaw drops open when everyone immediately launches into singing him happy birthday. it still hangs when it’s time to blow out his candles. after it’s all said and done, everyone in his kitchen looks back at him waiting for eunseok to say something back. he is still shocked, and he sounds confused when he asks how did everyone fit in the tiny space of his kitchen laughter. booms in his apartment, but eunseok is still confused.
while eunseok caught up with his friends, he can’t help but be confused why they are all here. birthdays were never significant in his friend group, the closest thing they got to a celebration was first pick on what to buy with the pocket change everyone was able to scrounge up. but eunseok’s friends talked about how you got them together, how you planned everything while you stood in the kitchen shaking your head bashfully. eunseok made his friends thank you repeatedly, until you had to sneak into your shared bedroom to get away from the endless praise. eunseok didn’t let it end when you were out of the room. he spoke of you highly in between topics of his friends and how good his life was. his friends were congratulating him, and they spoke of their own lives. everyone from his friend group were going on to do things of their own, outside the limits they were almost fenced into.
eunseok could talk to his friends for hours and he was grateful that you let him have alone time with the people he hadn’t seen in so long. but he couldn’t stop himself from occasionally peaking towards the closed door of the bedroom. eunseok wanted nothing more than to thank you for the planning and the effort that went into celebrating his birthday. twenty-three such an insignificant age to turn, but you put in effort like it wasn’t just a normal day.
by the time he was done catching up and promising to visit soon, it was dark outside. he took the time to sincerely thank all of his friends, and to tell them how grateful he was to have them in his life. expressing gratitude came easily to eunseok now, and he knew it caught all of his friends off guard. they jokes about how sweet eunseok was now during the final hug. eunseok only shrugged his shoulders before telling them to get home safe.
no matter how soft he closed the door, the tired hinges still creaked. eunseok joked about all the flaws in your apartment, and you two both made it a game to find the positive in the defects. the squeaky hinges were your first line of security, letting you know that someone was walking into your home. the creaky floorboards made a precious melody, the loud cast iron radiator was white noise. eunseok realized the leak in your ceiling by the couch that counted time was gone. the metal bucket that sat directly underneath the leak was gone too.
eunseok goes underneath it, smiling at the slightly discolored blotch that covers the hole.
“crafty.” eunseok says underneath his breath.
“is everyone gone?” you say.
your voice is gentler than eunseok’s. he can make his boom throuhg your apartment, but yours almost gets lost behind walls and closed doors. eunseok hears you regardless, letting you know it’s just you and him in the sanctuary you two built together.
eunseok clears the space between the living room and the door quickly, turning the knob to see you.
“can you bring me a piece of cake?” you quickly ask, much quieter than your previous sentence.
“sure baby.” eunseok says into the open crack of the door.
eunseok immediately turns towards the kitchen, walking to the counter where his half eaten cake sits. eunseok cuts you a piece of the cake using the butter knife that’s caked in frosting. he watches as it slices through each meticulous layer, acknowledging the fact it probably took you forever to make it. eunseok imagines about you in your cheesy apron, rereading the instructions on your phone a million times while he puts the slice on a tiny paper plate. the blue frosting matches the trim on the edges of the paper dish, and eunseok smiles again.
he heads for his bedroom door again, sucking the frosting off of his thumb before opening the door gently. he has to keep an eye on the plate, careful to not let the slice tip over the edge
“you patched the leak in the kitchen?” eunseok asks.
when eunseok looks up from the slice, he sees lit candles on the bedside table. eunseok sees you read your book in the center of the bed, trying so hard to be nonchalant about the cami top lingerie set you wear. you made sure to wear his favorite color, but whatever you decided to wear would’ve been his favorite. he nearly drops the piece as you set your book down and sit up against the headboard of the bed. you two look at eachother through the candlelit dimness and the the quickly building tension.
eunseok walks to the side of the bed closest to him. he’s so fast that the slice of cake falls on it’s side. eunseok is only paying attention to it enough to catch a chunk that detaches from it before it hits the floor.
eunseok wonders what’s going on inside of your mind as your eyes float between the piece of cake and his eyes. he watches you get on your knees, and bend over as your slow hand brushes past his leg to grab the handle of the bedside table. both your chests rise in anticipation as you open the drawer. you let eunseok see the assortment of toys he’s never seen before and a pair of cuffs that reflect light before you grab a lone candle.
eunseok comes closer when you beckon to him after lighting the candle on the small burning fire. he holds the leaning piece of cake between your two bodies and you use your other hand to manipulate the piece to sit upright. you’re messy on purpose, getting the blue and gray frosting on your fingers. he watches you clean the mess you made, sucking the frosting off of your index and middle finger after getting some on your lips. you hold his eye contact while you do this, and eunseok can see your cheeks hollow before you pull your fingers from your mouth.
“make a wish.” you say.
your words confuse him, and eunseok has to be reminded by your pointed eyes. his mind is still blank when he closes his eyes and blows out the candle quickly. you only laugh as you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees. he comes closer to you, so close that you have to tilt your head to see his face.
“what’d you wish for?” you ask innocently.
eunseok looks past the specks and smudges of blue frosting on your face, and how it matching your cami top. the silk cami is smooth on your body, absent of ruffles or wrinkles except where your erect nipples protrude outwards. its so subtle eunseok think he would miss it if the candlelight didn’t bounce off the shiny fabric.
“i forgot.” eunseok says absentmindedly.
“already?” you ask playfully.
eunseok nods his head obediently. something comes over him looking at you like this. the candlelight ignites your dewy skin, and catches on your glossy puckered lips. eunseok bends down to get closer to you mindlessly, like a moth to a flame.
eunseok lets you pull him in by the hands you have on his face. he feels your thumb that still had frosting paint his cheekbones. you bring him so close that he cant stop the edges of the cake from pressing to the bare skin of your chest. eunseok knows you can feel the cold frosting on your hot skin, but you pull away from him slowly before looking down. the perfect amount is smudged on your chest, directly above the valley of your breasts.
the view brings eunseok to his knees, and he carelessly puts the cake on the floor to free his hands. now it’s his turn to tilt his head up to look at you. you rest on your haunches and let your arms rest on eunseok’s shoulders. both of you stare at the smudge on your skin. when eunseok blows on the chilling frosting it causes goosebumps to erupt on your chest. you tilt your head to the side, and a hand reaches up to gently grab a handful of his hair.
“can you clean it up for me?” you ask.
your voice already sounds hoarse and eunseok is no better. he can only nod, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence. without wasting another second, eunseok brings his lips to your chest. his tongue comes out first, pressing it flat to your skin before licking up a majority of it. when you sigh and lean your head back it drives eunseok further. he turns his head to get a better angle and attaches his lips to your chest. he sucks harshly, even after the he no longer tastes the sweet frosting. his hands also creeped up your chest and kneads your breasts over the thin silk material of your camisole.
even when eunseok’s lips detach front your chest, his hands stay on your chest. he managed to move your top down just enough that the pigmented skin of your areola peaks out. eunseok looks up to you for permission, and when you nod your head, he attaches his lips to your exposed skin. he’s careful to not get spit or to stain your power blue camisole. your sighs are broken, and end with high-pitched whines. your grip on his hair tightens before you slightly tug. eunseok reluctantly lets go of your nipple, letting his tongue graze the skin before he’s out of reach.
eunseok is brought back to make eye contact with you. your eyes flicker quickly to his shirt, and eunseok sees that the slice of cake had smudged against his shirt. you pull your arms from his shoulder and walk backwards on the bed by your knees.
“take your shirt off.” you say once you make it to the center of the bed.
eunseok stands to take off his shirt, not caring if frosting gets in his hair from his haste. his shirt is followed by his pants and socks after your instructions. he’s left in his boxers while you stay in your lingerie. eunseok watches your hands rest on your thighs, how you rub your skin the same way he always does.
eunseok crawls on the bed until his nose touches yours. he doesn’t know why he’s waiting for you first, but he ignores it when your lips move forward.
he takes his time kissing you, situating himself on the bed while a hand on the small of your back brings you closer. you give in and eunseok smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue past your lips. he keeps leaning you forward and tilts his head while he guides your movements. when you moan into his moan eunseok’s dick jumps in his boxers. he can feel his tip press against the cotton fabric and how the fabric becomes cold when the air chills his precum.
before eunseok can lead you to lay your back on the bed, you exert physical and mental strength to break apart from him.
“lay down.” you say.
eunseok can’t stop his eyebrows from raising. the authority in your voice causes his dick to twitch in his pants. he’s hesitant at first, but lays back on the bed in the position he usually puts you in. you stay in your spot, letting your eyes rake down eunseok’s body. his muscles move underneath his skin, and his abs twitch each time the tent in his boxers move.
you quickly suck the remaining frosting off your thumb and eunseok has to manually blink. before he opens his eyes, he can feel three of your fingers trail down his body. it started on eunseok’s chest, the same spot where he left a forming bruise and ends at his waistline. he thinks for a moment you’ll pull down the waistband, but before he can lift his hips to help your eager hand reaches for him through his fly.
eunseok can’t stop himself from groaning and letting his jaw drop. he sees you looking down at him, and your hair frames your face perfectly as you smile smugly. eunseok has half the urge to play with the strands of your hair, but when you start slowly stroking him all thoughts leave his mind. he only knows your name and the short answers to your teasing questions.
“does it feel good?”
“want me to keep going?”
“want me to go faster?”
“can i take your boxers off?”
each answer to your question is a breathy yes with a head nod. eunseok looks down at the tent you two form together in his boxers. he pushes his waistband down, desperate to see the uncovered view.
when eunseok can see your fisted hand around his base, he lets expletives fall from his lips. he wasn’t usually this reckless. he prided himself in keeping his composure until the very end. but the view of you pleasing him always made him lose self-control a little faster. that compounded with how bossy you were being made eunseok already feel like he was close to cumming all over your hand and his abdomen.
eunseok is so desperate to feel you wrapped around him that he clutches at the thin strap of your top. but you are out of his reach as you trail down his body and slot yourself between his legs. eunseok props himself up on his elbows and runs his hand through his bangs to push it out of the way. he can feel the clumps of dried frosting comb through his fingers before he brings his hand back down.
“what are you doing?” he asks breathlessly.
he knows what you’re doing, or what you plan to do when he sees the determined glint in your eyes. you pull down his boxers without answering. neither of your say anything, only letting the sound of your heavy breaths and movement on the sheets fill the room. only a second passes between you throwing his boxers past the edge of the bed and you taking eunseok’s dick into his mouth. the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue causes eunseok to lift his hips off the bed and thrust into your mouth.
eunseok takes control when you gag on his length. he pulls himself out of your mouth by the base of his dick while you furrow your eyebrows at him.
“you surprised me baby,” eunseok wipes the spit from the corner of your lips “i’m sorry.” he apologizes.
you don’t listen to his apology, only placing your hand over his before guiding his dick back to your lips. you trace your bottom lip with the. eunseok shakes when he sees precum glisten on your lips, and how large his dick is in comparison to your face. he has to sigh and lean his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“you can be rough with me.” you say matter-of-factly.
eunseok looks away from the ceiling down to your eyes between his legs. he feels your hand hold the base of his dick, and when you have his attention eunseok feels you run your tongue along a vein. it takes you all the way up, where you place a sweet kiss on his tip. eunseok twitches in your hold and gasps quietly.
“you can fuck my face,” eunseok feels your warm lips kiss his tip again. “or pull my hair.” you say.
eunseok has to dig his nails in his hand to stop himself from thrusting up into your hand. it’s all so vulgar, the way you give him permission to wreck you so casually.
“don’t wanna.” eunseok says.
he did have nights where he fucked you into the mattress, not relenting until you were jelly in his hands and his thighs were shaking. sometimes something came over eunseok where he was admittedly mean to you in bed, spanking you until you were in tears and denying you orgasm after orgasm. but right now, he wanted nothing more than to lay you down and gently show you how grateful he was to have someone like you in his life.
eunseok wished you weren’t so giving, or so hard to look at in the eyes during times like this. when you audibly pout and drag a wet hand up his shaft eunseok lifts his back off the bed slightly.
“i can feel you getting harder the longer you think about it.” you deadpan.
eunseok has to shake his head to try and deny the facts
“‘cause i want to have sex with you,” eunseok hisses when you drag your hand back down to the base. “really nice and slow.” he sighs.
eunseok can feel your lips curl against the shaft of his dick to smile, and he can see your legs playfully kick in the air. eunseok wants to cover his eyes with his arm, maybe the pitch black would stop him from twitching in your hand so much and his face from getting so hot. but your other hand has a steady hold on his, and his other hand is too busy clenching a fist repeatedly.
“we have all night for that.” you blow cold air on his tip and eunseok hisses again. “we have all day tomorrow too, actually.” you say casually.
eunseok doesn’t know where this side of you came from. your sex life was very carefree. both of you agreed that assigning roles in bed was restrictive, and you were both so young that experimenting was a big part of intimacy. neither of you fell into roles, but more often than not eunseok ended up in charge, changing the positions to what he thought was most beneficial unless you requested something. but here you were slotted between his legs, calling all the shots and teasing him.
he let out another sigh, hoping you didn’t hear the shaking in his voice.
“can you put it back in your mouth?” eunseok asks pathetically.
you smile even bigger before kissing the tip again. you start slowly, beginning with his tip. you look up, seeing eunseok’s adam’s apple bob while his hands grip the sheets. eunseok has to look at you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. his elbow slide from underneath him and his groans when he can feel your nose touch his stomach.
“you’re so good at this.” eunseok says.
you stay there for a moment, and hollow out your cheeks. eunseok bites his bottom lip when you come back up.
your eyes already start becoming red, and you have to sniffle to stop your nose from running. eunseok thinks you look beautiful. your determined look softened to something more needy, and eunseok was sure his eyes mirrored yours. he lets one hand tangle in your hair and slowly guides you back down to take all of him.
“you got it” he encourages when you take a brief pause.
you nod with your mouthful of eunseok and grab his other hand. he interlaces your fingers with his. the hand in your hair is just for show—the pace and how deep you take him is entirely in your control. you squeeze his hand when you gag, and eunseok coos you assurances and compliments.
“your mouth is so perfect baby.”
“making me feel so good.”
“keep going.”
“you’re so pretty.”
eunseok can feel the vibrato of your moans come from the back of your throat each time he compliments you. the vibration makes his dick twitch in your mouth. his hips occasionally jump up, and each time you look at him begging for more.
eventually it’s eunseok squeezing your hand, warning you that he can’t hold his hips back anymore. you nod and move his hand to the other side of your face. you place steady and firm hands on his thighs, ready to push back if it becomes too much.
“can i?” eunseok asks, nearly shaking.
you nod and say something that is blocked by eunseok’s heavy dick in your mouth. he takes what he can, a hand tighten in your hair and he places a guiding hand on your cheek. he tilts your head and eunseok lifts your head all the way off his dick, until a nearly invisble string of spit connects his tip to your flat tongue. eunseok massages your throat, enticing you to loosen it before he pushes your head back down his dick. when your halfway there, his hips meet you the rest of the way. eunseok can feel himself against the back of your neck, and how your lips stretch around the root of his dick.
eunseok grips you there, and shakes your head so he can snuggly fit inside your tiny mouth. when you gag he pulls out and repeats the motion, until his hand holds your head in place and his hips take him all the way. eunseok wipes the tears from the corner of your eyes and lets his moans bounce off the tiny walls in your room. he’s sure of a noise complaint, or at the very least evil looks when he runs to someone in the mailroom. but eunseok doesn’t care when he turns your head and pushes halfway in until he presses your cheek as far as he’s comfortable with.
when eunseok places his hand over your soft cheek and feels the bulge of his dick press against his hand, he goes into a frenzy. the steady rhythm he has is ruined instantly when you look up at him and whine. he becomes fixated on stuffing half of his dick into your small mouth and the pain of your nails digging into his thighs. you don’t push back, and when eunseok looks down at your body he sees you grinding your hips against a balled up blanket.
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” eunseok lets one hand fall from your face to place it over your hand. “i’m close.” eunseok whimpers.
he’s rushing himself again, and he wishes he could slow down to enjoy the moment. but the burning in his thighs on pushes him quicker to the edge.
“where?” eunseok asks you quickly. when you control back, bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace eunseok sees stars “in your mouth?” he asks quickly.
all eunseok needed was a nod and murmur from you before he thrust his hips up one more time before stilling them. he can feel the sweet release, and how it drips down his length before your quick tongue swipes it up. he stays there, back slightly off the bed while he keeps giving you cum. your name and a million thank you’s and fuck’s slip past eunseok’s lips. when he thinks he’s down, you bring a gentle hand to massage his balls.
when eunseok is finally done and the last spurts go down your throat, he relaxes. it’s a full body relaxation, so much so that his lower back cracks in relief. he gives your every last drop, and you continue to bob your head up and down slowly even after there’s nothing left.
as fast as eunseok was cumming he is tender to the touch, instinctually laughing from the almost ticklish feeling of you continuing your ministrations. eunseok has to pull your head off his dick, but you start to pump his length slowly while you rest your head on his thigh to catch your breath. eunseok has to place a firm hand over yours and shake his head before you pull your tunnel vision from his dick to his pained expression.
“sorry.” you laugh and place one more kiss to his tip. “got carried away.” you say.
eunseok can only let out a light chuckle. the remaining last bit of his strength pulls you up from your spot between his legs to bring you in for a hug. you kiss him back with ease, like he wasn’t just using your mouth like his personal pocket pussy a few seconds ago. your tongue slips past his lips and you guide his hands to knead your breasts again. eunseok can’t let anything continue before he showers you with praise and appreciation for making his birthday so special. so he pulls away from you and distracts you by looking deep in your eyes softly. when he places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose you close your eyes. eunseok makes quick work of you, by the time your eyes are opened it’s him on top.
your pout is incredibly cute. eunseok laughs and kisses the creased skin on your forehead as your fucked out eyes try to scowl at him.
“don’t laugh at me.” you try to be angry, but eunseok sees the smile on your lips.
“let me make it up to you,” when eunseok sees you open your mouth to protest, he kisses your complaints away.
“it is my birthday after all.” eunseok says before kissing you again.
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Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.
“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.
“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.
“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.
“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.
“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”
“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.
“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”
“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”
“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.
“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”
Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.
“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”
Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.
“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.
“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.
“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.
“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.
“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”
“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”
“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”
“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.
“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.
“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.
“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”
Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.
“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”
“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.
“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.
This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.
#harringrove#ficlet#billy hargrove#steve harrington#jim hopper#hopper being a well meaning but slightly awkward dad has my heart#he'll tell this story at their wedding#as revenge for billy telling everyone that hop set him up#seriously though I have a dozen fics in progress rn#not one of them is harringrove#what's wrong with me
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some random nsfw + sfw jake sully hcs~
bc we all need derpy jake. and sexy jake. here u go 🤭
sfw~
• lovessssss massages. any kind, but always receiving them. if you ask, he'll give them to you, but he's more for lightly tracing your skin, or feeling you up as opposed to concerted massages
• but for jake? lie that 8ft catboy down, get massaging on his shoulderblades or thighs, and he's now pretty much putty in your hands. he'll agree to almost anything, and probably fall asleep before you're even done
• loves playing tag. he's a grown-ass na'vi, but also a delinquent who's still not over the concept of having working legs; so ask that boy to chase you and he'll get right on it
• he has a lot of surplus energy, so weaving through the thick undergrowth, batting away stray leaves and prancing between aged roots is his jam. he especially loves the little excited giggles you let out as you prance away, or the sound of your quickened heartbeat when he's sneaking up on you as you hide in some shrubbery, or behind a big tree trunk and let's not lie, this 100% leads to a good ole' playful fuck
• still spanks plants. he loves to see them glow or change shapes because in spite of the abs and daddie energy, jake's still a literal manchild
• is an avid big-talker. during conversations, or when you're in the midst of fixing a broken object or making a plan, jake'll absentmindedly interrupt with lowkey the dumbest advice or idea lmao.
• less so when he's in charge of the plan, bc then he's really in the headspace. but if he's sort of on the listening-side, he struggles a lot with not just blurting out random stuff that pops into his head
• it's because of his adhd vibe really; he can barely pay attention unless you're looking him dead in the eyes, so what he assumes is a great method is in actuality a half-baked response to about one third of the actual conversation you just had
• makes a little 'heheh' noise when he works out a problem. oddly, things like saving communities and flying an ikran don't stimulate this response; instead finally getting the knot right on his loincloth, fixing the end of his broken bow or squeezing through a super tight space between two thick roots will get him all giddy
• either eats fucking loads, or nibbles. some days he'll barely eat anything, but maybe sneak-eat some of your prepared meal while you're distracted
• other days jake'll go unusually quiet, disappear, and then come back with a huge bowl of food just to plop down and eat the entire thing in one sitting, barely batting an eye and then undoubtedly have a tummy ache bc guess what's not the vibe? eating 11 whole fruits in one sitting with no breaks
• can't for the life of him remember sacred omaticayan sayings when he needs to. he almost always needs you to remind him about 10-20 seconds max before he has to say them, or he forgets again; him blanking on the respectful greeting of a different clan leader has def happened at least twice lmao
• does a happy jig when he finds the right route back to your home. when you've been out all day hunting, foraging or just exploring, he'll ofc forget where you actually came from. and if you're not an instinctual navigator, you two will be lost for some time, ngl. but once he figures out where to go, he'll kick a foot or do a micro-jump at the victory
• once flew his ikran so fast that his eyepiece slipped over his eyes and nearly killed him and his dragon. he like bejewelled it with new things one time, and felt the need to brag about it but didn't account for the excess weight. after the ordeal he elected to never tell anyone this, but has since not worn the eyepiece again lmao
nsfw~
• is a sucker for cleavage. he dgaf about the size, but irrespective of the place, the energy or the amount of seconds between having just fucked, he's still getting like just-seen-tits-for-the-first-time kind of flustered; he actually won't make any remarks or anything, but he'll do the classic double-take and maybe smirk a bit bc innately he's still a doe-eyed perv
• def has a foot fetish; and now that he's a huge blue boy, it's only increased. bigger feet, better colors, and as a bonus, they glow now. you can expect him to lift a leg up mid-missionary thrust and begin leaving hot open-mouthed kisses to the arch of your foot; sliding his warm, wet tongue along each of the digits too, some desperate, chesty moans escaping his partially-open mouth
• jake's a bit slutty. it's not unusual to associate jake sully with the himbo cliche, of course. but even more than that is his inclination to being just a little bit more provocative than necessary in situations;
• letting out a wanton groan from merely opening a tightly-sealed object, sitting with his legs spread, usually a hand resting on his dick, loves to stick his tongue out and/or lick his lips when he's thinking, etc. the majority of it isn't even on purpose, he just happens to have these ticks and make these noises although some of it def is ofc; no one doesn't mean to moan if they do it while they yawn
• has sought out sex pollen to use for the both of you before. he was initially a bit hesitant, but once he realised that it wasn't some pandoran viagra, but rather magic mushrooms that also up the horny to 120%, he was more than down
• has a size kink; specifically with his dick, but anything turns him on if it's got a size difference - his broad blue chest, his large hands that rake up and down your smaller body, or maybe his toned thighs that flex underneath your aching pussy as you grind down onto him. but his dick is his favorite
• when you squeal and writhe underneath him because it's just too big, it only inflates his ego; unlike someone more sadistic or dominant, jake'll take his time in stretching you out and coaxing all of that slick wetness from your pussy, all the while smirking in amusement and delight at your squirming
• he'll leave little cock taps on your entrance, or smear his throbbing blue length along your lips, and rub his bulbous reddened tip onto your swollen clit in tight circles; all in aims to eventually bottom out inside your wet warmth and clenching walls
• moves around a lot when you have sex. not like, the usual thrusting kind of moving, but straight-up fidgeting. things like moving his hands, needing to readjust something, his hair getting in the way, or a cramp/something spiky underneath his back bothering him are all pretty common
• secretly wants you to play with his balls more often during oral. he's a lil shy bean sometimes, and will most often emphasise his preferences in bed, but outside is a different story really; he just rlly wants you to but doesn't want to pressure you
• one time on an especially fruity date in the forest, after having eaten picnic-style under a large willow-like tree, you just began to touch yourself. that wasn't even the best part; the best part for him was when you rubbed your pussy into the grass
• for some reason that really stuck with jake; just the innate sexuality and eroticism of it. seeing your hips gyrate into the soft blades, grass becoming glossy and almost sticking together from your arousal. it seemed so natural for you, that it begged the question - had you done this before?? and if so, how many times? and why had he not been privy to this until just now?
• that made him the hardest he'd been in a long time. ever since that sunny afternoon, jake kept it as a class A spankbank memory. so now when he's roughly tugging and fisting his thick, swollen blue cock right towards release, the thought of you writhing in front of him on that patch of lush, green grass pushes him to orgasm every time
hope u enjoyed lovelies!
#yesss i like this one!#lmk what u think#as it's a bit fluffier than usual :):):):))#jake sully x you#jake sully headcanons#jake sully smut#jake sully x reader#jake sully#miles quaritch x afab reader#mental miles spankbank#colonel miles quaritch#avatar miles quaritch#miles quaritch x reader#miles quaritch smut#miles quaritch#colonel catboy quaritch#recom quaritch#avatar recom quaritch#avatar x reader#na'vi x reader#na'vi smut#avatar smut#cuethediscoandthedrinks
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I Wish I Hated You (Levi Ackerman x Reader)
story summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?
ao3
C H A P T E R E I G H T : T O M O R R O W
WARNING: explicit scenes in this chapter!! let me know what you think :)
Levi lead you into his living room that you were all too familiar with. His expression was... blank. You couldn't tell if he was sad, mad, or anything in between.
You sit on the couch opposite to the chair he's sitting in. "Levi, I-"
"You should know this," Levi looks down. "I'm not the best at... well, talking. My mother is someone who was... so special to me."
"Levi." You press your hand on top of his. "I'm here to listen."
Levi sighs as he sits back in his chair. "My mother and I grew up poor. Like, dirt poor." Levi started talking. It feels like it's been forever since you and him had an actual conversation instead of just arguing. "We were couch surfing and squatting in abandoned houses. Then, she got sick. We don't know what it was since we couldn't afford to go to a doctor. We couldn't even afford food. I was starving every day. Dreaming of bread." Levi looks down. "One day, she wouldn't even attempt to get out of bed. Or even talk to me. I remember her telling me about her brother, my uncle, and I had his phone number written down. I begged the corner store to let me use their phone, and thankfully they let me."
Your heart sinks thinking of how lonely Levi felt. How he was lacking basic needs.
"I called Kenny and he came and stayed with my mother during her last moments. I stood on the other side of her with my hand in hers. I remember her saying, 'Kenny, please take care of my Levi.' The pressure I was feeling from her hand suddenly just... disappeared. My mother's body was still there, but her soul was gone."
Tears start to well up in your eyes. Levi's eyes were glued to the floor as he spoke, his deep voice cracking when he spoke of the final moments with his mother.
"Then I went and lived with Kenny. Which... wasn't the best either. He fed me, but he wanted me to learn to fend for myself. I would cause fights in school and Kenny had to beg them to let me stay." Levi cleared his throat. "He didn't know how to be a parent. I don't blame him. His sister died and left behind me. My father, who the hell knows who he is - Kenny felt he had no choice. But he did have a choice. He could've just-"
"Levi, he could not just leave you."
"He could've."
"But he didn't. You're his nephew, I'm sure he saw you and saw some of himself."
"Well, when I turned 18, he left. He told me I was an adult now and I had to figure life out. I was being... well, to put it lightly, a delinquent when I met Erwin. He's a tall, well kept man and I wanted to steal from him. He looked like he had money so he was the perfect target. For whatever reason, he wanted to be my friend. He's been in my life ever since." Levi finally looked at you. "He opened his home to me. He fed me. He taught me the ways of being a business man."
You didn't know how deep Erwin and Levi's friendship was. They're bonded brothers.
His mother left, Kenny left - no wonder he likes to leave. Must be an Ackerman thing.
You stared into Levi's eyes - watching the storm brew. Your heart sank as you explored his face, your feelings for him resurfacing.
"Now you know why I am the way I am." Levi put his hands on his knees. "I don't blame you if you want to leave."
"Levi." You walk over to his chair, slowly sitting on his lap. "Do you want me to leave?" You gently wrap your arms around him.
"I think you want to -"
"Answer my question." You grab his chin, pulling his face towards you. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No." Levi shook his head. "I never want you to leave."
You felt like there was life brought back to you. The piece of your heart that broke off when you left Levi mended back to you.
"We have to start over then." You caress his face gently. You wanted to just hold him during this vulnerable moment. "Like, we're going on dates. Almost like we were never together."
"Hm?" Levi tilted his head. "But we did date... for 2 years."
"Levi. Do you want to make this work or no?"
"I do."
"Then we're starting over. I don't want us to jump back into this and make the same mistakes."
Levi nods, letting his hand rest on your thigh. "Are you sure you don't want to leave? I'm giving you an out."
"Levi Ackerman." Theres attitude in your voice. "If I wanted to leave, I would. I have before - remember?"
"I'm sorry I made you leave."
"Shhh." You pull Levi into your chest, letting him lean on you. You felt his eyelashes flutter on your skin as he closed his eyes. His breath is slow and you know he's listening to your heartbeat. He's always loved cuddling in your chest and feeling your beating heart. Levi starts to bury his face in your breasts, his hands traveling up to your waist.
"Hey," You giggle as Levi grabs your left breast with his large hand. "Levi, this isn't the right time to be-"
"Sh." Levi demanded. His fingers pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your plump breasts. They bounced as they were released from the captivity of your shirt and Levi is mesmerized. He brought his lips to your right tit, sucking on your skin roughly as he squeezed the other. You throw your head back at the contact. Levi has always loved your chest and he likes to take his time there when he can.
"This isn't a part of starting over." You breathe.
"We can start over tomorrow." Levi mumbled as he unclipped your bra without looking. His mouth attached to your nipple, sucking it gently. You feel the wetness in your pants already as Levi sucks, bites, and licks all over your tits.
Levi sits you on the chair, his large hands trailing down your upper body to the buttons of your jeans. He's on his knees now as he pulls your pants off, throwing them across the room. "My favorites." Levi hums at the sight of your black lace panties. "Too bad they're coming off." Levi almost rips the panties off of you, revealing your soaked pussy.
He marvels for a moment, watching your arousal leak from you. You throw your head back as your core starts to throb. "Levi-" He cuts you off by inserting his tongue inside you. You gasp as you feel his tongue exploring your pussy, finding your clit soon after. Levi wraps his hands around your thighs as he devours you, his lips squelching against your core.
Levi wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as he inserts two fingers into you. You bury your hands in his hair, pushing his face farther into you. You felt him smile as you pulled on his hair, something he's always loved. He pumped his fingers in and out of you quickly while his mouth was solely focused on your clit.
"I could eat this pussy all day." Levi hummed, the vibration from his words only adding to your pleasure. "This pretty little pussy."
"Levi." You moan, wrapping your legs around him as your toes begin to curl.
"I love when you moan my name." His fingers started to pump faster as your walls began to pulsate. "Can you come on my fingers, princess?"
You nod silently as you feel the high quickly approaching. Your chest feels tight as the world begins to fade away, leaving only you and Levi. His tongue lapped your dripping arousal as you reached your high. Levi doesn't stop though, he keeps sucking on your clit until he wants to be done. You came on his fingers, his mouth - practically his entire face.
"Levi, I need you inside of me." You whine.
"You want my cock inside of you, my princess?"
"God, yes." You nod. Levi's mouth leaves your pussy and he picks you up and lays you on the couch gently. His shirt is off quickly, along with his belt and pants.
You watch his cock spring out of his pants. Every time you see it, you're mesmerized.
"Are you sure?"
"We'll start over tomorrow." You nod a Levi's arms are on either side of you. You feel the tip of his cock at your slit, easily sliding in due to your arousal. Levi lets out a husky moan as he feels your gummy walls wrapping around his cock.
"You were made for me." Levi starts thrusting into you. "This pussy fits me so perfectly."
"Baby, it's all yours." You stare into Levi's eyes. He presses his lips to yours roughly, leaving sloppy kisses as he thrusts inside you faster. You wrap your arms around his neck as he watches his length disappear inside of you, stretching your walls. You'll never get used to his size, no matter how many times you fuck.
"Princess, I need you to come again. Before me." Levi grunted as he slammed into you. He attaches his lips to the side of your neck, biting and sucking until your skin is purple. He then brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing it gently.
You throw your head back, feeling your walls pulsate once again. Levi's thrusts start to become uneven as he feels you grip him, which means he's close.
"I'm not coming before you." Levi rubs circles on your clit. Your toes curl as Levi is almost overstimulating you - but that high comes back.
"Levi." You practically yell as the hardest high of your life hits you. You see stars as Levi slams into you again and again.
"Where should I come?" Levi whispered.
"Inside." You whisper in his ear, which causes him to lose all the control he had left. He coats your insides with him as he comes, gripping your hips tightly. Levi fills you up with his cum and somehow there is still more.
Levi pulled out slowly and you whine at the now void. He pulls his pants on and grabbing a towel from his hallway closet and helping you clean up.
"So... tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." You press your lips to his gently, letting your worries melt away.
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman smut#levi ackerman fanfic#attack on titan#aot#levi ackerman attack on titan
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hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?
𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !
but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).
𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫
《 ♡ 》 headcannons
───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :
you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :
fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns
𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :
season one (total drama island)
𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :
harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────
When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).
And then, they did😃.
Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...
And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.
How could this get any worse?
Duncan. That's how.
He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.
But other than that...
"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"
"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."
"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"
...you were firm on your dislike for him.
Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.
Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...
I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.
Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.
Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.
He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.
"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"
"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."
"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"
But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.
"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."
"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."
"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"
Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...
Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.
And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.
All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.
And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.
He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:
" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."
As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.
#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.
OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...
"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"
"I'm busy-"
"Now."
. . .
No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.
Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?
If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.
"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."
I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...
𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!
this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
none :(
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :
anon <3
𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :
#fanfic#x reader#y/n#total drama x reader#total drama fandom#total drama fanfiction#total drama#total drama action#total drama island#tdi#tdi duncan#total drama duncan#total drama island duncan#theyluvlyss#tdi duncan x reader#duncan x reader#td duncan#td#total drama island x reader#total drama duncan x reader#duncan x y/n#tdi duncan x y/n#anon#anon ask#anon request#anon response#anon reply
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Home. (ALT ENDING) || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley
Rating: M
Words: 3K (this one got away from me, sorry)
Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader
Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other…
CW: mentions of psychological issues, mentions of self-harm, mentions of therapy
Tags: you/your pronouns, hurt/comfort, ANGST, forgiveness, catharsis.
a/n: not proofread. THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING. I'M STILL NOT HAPPY WITH IT, BUT IT IS WHAT IT IS.
[FIC MASTERLIST] || [MY MASTERLIST]
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Anyone would say that Simon Riley is good.
Good company for going out drinking.
A good partner for duos in training.
A good shot.
A good soldier.
A good candidate.
A good recruit.
A good lad.
But Simon would say he’s a bad, bad man.
Even before he took this job.
Destined to rot from the inside out.
To become the things he’s promised himself to not ever become.
Finding a way out of home, out of the trauma, only works if some of it is not already inside of you.
Slowly eating you up.
Ever-lasting.
All-consuming.
That’s what Simon figured out in the last 15 years.
Grief.
Depression.
Rage.
Antisocial tendencies.
Psychopathy.
PTSD.
Compartmentalization of emotions and trauma.
Tendencies for self-harm and self-sabotage.
Fear of vulnerability.
Trust issues.
An inclination for isolation.
A past muddled by juvenile delinquency and early drug and alcohol use.
An avoidant attachment style in any relationships he attempts to form due to an inability to truly connect with others.
An identity crisis stemming from low self-worth and a disturbed self-image.
The list goes on.
Simon would say he’s got it all under control.
But any Army-appointed psychiatrist would disagree.
And he’s too valuable of an asset to let go of…
Just the ‘depression’ diagnosis would land the average soldier on a watchlist and the ‘tendencies to self-harm’ would get anyone a medical discharge and interned into a psych ward.
Thank God Simon’s not the average soldier.
Price has been pulling strings to keep him around, calling in favors to people for his sake and getting people to turn a blind eye to the fact Simon Riley has not gone to a single routine psych check in the better part of a decade.
In exchange, however, that forced Simon to take a deal with Price and instead see an off-site psych expert. A friend of Price’s, a retired psychiatrist who has no way of getting him discharged.
As such, every time he goes on leave he drives some 4 or so hours from Hereford to a small village in Cumbria up north to see her. He always spends the first week of his leave there, in a chalet right smack in the middle of the Lake District National Park… It’s peaceful and nice. Over those 5 to 7 days, he talks about anything and everything.
At first he hated it, but with time, it did bring him clarity on a lot of his issues without any sort of danger or judgement. In her words, Dr. Armstrong had been dealing with John’s shit for “far too long”, and nothing Simon would tell her would make a dent on the appalling things she’s heard… And true to her word, Simon hadn’t spotted any shock or discomfort in her, even as he spoke of some utterly vile things.
She made him feel heard, understood, welcome… alive, even if more often than not he didn’t quite feel human. He always came in the door like the ghost of his moniker, a shadow, with steps too hard, body too stiff, breathing too tense, eyes too sharp… And left with an ease and lightness uncharacteristic to someone like him… Dr. Armstrong unraveled all the damage during those 5 to 7 grueling days… Only for him return to base and begin the process of hardening himself once again.
He’s thirty-three, you’re thirty-two today.
He dragged himself out of the comfortable bed in the guest house nearby to the chalet, and threw on a hoodie and some slides before he ventured out to the main house across the stepping stone walkway and into the house through the sliding glass doors.
Dr. Armstrong was already at the breakfast nook in the kitchen when he came in. She’s not quite gone gray, but she’s getting there. Her face is steadily getting more wrinkled compared to 10 years ago when this started. She’s wearing a light blue robe and a set of warm pajamas. Her hair cut into a pixie à la Judi Dench. “Good morning, Simon.”
Simon, meanwhile, is all disheveled, hair sticking up from having just woken up, face peppered with a 5 o’clock shadow, eyes still crusty and face unwashed. “Mornin’.” He grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea and popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
“How did you sleep?” She asked him as she regarded him over her green-frame reading glasses, which adorned the tip of her nose. She took a sip of a black mug with a cat’s whiskers drawn in it in white.
“Same as usual…” He replied as he stirred some milk into his tea. He grabbed the plain toasted bread and plopped it into a plate and began to turn to join her at the table when she set down her tea mug and leaned her elbows on the table, giving him a pointed look with a cocked brow.
Holding back a groan akin to a moody teenage boy’s, he set down the plate and cuppa, and grabbed some butter and a knife, spreading it over the toasted bread. He was thankful that Dr. Armstrong forced him to take care of himself, he was… But it doesn’t mean he was happy about it. “How did you sleep?” He returned.
“Slept well, thank you.” She replied and kept a stern watch over him as he reached the fridge and grabbed a yogurt and a small box of raspberries. He poured the yogurt into a bowl, topped it with the fruit and a drizzle of honey from the bowl in the corner of the counter, and then took his slightly more nutritious meal to the table.
She watched him closely as he began to eat his buttered toast, letting him have a moment of stewing in the ‘forced’ meal. She took off her glasses, folding them shut, and set them aside, along with her tablet, and stared at him.
In a way, Simon was more of a son than a patient to her, after so many years helping undo the damage the military and his childhood wracked on his head. He looked forward to the routine, needed it, so much that if he didn’t have these moments with her as often as he had grown accustomed to, he’d start acting a bit erratic. A bit more prone to violence, a bit harder to contain, a bit harder for John to keep a handle on. “What’s on your mind this morning?” She asked him with a cocked brow.
He finished his toasted and wiped his mouth. Then he started toying with the spoon resting on the edge of his yogurt bowl. “That it’s a bad week to be here.” He told her.
“And why is it a bad week, Simon?” She asked him as she leaned her head on her palm.
“There was this girl,” He began to say before he spooned some yogurt into his mouth. He had long stopped wearing a mask while staying over at Dr. Armstrong’s house. His scars were always on display for her to see. “who I grew up with. Her birthday is this week.”
The older woman nodded her head as she watched him closely. “I see. And… this ‘girl’... Was she a friend? A girlfriend?”
“I guess.” Simon said as he ate another spoon of yogurt, brown eyes lowered and focused on the red raspberries suspended atop the fatty yogurt. “We were like…” He trailed off. “She was… erm…” He stopped again and exhaled through his nose.
“I see.” The doctor said as she kept watching him. He kept eating quietly. “And… I assume you don’t talk to her anymore?” She asked.
“No.” Simon replied. “After I joined the Army, she moved away from Manchester and we lost contact.” He said softly.
“Do you still think about it?” She asked him. “About her?”
“Sometimes.” He admitted as he stirred his spoon in his bowl before sighing again and eating another spoonful. “A few times a year… Around her birthday, and mine. And Christmas… And the anniversary of the day we met…” He listed.
“And how does it feel…? Nice? Sad? Bittersweet?” She trailed off, knowing sometimes Simon needed help verbalizing his emotions.
“Sad.” He replied bluntly and ate a couple of spoonfuls of yogurt in a row before pushing the now empty bowl aside with the spoon resting inside of it.
“And cruel.” The woman watched as he rolled his shoulders, a bit tense, and raised his irises to look at her, eyes softened. “It’s been 15 years since she left Manc, left me and I-” He trailed off.
Looking away, he kept talking, and talking. “I still think about her. I think I’m okay, I think I’m doing good, doing better, and then those dates come and I’m reminded that she exists, that she’s out there, that she… that she went off and found herself a place and I’m here, and have nothing to show for it, just some stupid fucking medals pinned to the breast of my suit and blood on my hands that doesn’t wash off in the fucking sink.” He hissed bitterly, his eyes unfocused as he poured it all out.
“She was like me. We did everything together, were basically attached at the hip. She was my partner in crime, like a home away from home. Sure, dad beat me and mum, and scared us all and I’m much better now and I’ve grown up, but nothing feels okay. Nothing feels normal or good. It’s all just… just bullshit!” He hissed, his breathing beginning to grow faster. “I go through the motions but I don’t feel okay, I don’t feel safe.” He turned his head away from Doctor Armstrong.
“The last time I felt safe I was in her arms, looking into her eyes and telling her that I loved her for the first time and making all these promises for a future that didn’t happen. A future I stole from the two of us.” He grumbled. “And the worst part is that I used to blame her for leaving, for seeking out a better life, a better place! Maybe I still blame her… But it’s not her fault. It’s really not.” Simon’s eyes began to water in a way they never have before.
“It’s all my fault. There’s no one to blame but me. The last conversation we had was a stupid fucking argument where I looked her in the eyes, the girl I loved, and told her to stop relying on me… She was looking to me for help, to get her out, to get us both somewhere safe…” He stopped and pressed his lips together to contain a sob. His eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I was going to marry her.” He confessed and groaned. “I came back from Aghanistan and bought a ring, because while I was out there, with bullets whizzing past me and watching my brothers in arms fall like flies, all I wanted was to do was go back to her… And I was completely expecting her to be there… To be waiting for me…” He trailed off. “After I broke her heart and told her to leave… I… I somehow expected her to have been weak… to have stayed. And she was strong enough to leave.” He nodded as he pondered on it.
“And the worst part is that I want to know what happened to her. I want…” He trailed off. “I know it’s been so long and she probably doesn’t think about me and even if she did, she wouldn’t want to ever step foot anywhere near her and it’s not like I want to see her, or to meet with her or to… I don’t know, pick up where we left off?” He ranted more and more. “I just… I want to know she’s okay, I want to know she’s alive. I pray every year that she didn’t turn to hard drugs and die of an overdose on a street corner somewhere… I…” He trailed off. “I need her to be alive and healthy and safe and… happy.”
Doctor Armstrong’s eyes softened as a lightbulb went off in her head. She had finally found the genesis to most of Simon’s issues. The grief of the past, the depression, the antisocial tendencies, his propenture for isolation, his fear of vulnerability, his trust issues, his inability to truly connect with others, the avoidant attachment style to any relationships he does attempt to have…
It was because he was attached to her, whoever this girl he spoke of was. He grieved her, he missed her, he couldn’t pursue a meaningful relationship when he had lost such a deep one… A relationship, an attachment, formed through trauma, unhealthy, sure, but one that resulted in a bond. Any attempts of his to ‘move on’ felt wrong and soured quickly. And until now she couldn’t figure out why that was… thinking he just kept unhealthily self-sabotaging… until now.
That morning was a first in many ways. Simon was speaking unprompted, Simon was voicing his emotions, Simon was confronting his past, Simon was admitting to his mistakes, Simon was expressing his wants. He was not just opening up, but he was actively prioritizing his wants, his feelings… It was huge for someone whose sense of self was as skewed as Simon’s.
It only took ten years… But they were making progress.
-
‘You just have to write her a letter, Simon. Let her know you don’t mean to impose on her life, but that you simple hope she’s doing well, thank her for having been part of your life. Keep it simple, concise. You can do that.’
Dr. Armstrong severely underestimated Simon’s ability to follow her request. Granted, most of the time he follows them no problem… But when it comes to you? Yikes.
‘Simple, concise’ became 38 and a half pages. None of it proofread. He felt like he passed out and when he woke up he had 38 pages of straight up gibberish, half-baked thoughts and equally half-baked pages. He doesn’t even remember what the fuck he wrote (probably because he was drunk and high, his first time smoking in 15 years).
Trying to read it gave him a headache, so he just transfered it into a Word document, the only file in an all-black slide-out USB drive, and stuffed the USB and a note saying ‘From Simon Riley’ into an envelope. He didn’t even dare send it himself. He simply dropped it off in the mail-out box at base and and called it a day.
That was 3 months ago.
As he lays in bed after dinner, he silently hopes to God that you’re ignoring him and tossed out the USB drive without even reading the mess of text in it… Or even that the address Laswell’s analysts found for you in Scotland was wrong.
But he also can’t bear to imagine someone else opening the envelope, checking the USB drive and finding that letter and-
A buzzing awakes him from his thoughts and he looks across the room to his phone which is charging on his desk in the corner. He moves across the room swiftly, finding a number he doesn’t recognize has sent him a text.
It has to be you. He’s careful with his number, he doesn’t give it out willy-nilly. Only Price, Laswell and Nik have it. And you, since he included it in the document.
Taking a deep breath, he clicks the text on the screen, his brown eyes screwing shut as if it was about to explode. Or maybe it was just his heart racing that made him feel that.
He was afraid.
Simon Riley was afraid.
The Ghost wouldn’t protect him now.
Not from you.
Or, rather, not for the way Simon might react when it comes to you.
Deep breaths, Simon told himself.
Deep breaths.
In…
… and out.
Throwing open his eyes, he looked at the screen, finding one tiny little paragraph in the bright green chat bubble:
hi riley… read your letter a bunch of times… truth be told i didnt know how to answer it, been trying to find what to say for weeks on weeks now and coming up short. if ur free anytime soon can we just have a call over the phone? might be easier. if not then im glad to hear ur fine and that u found success x
Simon reads and rereads your text over and over and over…
And then something in him snaps. He clicks the phone button next to your unsaved contact and then stares at the screen, eyes wide and frantic, not even considering that you might not be ready, that you might be busy, that you asked for ‘one of these days’ and not ‘right now’...
The call connects.
Simon holds his breath.
And so do you, he can hear your little gasp.
The counter at the top of the screen ticks by.
00:01
00:02
00:03
00:04
00:05
00:06
00:07
00:08
00:09
00:10
00:11
00:12
00:13
00:14
00:15
Simon’s eyes begin to well up with tears, he can hear your breath on the other side, but he’s too much of a coward to say anything.
00:16
00:17
00:18
00:19
00:20
00:21
00:22
00:23
Thank God that you’re not.
You’ve always been stronger than him.
“Riley?” You whisper his name.
Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth to speak… But all that escapes him is a stupid little “Hm?”
You pause again, your breath catching in your throat again… before you say it:
“I forgive you.”
His world nearly collapses at that moment and a sob escapes him, a sound so pathetic and weak that he wants to beat himself over it before Dr. Armstrong’s words ring in his head:
‘You can’t keep suppressing your emotions, it’s okay to cry.’
And so he does. He sobs, audibly so, big fat tears running down his face as he lets his back hit the wall and slide down it until he’s sat on the floor.
“Riley…” You whimper, and it sounds like you’re on the verge of crying as well.
He doesn’t want to make you cry. He really doesn’t…
But he can’t stop…
For the first time in forever, he feels exactly the one thing Dr. Armstrong has told him he deserves to feel:
At peace.
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[FIC MASTERLIST] || [MY MASTERLIST]
TAGGING ANYONE WHO READ/COMMENTED THE FIC (there's only like... 10 of you total, I'm so sorry)
taglist: @iite-cool , @spicyspicyliving , @lyralein , @heavenlyrivers , @depressed-but-make-it-cute , @myhomeworksnotdone , @captainquake42 , @waiting-so-long , @erensonly , @pieckyghost
Thank you so much for reading this fic, to the people who've read it here and on AO3! Your support mean the world to me!
#ikea writes 💚#home cbf!simon fic#cod fanfic#tw psychological issues#psych diagnosis#time skip#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#childhood best friends to lovers#cbf#cbf!simon#teenage love#masterlist#catharsis
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Ace, Lilia: Be Not Deceived
OH???? 👁️ One of the paintings in the background is the Ace of Hearts card soldiers… Does this mean we’ll get to see the actual character inspos for each boy, even the obscure ones like Jack and Sebek??? Will we finally solve a 3+ year long mystery??????? 🔍
… Also, not Ace casually wanting to go to karaoke with Scar 😭 (Funny, cuz he was denied hearing L*ona sing during Endless Halloween Night.) Figures that Ace would be the best at singing of the first years, the others are just no competition…
A Tale as Old as Time.
Not every work of art had a seriousness about it. In fact, Ace preferred to ogle the sillier pieces, finding solace in the nonsense and the chaos of them.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his finely tailored slacks, he found himself entranced by a bed of oysters. They were pried open, one half of their shells propped up to resemble bonnets. Their fleshy, round faces were still drowsy from sleep.
Little babies, the whole lot of them.
“My, you’ve taken quite an interest in that painting. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.” The remark came from Lilia, who curiously peered over at Ace from one side. “Have you an interest in oysters?”
“Nah, can’t stand’m. Especially raw,” he replied. “I was just thinkin’ of something I heard from back home."
“Oh?" Lilia’s large eyes glittered with a keen interest. “Now this I must hear.”
“It’s not really that interesting.” Ace shrugged. “A walrus dressed up in a suit to wine and dine a bunch of oysters—but the punchline is, instead of being taken out to dinner, the oysters are the walrus’s dinner! We have a Walrus-brand oyster sauce in the Queendom of Roses that gets its name from that story."
“Kufufu, I see! What a fascinating origin," Lilia mused. "It's a cautionary tale to not trust strangers. It brings to mind warnings to be wary of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”
"I guess so? The walrus looked nice at first glance, but he basically robbed a cradle. Seriously, who'd actually go and kidnap a baby like that? It’s just an exaggerated story to scare gullible kids into acting straight.”
Lilia's mouth adopted a mysterious, knowing smile.
"Oh, you'd be surprised!" he chuckled softly. "You never know when a big, bad monster might come in the night to steal you away from your family."
There was an eerie intenseness behind his every word, the magenta of his irises darkening to match. A shiver bolted down Ace’s spine. Lilia, too, was a creature of that very night that threatened to consume him.
"Y-Yeesh, you're freakin' me out, Lilia-senpai” Ace jokingly shoved his upperclassman. His fear had been fleeting, easily chased off with a laugh. “Don't say scary stuff like that. Halloween isn't for like another whole month!"
“Oopsie~ Perhaps I’m a little overeager.”
“I’ll say.” Ace rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forget how weird you can be.”
“What, you don’t think someone as adorable as me could possibly be capable of committing a war crime or two?” Lilia grinned. “I’m not entirely innocent, you know.”
“You definitely wouldn’t be able to pull off any war crimes though!! You just act way different than your looks would suggest.” Ace rapped his knuckles on the wall beside the framed oysters. “Like the lying walrus.”
“Do you think I’m a lying walrus?” The question was teasing.
“Everyone is. There’s plenty of them in Heartslabyul too.” Ace counted off on his fingers.
“Loosey Deucy comes off like a straight-laced honors student, but he’s an ex-delinquent and dumb as a rock. Cater-senpai looks flashy and friendly, but he’ll trick you into doing his chores and leave you hanging. Trey-senpai’s got his weird teeth hobby… and then there’s Riddle-ryocho, who has a babyface but throws fits like an active volcano!!
“The Great Seven had parts of themselves that were surprising too. No one would think the King of Beasts would be the type of guy to be belt out a song, but he still did. That’s what moved the hyenas to join his cause. It just goes to show that you really can’t judge a book by its cover.”
"A good takeaway from the tale," Lilia agreed. "Taking the morals of a story to heart... you're very clever, Ace."
"The cleverest." He cheekily stuck out his tongue.
The knowing smile suddenly returned to Lilia's face. "I'm sure you have a wicked side to yourself as well. As you've said, we all have a bit of the lying walrus in us."
"No way, miss me with that. I’m the poor, helpless victim,” Ace grumbled, rubbing at his neck. It had stiffened considerably at the memory of his skin chaffing. “Haaah, if only I wasn't bullied so much by my dorm leader~"
"By Riddle?" Lilia smirked a little. "His temper is rather infamous. Silver and Sebek are his club mates. I've heard of Riddle's rage.”
"Dude, you don't know the half of it. He's always nagging me one way or another, and if I don't listen... BAM!
"'Off with Your Head'!!" Ace scrunched up his face in a show of pretend anger and pantomimed casting a spell by wiggling his fingers. The voice he adopted was elegant, yet arrogant—a replica of Riddle's. "Now you sit there and think about what you've done, Ace! The collar comes off when you've repented."
He fell back with a groan, Lilia's amused chuckle accompanying him in the otherwise quiet museum.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up while you still can."
From the corner of his eye, Ace spotted the oysters again. The entire bed, a colony of easily deceived infants. Unaware of the world and its eager, snapping jaws—the jaws of a well-dressed walrus.
“Guess a smile and a snazzy suit is all it takes to get people to waltz right into a trap, huh? With the right looks and attitude, even a villain can be made to pass as a hero.”
Ace tugged at the silver sash slung across his torso, drinking in the details of his luxurious platinum suit. A bow tie, a vest, a jacket with trailing coattails. Shining fabric, pure and unblemished.
He was all dressed up, with nowhere to go. Only lies to tell.
“You make for a good hero,” Lilia offered, “with that winsome charm and cheer of yours. Ah, but that’s not all. It never is. These old eyes can’t be deceived.”
“Whaaat? I can’t believe you’d side with Riddle over me. I’m being unfairly ganged up on here!! Aaah, my senpai are so mean to me…!”
His laments echoed off the cavernous rooms of the museum. Mere whining of a high school boy against the backdrop of great figures and illustrious history.
He was small, one little white lie against a sea of them.
“… Juuust kidding.”
Ace turned away, a wink thrown playfully at the painting of the oysters before their very doom.
As if anyone would believe that.
#Ace Trappola#Lilia Vanrouge#twisted wonderland#twst#twst imagines#twisted wonderland imagines#disney twisted wonderland#spoilers#something no one asked for#Ace birthday takeover#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland scenarios
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Going Home: Chapter 4
Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling
Masterlist
Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3
I kept my promise!! Editing tmr, I'm dead on my feet rn
The neighborhood that Takemichi and Naoto found themselves in was a far cry from the dazzling city lights of Shibuya City that Draken once called home: a suburb outside of the bustling city, where houses and apartments alike that lined the streets as far as the eye can see with the occasional shop breaking the facade. Yet even with the shop entrance nestled off on a side alley, the roads still noticeably buzzed with life as the time drew closer to noon, the hustle and bustle of non-stop traffic and office workers swarming through town that Takemichi remembered had instead been replaced smaller, livelier groups of students filing past with nay a glance at the duo, too caught up in their chatter and gossip of the day.
It was jarring, the former Toman member had to admit, watching the rest of the world go by uncaringly at its own relaxed pace when compared against the urgency of the sticky situation he was in the midst of. Whatever time he spent in the present was time that he couldn’t spend twelve years in the past fixing the future after all. Blue eyes nervously glanced around at every passing soul, before they turned to meet gray ones for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure this is the right place?” The former delinquent asked again, anxiously wringing his hands. He couldn’t help himself, even if Naoto’s sympathetic look had long given way to an annoyed frown. “Maybe we should ring again?”
"No, just give it a minute."
Something felt wrong, yet this ordinary bike shop was precisely where the detective’s digging had pointed him too, the name on the business license unmistakable. So why did it feel so strange? So out-of-place? Takemichi glanced at the shop sign again, the unlit signboard ominously looming over the small alley.
The questions quickly faded as footsteps started to thunder down what must have been a flight of steps after the doorbell announced their presence outside the nondescript motorcycle shop, the sound of annoyed mumbling growing louder as the footsteps approached. Takemichi held his breath. The door rattled for a brief moment before it was yanked open.
"What?"
The single word was growled out before the figure behind the door was fully visible, and Takemichi’s soul nearly left his body as he came face to face with a clearly pissed off Draken. The former Vice Captain of Toman had only grown taller and more intimidating with every passed year, and now twelve years in the future, he made for one formidable figure, blond hair now back to its natural black. A minute of silence as Draken looked between the two, before recognition sparked behind those abyss eyes. “Takemichi?”
“It’s me,” was all said man managed to squeak back.
Letting out a sigh, the bike mechanic dressed in overalls visibly relaxed, the hand clutching a wrench dropping to hang loosely by his side. “It’s been years.”
"It has been," Takemichi nervously laughed, before waving over to a very calm Naoto. “This is Naoto, a friend of mine.”
"So what do the two of you want?"
Straight to the point huh. The time leaper took a gulp of air, steeling his nerves. “W-well, um, Draken-kun, we actually wanted to ask about the… seventh founding member of Toman.” They wanted to ask about you was, what Takemichi wanted to say, but all those instances of being drilled again and again by Chifuyu to avoid saying your name at all costs twelve years ago stopped his heavy tongue from spitting it out.
Another pause as the larger man stared him down, and this time, the stillness was palpable. Takemichi could feel the sweat rolling down the side of his head, waiting for a reaction. His gut only churned more. This was not good,
Quicker than he could see, the next thing the time traveller could process was him being lifted cleanly off the ground by the front of his shirt, his face suddenly leveled with a furious Draken’s. “What?” The Toman founder hissed, the vein on his forehead throbbing. “Wanna repeat that?”
Fuck.
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Slamming the door shut behind him, the once-Toman Vice President cursed under his breath as he stormed out from the back room. How fucking dare he. How dare Takemichi come asking for information on you. He had been inches from turning that turd face into a smear on the ground for soiling the memory of you with his thoughts.
Yet for all the anger smeared across his face in plain sight for customers and passers-by alike to see, it was an uncomfortable turmoil that brewed in the base of his gut, one that Draken knew came from a lack of closure. Of course he had been keeping his ear to the ground all these years - how could he not, when you meant and still mean the world to him - but the last thing he expected to happen today would be to be reminded of you and your sudden disappearance twelve years ago and the quick downfall of everything else that followed. You had always been the center of the Tokyo Manji Gang, after all.
In a vain attempt to distract himself from the sudden flurry of memories and thoughts, the former delinquent picked up a socket wrench and pulled out a stool. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, Draken tried to convince himself, busying his hands with loosening the bolts of a motorcycle engine; all Takemichi and his detective friend had brought were more questions instead of answers, but he was certain that he would have heard of any news regarding you.
A buzz as the bell to the backroom door went off once more, and every last shred of concentration the man with the dragon tattoo had left instantly went down the gutter. His mind leapt straight back to Takemichi as the vulgarities and curses started to flow once more. If it was that bastard again with his questions, he swears- “What?!” He barked out as the door flew open once more with a bang, not sparing a second glance as to who it was.
But it wasn’t the two black mobs of hair he had expected to see standing outside, instead being greeted by an awfully familiar swish of a ponytail that Draken hadn’t seen in years, the green of an apron with the logo of a pet shop striking against the backdrop of a dull, gray alley. Those distinct yellow eyes of Baji, once sharp and methodical, were instead completely blown wide with panic, the other shoving the screen of a smartphone straight at him. “It’s- it’s-” The words died away before they could leave his tongue; the former Toman’s First Division Captain clearly too shocked by something to say a hello or even notice Draken’s foul mood. And the temperamental pet shop delinquent would have never let that kind of tone drop without a fight.
The motorcycle engineer simply snatched up the phone to take a better look himself. “What am I looking at?” A pause, a sudden silence as Draken continued to squint at the screen while Baji collected his thoughts and emotions.
“It’s her.”
Draken almost dropped the phone as soon as the other blurted out those two laden words. “What?” The man muttered, his voice lost to disbelief. He knew, of course, who Baji was referring to. “That’s not possible.” It simply wasn’t. He would have known if you had been seen.
“Look.” Snatching back his phone, Baji clicked into one of his conversations, before turning the screen back around. “A message from her number. Yesterday night. I only saw it when I woke up.”
Draken’s mind instantly jumped to his earlier visit, and Takemichi’s probing questions about you. Was this related? Did he know something that Draken did not? Logic told the tattooed man otherwise - as much as he would have liked for you to have appeared out of thin air, there must be a different explanation. “Could it have been Mikey?” It must be, since they both knew that Bonten had continued to maintain your number all these years, Mikey having never really gotten over your sudden disappearance.
“So you don’t know about this either, huh?” The once First Division Captain shook his head, frowning as he concentrated. “Why would he send something like this?”
And that was true: the way the message started with a very hesitant “to whoever this number now belongs to” and directly addressed to a “hopefully Baji-kun”, there was no doubt that it must be you. What was the chance someone else with the same name as you would also know that this was Baji’s personal number? But how?
Any conversation left between the two died away, the two men left to ponder. The world, of course, simply kept turning, passersby eagerly making their way to unknown destinations, strolling past the small alley without a second glance at the duo, while the occasional vehicle rattled and raced down wide, empty roads.
Letting out a sigh, Draken stepped aside, waving at his once close-friend into the dimly-lit backroom. “I think you best come in. I’ll close up shop for the day.”
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Twelve years in the past, despite your best efforts, you once again found yourself in the thick of things.
You sighed. “This is a bit of an overkill, don’t you think boys?” The rattling of chains seemed to agree with you, the metal links rubbing and clanking against each other as they followed the cuffed hand you raised to shake amusedly at the Toman founders huddled around you. Back twelve years in the past and once more separate from Takemichi’s time leaping woes, things were hardly going any better for you. “I’m really not going anywhere, I promise.”
To no one’s surprise, the boys disagreed, and they were far from afraid to make that known despite your assurances; you could tell from the tightening clutches and tugging on your shirt, and that was if you could ignore the immediate protests and whining and whimpering that broke out. But you couldn’t really blame them, you suppose, musing to yourself as you rested your chin atop a shifty Mikey’s head, unchained hand moving to gently hold Draken’s much larger one as Kazutora tried his best to snuggle his way into the crook of your neck and probably under your skin as well. After all, it had been just a single night since you had made your sudden reappearance in the small alley a stone’s throw away from your school in a gust of wind, and three nights since you first disappeared. You were sure this was the first and longest time your boys had been apart from you ever since they entered your life.
“You did disappear though,” Mitsuya’s voice cut above the others, those dark, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of his and everyone else’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “And we still haven’t figured out what caused you to… vanish.”
“To time travel,” you corrected gently. It was easy to tell that the delinquents around you were still uncertain about how you managed to slip their grasp without their knowledge, let alone accept the idea of you having somehow leapt into the future, somewhere that they were unable to follow you to. They had always been protective of you, perhaps because of the difference between their strength and yours.
Allowing your gaze to take a wander away from the mobs of hair of various colors gathered around you, your bedroom was exactly how you remembered it had been even twelve years in the future, your belongings having been left in the exact same spot all those years. Well, aside from the unmade bed where you had fallen asleep amidst the pile of delinquents the previous night, that is. Your present blankets were left still tossed aside into a messy pile, and you couldn’t help but wonder how your Toman friends knew how to fold them back the same way you always had. Did they also take turns keeping your home clean all those years? You wondered if they had managed to share such a difficult task that would have carried so many possibly painful memories. Which inevitably led your line of thought straight back to the various questions that had been plaguing your mind: where was the future you? What happened to Mikey that left him in such a state? And where were the rest of your Toman friends?
Yet all you had were more and more questions. Shaking yourself out of your ponderings, you focused your gaze back onto the lively group of delinquents. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but it’s probably linked to the onomori you boys gave me for safekeeping.” The same purple-and-gold charm from the very founding of the gang, the same onomori that had been stabbed during that life-threatening attack on Ken-chin you tried in vain to stop, the same one that Sanzu had accidentally discovered could summon you back from the future: it now hung from a metal chain under said Vice Captain’s shirt, pressed tight against his sternum where it could get constant skin contact, and more importantly, safe from the grabby fingers of Mikey and Kazutora.
The blond-haired delinquent with the intimidating dragon tattoo only instinctively reached for the onomori once more, as if to assure himself it was still there, the collar of his shirt crumpling as he closed his fist around the bloodstained, amateurishly-patched charm. Now that they had it, you mused, there shouldn’t be any more issues.
Baji, who had earlier been shoved aside by a bawling Kazutora, grumpily poked your side, and you jumped a little in response. “So what happens in the future?” The black-haired boy asked, as you beckoned him closer, patting an empty spot to your right where he could lean up against your shoulder.
Ah, you had hoped that their line of thought wouldn’t have gone there. Because how were you supposed to respond? You hesitated, the white-haired bony, tired figure of the future Mikey roaring straight back to the front of your mind with that question. Should you be telling them about the future? Sure that would be the easiest way to ensure that that particular timeline never happened, given you were sure this would be the first time your boys will have ever heard of this predicament you found yourself in, but what if you accidentally changed the future for the worse? What if you did something irreversible that only made a bigger mess?
Maybe it would be better if you kept things to yourself first - you could always tell them the full truth later on if you needed to. Keeping that in mind, you were quick to school your face back to a neutral expression, though the brief flash of internal panic across your face at that question was enough to raise suspicion. Kazutora instantly leapt to his feet, tears that had already been dried starting to well once more at the corner of reddened eyes, lips starting to quaver once more as he jabbed a finger in your direction. “Y-you left us,” his word ladened with accusation, those sandy brown eyes clouding over as the waterworks flowed. “You did, didn’t you? You m-married someone else in the future.”
And he sounded so convinced by his own words too, you amusedly noted, as if it had already happened because he said so. “I did not,” you stated simply, reaching over to affectionately pat his knee. “I told you, you boys will always be my priority.” You weren’t sure how the delinquent with the duo-colored hair came to that particular conclusion, though you supposed it was simply just jealous.
Draken raised an imposing eyebrow. “And you don’t want to tell us what happens because?”
“Because I’m afraid it changes the future for the worse.”
“What can you tell us?”
You hummed, your eyes glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as you thought before returning to meet Draken’s gaze. “My room was still exactly the same in the future.”
“Really?” Pah looked intrigued at the idea.
“Yup! Whoever did it did a good job too, my blankets were even folded back neatly.”
Outside, your neighbor was quiet as it always was right at noon, with students yet to be released from their classes and workers still congregated under the big city lights. It was strange, looking over roads and houses that you knew would stand the test of time, leaving you to wonder if the neighbors you were well-acquainted with still occupied their homes in the future you came from. Letting out a sigh as you leaned back onto your bedroom wall, you stretched out lazily as best as you could. “Say,” you ventured. “Did you happen to meet future me?”
Kazutora sniffled, just as Mikey lifted his head to stare blankly at you, as if your question had been asked in Martian. “W-what?” “What?”
”Nothing,” you hastily concluded. Seems like the ‘future you’ was somehow missing, and you noted that down mentally in case you needed that.
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Thankfully the subject of your apparently strange question was dropped before you had to elaborate any further on your awkward question, with dirty looks immediately being exchanged between the two still clung to you, though the black-and-yellow haired boy’s ire was quickly stolen
You hadn’t missed Mitsuya’s unwillingness to mingle with the rest for the entire length of the time the six boys had been gathered, the lilac-haired boy keeping a careful distance from Kazutora in particular, nor did you miss Kazutora’s and Mikey’s seeming aversion to each other’s presence as well, the ugly stink eyes they shot at each other over your shoulders while attempting to jab at each other when they thought you weren’t looking hard to pass over. It was clear that your disappearance had sparked a fight between the Toman founders, and though the exact details were still lost on you, it wouldn’t do to leave this crack to split any further as far as you could help it. Huffing at Kazutora’s more insistent grip around your waist, an indulgent smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you beckoned at Mitsuya to join the huddle, before your hand moved to gently stroke a pouting Mikey’s back. “Have you boys been fighting again?”
“No.” “No.” The immediate denials, combined with their gazes instantly dropping from yours, were suspicious to say the least. You imagined that they had, in fact, been fighting while you were lost to the flow of time. You wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.
Tutting, you dished out forehead kisses to the beefing delinquents, feeling them melt away against you. “If I cook some tempura for everyone for lunch, would you be willing to make up?”
You didn’t need to wait long to get your answer.
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Days started to pass, the hours slipping through your fingers like water. Every minute brought you further and further from your little trip to the future, your disappearance from this present. Your boys had yet to let up with their obsessive observations of you as you expected. It had, after all, just been four days since your return. You simply took it in stride, having no qualms about them wanting to tail you anywhere and everywhere, clinging to a limb or to your back as you went about your day; it definitely beat being confined to just your bedroom and cuffed to your bedpost. With enough reassurances about how you really wouldn’t leave them, and that no, you couldn’t control your time traveling, you even managed to convince your delinquents to let you back out into the wider world for accompanied trips to the supermarket and snack shops. School, however, was still out of the question for the foreseeable future (you tried).
The afternoon sky overhead was unusually overcast, the threat of rain only growing more convincing with every passing minute. Strong gusts of wind rattled windows and doors, ferrying the heavy gray clouds straight in your direction as the humidity only seemed to climb higher and higher, and you were very certain that a thunderstorm was brewing despite the continued absence of thunder. Yet here you were, you mused, as you sat on a curb with a drink in hand, alone outside for the first time in a week while you waited for Baji to settle some differences with the other delinquents inside the store. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been left truly alone ever since your disappearance, though clearly, Baji not wanting you to watch him fight sat higher on the priority list. It probably wasn’t going to take long anyway.
A pause as you scratched mindlessly at your skin under the cuff. Did Baji from the future also like to fight as much as your current Baji?
Despite the possibility of you returning to that particular future being close to zero in your opinion, given that the boys had a good handle on that purple-gold charm, but you couldn’t help but think back on the white-haired Mikey from the future that had melted in your arms, that you had left behind. Ah no, not left behind, you corrected yourself, as you tried to wave away the instant guilt that settled in your heart. Technically - technically it was just one of many possible futures, and that particular future where your friend had suffered so much could have already been changed.
But something deep in your gut told you that you were wrong. Pushing that line of thinking to the back of your head, you instead opted to amuse yourself with the shenanigans of the past few days as you waited.
You had, for one, been cooking almost non-stop for your boys ever since your return: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks. Unusual, certainly, and you didn’t have to of course: no one was forcing you to, even if your clingy trio had the strongest pouty faces and watery eyes you knew, but you did feel like you had to make it up to them for all the worry. You did however get a lot of amusement attempting to send them to the supermarket with a grocery list.
And then there was the matter of Sanzu and the residue guilt that you couldn’t shake off. Sure, this Sanzu was not the same as the pink-haired man from the future with the crazy eyes, but you still wanted to put things right. Consoling yourself that even if it did change the future, a Sanzu that you were on amicable terms on was much better than dealing with someone that absolutely hated your guts for reasons beyond you, and apologizing in advance never caused any harm. It did take a lot of pleading, cajoling and outright bribery, but you finally manage to get Mikey and Draken to reluctantly agree to allow you to meet with the Fifth Division Vice Captain, though the two did remain very suspicious of how you knew the other.
Your lips were sealed from any further details, and you said your apologies and your thanks without giving out much information to the confusion of the boy with the mask, though thankfully for everyone involved, the meeting went rather uneventfully. Much to your dismay, the other was most likely forbidden from speaking to you, simply opting to listen quietly and then nodding at the end of your rambling, but you didn’t want to give him any more trouble - you didn’t trust your boys’ usual excuse that Sanzu was just quiet by nature and didn’t like to talk; they have been using that excuse for years by now. At least, you comforted yourself, you did manage to slip him another bag of karaage while a pouting Mikey was distracted.
You breathed out, watching another car whizz by as you took a sip from the bottle of iced tea. Beaded sweat that clung to your hair was dabbed off with a handkerchief, the humidity of the already hot afternoon only rising as the rain-laden clouds, gray from their load, rolled threateningly closer.
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Glancing at your watch, you decided that it had been a long enough period of time for you to venture back into the small shop, the plastic bag hanging from your wrist rustling as you stood - your delinquent friend should be about done by now. But all you managed to take was a single step before you were quickly stopped once more. “Oh-” You blinked, shaking off the surprise, the black of the other’s shirt that you ran into momentarily blocking your entire field of vision. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
An annoyed tsk was all you earned it seemed as you quickly moved aside, and as your gaze was raised from the ground to meet the other, your obstacle was quickly revealed to be a boy with streaked yellow and blue hair, pierced violet eyes staring down at you through the circle lens of gold-rimmed glasses. A face you didn’t recognize from anywhere, not even the future. One that you would usually apologize again, write to the back of your mind, and then quickly move on to avoid any trouble, though the trailing blood leaking from the other’s nose and the bruises that decorated his face made you pause. “You’re hurt! Are you okay?”
”Fuck off.”
You didn’t let that bother you. “Don’t worry,” you assured, showing the other the scar left on your palm back from when you tried to save Ken-chin from that knife attack. “I’m a professional.”
That seemed to confuse the boy enough for you to leap into action as his violet eyes looked bewilderedly between the small mark and your confident gaze. Whipping open your bag, you produced a small bottle of ointment and a few bandages, basic supplies that you always kept on hand for your own delinquent boys. “What’s your name?” You asked cheerfully as you ever so gently dabbed the dark spots before sticking a bandage over.
“Rindo,” the boy answered. You replied with your own name, and that was that.
Carefully rinsing and repeating your procedure with each bruise till you were done (you were rather surprise he let you, if you were being honest), you passed him a tissue for his nose after with strict instructions to blow out the blood and not swallow it.
The other obediently held the tissue to his nose without complaints, as if silently asking if you were done now and to leave him alone. Not that you noticed, too busy rummaging through the convenience store plastic bag and retrieving a wrapped piece of taiyaki, to which you pressed it into his hand. “Here! For you,” you lifted your own open drink. “Sorry, I only bought one drink.”
The ring of the convenience store door opening again was a bell that cut off any further conversations, and you waved a short bye to your newfound friend before rushing over to meet an exiting and very grumpy Baji.
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Once more separated from you by simple time, the gunshot shattered the tension weighing down the freezing air of the refrigerated warehouse, finally silencing the annoying muffled begging as the bullet cleaved through flesh as effortlessly as a butcher’s knife through tuna. A click as the used shell was expelled, yet hushness was quick to fall once more over the warehouse despite the area being far from empty. Mikey exhaled, his warm breath leaving a trail of fog behind in the cold air even as the man simply continued to stare blankly ahead, abyss eyes fixed on some unknown spot off from where the traitor’s head had been just a minute earlier, gun lowered to hang limply by his side.
A stone’s throw away, unusually alert green eyes framed by long pink lashes remained trained on the unmoving Mikey, the corners of Sanzu’s scarred mouth remained downturned as he contemplated what he had just witnessed. Far from the blood and death that bothered the made man, it was rather the sight of Mikey being there amidst the pooling blood instead of him, Bonten’s Hammer. After all, it was rare - unheard of - for the boss to personally bloody his hands with the dirty work, yet this was far from being the first instance of such an exception happening this week alone, be it to rivals, traitors or Bonten members alike. There had been several close calls for even the executives where the various members had found themselves at the business end of Mikey’s gun, Sanzu included, though fortunately there hadn’t been any accidental deaths yet.
And it was clear they remembered the past week’s incidents, Bonten’s Number Two breaking from his thoughts to throw an accusatory glance Kakucho’s way, given how everyone else was happy to let the boss stew, content with their quiet observation from a safe distance. Said black-haired man returned Sanzu’s icy look with a shrug that said everything: no one was too sure what was going to accidentally set Mikey off next, and with how trigger happy the man has been in the past few days, no one was quite keen to find out either.
Which left only Sanzu to do the job - the same man who had just been discharged from hospital after committing the ultimate sin and still very much neck deep in Mikey’s shit list - but still the only person left willing to risk his life. And he didn’t even have any drugs left - that shithead of a doctor in Bonten’s infirmary ward had confiscated his own stash on top of denying him any painkillers. Traitors, the whole lot of them.
The soles of Sanzu’s handcrafted shoes crunched atop the icy floor as he hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of his king.“Mikey?”
No response. Not a twitch.
The white-haired man seemed to barely even be breathing, lost to the breaking world in his mind. And there was no doubt about what caused this spiral. After all, it had been a mere three nights since you disappeared from his arms. Four days since Mikey had completely stopped eating or sleeping; and the few times Sanzu had caught the other nodding off for a few minutes before something wretched him back awake once more didn’t count. Short stubble dotting his chin, his mob of white, uncombed hair unkept atop his head, and still dressed in the same days-old clothes, it was as if he had ceased to function completely, and it was because of you that Sanzu’s king was rotting away, perishing before his eyes. A ruthless, cold man Mikey was as the head of the largest criminal syndicate in Japan, but twelve long years apart and for him to have only a taste of his darling you before some unknown force wretched you away from him again; it was as if the spark to keep slugging onwards had finally been extinguished from the broken man, and the strongman facade was starting to crack.
Despite the pink-haired man’s continued disdain for you, he understood, but there was nothing more he could do. Every available resource at Bonten’s disposal had already been committed to combing every inch of Tokyo, and all they could do now was wait. Letting out a sigh, Sanzu closed the distance, taking the few steps that brought him elbow to elbow with the boss, with just a couple of inches between the two. “Mikey? You alright?” He tried again.
Silence once more blanketed the area as his words drifted off and died, the freezing air in the refrigerated warehouse thick and heavy and hard to breathe. Off in the distance, Rindo shivered from behind the seat of a forklift, the chill finally getting to the younger of the Haitani brothers, but the world still fell silent.
At least this time Mikey did react, though not to Sanzu, the Bonten boss simply turning away from his right hand man, slippers making nay a sound as he padded away towards the exit, body listing from side to side with every step. “Ah, is it?” The ragged whisper that fell from Mikey’s lips seemed to echo louder than the earlier gunshot, unsteady steps threatening to give way under the man’s frail frame as he muttered to himself. “It was me? I see.”
All Sanzu could do was watch and grimace, hand moving to grip the bottom of his striped vest, knuckles turning white from his tight, frustrated clench. Mikey wasn’t speaking to any of the executives present, no, but to you: the whispering, taunting version of you that lived rent-free in Mikey’s hallucinations and delusions. Like a ghost that refused to depart, your shade haunting the white-haired man’s every move despite your absence, staying just beyond his grasp yet so mockingly close - who knew what kind of vicious words you were tormenting him with?
Even as he still questioned what had led to his intense dislike of you in the first place, he knew that the real you would never do such a thing, especially considering the tenderness with which he had previously witnessed you holding Mikey’s bony hand with. Definitely not to Mikey, but that was a matter for a different time. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the second-in-command tuned out those nagging voices, letting out a sigh that instantly fogged up into a cloud of white fog as he turned his attention back on the unstable man in front of him. Truly, having to live with this amount of clarity at all times was painful.
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One step wrongly placed, and time felt as if it came to a crawl as Mikey’s slipper failed to get a grasp on the thin layer of ice that coated the cement tiles, the already lethargic man looked as if he would be meeting the ground under his own weakened legs, white hair streaming out behind the Bonten boss as he descended.
Sanzu moved. “Wait Mikey, you’re-” Calloused hands shot out in an attempt to catch his falling king, though it seemed too little too late, that signature black shirt brushing past the tips of his fingers.
But in that instant, the former up-and-coming delinquent was quicker, a speed reminiscent of his glory days as Toman’s President as he caught himself with little difficulty. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” the guttural growl reverberated across the tin-roofed building, and in one smooth move, the black pistol whipped around to lined straight up with the centre of Sanzu’s forehead, the black, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of Mikey’s eyes scrunching up as his gaze narrowed dangerously.
The world held its breath as green eyes met abyss ones.
A second ticked by.
A bead of sweat gathered along Sanzu’s pink hairline despite the freezing temperature, trickling down the side of his face. Was this it?
Another second.
Perhaps it was a mere moment of recognition that glimmered behind those exhausted eyes to which clung black, heavy eyebags, perhaps it was your specter taking pity on him, saving him from what was an unenviable fate. Whatever it had been, the heaved sigh of relief that slipped out from Sanzu’s scarred lips started his world spinning once more as the barrel of the gun was lowered, the other’s bony arm shaking from the effort of holding up the pistol. He hadn’t been sure if Mikey would squeeze the trigger, and even though he wouldn’t have been too angry to die by his liege’s hands, it was far from the right time to leave the other to those spiralling thoughts. He did, after all, swear an oath to keep the former Toman President safe; he had for all this time and he will continue to do so, even if it meant keeping Mikey safe from himself.
The palpable stillness persisted as seven pairs of various colored eyes watched Mikey turn once more to leave, soundless steps reverberating through the tense air as his abnormally delicate figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared behind the half-open warehouse door, long tendrils of cold fog lazily trailing out after him.
Running one hand through his mob of pink hair, Sanzu took a glance around at the rest of the executives present as a silent grumble slipped his lips; it was rare to see anything but amusement on the faces of these usually desensitized criminals, and even rarer for everyone present to be of the same thought. And if it had been anything but this conundrum, the pink-haired second in command wouldn’t have wasted any time in giving it to them for showing such useless emotions. But with the quickly deteriorating state of their boss as the hours and days go by and no sign of your return or your presence anywhere, there was little they could do but watch with concern as Mikey wasted away.
Despite the already ongoing search looking non-stop for you, all day and all night, a tightening knot at the base of his gut combined with a nagging feeling told Sanzu that they were unlikely to find you anywhere, his mind instantly leaping back to the pounding headache and the change in his memory back when he awoke in the infirmary four days ago. Why did he stop hating you with every fiber of his being previously? How did you do that? No matter what the others said, there was definitely something off about his sudden change of heart with regards to you, Sanzu knew without doubt, and he would get to the bottom of this.
For now, what he needed to figure out was what combination of begging and groveling would be enough to get Mikey to at least accept some water.
ㅤ
Yet just three hours later, Mikey’s situation had already taken a turn for the worse. Four days without food, let alone sleep, would do anyone in, and even the once undefeated Toman President was no exception. Now standing alone, consumed by the darkness of the last untrodden area in Bonten headquarters, Sanzu knew he was breaking every rule worth remembering, doing something so explicitly forbidden by his king. But as he rummaged through mostly empty cupboards and amidst the little belongings owned by the infinitely wealthy yakuza boss in a bid to find something, anything that could help, the black hole of spiraling thoughts that encompassed the events of the past thirty minutes overriding any awareness he had the items passing through his hands.
After all, it had been him who had come across Mikey, his near-skeletal figure sprawled unconscious across plush carpets halfway down Executive Row, just meters away from the worn white door of his bedroom. It had been him who had scooped the man into his arms and rushed him down to the infirmary, grimly noting how the man weighed barely anything. And it had also been him, on his knees and his forehead to the ground, pleading with a conscious Mikey to allow the doctor to administer a fluid IV, only for the other to reject his fervent imploring with a simple turn of his head, those exhausted abyss eyes breaking from his teary green ones wordlessly to stare blankly at the ceiling. Because no words needed to be said for Sanzu to know what the boss demanded: he would accept nothing less than your return and your cooking.
Despite the white-haired man not being present, allowing the light from the hallway outside to pour into the usually unilluminated room - the gloom and morbidness just as Mikey likes it - felt too much like the discretion of such a sacred space to the ever-loyal Sanzu, though this did leave him to conduct his hunt with just the sliver of light that sipped in from under the door. The cold sweat that gathered and pooled on his palms was hastily wiped away on striped pants as the usually high second-in-command attempted to focus back on his searching, green eyes scanning around in a desperate attempt to find something that could help, a clue that could point to where you were, anything.
This was all your fault. Was there nothing he could do but let fate play out?
It was only as Sanzu threw up his arms in exasperation did a glimmer from the furthest end of the room catch the corner of his eye; the small amount of light that reflected back seemed to sparkle even in the dark. The faintest shimmer of gold. What was that? A cautious few steps revealed the source to be a school bag - your school bag, judging from the neatly written name on the tag - that you had failed to take with you for whatever reason. And more importantly, hanging from the front of the bag from a zipper was that notorious purple-and-gold onomori that had him recoil his hand as if burnt.
No doubt it was the same one that still haunted his every step, one that marked you as off-limits all those years ago on the threat of torture and death. Yet -
The Bonten man reached out, gripping the onomori with one fist. He vaguely remembered something from many years ago, maybe twelve or more, when you first disappeared, when you first gave him that bag of karaage. He had been the one to find your charm, and if his scrambled memory hasn’t failed him, the simple of act of picking up this charm had summoned you out of thin air. Though after holding it for a rough five minutes, Sanzu sighed, undoing the simple note that kept the charm tied to your bag before standing. He probably just dreamt that particular one up during one of his highs.
Still, the man noted as he wrapped the small item ever so carefully in a clean handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket, it was probably precious to Mikey. Something to lift his spirits a bit maybe, if it did nothing else - anything that would keep his king going until you could be located.
And pressing it into said man’s weak hand later, and watching the charm disappear under sterile white blankets as Mikey retracted his thin arm, it was all too clear to Sanzu that the other was running out of time. If they don't find you soon, Mikey dies.
Turning to leave his boss to his thoughts, the right-hand man decided that he didn’t quite enjoy all the stress. He could use a smoke about now.
ㅤ
ㅤ
The sight of the empty lot where your school building formerly sat brought that familiar gut-sinking feeling back to your abdomen, one that you didn’t think you would be feeling again. Running one hand through your hair, you let a sigh escape your lips. You were back in the future again, it seems. Whether this was the same future or a different one, or even if you had skipped ahead the same number of years was something that was beyond you at the moment, and you had even less on you this time then the previous incident, having been caught in your literal pajamas right as you were about to head to bed. Which came with a secondary problem, one that you found by simply looking up - it was still the middle of night.
The neighborhood where your school once was was silent as it always was at this time of day, with most students and adults alike usually asleep by this time of day. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you noted that the battery was dead once more: was it just a side effect of the time leaping?
Patting down the rest of your pajamas only confirmed that you had none of your house keys on you unlike your previous experience, which only meant that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Though heading back home wouldn’t be a bad idea if this was still the same timeline, and your feet started to carry you down familiar paths once more. Yes, you were sure at least someone would know you were back if you waited by the front door.
ㅤ
ㅤ
Takemichi let out an exasperated grunt, ruffling his hands through his hair. He had been back and forth from the future twice in the last four days alone, plus that disaster meeting with Draken, and nothing. No clues, no progress, nothing. You were still nowhere to be found. Kicking a stone down empty roads, the former Toman delinquent felt truly helpless for the first time. If his time leaping ability was being overridden by yours, then there was no point to what he was putting himself through - he couldn’t change the future until they could figure out how to stop yours.
And that meant…
The black-haired man shook his head vigorously in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going down that beckoning abyss. No, he couldn’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, Takemichi looked up, fists clenched determined by his side.
It was the middle of the night now, and the streets were completely empty of souls, with the exception of him wandering down aimlessly. In the distant, an occasional rumble of the engine of a passing vehicle, though none passed his way. But Naoto had mentioned that this area was where your school once stood, plus you lived not too far away as well, and therefore if you were really a time leaper, then there was a high chance this was the place you would return to. It made sense, Takemichi agreed, but this was already the umpteeth time he had searched.
Pulling one hand down his face, a flash of hair in the distance caught the man’s eye before it quickly disappeared behind a wall, too fast for him to even register. That looked like…you? Was that a hallucination?
A quick jog forward took Takemichi to the bend in the street, but when he looked round the corner, whatever trace of whoever it had been walking the roads was already gone.
ㅤ
ㅤ
Across the bustling city of Tokyo, Rindo froze mid-step.
Yet the sudden lack of movement was lost on Ran. The evening traffic had yet to let up outside, the rumbling of cars and the occasional horn cutting through the unnatural silence that hung inside the tiny shop tucked just a street away from the main road, though it was precisely the quietness that had carried with it the promise of an earlier rest. Careful to avoid dirtying his shoes with blood, the older Haitani had already made his way to the exit, suit jacket casually swung over one shoulder, gun tucked away safely and out of his side under his vest. “Let’s head straight back to base, Rindo,” Ran groaned, running one hand through his short purple hair only to grimace upon realizing that said hand was caked with someone else’s blood. Today was really not going his way. “You can grab a drink at the rooftop bar or something, I don’t know.”
Yanking the front door open with a grunt, said Bonten executive didn’t stop to hear if there was a response from his younger brother, instead opting to step straight out and back onto the narrow side alley, the buzzing streetlight overhead as if a welcome back from the grim of that filthy store and its dead, traitorous owner. Taking a breath of the comparatively better smelling air outside, Ran stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, pulling out a sole crumpled cigarette and a handful of change - but no lighter. Not even a match. Fuck this fucking disgusting job.
Ran turned, hand already outstretched. “Rindo, do you have a light -” And it was only then did it hit him that his brother had not followed him out. Rindo was still in the store for some goddamn reason, and he had to go back in there. The feared mafia officer sighed. This had better be important.
Alas, he spoke too soon.
“I think my memories just changed,” was seemingly all that Rindo could bring himself to mumble at the chime that came with the opening door, the man with the long purple hair still standing by the row of unpowered display refrigerators where Ran had last seen him, violet eyes staring down at the blood pooling around the cooling bodies sprawled on the floor. The stench of iron didn’t seem to bother the younger Haitani, too caught up in his jumbled mind as Rindo tried to make head or tail of what had just happened.
Ran, however, was far from impressed, simply propping both his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow at that statement. “Did you get into Sanzu’s drug stash?”
The sheer vileness of that statement alone was enough to shake Rindo out from his own little world, with said man snapping straight back into reality ready for a fight. “How dare you-” the younger of the two let out a cough, the sudden thick smell of death and blood that made itself known to his previously oblivious nostrils choking up his airway momentarily. “How dare you say that.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to say when you talk dumb shit?”
“It’s not dumb shit, fuck you Ran! My memories changed!” Rindo insisted, carelessly stepping over the bodies at his feet, Ran wincing at the blood splattering up and all over his brother’s shoes. That would be a pain to clean later.
But still, the older Haitani led the way back outside and into the fresher air of the alleyway, before turning around to better understand the situation his dear brother seemed to have found himself in. “Alright, if not pink pills, then what happened?”
Rindo himself still seemed to be struggling to make head or tail of what had just happened, letting out a groan as the man with the long purple hair rubbed his temple with one hand. “It was after we shot those two inside. All of a sudden, my head felt like it was about to explode for a second, and I suddenly knew…stuff. Things that I didn’t know before."
“Like what?”
“You know you were telling me about Mikey’s girl earlier?”
“Uh huh.”
“I’ve never met her, and before the job, I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was. I can pick her out from a line of schoolgirls now.”
“Oh.”
Violet eyes met each other, and as if on instinct, both men thought back to the Bonten infirmary just days earlier, where an eerily similar sentence had been muttered. Sanzu. Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So it wasn’t the drugs.” This day was just getting worse and worse. “Let’s head back and sync up.”
“Sure,’ Rindo shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he nonchalantly followed his older brother, the purple-haired duo stepping out onto the busy main street and blending into the crowd, blood splattered shoes a distant thought. “I do remember her being pretty nice though.”
Ran raised an eyebrow, as he absentmindedly fiddled with his earring. “Pretty nice or pretty and nice?”
The younger Haitani audibly tsked, raising one leg to kick at the other’s. “You know what I said.”
ㅤ
The lighter, joky mood that the brothers shared didn’t last past their return to Bonten HQ, much to Ran’s disappointment, the usually silent place abuzz with a rare, panic atmosphere. Men and women alike dressed in neatly pressed suits rushing every which way, the small bulge under their suit jacket where their guns were strapped to an unspoken reminder of where they were - no doubt the communicators fixed to their ears were all but alight with barked orders and updates. Casually grabbing a passing grunt, it took a mere moment and single shouted objection for the poor soul to realize who exactly had grabbed him by the back of his shirt, the purple and green striped suits too iconic to be mistaken. “Ah- oh, Haitani-sama.”
“What’s going on?” Ran didn’t need to see through those dark sunglasses to see the other’s shifty look: the nameless Bonten grunt was definitely contemplating the chance of him being dead within the next five minutes as opposed to the next hour.
”Uh-“
Rindo reached threateningly into the depths of his suit, and sweat began to pour off the other’s forehead. “You know,” the younger of the two Haitanis started. “I’ve had a really bad day.”
”No, please, Haitani-sama, I’m not sure-“
Fortunately for all three men involved, the interrogation was brought to quick and uneventful close with the appearance of an all-too familiar mob of pink hair just as Rindo pulled a lollipop out to pop into his mouth. The grunt was let go to scramble off as both sets of violet eyes snapped to the unusual sight of Sanzu impatiently tapping his foot soundlessly against the plush carpet of the foyer, smoking cigarette held between scarred lips as the man looked around before glancing once more at his watch.
A smirk instantly began to pull at Ran’s lips as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his pants, strolling over. “Oh Sanzu~”
“I’m busy,” came the other’s curt reply, green eyes looking Ran up and down a mere moment before turning away.
”We know, we know,” the man with the short purple hair pacified. “It’s just that-“
Rindo quickly butted in, having closely followed his older brother over. It was clear that Sanzu, far from his usual drugged up and easily bullied state, actually had things to do and places to be. “My memories changed.”
Sanzu’s unusually alert gaze slid over once more to meet Rindo’s, and it seemed the severity of what the younger Haitani said set in quickly as his eyes steeled. “Mine did too. Again,” the Bonten second-in-command disclosed, though he said no more as the glass doors of the foyer slid open and Kakucho stepped out, gloved hand lightly touching where his gun was strapped to his chest under his jacket. “We’ll talk about this later. House alarm tripped again.”
Ah, your little pick-up party, Ran noted from the side, watching the two top Bonten executives slip effortlessly into a black, featureless car that quickly pulled away from the compound. So you were back - and your arrival must have something to do with the changing memories.
How interesting.
ㅤ
ㅤ
Across town, Draken cursed out loud as his feet flew over concrete paths down empty streets. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You were a fucking time leaper.
He had been working late on a client’s bike as he always did, the closed garage a quiet refuge after the hustle of the normal work day. The headache had hit him like a clap of thunder, with his brain feeling it was pressing up against his skull; and memories of twelve years past suddenly started to flood back, a recollection he couldn’t control. But they were all memories that he didn’t previously have, freshly added memories: some of your reappearance in his past, some of a fight he never recalled having with the other Toman founders, and most importantly, memories of you telling them what had happened.
It changed him, Draken admitted. It gave him a renewed hope that he didn’t remember possessing, that they might be able to fix this entire mess, that you were somewhere out there. All this time you were missing - it was true. You couldn’t control it like you had admitted. But if the past him still had that onomori, then why were you back in the future?
Turning a corner, a quick step aside was the only thing that kept him from running straight into someone else, though those fast, honed reflexes also almost had Draken swinging his fist into an all-too familiar face.
Baji was panting as if he had ran a full marathon, his apron half undone and left swinging from his neck, his hand clutching his open phone. It seemed like the other Toman founder had been struck with the same revelations, Draken determined, judging from the half-dressed state he was in.
And then those two fateful words tumbled from Baji’s lips. “Time leaper.”
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev x reader#tokyorev#mikey x reader#sano manjiro#ran haitani x reader#rindou haitani x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#sanzu x reader#takemichi hanagaki#kakucho x reader#kazutora x reader#baji x reader#bonten x reader#koko x reader#tokyo rev x reader#yandere tokyo rev x reader#cheesus drabbles
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Workin’ Hands (pt. 2) (Kit Walker x Reader)
Pt. 1, Pt. 1.5, Pt. 2
“You should do whatever you want.”
“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.
“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”
warnings: making out. smut. fluff? to smut. innocent!reader. parents?. fingering
You expected him to honk, or wait in his rusty blue convertible down the street— you’d walk down, your hand over your eyes, shielding your face from passersby, and quietly get in his car. He’d put his top up and drive off, putting his hand on your thigh without even saying hello.
Instead, he came to your door at five minutes to five. He knocked twice, whistling on your doorstep. Your mother opened the door. You were lucky— your father wasn’t home that evening, he was out drinking with friends from work.
“Good evening!” you could hear your mother say from your room upstairs. You were applying one last dusting of powder before your departure into whatever this odd night would be.
“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’m Kit,” he held out his hand for her to shake.
She shook it loosely, then replied, “Nice to meet you, dear,” she’d said, her nose turned up slightly. She’d, like all the other mothers in town, heard of one Kit Walker, town womanizer and delinquent.
You came down the stairs in your skirt a few inches above the knee, a short-sleeved collared blouse tucked into it, a shiny belt around the meeting of the two pieces.
You didn’t say anything, just looked at your mother. You walked to the door slowly. He held a singular rose in a brown paper wrapping, a thin pink ribbon tied around it.
“Mrs. (Y/L/N), I’d love to take your daughter out on a date,” he said with an intense tone of earnest.
“Oh, my,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows, putting her hand on her chest. “Honey, you know I can’t say yes without your father.”
“Please, ma’am. I’ll have her back by nine,” he smiled. “Your daughter is a lovely girl. I have every intention of being a gentlemen,” he held her eye contact, then glanced at you. You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes, but your mother had looked out the window, a concerned expression on her face, so she missed this little addition.
“Alright. I want her back by eight, though,” she said, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, eyes wide, clearly distraught.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much,” he smiled, offering you his arm. You wrapped yours around his and walked to his car.
“Oh, this is for you,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the rose in his hand.
You look up at him. “Thank you,” you put your nose to the bud, smiling.
He opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you situated yourself. Then, he walked to the drivers’ side, getting in the car next to you. He looked at you, staring until you met his eyes, as well, and he smiled, then looked to the road and drove away.
The wind blew in your hair, which was pulled half-up. His arm rested on the top of the door.
You watched him, periodically, and he’d turn and catch your gaze, and you’d look down at your lap. He would then stare at you as long as his driving allowed him, watching your cheeks flush pink.
About ten minutes into the drive, you rested your head on the top of the car door, the wind blowing your hair back. You stuck your arm out the window, feeling the harsh breeze of the moving car hit your skin. He looked over at you, getting flushed himself.
You drove down a tree-lined street, his eyes frequently flickering from the road over to you.
As you pulled up to a lakeside lot, parking atop the grass, he looked over at you.
“Where are we?” you ask.
“Ain’t never been to the lake before?” he asks, putting a toothpick in his mouth.
“Well, I’ve heard of it,” you flush. “But I heard it was where boys and girls go to… you know…” you tilt your head to the side, then back up.
He chuckles. “Aw, yeah, in the summers some late nights you got some couples out here in their cars, windows all foggy,” he shakes his head, “but mostly it’s just a nice place to sit, I think,” he pauses, then smirks, “Unless you wanted to… you know…” he mimics you.
You flush and frown slightly.
“Honey, I’m just kidding,” he says, putting his hand on your cheek. Then, he reaches to the back seat, grabbing a basket and pulling it to the front. “I brought sandwiches!” he beams.
You look inside the basket. There are two wrapped sandwiches, two apples, and two toffee candies.
“Not much of a dinner,” his Massachusetts accent was accentuated by the combination of words, “But you said you didn’t wanna be seen, so,” he shrugs.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure him, feeling somewhat guilty. “I swear it! I just… didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about me,” you fidget with your fingertips.
“I understand,” he says, taking the toothpick from his mouth and placing it in the pocket of the door.
“The food is lovely,” you reassure him. He smiles.
You sit and eat and chat about light topics— work, college, your families.
When you’re finished, he puts his trash back in the basket, taking yours as well, then puts the basket on the floor of his back seat.
“So, you really never been on a date before?” he smiles.
“Not once,” you say.
“Sure you’ve kissed someone before, though, right?” he asks curiously.
“No, I haven’t,” you smiled awkwardly.
That was all he had to know.
“I’d like to be your first kiss,” he says smoothly.
“Now?” you ask in a light, mousy tone.
“Only if you want that,” he lowers his face, looking at you from under his brow.
“I really don’t know how soon you’re supposed to kiss a guy…” you say. You both engage in a near-deadly eye contact.
“Honey, you’re not supposed to do anything. That’s all stuff your parents make you think,” he says. He puts his hand on your arm, rubbing it gently, his face a soft, encouraging smile, “You should do whatever you want.”
“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.
“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”
“I think,” you pause, flushing a deep red, “I think I’d kiss you now,” you whisper sheepishly.
He stares at you for a moment, then puts his hand on your face. He leans into you, pausing a moment, feeling your warm breath on his lips. Then, he closed the gap, kissing you gently. It’s a still kiss, and it only lasts a few moments. He pulls away, eyes scanning your face once again.
You stare at him, gathering all of your will, then follow him back, pursuing his lips to kiss him once again. This kiss is more fiery, as he allows his mouth to work against yours. He moves the hand he had placed on your cheek back so his fingers became tangled in your hair, placing his other on the side of your waist.
When he realizes your hands are still on your lap, he reaches down, grabs them, placing them on each side of his neck. He inhales deeply, his lips growing momentarily harsher against yours. Those soft, small hands— he was tethered to them somehow.
He puts both of his hands back on each far side of your jawline, pulling your face towards his. Your kiss follows his in passion and movement, and you breathe in your proximity one last time before pulling away.
Your eyes flutter across each others’ faces, still inches away. You even smell sweet, he thinks to himself. Like cherries. He smiles at you.
He almost swallows his next question, afraid to ruin the moment, but he had to hear you say it. He had to hear it himself.
“So, you’re really a virgin?” he asks.
You pause, looking down at your lap. “I am,” you smile shyly.
He had heard about you around town.
A shame she’s a total smokeshow, boys would say when you walked into the diner, she’s a total prude. They called you stiff, stuck-up.
You were none of that. You were something completely different.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, lost in thought.
“You’re gorgeous,” you smile. Of course that’s what you would say.
He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, smiling, his dimples carving into his cheeks.
You breathe deeply, trying to re-center yourself. “I’ve never had this feeling with anyone else before,” you confess.
He smirks, leaning back, “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”
“I don’t know,” you pause, identifying all your current symptoms before speaking again, “You make my heart race and my cheeks feel tingly and sometimes my stomach will feel tight, and it’s almost like a nervous feeling, but it’s not exactly the same.”
“Honey,” he says smoothly, laughing a bit, “Am I… Am I turning you on?”
You’d heard the phrase, however you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. It felt right, though; you did feel as though he was flipping a switch inside you that hadn’t been flipped yet. “I don’t,” you pause, “I don’t know what that means exactly.”
He smiles. Of course you don’t. He leans into you, then says, “Well, it’s,” he collects his thoughts, trying to find the best way to describe it to you, “It’s what makes men and women… want to… touch each other.”
You place a hand to your chest, concerned about the tightness and heaviness with which your heart was pounding. “How do I know if that’s what I’m feeling?”
“Well,” he smirks. As smooth as anything’s ever been said, he looks into your eyes and asks, “Do you want me to touch you?”
It’s the way you know you need water when you’re parched or sleep when you’re tired or air when you’re lightheaded underwater. You think of him touching you and you feel in your bones that it’s what you need. “Yes.”
“Can you do me a favor, honey?” hey says, caramel laced in his tone.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“Can you get in the back seat for me, sweetheart?”
You pause, staring at him for a moment, processing his request. You realize you won’t say no to him no matter what you decide is the correct answer, so you simply nod and open the car door. He sprints around to the other side of the car, holding the back door open for you. Even in these circumstances, he’s ever the gentleman.
He waits until you are seated, then follows you in.
You look at him, flushed, a slight confusion set in your brow bone.
“I’m not taking your virginity, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, his one hand on your hip, the other brushing a piece of hair from your face.
You look into his eyes, cheeks flushed a bright pink.
He whispers, “Do you trust me?” he asks.
You nod without thinking twice on the question.
“Can you lay back for me?” he speaks in the most gentle tone he can, almost like speaking to a small, skittish animal.
You do as he asks, resting your head at the bottom of the car window.
He puts his two hands on the outside of your thighs.
Those big, calloused hands.
He kisses your knee tenderly. “Open your legs for me, please?” he asks, then adds, “It’s the last thing you have to do for me, okay? Promise,” he says.
You let your legs fall apart, and he kisses your other knee, whispering, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”
“Hmm,” you mumble, smiling, closing your eyes.
You look back up at him, biting your lip and fluttering your eyelashes as he traces the inside of your thighs with his fingertips.
You push your hips forward, straightening your back, his hand ending up a few inches farther up your thigh.
You let out a shaky breath, your voice caught in it momentarily, your eyes closed once again. Fuck, he thought, did you even know how lewd those sounds were? Did you even know what it could do to him if you didn’t stop?
He winces at the sudden rush of friction in his jeans. He’d have to cope with the discomfort for your sake.
“Sweetheart, look at me,” he said. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. So obedient, he thought. “Have you ever touched yourself?”
You cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant.
Your naivety alone was enough to make him go rock solid.
“Have you ever touched yourself where other people haven’t so you could feel good?” he rephrases.
You shake your head, eyebrows knit together, lip between your teeth.
He begins to inch his hand up inside your thigh. You watch his face intently, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours for an instant.
When his fingertips finally brush against the lacy fabric of your underwear, you let out a high-pitched whimper, eyelids fluttering closed.
He pulls back a moment, tracing the inside of your upper thigh, then makes contact again, this time placing the entire area of his fingers against you.
You exhale loudly, looking at the ceiling of the car. You are flushed down your chest a bright red.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
You almost believe you cannot, so shy under his hand now, but you know enough about him to know he means what he says.
You meet his eyes and, unexpectedly, he feels himself go weak for a second. Your otherworldly gorgeous face practically tore him inside out already, and now it was almost unbearable to look at you.
Almost.
His eyes scanned your features, taking all of you in.
He rubbed against the fabric, flipping between the flat of his fingers and the back of his knuckles, teasing you.
Then, he reached up with both of his hands, hooking his fingers around your underwear, pulling down over your legs, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor.
He leaned down, pressing his fingers against you again, his other arm now around your back, pulling you into his chest, crowding you with his heat. He maintains your eye contact.
He rubs your clit in circular motions, smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open, letting out choked moans from your lips as you stare directly in his eyes.
He moves his fingers down, feeling all the wetness pooling at your entrance. He has to rest his head on your shoulder for a moment to recuperate. He’d never felt a girl this wet before.
“You are very wet,” he mumbles deeply into your ear, almost growling.
“Is- Is that a good thing?” you ask him.
“Yes.” He felt guilty for being almost frustrated with your innocence. You were torturing him, his dick relentlessly hardened against the seem of his pants.
He pushed one finger into you as gently as he could, slowly. “That okay, darlin’?” His accent grew thicker as the moments passed.
You winced in pain. You’d never had anything inside you before.
He nearly came just feeling how tight you were.
“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, relaxing as the pain resolved. You realized what you had said, “Kit,” you corrected.
“Mm, uh-uh. Sir is good,” he says breathlessly, pushing another finger into you.
You moan loudly, closing your eyes tightly.
“Eyes on me, sugar,” he orders.
Your eyes quickly return to his. “Yes, sir.”
He plays with you, moving his fingers up and back from circling your clit to pushing in and out of you.
You whimper at the strange combination of sensations, your heart pounding.
His eyes trail down your body. His hand up your skirt is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, he resolves.
He begins to push his two fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s seems a difficult multitask, however he has clearly mastered it beautifully.
You feel a hot, tight sensation forming at the bottom of your stomach. He continues to manipulate your body with his long fingers, and you feel the tightness building.
He smirks as your face changes from pleasure to confusion, and whispers, “Breathe, baby.”
It’s like he can read your mind.
“I feel,” you mumble, “I…” you wrap your hand around his bicep, suddenly needing something to hold onto.
“Uh huh,” he smiles confidently.
Suddenly, a white hot sensation rushes over your body. You moan loudly, breathing heavily, squealing out a messy string of exclamation like, “Kit, oh my.”
He’s nearly gone lightheaded from the vision of your arched back, your soft hands wrapped around his bicep, your hips rolling against his hand up your skirt.
“It’s okay,” he comforts you, “It’s okay.”
After a moment of the intense, unfamiliar sensation, Kit kisses you, smiling into your lips.
“Kit, what did you do to me?” you pull away, whispering, a euphoric smile pushing up into your cheeks.
He grins back at you, putting his hand on the side of your face. “All you need to know is I never want to stop doing it,” he responds.
You finally pick your shoulders up off the door, looking to the dashboard of the car.
“Oh my God,” you say.
“What?” he asks with a dorky smile on his face, still reeling from watching you come undone below him.
“It’s eight thirty!”
#american horror story#kit walker#ahs#evan peters#evan peters x reader#ahs fanfiction#kit walker x reader#evan peters ahs#kit walker asylum#fanfiction#evan peters fanfic#part 2#ahs asylum
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Merry Christmas! Sorry to add to the Bailey pile but could we get a drabble about yan Bailey hiring/ paying Whitney to bully and isolate the PC thinking it will draw them closer but Bailey immediately regretting the arrangement once they realize Whitney is into you? Idk a lot about DOL but I love your Bailey writing so much <3 <3 love your whole blog, this smut gets me through a lot <3
Gonna say. This and the idea that brutality Harper pays Whitney to fuck you up is my favorite "gross man doesn't realize that the violent freak is also in love with you" thing and I fucking need that. So here you go!!!
AMAB Bailey | AMAB Whitney | GN PC.
Started as a precaution. Just to keep an eye on you at school he promised Robin he'd knock a 100 bucks off his debt every week if he reported back to Bailey and kept an eye on you. But Robin was useless... always has been.
So instead he went to your tormentor. And when Whitney sat in his office ready to tell the old man to fuck himself to his surprise Bailey didn't want him to stop. He wanted to make it worse. And Bailey was willing to pay to make it happen.
Simple job Bailey thought. Rough you up. Make isolate you. Keep you constantly running from school to home. Then report back. It's an easy job. There's no way even a meathead with a smoking habit could fuck it up.
The first few weeks went great. Whitney kept a surprisingly detailed account of your humiliation. He even brought Bailey little trophies from his outings. Homework you could never hand in before Whitney stole it. Personal items. Keys. Even your underwear once.
Whitney was such a diligent little monster that Bailey was starting to take a liking to him. He might even be smarter than he leads on. But things shifted.
Whitney was still all over you the torment never stopped and the reports came in every week like they should but... you weren't as.... upset. You'd changed a bit. Something shifted and Whitney wasn't giving him any clue as to what that might be.
That is until he found the padlock in your room broken one night. And when Bailey slammed open the door to make sure you hadn't left. Instead, he found the delinquent over you.
Pressing his teeth into your soft flesh marking you up and holding your hips to his as he thrusted into you. His rings cut the skin on your hips.
you shouted in surprise and tried to push Whitney off of you but he just bit down harder pulling you close. You know Whitney doesn't mind showing off but this was a little too far for you.
Bailey grabbed Whitney by the hair yanking him off of you you shrieked as Whitney's teeth cut your skin causing you to bleed.
Bailey was furious as he tried to grab Whitney to beat him but Whitney was just a bit faster. Grinning with blood in his teeth not looking for a fight with the old man. He'd already declared war after all. Whitney flees the orphanage still smirking to himself.
Bailey hates that. He hates that he let this monster get so close to what's his. He hates that he let this happen on his watch. He was so careful. But he trusted a deliquent and that was his fault.
He pulls you from your bed and back to his room. He throws you in the tub before he starts to scrub you down washing off every little touch that Whitney left on you. The water is frigid but Bailey doesn't care. You deserve it for betraying him. And you won't be leaving his sight till he deals with Whitney.
Permanently.
#bailey the caretaker#whitney the bully#tw blood#tw cheating#like if you squint????#yan dol#yandere#tw yandere#yandere tropes#x reader#gn reader
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Sai and Sebastian’s Past Relationships Part 1
Hi all! I just wanted to Give Sebastian and Sai more flavor and take you into their past relationships. Here’s Seb’s.
TW: Abusive relationships, bullying, censored slurs, sex, drugs and alcohol, family tension.
Sebastian:
Age 15.
It’s hard being a queer kid already, but being a queer kid in the boonies feels like living ten years in the past. Seb and the Pelican town kids didn’t have a highschool in their town, so they commuted via bus pretty far out. By this time, Seb was sure he was bisexual but didn’t dare explore that. He was already bullied: Skinny, vaguely non-white, Antisocial, mixed family and had his hair long, leaving room for all kinds of “you look like a girl” and f slurs. So, he was often found hiding out under the bleachers, where he met his first “boyfriend”. In quotes because this boyfriend was very much not out and would often throw out “I’m not into guys, I’m just into you”. The rising Gridball varsity player (not Alex He’s a couple years younger than Seb in my HC) and the pariah. A cute pair, set up to fail.
This “boyfriend” also would often stroke Sebastian’s hair and comment that he’d ‘make a very pretty girl’ or ‘I wish you were a girl so we could be open’. Sebastian never cared that he was called feminine, but he hated hearing that from his boyfriend. He hated feeling “wrong” to someone he cared about, but at least it was something, he often reasoned.
They had… a pretty traumatic break up. Rumors went around that the two hung out (they did much more than that, including being each other’s first in a lot of ways). And the grid ball team confronted Sebastian accusing him of trying to corrupt their grid ball star with his “f***** germs”. And who was there to back the bullies up and keep silent but Seb’s boyfriend. Pushed down, roughed up verbally and physically, Seb confronted his boyfriend privately: “why didn’t you stick up for me, why would you let them do that, don’t you know you’re bi too?! I thought you loved me”… Seb wanted to say all this. But instead went “If you ever try to talk to me, call me or even look at me ever again, I’ll let everyone who the real fucking f***** is…”
One of Seb’s lowest points. One day while crying he felt his hair in his hand and remembered how his boyfriend stroked the left side of his head. Disgusted, he promptly gave himself an asymmetrical haircut. Luckily he had Sam around to cheer him up with some goofs and Abby around to clown him, but trim/clean up his new haircut. A rough first love, but a first love all the same.
Age 18
Sebastian was tired of the “what will you do now?” “Don’t you know you’re wasting your potential?” questions he was getting from his Mom and stepdad. In a fit of emotions, he packed a bag and rode to the edges of ZuZu city. The night he arrived, he was so full of feelings and just wanted to be numb. Drinking, clubs, drugs, parties, sex with strangers, all things he wasn’t ready for. He couldn’t be the good kid his parents wanted and he couldn’t be a “delinquent” either. So who was he? It all came down as he crumpled into a ball on some random stoop. The stoop happened to be that of his next partner, Grad student, Hae-Jin.
Hae-Jin invited Seb in, and let him stay to figure himself out. And with Seb at his most vulnerable, it was a quick and passionate week long courtship. Hae-Jin was good to him. They even convinced him to go back home and try and reconcile with his family (that’s a story for another time). They then were long distance for a year and he’d go and visit them as much as he could afford the gas to. But as time went on, the relationship soured. Seb began to feel like a secret again. And he kinda was. Hae-Jin was 24 and offhandedly would mention “My friends’ll call me a cradle robber.” Seb began to resent that. “They had a problem with my age but not with sleeping with me?”
At the same time, Hae-Jin would often pressure Seb to move in. It got worse when Har-Jin would accuse Seb of being “immature” and “indecisive” about them moving in together. Sebastian began to feel like he had less and less agency in this relationship. How was that any different than what was going on at home? He thought Hae-Jin cared for him, that they belonged with each other. But he felt more and more that Hae-Jin just wanted to “have him.” No better than a pet.
Hae-Jin gave him an ultimatum “Stay with me or go back to the middle of nowhere”. He chose to go back, in his mind, better the devil you know.
Age 23 and Up
Seb wasn’t really interested in dating after Hae-Jin. He focused on programming, his bike, and trying to stay sane as he rots away in his basement. Maybe every blue moon on one of his long bike rides, he’d make out with some stranger outside a gas station, bike shop just to… I don’t know, feel something. But that got tiring. He was tired. Tired of feeling like he had no say in anything he wanted. He had none at home, in past romances. At that point, he didn’t even know if he wanted anything.
Enter : Sai Peachtree
Thanks if you read this far!✨ I’ll be writing Sai’s soon!
#creative writing#stardew valley#stardew fanart#stardew#stardew sebastian#sebastian#sdv headcanons#stardew valley headcanons
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Puzzleship role-reversal AU following Egyptian boy Atem who transfered schools to Japan because of his father's job. As a son of a busy, high political figure, Atem constantly changes schools and have very little friends aside from Mahad and Mana who are the children of his father's close colleagues. (The other kids also got scared of him because his father is a powerful figure / only attempting to befriend him to gain benefits).
Atem grew up with strict lessons and pressure. Always have to be the best in everything. He always tried to maintain an aloof, cool-headed, always reliable leader persona, but in truth he's very shy and anxious. His only comfort was playing games, but it's very lonely to play alone (and he's not so fond of online games) (Mahad and Mana play with him but Mahad is older and doesn't have time to play childish games with him and Mana has other interests)
Atem had changed schools a lot, but it's the first time he moved overseas. He didn't know anyone in Japan and only spoke the language a limited amount (even tho his lessons back in Egypt always drilled the language into his brain but with no one to talk to it's pretty hard).
He instantly became The Talk at Domino High as "The cute/cool foreign transfer student from Egypt" and he didn't really like the attention. He became closed-off and only interact with his classmates a minimal amount, even tho he had always wanted to make more friends. (Now people thought he got a Mean Look, because of the frown 😂). Anzu was the first person who greeted him in good-faith because she purely wanted to get to know him and make him feel accepted in class (but he always brushed her off too). Jou and Honda are still part of The Delinquents(TM) and Jou just hated Atem's guts because he thought Atem is "snobby little Rich Kid". Kaiba is still Kaiba and he just Doesn't Care much.
One day, Atem got some free time and decided to visit a nearby game store: Kame Game. It's kind-of old and there's more board games and puzzle games instead of the ever-popular digital ones. But this is how Atem loves his games. (And there's always a weekly little tournament where kids can play Card Games against each other. Very Fun!).
When he came in, the store was empty and dark, but the store still has the "Open" sign at the door so Atem just kept going. There sits an open wooden box with silver carvings on one of the small table where kids play. Atem was intrigued to get closer and he saw some... wooden blocks. Maybe a Puzzle? Atem loves solving puzzles. Because this is just left alone on the play table, it means he can try it right? So he tried Solving it...
And as if the Puzzle itself was calling and urging him to Solve it... he's assembling it very smoothly. He can finally see that it's forming some kind of pendant, just a few more blocks but Grandpa Sugoroku suddenly appears and surprised him 😂 Gramps saw him with the Puzzle/Pendant and you know I really like the idea of him Knowing More than he lets on, he told Atem that this Puzzle was an artifact from The Gods' Time and whoever solved it will get a Wish come true. He urged Atem to take it home and solve it in peace. It might help you in some way, he told him.
So Atem brought The Puzzle home, thinking how that grampa was kind of Weird, but he's also intrigued with the Puzzle- so he's going to solve it. And a wish coming true doesn't sound bad at all...
Atem had solved it Perfectly, and it was a pendant. But nothing happens. Ha! What wish... Atem thought it's probably just Sugoroku's attempt to make him come back to the store and buy something. Atem was kind of Sad tho. But nevermind that, he got a new pendant now, so he wear it immediately and went to sleep. (Having strange Dreams about Storms and a boy with white robes and wearing The Pendant Facing Them... but he's not going to dwell with it- he must be Tired)
#puzzleshipping#reverse au#sorry its getting too long I have more notes but this post is getting too much ahaha sorry
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Like Mother Like Daughter
I never noticed this before, but it's interesting how in a way, Joyce and Chloe both found different people who helped them move on from the people they loved and lost. Joyce lost William, and Chloe in turn lost both William and Max. William and Max were part of a happy life, an era where while things were not exactly perfect, they were still memorable and good. So good in fact, when William died and Max had to leave for Seattle, Joyce almost immediately began dating another man while Chloe was spiraling into self destruction. Going into dangerous places and associating herself or getting into trouble with dangerous people.
Chloe, for the life of her, could not understand how or why Joyce would practically run into the arms of another man when her own father's funeral wasn't that long ago. How she could betray William, a good man, like that over David who is a total stranger.
Which makes so much sense as to why Chloe never made that comparison with Rachel, a total stranger at the time became who Chloe fell head over heels for. To Chloe, at least she had reasons. Max abandoned her (granted Max was 13 and had no control over the situation and in theory was afraid Chloe was the one moving on without her.), and in addition was not even feeling comfortable in her own household. Rachel gave Chloe reasons to keep going forward in life, she came to her like an angel ascending in to the darkest period in her teenhood.
Chloe never once thought that was probably why Joyce did what she did. For Joyce, it felt like what Chloe felt about William all this time.
"HE CHOOSE TO LEAVE ME!"
Joyce might have been angry at William for dying, as irrational as that sounds. "Why didn't he just took the bus to pick me up? Why couldn't he leave home earlier? How could he do this to me?" This of course does not excuse Joyce for choosing a man over her own child and make excuses for his actions instead of being understanding of what her daughter was going through. But it does show that in some ways, Chloe did get her irrationality and a desperate need to move forward as a coping mechanism from her. With David, he gave Joyce a reason to be happy, and like Rachel to Chloe, he showed her that she could find love in her life again. Unlike Chloe, maybe Joyce saw that comparison too, and was at least grateful that while Chloe was still a delinquent, Rachel was there for at least a distraction.
And it couldn't be just a coincidence that after the anniversary of William's death, that's when Max popped in to Chloe's life and saved her.
#Life is Strange#life is strange before the storm#lis bts#Chloe Price#joyce madsen#max caulfield#william price#rachel amber#david madsen#Someone said that Max was more like David in the sense that William was to Rachel#Which make sense with William and Rachel since they both died#But David and Max felt almost like a stretch#life is strange headcannons#Life is strange analysis#Lis analysis#Lis bts analysis
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