#in the meantime excuse me while go sob
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sideshow | jjk
You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.
Word count: 9k
Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.
# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*
A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.
You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.
Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.
But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.
Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.
Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.
In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.
“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”
You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”
“And I do!”
“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”
Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.
So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.
The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.
You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.
The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.
Then you turn around.
“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”
You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.
“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.
His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.
“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.
Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.
“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Y/N! Are you okay?”
Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.
Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”
“Hm?”
“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”
“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.
Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.
“Do you think he likes you back?”
You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”
Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.
“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”
With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.
When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:
“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”
Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.
“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.
“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”
Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”
“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”
“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”
“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”
“Uh, yeah?”
She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”
You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.
“What if he says no?”
“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”
Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.
“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.
Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”
The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.
You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.
There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.
“Hey.”
“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”
Oh, that was nice. Very nice.
You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”
“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”
“Not exactly.”
Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.
“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.
He’s looking at you in complete silence.
Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”
Ah.
Of course he knows.
He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.
“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”
Your heart is beating fast too.
“Me?”
Well, I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.
You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”
“I, uh...”
“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”
“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.
In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:
“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”
You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:
“Wait!”
You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.
Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”
“Bye…”
By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.
You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.
Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.
[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.
Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.
[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?
[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.
Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.
After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.
“Hi, come in.”
You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”
You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.
“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”
Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.
“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”
“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”
He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”
“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”
“Cool.”
“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”
He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”
You nod slowly and clear your throat.
Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”
“Thank you…”
You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.
You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.
You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”
Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.
“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”
When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”
“O-okay, gotcha.”
Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.
You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.
What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.
“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”
When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.
It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.
“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”
Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.
You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.
Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.
Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.
“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.
As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.
“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”
You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”
“I-I don’t know what—”
You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.
“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”
Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.
“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”
Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”
Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.
Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.
On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.
Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.
Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.
“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”
You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”
Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.
Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.
You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.
“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.
Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”
“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”
“And— if I do?”
Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—
“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”
Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.
“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.
But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.
“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”
Jungkook goes still.
“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.
“I—”
You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”
“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”
“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.
“S-stop lying!”
“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”
You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.
“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”
“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.
Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.
“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”
The woman was too stunned to speak.
“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”
The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.
And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.
You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”
“M-mommy, please—”
“Ugh, shut up.”
Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.
He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.
It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.
Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.
Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.
“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”
His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.
“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.
He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.
Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.
Shit.
You’ve gone off script enough as it is.
You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”
Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.
It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.
Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.
It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.
Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.
His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.
Shit, you’re dripping.
“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.
As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.
Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.
“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.
Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.
Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.
Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”
You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.
He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.
But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.
“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.
“W-what?”
“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”
A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”
“Let me return the favour.”
While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.
“F-fuck!”
You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.
Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.
You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.
Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.
His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.
“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”
You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.
“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.
“Dunno—”
“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”
Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.
To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”
You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.
Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.
“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.
Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”
With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.
Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.
“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”
Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.
“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”
Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.
Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”
“I’m not a pervert!”
“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”
“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.
“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”
To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.
“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”
“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”
“Fuck—”
You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.
Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.
“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”
Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.
Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.
Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.
You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.
“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”
As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.
“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.
Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.
He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”
Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.
You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.
“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”
Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.
You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.
“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”
Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”
Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.
Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.
“Please,” Jungkook cries out.
“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“
Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.
You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
“Please!” he begs.
The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.
With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.
“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”
When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.
“M-mommy—”
You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.
“Mommy,” he calls again.
“Yeah…?”
“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”
“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.
He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.
You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.
“Let me take care of you.”
Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.
Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.
Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.
“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”
You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.
Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.
“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.
You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.
He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.
“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.
His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.
You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.
Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.
“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.
After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.
“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”
In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.
“Good.”
You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?
“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.
Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”
Courage.
“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”
“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”
The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.
“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.
“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”
“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”
“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.
Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”
“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”
He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”
You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.
“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”
He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”
“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”
Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3
“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.
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I have another brainrot cooking, so in the meantime, have this:
Alrighty, so the new archon who's name I can't remember, right?
From what I've seen of them, they're pretty cocky and prideful.
I can imagine when The Creator visits their nation, they just flirt with The Creator every chance they get
And the other archons (except for Venti because he does it too even though it's to a smaller scale) are just HORRIFIED awaiting The Creator's reaction.
Now The Creator does not give a shit and just fucking FLIRTS BACK
And all of the archons (except for her because she's smug asf) are just:
OMG FURINA & CREATOR RIZZING FR LOL I LOVE THIS. If only I had good flirting skills, man—I'll have to lightly go over that part 😔 SOBBING. MY SKILL ISSUES—
@royalrose2011 THIS IS SO GOOD THOUGH—
Furina Flirting w/ Creator: Archon Reactions?
Furina be slaying out here fr—and you're living it! When did she become—
The other Archons are being caught off guard.
(Warning: Might be OOC!)
Venti
Man is flabbergasted. I mean, he knows he does the same thing and all that—flirting with you and stuff—but to see Furina just flirt in every single moment she gets, every single moment you're in HER nation—holy cow!
He's both amazed and shocked! He should write a poem about this! This was a thing to remember for the ages!
And perhaps he should show this to Zhongli and Ei to watch them wither. And he should present it to you! You love his poetry, and you certainly tolerate his little flirting too!
"Ehe, this bard has found the inspiration for a new ballad! I'll be right back, everyone! Good luck, blockhead Zhongli!" Cheery boi goes on his merry way to write the best poem the Creator has ever seen.
Safe to say it was worth the wait. You absolutely loved it.
Zhongli
He got a heart attack, seeing Focalors flirting with you so shamelessly. This was blasphemous! Even Venti, that absolute airhead, wouldn't go this extreme!
Children these days, and their lack of mannerisms. Zhongli can only sigh, sip his tea, and try his best to not throw a rock at the Hydro Archon. At least she's keeping you in good spirits and amused.
"Lady Furina, please don't get into Their Grace's personal space too much. Allow them so breathing space, please." If he thinks Furina is trying to get a little too close to you, Zhongli will plant his foot down. He has meteors to send as warning if Furina would not bid to these warnings.
Raiden Ei
Aside from the Puppet Shogun's general dislike to how close Furina was (Ei can't blame the Puppet Shogun), Ei feels real uncomfortable watching Furina getting all confident around you.
She's not uncomfortable of the flirting—after all, she too also deals with Venti's dealings, but Furina was a whole new level she has yet to fully understand.
"Furina. Watch yourself." Bodyguard Ei—that's her new job now. She's trying to give you that personal space you need that Furina is trying to take. "I will not hesitate to strike twice." If there's anything sketchy going on that Furina does, Ei is stepping in with her Musou no Hitotachi, no excuses.
She really does know how you tolerate this.
Nahida
She's in between giggling at Furina's antics and entirely shocked with how well you're taking it.
She thought you would've...how should she describe it...dislike how confident and smug Furina was doing. Then again, you were also tolerating all of Venti's antics too...
Nahida isn't really sure what to do, to be honest. While she loves Furina for keeping The Almighty Creator amused, she doesn't know how she feels about the constant flirting. In a sense, you were spending more time in Fontaine than anywhere else now!
"Your Grace, can you come hang out with me for a little while?" Nahida asks you with this cute little pout. "I would like to spend more time with you too in my nation!" And boy, are you now conflicted. Furina being a slay queen, or Nahida being cute child—who would you want to spend more time with?
Furina
While she appears confident and smug, she is most, upon all else, stoked and ecstatic of the fact you love her antics! Now, was that a new perspective she has yet to see!
With her keeping you around her awesome, extravagant nation, she can show all of Teyvat how her nation was the best nation of all time! And the popularity of Fontaine itself was increasing—more mora for her economy!~
Of course, she had it all planned out from the start! Who could make such a masterpiece and grand operation other than the Hydro Archon herself?
"Your Ever-Elegant Almighty Grace!~ Please, Allow I, Focalors, the Hydro Archon of Fontaine and God of Justice, send us off with these fine cakes. You are, however, by far, sweeter than any divine dessert!~" You snicker, liking the way this is going. Furina is even more cocky and smug when the other Archons try to intervene and take your attention away from her.
She has truly become the god that outshined all of Celestia. Hoho, the way their faces looked! She's absolutely stoked!
Ghost Rebel Side Notes: It feels great to be motivated! I hope you like this post :D I find this one real amusing LOL—Furina would really do this. If Furina would flirted with me, I honestly wouldn't know how I would feel LOL. I still love Furina though—high hopes that when Furina is out, Furina Wanters will be Furina Havers!~
✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦
#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau x reader#genshin self aware#sagau#sagau genshin#yandere sagau#genshin cult au#sagau brainrot#genshin imact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#sagau venti#sagau furina#sagau zhongli#sagau ei#sagau nahida
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too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.
to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.
pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader
wc. 18k
tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!
a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!
m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni
One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move.
Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body.
“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”
The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”
lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny.
“Can I see him?”
He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.
“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.
“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”
Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer
Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.
He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.
The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard.
He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.
“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”
Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.
You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.
Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke.
But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.
“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”
Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.
“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with.
You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.
Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?
Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.
Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features.
No.
You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.
“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”
At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got.
He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.
It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing.
Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.
Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.
The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.
“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside.
You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.
And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder.
You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man.
You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.
“Let’s get going then.”
You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.
The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status.
You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.
In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.
“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’.
You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling.
He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue.
He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”
At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”
You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.
Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.
“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break.
But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop.
Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call.
But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?
It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?
“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,
“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”
Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.
You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out.
With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.
Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.
“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself.
Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.
“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response.
“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.
Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.
Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth.
The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.
“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”
He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go.
You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded
“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.”
The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.
“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro.
His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.
So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake.
Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him.
And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.
Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.
He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried.
Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.
But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers
Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay.
Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.
But even then, apparently you could still scream.
The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.
“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”
And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.
“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.
You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach.
“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”
“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”
You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”
“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.”
Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend.
“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”
You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist.
His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.
The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.
“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps.
Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.
Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.
Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.
It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.
In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real.
Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.
He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,
And you.
What about you?
You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?
A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.
“Shin–”
“I’m sorry.”
“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”
“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”
“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”
“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”
“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”
“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,
“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”
“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”
Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.
“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”
“I– What’re you talking about?”
He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain?
“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”
“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”
“But it is! Can't you see?”
“Shin–”
“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench.
“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,
“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”
And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital, you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down.
“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”
His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.
You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.
“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”
He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility.
And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil.
“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,
“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.”
And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.
You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.
Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.
Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it.
A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks.
Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.
You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.
Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.
Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there.
In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.
The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits.
In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach.
You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.
The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone
Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together.
Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.
Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor.
Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings.
Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right?
So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting.
At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–
“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”
The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.
“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.
“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded.
He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”
This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity.
“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”
You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side.
Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you.
He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.
“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”
“You think?”
“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”
Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.
“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”
“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you?
“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”
This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you.
“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker.
“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”
You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…”
You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up.
“Then what?”
“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”
Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.
The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand.
“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame.
“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”
“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”
For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.
Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital.
Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups.
“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”
He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.
“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”
He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took.
Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.
At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.
Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.
“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”
He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.
Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.
In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.
It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.
The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.
He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess
“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?”
“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.
“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”
“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”
“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”
“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.
“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”
You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”
His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.
“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”
“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.
You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.
“What? Were you planning to say no to him?”
He knew you too well for your own good.
“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”
“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.
“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy.
Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.
“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting.
In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue.
He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.
And that’s exactly why you don’t.
Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.
For the both of you.
“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”
You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”
“He’s scared?”
“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”
Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought.
Scared of losing him.
You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.
“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”
“No.”
“What?”
“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”
Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself.
But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.
You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low.
And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.
Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.
Too weak, too weak, too weak.
Being weak is all you’ve ever known.
The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.
And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.
You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue.
The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.
“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, “I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,
“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,
“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am,
“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.
“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”
Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.
“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”
“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?”
You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.
“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”
“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.
“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.
“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”
“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you.
And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.
“I love you.”
Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’.
After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.
He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.
His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.
Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips,
He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.
“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”
He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.
“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”
Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.
“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”
He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.
In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite.
He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself.
Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.
“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.
“Only if you want to.”
“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”
“You fucking disgust me.”
Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process.
“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve.
“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”
“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”
“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”
“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”
The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest.
Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.
“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”
“Yeah, talking about fuck–”
“Wakasa!” “Dude!”
The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.
To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face
“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”
“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.
“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”
“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”
“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”
“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”
“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”
“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”
Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.
Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”
The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.
“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”
“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”
“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.
“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”
“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”
“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”
“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”
Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”
“But the lighter was him confessing!”
“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”
“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now.
“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”
Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.
“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”
“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”
“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.
He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…
“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?”
It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?”
“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.
He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”
Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines.
“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.
“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”
“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”
“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”
“Why didn’t you say anything then?”
“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct.
Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.
When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.
So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense.
“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”
“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”
“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”
“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”
“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”
“Hey!”
“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”
© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork
#shinichiro x reader#sano shinichiro x reader#shinichiro sano fluff#shinichiro fluff#sano shinichiro x you#shinichiro x you#tr fluff#tr x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#tokrev x reader#tokyo revengers fluff#master collection.#tr collection.#shinichiro sano angst#shinichiro angst#tr angst#tokyo revengers angst#tw smoking#tw hospitals#tw anxiety#tw mentions of death
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Helping Hand
My first RD fic! I haven't written proper fanfic in a hot minute but the little pixel people grabbed me by the throat and opened my google docs
Also shoutout to @nightmun for helping me visualize Ian's silly little mug
Summary: After seeing Ada struggle with the rhythm treatments, Ian comes up with a way to help her out.
Fic under the read-more :)
—
Dr. Edega loomed over her, his eyes boring into her back over the top of his clipboard.
"I expect better from you, Dr. Paige. Times are changing. If you can't keep up, then maybe you're not cut out for this job after all,” he said lowly.
Ada couldn't meet his gaze. Instead she stared down at her hands, balled into trembling fists, as her heart pounded in her ears. Burning tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she immediately felt ashamed, like a child being scolded.
She had messed up. She had been treating a patient with the rhythm defibrillator and started to panic as soon as she lost track of the tempo. Ian had frantically swooped in to take over and finished the treatment smoothly, while Ada had watched, feeling numb.
She was distantly aware of Ian pushing past her, positioning himself between her and Edega.
"D-Dr. Edega, sir—this is a very new, experimental treatment method. We're still working out the kinks and—and no one's going to be perfect at it right away."
"That's no excuse. There's no room for mistakes when lives are on the line. You both know that."
"N–Not every case we get is life-threatening," Ian said, and she was faintly surprised at the edge of anger creeping into his tone. "And she'll practice. She can—"
Edega pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"I don't care what she does as long as her performance improves. See to it that she receives more training as soon as possible. And keep looking for any bugs in the program in the meantime."
Ian opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced by a single look from Edega. He shrunk into himself.
"Y–Yes, sir. Of course."
Edega turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind him. Ada didn't realize that she was still shaking until Ian placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"Ada?" His voice sounded so far away, as though he were speaking to her from underwater. She attempted to pull herself back, focusing on the warmth of his hand as a grounding point. She placed her own fingers unsteadily over his and gave him a tremulous smile.
“I’m…okay.”
Ian watched her face, brow furrowed in concern.
"He—he shouldn't speak to you like that. I—I hate it."
She sniffled and quickly swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill under her glasses. She took a deep breath and straightened, attempting to look professional instead of pathetic.
"No. He's right. We can't afford to make stupid mistakes in this line of work. And it’s not…it’s not just him.” She remembered the way the patient’s heart rate had spiked on the monitor when she missed a beat, and let out a shaky sigh. “I just...can't stop thinking about what might have happened if you weren't here."
Ian frowned.
"Ada. You can't go beating yourself up over what might have happened."
"Sure I can," she joked weakly. Ian didn't laugh.
"We're—we're all trying our best here," he continued. "And Edega doesn't see how much you do for the patients every day. He barely comes out of his office, and when he does it's only to—to reprimand us for something or other. Everyone else in this hospital loves you. You—you're a good doctor, Ada."
As she stared at him, all of the tears that she had swallowed came rising back up in her throat. She let her head fall against his shoulder with a soft thump, and a quiet sob escaped her. She felt Ian freeze for a moment, uncertain, before he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the warmth.
"Sorry," he whispered. "Not really a hugger."
Ada let out a watery laugh.
"I know, doofus. Thank you."
She pulled back and tried in vain to wipe the tear stains from his coat.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m crying all over you. This is gross.”
“Yeah, a little bit,” Ian said. “But that’s okay.”
Ada collapsed into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling indescribably exhausted. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before letting out another long sigh. Ian sat down next to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his hand.
"Personalized care, comforting patients, that's what I'm good at,” Ada said. “You're the one who’s amazing at all the technical stuff.”
She stared up into the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents, letting her vision go blurry.
“All Edega seems to care about is getting people in and out of treatment as quickly as possible. Seems like if he has his way, pretty soon everything will be done remotely. I guess I just feel kind of useless,” she muttered.
“You’re not useless,” Ian said quietly.
Ada made a noncommittal sound.
“Like you said, there’s so many other things you’re good at. Trust me, Ada, we—we’ll always need you. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me,” he joked.
She attempted to muster a smile, but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ian frowned again and fell silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he stood abruptly, nearly startling her out of her seat.
“Oh! I—I might actually know a way to help you!” he cried, pacing excitedly. “M–Meet me in the basement when you come in tomorrow.”
Ada blinked up at him, baffled. “Oh…um…okay? What—?”
Ian was already gone, scurrying down the hallway towards the door that led to the basement. Ada shook her head bemusedly, before scooping up her clipboard from the nearby table to see which patient she needed to check on next. She took a moment and closed her eyes, mentally preparing for the rest of her shift.
Deep breaths.
She heaved herself onto her feet, and set off in the other direction towards Cole’s room.
—
When she came down to the basement the next morning, Ian looked haggard, yawning and rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. When he saw her, however, he lit up in a smile and eagerly waved her over.
“Ada! Hey! C-Come here, I have something to show you.”
On his desk was the rhythm defibrillator device, and attached to it was a new button that she didn’t recognize.
“...What’s this?” she asked as she slowly descended the stairs.
Ian spun around in his chair to face her, gesturing enthusiastically.
“I was up all night testing this, but it—it works! Basically, it modulates the detected heartbeats to—to simplify them on our end, and then it translates the button input back to the original complexity to match the patient’s heart pattern. S-So you’ll still be administering the same treatment, but it should be easier to—”
Tears welled in her eyes all over again, and Ada practically fell forward to pull him into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. Ian stiffened uncomfortably, and she suddenly remembered herself.
She stepped back and laughed sheepishly as she wiped away the tears.
“Right. Not a hugger. Sorry, I really need to be better about that.”
Ian looked at her for a moment, sighed, and then smiled. He stood from his chair and wrapped her in another hug, tighter than before.
“I’m willing to make exceptions,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Ada’s heart swelled, and she squeezed him back just as tightly. Then Ian let out a yelp as she lifted him off his feet in her excitement, and she quickly set him back down.
“Too much?”
Ian laughed weakly, smoothing down his rumpled coat.
“Too much.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She returned her attention to the new button, running her fingers over the smooth surface. It looked fairly similar to the standard one, though slightly bigger. She gently pressed it down and it made a satisfying click.
“Thank you, Ian, seriously. This is…incredible.”
Ian scratched the back of his neck bashfully.
“It’s the least I could do. You already work so hard. H–Hopefully, this’ll make your job a little easier.”
Ada suddenly remembered his words from yesterday. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me.
“You’re doing a good job, too, by the way,” she said softly. “Edega’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that. I know that a lot of your work is behind the scenes, but it’s just as important.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Ian looked away, embarrassed. “Y-You don’t have to say that.”
Ada smiled fondly.
“Just want you to know that you’ll always be my favorite radiologist.”
“I’m quite literally th–the only radiologist that we have.”
“Still.”
Ian finally broke into a smile, too. “Okay, okay. H-How about we test this thing?”
—
A week later, Ada told him that she had a gift for him, and produced a small white coffee mug from her coat pocket. Ian burst out laughing when he saw it.
“Wait, d-does that say ‘number one radiologist?’”
It was a “Number One Dad” mug from the dollar store that Ada had drawn over with a permanent marker. She had added two lines under the first D to turn it into an R, and had scribbled “-iologist” underneath, along with a little smiley face at the end. The mug soon became a permanent fixture on Ian’s desk, and she grinned to herself every time she passed by it.
#rhythm doctor#ada paige#ian rhythm doctor#fanfic#my writing#wanted to post this on ao3 but i'm currently on the waiting list :( soon#silly little rhythm game gave me brainworms. enjoy#i imagine this taking place before the intern's time. like when they're just starting out with the rhythm treatments#i noticed that ada always uses the easy button and was like. What If#edit bc i forgot to add: feel free to tag this as ship if you like! platonic or romantic i just enjoy these two a lot
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A Court of 'It's giving beauty & the beast' and 'Except you can't tell which one is which'
Spring is rotting away. Not just its Court but across the lands as well. Without it, there can be no new beginnings, no rebirths and nature itself will cease to a halt. And thus Fates dictate that a human and a broken Fae must create a miracle together.
OR
Tamlin thinks that the Mother is cruel for the salvation of his home requires another human’s help while Juno curses whatever entity that Isekai’ed her into this shitty ass book series.
AO3
Chapter 3: We’re getting rid of toxic masculinity with this one
1 down, 6 more to go. In the meantime, Lucien & Tamlin re-ignite their bromance
CH 1 | CH 2
-
The most unimaginable horror has struck within the Inner Circle of the Night Court.
Everyone who is important has gathered outside the River House's healing room, finally waiting for the doors to open. No one would admit it, but they’ve all been counting down the hours, and when they turn to days, the worst starts to sink in. Ultimately, the High Lady puts her foot down and orders them to start taking shifts. Each of them has a role to play in this Court; thus, they can’t simply abandon it.
Today marks the third day since then.
When Cassian drops by after breakfast for his shift turn, he’s surprised that almost everyone is standing guard before the door. “Any news from Madja?”
“She did the impossible,” Azriel replies against the wall. He had the night shift and, thus, was the one who called everyone to be present. “Madja somehow manages to pull Amren from the brink of death despite her… injuries. She’s now been put in an enchanted sleep to stabilise her.”
Feyre bursts into a grateful sob, to which Rhysand immediately brings her into his arms. Elain claps her hands to thank whatever deity out of there for their mercy. Prince Varian slumps hard on the couch. Mor sighs in relief though her expression is still troubled, while Cassian’s tensed shoulders are lax just a bit. It was at that moment the doors finally opened. The Night Court's most trusted and capable Healer emerges. Her ancient figure appears weary as if she’s aged another decade.
“How is Amren?” Rhysand instantly inquires.
Madja sighs, exhaustion creeps into her very bones. “Alive, for the better or worse. Your Second-in-Command’s healing magic can no longer support itself so I had to siphoned most of mine. I did whatever I could to straighten every broken bones and patched up any excessive internal healings.”
“How bad is she?” This time, it’s brave Feyre who asks. The rest of their courtiers are content to follow their lead and listen attentively.
“I won’t mince words, High Lady. Throughout my years as a Healer, this is one of the most horrifying cases that I’ve ever seen.” Madja begins with a look of disgust, and it chills Feyre. “From what I can tell from Lady Amren’s injuries, she was thrown off the House of the Wind’s stairs that it utterly mangled her body. Then there’s an issue with the internal tears on the lower half of her body. There’s no way to say this, but she was violently gang raped, beaten and healed continously; the bruises, semen and handprints were obvious enough. Lastly, she was burned alive; perhaps as an effort to dispose the body? If that’ was the case, the perpetrators used a large quantity of alcohol because the scent lingered. Unfortunately, I can only managed to heal the scorched marks on her legs and arms. The face was too severe for me to do anything but mend Lady Amren’s nose and eyes.”
Elain’s face is green with nausea. She quickly excuses herself for the bathroom while the rest struggles to accept Madja’s report. Feyre and Varian are beyond stricken - the prince runs into the room, inconsolable. Mor is sick to her stomach, and Azriel and Cassian close their eyes; such violence shakes even them.
“Thrown off the 1000 steps, beaten, raped, healed and burned alive,” Rhysand repeats emotionlessly, his face tight. “In that order?”
Madja inclines her head. “Yes, High Lord.”
“Thank you. For updating us and everything. Please do whatever else you can to help Amren recovered.”
The Healer bows and returns to the healing room. To continue the treatment and console Varian. The doors shut once more, and that’s when Feyre pitifully exclaims, “How in the Mother’s name could this have happened!? It’s Amren! Amren, for goodness sake! She’s the second most powerful among us after Rhysand!”
Azriel grimace. “I’m still investigating it,” He was the one who found Amren a couple of nights back. The sight of her became his most recent vivid nightmares lately. “By all accounts, this doesn’t make sense. Amren hasn’t left her apartment at all ever since she got her hands on a rare magical tome. We all are aware of it; she could barely hold herself back from bragging about it.”
“And she personally wards her apartments,” Cassian reminds them, brows furrowing. “No one should be able to enter without her explicit consent or if it’s one of us.”
This new mystery doesn’t bode well for any of them, especially Rhysand. If someone as powerful as Amren could be assaulted right underneath his nose, it means his position as a High Lord is faltering. Not to mention their security risk is now at an all-time high. Velaris should’ve been completely safe from outside threats and with Azriel’s constant presence and shadows, the city is basically assassin-proofed! Doubt begins to seep in. “I’m afraid there’s a powerful enemy roaming within Velaris as we speak,” Rhysand announces, making everyone’s attention turn to him. “Since Amren is my Second, I’ll personally take over the investigation, Azriel. There’s something else I’d rather you look into in the meantime. For now, no one goes anywhere alone. We need to make it a habit of telling each other where we’ll be going from now on. Feyre darling, it will set my heart at ease if you stay here and close to our son. This is the safest place in the entire Court.”
Feyre nods, and a fierce sense of determination burns in her. “I’ll have Elain stay close. It’ll be good if Nyx is familiar with her aunt. Speaking of which, you need to inform Nesta of the situation, Cassian. I know she’s been making progress with her Valkyries, but it’ll be better if you and her could live her for a couple of days until our unknown threat is dealt with.”
“Of course. I’ll fly Nesta in as soon as I can.” Cassian replies.
They easily divide themselves up afterwards. Cassian wastes no time flying back to Illyria for his Mate. Mor joins Madja and Varian in the healing room. Feyre goes to find her sister and son. That just left Rhysand and Azriel who reconvene in the High Lord’s private office.
“How are you feeling?” Azriel asks as soon as the door shuts behind him. He studies Rhysand’s features carefully.
“Unease? Concern? Take your pick, Az.” Rhysand sighs. “Amren has always been untouchable. To find out that she was debased like this…” He trails off, unsure how to say it. If this new threat could easily assault his Second, then it won’t be long before he’s next in line.
“It’s a horrifying wake up call for sure.”
“Amren will pull through; she always has. In the mean time, we can hand this sick bastard on a silver platter when she wakes up. Now, tell me about the leads.”
Azriel’s head slightly jerk to the side, breaking off eye contact. It’s as if he’s ashamed, and that couldn’t be right. “The shadows whisper a lot of things but nothing reliable lately. All I know is that Amren was reading when the attack happened. The layout of her apartment remains just as she left it. Whoever this is, stealth is their utmost speciality. Ward manipulation as well.”
Rhysand runs his fingers through his hair, he can feel frustration bubbling up. “Right. That’s better than nothing. Although investigation is not my strongest suit, perhaps I can detect some foreign magic among her hoards.”
Azriel silently wishes his brother all the best of luck. “And what do you want me to do?”
“Your newest assignment is the Spring Court. I want you to look around for a bit; figure out what Tamlin and his new Mate are up to. She mentioned a strange word during the High Lords' meeting. I’m worried if it might be some kind of weapon.” Rhysand explains, deep in thought. He truly thought he had seen the last of Tamlin, content with the belief that the pathetic High Lord would waste his days away in exile. For him to appear with a Mate in his arm sends off every alarm bell. He’s certain that Tamlin is planning something insidious once more.
“Understood. What do you want me to do about his Mate?”
Rhysand recalls what Feyre said to him. “For now, don’t show yourself to her. She’s human. Feyre dislikes her attitude when she tries to warn the female about Tamlin. She’s ungrateful, rude and strange. It sounds like she and Tamlin make the perfect pair.” He snorts. He can’t imagine any female that can put up with Tamlin, Mate or otherwise. If only he Winnowed earlier…
The two continue discussing the finer details of Azriel’s new mission for about 2 hours. Once the Spymaster is properly debriefed, Azriel excuses himself. He’s about to seek out Mor first before leaving the River House, only for a voice to stop him:
“Is it true? Does Tamlin have a Mate?”
When Azriel slowly turns around, there’s Lucien. He’s dressed as impeccable as well, with his red mane in a ponytail. “Doesn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to eavesdrop, fox?”
“Why would I bother to eavesdrop on your very important meeting with Rhysand?” Lucien counters, rolling his eyes. “I just came back from the Wall and wanted to confirm something. Rumours has it that the High Lord of the Spring Court made an appearance during the latest High Lords meeting with a human. Is it true?”
“…It is.”
Azriel watches as an indescribable expression takes over Lucien’s face. He glares at him. “It would be unwise for an emissary of the Night Court to meddle with the affairs of other Courts.”
“Is that a threat, Spymaster?”
“Take it as a friendly warning,” Azriel suggests. Unlike the rest of the Inner Circle, Azriel is still incredibly wary of Lucien, and like hell, will he ever underestimate this Fae when there are still so many things that they don’t know about him. Especially with his intention on Elain, no matter what he claimed. “The situation is becoming dangerous. You wouldn’t want to end up on the other end of someone’s pointed finger.” The implication is clear - any suspicion activities or behaviours from Lucien would mean his newest living quarters to be in the dungeons. And with that, he stalks deeper into the House. Done with the conversation.
Lucien’s mouth presses into a thin line.
He knows what happened to Amren and hears of the monster hiding in the city. Personally, staying in Velaris and keeping the populace ignorant is a horrible idea. Still, he has a feeling that Rhysand wouldn’t announce anything just so he could maintain any semblance of control when in reality, anywhere is safer than the Night Court right now, and Lucien has always been a survivor against all odds. The Spring Court and its High Lord were once his home and friend, and now with such deep bad blood running between them, would he survive Tamlin once more?
He makes his decision.
-
“When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive? It wasn’t hard to realise. Love’s the death of peace of mind.” Juno sings using the broom as a makeshift microphone. She’s currently cleaning the master bedroom. Or at least she was.
Today marks the third day since Tamlin disappeared.
She tries not to feel guilty, it’s a feeling akin to slimy tar. She did nothing wrong! She told him about her powers as soon as she got the hang of it and was genuinely honest when she said she would never use it maliciously against him. That should be enough to prove that she’s not like Amarantha… right?
Juno sighs and stops sweeping. Having a conscious can be a pain in the ass sometimes. No longer in the mood, she strides over to a wholly intact dresser where her phone is blaring Bad Omen’s playlist. “Shit, 60% already? And my power bank is dead AF. I really need to stop using my phone so much.” She mourns the inevitable loss of her screen time. Should she start journalling whatever notes she has about ACOTAR somewhere? No, no - she doesn’t want the deal with the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. At least her phone is password-protected. Oh! That reminds her, she needs to have another serious talk with Tamlin about protection against Daematis and she has just the most hilarious contingency plans!
“A man needs his space. That’s what they always say, right?” Juno muses to herself. She’s torn between searching out for Tamlin and staying in the manor. The magic has been returning to him nicely ever since Tamlin has been training and taking care of himself again, so she’s not worried about him (and she doubts she would ever be, to be honest). “I guess I can give him one more day. We really need to start tackling the Rot soon, though. Democracy is way overdue.”
Suddenly, there’s a sharp ripple in the air, and Juno finds herself no longer alone.
“He was right…”
Juno props her arm on the broom and the other one on her hip as she greets this stranger. “Red hair. Cute eye. Handsome face but not as tall as Maedhros. You must be Lucien - now this is a surprise.”
Lucien tilts his head. “Tamlin told you about me?” He didn’t expect that. He fully resigned that whatever friendship they had before had become painful memories - even the good ones. Lucien also didn’t expect such nonchalance from Tamlin’s human. But Feyre was also once a human. That was a painful lesson Lucien had learnt.
“No.” She beams. “So what brings you back to the Spring Court? Finally missed your bestie?”
She’s strange, evidently so. Lucien has never met a human this blasé, as if she has no care in the world despite that he just came in out of nowhere. Has she gotten used to Prythian and, by extension, Fae-kind? Feyre’s initial hatred of them makes her transition period difficult, not to mention that her life was in danger the moment she killed Andras. Another ghost of the past that Lucien will forever carry. “Curiosity leads me here,” He decided and carefully looked around. The manor is still in a horrible state of disrepair, but judging from the broom, she and Tamlin have been cleaning up. The thought oddly makes him relieved. “You know my name but I never did catch yours.”
“It’s Juno. Just Juno. If you want to talk to Tamlin then you’re out of luck. He’s been wandering somewhere for a few days now. I would play the part of a good host and offer you tea or some shit but we don’t have them right now.”
“No, that’s alright,” Lucien hastily replies, his hand raised to stop her. He’s not sure if he even wants to see Tamlin again just yet. “Thank you for the offer. I just…” He shuts up, conflicted with his wants and emotions.
The human female hums. “I can hazard a guess that you weren’t just curious about little ol’ me. You want to know how Tamlin is doing. Some guilty conscious perhaps? Now that’s a bitch and a half. Well, you can either help me clean up as we wait for the Beasty to return to his lair or vamoose back to whoever you came from. I’ll update Tamlin that you drop by. Heh. I always wanted to use that word - vamoose!”
“You’re unlike any human female I’ve ever met in my travels,” Lucien can’t help but admit. Fascinate and wary at the same time. “The way how you carry yourself and speak are foreign to me. How did you ended up in Prythian?”
Juno throws her hands up. The broom clatters on the floor. “Fuck it if I know! Now are you staying or what? I could use some handy air magic to move the rubbles.”
Lucien supposed he could discover what Tamlin had been up to through his Mate. If he’s lucky enough, Tamlin won’t return for a few more days.
“Sure. Where do you want me?”
“The wing where you guys kept that Mayo Muncher, Yoghurt Yoddler - whatever. Tamlin gave me the green light to do a total makeover when I asked so you’re gonna be my sledgehammer.”
“Did… did you mean Feyre?”
“Sorry! I keep forgetting her name. Now let’s go! I’ll answer any questions you got. Seems that’s a trend with you Faes.”
Unbeknownst to Lucien and Juno, Tamlin returns on the same day. Having had enough of wandering aimlessly and with nothing but the Rot as far as he could see, he made peace with more things in his life. While moving forward is incredibly difficult, he owes it to himself and his Court. It’s not about redemption, but finding means where you can be at peace in life. That there’s a viciously petty goddess in human form living with him for the foreseeable future. All in all, not a lot to work with, but it’s high time Tamlin starts somewhere. With that newfound determination, he made his way back home. When he passes through familiar landmarks, he can hear loud noises from somewhere in the manor.
Panic grips his heart. His every thought turns to Juno.
Still in his beast skin, Tamlin leaps inside and rushes to the wing where the walls incessantly haunt him and old paintings he couldn't bear to destroy nestled in various corners. When he notices the redhead beside his human, Tamlin’s claws immediately dig into the ground, grounding his tracks. Lucien immediately spins around and places himself between Tamlin and Juno, flight or fight instincts taking over. His eyes widen when he realises that it’s the High Lord.
“Tamlin? You’re back! We didn’t expect you.” Lucien greets hesitantly. He glances at Juno, who nods before stepping aside.
The Beast transforms into a Fae. Despite wearing a set of loose white shirt, a pair of brown pants and long blond hair wild, Tamlin is ever the picture-perfect image of a prince. “Lucien. Never thought I’d see you again.” His eyes glance at Juno. He doesn’t know what to feel when she shakes her head.
Lucien, for the record, scoffs. “The feelings mutual. The last time we spoke, you were more beast than Fae. There was nothing that I said that could get through you.”
Tamlin takes a step back, his hands ball into fists. Seeing his reaction, Lucien ducks in shame.
“Ok. Y’all need some real talk,” Juno decided, eyes shifting from the two of them. “Get it out of your system but please don’t destroy anything, alright? It’ll be a bitch to clean up afterwards. Actually, wait. Go stupid, go crazy; if this entire wing blows it, it’ll be easier for us to build something new!” She gives them a thumbs up and skedaddles without looking behind.
“Your Mate is something else.” Lucien says in apropos of nothing. “She’s not the kind of female I imagined for you.”
Tamlin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to correct his once best friend that the Mate thing was just a ruse so that they could easily dupe the other High Lords and their own Mates, but since they no longer have that trust between them, he instead replies, “Did she forced you to help her moved the rubbles?”
“In exchange for information,” Lucien answers without shame. “Though it were mostly about her. I sensed that she speaks the truth but then again, I’m not Morrigan. It doesn’t help that most of her words makes no sense to me.”
“It’s just how she is,” Tamlin settles instead—his demeanour changes, opting for a more serious stance. Slipping into the role of the High Lord has long become his second skin. “Though the fact that an emissary of the Night Court not only trespassed into my home, he was also in close proximity to my Mate. That’s a crime that deserves death. Did you forgot, Lucien?”
The redhead slowly shakes his head, sorrowful, given his history. “Never, High Lord.”
“Then why are you here? Did Rhysand send you?”
“No. No, Tamlin. I came here on my own accord.”
“Why!? Why now and not… not before!? Not after you left me for good!”
“I just need to know that you’re doing alright!” Lucien shouts, his voice thick with despair. “You were my friend, Tamlin! You gave me a place, a home, when I lost everything I knew! I will never forget what you did for me. And to me. You lost yourself so quickly that no matter what I did, I couldn’t reach out to you anymore. I tried, Tamlin; I did! But you were so hellbent on drowning in your emotions that I could hardly recognised you. And then after what Feyre did to the Spring Court ever after I told her that we needed you as an ally - ”
Tamlin swallows roughly. Feyre was the breaking point, shattering whatever he had left - pride, reputation, respect and a long-time friend. But it wasn’t all Feyre’s doing in the end, was it? He’s mature enough to admit that. Mother, what a situation they find themselves in. “I’m sorry.”
Lucien’s jaw is instantly on the floor, gobsmacked. Go big or go home, Juno muttered that once when she tried - and failed - to follow Tamlin’s easiest recipe for a lemon cake.
“I’m sorry. I-I regretted hurting you the most. You were a good friend to the very end. May you found someone worthy of your trust and affection.” A knot untangles in Tamlin’s heart. A burden released finally. It doesn’t matter if Lucien refuses to accept his apology. It’s a closure that he never knew he needed. Though he feels slightly lighter, he’s also tired. When will he truly be free of exhaustion?
“Thank you,” Lucien says when he finds his tongue again. “That means a lot to me. Is your new growth thanks to your Mate?”
“Please, that woman is many things. Vulnerable conversations isn’t one of them.”
“Ah. I reckon she’s a handful?”
“That’s a gross understatement…” Tamlin mutters. He clears his throat awkwardly. “If you’re not here on Rhysand’s orders then it’s not safe for you to be here, Lucien. His paranoia knows no bounds.”
Lucien nods. “Watch your back, Tamlin; your Mate’s too. I fear a new threat is upon us. Oh, and you didn’t hear this from me but a certain Spymaster might be lurking around soon. Remember; you didn’t hear it from me.”
The thought of Azriel snooping around, looking for his weaknesses and potentially sabotaging what they’re trying to do should enrage Tamlin. Instead, he’s not bothered by it. Not anymore.
“I appreciate the heads up. My Mate will handle it.”
-
Azriel lands in the middle of a forest of the Spring Court.
The moon hangs high in the night sky. It’s not as pretty as the canvas above Velaris.
It’s dead silent, Azriel notices. Even the nocturnal animals are nowhere to be found, which kicks the Spymaster’s heightened senses into overdrive. He purposely avoided landing anywhere near Tamlin’s manor as a precaution; better to play it on the safe side in case the High Lord is roaming around in his Beast form. He tried asking Elain if she Saw anything out of the ordinary, but all she gave him was Tamlin and Juno cooking dinner together. Azriel couldn’t imagine someone as feral as Tamlin to be so domesticated, but he wisely kept that to himself. He thanked Elain for the trouble, though.
The dry leaves crunch underneath his boots as Azriel emerges from the looming forest. The shadows that dance behind the trees whisper all sorts of things to him:
“Sick. Sick. The lands are so sick.”
“One with us. The Beast is one with us.”
“The young can no longer grow.”
“The winds of change carries vengeance with them.”
Concerning but not useful at the moment. He scrutinised his surroundings; nothing but a barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. The landscapes are hardly recognisable that for a brief moment, Azriel wonders if he’s even in the Spring Court. Everything is either dead or dying.
Azriel begins his reconnaissance as methodically as possible - taking in every detail he can see before making his way to the manor, mindful to keep to the shadows in case of any surprises. Unfortunately, one surprise did catch the Spymaster off guard.
He was so focused on the world around him that he failed to notice the thick tree stump 3 steps before him, causing Azriel to slip and fall hands first into a pile of animal faeces. It’s still warm. He curses his luck; he’ll never salvage his pride again if Cassian and Rhysand know about this! He quickly regains his composure and flies to the nearest lake to wash off. It didn’t take long for him to find it.
The lake's surface is murky grey, intensely so even when reflected by the moonlight.
“Azriel… my sweet boy. Will you turn around and look at your mother?”
He stops washing his hands. Blood runs ice cold as he realises the gravity of the situation.
“My son… can you hear me? Please, just… turn around so I can see how much you’ve grown.”
His leathery wings tuck close by instinct, a habit of curling himself small so he could fit on his mother’s lap when he was a boy. Azriel’s body shakes as it takes his entire willpower not to turn around.
“Azriel? Oh, sweetheart; I forgive you for abandoning me. You just need to TuRN aRoUND.”
More voices from all around him. More Bogges closing in on the Illyrian - surrounding him. The very air ripples with malignant intents. The hair on the back of his neck raises in alarm when he feels phantom claws running down his arms. A mockery of his mother’s hug. This doesn’t make sense! He thought that there were none left in the Spring Court!?
“Azriel… are you going to be just like your father? Turn around if you still love me. Turn around!”
He can’t fight the Bogges. Not in their intangible form, and acknowledging them will mean instant death. Shit, shit! He needs to fly away; he needs to retreat -
Cold, wet hands suddenly grab his. He instinctively jerks away, but it’s too late - a swarm of deranged water-wraiths cackled as they drag him to a watery grave. Sinking and sinking and sinking, the surface is getting farther and farther away as the wraiths attack a struggling Azriel. They claw his face, gnaw on his legs and dig into his torso, tainting the already filthy water with blood. He manages to draw his sword, but his swings are slow as they cut through water while the monster deftly dodges his every attack. Some even mocked him. When a pair begins pulling at his wings, panic and pain set in. His brain asks him a question: Die via drowning or consumed by Bogges?
Azriel chooses neither. With a powerful burst of his wings, the pressure pushed the water-wraiths away just enough for him to swim back up and into the sky. He has to retreat - he needs to - his injuries are too deep, and one of the Water-Wraiths manages to claw him in the eye. He can’t heal on land where the Bogges await their meal.
It’s with deep shame that Azriel fly back to the Night Court. His mission is abandoned for now.
In the manor in the distance, Juno watches the speck of black dot vanish between the stars. She raises a glass of water in his direction.
“Better luck next time, Ass-riel.”
#lady writes#fanfic#acotar#anti ic#anti sjm#pro tamlin#modern girl in prythian au#cw: rape#cw: violence
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bestie seb. i present to you my first thought dump for mr rhett abbott:
you were rhett’s first real relationship. he was so happy with you the first few weeks and then his feelings started to get bigger. he started to feel so many strong emotions and he realized he cared about you so much that it scared him, like a lot. so what did he do? the only logical thing in his brain. put on his stoic and cold exterior and breakup with you.
the part that hurt the most about the breakup for you was the rhett that ended things with you was not your rhett. your rhett spoke softly and his words flowed freely. the rhett that ended things with you talked to you with an icy demeanor and heavily calculated statements. yet here you are, six weeks after your breakup, your friends have finally dragged you out to the bar.
the same friends were on high alert because not long after y’all had made your entrance so did the man who broke your heart. they had been working tirelessly all night to keep him from crossing into your line of sight to preserve the happy mood you’ve finally settled into.
“i need to pee i’ll be right back.” they do a quick sweep to ensure rhett is not going to enter your peripherals on your trip to and from the bathroom and then say they’ll order you another drink in the meantime.
your self proclaimed bodyguards had clocked the way that rhett’s gaze rarely had left you since he came into the bar. the second he stepped in and his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit bar his eyes were like magnets drawn to you. yet he had kept his distance so they let their guard down with you gone in the bathroom, taking this time to just chat with each other without keeping their heads on a swivel. this, however, was their biggest mistake. rhett was very aware of the game of protector your friends were playing and when he saw them relax as you made your way down the hall to the bathrooms he knew this was his chance. he stood slowly, both out of caution of alerting your friends of his movement and as a response to the countless whiskeys he had consumed while watching you.
when rhett deemed he was in the clear, he did his best to quickly and swiftly follow the path you had taken.
you were just exiting the bathroom, having just spent the last five minutes crying because even though you were having a good time your heart was still aching and then trying to make it look like you hadn’t been crying, when rhett entered the hallway to the bathrooms and your gaze snapped up from the floor.
“hey sweet girl” rhett softly spoke with a tell tale slurring together of his words. he was drunk. but your heart fluttered after he spoke. his soft tone, it was your rhett, again. but you’ve listened to too many hours of breakup playlists to give in at just that, you couldn’t give him any special attention, it was your turn to turn cold, so you put on the best act you could.
“rhett.” that was all you could get out without giving yourself away. you spoke his name in a tone dripping in disinterest but your throat was hoarse from the sobs you just let out so there was your telltale, the gravel that shows up in your voice when you’ve been crying.
he noticed it. when he heard it, he took in your appearance carefully, your eyes were slightly puffy and no longer were framed in the mascara you had on when you left your friends. the two of you were at a standstill in the hall, rhett staring intently at you as he stood with a slight sway and an occasional shuffle, and you were avoiding meeting his gaze, arms folding across your chest, an attempt at closing you off from anymore heart ache from him.
“my sweet-my sweet girl, i miss you.” he spoke with a hiccup.
an immediate scoff passed your lips at the audacity of the man in front of you or at the audacity of your heart to skip a beat. that was it, you needed to get out of this hallway before your limited resolve crumbled.
“okay rhett, tell me that when you’re sober. now, if you’ll excuse me.”
not looking to stick around any longer, you push past him and walk quickly to your friends at the bar, you hurriedly tell them to close the tabs and then start filling them in once you are on the outside of the bar. ever the good friends, once they get you home they ask if you want them to stay with you for the night but you insist you’re fine and just want to go to sleep. which you did. until a knock at your door woke you up promptly with the sunrise.
you begrudgingly trudge to your door, not bothering to check who it is and expecting it to be your friends bringing coffee and breakfast to watch the sunrise and debrief. you were instead met with rhett. he was freshly shaven and showered, dressed in your favorite shirt of his, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and looking at you with the uneasiest eyes. you open your mouth to hopefully find words to say to him but promptly shut it as he speaks, his voice has a nervous shake but is soft. your rhett speaks.
“i’m sober and i miss you.”
AAAAHHHHHH WHAT OMG MY HEART
the part that hurt the most about the breakup for you was the rhett that ended things with you was not your rhett. your rhett spoke softly and his words flowed freely. the rhett that ended things with you talked to you with an icy demeanor and heavily calculated statements. yet here you are, six weeks after your breakup, your friends have finally dragged you out to the bar.
AAAAAAH WAIT YOUR HEART??? WHAT ABOUT MINE??????? IM DYING OUT HERE BESTIE
that paragraph above had my whole heart flutter and then shatter to pieces in seconds because that is so painfully accurate to how rhett could be. but then on the flip side, when rhett realizes what he’s lost he knows he can’t loose anyone else so he’ll be there with a fresh shave and flowers in his hand to apologise. you bet your ass i’m gonna make him grovel though.
also, this whole piece is insanely written and i still cannot believe you send me this stuff, for free!!!!!!!! i love this and your writing so much and i’m so honored that i get to receive rhett thoughts now too <33
thank you so much for this bestie!! i could kiss you!! 💌
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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
[Chapter 19-20 of the Manhwa]
[The Divine Beast’s egg should not be left unattended.]
[That’s right.]
When did Darren come again?
[It should take precedence over anything else.]
[That’s right.]
[It’s a lifelong regret in our family so hurry and wrap it up—]
Stop, stop!
“I got it.”
She hastily shut the mouths of Herschel, who was rambling on, and the butler ghost, Darren, who was agreeing with him.
“I’ll find the Divine Beast’s egg. As soon as possible.”
[R-Really?]
"But first, I need to prepare something."
[Prepare something?]
Darren’s face went from pleased to grim. He suspected that Camilla would find another excuse to put off the search for the Divine Beast’s egg.
‘Well, people won’t believe me.’
She’s been meaning to get started for a while now.
She couldn’t think of anything better than this.
“Ahem…”
Camilla touched her neck and cleared her throat. And then…
“AHHHHHHH!”
She screamed with all her might so the whole mansion could hear.
[…!]
[…!]
The sound startled Herschel and Darren, who quickly stepped to one side.
Swoosh!
“Lady! What’s wrong!?”
A few moments later, the door opened and Donna came running in.
“Wh-What is it?”
“Miss Camilla?”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“What was that scream? What happened?”
The other maids and servants who had been waiting on the same floor came running.
The Duke's men were certainly a lot quicker to act than before.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
When Donna saw Camilla, who was shaking and blue-faced, she rushed over to her and asked if she was okay.
The other servants and maids looked worried, wondering what was going on. Had there been an intruder?
Several servants were seen rushing outside to call for the soldiers.
But Camilla can only shiver and say nothing. She couldn’t even hold the glass of water Donna offers her.
“Camilla!”
In the meantime, the Duke of Sorpel burst into the room, as if he had heard the news.
Camilla's trembling body calmed as if it were a lie as she faced the Duke of Sorpel.
Instead, her expression was blank as she looked at him. Then her eyes narrowed, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Camilla!”
“Father…”
“What’s wrong!?”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
Camilla squeezed the Duke of Sorpel’s hand as he came closer. She sobbed as she spoke.
“In my— in my dream, father…”
“Dream?”
“Fire… big fire… heuk…”
“…”
“A lot of fabric in father’s office…”
“Fabric?”
"There's a big fire--- heuk, but even if I tell you to come out, even if I pull you out, you won't come out, you’re in the fire--- heuk…”
The faces of those gathered in the room turned. All this fuss over a dream?
Among them, Ravi was the one with the most unappealing expression on his face.
He looked at her as if she was going to keep doing all kinds of crazy things, as if she hadn't already done enough.
‘Why is he here?’
He didn't come out last night, claiming to be busy in his lab.
Ludville was standing quietly to one side. Was her scream that loud?
She screamed to make as much noise as possible, but she became a little embarrassed.
"You came in to rescue me from the fire…”
At that moment, the Duke of Sorpel opened his mouth.
A slight tremor could still be felt in Camilla's hand as she gripped his own tightly.
Duke Sorpel's eyes softened at the sight.
The fact that Camilla jumped into the fire to save herself, even though it was a dream, was very touching.
"I'm so surprised, heuk, I'm sorry."
"No, no, you must have been very scared."
The Duke of Sorpel stroked Camilla's hair with a pleased expression.
‘Okay.’
She didn't care if others thought it was silly. All she needed was the Duke of Sorpel.
‘Although, this isn’t what it’s for.’
There was something that came to mind after her meeting with Lila this afternoon.
Around this time, a large fire breaks out in a textile mill run by the Sorpel family.
It wasn't the family's main business, but it kept the Duke of Sorpel busy and out of the house for a while.
She didn’t know the exact date, but it happened not long after Lila transferred— perhaps within a week.
Swoosh!
“Duke!”
Just then, the door burst open with a loud bang, and the aide, Jakter, rushed inside.
“What happened?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
“Problem?”
The Duke of Sorpel’s expression changed in an instant as he glared at Zakter for barging into Camilla's room without knocking.
He knew it wasn't going to be a simple matter if he had to come so late at night.
"A major fire broke out at a textile mill in the Berg region."
“A fire?”
Camilla, who was listening to Zakter, was very flustered. Wow, what timing.
"Yes, thankfully it's late in the night so there were no casualties, but it's going to put the factory out of commission for a while now."
“Hm, let’s go to the office first.”
“Yes.”
The Duke of Sorpel stopped in his tracks as he and Jakter made their way outside, his gaze falling on Camilla, who had finally stopped crying.
He remembered what Camilla had said earlier. She said that the piles of fabric in his office were on fire.
So did the others. They all stared at Camilla in amazement.
It wasn't just the house that burned down, it was the fabric that was stacked there!
But people soon went back to what they were doing, thinking, ‘Oh, it's a coincidence,’ or at least a little mystified.
‘I’m curious, too. It’s fascinating.’
How did she get the timing right?
Camilla flashed an awkward smile as she slowly sipped the water Donna handed her.
[Groundwork?]
“Yes.”
[…?]
[What kind of groundwork?]
Herschel and Darren didn't understand what Camilla was saying right away.
What did she mean, the screams she made last night to find the Divine Beast’s egg? They couldn’t understand at all.
“What would people say if I suddenly found the Divine Beast’s egg?”
[They’ll be very pleased.]
“…”
She wonders if everyone becomes that simple when they die.
“They’ll be very pleased for a while, but what about after that?”
[After that?]
“How did you know where the Divine Beast’s egg was, and how did you find them?”
[Hmm.]
[Perhaps.]
“Then what am I supposed to say?”
[That’s—]
“What if I told the truth that the late Sir Herschel told me? Wouldn’t they say that Camilla Sorpel finally lost her mind?”
[…]
“That’s why I need to lay the groundwork.”
[You're going to tell them that you saw the place where the Divine Beast’s egg is in your dream?]
“Yes.”
[Well, will people believe that?]
[I’m thinking the same thing, Miss Camilla.]
Camilla nodded obediently.
She didn't expect people to believe me right away when she told them that she had seen a fire in a dream and she guessed right.
“So I have to lay more groundwork.”
[More?]
[How?]
Camilla merely smirked at Herschel and Darren’s questions. Just then, the carriage they were riding in screeched to a halt.
“Lady, we have arrived.”
Through the door the coachman opened for her, Camilla slowly stepped out of the carriage. In front of her was a small shop.
They looked through the window of the store and saw a display of baby products.
[Why here?]
“I’m going to buy some materials to lay in the groundwork.”
[Materials?]
Camilla made her way to the store, leaving a puzzled Herschel and Darren behind.
Then they asked her a final question.
[By the way, yesterday. How did you know there was going to be a fire in the textile factory? Is it really a coincidence?]
[I'm wondering that too, Miss, how on earth did you know?]
[It’s a coincidence, right?]
[It makes too much sense to be a coincidence].
Camilla's performance as she sobbed that she was having a dream was superb.
The acting was so realistic that even Herschel and Darren, who watched the whole thing from the sudden screaming, were tricked as well.
The most surprising thing was how Camilla knew about the fire at the factory. She couldn't have just blurted it out.
“Ah! I’m so busy.”
Camilla could feel the two ghosts' prying eyes on her, but she hurried into the store, pretending not to notice.
"Is the Duke inside?"
“Yes, they’re waiting.”
Rube, the butler, who was waiting for him at the entrance, greeted him politely.
Shairon. The oldest and closest vassal family to the Duke of Sorpel.
The reason for his visit to the Duke today was the fire at the textile mill that had occurred a few days earlier.
His normally relaxed face had visibly stiffened.
As someone in a position to manage and be responsible for the factory, this was inexcusable.
Luckily, the damage wasn't too bad, but it took quite a while to get the factory up and running again.
‘Phew.’
Letting out a short sigh, he quietly followed behind the butler, Rube.
“Hm?”
A moment later, Count Shairon’s steps came to a halt. Someone was walking down the hallway toward his office.
Count Shairon bowed his head lightly in greeting.
"Long time no see. Lady Camilla."
She smiled and replied graciously.
“Yes, it’s been a while. Count Shairon.”
Seeing his expression harden, Camilla allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of her mouth.
"You must be here about this factory fire."
“Yes.”
A sigh escaped his lips at the word fire, and he looked at Camilla with a bit of surprise in his eyes.
Did she know that the factory that caught fire was under his management?
He thought she wasn’t interested in the family business at all.
“Don’t worry too much.”
Camilla comforted him. Drawing on her previous experience, she also gave him a subtle comment.
"I eavesdropped and found out that they're planning to double the size of the mill and build a new one.”
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Journal Entry || COVAIRECITYRP TASK 019
Ah. It’s time. Time for another entry to this little book of mine. And this week was quite a success. With Mathis taking a vacation, I was tasked with with picking up another piece of cargo for the city. An absolute pathetic excuse for a man. A man of not only accused of smuggling firearms into smaller countries, but also of creating an army with the intent of attacking a Prime Minister. Now, you wouldn’t think that’d make him a pathetic excuse for a man. No, this vile creature attempted to use children for this massacre. The scumbag planned to send in a group of children under the guise of a field trip. From what I’d been told, he had an in with a woman on this mans house keeping staff whom he had help with smuggling the weapons in for the children. And the “chaperones” with the children were some of pawns who gave the children their orders and disappeared without a trace.
But something somewhere went wrong inside. All hell broke loose in their. I’ll spare those details. Moving along, they managed to catch the bastard somewhere in Morocco and were holding him in a maximum security cell awaiting transfer. That’s when we got the call: a contact of Mathis reached out about this prick, asking if the city would take him of their hands, as the hell we had to offer was exactly what we deserved. So I got to go pick him up. I’m not sure what happened in the meantime, but by the time I’d gotten there, the SOB had overpowered and killed the two guards assigned to his duty. JFC humans are weak. He managed to flee their custody, how I have no idea. But I got to be the one to track him down.
And man was it easy. The dumbass didn’t think to lay low until the heat was off. No, the dumb fuck decided to take a whole train hostage. He thought he could exchange the lives of the passengers for money and a fucking plane to an unknown location. Idiot, that shit never works on TV, can’t believe he thought it’d work. It was easy slipping onto the train while he distracted with the idiot negotiator. They wanted to draw it out and get a shot on him, but to me that was too easy of a punishment. So I got the drop on him, easily attacking from behind with my belt around his throat. He’d left most of his hostages in the next train car, and when I got there, the two he had as human shields were able to use my distraction to hide. He shot off a couple rounds in the roof before his gun went flying as he struggled to release my grip from his throat. And once he slipped into sweet oblivion, I had him restrained while the humans freed the hostages. When all was said and done, I was approached by our contact, who’d been a part of the whole negotiation process and we arranged for the pathetic fuck to accompany us back to the city.
I’d say that was a damn good accomplishment on my part. (Even if it was easy.)
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BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT
Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.
okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it
(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)
oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this
isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs
anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris
meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this
(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)
lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you
HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT
oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid
well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks
yep
they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time
lmaooo Jeanist wtf
acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh
ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE
so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then
and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol
I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time
okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might
also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??
AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM
OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!
JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST
-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --
( •̀_•́ )
[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure
-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO
everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol
HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF
-- OH
well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj
oh snap
well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility
though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that
their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal
the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji
so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!
is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??
so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad
the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it
moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for
not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts
so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage
and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true
wow she’s really getting fired up
and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN
hmmfsdgh
this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys
wait, hold up
CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit
holy shit. well, this will go over well
okay! so this tells me a number of things, though
basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family
Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody
but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment
but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them
so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves
(ETA: okay so @hanashimas’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)
anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko
can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed
(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)
now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess
(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)
LMAO DAMMIT ENJI
YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE
-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT
TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG
WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!
FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT
MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!
AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL
WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT
LOL AND MEANWHILE
you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left
OH??
“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well
SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS
( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )
SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK
WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK
HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK
OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD
THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!
RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH
HE TOLD EVERYONE!?
WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER
(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)
OH HELL NO
the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!
MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK
I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK
FUCK
WHAT. THE. FUCK
y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE
okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID
he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT
love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely
APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE
“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD
“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE
WHERE. IS. KACCHAN
did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT
omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao
#bnha 306#midoriya izuku#hawks (bnha)#takami keigo#endeavor#todoroki enji#best jeanist#all might#uraraka ochako#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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Gilded Cage
A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!
Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes
************
At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.
He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.
And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.
He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.
She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.
And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.
God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.
Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.
But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.
Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.
It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.
On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.
Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-
And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.
To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.
Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.
It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.
She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.
But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.
Never like this, though.
Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.
“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.
She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.
As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.
She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.
“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.
Bingo.
“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.
Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.
But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.
She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.
“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.
He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.
Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.
Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.
Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.
“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.
Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.
Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.
She was right.
“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”
She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.
Ah yes, the dreaded feather.
When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.
On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-
She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.
Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.
“Something wrong hummingbird?”
She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:
“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”
“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.
Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.
“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”
Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.
“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”
Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.
“But you have to wear the feather.”
She immediately blanched.
A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.
They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.
Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.
She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.
And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.
Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.
She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.
“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.
Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.
Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.
She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.
It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.
Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.
“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”
She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.
“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.
She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.
“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.
It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.
“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.
She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.
“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”
She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.
He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.
She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.
The feather stayed on.
Which brought her back to the present.
Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.
She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.
He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.
Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.
Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.
For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.
Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.
It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.
On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.
And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.
Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.
“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.
“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”
The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.
“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.
“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”
Y/N was quiet for a moment.
“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.
Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.
“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”
All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.
“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.
“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.
Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.
Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-
But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.
He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.
The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.
“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.
“Hawks I-”
“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”
She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-
Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!
But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.
She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.
“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.
“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.
She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.
Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.
Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.
“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.
Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.
They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.
The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.
After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”
It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.
He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.
Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.
He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.
What he saw was beautiful.
A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.
Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.
Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.
“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.
“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.
“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”
“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”
“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.
“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.
I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.
He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.
She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.
As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.
Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.
Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.
True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.
Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.
#yandere hawks#yandere x y/n#bnha yandere#mha x reader#bnha#hawks x reader#hawks smut#hawks x y/n#bnha hawks#mha hawks#kidnapping#tw dubcon#mha#yandere#yandere hawks x reader
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The Obey Me Brothers Reaction to MC Breaking Down Over Schoolwork
(Initial ask contains an ableist slur and so cannot be posted. Please, in future, refrain from using slurs in any asks sent in!! It has since been added to my rules and I will straight up delete asks with slurs in them. Thank you <3)
AN: Apologies for taking so long to get to this one, its been in my inbox for a while. I’m sorry you were feeling that way, its really difficult getting adjusted to everything again, I work in a school and a lot of the students and teachers alike are definitely really struggling. Best wishes <3
I think I’m usually okay at not letting slip that Levi is my favourite boy, but you can tell here ;u; Sorry
Lucifer
He realises all too late that things are probably tough. Initially Lucifer is distant, and whilst he notices how tired you look sometimes at RAD, he decides to ignore it - you were probably distressed because you had been pulled into the Devildom out of nowhere, you’d just have to adapt because nothing else could be done. In his mind it was pointless worrying about it.
However, as he begins to pay more and more attention to you, he realises its more than that. You frown in class, your grades jump around and you don’t leave your room regularly, probably too busy focusing on studying. The few times you’ve accepted his offer of help, you seem to be on edge.
He decides one night to check in on you, and he hears a harsh thud from a few paces down the hall. He throws the door open without knocking, convincing himself that he was just worried you might be hurt because they needed you for the exchange programme and it would be a pain replacing you now, months into the whole endeavour.
You whirl around, arm still raised, your grip tight on your textbook. He looks about and sees other books scattered about, the room a mess.
Lucifer makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat, raising a hand to press against his temples before he freezes, finally taking in the look on your face. Your eyes are wide, having been essentially caught by the one person you really, really wouldn’t want to see you right now. You lower your arm slowly as he approaches, taking your face in his hands before you can duck away from him.
His tone and expression are impossible to place as he silently examines you, gloved hands wiping across your cheeks to get rid of any traces of your tears. You don’t have the time to process any of it before he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms carefully around your shoulders.
Lucifer is silent, almost eerily so, and he holds you there without moving until you either push him away or until you stop sniffling and drop the book. Even when he does speak again, he’s quiet, deep in thought as he looks around the room and tells you simply to head over to his - he’ll bring you something to eat shortly, get some rest in the meantime. You mumble something about a test, and he waves a hand. He’ll bring the textbook, its fine, go rest.
It takes him a half hour to get to his room, carrying a tray with some tea and snacks. Your textbook is tucked under one arm, and he gently invites you to eat before he starts talking things out. He asks if classes are too difficult, asks if there’s anything in particular you’re struggling with. He makes a lot of offers - Luci is a busy guy, but he can free up a time slot if you want to study with him, or he can get you a tutor, or you can simply text him your concerns and he’ll respond as soon as he’s available. His advice is simple and realistic.
Once you’re done eating and drinking, he opens the textbook and goes over the things that are most likely to be on the test. He gives tips, explains the things that confuse you in a clear and concise manner. He’s a good teacher, and he’s a lot more patient than you’ve seen him before.
Overall, Lucifer is a quiet comfort, but a determined one. He works to make things easier for you in the background, marking out important parts of the textbook so you know what to focus on, and offering a hand whenever you need it. Also, when you get back to your room later, your books are neatly organised on your desk.
[Other brothers under the read more]
Mammon
Mammon randomly pops into your room quite often, making excuses about how he’s absolutely entitled to because he’s in charge of taking care of you. On this particular evening, you have absolutely no warning as per usual and he doesn’t bother knocking, because this boy only has good manners when it benefits him.
He freezes instantly, and he’s over to you in a second before you can throw whatever’s in your hand. His grip is careful but tight on your wrist and he squeezes until you let it go, tossing whatever it was onto your bed without looking and wrapping you up in his arms. You might feel trapped for a second, but he has this fear that you’re Going To Get Hurt and so he just holds onto you until you settle and start sobbing against his chest. (Mammon is panicking too much to think about it, and he’ll definitely apologise after and try not to do it again if he scared you.)
He pulls you over to the bed and sits you down, a hand smoothing through your hair. His grip remains on you at all times, and you can feel his hands shaking when he asks what’s wrong, MC? Did something happen?
Mammon listens carefully, swallowing and smoothing a hand over your hair when you tell him its because the work here is just too damn hard and you can’t do it, you can’t, you can’t remember all the dates for the history or recall the right Latin to say for this one course and its not like it matters anyway because you’re human, why would you need this?
He mumbles back “I know, I know,” and runs his hands down your arms, back, along your hair. Wherever he can to comfort you, wherever makes your breathing slow back to a normal pace and takes away the hiccups left from sobbing. He doesn’t force you to look at him, almost doesn’t want you to as he bites back sniffles and sobs and wipes his face against his sleeve because crying right now won’t fix anything for you.
When you’re both calmer again, he starts rambling about something or other to take your mind off it. Mammon isn’t one to offer any immediate solutions, and rather tries to distract you with stories until you fall asleep and he can lay you down and march straight to Lucifer and demand he talk to Diavolo about this, as fearless as if he were defending Belphie or Levi for accidentally breaking something.
You’re assigned a tutor, and have tutoring sessions with each of the brothers for things they’re good at, with Lucifer and Satan covering any areas the others don’t particularly excel in. Mammon himself helps you with maths, and although he isn’t always the best at explaining it, his presence along is comforting and helps makes working through a little easier, and he’s good for taking your mind away from any stress so that you can focus without worry holding you back.
Leviathan
He had just wanted to get something back that he loaned you, a book or DVD. He can’t remember what it was the second he hears a crash and throws open your door, and finds you in a ball on the floor, the room a mess around you. You don’t even look up as the door opens, and the two of you stay in place for a few moments.
Levi doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know where to start, but he can do one thing. Quietly and carefully, he tiptoes around your room and starts putting things back where they belong. He tidies your desk, faintly organises whatever notes he finds by subject and piles them up together. He doesn’t touch you, because he’s worried you wouldn’t want him to right now, that he might scare you, and so he just tidies until the room looks a little more normal again.
When you finally look up, he’s sitting a few feet in front of you, headphones on as he stares at his D.D.D., either playing a game or watching a video or scrolling through Wikis as he waits patiently for you to start the conversation or ask for whatever comforts you need. You move over to sit beside him, and he blushes but takes off his headphones and holds an arm out so you can rest against his shoulder.
He lets you watch whatever is on his phone for a beat before asking in a hushed voice if you need anything, if something was wrong, or if someone (maybe him?) upset you. When you tell him it’s about schoolwork, he sighs and pulls you closer without thinking about it. He hands you his D.D.D. and puts his headphones on you, tells you to stay there for a bit and keep watching until he gets back.
Levi returns a few minutes later with Satan in tow, each of them carrying a bag with their own textbooks in them. Levi kneels down to take back his D.D.D. and headphones and to help you up, and tells you you’re all going to start studying together in the library. If you’d be okay with it, he means... he could use the help too, and maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you were there. Not for any reason in particular!
Study sessions are added to your schedule after that. Even on days where Satan is off doing something else, Levi will tutor you on whatever he finds easiest - usually history, and oftentimes its history involving the navy. His shyness melts away into confidence as he talks about all the things he’s done, about how he was appointed head thousands of years ago and he thinks he’s yet to let Diavolo down.
After study sessions you go and get a drink together, something like bubble tea or smoothies or whatever, and then play games together to relax and let the info sink in instead of obsessing over it. If you ever start to get stressed out again, Levi gently puts his headphones on you and the two of you wait it out together, and he smiles at you every time you take the headphones off and take a deep breath, ready to keep working. He’s proud.
Satan
Satan is observant enough to notice ahead of time that something is about to happen. You seem horribly stressed and unfocused in your classes one day in particular, and he decides to stop by your room the second he gets home to find out what was wrong.
He knocks and waits for a while, but you don’t answer, and he was sure he heard noise before but now your room is deathly silent. He carefully creaks the door open a bit to call in and see if you’re there, and hears paper crumpling against the door. Deciding to investigate, he opens it a little more and slides in through the gap.
The room is a mess of books and paper and pillows, and you’re at your desk, hands clamped hard over your ears. You’re making some kind of whimpering noise every now and then, and Satan starts to piece things together as he gathers up books in one arm and smooths out paper. He taps you on the back before moving back a pace or two, just in case.
You freeze before turning around to look at him, seeming almost guilty, and he doesn’t really get why you’d feel that way but he holds up your books and clears his throat. “Do you want some help?”
Satan is more practical than emotional and, whilst he isn’t sure what kind of comfort he can offer you right now, he knows he can help with the work, help make it easier. He pulls a chair over beside you, motioning for you to scoot over, and leans against you as he opens the first book and asks where you were struggling. He keeps a constant connection between the two of you, either has his leg against yours or his entire side against you so that you know he’s there, so that you’re permanently aware of his presence.
He doesn’t look at you too often, not when you can see him do it. Even then, there’s no judgement in his gaze, just his brows furrowing slightly out of concern until your breathing in alright and you start to smile in little bursts again. He smiles then as well, scribbling down some notes for you.
After that, Satan regularly pulls you aside after class and asks if you want to come out with him to a cafe or to the library, or he’ll call you to his room in the house and ask if you’ll let him teach you this set of notes so that he can remember it better. He’s subtle, never really brings up what happened and never asks you about it because he’s already got it all figured out in his mind. Instead, he just works on moving on from it and making sure it doesn’t happen again, and if it does, he’ll be ready to be there for you again.
Asmodeus
Asmo had decided to visit your room because you weren’t responding to his messages asking if you wanted to go out shopping with him. Majolish had new season wear and he absolutely needed to go get first pickings at it, and he wanted you there by his side.
He knocks but opens your door immediately after anyway, not giving you time to do much more than turn to face the door, bringing the pillow you were about to throw up over your face instead so he can’t read too much of your expression. He sees the tears, anyway, and without thinking walks over to you and holds your face in his hands.
His voice is laced with concern as he asks what’s wrong, and he immediately looks like he’s going to cry as well, but he just did his makeup and he’s not going to risk ruining it right now. Instead he moves over to the bed and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tight against his chest. He keeps asking, every few moments, if something was wrong and if there’s anything he can do, and his eyes dart around the room to try to piece it all together. Your books were still out on your desk, pillows a mess around the room, and you... You were curled up against him, shaking and choking down sobs.
Asmo pouts and holds you in silence until you calm down and start talking to him, start telling him what was wrong, what subject you’d been struggling with over the past hour and you were still stuck on the same damn page and not making any progress and the test was only a few days away and everyone was expecting so much from you, you who never even asked to be here. Obviously you weren’t good enough for this, obviously they should’ve chosen someone better-
Asmo cuts you off there, pushes against your shoulders until he can see your expression and cup your face in his hands. He’s not having you put yourself down because you’re struggling with work that the centuries-old demons also had a hard time with, not on his watch, and he tells you just as much. When he’s done half-scolding you, his expression softens and he offers whatever help he can. He’s sure he can rope Satan or Lucifer into helping out, and if not he can charm the examiners into giving you a better score... he keeps going until some of his silly advice gets you to snort out a little laugh, and then he relaxes.
He lays back and pulls you down with him, sighing as he instructs you to take a nap, and then after you two can go out shopping and you’ll figure everything out as you strip Majolish bare of its new wonderful outfits. And Asmo keeps to his word. As you’re trying things on he talks through the stall walls, proposing different ideas to you whilst simultaneously boosting your confidence as he compliments you and finds the perfect outfits for you.
Asmo makes it clear that if ever you should need a distraction, just give him a call - there’s always something better to do than reading over textbooks, and he’ll throw in study sessions so long as you’re there to spend time with him. Anything to make you feel better.
Beelzebub
Beel was in the kitchen, clearing out the fridge as usual when he heard a muffled thud against the wall. He pauses, turning to look in that direction, and realises that its the wall attached to your room.
He’s outside your door in no time, and taps nervously against it with his fingertips before opening the door slightly and calling in to ask if you were okay, and could he come in please? He hesitates when you don’t respond, but decides to head in anyway, because you might be hurt and any embarrassments he’s sure the two of you could live with, but with an injury there was no guarantee, not for a human.
There are books everywhere, the room as messy as he’s ever seen it, and you’re... nowhere to be seen. Not until he hears a sniffle and rounds the corner into the dining room section, and finds you curled up in a ball against the wall, face against your knees. He’s quick to back away, worried that he’ll upset you more, but then Beel kneels down a few paces in front of you and leans forward to tap your arm.
You flinch and look up immediately, pulling your knees closer to your chest until you realise its him, and then you just look guilty. Beel’s chest hurts, he feels horrible - what happened to make you feel like this? Could he help, or should he go get someone else? He asks just as much, voice somewhat broken over the questions as he hesitates. He doesn’t get this anxious often, but right now you remind him of Belphie a few thousand years ago, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.
He pushes the thought away and slides closer, sitting against the wall beside you. His presence might not help, and he waits for you to tell him to leave, but after a while you press against his side and he opens his arms to you and holds you as tight as he can until you feel a little bit okay again. And then he asks, again, what’s wrong, and he waits for you to tell him, shaking but as patient as can be. You open up to him slowly, and he listens.
Beel doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t think he’d be a good tutor for you, doesn’t know how to relieve the stress really. But, he promises his arms are always there if you want a warm hug, and... he is sure that there is some resolution to be found, but for now you should just do your best and that’s all anyone could expect from you, and if anyone doesn’t like that then... he’ll be your bodyguard, ready to defend you at any moment. He was good at that, sometimes.
Beel smiles at you and gives you the warmest smile he can manage before tucking your head back against his shoulder or chest. He tells you to rest for a little while, and then you can try working again later. Whilst you’re asleep, he pulls out his D.D.D. and messages Belphie asking for advice, and then Lucifer. By the time you wake up, he’s got a few tips from the brothers and a tutoring timetable is being organised by Lucifer for the two of you, so that you wouldn’t be alone.
Belphegor
Belphie doesn’t know why he was on his way to your room, and he stops thinking about it the second he throws the door open and sees you crying. He’s too tired to put the pieces together as he looks around, too tired to really take in the room, but he’s on high alert when he runs over and wraps you in his arms, looking around properly to see if anyone was there, if anyone had hurt you.
You can hear him growling in the back of his throat until he slowly relaxes, shoulders lowering as he takes in how messy your room is. It must’ve been you, he decides, holding you closer to him. A demon would’ve left this place in a horrible state. But nothing was torn, just scattered around.
He’s more awake when he pulls you over to the bed and immediately lays down with you on his chest. He doesn’t get what’s wrong yet, but he’ll figure it out. He wills his powers, his sin’s influence, over you until you’re drowsy and fall asleep, still sniffling occasionally, and then he starts to work things out.
By the time you wake up, Belphie apologises for how disorientated you might feel. He probably should’ve talked to you first before making you fall asleep. He smiles sheepishly at you, but the concern in his eyes is only thinly veiled, and you can see through to it.
“So, school, huh?” he asks, lopsided smile almost teasing. He wants to make you smile, or laugh if he’s lucky. Instead you make a frustrated noise and press your face into his chest again, and he pats your head to comfort you. You hear him swallow before he pushes against your shoulders to get you to look at him again.
He’s not hiding so much when he asks what’s wrong, and he listens as you stumble through an explanation before sighing and asking if you want to take another nap. He grins when you glare at him, before adjusting you both so you’re sitting up again. “Let’s get to work, then. What subject is first?”
Belphie isn’t the best at a lot of the work, and he’s missed a lot of classes, but he’s a decent help and he keeps your stress down by cracking jokes and patting your head when you do well. He’s a comforting presence, and if you get overwhelmed again he leans his elbows against the desk, head in hands, and suggests you take another nap with him because he could really use one right now. He laughs when you swat at him and tell him to focus, and then looks at you and tells you that you can come to him if you need help, anytime. Don’t wake him up if he’s deep asleep, though - get Mammon or someone stupid to do that, he jokes, just in case he lashes out.
In future, Belphie will tap on your door when he knows you’re studying and, although he often falls asleep at your desk or just immediately heads over to your bed to nap, he gives off a comforting aura that makes the work a bit bearable for longer.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#fluff#breakdown mention#ask to tag#food mention#no beta reading as usual#time to queue#school
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All I Need Is You
not my gif
PLEASE READ WARNINGS AND AUTHORS NOTE
THIS PIECE CONTAINS POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT FOR READERS
word count: approx. 6800
warnings: TW: talk of miscarriage there is talk of blood if is an uncomfortable topic for you please please do not read. it is not graphic and not in extreme detail but it is there, angst, language, talk of sex and unprotected sex (no smut but it gets a lil spicy), childbirth and breastfeeding, fluffly fluff throughout
summary: tom wants kids, y/n doesn’t, but that’s okay. but after the birth of their godson and after meeting y/n’s best friend’s new baby, something changed.
a/n: this story does contain mild descriptions of blood and miscarriage, but is not the main plot to the story. i have never gone through one personally, but i did research and used some prior knowledge while writing this. please know that i mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who has had a miscarriage or been affected in any way. if this story offends anyone in anyway, please let me know and i will take it down. this is all a work of fiction. this does contain possible triggering content and i will be putting a warning during the part and after. i will be linking some resources available for anyone who has had a miscarriage or is being affected by one in anyway. you are not alone.
The topic of kids and when you were going to have them was not unfamiliar to you and Tom. You had been together since you were both 18 and now engaged at 23. You and Tom have been giving people the same answers whenever they asked when you were having kids for years. “We’re not ready to have kids yet” or “It’s not a priority for us at the moment”
You knew Tom had had an itch of baby fever for a while and he had expressed his desire to become a father in the future, but only when you’re ready to become a mother, but you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be.
About 6 months after your engagement, his parents had managed to get everyone under the same roof at the same time for dinner and had bombarded you with comments and questions about when they were to expect a grandbaby. They had been hearing your reasons for not having had kids yet for years and weren’t accepting those answers anymore. Tom told them that you were both focusing on planning the wedding and would visit the topic after if the timing was right.
The timing would never be right, Tom felt. He had asked you a few times about the possibility of having a baby in the future and he only ever managed to get short answers out of you and then the topic was dismissed. Harry and Sam asked him about it privately and Tom expressed his concerns to them about your seeming lack of interest in even having a conversation about it. They encouraged him to sit you down and talk it out like adults. With the wedding planning starting to pick up, he knew this conversation had to happen to make sure you were both on the same page.
~~~
After his conversation with his brothers, Tom had finally worked up the courage to approach you about the baby talk and was going to put his foot down and not let you dismiss it.
“Darling, can we talk about something?” Tom asked one night as you were pulling back the sheets to get into bed. You had crawled onto your side of the bed and set your phone on the nightstand to give him your undivided attention.
“Yeah, baby, of course. What’s on your mind?” You said softly, leaning back against the headboard. Tom sat across from you on the foot of the bed with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before speaking.
“We have talked briefly about this a few times before, but we’ve never sat down and talked about it, and I think it's past time we did. Do you want kids?” He asked bluntly and looked you in the eyes. He saw your demeanor change just slightly when your eyes widened a bit. You looked down at your hands and wrung them nervously trying to find your words.
“I know I keep avoiding the topic, and I’m sorry. But if I’m being honest, I don’t think so. I’ve never been able to see myself as a mother and having a big family and all that. I thought that maybe when we got engaged and bought this house that I would change my mind and feel different, but I don’t.” You whispered the last part and kept your eyes on your hands.
“I’m so so sorry, Tom. I know that you want a family and kids but I don’t know if I can do it. Everything about pregnancy and becoming a mother scares the ever-loving shit out of me and I send myself into a panic attack at the thought. That’s why I’m so dismissive about it. I’m sorry. If you want to leave, I understand.” You let the tears fall down your face, trying to keep your voice even.
You felt the bed shift a little and you shut your eyes to keep the tears back, assuming Tom was getting up to leave. You flinched when you felt his hand on your face and his lips on the top of your head. You felt him press his body against your side and you leaned against him and let a few tears fall.
“Y/N, darling, listen to me. It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad or upset with you at all, and I’m not going to leave you. You don’t have to change your mind or feel differently about kids if that’s how you feel. I didn’t propose to you just so we could have babies, I’m marrying you to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm okay with it just being us. I just want to spend every day of my life loving you, that’s enough for me. I don’t need anything or anyone else to make me happy. All I need is you.” Tom said to you. He rubbed your back soothingly trying to calm the quiet sobs that were escaping your mouth.
“I don’t want you to hate me in 50 years and look back at all the things I couldn’t give you, or regret not marrying someone who would’ve given you kids.” You whispered into his chest.
“I’m never going to regret marrying you, I promise you that. In 50 years we’ll look back at the most amazing life we had together and cherish all the memories we made, not look back and think of what could’ve been.” He cupped your cheeks in his hand and wiped the thick tears falling down your face.
He was able to get you to calm down after a few minutes and crawled under the sheets with you. He laid down on his back and pulled you close to him with your head on his chest and one arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other rubbing your arm.
“I love you so much, Tommy. I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve you.” You mumbled against the skin of his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head again and let his cheek rest against it as he whispered ‘I love you so much more’ and pulled you closer.
~~~
Tom managed to get everyone to cool it with the baby talk. You didn’t know what he said to his parents to get them to chill out a bit, but whatever he said worked. With the weight lifted off of both your shoulders, the wedding was the only thing on your mind.
It couldn’t have gone more perfectly. The day you and Tom had been planning for almost a year and the day you had been waiting for, honestly, since the day you met him. He looked incredible in his crisp black tux with his brothers and best friend standing right next to him.
The ceremony had everyone, including you and Tom, in tears. From the words the officiant spoke to the vows that were exchanged and then the moment you were pronounced man and wife, there was not one dry eye. After all the emotions you felt after the ceremony, you were beyond excited to celebrate with friends and family at the reception.
You sat at the table reserved for you and Tom and all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen just watching the joy bubble out of everyone in front of you. Tom was standing on the edge of the dance floor with a beer in his hand talking to a few of the people he had worked with over the years and that he hadn’t had a chance to catch up with. You were nursing a glass of champagne while you talked to one of your bridesmaids about the honeymoon you were leaving for in a few days.
One of Tom’s cousins had approached you and sat in a chair next to you to share her excitement with you over the whole day. Her husband had approached her with their 7-month-old son, Lucas, saying that he was getting a bit fussy. She gladly took her son and rested him in her lap, letting him play with the jewelry on her wrists and fingers.
Lucas had started to get a bit antsy again and Tom’s cousin had started to get up in search of her husband to try and get a bottle for the little boy. You had offered to hold him while she looked for him and try to keep him happy and occupied in the meantime. She graciously passed him over to you and you assured her that it was no problem.
He was a little distressed at the sight of his mother walking away, so you stood up and held him close to you as you walked around and talked to him a bit. He distracted himself with the necklace resting on your neck and wrapped his tiny fingers around it and stuck it in his mouth. You laughed to yourself at the boy and kept whispering things to him. One of your friends had approached you and pointed out how content Lucas seemed in your arms. She stood there with you making noises and faces at the boy to make him laugh and he responded to it with a gummy smile and buried his face in your chest.
Tom had been wrapped up in a conversation with his friends and hadn’t noticed you standing with the baby in your arms. Nikki walked up behind him and rested her hand on Tom’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. Tom quickly excused himself from his friends and let his mom pull him away. She turned him so he was facing you and got close and pointed to you standing with his cousin, with the laughing baby in your arms.
“She’s really good with him. I don’t think that little boy has ever been that happy in the arms of anyone besides his mother. Look at the smiles on both of their faces.” Nikki said fondly, watching you interact with the baby. Tom mumbled a quiet ‘Yeah, she is’ and kept his eyes glued on you. Your smile and laugh were infectious and he found himself mirroring the joy you had plastered on your face.
“I didn’t want kids when your dad and I first met. It wasn’t until right before we got married that I had told him that I wanted to have a family with him. Let her bring it up to you and if she decides it's something she wants, she’ll let you know.” She looked over at Tom to see him looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.
Tom quickly set his beer down and made his way over to you. He greeted his cousin and hugged her before taking his spot next to you. His hand went to your lower back while he gave the other to Lucas. Tom wiggled his fingers which elicited a laugh from the baby, making you smile and laugh. He stood there for a few minutes chatting with his cousin and her husband about the baby and how he was taken with you.
Lucas ended up falling asleep in your arms with his head resting in the crook of your neck and his fingers wrapped around your necklace. You were sad to let go of Lucas but admired the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile when you passed him over to his father. You bid your goodbyes to the baby and his parents and grabbed Tom’s hand to pull him into a kiss.
~~~
After a year or so of being married, Tom had started to notice something different about you. He had picked up on the way you walked a little slower past the baby section whenever you went to the store together and always pointed out what you thought was exceptionally adorable. He noticed the way you looked longingly at the toddlers running around the park when you would take Tessa on walks together. When your best friend from university had brought her newborn daughter around to your place was when everything had finally started to click, for both of you.
The words Nikki had said to him at the wedding echoed in his mind. He needed to let you come to him about it. The last thing he wanted was to pressure you into talking about something you weren’t ready for.
“I’m so happy for Megan. She’s been dreaming about having a daughter, I swear since I met her. She was always talking about how badly she wanted to be a mom and couldn’t wait to have kids.” You said to Tom once you had both crawled into bed. He rested against the headboard with his laptop resting on his thighs. He looked over at you when you pulled back the comforter and got into bed next to him.
“She seems happy. Even when she was talking about not having gotten a wink of sleep in the past 3 weeks, she said it with a smile and love.” Tom chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to what he was working on. You hummed in agreement and grabbed the book off your nightstand. You found yourself unable to focus on the words in front of you and kept rereading the same few words over and over again.
Your mind kept going back to the afternoon you spent with Megan and her daughter and how happy you were to see your friend so happy. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been imagining you and Tom with that sort of happiness. The past year has been the best in your life. Tom had been traveling so much for work and you went with him wherever he went. Traveling the world and seeing your husband live his dream made you happy beyond belief. But you still felt like there was something more that you longed for.
“Oh, I don’t think I told you. My cousin sent me a message earlier today, she’s pregnant again! I think she said she’s about 20 weeks and having a gender reveal next week, and wants us to be there. I told her I’d talk to you about it.” Tom said while he opened up his messages and let you read the texts for yourself.
“Wow! That’s so amazing. Lucas is gonna be a great big brother. I don’t think we have anything going on, we should definitely go.” You handed Tom’s phone back to him and pulled yours out to send her a message.
A twinge of jealousy panged in your gut. Why did you feel like this? You had never felt jealous of your friends and family when they had gotten pregnant before. It was only good news whenever you found out. Did you wish it was you? Maybe this was your heart telling you that this was something you wanted. Maybe-
“Darling? You okay?” Tom’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your eyes focused on your phone in your hand. You looked over at Tom and saw the concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I got lost in thought for a second, I guess.” You brushed it off and kept typing the message.
~~~
You stared at the positive pregnancy tests with a mix of emotions. One part of you was freaking out at the thought of being pregnant. All the fears you had about pregnancy and motherhood rearing their ugly heads right at the front of your mind. It wasn’t just an ‘IF I got pregnant’ fear, it was an ‘oh my god I’m pregnant and it’s going to happen’ fear. It wasn’t just imagining what would happen anymore, it was actually happening.
The other part of you felt an indescribable amount of joy and excitement. Your mind immediately went to Tom and how over the moon he would be at the news. Imagining what a perfect father he would be to your baby had your heart bursting and your whole body buzzing. He’s the most perfect person to raise a child with.
The fears of parenthood and of becoming a mother tried to cloud your mind again, but you were too excited about telling Tom to care. A few minutes later you walked into the living room with the tests in your hand, looking for Tom. You heard him in the kitchen fixing up some lunch and singing along to the music coming out of his phone.
“Darling what do you want on your sandwich? I’ve got the things you usually take, you just want everything?” Tom said when he heard your footsteps from down the hall get closer to where he was.
“Yeah, everything is good. Um, I need to tell you something though, before we eat.” Tom’s head looked up at you, his eyes filled with worry and a bit of curiosity. He set down the knife he had in his hand and leaned against the counter, waiting for you to talk.
“Uh so. The past couple of weeks or so I’ve been feeling super off and just really not like myself. I think I mentioned to you that I was feeling weird and we chalked it off as maybe I was getting sick or my period was just gonna hit like a bitch this month.” You looked down at the stick in your hand and looked back up at Tom, his eyes not having left your face. “I- I, uh, I went to log my symptoms into my period tracking app and when I did, it said that my period was almost a week late and that even though there were a bunch of possible causes… the one that stood out was pregnancy.” You looked back up at Tom and his eyebrows were furrowed and you could see the worry lines across his forehead.
“Y/N?” He whispered as he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your hip, quietly urging you to continue. You took a deep breath and opened up your hand to show him the white and blue stick resting in your palm.
“I’m pregnant, Tommy. I got a couple of tests this morning while you were at the gym and I just took them. They’re all positive.” He carefully picked up the plastic stick like it was made of glass and looked at the little screen with the words ‘pregnant’ across it. You felt the emotion well up in your chest when he brought his hand up to his mouth and heard him choke back a breath.
“Oh my god. You’re not messing with me, right? This is for real?” He looked up at you with tears pooling in his lower lash line. All you could do was muster up a nod before the tears fell from both of your eyes.
Tom wrapped his arms around you and lifted you slightly off the ground, twirling you around the kitchen while he laughed and cried in joy. You giggled at his actions and kept your arms wrapped around his neck, the tears still falling from your eyes. He set you down after a few moments passed and cupped your face in his hands. He saw the emotions written all across your face, all he could see was happiness and excitement.
“This is a good thing, right?” he wiped a few stray tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs and tilted his head a little bit.
“Yeah, this is a really good thing. I know my feelings were different before but I don’t know, I guess something changed.” You smiled a bit thinking back on the last couple of months of feeling like this.
It had started with your friend from college introducing you to her daughter and asking you and Tom to babysit when she needed one. When Tom’s cousin had their 2nd son, they had asked you and Tom to be the godparents to baby James. You and Tom were over the moon excited to accept and to be there for the christening of your godson.
Tom couldn’t find the words to say and just pulled you in for another bone-breaking hug. You stood in the kitchen with him, your lunch long forgotten, just hugging each other. You could feel the love pour out from your bodies and to each other, everything was as perfect as it could be.
You set up an appointment with your gynecologist as soon as you could, anxious to confirm your pregnancy with them and maybe be able to see the beginning stages of your little one growing in your tummy. Tom had insisted he take a day off of work to go with you. He had declared that he was not going to let work or anything get in the way of him supporting you through this.
He had heard so many stories from people he’s worked with about them missing the birth of their children because of work and strict filming schedules. Or that their spouse has been left at home the entire pregnancy, sometimes with other children too, and they were only able to get a week off for the birth and then head back to work.
Tom swore to you before you got married that he would never prioritize work over his life with you. He had never missed spending a birthday, an anniversary, or a holiday with you. He sure as hell wasn’t about to miss witnessing the miracle of your pregnancy.
The appointment went as perfectly and smoothly as it could’ve gone. You were still in the very early stages of your first trimester, only about 7 weeks pregnant. Your doctor had said that it was possible to hear the heartbeat already and spent a little time searching for it.
After a few seconds had passed a whooshing sound had filled the room and the doctor smiled at you when your eyes shot over to Tom. He had wrapped one of your hands in both of his and kissed your knuckles, letting tears slip out at the sound of his baby’s heartbeat.
There wasn’t much to see on the sonogram. Your doctor had pointed out the grainy blob on the picture that was indeed your baby. You couldn’t stop staring at the little grey blob that was changing your life.
“So I think we should hold off on telling everyone until I’m a little farther along, you know, just in case. The nurse said miscarriages are common during the first trimester and we gotta be really careful. I’m okay with telling your mom, I think it’ll be good to have her support and be able to ask her things. But we should hold off on a big announcement until I’m at least 16 weeks.” You said in the car on your way back home after the appointment.
“Yeah of course. Dad is taking me and the boys golfing next week, so mum will probably ask you to lunch or something. You can tell her then or we can do it together another day, whatever you prefer. You’re the boss, mummy. Whatever you say, goes.” He quickly glanced over at you with a big smile on his face before putting his eyes back on the road.
Your face split into a huge grin at the name before placing your hands on your stomach. Tom rested one of his hands on top of yours and kept it there the whole way home.
~~~
*SENSITIVE CONTENT AHEAD*
No one could have warned you about the overwhelming heartache you could feel during pregnancy. You thought it would be smooth sailing into your second trimester and you’d finally be able to share with everyone the joy of a new baby coming into the world.
Your doctor had made you aware of the possibility of having a miscarriage at the beginning of your pregnancy, not to scare you, but just so you were aware. 10-15% of all pregnancies resulted in miscarriages, 80% of them happening in the first trimester due to a multitude of reasons. She said to take care of yourself and to do everything in your power to keep yourself and your baby as healthy as could be.
You had done everything by the books.
You ate a well-balanced diet, cutting out everything your doctor had advised you to avoid. You had started joining Tom at the gym more regularly and did a bit of yoga at home, just to keep yourself in shape, but never overexerting yourself. Cutting out alcohol had been a no brainer, even Tom said he wouldn’t drink if you couldn’t. You, unfortunately, had to cut down majorly on your caffeine intake, which left you irritable and cranky most mornings. But it was all for the wellbeing of your baby, which made it all oh so worth it.
Nikki found out about your pregnancy when she had asked you to lunch while the Holland boys were golfing for the day. You had shown her the sonogram and she gasped in shock at the picture in front of her. Your name was printed across the top of it, so she knew it was yours. She had been sworn to secrecy when you told her that only you, her, and Tom knew and that you were keeping it a secret until about 16 weeks.
She was the first person you called when you were sitting at home by yourself when you had started to feel a cramping sort of pain along your abdomen and stretching into your back. Your doctor had said that cramping was normal but if it was accompanied by period-like bleeding, to call immediately. You stretched out a bit on the couch to try and get the pain to pass but when it didn’t, you picked up the phone and called Nikki.
Her tone of voice stayed calm as you explained what you were feeling and where you were feeling it. She had dropped everything and said she’d be there as soon as she could be and to relax, everything was going to be okay. You had advised against her wish of calling Tom, for the time being, he was in the city for meetings and some press events all day and you didn’t want to bother him if it was nothing.
In no more than 20 minutes you were sitting next to her on the couch as you told her in more detail about the discomfort along your abdomen. She had suggested you get up and go to the bathroom just to be sure there wasn’t any bleeding. You gave her a nervous glance and she assured you it was going to be okay, she just wanted to be sure.
Standing up from the couch the pain had started to shift into your pelvis and deepen in your abdomen. You had asked for her to help you to the bathroom and to stay with you, just in case. She said ‘of course’ and led you to the nearest toilet to the living room. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you neared the bathroom, praying that this was nothing and just one of those pregnancy things.
Nikki had respectfully turned around after you unbuttoned your jeans and started to sit. You pulled your underwear down with your pants and took a deep breath before glancing down and seeing the mess on the inside of your underwear. Your heart dropped down to your gut seeing the bright red blood staining the fabric and sticking to the inside of your thighs. A quiet ‘oh no’ left your mouth as you just stared down. Nikki turned around hearing you talk and saw what was happening. She mumbled something you couldn’t hear before she opened the door and headed towards your room.
You could hear the opening and shutting of drawers in the distance and the shuffling of her feet back into the bathroom. She set a pair of fresh underwear and a pair of sweatpants on the counter next to you before opening the cabinets under the sink in search of a pad. She placed everything next to you and asked you to change so she could drive you to the hospital. You nodded slowly and she left the bathroom quietly.
~~~
The next couple of months were difficult, but having the support of Tom made it just a little bit easier. He held you when all you could do was cry and told you that it was going to be okay. He was going to be there every step of the way. He rubbed your back and held you close anytime you needed it and gave you your space when you asked for it.
He made sure to listen to you deeply when you talked about it. He assured you, along with your doctor, that it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done differently to stop this. It was just a freak thing and is unfortunately a common occurrence. He let you air out your frustrations and fears openly and told you that you weren’t alone. He shared some of the same fears that you did and helped you feel not crazy about having these big feelings.
You helped each other begin the process of healing and coming to terms with what had happened. It took time for you both to talk about it without being overwhelmed with grief and sadness, but it happened. You were able to share what had happened with close friends and family and feel okay about sharing your story. The amount of support and love you got from everyone made it that much easier to take another step forward in healing.
You learned that some of the people closest to you had gone through the same pain in the past, but had never shared it. You felt comfort in knowing that you weren’t alone and that your doctor wasn’t saying that miscarriages were common just to make you feel better. People you knew and had deep relationships with had gone through the same thing, it wasn’t just you and Tom. You weren’t alone in your suffering and pain. It was okay to feel sad about the loss of someone you hadn’t met or that wasn’t really a someone yet. It’s okay to grieve and feel the feelings you have about the loss.
Tom and Nikki had had another conversation about you approaching him about having a baby, much like they did on the night of your wedding. It had been almost a year since the miscarriage, and he wanted to know where you stood on having a baby again. He didn’t want to rush or push you at all. Nikki assured him that when you were ready, you would let him know.
You had started to do the slow walk past the baby section in the store again. After the miscarriage, you had avoided it as much as possible. You pointed out cute onesies and toys any time you saw them. The sadness in the longing looks you had at the sight of toddlers in the parks had changed to happiness and joy.
You told him you didn’t want to have sex after you miscarried, and he completely understood. There was no resentment towards you when you would stop a makeout session when it got too heated and he would get up and take care of himself in the bathroom or take a cold shower. About 6 months after, you insisted that he wear a condom and pulled out before he came, even with the condom on. Just to be safe.
Your sex life with Tom had started to spark again and was getting back to how it was before the miscarriage. You were okay if he came inside you, but still with the condom on. That's how it had been until one night you and Tom were enjoying a date night at home together, and both had a little too much wine. You were about a bottle and a half into your favorite red wine, both of you way well on your way to being wine drunk.
Date night had moved from the dining room to the couch after the 2nd bottle of wine was finished. Tom was sitting with his back against the armrest, one leg stretched out in front of him with the other planted on the floor. Your knees were digging into the cushion beneath them on either side of Tom’s leg. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to his body. His lips attacked yours with pure lust and passion. He pulled back hesitantly before attacking your neck with his mouth, nipping and biting before soothing the abused skin with his tongue.
“Tom, wait.” You breathed out, placing your hands against his chest to push him back. He looked up at you with concern and kiss swollen lips.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, his eyes scanning your face to make sure you were okay. You pulled back a little to put a little space between you and Tom. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath before talking.
“No, you didn’t. I just- hold on. I’ve uh, I’ve been thinking a lot the past few week about maybe us trying for another baby.” You managed to get out. The alcohol was making everything a bit fuzzy but gave you the ability to speak your mind.
“Yeah? You’re ready for that?” Tom’s eyes softened as he pushed some of your hair out of your face and rested one of his hands against the side of your neck
“It’s been almost a year, you know? I talked to my gyno at my appointment last week and she said that there’s no reason we can’t try again. It was a freak thing, and there was nothing we could’ve done differently to change what happened. I’m ready if you’re ready. I want to start a family with you, so bad.” Tom couldn’t find the words to respond to your declaration. All he did was smile so hard his cheeks hurt and pull you close to him again.
~~~
“Push Y/N! Just a few more big pushes and your baby will be here.” Your doctor said from the end of the hospital bed you were in. All you could feel was the pain ripping through your whole body because of the human trying to make their way into the world.
You could feel the cold towel pressed against the back of your neck and the tickle of air flowing into your nose. There was a nurse on one side of you pulling one of your legs back and Tom on the other side pulling the other. He had his other hand on top of your head pushing back the strands of hair getting stuck on the sweat of your forehead.
“You’re so close, lovey. I’m so fucking proud of you baby. You’ve got this. You’re so close.” Tom chanted into your ear while pressing small kisses to your temple. All you did was grit your teeth and push as hard as you could.
There was a sudden release of relief from your body, and you felt like the wind was knocked out of your whole body. You collapsed on the pillow behind you and managed to pry your eyes open. In front of you was a baby covered in bodily fluids and screaming their absolute heart out. Your hospital gown was slipped open as the nurses helped situate the baby onto your bare chest. The hands you had gripping the sheets below you flew to the baby’s back and you choked out a sob of relief.
“You did it Y/N, you fucking did it. Oh my god, she’s so perfect, you’re so perfect.” Tom managed to get out before breaking down into tears. He placed a hand on top of the baby’s head, not caring about the mess. You looked over at him and he pressed a kiss right on your lips and rested his forehead against yours before you both looked at the baby on your chest.
The doctor had asked Tom if he wanted to cut the cord and he stumbled over himself to do it. Some of the nurses had cleaned up the baby while she was still resting on your bare skin so you could get a better look at her.
“It’s a girl, Tommy. We have a daughter.” You looked over at Tom. He had pulled his phone out and took the first picture of his wife and daughter together.
“The most perfect girl in the world. Just like her perfect mummy.” Tom said with tears still falling down his face. Your doctor congratulated you and Tom before leaving the room after you were stitched up and okay to get back into a normal position on the bed.
A nurse had taken the baby to the other side of the room to get her cleaned up completely and take her weight and measurements. Tom stood close to make sure his little girl was okay. You watched from your bed with heavy eyes, your whole body begging you to rest after almost 24 hours of labor. After the baby was cleaned up, she had a diaper put on her and wrapped in the regular hospital baby blanket. She was carefully handed to Tom before he made his way back to your bed.
You had gotten as comfortable in the bed as you could and were so grateful for whoever had invented epidurals and pain medication. Tom sat on the edge of the bed and sat shoulder to shoulder with you with a leg resting on the bed and the other keeping him steady on the floor. All he could do was stare at the baby in his arms and think about how surreal this all was.
“Did you send that picture to your parents and the boys?” You whispered so you didn’t disturb her.
“Yeah right after I took it, I haven’t checked to see what they’ve said though. I’m sure they’re going crazy right now.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. You leaned into him and shut your eyes for a second to just take in everything that was happening. Your eyes shot open when you heard a knock on the door and Tom said ‘come in’.
“Hi, Mrs. Holland. I’m Olivia, a lactation consultant. One of the delivery nurses said that you were wanting to breastfeed and sent me in here just to help you out since this is going to be the first time you’re breastfeeding. Mind if I interrupt for just a little bit?” A woman not much older than you came in and moved closer to your bed. Olivia washed her hands before pulling a rolling chair next to your bed. Tom stood up to give you and Olivia the space to do what was necessary.
“Yep, just like that Y/N. That’s perfect. Baby girl Holland seems to be a pro at this, too!” Olivia watched as you positioned the baby at the perfect spot and started to nurse. It took a while to get used to the feeling, but once you did it was the most amazing thing. Tom couldn’t take his eyes off of the magic happening in front of him.
~~~
“She needs a name, Tom. We haven’t named her yet.” You whispered to Tom in the middle of the night after feeding the baby again. The nurses had come in a few times to check up on you but for the most part, were leaving you and Tom to your own devices.
“I like the name Emma.” He whispered back from the cot that was a few feet away from you, the baby in between you. You sat up as best as you could to get a look at the sleeping baby.
“She’d make a good Emma. What about Nicole for her middle name? Pay homage to your mom. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her through all of this.” You said quietly. You didn’t hear a response and looked over to see him with a toothy grin spread across his face.
“You would do that?” Tom sat up and looked at you.
“Of course. You know how much I love her, she’s so important to both of us. Plus I think Emma Nicole Holland has a pretty good ring to it.”
--
a few resources available
about miscarriage and more information available
grief resources
list of articles, books, and web-based resources
postpartum support
support organizations
--
#tw: miscarriage#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland x fem!reader#tom holland x wife!reader#tom holland x pregnant!reader#dad!tom holland#dad! tom holland#dad!tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fan fic#tom holland fic#tom holland angst#tom holland fluff#t holland#tom holland imagine#thomas holland#thomas stanley holland#tom and co#tom holland and co#tom holland and reader#tom holland and y/n#tom holland fic rec#tom holland x wife#y/n holland#sam holland#harry holland
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Chilumi - Christmas Eve
Description?: More about their child than the couple itself. Childe promised he’ll come home for the holidays, it was late but he wasn’t home yet.
Warnings: None?
Note: this was supposed to be a comic but it didn’t make it nor have I finished it yet, so I converted it into a fanfic instead :>..... also I’m bad at writing forgive me.
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The little girl looked up on the clock hanging on the wall of her home. Her expression that showed hints of anticipation and hope slowly faltered as her eyes shifted from the door to the clock and repeat.
It was 10:45 pm on Christmas eve, and her father wasn’t home yet. Tears slowly fell from the young girl’s eyes, sobbing in fear that she’ll spend Christmas without his father.
“Astra, princess, do you want to help out making a fruit sala—Astra?” Lumine called out, peeking from the kitchen to the living room where her daughter stood, silently sobbing. Worried, she walked over to her, crouching down when she was finally in front of the small girl.
“What’s wrong sweetie?” she gently asks.
“P-Papa…” the little girl managed to choke out between her sobs. Lumine frowns, already knowing what has been bothering her daughter, but kept silent and let her continue.
“H-He promised….didn’t he? He s-s-said that… he’ll come home on Christmas eve…t-to spend time with us r-right?”
The small girl tried wiping her tears, failing, for it continued to flow down her cheeks.
“H-He said…. He’ll make up for the time he wasn’t home f-for work…H-He promised, pinky promised even!”
Lumine pulled her daughter closer to her, arms wrapping around her small form, comforting her. Childe, being the busy man that he is, rarely ever gets home. Especially on this month where he had to leave for a ‘business trip’. The young girl was given the promise from her father that he’ll spend the holidays with her and her mother, and under no circumstances shall he break it. Yet, Christmas eve is nearing it’s end and he’s still nowhere in sight.
“Mama….where is he? He’ll come home tonight r-right?” She looks up to her mother with expectant yet sad eyes.
“The night is still young princess, I’m sure he’ll come home. Your father is a man of his word after all. Let’s wait for a bit, shall we?” Lumine smiled softly and she gently comforted her daughter. The young child smiled, a little hope settling in her little heart. She nods, agreeing.
“In the meantime, how about you take a nap on the couch while waiting for him, while I go make a fruit salad. Sound good?” Her mother offers while taking her small hands, guiding her to the couch. She sits down as she gets covered in a fur coat to keep her warm. She looks up to her mom and smiles, muttering a small “thank you”. The young girl yawns as she watched her mother walk away. Her eyes landed on the clock one last time before her consciousness fell and faded into a deep sleep.
Later that night, perhaps an hour after, the door opened slowly making out a loud creaking noise. Astra, being a light sleeper that she is, opened her eyes slowly to the sound of the door opening. She looked at the door, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked at a strange figure by the door. She couldn’t see clearly though, mainly because the only source of light in the room at the moment was the lights hanging by the tree beside her. She squinted her eyes to try and identify the unknown figure in front of her. She was sure it was a man from the build of his body, the only other thing she was able to identify was the huge bag he was carrying ,and a Christmas hat that lay on his head.
“Excuse me sir, who are you?” she sleepily asks, rubbing her tired eyes.
“Who am I you ask?” The man walked closer to her, talking in a (obviously fake) deep voice.
As he walked closer, she saw more of him. He wore a full red suit with white fluff lacing his collar and sleeves. He dropped the huge bag that he carried and placed both hands on his hips.
“Why, I am the one and only Santa Claus!! The man that delivers the greatest of toys to good boys and girls” The man declares proudly, his full form coming into view of the little girl.
Indeed, she has heard of Santa Claus, a huge guy in a red suit, white hair and beard. He brings happiness in the form of toys to all children that have been good for the year. She never heard the end of it from her friends at play group. However, the Santa Claus in front of her right now didn’t fit the description. Sure he wore a red outfit, but he wasn’t as huge as what she saw in pictures. He may have a white moustache but he had orange hair and blue eyes. He didn’t look like Santa Claus, he looked more like….
Her eyes glistened at the realization, her body shook and small tears fell. She lunged herself towards the man and hugged him tightly.
“Papa!! You’re home!! You’re here!! You’re really here!!!” She chimes, happy tears flowing down her cheeks and a wide smile plastered on her face.
Childe was confused. How could she recognize him under his ‘great’ disguise? But no matter, what’s important is that he is home with his family. He kissed her temples gently and smiled “I’m home princess, just like I promised.”
Lumine walks out from the kitchen to the living room, a small smile gracing her lips as she watched her husband and daughter, knowing that their family would be complete as they celebrate Christmas.
BONUS:
“Sweet little princess, how did you know it was Papa and not Santa Claus that entered the room?” Childe asks, carefully placing his daughter back down on the couch.
“Hm?” the little girl tilts her head and thinks for a moment “Santy Claus has long white beard and hair, but you had orange hair when you came in. Santy is also probably three times bigger than you Papa!!” she beams.
He sighs defeated, while Lumine laughs “Looks like your little Santa cosplay failed huh?” she says.
Astra paid no mind to the couple and looked at the bag behind her father. “Papa, what’s in the bag?” she asks out of curiosity.
“Oh this? Why don’t you open it yourself princess?~” He says, moving aside, letting her approach the bag. She unties the ribbon and pull it open. Inside were plenty of toys, both huge and small ones, soft and firm. She takes out a huge whale plushie and hugs it tight.
“Thank you Papa!!” She beams, smiling from ear to ear while facing her father.
“Good thing it was toys that you brought along, I was worried you were carrying a bag of corpses from your mission” Lumine said jokingly, her smile faltering when she meets eye-to-eye with Childe, who was silently smiling at her.
“Childe…” She says in a warning tone. Childe laughed a bit and approached his wife.
“’course not, I know better than to do that…..I think” Lumine looks at him with narrow eyes, he would always be suspicious in her eyes, but she loves him all the same.
Both their eyes slowly feel unto their daughter who was now enjoying herself with a mountain of toys gifted to her by Childe.
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Unfinished comic version of the finale:
#Childe#genshin impact#genshinimpact#genshin impact lumine#genshin lumine#genshin#genshin childe#genshin impact childe#genshin tartaglia#Tartaglia#Lumine#genshin impact fanfiction#chilumi#genshin impact chilumi#genshin chilumi
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Beyond Houses
Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: You had enough of the labels! Why can’t your best friend be a Hufflepuff, and why can’t you be madly in love with a certain ginger Gryffindor?
A/N: GIF’s not mine, credit goes to its owner.
When your studies at Hogwarts began, you actually quite liked the idea of the four houses. They gave a nice aesthetic and you were sure you were in the company of people whom were similar to you.
However as the years passed you began to notice a few things.
You made friends easily, one girl, Nora who was in Hufflepuff was very close to you. You and her always went to classes together and had a lot of fun.
However when other people in Slytherin noticed you hanging out with her, they behaved like she was the enemy. You couldn’t understand why.
“Slytherin are too good for Hufflepuff.” one of the boys said.
From that day on, you hated the group. They were worse than Malfoy. Thinking they were all mighty and great because of the colours they wore and house they were in.
Little do they know that in the outside word, Hogwarts houses mean nothing.
Of course, you continued being friends with Nora. You chose your friend and would do that again.
The group however didn’t like that you ignored their warnings. In just about a few days, every person in Slytherin treated you like an outsider.
But they didn’t break you.
You were proud to be a Slytherin, however you didn’t want to be like them, close-minded.
But the biggest shock to you was when you realized that it wasn’t just that group, other houses were the same. Gryffindor didn’t like to hang out with Slytherin, a girl rejected a boy because he was in Slytherin while she was in Ravenclaw.
Of course, there were people who didn’t care about that. Thankfully, those were the majority, however those other cases truly confused you.
And then, it happened to you.
Your eyes were caught by a certain red-head in the Great Hall. Both you and Fred were in year six at the time. The first spark, and it ignited a fire in you.
Nora was thrilled that you finally had a crush. She thought you might not be interested in dating, so when this happened, she already had five plans on how to get you and Fred together.
Especially since it was the Triwizard Tournament, the opportunities were endless.
The only real problem was his twin, George, who was always with him.
“My plan is bullet proof, Y/N. I bet by the end he will even ask you to the dance!” she said, clearly super excited. “All we need now is to get George out of the way. I will ask him to come with me and help me with something and in the meantime, you go over there and score! Now, which one is which?” Nora asked as she looked at you.
You looked over to the two guys who were talking on a bench.
“Fred is on the right, George is on the left.” you didn’t know how, but you could tell them apart, it was a skill you were proud of. You trusted Nora, and you were sitting on your crush for months now, so it was time to act.
Nora easily got George away. Although Fred did try and go with her, she refused. So, there he was sitting on the bench alone, waiting for his brother to come back.
It was your time to shine.
You let out a long sigh and walked out from behind the pillar, making it look like you just came around the corner. You took the steps down, however slipped on the last.
You tried to keep your balance, but you ended up falling. You were more surprised and embarrassed than hurt.
“Are you okay?” you head Fred’s voice as he grabbed your arm and helped you up.
“I’m fine, thank you. These damn stairs are so slippery.” you said looking up at him. He laughed a little and helped you to sit on a bench.
“Well, yeah. During our first year George fell too. Thankfully you weren’t hurt.”
“Yeah. Speaking of which, where is your other half?”
“Oh, he went to help Nora with something. She said something about needing someone tall.”
“I see. So, you are all alone? If you want to we could go and have something to eat?” you didn’t know where the courage came from to ask him, but you did.
However the grimace he made, told you everything you needed to know. He will make up an excuse.
“Sorry, but I rather wait for George, I said I would be here.”
“Oh, no problem. Maybe another time?” This is when you noticed people coming and he stood up very quickly.
“Another time.” he said to you before he rushed to sit two benches away from you.
You were completely rejected, and you knew why. It wasn’t you, it was your house.
“I though you would be different you know.” you said a bit louder as you looked at him once the people have passed. You didn’t want to give them a show. Fred looked at you with round eyes. “Everyone is so judgmental, I thought you would be better. You rejected my idea because I’m Slytherin right?” Fred’s mouth opened but no sound came out. “It’s okay, I know I’m the idiot here. Having a crush on a Gryffindor... I just...Ugh, forget it,” you said as you stood up and left. You rushed back to your room and stayed in bed all day.
***
The fact that you were rejected hurt.
It hurt more than you thought it would. You hoped that Fred would see more than just houses. You hoped that he would see you and not Slytherin. Unfortunately, you were wrong.
You didn’t want to leave your room the next day, but you knew better than to not attend Snape’s class.
The whole day went on normal, you ignored everyone especially Fred as you and Nora enjoyed the day.
“We should go shopping. A new store opened at Hogsmeade and I saw some amazing new scarf and thing!”
“Sounds fun.” you said as you two left. You were unaware of a certain boy’s eyes that followed you, filled with regret.
***
You had an amazing afternoon with Nora.
“The Ball is tomorrow! Can you believe it! I still can’t believe Steve asked me!” Steve was a Ravenclaw, very smart guy, one of the people who didn’t care about houses and he obviously had a crush on Nora for a long time now. Meanwhile you will go with a fellow Slytherin guy who asked you out just today.
You decided that this Yule Ball was the worst possible thing you ever participated in.
As it turned out, the guy who asked you to go with him wanted you to go with him so his ex would get jealous, not because he liked you. And in addition, you got to see everyone having fun, while you sat in the corner of the room, mopping.
Well, at least Nora was having an amazing time.
Just as you decided to go back to your room, your eyes locked with Fred’s. It was only a second before you looked away and stood up. Just as you did, Hermione rushed out of the room, sobbing. You looked back, but no one was following him.
You found her on the bottom of the stairs.
“Are you okay?” you asked, “Silly questions, sorry. Look, I don’t know who broke your heart. But, my grandma always told me not to cry over any man. They are not worth it, the only man who worth the tears is the one you will call, son.” you offered her a kind simple before heading up the stairs.
“Y/N,” you heard your name being yelled. You recognized the voice and against your better judgement, you stopped and looked at Fred.
“Hi Fred,” you said looking right into his eyes.
“I realize I behaved like a bloody moron the last time we spoke. It was just like you said. But I should know better that to judge people like that. You opened my eyes, I would like to apologize and to ask you on a date.”
You weren’t expecting him to be so upfront about this. But you sure didn’t mind that he wasn’t wasting your time.
“Umm. I don’t know if I should believe you. Is this a prank?” you asked looking around, trying to see if anyone was there but the hallway was empty besides you and Fred.
“No, no prank. I’m serious. And before you think I’m only doing this to help my guilt, yeah, partially, but I also do like you. I had a crush on you since second year.”
You squinted your eyes, trying to see if he was joking or not, but you decided to give him a chance.
“Fine. Tomorrow, meet me at the Great Hall, let’s have lunch together.”
“Perfect! Thank you so much.” he rushed and gave you a hug. He tried to pull back but you didn’t let him go. This is when you noticed just how much taller he was compared to you.
After a few minutes he started swaying the two of you, the music from the Ball could be heard faintly.
“You are beautiful in this dress.”
“You don’t look too bad either.” you said with a smile and a little blush, still swaying in his arms as you hugged his torso, listening to his heart beat.
This was the exact moment you could finally feel free, free of houses, free of labels and in love.
You just knew, finally your life can begin, with Fred Weasley.
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Aizawa gets hit with a quirk during battle and it turns him into a cat, he doesn't know what to do so he goes to his partner's house. His partner sees Catzawa sitting at her doorway and doesn't know it's him, so she basically catnaps him, thinking he's a stray, and takes care of him the rest of the week? uwu
omg this got kinda long but it was really fun to write fdlsk i hope you enjoy! >:3
You’d actually had a sort of late-night, later than you desired anyways, you were excited to just go home and get some rest.
As you approached your doorstep you notice a black fuzzy blob on your welcome mat.
“Well hello there..” You crouch down to the cat and offer a hand, “and who are we? Huh?” You scratch the back of its neck, laughing at the loud purring it replies with.
“You are adorable.” You scoop it up, “if you’ve got an owner the time to run away is now, or else you’re mine. That cool?” The cat just settles into your chest, purring contentedly. “I’m taking that as a yes.”
You set your things down but keep the cat in your arms, it doesn’t seem to mind.
“What should I name you?” You wonder aloud. “Oh I bet Shouta will have a good idea.” You sit down on the couch with the cat in your lap, taking a photo of it to send along to the aforementioned man, “he loves cats. Maybe I should wait and surprise him with you.” You hesitate to send the photo, “I guess in the meantime I’ll just call you...” You look around for some inspiration, “I guess Eraser is pretty fitting huh? You know now that I mention it you sort of even look like him.” You press your thumb between the cat's eyes, “grumpy.” Its reply is just a meow.
Aizawa isn’t too worried honestly, once he figured out what had happened and gets a handle on things he concludes this weird quirk will only be effective for a few hours to a day max. At least his quirk was still effective in cat form, though the cops were probably confused to find a bound up villian and no hero to claim them. He didn’t care much and with that in mind he just mozzies his way over to your place figuring you’ll take care of him, you always do. And he was right, you were happy to let him rest on your chest while you lounged around on the couch, watching TV late into the night, you scratched up his back with your nails and cooed at him every time he nestled closer. He knows it was a villain quirk that hit him but he’s sort of thankful, honestly, this is the life.
“Alright.” You sigh and he rises and falls with the breath in your chest, “how’s bed sound Eraser cat?” You’re mildly concerned you haven’t heard from Shouta, normally he let you know when he returned and left for patrols, even if you were asleep. You figured his phone was dead or forgotten, or that Hizashi was accompanying him tonight.
He is very content to curl up next to your chest and snooze there peacefully for the whole night. He could sleep for days if anyone asked him, you were warm and nice and sure he wasn’t particularly clingy but he couldn't deny how nice it felt to be coddled on occasion.
Your bright laughter and the way you flick water at him and shoo him away when he sneaks into the shower the next morning is also welcome.
“I thought cats hated water!” You snort flicking a towel at him, “get out mister, this isn’t for cats, I’ll give you a bath in the sink tonight if you really insist.”
Though a few days pass and he’s still a cat, and what’s worse is you’re going crazy with worry.
“I’m sorry, no.” He’s watching from his perch on your counter as you shake your head at Nemuri, Hizashi, and Nezu, “He normally calls me at least once a day if we aren’t together but I haven’t even gotten a text let alone seen his face..” You look forlorn, there’s a deep worry line between your eyebrows.
“It’s alright. Thanks for the help.” Nemuri squeezes your shoulder, “I’m sure he just got wrapped up in something a little bigger than usual.”
Hizashi nods in agreement, “we’ll let you know if we find out anything else, okay?”
“Thank you Zash. I’ll call you guys if he turns up around here.” You squeeze his friend's hand, as comforting as he was trying to be you could tell he was equally upset and worried.
“We appreciate that.” Nezu nods, “he’s a very capable hero, I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”
“Say, when did you get a cat?” Nemuri takes notice of the feline and you jump.
“Oh you guys haven’t met him yet! I think he was a stray..” You scoop him up and bring him back to the trio, “his name is Eraser cat. Well, it was temporary, I was going to ask Shouta to name him but-” Your voice breaks a little, “well...you know.”
“He’s very cute.” Nemuri laughs a little but it doesn’t do much to mask how upset she seems as well, “don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine.” She insists and you nod, “I hope so.”
When his hero costume and goggles turn up 2 days later you're inconsolable.
Aizawa is trying everything he can think of to get you to realize what’s happened. He watches helplessly on the couch as you cry into Hizashi’s shoulder. Nemuri on your other side rubbing your back, though they each look equally heartbroken.
You hadn’t been sleeping much at night since their first visit, he was used to you staying up to the sunrise scratching his back, and playing with his ears. But at least you didn’t cry. Now you cried. Even watching you sob into Hizashi’s shirt was enough to make him let out a warbled meow and slink over to your lap.
“Oh I’m okay-” You let out a wet laugh, “what a good cat you are..wanna cheer me up?” You hug him, “you’re so cute.” Your voice breaks again, “Shouta would have just love you-” And as quickly as your tears had stopped warbly cries had begun again.
Nemuri and Hizashi don’t leave until it’s dark out. He watches the various people that come in and out the next day, Toshinori comes with some sweets and Aizawa’s class. You supposed it was nice to see them if only a bit painful at first. But after the discomfort in your chest settles they do pretty well at cheering you up, offering you all the funny, sweet, or scary stories about their teacher that they can think up. Sekijiro comes after with Ryo, the pair is happy to sit quietly with you while you cry alternating between who lets you rest on their shoulder and who rubs your back. Kugo and 13 come with some food and finally Emi with plenty of teary-eyed attempts to pull some more laughter out of you.
After it’s all over he’s curling up on your chest where you lay on the couch.
“Don’t worry.” You murmur, you noticed the cat didn’t seem to like it when you cried, “I think I’m all cried out.” Your eyes are puffy and red as your hands cover his back. “Wanna hear about Shouta?” You ask and the cat’s ears perk up. “Yeah? I could tell you some things about him.” Your voice breaks a little at his name, “he was a good guy, a little grumpy, but..” You sigh, “he was just a softie.” You close your eyes, “and he really liked cats. He would have been so excited to have you. He was really strong too-” You bite back some more tears, “whatever...whatever did this to him I..I have to say I’m a little scared to see what it’ll do next.” The cat stands up and hops away, you laugh a little, “you’re so aloof.” You watch the black furball turn the corner and disappear.
When he returns you’re about to doze off, but he jumps onto your stomach, you huff. “Excuse you. Hey!” You sit up,
“what’s in your mouth?!”
You try to pry his jaw open, “you’re gonna choke!” He spits out an eraser.
“oh?” You pick up the pink pencil topper, “did you learn your name?” You perk up, “so cute!” You scoop the cat up to your chest, kissing his face, “you’re so smart-” The cat warbles. “What?” You set it down and it paws at the eraser.
“You wanna play?” He hadn't liked playing very much before. He warbles again before hopping away and fleeing. Though he’s back in a few moments.
“Now what do you have??” You notice something else hidden in the cat's mouth, he spits it out without a fight though.
“Shouta’s keys?” You pick them up, “do you wanna play?” You ask again and jingle them in front of the cat's face. He swats at you.
“I’m sorry.” You frown, “not right now okay? I’m really exhausted.” You stand up, “let’s just go to bed?”
The cat leaps into bed with you a few minutes after you get under the covers.
“Eraser please-” You groan as he kneads your back, “I'm exhausted.” Roll over and he drops something on your chest. It was a picture, one from your bag of you and Shouta, Hizashi took it on new year’s eve two years ago.
“Huh?” You look at the cat, “why’d you bring me this?” You remember reading that cats like to bring their owners things as presents sometimes. “That’s very sweet.” You murmur, “I should get it framed or something, it’s a nice picture. He didn’t really like pictures..” You rub the cat's ears, “I didn’t mind before...” You trail off, feeling your eyes get wet, “but wish I had more of us now that he’s-” You take in a deep breath before you can start crying again. You set the photo on your nightstand. “I’m going to sleep.” You turn over, without huddling him into your chest like usual.
Aizawa doesn’t know who to thank when he wakes up, suddenly human again.
Though he is totally naked. But at least you wouldn’t be so inconsolable anymore.
Your alarm starts to blare and you turn over, your hand hits his chest.
“Shou.. turn it off..” You mutter, burying your nose in his arm. There’s a moment of reprieve like nothing had ever happened like it was all a weird dream. You did this occasionally, you’d wake up and grumble for him, ‘come closer’ ‘turn the alarm off’ or just a ‘g’monring shou’. In the days prior he’d tried to do what he could, even swatting your alarm off with his paw and curling up in your neck. Though it was never long before you’d realize that Shouta as you knew him wasn’t there and you’d dissolve into a fit.
“mhn I got it.” His hand slaps the alarm button and it silences.
Your eyes snap open and you scramble up, shrieking.
“Shouta!?” You’re patting him down, neck shoulders, and chest, checking for any injuries, or any sign that he’s not really Shouta. But it’s all there, all the scars, and birthmarks, and hair, he’s exactly how you remember.
“Where have you been?!” You place two firm hands on his chest, “and why are you naked? Not that I mind now, but have you been walking around naked for over a week? Never mind don’t answer that.” You take his face in your hands, “Oh Shouta, I’ve been so worried.” You shake your head, “we all have. When your costume turned up but you...” Your voice gets quiet, “we thought...well..God. Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry to worry you-” He sits up, “i’m okay, seriously, not even a scratch. It’s all sort of complicated but I think what happened was-”
“Wait!” You stop him, “I have a surprise for you!”
“Well, the thing is-”
“Just stay here okay? Put some pants on!”
You scramble out of bed, looking hopelessly for Eraser Cat, though the feline is nowhere to be found. You’re standing by the couch when the sight of the eraser and Shouta’s keys discarded there put the dots together for you.
“It was you?!” You shriek running back to your bedroom.
“I was trying to tell you!” He insists, “like when I kept changing the channel to the news during broadcasts about me, or all of the random stuff that I always brought you!”
He doesn’t mind the way your arms fly around his neck, he just pats your back.
“So you’ve been okay this whole time?!”
“Yeah, I was pretty well taken care of actually.”
“I was wondering why he’d only eat leftovers and not the cat food..” You murmur and Shouta laughs.
“Sorry, but it smelled really gross.” He lets you clamber into his lap.
“Shouta I’m so happy to see you.” You hold his face in your hands, “you have no idea how worried I was-”
“I watched the whole thing.” He laughs a little, holding your wrists, “ but it’s alright now. I’m here. I’m fine. We both are.”
The kiss is welcome, warm, and familiar. Being a cat for a day would have been fun, but a whole week was sort of pushing it, he’d missed these sorts of sensations, your hands on his chest, arms around his neck, lips against his.
“You watched me change like every day!” You hit his stomach and he huffs at the blow,
“What happened to missing me? It’s your fault for leaving the door open!” He complains and you jump,
“I live alone!!! And you tried to get in the shower with me?! You perv!”
“You act like I’ve never seen you naked before!” He fends off your swatting hands.
“It’s the principle of the thing!”
“We see each other naked all the time! I’m naked right now.” He catches your hands and you stop, flush creeping up your neck.
“Oh. Yes..you are...” You settle down a little as he continues,
“and I really missed you...”
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I love the fic you showed on Luke, Han, Chewie being kidnapped by the trio- I would love to see more! Is there a chance we might see that fic or sections of it? I hope you are having a great day!
You may see more sections of it! It’s like 30k because I have zero self control sometimes, so idk if I will post the whole thing, but snippets I can do!
I wrote a fuckin’ hilarious bit where Han tells Paz that Luke’s got a crush on Din. Paz thinks about Din’s sexuality for .05 seconds and immediately has an anxiety attack that Din feels like he’s got to hide his queerness.
He brings it up with Din, who promptly astral projects in embarrassment.
--------------
This was a reconnaissance mission now. One which Luke was again having fun on. With Djarin refusing to speak to his comrade, Luke wriggled right into the place he’d left behind and started agitating again. He goaded Djarin and Fett that he could shave hours off the current course time. Han and Chewie hung back and strategically did not back up a damn thing he said.
Paz, uncomfortable to be on any ship that was not his own, clutched at his fingers and watched Luke chasing Djarin like an underfoot puppy in concern.
“What does he want from Din?” he asked Han and Chewie quietly.
Han blinked slowly.
“He’s got a crush,” he said.
Paz’s helmet managed to blanch.
“You’re kidding,” he said.
“Yeah, your boy’s ticking every one of Luke’s boxes, I’m afraid,” Han said while Chewie snickered. “He’s already decided on a destination wedding.”
Paz rubbed a few knuckles under the edge of his helmet and looked away.
“I dunno if the Armorer’s gonna be cool with that,” he said.
Han snorted.
“Armor isn’t strong enough for him, he’s got mind powers,” he said.
Paz’s helmet turned slightly back towards him.
“The Armorer is Din’s parent,” he said. “She leads the teachings at our covert.”
AHA. Orthodox. Han had it now. Djarin was a preacher’s son.
“I don’t know what that means,” Paz said.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” Han told him sympathetically. “It’s okay, though. People are more tolerant than you think.”
“I still don’t know what that means,” Paz repeated.
“You will,” Han soothed, “You will.”
--
It was an hour before Paz blurted out, “Wait you mean he’s gay?” and Han almost cried, he was laughing so hard.
--
This was supposed to be a hostage situation, but Paz was making this trip a pleasure cruise. He’d gotten about fourteen thousand times more awkward around both Luke and Djarin anytime they passed by. Luke had caught onto this with interest.
Han did nothing to stop him. He and Chewie finally had entertainment after hours and hours of torture.
Paz inched away.
“I’m happy for you,” he told Luke. “It’s fine.”
Luke cocked his head at him and got closer.
“No, man. Not me, sorry,” Paz said. “You got—you got Din. He’s—well, honestly the last I saw him he was like, fifteen and sort of scrawny, but you know he’s probably grown a couple muscles by now.”
Luke lit up.
“I know, he picked me up,” he said.
Paz vibrated.
“Mm-hm,” he said.
“Do you think he likes me?” Luke asked him.
Paz vibrated so hard his armor nearly started knocking against itself.
“He’s really into ancient Tusken shit,” he said. “Ask him about ancient Tusken shit.”
Luke’s eyes couldn’t get any wider or rounder. Any more of this and his pupils would start dilating, too.
“Copy that,” he said, then vanished.
Chewie whimpered and wiped tears from his eyes. Han leaned into his side and grinned so wide his face hurt.
--
Luke took to flattening himself against the cockpit door and serenading Djarin in the other side with pleas for information about Ancient Tusken culture. Djarin was understandable baffled. He smelled a rat and refused to be forthcoming with any new knowledge.
That made Luke caterwaul louder until Fett had enough of him and locked Djarin out of the cockpit too, with instructions to ‘silence the Jedi before I do permanently.’
Djarin was now stuck out here with the rest of them. He crouched in front of Luke and they had a staring contest for a good two minutes before Djarin got up and sighed.
“You have so much energy,” he said. “No wonder Grogu likes you.”
Luke rocketed up to stand next to him proudly.
“I don’t sleep most nights,” he said.
Djarin studied him.
“I see that,” he said.
“Han and Leia say that I’m a ‘hostile’ bedpartner when I do,” Luke said with finger quotes for Djarin’s benefit.
Djarin, Han swore, was trying to think of a polite way to say, ‘Sir, I think you’re at breaking point.’ But instead he said, ‘do you like tea?’ to which Luke said, ‘absolutely not.’ Djarin told him that he had a great tea for him to try and was thereafter followed into the Falcon’s kitchenette around the corner.
Paz, in the meantime, was absolutely shitting himself. No longer able to avoid this conversation with Djarin.
“I think it’s cute,” Han goaded with Chewie nudging his ribs the whole time.
“The Armorer will not approve,” Paz insisted.
--
Djarin had done the impossible: he’d put Luke to sleep. He delicately removed the mug of (possible sleep medication) tea from Luke’s unconscious deathgrip and asked Han where the used dishware went. That was thoughtful. Han told him to just stick it any damn place around the sink and he or Chewie would get to it.
He did and then came back to settle in next to Paz. Paz visibly experienced a rainbow of emotions. Djarin didn’t notice a single one of them. Instead, he crossed his legs and held the orange tips of one hand in the orange tips of the other.
“I wanted to apologize, Paz,” he said. “After what you’ve sacrificed for me and the kid, I should have been more grateful.”
“D—don’t mention it,” Paz stammered. “It’s—it’s the Way.”
“It is the Way,” Djarin agreed. “I think I was afraid of how to face all of you afterwards.”
Han could hear Paz’s internal scream from here.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll bet you, uh, did. It—it wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Djarin sat up a little straighter.
“No. How did you know?” he asked.
Paz shivered.
“Just a feeling,” he said. “You know, uh. Din. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, right? You’re—you’re like my little brother. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or anyone say anything to you. Okay?”
Awwwwwwwww.
Djarin looked up into Paz’s visor.
“Are you sick?” he asked.
“What? No. I’m. I’m saying, that if you ever had something you wanted to tell me, or you know, any of us. We’re always here to listen,” Paz said. “And to support you.”
Djarin’s silver helmet tilted worriedly.
“I already did,” he said.
“GREAT,” Paz said. “Perfect. You’re doing amazing.”
Djarin pulled back, officially disturbed.
“Right,” he said slowly. “So I’m gonna—”
“Listen, kid,” Paz said, grabbing the strap between Djarin’s chest and back plates and dragging him back down to sitting. “Think about your parent.” He took Djarin’s hand from where he was actively trying to escape and held it in a firm, masculine grip. “She loves you, you know that.”
“Paz, I’m panicking,” Djarin said outloud.
“And she was so happy for you to have a foundling,” Paz carried on like plough. “So she’s gonna be happy for you, no matter what.”
Djarin could not pull his hand out of Paz’s grip, and boy was he trying. He’d started a cool descent to the floor, he was trying so hard.
“I know,” he grated out.
“But a jedi, Din?”
“He can’t help it, man,” Djarin said, still struggling almost on his back now. “You said it yourself. It’s a born-with-it thing.”
Paz stared forcefully at his knuckles.
“You’re right,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “But if that’s how it gonna be, you really should propose first.”
Djarin’s helmet somehow managed to emote ‘shock’ on the ground there.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked. “I barely knew her.”
“Her?” Paz asked, then caught himself. “Sorry, sorry. Not my business—”
“It was like, a week at most—”
“Not my business.”
“And yeah, she had a great kid and—”
“Wait, wait, hold up,” Paz said. “Who are you talking about?”
Djarin stared.
“My friend? From Sorgen?” he said. “Who are you talking about?”
Paz went very still.
“You’re fuckin’ some gal on Sorgen?” he asked.
“No?” Djarin said. “I mean. She wanted to, and I thought about it, but it was only a week, and I didn’t want her to feel like I’d used her only for—who are you talking about?”
“The jedi,” Paz said, pointing at Luke’s languid, curled up self on the table’s bench.
“Why would I be fucking the jedi?” Djarin asked. “He’s my son’s teacher, Paz.”
“Because he’s crushing on you?” Paz asked, equally upset and confused. “And you’re gay, so?”
“I’m what?”
“Gay????”
“I am??”
Han was crying. Han was sobbing.
These idiots were days of comedy. Look at them go. Look at ‘em spin.
“Din, please. You don’t have to fake it. I support you—”
“I didn’t ask for your support?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of—”
“I’m not ashamed.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m picking up some strong feelings. And I don’t want you to think that—”
“Paz, what I want more than anything for you to do right now is to stop thinking. I’m not gay.”
Paz pressed a hand against his helmet like he was in physical pain.
“But the way you always looked at Teyo,” he said.
Djarin had a tiny stroke and slammed his fist into Paz’s arm.
“DON’T MENTION—”
“What the FUCK, brat?”
“HOW DARE YOU—”
“Why’re you yellin’ at me now??”
“Why’re you bringing up some childhood shit, haven’t we done enough of that already?”
“Why’re you so mad? I’m tryin’ to be supportive. If you wanna fuck the Jedi, fuck the Jedi. I’m just sayin’ maybe don’t tell the Armorer until after you’ve done it, so she doesn’t think you’re under some kinda mind-trick or somethin’, alright?”
Han no longer needed those helmets. He had these characters down. Djarin was gaping now. In shock and offense.
“Never speak to me again,” he decided.
“Bro,” Paz said.
“NO.”
“Karkin’ hell, Din. What’s your problem?”
“Excuse me, I must drown, where are your facilities?” Djarin asked Han directly.
“Round the corner, on the left,” Han told him.
“No, no, no,” Paz said, grabbing Djarin by the cape and dragging him back. “We gotta talk about this. We gotta process.”
“I’m not processing shit with you,” Djarin said. “I am not fucking the jedi.”
“But you want to,” Paz deduced.
“I—what? Wh—do you want me to have relations with him? Did I miss something?” Djarin asked.
“I want you to feel supported,” Paz said.
“I don’t. I feel targeted,” Djarin said. “Stop targeting me.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”
“Good. Let go.”
“But if—”
“Paz, I’m going to behead myself.”
“If you do want to have sex with the jedi, later. That’s fine. Or anyone else. That’s fine, too.”
“BOBA.”
Behold. A breaking point.
--
#fic#paz vizsla#din djarin#the mandalorian#I literally just want to write Din and Paz fighting and being secretly protective of each other 24/7#idk if that's been made clear yet#do you think I'm being too subtle?#ficlet
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