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pagemasters · 21 days

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Fantasies He…

BABY’S FIRST FIC!!!

Author’s notes: So after reading so many for years I thought maybe it’s my turn to take a crack at it. There’s I think 3 parts to this, with the first one having basically no smut and mostly platonic fluff between Az and Feyre, but part 3? Can’t say the same thing for the middle Archeron sister lmao

I swear this started out to be one part but the story told me otherwise, part 2 is fully drafted I’m just revising and editing

I’m a very visual person, so enjoy the floor plan of the nursery and a rough sketch of what I think her mural would be and the star! I am a painter if it wasn’t obvious so the whole portion on starfall stars is actually based on how Bob Ross paints his northern lights, just with modifications BUT I haven’t tried it myself for this specific purpose. Also the colour of Feyre and Rhys’s stars are the colours of the first ones that hit them during Starfall btw! I love the platonic relationships between the inner circle and we don’t get enough of it

If you enjoyed it I would love u forever if you let me know!! :)

Ps. Omg dialogue is so difficult to make realistic but also in character, none of that “hey big brother” etc. shit you see in tv shows where you’re like who tf says that to their sibling ?? Ps.ps. I haven’t taken an English writing class for 5 years so if punctuation was wrong let’s pretend it wasn’t LMAO

I CANT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO AO3 LINK BUT IT’S ON THERE WITH THE SAME USERNAME LOL SORRY

Summary:

Azriel spends the day with Feyre, only to get caught in the rain on the way home. Good thing the townhouse is empty. Or is it…

CHAPTER ONE: DAYDREAMING

The rain finally decided to make its appearance as Azriel stepped out of the River house. Taking a deep breath, he let the soothing scent wash over him as he relaxed his wings.

The meeting with Rhys was short, just a weekly update on the goings around the other courts and allies, nothing that required the full inner circle to make an appearance. Something he knew after centuries of this work should be a good thing, but it doesn’t stop the pang in his chest at the missed opportunity of seeing her.

Not that he didn’t try to catch a glimpse of her. He did take a walk through the beautiful home his brother had built for his mate after seeing him, the smell of cedar and masonry long since faded from the construction days; replaced with flowers and candles and the dinner his shadows whispered Nuala and Cerridwen were working on. The scent of paint lingered though, and he discovered the reason why as he got to the residential wing. His High Lady wasn’t in her studio, but he found her nonetheless with a brush in her tattooed hand.

“I think you missed a spot.” Az said from the doorway, trying to repress his smile at her startled reaction. Even though Feyre and Rhys opted for doorways fashioned with wings in mind, he kept his drawn in tight, not wanting to risk smearing her paint as he stepped inside.

“Rhys won’t let me use the step ladder without him holding it. And me. And the bump.” Feyre twisted to look up from her spot on the floor and smiled in greeting before lowering the brush to pat her stomach in emphasis. She gave her mate’s antics an affectionate eye roll and shake of her head before releasing a heavy sigh, glancing back at her work.

“If I remember correctly,” Az teased, “you are prone to falling quite spectacularly.”

She let out an indignat squawk so loud he had to bite his lips to prevent laughing, her body spinning so fast to face him fully that paint ended up splattering from her brush to the white drop cloth.

Their flying lessons had ceased for the most part since the war, so watching her fly into a tree or eat rocks wasn’t as common an occurrence— but that’s not to say that still doesn’t happen. Knowledge he happens to be privy to not just as her flight teacher, but as the spymaster, something she’s very aware of if the narrowing of her eyes and mouth hanging open are any indication.

It’s hard not to notice the similarities between the sisters, when even with your eyes closed the cadence of their speech was also similar. But it was never so apparent between youngest and oldest Archeron as when Feyre’s eyes pinned him in place, the expression of mock outrage was so much like Nesta’s it was almost comical.

“Ruuuude,” she said, drawing the word out in a whine with pouted lips, no doubt remembering the amount of face plants he’d witnessed when she first began to fly. “I see how you treat your High Lady, Shadowsinger. Just wait, it’s not too late for me to paint a little something in your bedroom.”

“And here I thought pouting and grumbling was beneath royalty, at least you can say you’re a tree hugger.”

She gave him a gesture that was certainly beneath royalty, and he didn’t hold back his chuckle this time.

“What gave you that idea, have you even met Rhys?”

“Oh trust me, you should’ve seen him when we were kids.” He said, grabbing her hands to help her stand. “He discovered in a book that while bat wings look identical to ours, the anatomy of their wing is labeled similar to that of the hand. So for them, their talons are their thumbs. After that, he took it upon himself to hang upside down in silent protest whenever he was mad, but didn’t want his mother to wash his mouth out with soap for swearing.”

“He did not.”

“Mhmm, until his faced turned purple.”

“And where were you and Cass for all this?” Feyre said through her giggling, a wide grin of unrestrained joy plastered on her face.

“He couldn’t have done it alone, a thumbs down by yourself would look stupid.”

“Ah yes, because the three of you hanging upside down like overgrown bats isn’t ridiculous.” She cackled, “How long until he gave it up?”

“A few weeks. After Cassian passed out in the middle of camp and we all got broken capillaries on our faces. Still, a better alternative than the awful tasting soap in Illyria.”

“What, as opposed to other tasting soap?” He just shrugged, smiling.

Rhys’s mom’s reaction to warriors dragging them across the rocky ground home was as lively in his memory as she was when she berated them when her son fessed up. She was less thrilled to hear the real reason than Devlon was having passed out children strewn about the place, but she never did call them out on the lie they fed to Devlon about it being a dare when he came banging on their door. That night though when they were more lucid, she brought them on foot to one of the mountains surrounding their outpost and stood them at the opening of a cave. He still remembers the eyes he felt on them, the warning bells ringing from his shadows as she gestures her hands out and said, “If you want to act like bats, you can join them; or you can toughen up, learn how and when to pick battles and what hills are worth to dying on. Because there will be more people who will piss you off, but this is not an option when you’re leading armies. So,” her hazel eyes meeting each of theirs, “What will it be? Do you want to stay here or take the soap and fly right on home.” Needless to say they bolted home with the taste of pine tar suds coating their mouths like a film no amount of water could rid them of the taste. He could still feel the eyes of whatever was in that cave the entire way home, but thank the cauldron he could fly at that point. His heart ached at the memory of the female, the one he knew picked a low cave for him to make her point, just in case. The one his shadows caught a few times after that upside down on the couch after a rough day when she thought she was alone.

As Feyre’s amusement continued with eyes glazed over—no doubt having a silent conversation with Rhys—Az cleared his throat, his shadows pulling back as he gestured to their surroundings and asked, “So how’s the nursery coming along?”

“It’s going great,” she replied after a moment, her laughter subsiding as she surveyed the mural. “I know it’s not geographically correct, and that Starfall and the time when our courts insignia’s stars show don’t overlap, but I couldn’t not include them. I want him and any possible future child to see the night court as I did when I first fell in love with it and their dad.”

Indeed, while he knew Rhys was already in love with her, he got to watch Feyre love him back as much as he deserved in real time the longer she was here. And the way she captured the land they all loved so much here was… breathtaking.

On the wall that held the doorway he just stepped through lay the mountain with the moonstone palace atop it. The first place she saw here. They both knew where the doors to Hewn city rest below, but it was covered by the landscape. As if there were no room for nightmares in this room, even if it was a court this babe may one day rule.

“I have no idea how you made that mountain so realistic,” he said to her in awe, pointing to the painting adjacent to the wall they just looked at.

“The crib is going to go right below it when the rooms done. I want it to watch over him.” She replied almost reverently as she looked up.

The mountain was the tallest of the three she painted, and it looked just as it had on his trek up there with his brothers during the rite. Physically it was practically stone for stone, those three stars lines up overhead perfectly, but the energy differed. Instead of the cold and foreboding thing he remembered on the way up, it seemed almost… euphoric? As if the wild joy and love Rhysand, Cassian and he felt as they made their way to the top and won seeped its way onto the painting. Like the unyielding strength from that mountain and what it brought out of them would guide and protect him, just like it did for the three winged dots surrounding the monolith at the tip. How that was even possible was beyond him.

He could barely tear his gaze away, but snickered as he saw the tiny but recognizable building at the base of it to the right. “The cabin, huh?”

“Of course, gotta prep him for one day kicking all of your asses during your snowball fight.” She added, blushing. “I put few snowballs flying just for good luck.”

Though he knew the other reason the cabin was significant to Feyre and Rhys, the thought of his future nephew joining their game warmed him. But It did make trying not to focus on other non-winged and winged babies that could one day join in the snowball fight impossible. Children have always been an abstract idea, a figment he knew existed but besides Rhys’s sister, he wasn’t around. And after what happened to her… He thought for a long time he would never have one of his own, but that sentiment start to change in recent years. He could avoid it most days though, but being surrounded by the baby stuff made the hypothetical harder to ignore. The thoughts on if he’d have his own little ones propped on his hip and curled into his chest with their chubby cheeks and inquisitive eyes. If they would have his hazel or her golden brown ones, or something different if they adopted. Would their little hands or clothes or hair get caught in the scales of his armour just like hers did when he took her on her first flight to the town house from the House of Wind, when he held her for the first time. Would Elain… Az paused, stopping that train of thought before it just twisted the knife even further, seeing more things he can’t have.

His shadows began to circle him, and if Feyre noticed she politely didn’t comment on it before pointing out what she was working on when he interrupted her.

To the right of the cabin and right were she was sat Velaris, and it really did look like a city of starlight with how she painted the glowing nightscape. He could make out the four markets that were the heart of the city, with extra emphasis on where the town house sat along with the new residence they were currently in. Bisecting through it all, the Sidra River looked so realistic he could probably skip a rock across its surface. It flowed like a living thing, reflecting the lights from the buildings on its edge and even the stars above. Two of which weren’t normal stars.

Above the city proper and even the flat topped mountain that held the House of Wind was the beginnings of starfall.

“How-“Azriel could barely get out, “how is this even possible?”

“Perks of now being immortal; plenty of time to practice. And having a husband with wings who takes you to get aerial views.” She simply said gesturing to their city, as if she didn’t create magic with swipes of colours.

“The green one is mine, and the light blue one is Rhys’s. I’m planning to get everyone to add their own star to the wall.” Now looking him, she smirked. “Which means you came at a perfect time, Shadowsinger. Your turn.”

He gave her an unbelieving expression, shadows instantly vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, “if I trust Cassian with a paintbrush, you’ll be fine. He’s coming by in a few days when he gets a free moment, Nesta and her two friends are keeping him busy with training.” Nesta is keeping him busy with more than just that, it’s a wonder he even has energy to train them.

But looking at Rhysand’s mate, Azriel saw her glow in a way different from her powers. Feyre radiated joy as her hand cradled her stomach despite barely showing, not caring about paint getting on her already splattered clothes. For his brother, for the friend beside him and his nephew in her womb, he removed his jacket and let out a resounding sigh in defeat. “What do you need me to do?”

So Feyre excitedly brought him over to her pile of paint tubes on the drop cloth. She grabbed the white and as he selected the colour phthalo blue she went off to prep the clean, dry brushes and a fresh palette for him.

“So pick the area of the sky you want your star to be, I’d like to keep the inner circle’s additions mostly above Velaris, but I’ll add tiny ones fading out once everyone is done. Amren and Mor are away, Cass is busy and who knows if or when Nesta would want to contribute. That means besides Rhys and I, you have the pick of the litter.”

“What about Elain?” He asked, trying to keep his voice and face as neutral as possible when she handed him a 3 inch brush already dipped in his blue.

“I’ll drag her in here after dinner when she gets in from the garden. The colour of the sky is already dry which is the important part, so there’s no time constraint on when everyone adds theirs besides my due date.” She gave him a knowing smile which he dutifully ignored, along with the disappointment in his chest as she confirmed Elain wasn’t in. “Now I want you to cover a large area of where you generally want the shape of the star to go, it doesn’t have to be perfect but cover much more than you think you’d need to.”

He hesitates, “won’t this cover up your sky? It’s a dark colour.”

“Just trust me.”

He followed her instructions, cringing as his brush made contact with her beautiful wall and went over the faint background stars she had already done, but relaxed when he saw they were still partially visible.

Az looked back at her, seeing his shadows lazily inspecting them, as if they wanted a part in the activity their master is occupied with. Feyre playfully eyed the curious one that grazed her hand as she took his current brush from his scarred hand to switch it. “Now with this fan brush, I want you to coat it in the white paint. And as you do so, get a feel for how the bristles bend and move.”

Doing as High Lady said, he got her guidance once he brought the loaded brush to the wall, being sure to dab, not swipe the white in a near full coverage circle followed by a line over the shade of blue he had no idea how to pronounce.

“So this is where the magic begins,” she stated when he finished and passed a third brush over, a flat paddle one identical to the first and this time a cloth. “You see that perfectly clean teardrop you made? You’re gonna ruin it.”

At the alarmed look he gave her, she just cackled. “I knew you’d make that face, Rhys did the exact same. I want you to very lightly swipe the brush starting at the largest end of the teardrop and out towards the tail of the star. That’s the only motion you’ll be doing. And after each swipe you can gently wipe off the brush before starting again. You can also practice the strokes around the mountain until you feel ready like Rhys did, the sky there is also dry.”

With a deep breath, he took a step away and tried it until he felt like he got the technique she wanted down. This was for his family, he reminded himself, he will not let his nephew down. And despite getting her nod of approval, he still felt like he was going in blind as he did what she said and his jaw dropped.

Well shit. Now he understood why she wanted him to put down the colour he chose first.

“The blue is actually transparent; so while it looks dark in the tube, it blends out much lighter. Especially with white under or overtop. You’re doing wet-on-wet blending.” What was once just a bright blob over blue so dark you couldn’t see it on her perfect walls, he could now see how the white faded. How the light and the dark mixed until they became one. So Az wiped the excess off his brush, and continued on and on until it looked similar enough to what she and Rhys created. They fell into a rhythm, Feyre handing him back the fan brush to brighten or a new one with bristles so impossibly soft as they worked as a team. She barely had to tell him what to do now, so with next to no pressure he feathered it out vertical rather than the almost horizontal strokes from before, until only a streak of blue light remained. They could’ve been at this for minutes or hours, he had no idea. He didn’t even question her instruction to use a densely bristled tool he could’ve sworn was a toothbrush to flick on watered down white paint for the star trail.

“This is incredible, Feyre.” He stated, stepping back at last.

“That wasn’t me, that was all you my friend.” She grinned at him. “Once everyone’s is dry, I’m adding a sheer shimmery paint to make them pop, but even without it you did a beautiful job.”

He felt heat rise to his face, and inclined his head in thanks without removing his eyes from the wall.

“You certainly have an eye for this, Az. Care to quit and become a painter? I could use an assistant.”

A chill went through him, and he started to turn in her direction before the window caught his attention. Dusk must have fallen along with the rain who knows how long ago. About to rub his temples, Feyre squeaked out a warning before he remembered the task at hand and looked down at himself. The plain black long sleeve shirt covered in splatters didn’t matter, he goes through them like water for work but the paint coating his skin made his stomach drop the same way her jest did. Much different than the red he was used to seeing there, all the blood he still couldn’t wash away.

He can paint a picture with his knife, but nothing like Feyre’s ability of creation. Each slash he makes as delicate and precise a dance as any Nesta favours, but instead it’s to a symphony of screams. And unlike Elain… the only soil he sees is grave dirt. If the bodies make it that far.

His work is never meant to been seen by others, it’s means to and end, a way to protect his family and his court. Unlike their work, where it would be a crime to hide it from the world.

“Tempting offer, Cursebreaker,” Az murmured, swapping the dirty cloth for a damp one his shadows brought him. Paying close attention to his siphons and not his scars, he still didn’t feel clean enough no matter how hard he wiped the paint from his skin. “Sadly, I don’t think your mate would be too thrilled to have to hire someone else to feed the creatures in Hewn City.”

She snorted, making a lighthearted comment about at least no one had to feed Byraxis, for now… The forced tease in her voice didn’t fool him as she realized she must’ve hit a nerve, but he appreciated her effort anyway.

“I do have to head out, but I’ll pop by soon to see the progress when I drop off paperwork.” He told her, his lips pressed to the top of her head and shockingly made contact with her hair in a brief farewell. Rhys must’ve lessened the shield knowing Az was with her, but not by much considering both her and the babe’s scent was still concealed.

Feyre did invited him to stay for dinner which he politely declined. It wouldn’t be served for an hour, but he needed space and to fly to clear his head—still feeling like if he looked down he’d be dripping blood that didn’t belong to him as he made his was out. He did try not to rush out as he walk through the maze of supplies strewn about the covered floor, keeping his wings high even as his shadows tugged at him, but he had a feeling she knew his reason for leaving. Well, at least the other reason.

Lightning cracks through the sky, snapping Azriel out of his memories. Damn, He must be more tired than he thought. If breaking one of the cardinal rules of flying—also known as “PAY ATTENTION JACKASS!” by his brothers when they taught him—wasn’t enough, he’s not even going to the right place. Despite not living there for years, he’d been heading towards the town house and not the House of Wind.

The storm just seems to be picking up, but at least with the downpour he no longer felt the warm spray of blood coating him rather than the paint, he just felt nothing at all. Well, nothing besides wanting to get the fuck home. Az really didn’t have the energy to fly up a mountain or winnowing through this even if it wouldn’t be his first time. But considering how often lightning hits the rocks rather than the surrounding city, crashing at the town house is easiest. It’s for the best, with it sitting empty now. At least he’d be alone.

Az pauses mid-flight though, when he notices the lights already on inside. And the smoke rising from the chimney only to dissipate in the rain.

What the hell? Who would be dumb enough to break into their high lord and inner circle’s home? It’s not like it’s broadcasted who owns the house but it’s pretty common knowledge after this long.

At least storms can be a great tool for his field of work, it’s almost a blessing in disguise he plans to use to its full advantage. Landing atop the roof as gently as possible, he ensures his wing beat blends in with the rain like it has hundreds of times before. Using his siphons to unlock the door and slipping inside, the creak of the hinge merely just a gust of wind as he shuts it behind him.

That’s when the smell of jasmine and honey hits him so strongly he has to bite back his moan. But it seems like he was the only one who did.

Because mixed within that scent ingrained in his brain, is Elain’s arousal.

And she’s…

Oh fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

#elriel #sarah j maas #Baby’s first fic #Fluff #platonic love #bob Ross who?#There will be smut I promise #Az has baby fever?#elain archeron #feyre archeron #azriel

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raith-way · 2 years

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1, 7, 9, 23, 41 annnddd 50 for . . . Grace Blackburn!!! ^_^

thank you for the ask!! i’m sorry it took me so long & i’m about 87% sure this is for the relationships edition asks. if i’m wrong, you can send another ask and tell me that i’m wrong lol

okay, grace’s original ship was with another oc - eliot greenwood. then it was changed to kieran moore. now it’s back to eliot, because i do love eliot and he’s obviously grace’s soulmate. (don’t worry, kieran has been gifted to a loving home in a different btvs fic.)

so, these answers are for grace and eliot.

1: what were their first impressions of one another?

they both had a lot going on in their separate lives, so their first impressions weren’t that impactful. for grace, she just saw another human. for eliot, he just saw another not-human. their second impressions are much more important and impactful, considering that grace is saving eliot’s soul after eliot has been killed.

7: what do they argue about?

their arguments are surprisingly domestic for a couple living on the hellmouth. eliot just wants grace to stop leaving her clothes all over the floor. grace thinks that if eliot can clean every weapon in the house, he can wash up the dishes in the sink. just little things. when it comes to the big stuff, they’re surprisingly on the same wavelength. their greater priorities are perfectly aligned, so they don’t argue about the big things for the most part.

9: what’s the most difficult thing they’ve been through together?

what’s the plural form of apocalypse? their most difficult time together is during the season five arc, with the hell gods, because they both have a bigger part to play than either of them want. grace and eliot both want to be support characters, but they get dragged into a pretty big and very important fight that leaves them with some major changes and responsibilities.

23: your OCs are on a trip and there’s only one bed! what do they do?

before they’re actually together? eliot is going to argue that he can sleep on the floor, he’s slept in worse places, and grace is going to roll her eyes because they’re adults and surely they can share a bed without making things weird. it’s an argument that lasts until grace lays on the floor beside eliot and refuses to move, making eliot concede and pick her up to put them both on the bed. (spoiler: morning cuddles and grace’s awkward attempts to diffuse the tension by rambling which is actually just her flirting. eliot remembers none of it because it’s pre-caffeine for him, or so he claims.)

41: what green flags do they have for one another?

they’re so well matched, it’s ridiculous. for grace, it’s eliot being open to casual physical intimacy. grace needs to feel grounded sometimes, and eliot can be half asleep or half dead and will still reach for grace to let her know that everything is okay. grace is a character that frequently loses touch with reality, so knowing that she has that is a relief and probably the first building block of their relationship. for eliot, it’s grace’s complete honesty and transparency. once they actually know each other, grace doesn’t hold back. good, bad, unknown, doesn’t matter. eliot can always count on grace to be open and honest with him, which is something he needs after being kept in the dark for most of his life.

50: is there anything that scares them about their friendship/relationship?

the intensity and suddenness scared them at first. they went from being strangers to basically being willing to do anything for each other, which was a little scary for various reasons. grace is terrified of eliot dying, because her last two relationships ended when her partners died. eliot is afraid that one day grace will slip away, in a vision or a blackout, and not come out of it.

#asks i have answered #darknightfrombeyond #oc: grace blackburn #oc: eliot greenwood #buffy the vampire slayer #fic: things are getting a little hazy #these were so fun to answer #i love these two #they’re so perfectly balanced #their relationship would be so boring if there were less apocalypses

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tehuti88-art · 1 year

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1/27/23: This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Isaak Schindel, sans cap (top drawing) and with cap (bottom drawing). He's the Lagerälteste (kapo) at the labor camp in the story...considering that today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day (I only found out as I was drawing him), I felt it'd be terribly inappropriate to submit his art on Reddit, so he'll just go here instead.

Regarding his design, he's a fawn boxer; his character is somewhat short, stocky, and tough, so it fit. He has hazel eyes and black hair, though the latter is kept shaved throughout the series. Kapos were often granted favors such as a private room and civilian clothes; I couldn't find anything about them being allowed to keep their hair, and my character still wears striped clothes with a yellow-and-green star (he committed manslaughter before ending up in the camp), though he also wears a civilian jacket/coat with armband over top of them, and a civilian cap. He has a scar over the bridge of his nose.

TUMBLR EDIT: I was well through Schindel's sketch before a news item on TV mentioned it was International Holocaust Remembrance Day. o_o; So submitting his artwork to Reddit seemed not just potentially disrespectful but a bad idea as well, my character portraits are my least popular art and sometimes get downvoted. So I've posted him separately. Schindel's background is still HIGHLY in development and so may change drastically still, but here we go.

Isaak Schindel and his wife Rebekkah are poor, working-class Jews residing in the unnamed city of the story; they end up moved into a ghetto, which for some reason I haven't figured out, not all of the city's Jews end up in, since Josef Diamant, for example, is never sent there. (Don't know why this is. Maybe it's the poor Jews who are targeted first, whereas Diamant is middle class. This ghetto is a recent concept so still being ironed out.) Anyway, I needn't get into how difficult ghetto life is, partly because I haven't read into it a lot, partly because it's obvious. The Schindels just barely manage to make do. When Rebekkah gets pregnant, there are mixed feelings; obviously they're overjoyed at the thought of their first baby, yet worried about how they will provide for it. Schindel starts taking on shady jobs to get by, to the dismay of Rebekkah, though there are few other options.

The ghetto is patrolled by Jewish police officers. It's a complicated issue that has similarities to what Schindel himself later ends up doing. Some of them are sympathetic, some of them are Nazi collaborators. Schindel, while getting warned away from an illegal situation one day, happens to run into a sympathetic policeman who knows him and Rebekkah. He steers Schindel aside and whispers a different warning: The Nazis are planning some sort of special action centered on the ghetto. "Special action" is a term you never want to hear the Nazis use--it's NEVER good. He can't give many details, but he suspects it has something to do with the new camp that's been constructed at the edge of the city. He urges Schindel and Rebekkah to try to get out of the ghetto and out of the city while they have the chance. When Schindel presses for more info, and asks how the hell are they supposed to get out of there, the policeman has nothing else to offer, he just stresses his warning, cuffs Schindel with his nightstick, and yells at him to get lost, for appearances' sake. Schindel returns home to Rebekkah, increasingly anxious. He keeps his ears open in the following days and starts catching further rumors: The ghetto is soon to be liquidated and the able-bodied men sent to the new camp for hard labor. The women and children and the feeble...who knows. Easy guess, though. The Nazis consider pregnant Jews to be especially useless, so...you get the idea.

Let's take an aside to look at this camp. It's just begun operations, and like its fellow camps, is run by the SS-Totenkopfverbände. It's not intended as an extermination camp, though of course it can't make use of the sick, weak, or injured, so those men are subject to execution via firing squad, followed by cremation. A high-ranking SS-TV officer briefly takes charge of the camp while it's being set up and organized, but then they need to find a permanent replacement to serve as commandant. This officer requests that he be brought the files of camp guards with complaints on their records--"Excessive force, being a little too strenuous with punishments, those sort of things." He and an underling sort through these before the underling brings out a file of a guard accused of causing the death of an inmate. Big deal, the officer thinks, that happens all the time. What makes this one so unique? Well, this guard just happened to force a prisoner to go running right into the camp's electric fence. All right, so that's intriguing; the officer asks for the guard's name. Underling replies that his name is Ernst Dannecker.

Sturmbannführer (Major) Dannecker is promoted to Obersturmbannführer (Lieutenant Colonel) and called to take over. He arrives in time to watch final preparations and the first arrivals of prisoners. He isn't splashy; he seems almost bored as he observes things, and doesn't make much of a strong impression. He does select an adjutant, Maj. Lars Franke, and tells him to keep things in order as he gets settled in. The other guards get to asking around and gradually more of a picture of him emerges: In his teens he was apparently forced into the military academy by his father, against his and his mother's wishes, and several fellow students-to-be witnessed some drama between the three on the railway platform; his mother collapsed after he got on the train, and one of the others jokingly called him "mama's boy,"* leading to laughter. He was doing moderately well in academy when the Great War broke out and everyone headed off to the front without the chance to say goodbye to family first. By chance, Dannecker and the former student who'd teased him came across each other--several years older now--in a trench and the other exclaimed cheerfully, "Hey look, it's Mama's Boy!"--only to promptly get decked in the face and then pummeled before several others could stop Dannecker. The other guy insisted it was just a joke, and apologized repeatedly, but people made sure to steer clear of pissing Dannecker off again: Turns out he has a hair-trigger temper concealed behind a smarmy oily exterior, and no one can really be sure what will set him off or when. There were some other rumors of him engaging in unsavory activities during the war, though he did well, earned the Iron Cross, all that. He didn't lose his military position after the armistice, though when the Schutzstaffel formed he resigned his military post to join them instead, and was assigned to a camp as a guard. (I don't think he ever serves in the Waffen-SS, though I'm unsure.) While new prisoners were arriving, several of them put up a fuss, insisting that as soldiers who'd fought for Germany, they should be freed; Dannecker recognized one of them as the man who'd taunted him (this is figured out only in retrospect)--he's now wearing a yellow star, as he's Jewish--something that was well known during the Great War as well. Witnesses said they didn't speak to each other, though the prisoner went pale, and Dannecker smiled. (Dannecker...has a f**king creepy smile, and everyone knows it's bad news.) In the following weeks he went out of his way to psychologically torment the prisoner by various means, until one day, while he was merely walking in the prisoner's direction, the other man panicked, turned, and ran at the electric fence, apparently committing suicide; the guards had to turn off power to the fence to pry his blackened fingers loose while Dannecker stood and watched. Nobody could prove he'd actually done anything, witnesses clearly saw that he didn't even touch or threaten the guy, but the incident went in his file along with several lesser offenses in which he terrorized inmates. Despite his unpredictable temper, he's also very, very patient when it comes to people who anger him in a particular way--he makes those people his "pet projects" and keeps at them until they snap. The officer who puts him in charge of the labor camp has no idea of the future consequences of this choice.

(*EDIT, OH MY GOD THIS IS A THING. It's called Muttersöhnchen, and apparently there's a sort of "psychological diagnosis" for it. Hahahaha!! Oh my I need to look up slang phrases in German more often...anyway...Dannecker's situation doesn't ENTIRELY line up with that concept. He IS a "mama's boy" of a sort, but...well, I can't get into the details, at least not here. Maybe if I ever get his profile written up. Suffice it to say it's, uh...well, skeezy, just like the rest of Dannecker's life. And it explains a lot of his behavior toward his stepfamily later. But moving on.)

Anyway, even without knowing all this stuff about Dannecker, Schindel has heard enough: He heads home in the middle of the day, surprising Rebekkah, who's not used to him being home so early. Sits her down, and insists that she help him out with a plan, since "You're the smart one, the one with a head for things." Rebekkah can't understand why he wants them to pick up and leave NOW, and tries to protest, but his demeanor is such that she finally realizes how serious he is and they make tentative plans to flee the ghetto; she knows a weak point which isn't as well patrolled by the police, and has some distant family still on the outside; perhaps they'll provide shelter. Schindel hates asking for help, which is why she knows her husband is serious about this now.

When the Nazi officials sweep through the ghetto, it comes completely by surprise--no warning aside from what the policeman had already told Schindel. They wake up at the noise and chaos going on outside and unlike many of the others, know what's happening; Rebekkah has a little pack ready to go (supplies for the baby to come--she's visibly pregnant by now) and they head out, furtively hurrying in the direction of the ghetto's weak point. Before they can reach it, however, one of the policemen accosts them, swinging his club at Rebekkah; he hits her in the arm before Schindel attacks him in return, punching him in the gut and face and sending him falling back against some bricks, where he strikes his head--killed instantly. More police arrive--Schindel yells at Rebekkah to run, and that's the last he sees of her, running away, before the police take him into custody.

Schindel (after being smacked around a little first) finds himself brought before a Nazi official who's told of how he killed a policeman. Schindel insists it was an accident, he was just protecting his wife. Nazi official says this is what men are supposed to do, defend their wives and families, so--"Manslaughter," he says to Schindel, "You can't say we aren't generous, can you?" Schindel protests, "Don't I get a trial?--a court, a judge?" Nazi official just laughs a little. "Look around, do you see a court? Your people don't get a court. But I'll make sure you get transportation."

(Brief note to say I'm fairly certain what this guy is doing isn't entirely legal, but do you really think any of his fellows would care...?)

Well, he keeps that promise--the men are herded out of the ghetto and toward the nearby railroad spur--the ghetto was placed here intentionally. They're loaded onto the waiting train and the doors are closed. The cars are so crowded the men have to stand. It takes a while to start moving, and stops not long after, just sitting on the tracks; "Why are they doing this?--if we were in a truck we'd be moving a lot faster," somebody says, to which someone else replies, "I think that's the point." And indeed, although the camp is not so far away, the train ride takes an inordinately long time, and yes this is intentional.

By now you probably know the routine, arriving at camp, selections (Schindel is told to go right), getting stripped, showered, shaved, tattooed. Schindel is utterly demoralized by the time he's presented with striped clothing and has to provide his name and have a photo taken. An officer recognizes his name--"This is the one, the one they said killed a policeman"--and a patch is placed on Schindel's shirt: A yellow-and-green Judenstern, or six-point star. He's sent out into the camp and made to get into formation with the rest of the new arrivals. An SS officer briefly details what they're to expect from now on, and they're given their new "jobs"--basically, working themselves to death, since it isn't an extermination camp but as it's put later in the story, EVERY camp is an extermination camp, just that some kill you more slowly than others.

Schindel resigns himself to this new situation--what options are there? He's surprised to find that the ghetto police, most of whom are deeply hated by the other ghetto residents, are incarcerated in the camp along with the rest of them. They were Nazi collaborators--some of them even seemed to enjoy what they were doing. What are they doing here? He locates the policeman who'd tipped him off to the raid and asks what's going on. The former policeman--now a prisoner just like him--tersely explains that it doesn't matter how useful you may have been--to the Nazis, an Untermensch is an Untermensch at the end of the day, and as soon as you outlive your usefulness, you're equal to the rest of them. Here in the camp, especially, it's expected to be every man for himself.

Schindel tries to believe this isn't true, but he sees how the regular prisoners target the former police officers, most of whom don't last very long--the SS guards, while technically not allowing fights, don't really do much to stop them, and indeed seem to find them amusing, occasionally making bets on the outcome. Schindel watches silently one day as the body of the policeman he knew is carried off, battered and bloody, to the crematorium. Thus when another inmate picks a fight with him, he has no choice but to fight back, and win. He pummels the other guy into the ground before the guards step in to stop the fight, striking Schindel a few times with their clubs and then having the other guy--unconscious, dead, Schindel doesn't know--carried away. Shortly after, a guard instructs Schindel to follow him: The commandant, Dannecker, wants to see him. Full of dread, Schindel obeys.

He's heard stories of Dannecker--the other inmates call him "Der Teufel," the Devil--but hasn't had the chance to interact with him personally, and has seen him only from afar. He's now led to the commandant, who's standing in the yard smoking a cigarette. He's taller than Schindel, and fit, but not exactly intimidating on first glance; he doesn't look like a devil. He gives Schindel a look (Schindel keeps his head down) and says, "So you're the Jew who likes killing so much." This makes Schindel wince--of course he doesn't like killing--but he doesn't protest.

Dannecker: "Name."

Schindel: "I...Isaak Schindel, Herr Kommandant."

Dannecker: (taps Schindel's chest with his crop) "Why do you wear that green patch?" [NOTE, it's actually green and yellow, but Dannecker knows what the yellow part means.]

Schindel: "M...manslaughter, Herr Kommandant."

Dannecker: "Who'd you kill?"

Schindel: "I...I killed a ghetto policeman."

Dannecker: "A policeman, huh?"

Schindel: "It was an accident, Herr Kommandant, I didn't mean to kill him."

Dannecker: "So what did you mean to do?"

Schindel: "I was just trying to protect my wife and child, Herr Kommandant."

Dannecker: "Your family...? It's always important for a man to protect his family, ja?"

Schindel: (silence)

Dannecker: (drops and stamps out cigarette, steps closer) (puts crop under Schindel's chin and forces his head up) "You like killing people, Jew?"

Schindel: "I...I don't like killing people, Herr Kommandant."

Dannecker: "Really? You seem to do it a lot, for someone who doesn't like it."

Schindel: (silence)

Dannecker: (looks around) "I don't see your wife or child. Who were you protecting this time?"

Schindel: "M...myself, Herr Kommandant."

Dannecker: "Ah...?"

Schindel: "The...the other man picked a fight with me, H-Herr Kommandant...I had to defend myself or he'd kill me."

Dannecker: "So you do like killing, ja?"

Schindel: (silence, though he's just about in tears by now)

Dannecker: (leans close, lowers his voice) "You also like an extra helping of food...? A nice, warm place to sleep, perhaps...?"

Schindel: (silence)

Dannecker: "Hm?"

Schindel: "I...I d-don't know what you mean."

Dannecker: "I mean you like killing so much, why don't you make use of it?"

Dannecker briefly lays it out: The camp needs a Lagerälteste, or kapo, to help the guards oversee the prisoners. Dannecker's camp isn't a big one, so technically he could do without a prisoner functionary, but Franke accidentally put the idea in his head that this might be interesting: In effect, it pits the prisoners against each other, which is the sort of thing he finds entertaining. The job of kapo generally goes to criminals, since they're the ones most likely to be okay with committing violence against their fellow inmates; Schindel is an especially good candidate, given that he's already killed one person and likely another (Dannecker never clarifies whether he killed the prisoner or not, though he hints that he did--this is pretty typical of him). If Schindel wants the job, it means putting up with the fact that EVERYONE will now hate him--both the SS guards he serves, and his fellow prisoners, whom he'll oversee on the Nazis' behalf--he'll have a giant target on his back. But it also means extra food rations...a private room to sleep in...and no beatings. Schindel despises the very thought of working for these awful people who took him from his family...but his family is the only thing keeping him going so far. Dannecker offers him the chance to survive long enough to get back to them. He's already killed somebody...it can't be that bad, just to try to stay alive. Anyone else would do it, right? Although it nauseates him to his core, he takes the offer. And Dannecker smiles his devil smile.

Schindel assumes it's going to be a trick, but nope, he's given a small but private room, extra food, better shoes, a cap and jacket to wear with an authoritative armband, and a club to carry. He rises every morning with the guards and rouses the prisoners from their barracks and out into the yard for roll call, then wanders through the yard throughout the day, making sure everyone's doing their jobs. It grows easier over time to tap, then smack someone with his stick, then to give someone a beatdown if they get too far out of line. (For a while he even socializes, in a sort of way, with a guard named Jan Delbrück, who occasionally stands in the yard with him and shares cigarettes, at least until Dannecker decides Delbrück is better off sorting papers in a file room.) Dannecker holds up his end of the arrangement in that Schindel is never on the receiving end of any beatings, but Dannecker never said anything about his trademark psychological torture--he inflicts that on everyone, prisoners and guards alike--even his own adjutant, Maj. Franke, isn't exempt. Watching him target others this way, including occasionally himself, Schindel finally gets why they call him Der Teufel. He's fortunate that he never ends up one of what everyone calls Dannecker's "pet projects"--these are relatively rare, since their execution takes such a massive amount of time and effort, and most people are careful not to piss Dannecker off enough to go through with this. Simple beatings (usually performed by his guards or Schindel) or gunshots to the head are usually enough to do the trick.

Schindel gets the chance to witness Dannecker pull off a pet project firsthand when a new prisoner named Josef Diamant arrives at the camp. Diamant is Schindel's opposite in many ways--not a family man, a skilled worker (he's a jeweler/watch repairer with his own shop), middle class, educated. But still--Jewish. And like Schindel, he sports a yellow-and-green star, marking him as a criminal--except his offense is even worse than Schindel's--he didn't kill anyone, but he did forge documents that helped numerous other Jews escape the country. The SS vandalized his shop and tortured him with his own jeweler's tools to get the names of his clients, but he didn't give them up; so, to the camp he went. He doesn't capture Schindel's, or anyone's, attention when he arrives, just another prisoner, but that changes one day when Dannecker loses his temper--actually a rare occurrence--and starts beating an inmate. Everyone just stops what they're doing and watches--nobody intervenes. Then, a noise--a prisoner (probably Lukas Mettbach) lets out a short, cut-off warning, but Diamant is already on the move. As Dannecker is bringing his stick down at the cowering prisoner, Diamant strikes it from his hand and sends it flying into the mud. Commandant and prisoner stand there frozen, staring at each other. Everyone--Dannecker, Diamant, Franke, Schindel, the other prisoners--has the exact same expression. Absolutely nobody can believe Diamant just did that.

Everyone expects Dannecker to lay into Diamant next, but he simply lowers his arm, turns, and walks back toward the administration building. Diamant tries to help up the beaten prisoner but is shoved away--"What have you done? You've only made it worse! He'll kill us both, now!" And indeed, a murmur ripples through the camp: Dannecker is striding back, seemingly having composed himself. The prisoner gets on his knees and starts begging for forgiveness--Dannecker doesn't even stop to look at him, just pulls out his revolver and shoots him in the head. Schindel and everyone else watches as Diamant panics and goes running, Dannecker fiddling with his gun as he just continues walking after him. He corners Diamant against a wall, puts the gun to his head, and fires--nothing happens, yet Dannecker smiles and says, "Your lucky day, Jew." There's a reason Dannecker prefers carrying a revolver--easy to play Russian roulette, one of his favorite torture methods. He doesn't kill Diamant that day, but later that night, he arrives at one of the prisoners' barracks after dark and motions the guard to let him in. Schindel isn't there to see it, but other prisoners who are wakened by Dannecker's unexpected appearance murmur about it the next day. Dannecker singles out Diamant's bunk, kneels down, presses his gun to his head, and whispers a promise. Diamant is officially his new pet project.

Schindel admittedly doesn't feel too sorry for Diamant over the following weeks--he was too uppity for his own good, didn't know his place, and raised the potential of danger toward the rest of the prisoners, so of course he deserves what he gets. (A recurring theme I've noticed throughout the story is the differences between the social classes, and I figure that's part of Schindel's lack of empathy as well--Diamant used to be better off than he was, in Schindel's view he had life handed to him on a platter, it's about time he was taken down a notch.) He knows how Dannecker gets while pursuing a pet project, however, and even if he isn't the target, it makes him nervous--it's easy, as an innocent bystander, to get sucked in. And this is exactly what happens, not just to him but to others. The dominoes unintentionally set up by that SS-TV officer so long ago finally start to fall, and one of the first is Dannecker's own stepdaughter, Margarethe.

Margarethe, or Gret, is by now well known to the prisoners and guards. The oldest of Dannecker's four stepchildren and in her teens--petite (she's only about five feet tall and looks quite childlike next to her stepfather), fair skinned, blond haired, blue eyed, and stone faced--she's become Dannecker's frequent companion when he arrives at the camp in the morning (technically Dannecker should be residing on camp property, but he instead lives in a house nearby); he always helps her out of the limo and parades her, in her immaculate dress, boots, and braids, past the guards and prisoners to the main building and then to his office, where she keeps him company throughout the day. He's exceptionally proud of showing her off, and appears to spoil her, gifting her her numerous colored dresses, hair ribbons, jewelry, toys; every time they see her she's arm in arm with Dannecker or holding his hand, or he has his hand on her shoulder, the very picture of a doting father. It's only when Schindel and others look a little bit past the surface that a different picture emerges. Dannecker never brings his wife or three other stepchildren to the camp--although he spoils the others as well, Gret is the one on whom he lavishes all his attention. He's frequently seen whispering in Gret's ear, putting his arm around her and holding her a bit too close, smiling that devil's smile at her while her face always remains blank--she never laughs--never smiles. They spend a lot of time alone in his office. And a guard mentions one occasion when they were leaving, Gret's normally pristine braids were a little bit mussed and her stare a little bit glassier and more vacant than usual, and when he wished her farewell her voice was faint and hoarse. It's obvious something unpleasant is going on behind the loving facade, but nobody speaks up about it, it's not their business.

(Later in the story a character sees an old family photo of Dannecker with his parents, Walther and Margit, and despite the lack of blood relation, remarks on the resemblance between Margit and Margarethe--petite, beautiful, fair skinned, blue eyed, long blond braids. Remember "Mama's Boy"? I'll just leave it at that.)

Schindel, like the others, suspects something weird is going on, but also keeps mum. It's Diamant, of course, who acts, and sets off a complicated and dramatic string of events. It starts out with him watching Gret every time she arrives at camp; she glances at him, and he smiles at her. Diamant's smile is not like Dannecker's. Gret responds by blushing and turning away, but she starts looking for Diamant more often as she goes by. She never smiles back...but one day, she does arrive in a yellow-and-green dress. This catches Diamant's attention unlike anything else, and it catches Schindel's attention, too. He'd noticed the looks shared between the two and let it pass, but for some reason he can't explain, this incident alarms him; he shoves Diamant against a wall later on and demands to know what's up with him and Fräulein Gret. Diamant denies anything's up, insinuates maybe Schindel's the one who has a thing for the commandant's stepdaughter, gets Schindel's club shoved into his gut in response. "Mind your business, Jew!" Schindel snaps, "And eyes off Fräulein Gret." He can't think of much else to do on so little, though, and lets him be after that.

I need to pause here and back up a bit. Schindel has never liked Diamant, as I said, but by now he has an even bigger reason to despise him. I also already mentioned the tendency for Dannecker's schemes to suck in innocent bystanders; Schindel is one of them. Dannecker spends a great deal of time making Diamant's life a living hell in every way he can think of without outright killing him; just killing a pet project is no fun, it's much better to watch them slowly destroy themselves--he got a taste of that when his mere presence was enough to send his old foe running straight into the electric fence. Well, despite his patience for such things, after a while Dannecker begins to grow tired of just how long it's taking Diamant to break, so he racks his brain trying to think of something new and creative to try. And he does come up with something, and it involves Schindel. Why Schindel?--he's never crossed Dannecker, always obeyed orders, a good well-behaved obedient kapo. And that's exactly why Schindel: Dannecker has Franke bring the two prisoners to his office, where he points this out to Diamant, how obedient and broken Schindel is, and that's exactly what he has in mind for Diamant. And now he thinks he knows how to do it. Diamant is different from Schindel in another respect: Schindel is looking out for himself, whereas Diamant still has some of his altruism left. Of course Dannecker can't break him by threatening or humiliating him. He might be able to break him, however, by having him humiliate someone else--namely, Schindel.

I can't go into any detail about what exactly Dannecker does here. (Even in my writing, Diamant simply relates it himself, somewhat in passing.) When he calls Franke back, however, Diamant does indeed look positively broken inside, and Schindel is outright crying. Dannecker doesn't explain to his confused adjutant what's happened, just cheerfully tells him to return them to the yard. They leave without a word. Yet a few days later, while Schindel is overseeing the prisoners as they leave their barracks, without provocation he hits Diamant in the back of the leg, knocking him down; he then commences beating the s**t out of him, all the while screaming, "Fight back! FIGHT BACK!" Diamant covers his head but does nothing to defend himself; Franke, hearing the commotion, approaches, only to accidentally get hit in the face by Schindel. The guards knock Schindel out and he, Diamant, and Franke all go to the medical building for attention. Franke, his nose broken, warns the other two--when they regain consciousness--that they better not do such a thing again. When they've recovered enough to go back to work, they do; camp life returns mostly to normal, though Schindel does still target Diamant for a brief beatdown here and there, and unlike previously, Diamant never fights back. Franke is worried that when Dannecker finds out about the fight, he'll be angry, but all he does is smirk a little and go on with things. The dynamic between the three--Dannecker, Diamant, and Schindel--has changed.

So of course, now that Diamant seems to be up to something involving Gret, Schindel is full of dread that he hasn't learned his lesson, and could end up sucking him in again. He isn't quite clever enough to figure out what Diamant is planning, though; just that every day, a guard starts calling him away from the yard for extended periods, and he returns only when the workday is over. Then one day Schindel has actually been permitted inside the administration building to help transport some boxes of files to the back file room where Delbrück is currently occupied. He's just carried in another box and is heading back to close the door when the sound of running footsteps coming closer catches his attention. As he watches, somebody flies past, abruptly stumbling to a halt as soon as he sees Schindel looking--it's Diamant, and he has no guards with him. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, eyes wide. More footsteps come running and now Gret appears, also giving Schindel a look; the three stare at each other in silence a brief moment before Gret grasps Diamant's sleeve, urges, "Come on," and the two hurry on up the hallway and out of sight. Schindel can't be sure, but he could've sworn that for at least the last few seconds, Diamant's eyes were pleading for him to go with them. His feet are rooted to the spot, however, and he stays--good obedient Schindel. His legs start to work again and he shuts the door and slowly walks back into the room, his brain belatedly recalling something else odd about what he just saw: Diamant was carrying a revolver--and Gret was carrying a giant Ehrendegen--an SS honor sword, exactly like the one Dannecker wears. He returns to the files and to Delbrück, who hasn't noticed anything amiss; he jumps when Franke arrives, expecting some sort of awful news, but Franke just wonders why they're taking so long with the files and says to hurry it up, then leaves. Schindel waits, and waits, filling with more and more dread, yet nothing happens. After about an hour, he's almost convinced himself he imagined the whole thing, when the camp alarm finally starts to sound. Something awful has indeed happened.

Delbrück, just as startled and confused, exits the room with Schindel close behind to figure out what's going on. Other guards are racing back and forth through the building, eyes wide, faces pale; Delbrück accosts a few, catches a few comments, grabs Schindel's sleeve and goes running himself, toward Dannecker's office. A big crowd of guards is gathering here, and Franke is berating one of them loudly. When he spots Delbrück and Schindel he lays into the kapo immediately--"And YOU! Where were you? What did you have to do with this?" Schindel, of course, has no idea what's happening, and cowers behind Delbrück, who fortunately vouches for him: "He's been with me all day, in the file room! What's going on? What's with the alarm?" Franke says there's been a prisoner escape--that much Schindel had guessed on his own. Then he says that Commandant Dannecker is dead--THAT, Schindel had had no clue.

The rest of the details seep out over time. A while back, Gret Dannecker had requested a gift from her stepfather--a ring. Always willing to spoil her, Dannecker had his guards fetch Diamant--a jeweler. Sure, Dannecker had been torturing him for weeks, including ramming a jeweler's file through his hand, permanently damaging the nerves--but Diamant agreed to design and make a ring for Gret, with the right tools and materials. Dannecker set up a temporary workshop near his office and gave Diamant the required tools--under strict supervision--and materials (including gold bits taken from prisoners' teeth); the reason for Diamant's daily visits to the administration building was to work on Gret's ring. Nobody's quite sure of the details after that, but apparently supervision of Diamant's activities slacked off a little, enabling him to be alone with Dannecker when he presented him with the ring--somehow, he acquired a gun, and shot and killed Dannecker before escaping with about a dozen other prisoners in what was obviously a coordinated effort, plotted ahead of time. Even more alarming is that Gret Dannecker, who was visiting that day, is also missing--presumably taken hostage by Diamant. He hates that he has such thoughts--Schindel has nothing against Gret, she's been polite to him the few times they've interacted--but he suspects the situation isn't quite as it appears. It isn't long before these suspicions are confirmed.

Franke attempts to assume command of the camp, a decision which doesn't go over well with the other guards; when one of the guards stands up to him, he orders Schindel to beat him. Schindel freezes--he doesn't mean to disobey, but he's not permitted to touch the SS guards, so he has no idea how to react. Franke loses his temper, grabs Schindel's club, and beats the guard unconscious himself while everyone else watches, before warning the other guards not to provide him with help or he'll do the same to them; he storms back into the building, and locks himself in Dannecker's office. Schindel notices the other prisoners edging toward the unconscious guard with murder in their eyes; he picks up his club and brandishes it threateningly so they back off, though one of them spits at him first. He sits by the guard for the rest of the day and night; the other guards never announce meal time, never call the prisoners back to work or to their barracks. The camp is in effect left to itself until another Obersturmbannführer arrives the next day, alerted by a guard who'd fled during the beating; he approaches Schindel first and demands to know what's going on. Schindel explains the best he can. The Obersturmbannführer tells the other guards to take the injured guard to the medical building, heads to Dannecker's office, orders Franke to open up and get out, and without much ado takes command of the camp himself. This is Hasso Reinhardt, and he's quickly authorized as the new commandant as the SS investigation of Dannecker's murder picks up speed.

I already mentioned the escape didn't go QUITE as the initial SS story of it insisted. It's actually worse. Nobody knows HOW Diamant and the others fled the camp, and the SS doesn't figure this out until the end of the war, when Reinhardt and Delbrück, his adjutant, discover a hidden passage system under the camp--there had been rumors of it, but nobody knew where it was, except Dannecker--and Gret. Turns out Dannecker had taken Gret down there one day, telling her the walls and door were so thick nobody would hear her scream, and he was right. By chance, Reinhardt and Delbrück discover the entry to the main passage not far from Dannecker's office, hidden behind a tapestry. So, how did the prisoners find out about the passage...? This is the most scandalous part of the story: Gret told them. She was in on it the whole time.

Schindel's suspicion was aroused at the sight of Gret's yellow-and-green attire that one day. Gret's always made a point of being immaculately dressed, almost always in matching colors--so for her to wear a yellow dress with green ribbons was odd. Schindel couldn't place what it reminded him of, but Diamant, whom the message was intended for, got it immediately: He and Gret had been making eye contact each time she arrived, and he'd even been able to pass along to her a ring he'd fashioned out of found scraps. When she showed up wearing the same colors as his identification badge, it signaled she was willing to communicate with him. From there, the two managed to plot to meet privately on camp grounds to make a plan for Diamant's escape; Gret was invited along. Diamant instructed her to find a way to get him in close contact with Dannecker; Gret came up with the idea to ask for a ring, knowing her stepfather could never refuse her a gift. Diamant told her to procure him a gun, preferably a revolver, and hide it near his workspace; he'd tell her the day and time to be at Dannecker's office to cover for him in case anyone heard the shot. The final day, while Dannecker was admiring the ring Diamant presented to him, Diamant brought out the gun Gret had left for him and played Russian roulette on Dannecker until it fired; Gret, out in the hallway, prevented the guard who came running from entering, claiming she'd accidentally fired Dannecker's gun and he'd sent her out before locking himself in--he was angry, best not disturb him. (The guard didn't even think twice before retreating.) She then entered herself, saw that Diamant had finished the job, but refused to go get the other prisoners waiting at a side entrance to the building and take them to the hidden passage until Diamant fetched her a trophy: her stepfather's Ehrendegen. The two were racing to get the other prisoners and let them inside when Schindel had spotted them. Gret was never a hostage at all, but a willing participant in her stepfather's murder, and she even got a souvenir out of the deal.

The SS don't find out about the secret passage until much later, though they do soon realize Gret Dannecker isn't the victim they thought she was. Quietly, they change out the posters describing her as such and replace them with wanted posters like those for Diamant and the other prisoners, with one additional detail: Execute on sight. Diamant, as horrible as his actions were, is just a Jew, and a criminal at that--he's expected to act like a criminal. Gret's actions, however--not only patricide, but betraying her race--are unforgivable.

Although this means the end of Dannecker, who, despite never beating or technically punishing Schindel, terrorized and demoralized him in every other way possible, Schindel is even more afraid now, not less. He agonizes over not following Diamant away from the camp, but the fear of what's on the outside, ironically, is worse than the fear of what's inside--the devil you know and all that. He's used to the routine of camp life, and the unknown terrifies him--yes, his main goal in staying alive is to reunite with his family, but he doesn't even know if they're still alive. And now there's a new commandant to deal with--and Schindel knows nothing about him. Commandant Reinhardt is big, imposing, with a frequent glare or scowl on his face; he seems quite displeased with the chaotic way Dannecker was running his camp. He vows, from day one, that there will be changes. Although he was gruff yet tolerable toward Schindel when he first arrived, Schindel dreads whatever might come next--change is never good, and he feels even more spite toward Diamant for triggering this situation. As the days pass and Reinhardt starts implementing his changes, however, Schindel's fear shifts into confusion. Supplies are brought in and the prisoners renovate their barracks; there's somewhat more food at their meals; and their jobs are gradually switched out. Previous labor had consisted of useless breaking of rocks, digging of holes, filling them in again--working for the sake of working oneself to death. These new jobs, some of them are about as strenuous, but they serve a purpose now, aiding in construction and the manufacture of goods; plus, smaller and more skilled jobs are added, and given to those who previously would have been sent to the firing squad. Far fewer prisoners are sent left at selections (eventually they're sent to other camps instead), and the crematorium stops running for weeks on end. Schindel is never ordered to beat anyone; when the other guards attempt to beat prisoners, Delbrück, now named Reinhardt's adjutant, puts a stop to it. Sure, there's still a swat or a cuffing here and there, but nothing like before. A few of the guards quit in protest, a few officials show up to complain, but the rest of the camp settles into its new routine.

Reinhardt has Schindel brought to his office. Dannecker's similar requests--especially the visit with Diamant--were never good news, so Schindel braces for the worst. He takes off his cap and stands before Reinhardt's desk with his head lowered, shaking a little. Reinhardt stands up--he's a lot taller than Schindel, and towers over him. First he asks Schindel's name again (a sort of running joke is he can never remember Schindel's name for a while)...then, oddly, starts asking him about how Dannecker formerly did things, since he's been told Schindel likely knew him best. He seems displeased by most of the answers, and mutters a few times, "Well, that's going to change." He finally says he'd like Schindel to help him out with various personal tasks. While true that Dannecker had had Schindel run a few personal errands for him, it wasn't a regular thing, and this really isn't the sort of thing a kapo is meant to do; Schindel is confused by the request. He doesn't ask questions, though, just ducks his head a bit lower and mumbles, "Ja, Herr Kommandant," when appropriate. Reinhardt comes around the desk to see him off, but does something extremely odd--he takes Schindel's cap from his hands and puts it back on his head before sending him out. The inmates NEVER keep their caps on when directly addressing the SS--it's a huge breach of camp "etiquette" and often rewarded with beatings. So Reinhardt's casual gesture is very strange, and Schindel doesn't know what to think of it.

Reinhardt does indeed assign various mundane tasks to Schindel; the way the camp is running now, his actions intimidating the other prisoners aren't needed quite as much, freeing him up to run errands in the administration building. He again frequently comes into contact with his old acquaintance Delbrück, who still shares cigarettes with him now and then, and then with new employee SS-Helfer Britta Azinger, who comes to the camp to work as secretary (Schindel is the one to first find out when she and Reinhardt get romantically involved). Just as with Dannecker, he's loyal to Reinhardt, but the loyalty gradually takes on a different form: He starts to think of Reinhardt as literally saving his life and grows fawningly devoted to him, trailing after him, hanging on his every request, eager for his every "Danke, Herr Schindel." Reinhardt treats him human--like a favored slave or servant, yes, but still human--and he's grown so unused to that that he gladly takes every bit of it that he can. It's by no means an egalitarian relationship, but Schindel was so badly broken by Dannecker that in comparison, he would follow Reinhardt to the ends of the earth.

This ends up happening, in a way, when the Allies storm the city and approach the camp. Reinhardt knows that no matter how he tried to improve the situation, he'll still most likely be executed as a war criminal; after sustaining a serious wound, he returns to the camp (many of the guards and other staff, including Delbrück and Azinger, have already fled), announces over the loudspeaker that he's turning off the fence and opening the gate, advises those who are well enough to leave the camp (also warning them of SS officers patrolling the city) while those who aren't will be attended to by the enemy soldiers when they arrive, then sits and waits. Schindel listens to the message over the loudspeakers, then stands aside and watches many of the prisoners mill around aimlessly for a moment, nonplussed--they can't quite believe what they just heard. They hear the ever-present hum of the fence stop, but have no way to test if it's actually off; yet then the metal gate under the ARBEIT MACHT FREI sign pops open. The first few prisoners gingerly approach--there are no guards left in the watchtowers or at the gate to shoot them--and peer out. Slowly step outside. Start walking away, then jogging, then sprinting. As soon as it becomes clear nobody, including Schindel, will stop them, more and more of them exit the camp, hurrying for cover. A handful stay behind, due to illness/injury or fear of the SS officers still in the city; Schindel is among them, though his reason for staying is different. He knows Reinhardt is still there, probably alone. He hurries inside to find him.

He at last locates the room containing the controls for the electricity supply; here Reinhardt is, slumped on the floor and bleeding. He's surprised by Schindel's arrival and wonders why he hasn't left; Schindel, while trying to tend to his wound, stammers that he isn't even sure if Rebekkah and his child are still alive or not. He's literally too afraid to leave, as he's gotten so used to being a prisoner and having his life laid out for him, he has no idea how to deal with the uncertainties of freedom. When Reinhardt passes out, Schindel stays by him, pressing his cap against the wound and trying not to cry. Soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms, speaking an unfamiliar language, arrive and point their guns at the two--Reinhardt wakes at the commotion--and start yelling; Schindel holds up his hands but can't understand a word they're saying, and he nearly panics. Reinhardt speaks their language, and Schindel starts picking up bits and pieces: These are Americans (the Germans had been expecting--and dreading--the approach of the Soviets, instead), and they want to know their names, ranks, and numbers. Reinhardt offers his information, but the Americans don't believe him or Schindel when they both insist Schindel is merely the kapo--they can't understand why a prisoner would stay behind to help an SS officer. Surely he's an SS member in disguise. Reinhardt does everything he can to vouch for him, including saying to Schindel, "Show them your arms, bitte," and the soldiers take note of Schindel's ID number, as well as his lack of a blood group tattoo. A soldier heads off to fetch the log of prisoner IDs that includes Schindel's information while the others decide to take both men into custody. Schindel tries to stay by Reinhardt as the soldiers unceremoniously drag him to his feet and haul him off--he manages to reach out and shove Schindel's bloodied cap back onto his head before his arms are seized--but shortly after, Schindel is forcibly separated from him and taken away for medical attention elsewhere. The soldier returns with the info that yes, "Isaak Schindel" is listed in the camp records as the Lagerälteste, and his ID number and photo match. They still can't figure out what he was doing with Reinhardt, but obviously he's not SS. They ignore most of his pleas for information on "Herr Kommandant" and make arrangements to question him for information and then figure out what to do with him as both a former prisoner yet also a collaborator. He does learn, eventually, that Reinhardt has been arrested and will stand trial after questioning--he'll almost certainly be hanged or shot. The Americans frown pensively when Schindel breaks down crying.

Everything after is a confusing whirlwind. Schindel provides what information he can under questioning, but it's limited, and the Allies are frustrated by his frequent pleas for updates on Reinhardt's situation. He tells them of Rebekkah, but doesn't know where she is or if she's alive; same with extended family, for all he knows they were sent to other camps to be killed. The Allies decide to keep him in protective custody for the time being. He learns after some time that Reinhardt also provided useful information--including how Diamant most likely escaped from the camp undetected, through the hidden passageway--and that a military tribunal indeed found him guilty, yet sentenced him to prison, rather than execution; Schindel is overwhelmed with relief. Then, more news: They've managed to locate Rebekkah, alive and well...with their young daughter, Hanna. Schindel puts his hands to his face--"I have a daughter"--and bursts into tears again. He's finally released from Allied custody--they decide not to bring charges against him--and he goes to see Rebekkah for the first time in years.

This is the moment he's been literally living for and dreading. Rebekkah has moved into a tiny house in a new, crowded neighborhood set up at the edge of the city. Schindel arrives and nervously knocks--she's been informed ahead of time to expect him, and answers, holding a little girl in her arms. Schindel can barely keep himself from crying again when he sees her; Rebekkah introduces Hanna to "Herr Isaak," then sets her down and tells her to give them a few moments alone. Husband and wife share a few halting, awkward comments, asking how each other is doing, what they've been up to, nothing too indepth. Schindel is overjoyed to see his Rebekkah again, but he immediately senses something is off; Rebekkah doesn't seem nearly as happy as he'd thought she'd be. When he finally asks if something is wrong, and why isn't she inviting him in, Rebekkah averts her eyes and murmurs, "I think...maybe it would be best if you found someplace else to stay." Schindel is stunned mute for a moment; Rebekkah haltingly explains. She's heard by now of what, exactly, Schindel's position was in the camp: a kapo, a collaborator with the Nazi guards. To the Jews, the kapos have become perhaps even more despised than the Nazis themselves, as sellouts and traitors to their own people--the very word kapo has become a terrible insult. Schindel isn't seen as a victim like the other camp inmates--he's seen as one of them. Schindel stammers in protest--he didn't WANT to do the things he did, he did it only to survive so he could come back to her, he was only following orders. Rebekkah winces and says, "That's exactly what THEY said." She adds that his presence there could endanger her and Hanna's lives, so he should find another place to go for now. Almost at a loss for words, Schindel asks if he can at least hug Hanna and tell her goodbye--he's never had the chance to even touch his own child. Rebekkah replies this would be too confusing and upsetting--she's already told Hanna her father died in the camps--and wishes Schindel farewell, retreating inside and closing the door. Schindel stands staring at the door for a moment before turning and silently leaving, his world collapsed, his heart broken. He fought so hard all those years to stay alive, all for nothing.

He holds on for a brief while, trying desperately to find a connection, any connection, to his former life. Nobody he once knew wants anything to do with him. It's like he's cursed, and his mere presence taints things; everyone avoids him. None of his old relatives, friends, acquaintances from the ghetto will take him in or give him work or even stop for a brief conversation. He has no one, but really, it's only Rebekkah and Hanna he wants--he could do without anything else. The fact that his wife and child are lost to him after all at last hits him like a truck and he sits alone in a park one evening sobbing his eyes out. He sees no point in continuing without them. He lifts his head and looks around, sniffling and rubbing his eyes; he has no drug, he has no gun, but there, leading out of the park and over a river, is a tall bridge. Schindel can't swim. The longer he stares at the bridge the more his resolve grows; seeing a way out of the pain, he finally gets up and heads toward it. By the time he reaches the middle of it he's as determined as ever, yet as soon as he finds himself on the other side of the guardrail, leaning over the river far below, that determination wavers. He stands there for a few moments to gather his courage, annoyed that it's fled him when he needs it most.

He's even more annoyed when he hears a voice--somebody is standing behind and below him on the formerly empty bridge.

Voice: (hesitant) "Hallo, mein Freund, what are you doing up there...?"

Schindel: "Go away."

Voice: "You'd like to talk...? Maybe?"

Schindel: "I said go away!"

Voice: "I can't do that, mein Freund, not while you're standing up there like that; think you can come down for a minute and talk...?"

Schindel: "I'm not your friend and I don't want to talk! Now leave me alone!"

Voice: "Not a nice thing to say to your friend. If you don't want to talk then maybe we could share a smoke instead, ja...?"

Confused, Schindel finally turns his head. The man standing below him is dressed in civilian clothes and Schindel doesn't recognize him; he removes his cap, however, and then realization dawns. It's Jan Delbrück, the SS guard--then adjutant--who used to share cigarettes with him, and vouched for him when Franke accused him of being involved in Dannecker's murder. "H...Herr Delbrück?" he says anyway, perplexed; Delbrück had disappeared shortly before the camp was liberated. "Lehmbruck," Delbrück says, confusing him further; then, "Bruno Lehmbruck, now," and it makes sense--he's obviously assumed a new identity while in hiding. He makes a few more efforts to coax Schindel down; Schindel can't help it, against his own wishes he starts stammering out why he's up there. He refuses to descend, however, until Delbrück changes tack, asking him to tell him about his wife and daughter instead; finally, reluctantly, he climbs back over the rail, freezing briefly so Delbrück has to climb up and help him back down. Delbrück leads him back to the park and sits him down, offering a cigarette before taking one for himself; they smoke together for a while, like old times, and Schindel tells him about Rebekkah and Hanna. It's a very long, slow process, but Delbrück convinces him it's worth holding on at least a little longer, to see what might happen; he points out how he's still alive, and despite the way the war ended, he managed to find someone who helped him through. Maybe Schindel will find this person, even if it isn't Rebekkah.

Schindel hates the thought that he may have to go on without Rebekkah--they've known and loved each other since childhood--but decides to try to find whatever other connection he can. There's one he knows of already; he visits an old castle which has recently been converted into a prison for war criminals. Here is where Hasso Reinhardt is being kept, following his trial; he's been sentenced to around ten years, after making himself useful providing information to the Allies. Reinhardt is glad to see him, yet saddened to learn of the situation with his wife; he offers advice similar to Delbrück's, as well as the thought that Schindel may try to make amends to those he feels he's wronged. Schindel mulls this over even as he manages to find a job in a print shop (his boss, learning he's been sleeping in the park, offers him a cot in the back room until he can get on his feet); he finally decides to go looking around the city.

On one street, a sort of "memorial" has been left: an old jeweler's shop whose windows were broken out and insides torched, the words "DER JUWELIER" crossed out and replaced with "DER JUDE." Also on the remaining portion of window is the name "J. DIAMANT." The Nazis left the gutted shop standing as a warning following Diamant's capture; after their defeat, the citizens leave it alone as well, though they put a fence around the front to keep out potential vandals. Schindel visits the shop next door; the proprietor, Jutta Bentz, confirms Diamant used to own the shop, and is still alive; word is he started a new shop in a mountain town. Schindel heads there, finds the shop. Within, he's surprised to meet Margarethe Dannecker; she recognizes him also, tells him, "I'm glad you're doing well, Herr Schindel," and retreats to fetch Diamant. Diamant is even more surprised than Schindel was, and seems uncomfortable as well, yet invites Schindel to join him for tea when Schindel has difficulty saying why he's there; Schindel declines but at last haltingly apologizes for the way he treated Diamant while he was kapo. As he speaks, Diamant looks more and more confused, and finally cuts in to say, "I'm not sure why you're apologizing to me, Herr Schindel; if anything I feel I should apologize to you." Schindel is perplexed to learn that Diamant feels just as guilty as he does, especially regarding the humiliating situation Dannecker forced them into, and doesn't even blame Schindel for beating him afterward. To hear the same issues he's agonizing over coming from his former foe's mouth puts things in a bit more perspective; Diamant says he owes him no apology, and Schindel departs, his heart feeling at least a little less heavy.

A week or so later, while Schindel is busy typesetting, his boss informs him he has a visitor, and to take his lunch to talk to them. He's stunned to find Rebekkah waiting for him. The two talk a little, awkward and shy, before she says, "I miss you," and invites him to stop by that evening for supper: "And...maybe you could stay, if you like." She doesn't mention that Diamant had visited, explained a little bit how difficult Schindel's position in the camp had been and he'd done it all for her--he doesn't blame Schindel for what he did, perhaps she should give him another chance. Of course Schindel agrees. He meets Hanna when he arrives, and has to force himself to hold back his tears, though when Rebekkah leaves the room for a moment, Hanna slips off her chair, trots over to Schindel, and hugs him; surprised but overwhelmed, he hugs her back. Rebekkah, coming back in the room, admits that she's since told Hanna the truth about who he is; she hopes they can start over. Schindel wipes the tears away from his eyes and murmurs, "I'd love nothing more."

[Isaak Schindel 2023 [‎Friday, ‎January ‎27, ‎2023, ‏‎5:00:16 AM]]

[Isaak Schindel 2023 2 [‎Friday, ‎January ‎27, ‎2023, ‏‎5:00:26 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #original characters

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 7

Part 1 Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

What?

What had you just said?

Bakugou looked up, wide eyed, to stare at his alpha. His beautiful Y/N. The hand in his pocket gripped a small jewelry box tightly. He hadn’t been paying full attention, instead he had been in his own head, practicing over and over what he was going to say. But then you had said… He couldn’t have heard right.

“What’d you say?” He whispers gruffly.

Bakugou watched intently. You were staring up at the sky, though it didn’t feel like you were actually seeing the fireworks as they boomed and flashed.

“I… It’s time for us to break up, Katsu. You know it, I know it. This…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, still not looking at him. “This hasn’t worked in a while. A long while. Years, if we’re honest.”

That… That wasn’t true! Why were you saying that? Bakugou stared at you, shocked. His eyes raked over you, and for the first time that evening, he actually paid attention. You… You didn’t look good. Your outfit was beautiful, and your hair was perfect. But now he noticed the slump to your posture, and the way your shoulders were tense and hunched. How long had those dark circles been under your eyes? Bakugou startled as he realized that whatever was bugging you clearly wasn’t just a today problem. Something had been going on for a very long time and he hadn’t noticed. How had he not noticed? He moved to inch closer to touch you, to hold and comfort his alpha. You held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“It’s alright. I know. I’m sorry I’m saying this today, that wasn’t what I had planned. But there wasn’t a good time before, and you were clearly so miserable tonight…” You blew a heavy breath out, glancing at the omega before looking away. “It’s time. Probably long overdue.”

Bakugou made a strangled little sound in the back of his throat as he stared, wide eyed. What was happening? This couldn’t be real. You were his alpha. His Y/N. Maybe… Maybe if he was honest with himself, things hadn’t been great when he had started out at being a pro hero, but that was over now. It was okay now. Things had calmed down. You were meant to be together! Katsuki took a step, reaching for you again. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

You took a step back, away from him. “It’s over, Katsuki. It’s over and that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It would never be okay!

“I know things might be awkward around the apartment,” you continued, “but it’s only for a little while. I’ve been offered a job, and I’ve taken it. I’ll be moving in a month. I’ll try to stay out of your hair until then.”

Bakugou’s mind screamed. He was frozen, his mind refusing to process what was going on. You were leaving? Leaving him in every single way? Where were you going and leaving him behind? When had you planned all this? What had happened for him not to notice his alpha was slipping away from him? Katsuki whined quietly. You winced and looked away.

“I’m sorry for saying this all tonight, but it needed to be said. I’m sorry.” You glanced his way, giving him a watery smile. “Goodbye, Katsu. I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that you turned and walked away, your pace increasing until you had broken out into a run. Katsuki remained where he was, sinking down until he was kneeling on the peer. He stared after you until he couldn’t see you any more. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t… He pulled the small velvet box from his pocket and opened it with shaking hands. There was the ring he had picked out, just for you. From the light of fireworks that still flashed overhead he could just barely make out the inscription that he had asked for. “Forever.” Bakugou bit into his fist to muffle his howls of anguish.

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

It was strange, packing up. So many artifacts of your life that you have walked by and lived with every day without paying attention to you were forced to hold and consider. Take, toss, or give away. Some stuff was easy choices. You had packed your books up, and sorted through your clothing to figure out what you were going to take with you. But some things were harder than they should be. Like this. You held the unopened toothbrush package in your hands, turning it over and over. You had bought it years ago, when you had just moved it. It was for Katsuki if he ever stayed the night. And here it was, still unopened. It would be a waste to throw it away, unused. But you couldn’t stand to take it with you. You threw it into the give away box with an aggravated sigh. You had known this was going to be difficult, but it was even worse than you had anticipated. So many things in your living space reminded you of the blond that you were leaving behind. The little orange knick knacks you bought because they reminded you of him. The first edition runs of his very first hero merch. The dusty omega nesting kit that was hidden in the back of your closet. There were so many artifacts of your former plans and dreams, and each one hurt in a new way. The smell didn’t help.

You were certain you were imagining it, but lately it seemed like your apartment always smelled faintly of burnt caramel. It was a major reason you stayed away whenever you weren’t packing. It made you feel guilty, even though you were certain you were doing the right thing. He didn’t need you clinging on to him. He didn’t want you hanging on, and he had made that clear time and time again. And now? Now you had to figure out how to live in a world where Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t your sun and moon. You’d figure it out. Somehow. If you could just get that damned smell of caramel out of your nose.

You threw half empty containers of food and spices into the trash with more force than necessary. Maybe if you got rid of the food you had laying around the food smells would go away. You still had three weeks until you’d be moving, but there was enough savings in your account that you could eat out and live on the basics until you were settled in your new place. Or you supposed you could cook at Denki’s. You had offered to help him pack since his schedule was busier than yours. He was going to put in his transfer notice any day now.

You stilled and stared out the window without really looking at anything as you became lost in thought. It was something you hadn’t really processed before. The first time you were going to be moving in with someone, and it was going to be Denki. And it was going to stay Denki for the rest of your lives, or that was the plan at least. It was strange to think about. You could picture it though. Picture Denki and his grin. Imagine chaotic nights with Mario Kart and junk food. A slight blush tinted your cheeks at how easy it was to imagine what your future kids could look like. It wouldn’t be a bad life. It would take time. But you think the two of you could make it good. The friendship was there, and strong. Maybe, with each other's help, you could both let go. Heal. Maybe even come to truly love each other with time.

You glanced at the clock. It was almost time for you to go to work. You planned on giving them a couple more weeks. There honestly wasn’t much to do this time of year, but it got you out of the apartment, and that was something you really needed right now. You glanced around, deciding to leave your sorting as it was for now. In just a couple minutes, you were out of the apartment and on your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes after noon. You should be gone by now. Bakugou had listened, pressing his ear to his door. He cursed the building’s soundproofing when he couldn’t hear anything. He was desperate for any sign of you. But he didn’t quite dare confront you. How could he face you? In the span of an evening you had turned his entire world on its head. He had thought you were good. That the two of you had been as solid in your relationship as you had been when it had all started. But then you had said…

You had…

You were…

A whine creeped out of his throat.

The past week hadn’t felt like reality. He’d gone to work on autopilot, focusing on the job in a way that didn’t allow him to think of anything else. His friends hadn’t started asking questions yet, thanks to how busy work had been. Bakugou never thought he’d be grateful for an increase in villain activity, yet here he was. But when his shift was over and he had to go home, that was when your words replayed for him over and over again. He spent hours curled in his nest, barely leaving. He still ate, drank, shuffled to the bathroom. He cared for himself enough that he could still go to work without anybody questioning too much. The only other thing he spent any time doing, he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he couldn’t stop himself. Here he was, going to do so again for the fourth day in a row.

Bakugou crept out of his own apartment. He knew you were long gone from the building, but his guilty conscience kept him moving quickly and quietly until he reached his goal.

Unlocking your apartment was easy. He wondered if you had forgotten you had given him a key when you had first moved in. Maybe you thought he had forgotten or hadn’t cared. Bakugou used to think he understood you pretty well. He wasn’t so sure anymore. He crept in, glancing around. More of your things were gone.

Bakugou whined quietly as he walked further into your apartment. The air stank of burnt and bitter chocolate. If you were so upset you smelled like this, how had he not noticed? He began carefully sifting through the piles that appeared to be for donating. He grabbed a couple old shirts that smelled strongly of you. He tried not to let it hurt when he noticed one of the shirts was an old tshirt you had stolen from him years ago. He knelt on the floor just staring for some time. This was real. You had broken up with him. And now you were getting rid of your memories together and were going to leave. He might never get to see you again. Might never smell your scent again. Or worse, see you with someone else. Smell someone else’s scent on your skin.

Katsuki didn’t fight his tears as he grabbed as many things as he thought he could get away with without it being noticed. In minutes he was back in his apartment, desperately tucking everything into his nest. The smell might last him a while, but not forever. He curled up tightly, pressing his nose into a place where your scent was strong. He couldn’t do this forever. He didn’t know what he could do. As much as he hated to admit it, it was time to ask for help.

And that is all for this time, my darlings! More is in the works and hopefully will get to you much sooner than this part did. Katsuki is starting to pull his head out of his ass, hopefully it's a trend that will continue. TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, l@ucypevensie11, @idk-sam, @katsuki-cait, @weirdestlove, @sasa-slayer, @anime-for-live, @kaidousimp, @bluesdustyflames, @vitheria, @milktea0208, @maristaymulti, @whatdidshesayyy, @memesbyeloise , @fandomsgotmefucked, @killmehe, @shy-panda02 , @skylan666, @missmolliemoo, @misssugarless, @arcticsakura, @queenondeezmatatas, @lordmypantsaresocool, @bluesdustyflames, @am-198, @hornelittleweeblet2, @joonie-centric

Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement #part 7

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flamingo-writes · 3 years

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It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami kento imagines #nanami x reader #nanami angst #server collab

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outofangband · 3 years

Text

Masterlist/Explanation of the Dark Arafinwë verse

Other masterlists

Maedhros is attending a formal event near Alqualondë and is accosted by another elf. Unable to wrangle the truth from the ages of pre-existing biases and feuds, Teleri wardens arrest both the accoster and Maedhros who finds himself fighting against his own memories. When, to his very great surprise, Arafinwë himself intervenes on his behalf, Maedhros is brought back to the palace to be kept under supervision until the matter is investigated. (More details at the end notes)

CW: forced stripping (non sexual), abuse of power, callous disregard of past trauma/exploiting trauma responses, dissociation, gaslighting

Edit: I’ve had some people tell me that the gaslighting in this story is very difficult to read so I wanted to give an extra warning for that element

Tag list: @iwenttomordor @elarinya-nailo @mozart-the-meerkitten @tears-and-lilies @much-ado-about-whumping

“Strip.”

There was no malice in the command, simply an almost weary calm. Nelyafinwë was aware of his own eyes widening just as a sense of unreality came over him. The soft warmth of the evening felt suddenly oppressive and the clean and comfortable room he had been lead into twisted and distorted. He took a step backwards and his half uncle raised an eyebrow.

“I know you carry weapons upon thy person, Russandol. For rather obvious reasons I cannot allow you to keep them.”

The room did not come back into focus but Maitimo gave a small sigh, apprehension as much as relief. He raised one booted foot and undid the laces, pulling out a small blade and handing it over to Arafinwë who pocketed it with a small nod of acknowledgment. Maitimo then undid the other boot to show there was nothing in it.

Arafinwë looked impassively at the other elf, fingers pressed together at his chest.

“It would not be very prudent to simply take thy word, Russandol. Remove the rest, I will give you something to wear.” Maedhros’s gaze traveled to his face, his own expression of startled disbelief. He waited for a few moments for Arafinwë to leave or turn away. Arafinwë does not.

Maitimo swallowed, aware of the tingling, almost trembling in his arms or legs. He started on the buttons on his tunic so it fell into two sides, revealing the scars on his chest. Including the numerous iterations of kinslayer carved or tattooed into his flesh. He winced as he thought about this, not wishing to force Arafinwë to view another reminder of what had happened here so many years ago.

But he handed the tunic over over. Arafinwë set it and his boots on the bed, more of an examination table than for rest. He gestures for Maitimo to continue when the Noldor prince pauses again. Next come the trousers, slightly scuffed from the altercation that had landed him here in the first place. The heat rises to his ears and he can no longer maintain any sort of eye contact, directing his gaze to the floor instead.

Maitimo procrastinates pulling off his leggings until Arafinwë makes a soft sound of impatience, jarring him back to the present. The present where he is standing almost completely naked in front of the king of the Noldor in Valinor.

“I was there when Angamando fell and I have worked as a healer. I know you are scarred. Please remove the rest.”

Maitimo hands over the last of his clothes and finally Arafinwë looks away from him, gathering up his leggings, tunic, trousers and boots along with his jewelry.

“Stay here, Russandol. I will bring these to my guard to examine.” He starts towards the door.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Maitimo sees that the beaded bracelet Rôg had crafted for him is visible in the pocket of his trousers. He longs to hold it, to rub the smooth stone between his fingers as he does when the memories of the past intrude so vividly into the present.

“Lord Arafinwë?” He starts to say but the look on his half uncle’s face, that same impassive, cool interest, prevents any more words from leaving him and he merely shakes his head and waits as the other leaves.

...

Arafinwë returns nearly half of an hour later and Maitimo has not dared to move, even to try and cover himself. Loathe as he is to admit it to himself, any scolding or reprimand he might receive is likely worse than the shame of being so exposed. The door is closed, perhaps it was locked.

The king moves past him to take up his previous position. His expression has not changed.

“I am afraid you will have to be restrained for the night, Russandol. I do not have guards to spare.” Maedhros looks up at him, his heartrate spiking again.

“I do not need to be restrained, My Lord” he says slowly, carefully, “I am hardly going to attack you nor anyone else, naked and with no weapon.”

Arafinwë studies him. “I have absolutely no idea whether or not you will attack another should you become frightened or angry. I cannot afford the possibility that you enter such a state and harm someone. Lay down,” he gestures to the narrow bed before continuing, “This is a process that would typically be done by our wardens. Are you not grateful you are not suffering this under the hands of strangers?”

Maitimo was more acutely aware than ever of his nakedness as he took the few steps forward and lay down on his stomach. He hears rather than sees Arafinwë come to his right side, using a strap made of a soft leather to fasten his hands down. He urges himself silently to breathe through his nose, to remain calm. By the time his ankles were also strapped down, he had to actively count his breaths to keep them steady.

“Open your mouth.” This next command is spoken as calmly, coolly as the others, it is only Maitimo who is experiencing the dizzying panic. He doesn’t obey this time. Arafinwë approaches him again, kneeling beside his head and holding out what seem to be more of the leather straps.

“Your teeth are a weapon, Russandol,” now there is something like sarcasm, mocking in the king’s voice, Maitimo is sure of it.

(Is he sure?)

“You can hardly be surprised that you are not trusted here. Do you not understand I have made this process significantly better for you? Open your mouth. This will not hurt you and it is only until the morrow.”

Maedhros tastes cleaned leather as something is forced into his mouth, preventing him from moving his tongue. More straps are fixed around his head. Arafinwë is careful to keep his hair out of the way of them so it does not become caught or tangled. But the parts that press against his face irritate the old scars made when less considerate hands strapped similar devices over him.

Finally, Arafinwë takes a step back. Maedhros’s shallow breathing is softened slightly by the piece in his mouth.

“Good. Get some rest, Russandol. I will check on you in the morning.”

To be continued

Author’s note: This type of gaslighting used both implicitly and explicitly throughout here, the “no, of course there’s nothing sinister about me doing these things, that’s just how you’re interpreting them because of Angband and it’s really offensive of you to compare me to the Dark Lord” is incredibly insidious and makes me really angry! Unfortunately it will only get worse from here.

Author’s note: Maedhros was caught off guard here and his shock as well as his guilt is used to manipulate him into thinking this is legitimate procedure however he soon starts to understand more how dangerous Arafinwë and please know that he becomes an absolute nightmare to hold hostage. Or well he’s not currently a hostage but he’s soon to be

There is more about why Ara is doing this linked in the AU masterlist and more will become known as the story progresses!

More backstory here:

Maedhros is attending a formal event near Alqualondë and is accosted by another elf. Unable to wrangle the truth from the ages of pre-existing biases and feuds, Teleri soldiers arrest both the accoster and Maedhros who finds himself fighting against unpleasant memories of being confined and restrained. He’s alone in his cell, trying not to flinch whenever a guard comes by and alternating rapidly between the instinct to fight and scream and lash out and the instinct to hide and be subdued. He sees the guards stop and bow and he stands and walks to the door and sees Arafinwë. To his astonishment, he’s told that Arafinwë has agreed to have him released into his custody. He can’t leave the city for a few days, at least not until the matter gets sorted out. Maedhros starts to refuse just on instinct, saying it’s not necessary, etc. Arafinwë looks loftily at him.

“Do not speak foolishness, Russandol. Come with me.” And the guards unlock the door and nod to him and he can’t exactly insist on staying in prison especially because he is actually innocent in this encounter so he agrees reluctantly and follows Arafinwë to his carriage.

#the silmarillion #maedhros #finarfin #Arafinwë #splinters like jewel shards #short writings #saved

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imaginethatneathuh · 3 years

Text

Death: Mr World - American Gods

Mr World x gn!reader, ex and abusive relationship

You ran from Mr World and he wants you back.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop. Some parts were edited by her, too.

Requested by Anon - Hi! I just found the Tarot Card thing and I was wondering if you could do Death for Mr. World ...

TW/CW: Car accident, abuse, domestic abuse, fear, PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, dehydration, hunger.

Word count: 12.5+ K

This was very triggering, that's why it took so long for me.

•

Hands stuffed in pockets, you walked down the concrete sidewalk. Pulled up, the hood of your dark hoodie obscured you from view. It was only a small comfort knowing that it was more difficult for something like a camera to pick up on your face.

A street light flickered above you as you passed by.

Remembering the effects the New Gods could have on technology, you turned around, looking for one of those weird “boxes'' they used. But the street lights all stayed on and none of the boxes materialized.

Stopping for a few moments more, you looked around just in case someone was there and you just couldn’t see them. You mentally cursed the loud chirping of the crickets. Even if someone was there --- you weren’t sure if there was or wasn’t --- you wouldn’t be able to hear them over them.

Finally, with one last look, you turned back to your back and continued down it.

As you approached the small apartment complex, you searched for lights in the windows. Occasionally, a neighbour or two would stay up until the wee hours of the morn. Tonight though, everyone seemed to have gone to bed except for you.

Carefully, you climbed the stairs to your flat. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the cold breeze passed by.

As you got to your floor, you looked down and around. It wasn’t a quick one look-see and done kinda deal. You analyzed everything, half expecting someone to jump out or come around the corner. Everything from the flicker of the old wall lamp, to the shaking trees, and the swarming insects around light was scrutinized.

Despite the months of being away from him, he was always in the back of your mind. You knew, despite being miles away from where he had you last, he could find you and bring you back under his thumb. He was more powerful than you ever imagined. He had eyes and ears everywhere. Here, even with no security cameras and out in the middle of nowhere, you knew he could still get to you. The trees may be plentiful and the people few and far between, but he still had power

No one jumped out, so you went to the door with your heart pounding in your chest.

Still scanning the hall, you patted yourself down in search of your keys. You couldn’t tear your eyes away just in case someone unwelcomed showed up.

You fumbled for your keys, too fearful of the unknown to search for them properly. The thought of someone or something popping out of nowhere took all your attention, the fear forcing you to scan the hall again and again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw something in the shadows.

Whipping your head around to get a better look, your eyes widened as if they were trying to soak in as much of the area as possible. The possibility of your ex or his lackeys being right around the corner froze you in place. One of your hands gripped your keys while the other stayed tensed on the doorknob of your flat.

Quietly, you breathed and tried to calm yourself, but kept your eyes wide open. As you concentrate on your breathing, knuckles paling, your shaky, uneven breaths become even again.

It was just your imagination, your mind playing tricks on you. That was all. No one was there. No one at all. You were safe. He couldn’t get you here.

Eyes still glued to the shadows, you yank open the door and rush inside, slamming the door shut. Once inside, You pressed your body against the door, just in case someone tried to push it open, and deadbolted it as fast as you could manage without looking at the locks. The shadows did not move as you stared at them through the peephole on the door.

Stepping away, you take a few gasping breaths, shoulders and jaw tensed. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Every time you left the flat there was a risk that your ex would find you. Any reasonable, sensible person who knew your ex would tell you leaving your flat was a stupid idea, that there was too much of a risk in leaving. But, you couldn’t stay inside all the time just because he terrified you. You had to live your life, not live in fear. There had been far too much of that.

You looked around the small flat and moved toward the windows, unlocking and relocking the windows.

Placing a hand over your heart, you breathed deeply in and out. You’d found it to be the best way to calm yourself over the past few months. Now, within the safety of your home, you could relax.

Turning, you found your way to the sofa and fell upon it.

The flat’s door stood opposite of you and you stared at it, expecting someone to start banging or barging in at any moment.

A backpack filled with your things lay next to the sofa. Not much was in it. Just some clothes, toothbrush and paste, and other such necessities. No unnecessary items.

The fridge sat mostly empty and the bedroom lay unbothered as if no one had entered it since the last tenant, and even the bathroom had little in it, just a bar of soap that hadn’t fully dried yet and its bag. The flat had barely been lived in. Hopefully, you’d soon have the courage to change that.

After many hours of paranoia, you fell into a restless, fitful, nightmare-fueled slumber. Even as you dreamt, he did not let you be.

•

A loud knocking woke you from a nightmare you couldn’t remember after you got up from the sofa.

At that moment, as you walked over to the door still dressed from the day before, things almost felt normal. It was as if the last 6 years hadn’t happened and you weren’t terrified and paranoid he’d find you.

Every last shred of that feeling dissipated after you looked into the peephole.

There, on the other side, stood two men in black and white suits. Both had an earpiece and sunglasses. They looked straight out of the Men in Black movie you remember watching when you were younger.

Your mother loved that movie. As did you.

Sadly, they were not the Men in Black from the movie. They were a different sort. The men who worked for your ex, Mr World.

Stepping away, you blinked as your heartbeat and fear steadily rose. Your breathing became shaky.

He’d found you.

“Mx L/N, we know you are in there,” one of the men said. “We just want to talk. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Instead of responding, you ran to your sofa and threw the backpack on.

Outside, the two men had a conversation.

Your flat was on the first floor. It would be a quick two-story drop.

Scrambling to the window opposite the kitchenette, you opened it as quietly as you could.

The men knocked again. “Mx L/N, please open the door.”

Remembering the bar of soap in the bathroom, you stepped inside and grabbed it. You slipped the bar into the bag and stuffed it into your pocket.

It seemed completely asinine to grab it, but you didn’t want to leave anything behind. Especially not a brand new bar of soap.

You lifted yourself up the window so you could get out feet first. Going headfirst at any height could lead to serious injury, or, ya know, death.

“Mx L/N?”

You looked back at the door breathing heavily before looking back at the window.

For a moment, you thought about just giving in to him. Letting him keep you locked away and make you live in fear of him for the rest of your life. It would be so much easier. That or just killing yourself.

But you couldn’t do that, not when you had come so far. Not when you had almost enough to get out of the country and never see him again. Not when you could be free of him and the U.S. as a whole.

You didn’t know what had so attracted him to you, but you wished that whatever it was would stop existing.

“Mx L/N, please open up!” The man sounded more urgent now like he knew what you were doing.

Gripping under the window, you pushed yourself out. Instead of letting go immediately, you hung on. You dropped a little so you could get a better grip on the bottom of the windowsill. Swinging side-to-side, you set your sights on a nearby balcony.

Even though the sound of your heartbeat flooded your ears and the fearful doubts filled your mind, you could still hear the shaky, unsure breaths you were breathing. You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, closing your eyes, before swinging to the neighbour’s balcony and letting go.

The balcony was situated over another tenant’s old sofa. They’d put it out a few days ago and had yet to throw it away.

You landed with a forceful thud onto the sofa, even moving it a bit. It didn’t do much but it was better than concrete.

You pushed yourself up and turned, only to find a man in black with his gun out. Looking the other way, his partner came around the corner, his gun also raised.

“Mx L/N, we were given instructions not to hurt you, but we will if we have to,” one of them said.

You looked between them, warily.

They seemed to be twins. Everything down to the last detail was identical. Must have joined together and gotten paired up. Who better to trust in the field than your brother?

There was nothing but woods behind you. If you made a break for it, the best they could do was shoot an arm or leg, maybe a shoulder if they were brave. It’d slow you down and you’d need medical attention, but you’d live if you didn’t bleed out first.

One of the twins put his gun away and slowly approached you. “Please, we just want to talk.”

It was obvious he was trying to get you to trust him, but you wouldn’t fall for that again.

You took off running.

The other twin aimed but his brother chastised him.

•

After running through the woods for a while, you climbed up a tree, out of sight. If the men tried to follow, they, hopefully, wouldn’t look up.

As you fell into the almost bowl-like middle of an old oak, you breathed heavily and tried to relax.

You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone for a while. But it had been months. Months. Why was he still chasing? Was it because you knew what he was? Who he was? He had told you many secrets that he probably wouldn’t want anyone else to find out, usually when he wasn’t who he told all the others he was and was, instead, himself. But, you didn’t want anything to do with him or his world. You wanted a new start, a new life.

You waited in the tree for hours, thinking about him and the new life you’d start somewhere else in the world. Maybe Canada, Scotland, or New Zealand. Someplace like that. Somewhere that wasn’t the U.S.

Slowly, you fell asleep.

•

When you awoke, it was late. The full moon was at its peak and the stars were out bright in the navy sky. They all had much to show the world. But, more importantly, it was light enough for you to leave.

You couldn’t go back to your flat. It was too dangerous. You’d have to just pick a direction and keep moving. Hopefully, you’d find someplace then.

•

You had to admit, this was the first time you’d ever come out to these woods since you’d started renting here. It was definitely pretty.

The brown leaves littered the forest floor, but not in an ugly way. It was rather beautiful. The leaves almost looked like rich, dark soil in the night’s late hour. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew they were leaves by their crunch, you would have thought the forest floor had no grass. The leaves reminded you of a time long past, a time of innocence you no longer possessed.

With a smile, you jumped on a group of leaves making them crunch slightly. It was rather satisfying. Sadly, you knew you had to keep going and playing with the leaves just wasn't an option, so you trekked on.

Despite knowing you had to hurry to find safety, you still allowed yourself to enjoy the moonlight as it gave the forest an almost otherworldly, effervescent glow. Funnily enough, it felt more familiar than the word of concrete and metal you came from. It felt safe and comforting.

Twigs snapped beneath you every once in a while as you walked. You gripped your backpack’s straps tightly, occasionally looking behind you.

A part of you wished for this to be over, to be safe and sound elsewhere. Not awake in the middle of the night, walking through the woods on an empty stomach.

While looking behind you, you took a misstep and fell.

You groaned. Leaves stuck to your now dirt-covered hands and you pushed yourself up.

As you looked up, someone came into view.

A new stint of fear shot through you as you scrambled backwards.

“You do not need to fear me,” the person said. “I mean you no harm.”

As the moonlight cast down upon her, you studied the young maiden. What seemed to be a golden wreath of sorts sat upon her head, like a crown.

“I heard your prayer for safety, young one. I only wish to guide you to it,” she said, nearing closer.

Despite her soft words, you doubted her. You knew what she was and, in your experience, their kind never gave anything without wanting something in return.

She knelt in front of you. “My name is Soteria. Will you let me help you?” Soteria stood and offered you a hand.

Unlike other gods you’d met, she seemed kind. She didn’t have the same feel as the others. No malice or anger or lies.

Even though your paranoia screamed no, you couldn’t help but take it.

She lifted you up and gently touched your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. It was rather uncomfortable really. Her hand fell.

“Travel straight that way,” she said, pointing to her right. Her gaze followed her arm. “And you will find safety.”

You nodded, gratefully.

“Young one,” she said, turning back to you. “No harm shall fall on you if you keep this with you.” The goddess took your hands into hers and placed something in them. “You will survive and you will persevere.”

“How do you know?” You asked.

“Believe it and it will be so, my child,” she said, cupping your cheeks with a smile.

•

You pushed yourself off the forest floor and shakily rose to your feet.

“Must have really hit my head,” you mumbled to yourself.

You hadn’t realized you were tightly gripping something cold and sharp in your hand until it began to cut into your skin.

Taking a look at the foreign but familiar object, your sight is met with a metal circle hung from a chain, the face of Medusa filling the frame. Moonlight glinted off the metal, shading her horrific, severed head. Running your thumb over the pendant, you noticed her snake-like head raised from the circle. You could even feel the raised blood falling from her stump and the fangs of Medusa and her snakes. Said snakes had minute scales engraved into them. The gorgon's mouth hung wide open like a snake’s with flesh between the top and bottom at the corners of the mouth. She hissed, baring her fangs, at an unknown attacker along with her forward-facing serpents. Her slit-pupilled eyes spoke of the fear and anger she held before Perseus cut her head from her body. On either side of the pendant, golden laurel sprigs created a sort of half-wreath. You ran your thumb over the gold as well. The detail of the leaves was incredible. Tiny, minuscule veins wound through them. Small gems you didn’t know the names of decorated the sprigs, clustered together to resemble flower buds. It was a beautiful, albeit peculiar, necklace.

Upon remembering what Soteria said, you put the necklace on and gripped the pendant tight. It was strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, turned to where the goddess had pointed and marched on with a strange, newfound confidence and determination. Knowing that a goddess was behind you and the Roman Medusa hung around your neck renewed you.

He wouldn’t get you. You wouldn’t let him.

•

You didn’t know how long you walked, but the moon had set and dawn had broken.

Birds, the noisy things, squawked and sung and annoyed the ever-living daylights out of your tired self.

Still, it was a better sound to be around than the New Gods and the shite they were always talking about.

The Technical Boy in particular. Him and his talk of being better than the Old Gods. But, he seemed to be the best of the bunch. Sadly, that’s not saying much.

Media was a snake who told you the prettiest lies and World, despite saying he cared for you (never love, only care), preferred a pretty lie over the ugly truth, telling you whatever would keep you the happiest and controlled by him. It took you a long time to admit he was manipulative, but once you settled that with yourself (not an easy task) it was slightly easier to see his lies and manipulative tendencies.

The Technical Boy didn’t give two shites about you, and, thus, didn’t care to lie. He always told you exactly what was going on. He was also, usually, really fucking blunt. The dude had no filter.

Eventually, your tired legs and sore muscles screamed at you to take a break. The dryness in your mouth and rumble in your stomach asked the same of you.

But you couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Your mind told you to keep going, that relief was just around the corner. And, you believed it. Besides, if you passed out now, who’s to say the fumes wouldn’t run out while you were resting? Or worse yet, someone aligned with World would find you.

A car rushed by, a flurry of leaves trailing behind it.

You clambered up the ditch, mud and leaves furthering to dirty your clothes.

Not to say they were clean before your escape. Too much could happen in the time it took to clean a load of laundry.

You walked along the road. Cars passed you occasionally, but it was far too early and the road was probably a ways away from the complex. That complex was also pretty far from any city.

•

Exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, you prayed you’d be able to stop soon even just for a minute or so.

As you walked, the faint outline of a building stood up ahead.

You sighed in relief.

Maybe there will be people there. Ones not attached to him.

All you could do was hope for that and maybe some water, that’d be nice, too.

•

As you got closer, you realized it was a motel. A Motel America with its neon blue and red. It, faintly, reminded you of the U.S. flag. That was probably the point of it.

You stumbled to where an attendant sat behind a desk. They didn’t notice you.

“Hello,” you said, voice raspy. “How- How much is a room?”

They looked up and their jaw dropped. “Are you okay?”

‘Must be worse off than I thought,’ you thought.

The floor under you swayed and you struggled to keep your footing.

“Mx? Are you okay?” the attendant asked again. “Do you need an ambulance?”

You shook your head. “No. Just- just a room. Please. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

They nodded and grabbed a key, handing it to you.

You fumbled for your bag and tried to pay, but the attendant shook their head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

You mumbled thanks and stumbled away, rubbing your necklace.

“Call if you need anything,” they shouted after you.

A bout of relief spread through you and you thanked the attendant in your head. You also thanked Soteria. She was probably the reason you’d even got here.

•

The smooth, clean blankets covered you, wrapping you in their warmth. It didn’t matter that you were still wearing dirty, grimy clothes and hadn’t taken a shower in over three days. For once, you felt clean, and most importantly, safe.

Your muscles ached as much as your stomach growled. The emptiness of your stomach reminded you of your current lack of adequate resources. Sure, you had some cash stuffed away in your backpack, but not enough to last long.

Someone gently shook you awake.

With a groan, you buried your face in a pillow.

The person shook you again.

You turned to them, only to find the attendant from last night.

“Morning,” they said. “My shift’s been over for a while, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position with more effort than you should need. “I’m fine.”

Your growling stomach betrayed you.

The attendant looked down to your stomach then back to you. “Sure about that?” They asked, eyebrows raised. “I got an extra sandwich in my bag. Want it?”

You nodded but refused to meet their gaze.

It wasn’t that you wanted to take advantage of their generosity, but you were starving.

The attendant slowly backed away like you were a wounded animal. They pulled something out of a bag and tossed it to you. “I’m Sammy, by the way.” Sammy pointed to the bathroom. “There are cups in there if you need them.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I won’t stay much longer. I have to keep moving.”

Sammy nodded.

You got the feeling they understood your position. Maybe that’s why Soteria had directed you here.

•

Night had fallen and the waning moon filled the sky with her beauty as her beautiful wives twinkled with her, though they did not shine with her same might.

You stepped outside your room onto the concrete walk, fiddling with the gift from Soteria.

Though you may not have been able to wash your clothes, a nice shower, some food, water, and rest did you wonders.

Sammy peeked out of their place and waved.

You waved back before setting out on the road.

There was a long journey ahead of you.

•

A fluttering of butterfly-like creatures caught your attention. Turning to the sound, a box sat with the creatures hovering above it. They disappeared when you saw the box.

You had been looking out for one of those.

World and the others had a particular fondness for them.

Your breathing quickened and you slowly stepped away before you started running down the road, your backpack bouncing up and down as you went. Though your muscles still ached, you pushed through the pain.

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t be trapped with them again, with him again. You had to keep running. You had to get away.

In a foolish move, you looked behind you only to see it gone.

When you looked back, headlights blinded you, stopping you in your tracks. You covered your face, wincing from the bright light. Stepping back, you realized it was Technical Boy’s limo. As you, again, stepped back, you knocked into something. Slowly, you turned around and looked into the faceless thing the New Gods called one of The Children. It grabbed you by your arms, holding you still.

Instinctively, your hand went to the necklace as you panted, staring at the Child. It had barely been a day and you already clung to it like a koala on a tree.

A flood of light and smoke came from the limo, bringing your attention back to it.

The door opened and someone, no, two someones stepped out.

A scowling Technical Boy and a pleasantly, fakely smiling Media stood up and faced you.

“Y/N, darling,” Media said, flourishing her arms out. “It is so good to see you again.” She wagged a finger at you. “You’ve been very naughty. Running away like that and all.” The goddess smiled at you. “Mr World has been very distraught over your absence. Oh, how he loves you so. The two of you are like Cesar and Cleopatra.”

Technical Boy snorted. “You mean World’s a creep and helped create a false narrative surrounding--”

Before he could complete his sentence, Media slapped him upside the head.

“Hush,” she hissed.

The boyish god winced and rubbed his head.

Media approached you, still all fake smiles and pleasantries. “Darling, Mr World really does miss you terribly. I’ve never seen him quite so distraught! Please, come home. We, well, Mr World, can take good care of you. You can be happy again. Just come home.”

“He wants me back?” You asked.

Media readily nodded.

“Then he should come get me himself.”

A smirk crept on Technical Boy’s face but he pushed it away. “Look, I admire your determination and tenacity, I do, really, but come on. He’s making life a living Hell for us. Just come back. I’m sure he’ll do better by you or whatever,” he said.

Your gaze shifted to him, eyes shining. “You know nothing of a living Hell,” you said, your voice breaking. Tears threatened your eyelids at knifepoint.

“Not helping,” Media sang with a strained smile at Technical Boy.

He looked down and rolled his eyes.

“Look, darling, I know Mr World can be difficult--”

You cut her off. “Difficult? Difficult!? You think he’s difficult?” You asked. “No, he’s fucking insane and manipulative. I want nothing to do with him or any of you. Just leave me alone.” Your tears cut through and spilt down your face.

Media opened her mouth to say something but closed it, not knowing what to do.

Technical Boy made a dismissive wave at the Child and it stepped away, letting you go. He carefully stepped toward you.

“I don’t like you,” he said. “I don’t know why World does. I don’t get what he finds so fucking interesting about a pathetic, squishy, easily killed human. But I know he wants you back and has spent every second he can trying to find you.” The god stopped in front of you. “He’s obsessed and, yeah, he’s manipulative and probably insane. That’s World for ya.” Technical Boy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just come back, maybe punch him in the face, demand some shit or whatever. I don’t care. But World is fucking riding us like you used to ride him. He is up our fucking asses all day and it’s driving me insane. Please, for the love of fucking God, just come back before I lose my shit.”

You wiped away the tears and looked the arrogant son of a bitch in the eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Technical Boy.”

His hand fell from your shoulder. He turned back and shrugged. “I tried.”

It was obvious, even to the most socially inept, that he didn’t really care about you.

In the distance, a man struggled to maintain a straight line as he drove. Liquor bottles clink against each other in the backseat, and the passenger seat and floor.

Media stepped forward. “I understand your uneasiness, Y/N, but things can be different.”

The car got closer, swerving around. No one seemed to notice.

“No, they can’t,” you said. “He will never change.”

Technical Boy, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up. He spotted the car and straightened. “Um, guys…”

“Not now,” she said, raising her pointer finger behind her at him.

Technical Boy slipped his phone away. “But--”

“I said, not now!” The goddess turned around to glare at him.

“Yeah, but there’s a fucking car!” Technical Boy said, pointing at the oncoming car.

You swivelled around, taking a look around the Child. Headlights filled your gaze, and, for a moment, you understood what it felt like to be a deer trying to get across a road. By the time you recognized what was happening, it was too late; you couldn’t get away.

The last things you felt was the Child’s body slamming into yours and the distinct feeling of dread.

You were going to die.

There was also a sense of relief, knowing that you would die free and not chained to him.

•

The sound of beeping woke you. The feeling of another warm body against yours was unsettling when you did wake. As you opened your eyes, your blood ran cold.

World was holding you, partially on the bed with one of his legs hanging off.

“Hello, my dear,” he purred. “It’s good to see you awake.”

You pushed him away and tried to sit up.

“Oh, no, no, no, we will be having none of that now, my dear. You are far too injured.” The well-dressed god pulled you back toward him, but you did not relax.

Slowly, he pushed you back into a lying position and kissed your forehead like a child. He even dared to pull blankets over you. World sat onto the bed and faced you, gently reaching out and stroking your cheek.

Some part of you wanted to react, to vomit or push him away, but you couldn’t. Every fibre of your being told you not to do anything to make him mad. After 6 years of that keeping you alive, the idea had become ingrained.

“I almost lost you, my dear,” World said, quietly. “The thought of never seeing you again was unbearable. I’m so glad to have you back, safe and sound beside me.”

Though he seemed to actually mean it, with shimmering eyes and kind movements, you couldn’t trust him now any more than you could any other time. It was all a facade, a carefully crafted one at that. He had manipulated you before and would do it again. This time, though, you wouldn’t let him, no matter what he did. This snake would no longer charm you.

Despite it being a majorly bad idea, you had to ask the question that had been running through your head since you’d run the first time.

“Why?” You asked, quiet as a mouse. “Why do you want me so badly? I don’t understand it.”

His hand traced a path to yours. “My dearest, you know better than to ask something like that. A partner like you best kept with their mouth shut and a pretty smile on it.” With his free hand, he tilted your chin upward, possessively smiling down at your frowning face with malice.

“That’s not an answer,” you said.

World’s smile became strained as he tried to hold back the urge to smack you. You could tell by his eyes that’s what he wanted. There was dark anger behind them. Instead, he chuckled lightly before roughly grabbing your jaw and bringing you in close. “It’s the only one you’re getting, my dear.” He leant in close, any semblance of a smile falling away, and looked into your eyes. “If you ever,” he said, trembling with rage. “And I mean ever, leave like that again, I will not be so kind as I am now. Do you understand me?”

Against his hand, you tried to nod, any form of confidence fading from you. In his hands, or hand more like, you were like a tiny, weak child all over again.

He roughly shoved your face into the pillow and it stayed there as you were too afraid to look back at him. You bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut, trying not to whimper or cry.

World stood. “Technical Boy,” he said.

The tech god slowly walked in, keeping his eyes on the ground. Even he was somewhat afraid of World. Technical Boy stood near the door, not daring to walk in any further without permission.

“Wassup?” He said, popping the p.

World glared at him, disapproving of his casualness, from the opposite side of your bed.

Your head still firmly placed on the pillow, you opened your eyes to look at Technical Boy.

He had a rather odd style choice that you’d become fond of over the years. Today was no different.

Today, he seemed to have a hard-on for neon. Neon yellow and orange shoes with shiny spikes around the soles. A multi-neon-coloured jacket that looked like someone took a paintbrush and just started painting diagonal lines in a thousand different neon colours. His pants were awful, too. Every type of neon colouring on it, just like his jacket. Neon pink suspenders hung from his trousers and a neon blue t-shirt with a giant, pixilated, neon green thing on it. It was one of those spaceships from Galaga Shooter from back in the 80s or whenever. You couldn't remember what they were called exactly. Maybe it was just spaceships from Galaga Shooter.

His hair was, much like his clothing, a weird story. Along the pulled-back sides were two metal pieces on both sides, going from the front all the way back. Maybe they connected around the back of his head. The top had pieces wrapped into little bowls all the way down the middle. On his shoulder was a braid pulled out from the back. More neon stripes decorated his hair, from bowls to braid.

World looked to you. “Technical Boy will be looking after you until you’re all better and you can come home properly.” There was plasticity to his voice that you’d only become recently aware of before you’d run from him. World walked around your hospice bed and stopped next to Technical Boy on his way out. He turned slightly, the tech god mirroring his action, and whispered something you couldn’t hear before leaving.

As World left, you watched the tensed Technical Boy with curiosity. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he mumbled. The god looked around and found a chair.

As he pulled the chair to sit next to the door, you struggled to sit up.

“Don’t even think about trying to run,” he said. “I ain’t like the Spooks or the Children. I’m not stupid nor easy to manipulate or overpower. You running will only hurt yourself and piss World off.” He sat down and leant back into it, staring at the ceiling. “Why the fuck is he so fucking interested in you, anyway? You’re not that special. Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive in a simple, human-ey way, but you’re not, well, you’re not geometrically perfect, or close to it, like, say, Jensen Ackles.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said, finally in a sitting position. “I know there’s no point now.” You wryly chuckled, tears slipping from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy watched you, uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not others’. “You good?”

You wipe away your tears before looking over at him. Deftly, you flip him off. There was nothing Technical Boy could do to you that would hurt more than knowing you were, once again, trapped under Mr World’s thumb.

The god rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well play some games.

You look around the room, crossing your arms and rubbing them. It was a plain, white, rectangular room with your bed, a chair, and a nightstand. Otherwise, it was barren. The most interesting and colourful thing here was Technical Boy’s awful outfit, which looked, strangely, stylish on him, and the blankets on your bed. Their colours were stark in contrast to your hospital gown with the polka dots and barren room. The top blanket looked like a hand-stitched quilt with an array of warm colours and black decorated with images of cats and witches and other things like that. The others were larger child-like blankets with Bob the Builder, Care Bears, and other things like that on them. You ran a hand over the top one, enjoying the stitching and cloth running under your fingertips.

“World had those brought for you,” Technical Boy said, not looking up from his phone.

Your blood ran cold and your hand froze where it was. Slowly, your hands receded and you pushed the blankets away. Knowing that, even now, World was, in a way, touching you freaked you out. You needed to get away from it. You needed to get away from him. Barely registering what you were doing, you kicked the blankets over the edge bed and pushed yourself away from them and into the pillow behind you.

The quilt and childish blankets cascaded to the floor, unceremoniously falling into a heap.

The tech god looked up from his phone and stared at you as you curled up and hugged your knees, staring wide-eyed at the blankets. He continued to watch as you began scratching at yourself, trying to get the feeling of World off you. Technical Boy didn’t intervene until he noticed you bleeding.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, the god got up and walked over to you. He sat on your bed and grabbed your hands.

Out of pure instinct, you thrashed in his grip as he tried to calm you down. You could hear someone calling for you but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was here and he was going to hurt you.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy yelled over your panic. “Stop it. You're hurting yourself.” You continued fighting against him, kicking and thrashing. “Fuck’s sake, I need someone in here!”

Nurses came in and held you down before one stuck a needle into your arm and you passed out.

•

A year and a half ago

You lay in bed, texting a friend, one of the few World let you have. Smiling at your phone, you pulled a blanket over you, a quilt with sock monkeys on it.

World entered and took off his blazer, setting it on a fluffy chair. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. “Hello, my dear,” he purred, watching you.

You looked up and smiled. “Hi, bossman.”

He smiled, leant over you, and kissed your forehead. “Have you been good today?” He asked.

You shrugged and took one of his hands into your free one. “I did what you asked if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been out all day.”

“Good, my dear. Good,” he said before sitting on the bed and caressing your cheek. “I don’t want anyone else taking you away from me.”

“I wouldn’t want them to, love.” You smiled, gazing into his eyes.

As World started to say something, your friend texted you back a meme. Because of the addictive nature of technology, your head snapped to your screen. You laughed.

World’s eyes hardened. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just a friend.” You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side. You could worry about responding later.

“Just a friend, huh?” He asked. “A friend that makes you laugh?”

His sudden change in attitude threw you off and you sat up more. “Well, it was less my friend and more a meme he sent me.”

“He?” World growled.

He seemed to grow bigger, or maybe you were just pushing yourself into the bed more.

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. “I thought you said he was okay to talk to.”

World gripped your wrists, kneeling on the bed, and pushed you down. “I told you not to leave the house.” He jerked you off the bed and began to drag you out of the room in your underwear.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I was just talking to him,” you pleaded as you tried to stand. His grip tightened and began to hurt. “World, love, please, stop. You’re hurting me.”

Just as you had managed to get in a crouching position to stand, World yanks you down. You land with a thud on the cold, wooden floor.

“Hurting you? Never, my dear. No, I’m just punishing you for disobeying me.” He stood over you, his fists clenched.

“I- I didn’t. I didn’t go outside.”

That only seemed to piss him off more.

“I said not to leave the house. That means technologically as well. You disobeyed me, my dear. I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve given me no choice.”

•

Present Day

You woke up in a fetal position in bed. Clenching your fists, you willed yourself to forget about the nightmare. Shakily, you pushed yourself up, blankets falling off you. A part of you expected, when you looked at them, you’d find the ones World had gotten for you. Instead, you were greeted by a different set, the top one with a close-up of a bunch of wolves perched atop a cliff with a forest in the background on it.

“I had one of the Children get some other blankets from a nearby store,” Technical Boy said, glued to his phone. “I didn’t tell it any specific type of blankets to get, so it just grabbed some. Hope you like wolves.”

Assured in the knowledge World hadn’t had a hand in getting these, you laid back down, pulling the blankets over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing heavily, and curled back into a fetal position.

•

Weeks passed and you slowly healed. The Child that you had been in front of when the car struck had partially protected you, so you were better off than if it’d rammed into without any sort of cushioning. Still, rehab was fucking painful.

Technical Boy mostly said nothing, preferring his tech to others, particularly you. When he did speak, it was sarcastic and filled with a feeling of superiority. It tended to get on your nerves. But it was better than the alternative. Occasionally, he’d get a text and he’d be out the door faster than the Flash going at light speed. It was rare but still, you dreaded those texts because he’d always leave one of the creepy Children behind, or several depending on how he was feeling.

You’d talk to Technical Boy, of course. Well, not specifically to him, but you’d talk aloud to kill time. It was mostly rambling about one thing or another. Sometimes you’d talk about your parents and family, other times you’d talk about random things you’d learnt over the years. On very rare occasions, maybe once or twice, you’d talk about World and what it was like with him. It was nice, just talking without anyone listening but someone still being physically there. You knew he didn’t care and he probably wasn’t listening, but that didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Sometimes, he’d stop scrolling or playing a game for so long you thought he was listening. Thankfully, he was just reading something when that happened. Talking “to” Technical Boy was like talking to a brick wall in the best way possible.

Now, you laid in bed, throwing things at the ceiling, head relaxed against the headboard. You closed your eyes, groaning.

Out of pure boredom and nostalgia, you remembered a school play you’d been forced to do; The Wizard of Oz. You had played the Wicked Witch of the West for the second half of the play. Despite the rather enjoyable performance, you did hate the green face paint you’d had to wear. It didn’t feel good against your skin. As you remembered the play, you began to think about the song Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead that your Mum had always teased you with. That and the whole “I’m melting scene”. The song rang through your head as you tried to remember all the words, but the same lines repeated over and over again.

“Ding-dong! The witch is dead. Which old witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding-dong! The Wicked Witch is dead,” you sang, very much off-key but with a childish enjoyment.

Technical Boy joined in with his eyes still glued to his phone. “Wake up, ya sleepy-head. Rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

“Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead!” You both sang out, Technical Boy was much quieter than you.

Your head fell forward and you giggled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. Technical Boy, unused to the sound, looked up at you, the edges of his mouth twitching up. But, when you looked at him, he looked away, his lips straining into a white line as he tried to cover up the smile. You curiously watched him for a while like you were waiting for him to do something. Upon deciding he was too boring to do anything of note, you started humming Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead to yourself. The song had ingrained itself into your brain.

Technical Boy typed something into his phone before speaking. “I can play it out loud if you want.” He showed you his phone’s screen.

You couldn’t tell what was on it as it was too far away, but you assumed it was Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead. “Sure. If you want.”

He pressed play and turned up the volume, but the noise was minuscule. Technical Boy gave it a confused look, frowning, and mouthed a “what the fuck”. For a few minutes, you watched him fuck around with his phone, trying to solve the problem.

Eventually, he turned to you. “Sorry. Volume isn’t working as it should. Must be some sort of hardware issue. I’ll take a closer look later.”

You considered, for a moment, that maybe Technical Boy wasn’t as good with his tech as he liked to boast. Then you remembered that TECHnical Boy was a TECH god and this is probably happening because he wants it to, on some level. You internally laugh at the thought.

‘Maybe he really hates that song,’ you thought.

“It’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to hear if you get closer,” you said with a small smile.

You could have sworn he was blushing at that moment. That was definitely peculiar. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

Technical Boy scratched the back of his neck, looking away from you. “Yeah, sure. That- that could work.” He got up, shuffling his sneakers along the tile.

As he neared your bed, he rewound the video and started playing it. Instead of sitting on the bed, he awkwardly stood there, holding his phone closer to you.

You laughed lightly before patting the bed. “You can sit down, you know that right? I’m not as easily broken as you might think.”

“I don’t think you’re easily broken at all,” he mumbled as he sat down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Technical Boy drug the timer back to the zero second mark, replaying the video.

You shuffled around, listening to the song, before getting closer. Your chest pressed against Technical Boy’s back as you rested your chin on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he was very warm.

You’d expected him to be like his domain, cold and calculating, but, you supposed, he’d always been very angry and loud, just like the other part of his domain. You smiled softly, recognizing the duality to him. The angry, emotional, loud human-dominated Internet and the cold, logical, data-processing technology-dominated, well, tech. Then, you remembered how phones and computers were. It had been so long since you’d had one, it was like a far off memory. But, all technology tended to warm up as they were used and cooled when they weren’t.

You nuzzled into his strangely soft sweater, your cheek pressing lightly against Technical Boy's neck. Blood rushed up to his neck as his heart beat heavily, you could hear it more than you could hear the music. It was very calming. Though the rapidness of the beat was slightly concerning. Usually, humans have really fast heartbeats wasn’t a good sign, but he wasn’t human so maybe it worked differently.

Technical Boy glanced down at you, trying not to disturb you. A soft smile spread across his face. A blush did the same thing over his cheeks and his ears tinted pink as your hands found their way to his side.

You sighed, content, as you relaxed.

You hadn’t meant to get so physical with Technical Boy, but it felt nice to feel someone else’s warmth for once. To even be near someone again without fear of getting hurt was a huge relief. Though you knew if World ever found out, he’d kill you both or worse.

At the thought of the cruel god, you reached for where your necklace used to be. Instead, you grasped at nothing. The reminder that World had taken your necklace made you feel empty and cold even with the heater named Technical Boy letting you hold onto him. Your eyebrows knitted together as sadness filled your heart, weighing it down. Still holding nothing, you pressed your face into the tech god’s shoulder.

Technical Boy gently reached for the hand still on his side. He grasped it and pulled it around his stomach, gently rubbing your knuckles. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, just as surprised by his own concern and gentleness as you were.

If it had been anyone else, he would have pushed them away, but this was you and, after all the weeks you’d spent rambling, he felt like he knew you better than World did.

To be fair, most people probably knew you better than World did.

Still, Technical Boy had started to understand why World wanted you so badly. You were so human and so sweet, laughing at your own jokes and, in a way, treating him like a pet like always humans tend to do with technology. The way you so easily spoke to him about whatever was on your mind and the way you smiled even when you weren’t doing anything, was so human and he found that, despite how he had always viewed humans, he liked that about you. He wouldn’t say he felt anything stronger, but he did like it. Maybe more than he should.

You tiredly looked up at him, lips grazing his sweater (Technical Boy found himself wishing he wasn’t wearing one) and gave him a strained smile.

“I’m alright, I suppose,” you said. “I’m just wishing I still had my necklace. It helps calm me down.”

Technical Boy nodded, his phone turning off.

You didn’t know if he did that or it did it by itself.

“What’s it look like?”

His gaze seems to drop to your lips before darting back to your eyes, but you can’t be sure of yourself.

You shrugged. “Head of Medusa and gold sprigs of laurel shooting out from the pendant.”

Technical Boy nodded, mentally putting a yellow sticky note on a rough image of the necklace he had in his head with “find” written in red on it. “Sounds cool,” he said, meaning it but sounding rather casual about it. He mentally facepalmed.

You nodded, still touching the place the pendant once hung in front of.

Technical Boy noticed your despondency and put the yellow sticky note and the necklace under important.

You trailed your free hand down Technical Boy’s back, nails sending tingles all over his body.

This was something you both needed, but both rarely got.

Physical touch is the hardest thing you’ve ever come by, especially after meeting World.

As for Technical Boy, he was a lonely god surrounded by cold fellow New Gods and unfulfilling worship. Though he was necessary for the U.S. to function, the people’s belief in him wasn’t really belief IN him. It was a belief that technology is going to solve everyone’s problems. They do not view him as a deity and they do not know he even exists. It’s a sad thing for a god to be worshipped but not known truly within their worshippers. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other gods like Media and World didn’t really like him and they did nothing to hide it.

He glanced at you again. You caught it and smiled softly, wrapping your other arm around him, enjoying the warmth of him and the feeling of another being. The god leant into you, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. His hands found yours and he absentmindedly rubbed them.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy snorted. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s just-- You’re Technical Boy. You don’t like humans, so you probably aren’t the biggest fan of this.” You shifted slightly but still held him close.

He turned to look at you. “If I wasn’t okay with this I would make it known. I tend to do that.” A slight, itty bitty smile surfaced. “I can show you if you want? Trust me, I can be really loud and annoying.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth as you laughed.

Technical Boy’s smile widened and there was a strange light to his eyes as he watched you.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ya know, I’m really touch-starved, so, trust me, I’m enjoying this,” he said.

Silently, you reached for one of his hands and held it in your own. “So am I, to be honest. World was never really one for touching. I was often pretty lonely…” You trailed off, eyes wandering. “It’s not much like that now, though. Even with him looming over me, at least you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said. Part of him wanted to kiss your cheek, but his far more logical side decided that would be a dumb idea. Instead, he squeezed your hand and smiled. “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

All you could do was smile.

•

The Child sat there in Technical Boy’s chair like an action figure not in use.

Laying on your stomach at the end of your bed, your head sat on your crossed arms as you watched the empty, motionless creation.

Technical Boy had gotten one of those texts and had to leave. One of the Children had taken his place.

Ever since that conversation a few weeks or so ago and all the touching that happened, the tech god had opened up a little more, willingly joking with you and talking. You’d finally gotten to know more about the god. Turns out he was moderately decent sometimes.

You continued staring at the Child, your head falling to lay down. Blowing out a breath of air, you flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

World, thankfully, had been too busy to stop by in ages.

Sometimes, you’d learnt, you were fine with his name and existence being mentioned. Other times, you weren’t. Sometimes, you were scared, but his presence didn’t make you freak out. Other times, it did. The whole thing was pretty inconsistent.

You’d missed Technical Boy. His presence had a calming effect on you to a degree you didn’t understand. Still, when he laughed, you smiled with pride. When he smiled at you, your heart clenched in your chest. And, of course, when you caught him stealing a glance at you, you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening made you jump and you quickly turned to see who it was.

Silently, you hoped it was Technical Boy and feared it was World.

A familiar face walked in with something in his hands.

“Tech!” You smiled and sat up.

He grinned at you before slipping whatever was in his hands behind his back and walking in. Realizing the Child was still there, he gave it a look and it got up. It left and shut the door behind it.

“I got something for you,” Technical Boy said, turning his attention back to you. “I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Head tilting with curiosity, you look at him. “What is it?”

He chuckled and sat down on your bed. “You’ll have to open it and see,” he said, pulling a small box from behind his back. He handed it to you.

Gently, you took the box and opened it. Inside sat a shell-shaped compact mirror. Though definitely disappointed, you were more confused than anything. You took it out and examined it.

“Why did you give me a mirror?” You asked.

Technical Boy’s grin grew. “Cause, without it, you wouldn’t be able to see what I’m about to give you.” He slipped behind you on the bed and opened the mirror over your shoulders, placing it in your hand. “Now, close your eyes and don’t open them till I say,” he whispered into your ear.

You leant back into him, enjoying the closeness. Though you were reluctant and a little confused, you closed your eyes anyway, deciding to trust Technical Boy.

You listened as shuffled around. A sudden and strange, though familiar, feeling of something settling around your neck made you tense, but that tension faded quickly.

“Okay,” he said. “Open ‘em.” Technical Boy’s head settled on your shoulder and he wrapped his arms around your waist, watching you in anticipation.

Just as you began to open your eyes, he stopped you. “Wait, hold up.” You felt one of his hands cup yours as he adjusted the mirror. “Okay, now.”

You opened them, greeted by a view of your necklace shining in the bright, artificial lighting. Your jaw drops as you stare at the terrifying face of Medusa. A warmth finds its way into your heart as your open mouth turns into a grin. Gently, filled with disbelief, you reach up and touch the pendant. Realizing it was truly there and not an illusion or something, a weight lifted off you, knowing you hadn’t lost it. You sighed in relief and clutched the pendant, closing your eyes.

Out of excitement, you turn around and wrap your arms around Technical Boy, hugging him tightly.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. He knew you’d be happy but he hadn’t anticipated this. Remembering all the fanfics, posts, shows, and movies put on the internet, he realized hugging back would be a smart option. That would definitely help with keeping his blush hidden. He hugged you back, nuzzling into your neck.

As you pulled away slightly, you looked at him, still smiling.

He shyly smiled back.

You knew he blushed rather easily, but the sight of his face so flushed and ears so pink was a little shocking. It was still cute, though.

You fell back into him and rested your head on his chest.

Technical Boy squeezed you tight, resting his head against yours. He closed his eyes, finding himself able to relax with you.

A few seconds of silence passed before you decided, on a random whim, to kiss Technical Boy’s cheek.

He froze.

If he was pink before, he was Hot Tamale Red now.

You giggled lightly before beaming up at him.

Honestly, you couldn’t say why you did it. All you knew was that it felt right.

The door to your room slammed open and World appeared. Both you and Technical Boy snapped your heads to look at him, eyes wide.

You scrambled away from Technical Boy and off the bed, eyes going wide at the sight of your terrifying ex.

"And what exactly is going on here?" World asked. He stepped into the room and glared at you

The tech god got off the bed and put himself between the two of you, pulling World's attention away from you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt, especially because of him. He didn't care if he got hurt. Technical Boy was a god; he could handle it. You were human and World had already done enough.

"Nothing much," he said. "Just talking."

World got closer.

Your heart pounded against your chest. The familiar fear of his presence shaking you to your core.

The way he approached reminded you so much of how he used to right before he laid into you, all height and glaring. He was going to hurt you again. Or Technical Boy.

Gods, Technical Boy. You didn't want him hurt. He'd been so kind to you over the last few weeks and had really come out of his metallic and rude shell. The thought of him regressing and being cold to you again sickened you.

"It seems as though I've caught my beloved and you doing much more than “talking”," World hissed.

Out of pure fear, you hide more behind Technical Boy, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Y/N hugged me," the god said, maintaining eye contact with World. "That's it. They were thanking me."

World took off his fedora, his long coat hanging off his shoulder. "For what?" His head jerked unnaturally.

"For being here when you weren't and for getting them their necklace back," Technical Boy said.

You hadn't noticed how tense he was until World was nearly on top of the two of you. He was just as scared as you were. Technical Boy breathed heavily through his nose but refused to flinch.

World pointed at your necklace and growled, "You shouldn't have that."

Your hand shot to your necklace, clutching the pendant in shaking fingers.

"And who are you to dictate that?" Technical Boy asked.

World, angered by Technical Boy's insubordination, walked to him and looked him in the eye. "You will leave if you know what's good for you, Boy," he said unwaveringly. "And, if you know what's good for them." World turned away, his fingers trailing across the end of your bed. "Unless, of course, you want them to receive the worst possible treatment for their injuries."

Technical Boy's eyes went wide and his jaw tensed. He looked to you.

You didn't want him to go. You didn't want to be left alone with World. You didn't want to left alone at all. Despite that, you also didn't want to end up in a dark room to die and you didn't want Technical Boy to feel guilty if that happened.

Turning to the tech god, you nodded toward the door, mouthing the word "go".

He hesitantly tried to say something, eyes glistening with sorrow and guilt, but didn't, defeated.

As he left, his heart heavy, you gave him a pained smile and wave. Once he walked through the doorway, your smile fell and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You already knew what World was going to do.

He turned to you, scowling.

•

Outside the room, Technical Boy stood, already hating himself for leaving you to deal with him alone. The number of times World had hurt him because he wasn’t perfect or didn’t do what World wanted exactly as he wanted it done and had the shite beaten out of him for it was astronomical. He’d always wished Media had done something about it when it happened, but she never did. Now, he had done the same thing to you.

He heard you yelp and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. Your cries echoed in his ears as World beat you. Though the door was shut, it did nothing to mask what he was doing to you. Technical Boy could faintly hear him saying this to you. He couldn't fully make them out, but he knew, in his heart, they were as vicious and violent as he was.

It took all of the tech god's self-control not to rush back in and protect you. He'd shield you with his own body if he had to.

Sadly, the god knew you'd only be worse off if he did. So, he sucked it up and walked away, fists clenched.

He had to figure out a way to get you out of here before World made sure you'd never go anywhere again.

•

You laid in bed, curled up with the blankets Technical Boy had gotten for you. The cloth felt soft and strange against your skin like you weren’t used to the feeling of safety and warmth around you. Even though you’d been using them for months at this point, the blankets still felt foreign. They were better than any World could force on you, at least. And, they reminded you of Technical Boy.

Since the day you told him to go, you hadn’t heard a peep. It was like he vanished from your like.

Honestly, you were worried about him and thought about him a lot. You had no idea if he was alright or not. Unfortunately, you'd experienced just how cruel World could be when he was angry; your face and body were plenty of evidence of that. Though Technical Boy was a god and World couldn't kill him, you feared for Technical Boy's safety. Over the years you'd been with World, he showed an apathy toward Technical Boy, if not hatred for him. He'd been violent with the tech god before. You knew he would be like that again on a whim. That's all it ever took; a whim.

The door to your room opened.

Tensing, you pulled your blankets closer. You shook slightly, closing your eyes and letting out a fearful breath. A free hand laid where the pendant of your necklace should be.

You'd been expecting him to come back to teach you another lesson. World had come every day since he's taken Technical Boy off "Y/N duty".

Slowly, you steadied your breathing and opened your eyes. A part of you hoped he'd find no joy in it today, that he'd grow tired of you and toss you aside. Even if you ended up dying, it'd be better than living in fear of World for the rest of your life.

"Y/N," a familiar and gentle voice said.

You wiped the blanket off and turned to look at the speaker; Technical Boy stood there with bruises on his face. They didn't take away from how happy you were to see him.

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile, but his eyes screamed of pain. "Hey."

Of course, World had hurt him. You knew he would. It was World. But, that feeling in your chest, the feeling of your heart squeezing, the feeling you'd felt when World showed up randomly early on, the feeling of relief and love filled you as you looked at the tech god.

Without hesitation, you pushed away from the blankets and scrambled off the bed, not even thinking about them falling to the floor. You didn't give Technical Boy a second to breathe as you pulled him into a tight hug. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you screwed your eyes shut and breathed him in.

After the initial shock, Technical Boy slowly hugged back. He tested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. "Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks. His soft eyes searched yours.

You chuckled, tears of joy pooling at the corners of your eye. “I’m-- I’m better now,” you said with a smile.

Technical Boy relaxed a little, but still, his eyes stayed trained on your face. His fingers ghosted over your bruises and split lip.

It made you wince.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did he do this to you?”

You looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. "He cause those?" You asked, turning back and gesturing to Technical Boy's face.

For a beat, there was silence. Without having to say a word, both of you knew what happened.

You pulled him into another hug and he quickly reciprocated.

"I can't stay long. World doesn't even know I'm here right now. I hope he doesn't, anyway." Technical Boy pulled away and smiled at you. "I'm going to get you out of here, and soon. I promise." His eyes drifted to your chest, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion before turning into anger. "And I'm going to get your necklace back from World."

You looked down, putting a hand over where your necklace should be. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a necklace.”

It wasn’t, in fact, just a necklace. It was a gift from someone who actually, selflessly cared. Though you hadn’t talked to Soteria since you’d gotten the necklace, you knew she had been watching and trying to keep you safe. You knew it in your heart of hearts, in your essence, in your very soul itself. Maybe it was a want to have someone on your side or blind stupidity, but you had an unending faith that she was with you, that she was protecting you and guiding you even now. It was that faith you clung to when World would come in. It was that faith that kept you sane. Even before Technical Boy had been sent away, it was that faith that helped you get through even the worst days where your mind would plague you will horrible memories of World and your life with him.

Technical Boy shook his head. “It’s not just a necklace. It’s your necklace. It belongs with you, not him.”

You smiled softly at him, relishing in his gentle touch.

“I’m going to get it back for you and I’m going to get you out of here, so be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, okay?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

You nodded before hugging him again.

Real, genuine, caring contact with another being, no matter how artificial, is the only thing you wanted at the moment. Everything else be damned.

•

The door to your room opened in the night. No light shone in as all was quiet. It was past midnight. Of course, all was quiet. It’d be weird if it was loud and noisy.

Laying in bed, you slept as soundly as you could with the constant threat of World looming over you and plaguing your scarred mind.

Technical Boy looked back into the dark, empty hall before slipping into your room.

His own fear and doubt squirming through his mind and infecting him. Around every corner, his heart had beaten loudly in his chest as he could never be sure someone was just around the corner. Though the god knew how to manipulate technology, even recreate and control it to a certain extent, he was still afraid that World would pop up while Technical Boy had blinded himself by taking the cameras offline. It felt wrong to not be able to see everything through the cameras. It was too late to take it back though.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy said as he gently shut the door. When you didn’t respond he got close to your bed and nudged you. “Come on, wake up. We need to go.”

You groaned quietly and tried to pull the covers over your head but Technical Boy stopped you. He pulled them off the bed and stared at you.

You whined, trying to curl up, but the god wasn’t having any of that.

“Y/N, get the fuck up or I swear to God I will throw you over my fucking shoulder,” he said putting his hands on his hips.

You groaned again and flopped to your back. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he said. “Now let’s go.” The tech god pointed at the door.

You sat up, back stiff, and stretched. “Outside?”

He nodded. “I said I’d get you out of here, didn’t I?” Technical Boy smiled before offering you his hand.

The two of you shared a smile. Just as you reached out to take his hand, you remembered World and froze.

“What about--”

“Don’t worry about him,” Technical Boy said. “I’ve got a plan. Right now, we need to go.” He grabbed you and pulled you from the bed.

•

Outside the compound World had been keeping you in, you stared at the night sky. The beautiful blues and blacks melting together, and the points of white stars twinkling high above. You never thought something could be so beautiful. The stars danced in your eyes.

Technical Boy, holding the door to his limo open, stared at you like you stared at the sky.

Feeling his eyes on you, you looked to him and gave him a soft smile.

If it wasn’t so dark, you could have been sure of whether or not he was blushing. Instead, the darkness hid his embarrassment for him as he turned away from you.

“Get in,” he said, gesturing to the limo.

You nodded and walked over. Before you slipped inside the bright automobile, you gently kissed Technical Boy’s cheek.

He stood there for a moment, stunned as the tips of his ears turned pink. Swallowing hard, he gets into the limo, sitting next to you.

•

Standing in the busy airport, you looked around, clutching the carryon bag Technical Boy had packed for you.

Patiently, you waited for the tech god to appear. He had to get some things in order before your departure.

When he did appear, he seemed nervous, scanning the crowd with fearful eyes. He stopped in front of you, still scanning.

You understood his fear. It was a similar kind to what you had felt when you’d run from World.

Gently, you touched his arm, tearing his attention from the crowd. You gave him a gentle smile.

The god softened and weakly smiled back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Technical Boy shrugged, looking down. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me.”

•

On the plane, a child kicked your seat from behind and the man at the end of the row was talking loudly on the phone. You felt bad for the grey-clad man sitting between the two of you. He was getting it far worse than you.

Looking away from the commotion, you watched the people outside the plane scramble around and grasped the necklace’s pendant.

You were so close to freedom. Close enough to taste it. Or maybe that was just the aeroplane smell.

Despite still being in the U.S., you smiled. Even if the plane crashed, you wouldn’t be stuck with World. Even if the plane gets redirected somewhere or there’s a storm and the plane has to make a landing, you could still stay away from World long enough to get another ticket out of here. It would be a terrifying ordeal, but you could do it. Even if, worst comes to worst, World finds out and finds you again, you knew you could find a way out of his grasps again.

And if none of that comes to pass, you leave the U.S. for good, and never see anyone here again, you knew you could be happy. Maybe find someone to settle down with or get an animal or something. Maybe find a good job that you can mostly enjoy that isn’t totally soul-crushing. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you can get a few hobbies that bring you joy like nothing ever could.

If you’re lucky that is, but you’ve never really been that lucky. Who knows? Maybe that will change.

#american gods #mr world #mr world x reader #technical boy #american gods fanfiction

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singing-till-the-end · 3 years

Text

nightmares

pairing: childe x lumine (chilumi)(genshin impact)

word count: 848

the traveler has nightmares about her no longer lost brother

It was cold. She could feel the wind blowing mercilessly against her, making her hair and clothes flutter uncontrollably. It was neither day nor night, neither bright nor dark; just an empty space of nothingness. Nothing except her and him.

He looked just as she remembered: his clothes, his hair, everything. Various garments on his clothes glowed white, signifying that he still had his old powers. Unlike her.

His lips were moving, formulating words she could not hear over the roar of the wind that was coming from nowhere. She tried to move closer to hear what he had to say, but no matter how hard she tried, the distance remained the same. So instead, she looked to his eyes.

What she remembered from her fragmented memories were warm, shining eyes that looked at her with love and tenderness. What she saw in front of her instead were cold eyes that were even more bitter than the howling wind, hardened from the horrors of this world she had yet to experience. In the depths of the darkness of his eyes, she swore she caught a glimmer of longing, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Indifference took its place instead.

Suddenly, the wind died. He kept talking, and this time she could hear him all too clearly.

“...I still have much to do in this world. This is a goodbye for now, Lumine.”

“No, don’t go! Don’t leave me again!” she cried out desperately, tears gathering in her eyes. “Please...let’s just go home.”

“Home...Yes, of course. “Home” is wherever we are together. But I cannot go with you yet. Once you have reached the end of your journey, you will understand.”

He turned away from her and started to walk away; each step he took shattered her already broken heart into a million more pieces. Somewhere in her, she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop him from leaving. So she just stood still, watching his figure disappear in the distance while the tears flowed down her cheeks.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rain was coming down in a soft pitter-patter. Childe much preferred the snow, but rain was welcomed as well. It had a rather soothing effect on his mind, similar to when he would fish. As absurd as it may seem, even the battle-crazed Harbinger didn’t mind some peace once in a while.

He usually didn’t camp outdoors like this. More than likely, he would have just rented a room at an inn if he needed a place to stay for the night; mora was no problem for him, after all. But since accompanying the traveler on her various tasks, he found himself resting outside a lot more. It was rather nice, he decided, especially when he and the traveler would playfully banter.

He suddenly frowned, reminded of what had occurred earlier, and he sighed. Just an hour or two before, Lumine had abruptly passed out. Her face had been rather flushed throughout the day, but Childe figured that she would have said something if she was feeling unwell. Turns out she said nothing and completed all her commissions as usual while having a fever.

Childe sighed again. That stubborn idiot. He was sure to give her an earful once she woke up.

He stood up from where he was seated and headed back into the tent. One bad thing about the rain was that finding firewood was quite difficult, and that he was forced to light the fire inside of the tent. Thankfully, he hadn’t burned anything that shouldn’t be.

As Childe lifted the lid off of the pot of simmering soup, he heard a rustling in the corner from Lumine. All seemed fine, until he heard a sniffle, then two, and then followed by a quiet sob.

He froze. Surely, the traveler couldn’t be...crying? But he heard it once more, the painful cry of anguish that, for some reason, left his heart aching.

Against his better judgment, Childe crouched beside her. Her usually beautiful face was twisted in agony, and tears were trailing down her cheeks. He lifted his hands to her cheeks, gently brushing away her tears, and ran his hands through her hair. He wasn’t sure about Lumine, but Tonia had always loved it when he would do that; maybe it would calm her, too.

He continued brushing her hair, and was relieved to see that the sobs slowly dissipated. Instead of crying, she was now shivering. From the slight chill in the air or from her nightmares, he didn’t know, but it was enough to coax him to hold her in his arms.

After a little while, she seemingly went back to a peaceful sleep. Childe smiled slightly and made to leave, but Lumine’s hand grasped at his clothes.

“...leave,” she mumbled. His eyebrows furrowed. He leaned in closer, and this time, he heard it clearly.

“Don’t...leave me.”

He stared for only a brief moment, indescribable emotions filling him, before he embraced her once again. Holding her close, Ajax whispered:

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I’ve been working on like three or four different fanfic ideas but I’ve never had enough motivation to finish any of them ;-; Pleasantly surprised that I managed to finish this in two days!! that being said, this is not edited at all so please don’t come at me with pitchforks over an error

this was inspired by a drawing by きの on twitter (hey sibling, stop breaking our hearts)

(Note: Childe has three names: Childe, Tartaglia, and Ajax. Childe is his alias, Tartaglia is his official name amongst the Fatui, given to him by the Tsaritsa (I think), and Ajax is his birth name. I think of Childe and Tartaglia as his facade, and that Ajax is his true self without all titles and such)

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #chilumi #chilumi fanfiction #slight angst #fluff?? I think??#no beta we die like aether when i get my hands on him #i finally finished a fanfic ahhhh

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dreamii-yume · 4 years

Note

but imagine..Stepbrother!Trey 👀👀

Trey had always been that reliable stepbrother that you were so fortunate to have. You never had siblings in your life so, when you found out that your mother had remarried to a guy who has children of more than one quantity, you were anxious but excited at the same time. Upon your first meeting him, Trey was incredibly comforting and knew how to settle you right in. His little siblings were still children who could barely talk and walk at that time, he had already taken the responsibility of taking care of them at an early age. Even if he was only two years older than you, he was already mature and you really respected him for it, making you want to catch with him very soon.

You ended up relying on him a lot too, since your mom and new stepdad had been going out since after getting married, leaving you alone with your new step siblings. Whether it was school work, house chores, and even consulting him during your bad days, Trey was the ideal big brother who had never failed to rush in whenever you needed help. Even if he went to such a prestigious school as Night Raven College, he still managed to visit all of you back at home for his birthday this years.

As someone who had been in his care for ever since you could remember, it’s just natural for you to want to do something for him in return. During your and your little step siblings’ birthday, Trey had always been the one who was talented enough to make a birthday cake for all of you. He even took the responsibility to make his own cake back then too, despite knowing that it’s for his own special day. But you didn’t want that to be the case this year this time, he even went through the trouble of visiting! You wanted to save him the work load of creating a delicious special cake for all of you by taking the job yourself.

“Oh? It’s a mess back here. What are you doing?”

“U-Uhm...”

But of course, leave it to you and your slight miscalculation of time to mess it all up when Trey himself appeared in the kitchen, the same time as you were creating the cake...Well, trying to create the cake to be exact. You didn’t want to tell him what you were actually doing and ruin the surprise but Trey knew more than anyone else how much of a horrible liar you are. So, you gave in and told him your plan, much to your dismay. But to your surprise, Trey actually went and laugh whole-heartedly, patting your head as an appreciative gesture.

“Really? Thanks a lot, I appreciate it.” He said with a smile that makes your heart all warm. He was just too nice. “...And no offense, but it looks like you’re just about to burn the whole kitchen off.”

Then, comes in your pout, you wished he just left that part out. There was a reason why the whole family left all the cooking to Trey and not you. Granted, you might not be the best when it comes to culinary but at least you have the spirit and determination to try...Though it doesn’t really help much when you make simple mistakes such as mixing sugar and salt together. Laughing at your sulking state, Trey adjusted his glasses and grab an apron for himself.

“Alright, I guess big brother just have to help his cute little sister out, huh~?” He said with a wink as he gathers all the materials needed, all measurements memorized perfectly in his head. Though you got excited at the thought of cooking with your kind stepbrother, there was a strange glint in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put your finger around.

...Maybe he was just as excited as you are?

Anyway, Trey helped you out a lot this time, telling you detailed instruction on how to properly measure your ingredients, scale the amount, and overall, preventing you from burning flour. He made sure that you were using the correct type of ingredients too, handing you sugar instead of salt this time, he even editted the recipe you found over the internet to create an even more effective one. A few egg beating and flour sifting later, it all comes down to mixing the dry and wet mixture together to make a simple cake batter.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mix it like that if I were you.” However, you barely even started mixing the mixture when Trey already had something to say. You blinked up at him, wondering what he meant and quite frankly, nervous that you might’ve done something wrong without realizing it. Again, Trey couldn’t help but to chuckle at how baffled you look, finding your expression to be oh-so cute. “Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything necessarily wrong.”

Then, you flinched as he went behind you, taking a hold of your hands, holding the spatula and the other helping you carry the bowl. You blushed at how close he was to you so suddenly, practically leaning your head against his broad chest, you can feel his warmth and it was making your heart race for some reason. “It’s better to mix it this way to avoid unneeded lumps in your batter.” He said, guiding your hand in an elegant circular manner. “Do you get it?”

You hesitantly nodded, face had turned as red as a tomato. He was unusually close to you that it was making you nervous, your hands were shaking under his touch. What’s wrong with you all of a sudden? Sure, he’s close but he’s your step brother, someone who had been a part of your family and you’ve been so close to. Surely, it’s just natural for the two of you to be this...intimate, right?

“Whoa there, What’s wrong? You almost dropped the bowl just now, you know?” You snapped out of your own thoughts as you lost grip on the mixing bowl. Luckily, Trey was there to catch before it can come crashing down to the ground and ruin the hard work placed into making that batter.

“E-Eh...!? Um...!” You stuttered out, unable to look at him in the eyes. He still hasn’t let go of your hands, so you have no way of fiddling with them in comfort. You looked down, trying to hide such a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. “Um, sorry...! It’s just that y-you’re really, really...Close...I-I can’t...F-Focus...!”

Trey blinked, humming in the most relaxed way, as if you weren’t panicking like a flustered high school girl. That’s making you even more embarrassed, he should’ve at least give out some reaction! “...Is that so?” Trey said and for a second, you thought that he would understand and give you back your personal boundaries. He was just that kind of person after all! However, imagine your surprise when he crouched down closer to you instead. “How about this?”

His voice echoed right through your ear, it sent shivers down your spine especially when you thought about how deep it sounded, like he turned into a different kind of person. “U-Um...!” You attempted to turn around to confront him about it, to tell him to stop messing with you but frozed when you felt his teeth suddenly nibbling down on your neck. “T-Trey-nii!? W-What are you...!?”

With the bowl and spatula in your hands, it was difficult to struggle against your much larger step sibling. He even adjusted his hold on your hand to grasp on your wrist so you wouldn’t be able to use them like how you want to. “T-Trey-nii...!” You called out, shutting your eyes tight, lips quavering as blood rushed inside your head. He resorted into biting your neck now, his tongue licking your flesh that you were sure that there was going to be a mark in there somewhere. If there was then hiding them from everyone else around you would be a challenge. That’s not even mentioning the fact that they might ask you where it came from, you can just imagine how awkward that can turn out! “S-Stop...T-This is- Nngh...! This is w-weird...”

You heard him give a slight chuckle, it sounded way too different from his usual big brother-like laughter, it gave you the chills. “Really?” He said as he took the bowl in your hand and spatula out of your hand, setting them aside before turning you around. You gasped as he trapped you between the table and his body with no chance of escaping. “Then, is this better?”

“Huh-“

Before you could react, you widened your eyes as Trey, your step brother, slammed his lips against yours, a bit too aggressively. He found a way to open your mouth, letting his tongue run around free inside you, not even giving you a chance to protest. “Mm...Mmgh...!?” You squeaked, pushing against his chest but flinched when you felt his large hands caressed the outline of your ass. With no other choice, he prompted you over the table, running his hands on your soft thighs in the process. He managed to hitch up your shirt, to create an opening for his hands to fondle your protected breast in.

You whimpered against the kiss as he slowly got underneath your bra, finding your cherry very quickly to stimulate them. His knee kept your thighs open, cleverly rubbing against your clothed flower until it gathers enough love juice to soak on. “Haa...T-Trey...nii...” You tearfully let out, hands trembling on his chest as he finally let go of your mouth to suck in enough air. “...W-What...Why are you...Mmgh...”

You couldn’t finish what you wanted to say, too overwhelmed by the sudden feelings that’s being forced upon you. Instead, Trey gave you a comforting but mischievous smile, one that stirs mixed feelings inside you. “Why, you say?” He said, lifting up your thighs, encouraging them to wrap around his waist, in which you unconsciously began to do so. You squeaked as his hands shot up underneath your skirt, feeling your wetness through your underwear. “You’ve been very good that it’s just natural for me to reward you, right?”

“B-But this is...!” You tried protesting, only to be hushed with his index finger preventing your mouth to go on further. Trey only smirk, invoking tears on either sides of your eyes, both out of fear and nervousness. “...T-This is wrong...W-We’re...We’re...!”

“That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the both of us experiences a good time.” He said as you breath heavily once he began to unzip his fly, your eyes wouldn’t leave to stare at the massive excitement he has down there. Licking his lips, he pulled your panties aside, just enough to fit himself in and revealing just how soaked you are underneath. You whimpered, you felt his twitching cock poked against your anticipating slit. “...Okay?”

Without waiting for your response, Trey took advantage of your dumbfounded state to capture you off-guard and pushed himself in your little tight hole. In response, you grasped his back and dug your nails against his skin, yelping out loud once you felt him enter. “A-Agh...!” You exclaimed, blinking tiny tears away as your toes clenched, your insides working hard to make way for his size. “O-Ow...! T-Trey-nii, it...I-It hurts...!”

Trey grunted, but still managed to bring out a comforting smile for you as he caressed your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “...Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” He said. “It’ll get better, I promise...Big brother will make it all better.”

You panted as your whole body twitched, you closed your eyes shut, clinging onto Trey as he began to move in and out of you. The whole procedure felt as if you’re burning on the inside, especially when he would slam deep inside you, hitting a very special spot. You didn’t know what was going on in your step brother’s mind to cause him to do this, but you chose not to prod in deeper. Instead, you hug him closer by the neck, whimpering as you waited for the pleasure that Trey promised he would bring. You don’t know what to make of this, suddenly being fucked by your step brother against the kitchen table as if it was the most natural thing to have ever occurred.

“(Y/N)...I love you, I love you...” You can hear Trey chant against your ear, the same phrase he repeats over and over like a broken record as he embraces you tight. You knew this was wrong and every time he thrusts deep, it fills you with shame that you’re even letting this happen. You said it so yourself, Trey is your family and yet...!

“Ah!” You exclaimed as Trey suddenly hit the entrance of cervix rather severely. All these action was making you unable to think straight, ultimately leading you to a conclusion that maybe...Maybe Trey was just not in the right state of mind after all? You could only imagine how stressful his life might’ve been in Night Raven, maybe this was just his way of letting out some of that steam? He had always been such a kind and patient big brother to everyone around him, you have never seen him sound and look so...feral before. It’s...It’s so wrong in a lot of levels and it’s indeed strange but...You did say you wanted to take some load off his shoulders, right?

...Aren’t you technically helping him out...?

You don’t know, but in some way, Trey’s thrusts were getting a bit more unhinged, way more aggressive. So, you guessed that it’s a sign that you’re doing a good job at it? His constant praises and I love you’s were getting louder too, it’s making you feel dirty, hearing him say of how good you feel but he sounds like he’s feeling a lot better. You knew it was wrong, that this was something shouldn’t do as family, but you can’t deny that it was making you feel good about yourself. That you’re somehow able to help out your hard-working big brother.

That’s right...You’re only helping him out. Just this once, it’s weird, but you can handle it at least. It’s your precious step brother’s birthday, after all, the least you can do is to let him do whatever he wants with you. With your body. No matter how...sinful and twisted it may be.

What are you doing, Trey Stepbro~? (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #trey clover #yandere trey clover #Birthday Crumbs (Trey)

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cringe-central · 3 years

Text

Love Languages

The Lost Boys: Seperate

Giving vs. Recieving

A/N: Im so sorry this took so long to complete. I just started a new job so things may take longer, but ill still be writing. The next fic will most likely be poly with you and the boys getting together.

David

Giving: Gifts

David enjoys giving gifts that remind you of who you belong to. He's not good with emotions so giving momentos, to David, is a good way of showing his love.

David gives gifts to show you that even if he isn't around, he's thinking about you. He also uses gifts as an excuse to take care of you. He views himself as your protector and wants you to know that he can and will provide for you.

If he sees you looking at something for just a little too long, he will totally pay for it, legally, with money. He definitely won’t steal it if that's what you're thinking. But whether it's gained via dubious means or not, it's yours. David is basically a criminally inclined sugar daddy.

If you make an off comment about being hungry? You're getting food. You tell him he doesn't have to get something for you? That's too bad, it's not even a question to David, you're getting taken care of.

David just wants to provide and protect, just let the boy take care of you the only way he knows how.

Receiving: Physical affection

David is very touch starved under all that angst, pride, and daddy issues. Although he wont admit it, he needs to be given affection, badly.

Before he met you it never bothered him, he had the boys and he didn't need more than that. But when you came into his life, and you held his face in your hands? He realized how much he missed being held by another.

He's never thought highly of humanity, but your warmth pressed against him and feeling the steady rise and fall of your chest under his hand hits him in his cold, undead heart.

In public, PDA is kept at a minimum with David so he can keep up his rough and tough persona. He acts annoyed when you get clingy, but it's painfully obvious that he actually adores it. If you want to force him to hold your hand he'll complain about it, but he wouldn't dare move away from you.

In private however, all bets are off. Chairs aren't allowed, you're either on his lap or laying on top of him. Worry about his legs falling asleep? Don’t, he's already dead, they physically can't fall asleep. You aren't going anywhere sweetheart. If you're standing? He's wrapping his arms around your stomach.

If for some reason he moves his hands away while cuddling and you bring his hands back, He swears he can almost feels his heart start beating again. He finds you adorable when you're like this. It makes David smile when he sees your look of mock offense when he takes his arms away from you.

Cuddle this man. He may try to act all tough and intimidating, but he just wants to be held.

Dwayne

Giving: Acts of Service

Dwayne likes making your life easier, he's not a big talker but he knows that actions often speak louder than words.

He's a vampire, so the biggest stress factor the boys have is being found out and staked, but other than that he and the boys live a carefree life. He knows being a human is often very difficult. Picking up on your stressors and helping make your life easier is how he shows affection best.

Often if you're really busy, Dwayne will pick up food for you and make you take a break before helping you finish what you were doing. If you feel unwell in the slightest he’ll be there in a second to take care of you. Dwayne is also very tall, and will always get things down from above without even needing to be asked, it's basically a reflex at this point.

It's not uncommon for Dwayne to finish those last edits of an essay you were writing. He'd do more than that but he knows you'd be upset with him if he did. If you worry about taking advantage of him, Dwayne assures you that isn't the case. Taking that weight off of your shoulders makes him feel not only wanted, but needed.

Dwayne needs to know he's taking care of you, he's never been one to show love through words but you never go a day without feeling it.

Receiving: Quality Time

Ever since you and Dwayne became a couple, you've been the first thought in his head every morning, wanting to get feedings done sooner so he could spend time with you.

Dwayne has a lot of free time on his hands and during the time he spends with you, every possible ounce of attention you could give him was given. He adored those long conversations where you went on and on about whatever your current hyperfixation was. Even if you felt as if you annoyed him by simply rambling about a topic, he found those moments intimate and special.

Museum and Bookstore dates were very common between the two of you. Debates and deep conversations were a favorite of his, you both respected each other and your opinions.

For museums, he would watch you stare at the exhibits in wonder while he told you of what history he remembered in certain pieces. Though he wasn't too old by vampiric standards, you would ask him all sorts of questions about the eras he's lived in. He's very quiet, but it's on these dates where you can get him going.

Bookstore dates are quieter, there was one a little ways away from the hotel that stayed open later into the night. Once a week, you and Dwayne would try to get there as soon as possible and stay there until they kicked you out. You would buy (definitely not steal) books and walk back to the beach or, if it was particularly cold, back to the cave. You two would then read them and discuss the book until the next bookstore date.

Paul

Giving: Physical Touch

Paul loves giving affection, he takes offense to any moment spent without his S/O in his arms. He knows his reputation, and keeping you close shows that you're not to be fucked with. Many girls may try to get his attention, but they will never be the ones on Paul's hip and you take that as a badge of pride.

Paul enjoys the summer, his cool body is perfect for giving a lot of cuddles during that time. The colder months are heavily disliked by both you and him because of you body needing to stay warm, but Paul gives the best hugs, to the point where you begin to crave his touch.

Paul's worst fear is you feeling ignored or unloved; if you two have been physically distant he will immediately rectify it as soon as he can. This boy will never let his S/O go un-snuggled. Every time you're upset you are swept into Paul’s lap with your head tucked under his chin.

When you're at the boardwalk, your hand is always in his or his arm is around your shoulders. If you two are sitting down then you'll be in his lap. The boys may tease him about it but he doesn't mind, he's proud to show you off.

Paul is a himbo at the end of the day, he's not good with words and has said the wrong thing before, but through his actions you are shown how truly loved and valued you are to him.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation

Paul is a very literal person, he enjoys when you tell him what's on your mind, and he adores listening to you talk. Listening to you talk is the highlight of his night.

Even though Paul shows love through physicality, he needs to be told the words I love you. The first time you told him those three simple words he became pretty emotional. He couldn't remember the last time someone genuinely told him he was loved, and here you were confirming your mutual affections for each other. He's so soft for you man.

You always tell him how much he is admired and adored as you hold his face in your hands, and Paul melts every single time. He finds a lot more pride in his clothing and hair after you rave about how amazing he looks.

He values what you say above everyone else's opinion, and if you like the new thing he did with his eyeliner you notice he does it significantly more. Paul is the definition of jokester, but when you tell him what he said made you laugh he takes it to heart.

Paul loves being a vampire, but sometimes he needs you to say you aren't afraid of him. That despite what he is, you still feel safe around him. Even the toughest of people feel insecure sometimes and you're willing to do whatever he needs to feel okay again.

Marko

Giving: Physical affection

There's a reason him and Paul are best friends, sometimes a bro needs a hug. And though his motto was always ‘bros before hoes’ something was missing. There was a level of affection he longed to give, but never could.

When he met you and he was finally able to give those romantic affections, he went overboard. Always holding you and touching you in some way, you weren't let out of his grasp for weeks. Any time you needed to leave the cave to go home, Marko would whine and beg you to stay with him for a little while longer. Any time he could convince you to stay the night, he would be ecstatic.

Marko is very happy to know that someone loves him for him, and he is determined to show that in every single moment of your relationship. If you had a distant boyfriend before? Destroy those expectations, because you got the clingiest vampire in the lost boys.

He loves to scent mark on you, a giant vampire thing, it's like a drug to this angel faced sweetheart. Having his scent melding with yours as you two roam the boardwalk drives the boy insane. Marko is very possessive, and he can't help but nuzzle into your neck or wrap his arms around your torso so that everyone knows you're taken.

Much like his best friend, Marko is also a himbo. He needs you close to him and if you aren't he becomes whiny. The next time you see him, you won't be leaving his grasp any time soon.

Receiving: Gift giving

Marko is an artistic being and he appreciates gifts that have effort put into them. Things that are bought are nice, but if you spent hours making something? He doesn't care what it is, he will love it.

If you made him a bracelet, he'd wear it every day. If you paint, you'd notice pieces of art taped onto the wall, growing with every piece you make him. If you bake? What you make him is gone in a day. His favorite gifts however are the patches you make him, sewing them on and admiring the intricate detail put into each one.

Everything you make him or give him is valued, keeping anything and everything tangible in a wooden box that Marko painted himself. He protects that box with his life, keeping it in the most protected place in the cave.

If you write him letters he stores them in the box and he reads them by the fire pits when he can't sleep, which helps him get some shuteye. He treasures every little thing you give him, but to Marko, you are the true gift. Each of those momentos being a simple reminder of the wonderful being who made them.

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #this took me so long to complete im so sorry

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

The Barbershop (Miguel Edition)

Angel’s Edition

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader

Summary: Miguel calls the reader to come trim his beard.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is my first time writing for Miguel! I hope y’all enjoy. Angel’s edition is linked above and y’all let me know if you want me to do more Mayans. I wanna spread my wings a bit.

The plane literally just landed when you got the call. There was nothing you wanted more than a hot shower and your bed, but when Miguel Galindo calls, you come. Anything for the king. At least you didn’t have to drive over there. Nestor was there at the airport waiting to take you to Miguel’s.

Thankfully, the ride was a little long, giving you enough time to rest and mentally prepare yourself to be around Miguel. There was an unspoken attraction between the two of you. Lingering gazes, blazing accidental touches, and little flirtatious remarks. None of which could be acted on because 1) he was married and 2) you didn’t date clients; it was bad for business (but you were more than willing to make an exception for Miguel.)

When you got to the house, Nestor took all your bags out the car. You told him it was unnecessary, but he just smiled and said, “Just in case.”

Miguel sat out by the pool, waiting for you. He enjoyed being out there because he loved how your skin glistened under the sun.

“Hola, Senor Galindo.” You greeted him tiredly. You wanted him to feel bad for making you come over right after your trip.

Miguel knew he should feel a bit of guilt, but he couldn’t as he watched you take off your jacket revealing how snug your tank top was and how it accentuated your curves. “Hermosa,” he got up from his seat to greet you properly. He wrapped you in his arms and had to resist the urge to bury his nose in your hair. It was so intoxicating that Miguel found himself buying the same hair products you used to comfort him during the lonely nights.

His arms around you were beginning to be a little too much, so you backed out of them and gently pushed him into his seat. “Couldn’t wait one more day, could you?”

Miguel unashamedly shrugged his shoulders. “One more day and I’ll look like a Duck Dynasty reject.”

“Aw, we couldn’t have that.” You teased, wrapping the apron around him.

The conversation with Miguel was kept light and amusing as you worked on his beard. For a busy cartel boss, he was surprisingly up to date with all the small town gossip. You probably had Dita to thank for that.

“How was Los Angeles? I got scared for a bit and thought you would get caught up in the glitz and glamour and not come back to Santo Padre.” Miguel was right, you were fascinated with LA, but only for a moment. Two days there and you were already homesick. It was crowded, there was too much traffic, and they didn’t even have real Mexican food.

“No, never. I love Santo Padre too much. But Chris Evans came dangerously close to making me change my mind.” The reason for your trip was because your work as a barber was getting more recognition. So much so that THE Christopher Jamal Evans dm’d you to shape up his hairline and beard. It was unbelievable. You cut hair of up and coming artists in surrounding areas, but you never thought you would cut hair for one of Hollywood’s biggest stars.

“Is that so?” Miguel asked clearly bothered, but you didn’t notice because you were too busy rambling about Chris.

Chris smelled so good. Chris was so much bigger in person. You felt like Peggy when Steve stepped out the pod. Chris was the sweetest. Chris had the softest touch. Chris was so funny. Chris’ dog was the cutest. Chris, Chris, Chris. If Miguel heard about Chris anymore, he would lose his mind.

“Oh, and he took me to dinner with Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie! Can anybody say choo-choo?” You were laughing at your own joke until you felt fingers in your core. To keep your balance, you had to grab onto Miguel’s shoulders.

“Emily,” you mumbled the wife’s name of the client who currently had their fingers deep in your pussy.

“That wasn’t the name I was expecting. Sure, it wasn’t supposed to be mines? Or better yet Chris’?” Was that jealousy you heard? Did he even have the right to be jealous? He was a married man with a child.

“We can’t, you’re- Fuck!” His fingers massaging your walls made it difficult for you to form coherent sentences.

Miguel was enjoying this. With a touch he was making you fall apart. “Hmm, what was that?” He continued to finger you while he massaged your inner thigh with his free hand.

“We can’t do this, Miguel. You’re married!” In between whimpers you managed to get that out.

Taking his fingers out of you, he made a dramatic showing of licking his fingers clean. “Sabrosa. (Tasty).” Miguel pulled you onto his, thigh, his face gentle now as he held your chin in his hand. “I’m separated. I gave Emily the divorce papers the day you left.”

His words took a while to settle in, but when they did Miguel almost laughed at you shocked little face. “You better not be playing with me, Miguel Galindo!” You slapped him across the chest.

Miguel took the offending hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I promise. I’m giving her a couple of days to get over the shock and read over the papers. She’ll sign them, trust me.”

His reassurance was all you needed. Squealing, you wrapped your arms around Miguel’s neck and smashed your lips against his. It wasn’t long before Miguel slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, taking control of the kiss.

“Finish your job, mi cielo.” Miguel ordered. You tried to get up, but Miguel slammed you back down on his thigh, insisting you finish the job there. Miguel’s hands roaming all over your body made it hard to focus. You let him know that he wasn’t playing fair and his response was, “You’ll learn that I never play fair.”

Soon enough, you finished cleaning up his beard, but Miguel didn’t let you linger and admire your work. “I think I need some moisturizer for my beard.”

“What?! I just applied some.”

Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to the couch. He laid down on it while he kept you on top of him. “Yeah, but you’re going to ride my face until your pussy juices soak my beard, mami.”

You still had you smock on with all of your tools in it. Miguel untied it but not before grabbing your blade and slicing your skirt and panties apart. “Such a pretty pussy and its all mine.” Miguel ran his fingers along your slit, making you shiver.

Gripping your hips, Miguel settled you over his lips. His tongue softly made love to your folds. You held onto his hair and called out his name. The devil had a silver tongue and knew how to use it. Instinctively, you rolled your hips against his mouth, riding him like he told you.

“There you go, sweetheart. Ride me just like that. Use me to get yourself off and ready for my cock.”

You followed his orders, but not without a little fun. Never being a selfish lover, you decided to dish out some pleasure of your own. Reaching behind you, you unbuckled Miguel’s belt and pants. His dick practically fumbled out his boxers. The way it slapped against his stomach, told you it was a monster. You got your confirmation when you placed your hand around it. How he would fit was beyond you, but y’all would make it work.

As you stroke him Miguel’s moans turned you on so much that you could see your juices dripping down his beard. Turns out your wetness was a good moisturizer after all. However, you didn’t allow yourself to appreciate it for long. Your attention was needed elsewhere.

Miguel was about to complain about his new favorite meal being taken away from him when he felt you lift up from his mouth.

“What? You’re the only one who can get a taste?” You asked mischievously, pressing a soft kiss to his engorged head.

Miguel smacked your ass. “Nobody likes a tease. Suck this dick, mami.” He thrusted his hips upwards and you welcomed his dick with an open warm mouth.

You prided yourself on being a good dick sucker, but with Miguel sucking on your clit and his fingers carving his name out in your pussy, you were beginning to doubt yourself. So many moans were coming out of your mouth that you barely sucked his dick. But when you did manage to get your mouth around it, you decided Miguel was the best thing you tasted. He was more addictive than the drugs he sold. And the smell of him…god he even smelled expensive down there.

You were so caught up in admiring his dick, that you didn’t notice your orgasm sneaking up on you, almost making you choke on his dick. “Imma have to train you how to properly take my cock, cariña. But that’ll have to wait til later.”

Miguel place you on the couch and took off the rest of his clothes. His eyes remained on you as you shed your top and bra. He couldn’t help but be amazed by your beauty. No matter how long he would be with you, he would never get over you.

“Querida, I promise to give you the world.”

“I’ll just settle for your heart.” Miguel’s soft smile warmed you throughout your body and you promised yourself you’ll do whatever you could to keep that smile on his face. “And your dick as well.” You began to stroke him again.

His growl and how quickly he jumped on you surprised you. “That’s why you deserve everything. You’re the sweetest, dirtiest little thing.”

Running your hands up and down Miguel’s chest and trailing kisses up his neck, you nipped at his ear. “Miguel, if you don’t put your dick in me right now, I swe- FUCK!”

Your cartel daddy filled you up to the brink, bringing a pinch of pain with overwhelming pleasure. Nothing could describe how good he was making you feel. All you knew was that Miguel ruined other men for you.

The moans and expletives coming out of your mouth was a boost to Miguel’s ego. Earlier he was scared that your feelings for him disappeared. Enclosing his hand around your throat, Miguel leaned down to just barely hover over your lips. “I bet Christopher Evans couldn’t have you creaming like this. Could he?”

“No, he couldn’t,” you whimpered. Miguel began to thrust into you harder causing your legs to shake uncontrollably.

“Then, I bet not ever hear another word about him or his little friends using you as a cumdump. You’re mine little cumdump and no one else. Entiendes?”

Tears were running down your face from how good Miguel was giving it to you. “Yes, I understand, daddy.”

“Good. Now cum all over this dick, mi reina.” Miguel kissed the edge of your mouth and intertwined his fingers with yours. The soft gesture had you falling over the edge. Miguel soon followed after you.

The two of you spent a few minutes in silence basking in each other’s glory. When Miguel noticed you drifiting off to sleep, he decided to carry you to his room for a more comfortable rest. The next morning when you woke up, you were grateful that Nestor brought your bags in after all.

Tags: @starrynite7114 @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @woahitslucyylu @marvelmaree @angrythingstarlight @teakturn @marvelmaree @thickemadame @dearsamcrobae @strawberrywritings

#miguel galindo #miguel #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel x reader #miguel x black!reader #mayans mc #mayans #black!reader #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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misora-msby · 3 years

Text

花火 | chapter one : moon

花火 (fireworks) | chapter one : moon

themes / warnings: medieval japan au (sengoku era), supernatural au, death, fluff, angst

pairing: kitsune!suna x fem!reader

word count: 7.0k

notes: part one of a series! it’s not 100% accurate to shintoism and japanese folklore but i did my best to research it and change as little as possible! still, i hope you enjoy this and stick around for the next parts too!

edit from the future : part two can be found here

Rintarou doesn’t remember how he became a kitsune spirit.

It was just that one summer day he found himself sleeping in front of a manmade structure (a shrine to the god Inari as he would later learn) with a boy of preteen age standing over him.

That boy, Shinsuke, would teach him and two other foxes, Atsumu and Osamu, how to do their jobs - protecting the priests, priestesses, and shrine maidens living nearby, and delivering the prayers of visitors to the god. It wasn’t an overly difficult job though, and more often than not, Rintarou found himself either running around the shrine grounds with the other two or sleeping in a comfortable spot he found.

A few years later, the three of them even gained the ability to shapeshift into humans. They were completely amused with how similar Atsumu and Osamu looked, and how Suna’s eyes looked almost the exact same as his fox form, though it greatly upset them that their human forms were much shorter and younger than that of Shinsuke’s. He had to reassure them that someday they were likely to grow to his height or even taller.

It was just a matter of time, similar to how they had to wait to become strong enough to become human.

Time, Rintarou would eventually learn, was rarely ever on his side.

It was a perfect day for a nap on the roof; a cooling wind blew through the air, preventing Rintarou’s robes from sticking to his skin. The sky was cloudy enough to block out the sun while not being abundant enough to make him worry about a sudden downpour, and the sweet scent of flowers blooming filled the air. Though there weren’t many bouquets in the area, a fox’s strong sense of smell could detect the scent of wisterias carried on the wind.

After a bit of twisting and turning to find the perfect position to sleep in, Rintarou was woken by the sound of footsteps and chatter. Shuffling to the edge of the roof, he narrowed his eyes upon seeing a family of six walking in.

“Today, your mom and dad are going to teach you how to pray. We want to pray for your mom and new sibling, okay?” a man spoke to the children who replied with a chorus of “Yes”s.

“Ah,” Rintarou remembered, “Inari-sama is the god of so many things… Foxes, rice, sake, fertility, agriculture… Why couldn’t they give some of the work to the other gods… we have so much work to do.”

He figured he might as well do his job while the other three were doing other jobs around or out of the grounds and began to inspect them carefully. Fortunately there were no malicious spirits attached to them, nor could he sense any by the red torii gates at the foot of the mountain slope on which the shrine resided.

But as Rintarou inspected them from atop the rooftop, he noticed the youngest child of the family, the only daughter, was rather pretty. She looked to be about his age, though he knew she had obviously seen far fewer winters than he had due to the way time progressed for him as a spirit.

Dressed in a red kimono with her hair just reaching her shoulders in a simple bob like most girls her age, he thought she was the prettiest girl who had ever come to the shrine. He couldn’t understand why his stomach suddenly felt funny, like it was jumping around inside his body.

Suddenly, their eyes met and that feeling spread to more parts than just his stomach. Big glossy eyes stared up at him in awe while his own fox-like eyes widened. An awfully warm feeling came to his cheeks and the boy quickly scampered away from the edge of the roof, towards the back of the building where they wouldn’t be able to see him.

Rintarou sat still for a moment, knees to his chest. He took in deep breaths while keeping his cool hands pressed to his cheek and chest. Was she a malevolent spirit?! He thought that could be the only reason for nearly every part of his body to be tingling and causing his heart to want to jump out from his throat.

And yet he wanted to keep his gaze upon her. To look once again into those bright eyes and to memorise her pretty form.

He decided to do just that.

With graceful steps, Rintarou hopped off of the roof and onto the stone tiles. His feet made no sound as he ran over to hide behind a tree and watched as the family made their prayers. He watched as she reached up, struggling to drop her coin into the offering box while his dainty but pudgy fingers gripping onto the bark tightly to prevent himself from running forward and tossing it in for her.

But surely an evil spirit wouldn’t go through that trouble with praying right? She had to be a regular human. Even the head priest was smiling at the entire family. But he still couldn’t understand why she gave him such a funny feeling.

Before he could be spotted again, he ran off into the forest to avoid her gaze which caused all these problems in him in the first place.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

A few moons had passed, the cool breeze had become warmer and the pink petals floating in the wind had been replaced by green leaves. The song of young animals had also left, the nights now being filled with the loud croaking of cicadas and the much quieter buzzing of fireflies. The air had become thicker and warmer too, which wasn’t quite something Rintarou enjoyed. But what he did enjoy was the festival occurring tonight.

Every year the humans would hold an extra special festival in the summer and launch fireworks. Though he didn’t care too much for the spirits of humans, aside from that one girl who he had never seen again since, he did care for their aesthetics. Whether it was the pattern on the fabric of a woman’s kimono, or the design in the pendants and amulets that humans wore around their necks or held in their pockets, he thought they were all rather fascinating. But as much as he wanted to go down and look carefully in person in his human form, hiding his tail was still too difficult for him in the sea of humans, and even if he tried to make himself invisible, children were so painfully receptive to spirits that he wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Strangely, he could hide his ears if he wished. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that their tails were directly representative of their level of power so they were harder to hide.

As he sat atop a lone rock in the forest, he could smell the scent of hot snacks wafting up the mountain. Perhaps he’d make an appearance as a fox and hope that some kind humans would give him and Osamu some snacks. They always loved to treat the three little foxes running around the shrine. He was lucky he still only had one tail, otherwise it would gain many stares. He guessed that must be a problem for someone like Shinsuke-senpai who already had three tails.

Rintarou hopped off of his rock, ready to head down and check over the festival with his friends, when he heard sobbing from somewhere in the forest.

With the way the orange sun had already gone to sleep, he knew that he had to look for the source of the sound. He was meant to be a zenko after all, a celestial fox associated with the god Inari. So while he wanted to just go down and have fun with his friends, he had to first attend to this matter.

Using the speed granted to him, it didn’t take long for him to locate the source. His senses were too strong to not be able to.

What he found was someone who he had never expected to see again.

“You…” the word left him in a near gasp.

You were the girl from a few months ago, crouching under a tree and sobbing. Your hair had grown a bit longer and this time you wore a light pink yukata with a dark pink obi. The eyes that had captivated him so easily last time were now red and puffy as your little hands rubbed at them to rid them of the tears which poured.

Rintarou crouched in front of you who hadn’t noticed him amongst your crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked in his quiet voice.

You looked up and gasped before quickly wiping away your tears and snot.

“I- I was playing hide and seek with my onii-chans… but it’s been so long and it’s scary and then I fell down and it hurts…” your shaky voice hiccuped as you revealed your scratched up and dirty palms. Looking carefully, Rintarou realised the front of your yukata was dirty too.

“Oh… Should we go find them?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t wanna go to them! Then I’ll lose!”

Rintarou pursed his lips slightly, wondering why you wouldn’t want to be found when you were injured. Was hide and seek that important to human children? He had played it a couple of times with the twins but it was merely a way to pass time to them.

“Then… do you want to fix your hands?” he asked.

You replied with a nod, your sniffling ceasing.

In reply, Rintarou untied the inro from the obi on his hip, a small container made of lacquered paper in which he kept healing salve, cloth, (and a snack or two) in the case of an emergency.

“Show me your hands.” he said, to which you obeyed and held out your dirty hands. The kitsune carefully took your hands and began cleaning them off with a cloth, taking note of how warm you were.

“Your hands are cold, are you sick?” you asked.

Rintarou looked up at you for a moment, wondering how he should reply. He knew it had something to do with him being a spirit, but he didn’t want to say that. “I’ve always been cold.” he simply said and applied the salve to your skin. After wrapping them up in a new strip of cloth, he tied the inro back together and hung it on his hip again.

“Wow, thank you…?” You exclaimed before trailing off as you realised you didn’t know his name.

The kitsune narrowed his eyes, not understanding you. After all, he had lived the past few decades around the same few people and had no reason to give his name.

“Um… what’s your name?” you finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh… Rintarou,” he said upon finally understanding.

“I’m (Y/N). Thank you for fixing my hand, Rintarou-kun! It already feels better!” you grinned and squeezed his hands to show you were already regaining your strength.

Though upon hearing his name from your lips and coming to the realisation that he had been holding your hands for so long, a blush crept up his cheeks. His eyes widened for a second though they quickly returned to fit his near emotionless state. “It’s nothing,” he quickly said, looking to the side to avoid your gaze, “Anyways, what do you want to do now? You don’t want to go find your brothers yet, right.”

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you want to play together?”

“Play?”

“Yeah. We can go to the festival!”

At that, Rintarou immediately shook his head, “I don’t like crowds.” It was a lie, he couldn’t care less about crowds if he were in his fox form but if he had to stay a human, he couldn’t bear to spend so much energy in hiding his tail which still had a chance of being seen.

“Then… what do you want to do?” you asked, pouting slightly.

He thought for a moment. What could you two do?

Then he sniffed the air. There was the smell of a match being lit but the absence of incense. His sensitive ears could also hear the sound of people gathering and shuffling about in anticipation.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something cool.” He took you by the wrist and you two ran side by side into the forest. Though he had to annoyingly slow his pace for you, you both managed to reach his intended destination in time:

A small glade in the middle of the forest where he assumed a ritual must have taken place decades ago. It was surrounded by purple wisteria trees, as if they created a natural veil to this secret world where fireflies floated on the grass surrounding a single tall boulder. The sounds of the festival were far away now, Rintarou was certain that his guest could no longer hear them with how far up the mountain they were.

“Quickly, climb up the rock.” He helped push you up the rock, slightly polished yet rough from years of rain and animals scratching upon it. The fireflies in the vicinity had become startled and gathered at the fringes of the glade instead of around the rock, but he figured it was a consequence that came with bringing a human for once to his secret place. Once he had confirmed you had a stable seat, he jumped up and took a seat beside you.

“What are we doing here, Rintarou?” you asked curiously.

“Wait a bit… there.” He pointed up at the sky where a flower of red and yellow burst among the stars. The loud bang followed two seconds later, making the girl beside him almost jump in fright before becoming entranced at the sight of more fireworks following the first to bloom in the sky.

Reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, whatever colour you named could be found in the starry sky. Bursting and blooming with brilliance, providing just a fleeting amount of beauty before wilting just like a flower whose time had come to be picked from the garden.

If you asked Rintarou yesterday what the most beautiful sight was, he would have said that it was sitting alone on his favourite rock while the wind blew on a spring day, watching the clouds swim by while joined by floating wisteria petals. It was a sight he spent every day of spring trying to recreate. But if you asked him today what he thought the most beautiful sight was, he surely would have said it was this very moment; sitting beside the only human who he had ever talked to, and who had caused him to feel absolutely captivated, watching the quickly disappearing and reappearing garden in the night sky.

However, all good things had to come to an end, and before he knew it, the night had been filled with a deafening silence, and the sky had become nearly pitch black with the new clouds of smoke.

“I think it’s time to go back,” he stood up to face you, “You definitely won the hide and seek game if you’ve been missing for this long.”

You nodded in reply and carefully scrambled down the rock, landing on the grass with a soft “oof”. Rintarou jumped down, landing with barely any sound before holding out his hand. “Let’s go,” he said and took your hand as you two carefully walked through the forest.

Though it was dark and late at night, the bright moon was kind enough to allow you to not trip over your own feet as he led you down the path to the shrine which he had already memorised with ease.

“Can we come back here next year?” you asked while squeezing Rintarou’s hand, “It was really pretty.”

“Next year? Sure. Actually, I live at the shrine so you can come visit any time.” He didn’t know why he just said that. He never really talked to people, so why did he want to do this now?

“Okay! I’ll see you then!” you grinned, and Rintarou gave the slightest hint of a smile back.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” a woman cried the moment the two had stepped foot onto the stone shrine floors, running over to give her daughter a great big hug. “We were looking for you all over! Don’t go missing like that!” she sobbed, stroking her hair and dusting off the dirt from her clothes.

“Sorry, mama. I was playing hide and seek with nii-chan.” you mumbled, allowing your mother to straighten up your looks.

“I know, he told me. But don’t hide in the forest, ok? It’s dangerous and dark and you never know what might be- Oh dear, what happened to your hands?!” the woman asked, inspecting the bandages.

“I fell down and Rintarou put medicine for me! Rintarou, do you wanna-” you turned to wave the boy over but found he was no longer there. “Huh?”

Right then, a shrine maiden hurried over. “Oh! (L/N)-san, I’m glad you managed to find your daughter!” she smiled.

“Onee-san, where’s Rintarou?” The shrine maiden cocked her head at the question from the little girl.

“Rintarou? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about…” she replied in confusion.

“Eh… but he said he lives here! Um… he’s like… just a bit taller than me, and he has black, no, dark brown hair. Oh, and his eyes are yellow and like… they look like a fox!” Despite your explanations, the shrine maiden still had difficulty in knowing the identity of this person until an idea popped into her mind.

“Since this is a shrine to the god Inari, do you think you met a kitsune spirit?” she asked, “Though kitsunes rarely appear as young boys, there is the possibility.” The young girl gasped and thought for a second.

“Maybe…” you glanced back at the trees before turning to your mother. “I’m sleepy…”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, dear.” The woman held her daughter’s bandaged hand and waved goodbye to the shrine maiden before turning to head down the stairs of the shrine and to go back to the main festival.

While this happened, Rintarou had watched it all from behind a large tree trunk, just out of sight. His heart felt funny and he wished you didn’t have to go. Even if you said you would come back, he wished you didn’t leave in the first place.

“Hey, Rin! Where were ya? We waited for so long next to the okonomiyaki stall!” Atsumu’s boisterous voice spoke, nearly frightening the boy who had been so deep in his thoughts.

“There was a human lost in the forest so I had to help them,” he replied in his usual calm voice.

“Ya never miss the chance to walk with us in the festival though.” Osamu pointed out while taking a bite from one of the many toriniku sticks he held. Rintarou stiffened slightly, knowing that he was right.

“She was hurt.”

“‘She’?! A girl? Yer kiddin’ me, did ya get a girlfriend, Rin Rin?!” Atsumu grabbed his friend’s shoulders tightly.

“Nothing of that sort…” Rintarou replied though his cheeks turned pink.

“Maybe,” he realised, “maybe my feelings towards you are in that sort of way…”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Ever since your first meeting that summer, you would visit rather often. Most of the time was either spent idly walking in the forest while talking about various topics, or laying on the grass of the clearing while watching the clouds pass.

Many moons passed and Rintarou was starting to despise the time he would have to see you walk down the road from the shrine, back to your family’s house in the village at the foot of the mountain. Oh if only there were a way to keep you with him forever, he wished.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on dirt approaching him.

“Rintarou! Over here!” the voice he had missed so dearly spoke up. He jolted out of his thoughts and almost fell out of the tree he sat in, but he quickly regained his composure and hopped down.

“(Y/N), you surprised me.” he asked nonchalantly, as if being alone with you didn’t make his heart feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

“Really?! That’s a first!” you giggled before squinting your eyes at the top of his head. The kitsune became worried, were his ears visible? Even though you two had been friends for almost a year now, he still hadn’t told you of him being a spiritual creature. He was worried that you would become scared and that you would never talk to him again.

Though those fears were dismissed for now as you began to grin cheekily, “Heh, looks like I’m taller than you now!”

Rintarou narrowed his eyes and stood up straight so your heights matched. “No we’re not, I was just slouching.”

“You’re always slouching!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Whatever you say. Don’t you have prayers to do? I’ll de- I’ll wait for you to finish,” he asked, rather relieved that he didn’t accidentally admit that he would deliver your prayers to Inari.

“Mm… I’ll pray later! I wanted to play with you right now!” you spoke, pleasantly surprising the young kitsune. “And I wanted to check something…”

Rintarou’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and shock as a hand suddenly lunged to his side before he felt dainty fingers stroke the fur of his tail. A flame burst from the tail in reaction to the surprise, and he could feel his stomach plummet to hell when he saw the look on your face.

You knew.

Instinctively, he jumped back about three metres, his body sliding on the dirt. His hands made contact with the ground, his lengthening nails digging into the soft soil. Unknowingly, his golden eyes turned a shade of vermillion while large brown ears sprouted from his head, no longer invisible, and his tail waved menacingly behind him. If it weren’t for the human form he still had, one would have thought he was a fox preparing to attack.

It was then that he realised that your body had begun to shake. Your hands trembled in fear and your eyes were watery. There was a light thud as your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, face pale as a sheet.

What had he done?

Rintarou quickly relaxed his body and stood up, embarrassed. His eyes faded back to their usual golden colour and his long nails returned to their usual length. Seeing no reason to hide his tail or ears, he kept them in view.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“I- I didn’t actually...“ Words couldn’t leave you, they only stumbled out from your shaking lips. You were still frozen on the floor.

“Now you know. And you’re scared.” he mumbled.

Oh Inari-sama, why did he have to fall for her?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Rintarou spoke and reached a hand out, hoping you would take it and stand up like you had on that summer night.

But you only flinched.

Seeing that, he knew your friendship had changed.

Rintarou turned around, his tail swishing with his movement before he sprinted off into the wood, fists clenched tightly in frustration.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

It had been three hours or so. Perhaps he could return to the shrine now, he thought. You must’ve finally gotten up and went home.

He had fully exposed himself right then and though he wished he hadn’t, he knew he couldn’t change it. All he could do was sit on the rock and wish to visit that night once again.

“Rintarou.”

Shinsuke’s voice, albeit calm, had never sounded scarier to the younger kitsune.

“That girl has been waiting for ya.”

“You don’t know that. She’s probably gone home.”

“She has not. (Y/N) has been sittin’ on the shrine stairs for two hours now, waitin’ either for you or for the sun to set.” Rintarou was surprised to hear that from Shinsuke. Especially since he had never mentioned your name to the other kitsune before.

“And judging by the time,” Shinsuke started, “Ya better hurry. She’s got some things to say that I think’d sound better from her mouth than from this senpai.”

With a nod, Rintarou immediately sprung to his feet and took off down the mountain, letting both gravity and his desire to talk carry him with a speed he hadn’t felt before. He came to a screeching halt as he came out of the woods, seeing you sitting on the stone stairs while fiddling with your little drawstring bag.

“(Y/N),” he called out, making you jump slightly in surprise to see him again.

You quickly stood up and began to apologise, “Rintarou, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that and I know I should’ve asked but if I did then I know you’d say you weren’t a kitsune. It’s just that I’ve been suspecting since last year but was always too nervous to ask and I know it was really stupid of-”

“Wait a second.”

The phrase made the avalanche of words stop immediately.

“You knew?”

“Well… yeah,” you admitted, “I saw your tail a couple of times and sometimes you jump really high, or jump from a high place and you’re fine. And you always make sure I don’t see your back, I guess because of your tail.”

Well. Rintarou hadn’t realised how many mistakes he had been making.

“I see… You don’t hate me or anything?”

“No way!” you spoke with a big smile. “I think it’s so cool! I’m friends with a kitsune. That’s just... woah!” you waved your hands exaggeratedly to show your emotions which you couldn’t put into words.

“I always thought you’d be scared so I didn’t say anything.” Rintarou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His cheeks had become a dark shade of pink now.

“Mm, I wouldn’t be scared of you. You’re nice to me, and you’re a zenko so you wouldn’t do anything bad. The thing just now scared me a bit though, but I know that was because I suddenly touched you when I shouldn’t have.”

There was a pause as you two thought for a while, figuring out what to say next.

“Then… can we still be friends?” the kitsune asked shyly, his heart beating with joy to know he hadn’t lost his friend and the girl he had feelings for.

“Of course.”

The two of you smiled toothily at each other as the sun began its descent.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

“Rin, let’s go to the rock again today!”

“Mm, sure.”

The summer festival had come again, marking one year since the day you two properly spoke. To Rintarou, it felt unbelievably short and long. Because of the way you visited almost daily, it felt like you had been an integral part of his life. Days you didn’t come to the shrine were spent lazily running around the forest with the twins or acting as Inari’s messenger while thinking about the next day you were meant to come. Yet knowing that you had only been there for one winter of his life versus the many he had experienced made him realise how short of a time you had been there for.

It was funny to think despite the relatively short time he spent with you, he felt like you were the most important thing to him these days.

So even though he would have to miss another year of the summer festival, he didn’t mind spending it with just you in quiet instead.

Light footsteps made their way through the forest, the loud laughs and shouts from the crowd below shrinking until they were no more than far off echoes. The path was no longer lit by the warm yellow festival lights from below but rather by the stars and moonlight.

“It’s just as pretty as last year,” you hummed, admiring the fireflies as you pushed back the flowers of the wisteria tree to enter the glade. While you had both visited this place often on your many visits to the shrine, you always had to go back before dark, so this was the rarest sight for you.

After climbing up the rock with ease, an experience you had gotten very used to after multiple times, you waited for Rintarou to jump up before settling yourself comfortably.

“Oh! I bought these before coming up!” you pulled out two small paper packages from your kinchaku, a small drawstring bag your mother made for you with flower-patterned cloth, and unwrapped them. In the first were four pieces of daifuku, and in the other were six small pieces of warabimochi. “I thought we might get hungry!”

Rintarou smiled and quickly picked a piece of warabimochi before tossing it into his mouth. It bounced on the edge of his lip before entering though, causing the roasted flour to form a little cloud, making a small mess on his face. You giggled at the sight of him coughing a little on the confection. The thought that even yokais like him could be dorky and mess up amused you greatly.

The evening passed quickly, far too quickly for either of your likings. As the moon and stars took their position in the dark blanket above, you two laughed and ate your snacks. It wasn’t the most filling but you two felt happy enough just talking to each other.

Though your laughter eventually died as the topic of what you were doing tomorrow came up. The once bright smile on your face faded and your gaze couldn’t meet Rintarou’s.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He asked, “Do you want to go to get more food?”

“My um… my parents said I can’t come back to play anymore. They said it’s no good to simply talk with boys anymore. And I have to start studying.” Your voice was soft, the topic scaring you, but the kitsune could easily pick it up.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“They said I’m growing older and someday I have to be married. Before that I have to learn to cook and do a bunch of tasks to run the household and well… They say the war’s gonna reach us soon and my family has a little land but we aren’t super influential so it’s especially important I marry someone good.”

He had heard of the war. A few domains away the territories were being fought over by some big warlords and while he didn’t know the details, he remembered Shinsuke saying it would likely change the course of history.

But to think that would affect you who were merely a child. You had only turned 10 this year… the thought confused and saddened Rintarou.

“They said I have to prepare properly to become a woman,” you explained, “So I can’t waste my time running around a forest with a boy from the shrine.”

“You’re getting married?” he asked. Why did he want to know that more than anything else you mentioned?

“Huh? No no! I’m just preparing to. But I really don’t want to. I hate it so much. I won’t get to see you in forever, Rin!” Tears came to your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

The boy awkwardly wrapped his arms around your body and patted your back, letting you cry onto his jinbei. He just had no idea what to say, what was right to say, or what you wanted to hear. Even if he had surpassed you in years he had lived long ago, his mental age was roughly the same as yours if not younger.

“We’ll see each other again, I’m sure,” was the only thing he could think to say right now, “Even if it’ll be a while.”

You sniffed and looked up from his shoulder. Your eyes met, staring at each other in silence.

“Really?” your voice squeaked, body still tense until Rintarou gently stroked your hair. Strangely your body immediately untensed and you felt at ease. Maybe it was a power of his, though you were sure it was just him.

“Yeah. I promise.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever even get to come back.”

Rintarou thought for a moment, what could he say? He was never that great with words.

“If you’re lonely then… look at the moon. And the sky. I’ll be looking at it too, just like we always do.” he replied, cheeks turning just a bit pink. He was glad you couldn’t see his face right now. It sounded funny, but he remembered hearing something like that from a storyteller at one of the summer festivals.

You seemed a bit hesitant at first but eventually you smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that, Rin.”

He let go of you just as the fireworks began to burst in the sky, prompting you to do the same. The two of you turned your gazes to the sky to watch the performance in the sky just as you had one year ago.

But this time, he noticed that your hand rested on top of his and your head was on his shoulder.

He never wanted this night to end.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Rintarou thought about that night often.

Even if nearly seven summers had passed and he had not seen you once.

He wondered if he would ever see you again, he wanted to see you again. You were someone he could never forget so he hoped you hadn’t forgotten him too.

He wondered where you were, maybe you had moved to a different village and visited a different shrine. Maybe you were living as a servant in that new shogun’s castle. Maybe because of the war you had…

Rintarou shook his head, that couldn’t be the case. He refused to believe it. He just hoped you were okay wherever you were.

As he sat on his rock, gazing up at the sky once again in hopes of today being the day you would return, he sighed to himself. The shrine was being quite noisy these days and he couldn’t be bothered to be around all the sound so he had stayed away. There was some sort of event they were preparing for, he wasn’t sure what exactly but he didn’t care that much. He’d deal with the prayers and such afterwards.

Until he sniffed the air and smelled your familiar scent.

Rintarou had never sat up straighter before practically propelling himself off of the rock to run down to the shrine.

He would finally get to see you again! He wondered if you had grown much taller than him in the years, as he hadn’t grown all that much since that summer day. He cursed his slow growth as a kitsune but in truth it didn’t bother him that much. Though he wondered if you had matured a lot and if you would still be willing to run around in the forest with him. You probably would, right? Just for fun? Rintarou would even slow down if you wished, so you would, right?

His heart was racing as he sprinted down the mountain slope towards the shrine before coming to an abrupt halt.

A wedding ceremony...

And you were the bride?

Even if you looked completely different, wearing a pure white shiromuku while your hair was done up and hidden in the white wataboshi veil, he could still tell it was you. Even with the heavy makeup on your now matured face, he knew it was you.

Rintarou felt his guts want to simultaneously drop out from him and to also come out from his throat. There was an intense pain in his chest and throat which made him just want to scream in utter agony but all he could do was stand among the trees, completely still and yet trembling like the autumn leaves falling around him as his eyes widened in a mixture of intense emotions.

“Look at that wedding, ‘Samu. We haven’t had one of those around in a while have we?” Rintarou turned to see the twins standing a couple metres away from them, watching the ceremony as well.

“Yeah. I guess with the war now people are getting married less.” Osamu replied to his older brother, “But that’s one of the shogun’s vassals’ vassals. Or somethin’ like that. So no wonder he can afford to.”

You were getting married to someone like that?

Rintarou stared at the man beside you - he was taller, stronger, and looked far older than he was, especially dressed in his plain black kimono, haori, and hakama set. The kitsune’s small hand crept up his chest and beat it lightly, as if trying to get his heart to restart itself but it just felt painful as he slowly crouched on the soil.

“You were waiting for her, weren’t ya?” Shinsuke’s calm voice spoke from behind the younger kitsune.

As much as he wanted to, Rintarou couldn’t turn away from the wedding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the smile on your red lips despite how painful it was. Words couldn’t express how badly he wanted to hug you and ask if you remembered him, to wipe the makeup from your face in the same manner he would wipe the dirt from your cheeks after you tripped into mud on those days you played together, to ask you to even talk to him once more. But he knew there was a high chance he would never see you ever again after today.

“Yeah. I was.” the boy sighed as calmly as he could, though it wasn’t hard for Shinsuke to hear the shake in his voice.

The four spirits watched as you and your new husband partook in the san san kudo, drinking sake from the three cups and officially recognising each other as spouses. Your family and friends cheered to see the completion of the ceremony. Smiles could be seen on nearly every person on the shrine grounds and as much as Rintarou hated to admit it, you wore a smile too.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have been the one to put that smile on your face.

All he could do now was to wish for your continued happiness as he passed on your prayers to the god.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Many years had passed. If he was correct, twenty summers had passed, though he wasn’t counting anymore. Twenty summers without you felt like an awfully long time, though time felt like it was flying these days. Certainly faster than the seven years before then where everyday was spent longing for you.

Rintarou noticed that the four foxes had grown taller too, though it seemed like he still had some time to grow. He had grown two new tails too. He wondered how you looked now. If he could he would have left the shrine to see you, but with the war going on more prayers were being offered than ever.

He wondered if it was foolish of him, but for nearly every day of the past twenty years, he had been clinging on to the hope that one day you would come visit him. Of course, your feelings would be different, but that didn’t matter. All he wanted was to be able to see you again.

Though he hadn’t seen you, he remembered seeing your mother come to the shrine about a year after the wedding to thank Inari for the safe delivery of your new twins. “That’s because of us!” Atsumu boasted once he heard the news (though Shinsuke insisted it was not). Aside from that, Rintarou never heard about you.

Until one day.

“Do you remember that samurai who got married to a woman from this village about twenty years ago?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“The woman passed away last week from some sickness.”

“No way…”

“Yeah, I think the old shrine maidens said she used to come to the shrine a lot as a kid to play in the woods. They liked her a lot.”

“Then it’s good they aren’t around to hear about her either…”

“Mm, I think so too.”

Rintarou’s skin turned to ice upon hearing the news. Suddenly his usual position on the rooftop no longer felt so comforting. His head pounded and his heart felt like it had stopped, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the day he first saw you.

He didn’t know what to do.

He just continued to lie on the roof, hands folded over his stomach as the once soft sky suddenly became a glaring shade of blue and white. Even if he closed his eyes, it hurt.

Everything hurt.

He continued to lay there for the next few hours, mind empty as he closed his eyes and simply thought of the sky and of you. Memories of watching the clouds, of climbing trees, of fishing in the little lake, and especially of the fireworks.

By the time he opened his eyes, Rintarou noticed the moon and stars had already taken their place. It was a sky he had only shared with you twice but somehow looking at it always made him feel comforted; knowing even if you two were far away, you were still watching the same sky, moon, and stars. Just as he said all those years ago.

But that was no longer the case.

He blinked and the twinkling stars had become blurry. Suddenly they had multiplied and the kitsune felt liquid trail down the side of his face. He laughed to himself lightly and sat up to wipe away the tears.

The once cooling wind of autumn suddenly grew a chilling bite as it blew a cloud to obscure the pale moon above.

As he looked up at the sky, he thought of how foolish he had been to cling to the hope that you would someday come back to see him, or to have fallen for you in the first place.

And oh how foolish Rintarou had been to think of the most beautiful girl he had seen whenever he looked up at the once beautiful sky.

#suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna #rintarou suna #haikyuu fanfiction #misoramsby

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