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sweetflanfiction · 5 months ago

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Asymetrical Symphony - Part 13

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I'm back!!! Some trigger warnings: death mentioned and some medical stuff (probable inacuracies).

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12

• ··········· • ············ •

The council met two days after Jayce found Viktor and yourself inside the closet. Two long days of having the big, broad man teasing both of you to hide his own anxiety.

At the beginning of the second day, in the afternoon, Jayce, Viktor, Esther, and most of the investors your mother had rallied had been called to the brightly lit council chamber. You, however, were barred as soon as you tried to get in, the enforcer by the door giving you a sardonic grin when he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently pushed you away. Your mother was about to protest, but you shook your head and watched the double doors close on you.

With a sigh, you walked back to the lab. You took your time, pleasurably walking around the Academy until you arrived at your destination.

The glove came off as soon as you got to the lab's floor, and the door unlocked with a flick of your wrist, the rune spoken without thinking about it.

The lab was mostly clean, and you knew that it was because of the council's constant inspection that it had been organized. You sat on Viktor’s worktable, careful not to disturb anything. He had some books on magic scattered with his own notes and writing utensils. After a few minutes of twirling around on his stool, you thought your time would be better spent learning about your power.

The books had different thicknesses and a variety of covers. Some looked antique, leather-bound, and gold-foiled, while others looked more modern with hardcovers and simpler designs. One caught your attention, mostly because Viktor had left a note stuck on it with your name underlined.

'Read!'

The small couch behind the blackboard seemed like the perfect place to read it. Pushing the blackboard out of the way, you grabbed Viktor’s blanket and sat down.

The inventor had already read the book, you noted by the little remarks he had added in little sticky notes.

‘More than one language?’ ‘Prefixes and suffixes. Try.’ 'Curse words? Cursing runes?’ 'Are the runes a foreign language?' 'Do runes have accents?'

You laughed quietly at the annotations. Sitting quietly in the lab was always a peaceful experience. The muffled sounds of the people in the corridors and the soft whooshing of airships going around were soothing. Familiar.

Time ticked by as you read until you found yourself closing your eyes at the words. Shaking your head, you decided to try some new things with the runes.

If runes were similar to words, then they could be combined to make sentences. You looked around the room for inspiration, and your eyes fell on the locked hex-core storage. You knew the cores and gems were either in the council chamber or in Heimerdinger's locked office, now a sort of secure room since he had disappeared.

Not waiting for someone to walk in on you with a blue hand, you grabbed Viktor's colored sticky notepad and wrote the 'unlock' and 'move' rune. Before you could flick the rune with a finger, the locked door slammed against the wall.

“That’s new…” You frowned, determined to try and close the door and lock it from where you sat.

You made the moving rune again, added the little coda signal next to it, and pulled. The door closed with a click. Still unlocked, though.

It didn't take you long to go through half of the notepad trying to decode what you should add to relock the door, and nothing worked.

“Fine…be that way…” you grumbled as you got up and walked to Viktor’s shoulder bag on the coat hanger, grabbed his lab keys, walked to the door, and locked it. As you were walking back from dropping the keys back in the bag, the lab's door opened. For a moment you were confused, not having used any magic, but then Viktor’s handsome face peeked through.

“I thought I told you not to enter the lab without supervision.” He warned without menace in his voice.

“According to my mom, I own 2% of this lab, and I decided that this couch is just that. My 2%.” You joked, getting back to the warmth of the blanket on the couch.

He walked inside, closing the door as he made his way to you, a mocking, pensive expression on his face.

“I guess that is fair. Still does not explain why you are inside the lab.” He got to the couch and moved his index finger around, mentioning the room. "Unsupervised."

“Well, I need access to my 2%, don’t I?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically and sat next to you, leaning his cane on the arm of the couch and his shoulders on the back of it. Without thinking, you covered his legs with the wool blanket, patting his knees.

Viktor looked at you with a raised eyebrow, and you shrugged, trying to look nonchalant at the friendly move.

“Has the council session ended?” You asked, clearing your throat and closing the book. He shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Whenever Salo starts throwing personal jabs at me about where I’m from, I know whatever discussion was being had is over.”

“Yeah… stain on the hexgate floor…” you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows. “And how did the discussion end?”

“The council agreed to let the Tallis Lab operate as is... under supervision for a while, but they aren’t going to interfere with it.” He played with the hem of the blanket and shook his head. “Esther was a force of nature in that room tonight. For a moment I thought she was going to start casting runes and making the table float.”

You snorted and leaned against the arm of the couch, looking at his profile. Viktor always had a striking profile, with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw.

“Did she ever tell you how we became friends?” He looked at the opposite wall, and you shook your head, making a negative sound.

“All she told me was that you and she had similar interests.”

“About… mmm… 11 years ago, before Jayce and Hextech, Professor Heimerdinger thought it was a good idea to give the engineering students something creative to do. So he asked Esther to come and give our analytical little brains some writing classes.”

“Aren’t you an inventor, though?” You tilted your head sideways to lean against the back of the couch; he nodded.

“I still think in numbers... It's different…Anyway, she would teach one class every two weeks. At first, I did not enjoy it; I could be studying or working, but at some point, I started to like it. My brain would go to these faraway places and imagine all of the things that, back then, were impossible. At some point your mother let us know her opinions of the Undercity, and after class, we spent a good two hours just speaking about it.”

“She does like to talk.” You joked, and he looked at you smiling.

“That she does, especially if she likes the subject. For one whole year, every two weeks I would be the first one in and the last one out. Sometimes she would let me read some of her manuscripts and ask for an honest review; other times I let her read my own school papers.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating? Having an actual writer proofread your papers?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I was an Undercity boy, with an Undercity accent and a limp. I was taking any help I could get.” He shrugged, and you snorted. “One day she didn’t show up. I asked Professor Heimerdinger, and he said something awful had happened to her and her family.”

Immediately you straightened up, eyes wide in curiosity. If his math was correct, and it was, this was about the same time engraved on the stone at the cemetery.

“I knew she had a husband and a child about my age. There was never an opportunity for me to meet them, but still, whatever had happened, I wanted to show my solidarity. So, poor young Viktor walked all the way to the penthouse, and once he got there, Voltaire told poor young Viktor she was at the Skyward Clinic."He sighed, looking at his hands, flexing and relaxing his long fingers. "A trolley had derailed. Her husband had died on the route to the clinic. Her child seemed to be in a very precarious state.”

The buzzing in your ears started to drown out anything but Viktor's particular speech pattern. The corner of your eyes started to tunnel around him. Your breathing started to become elaborate as you tried to hide your restlessness.

It had never seemed to be the right opportunity to ask your mother how it happened. She had mentioned the accident but never in specifics, and you respected her need to keep it to herself. People grieve in their own way.

Your father could never pass by the hospital your mother had died in, even though he would make generous donations to it. But he would always take the long way if the quickest path passed by it.

“I had little money to spend on frivolous things like trolleys, so I walked all the way back to Skyward…” He made his fingers do a little walking motion in the air.

“That’s on the opposite side of the city.”

“It is.”

“And you walked there?”

“I did.” He nodded, his own eyes focusing on something on the floor, his mind tracing the memory.

“Your leg... your back...” You were about to start to complain about his recklessness, but he snorted.

“My lungs.”

“Your lungs?” This was the first time he had mentioned them.

“They took the brunt of my stupidity and my lack of funds." He gave a humorless snort and took a deep breath. "Everything collapsed as soon as my brain figured out how much strain I had put on my body."

He tilted his head to you but didn't look up from whatever it was that he was focused on on the floor.

"Do you know what the gray is?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know what it does after long-term exposure to it?"

The question wasn't out of the blue, because of the subject being discussed and the person it was being discussed with. However, it hit you like a rush of cold water. You didn't know what it did personally, but you'd seen it on someone else. You'd seen it on his other dimension twin.

"Yes." You couldn't look at him.

"The respiratory system starts to rot. According to the doctors, I would be dead in about five to six years. But Esther…”

You remembered the day your Viktor had announced his own diagnosis. He had used those exact words, but the years were shortened to months.

That day had been seared into your brain. The way his voice sounded so strong and yet so broken, and he hadn’t allowed you to shed a single tear, even though they were flowing. ‘Save them for when I’m gone.’.

Your eyes filled with unshed tears now that he wasn't here to see them fall.

“I don’t know how, or even when, but I distinctly remember your mother holding my hand and crying by my bedside table. She said to me..." He cleaned a tear of his own, with the tip of his fingers. “She said nobody else’s child would be dying that night.”

It was like the air in your body had been sucked out. It held in your throat as your eyes widened.

“The doctors said we were a perfect match." He sighed, his eyebrow furrowing. "From blood type to size to the age of the donor. The chances of my body accepting the donated organ were above 80%. And Esther allowed it. And I survived.”

You gasped and followed his hand, which was now tracing a line of his diaphragm gingerly.

“There’s a scar right here…” He tapped his fingers in the lower part of his chest. “A reminder that death is sometimes inevitable for life to happen."

Viktor sniffled, closing his eyes, his hand still on his chest as it rose and fell with each breath.

"After that, we became inseparable. I will never be able to thank her for what she did, and if there is ever anything I can do to repay it, I will do it.”

There was silence now in the lab. The words he had spoken kept swimming freely in your head, fading into images of another Viktor coughing up blood and slowly succumbing to his illness.

You felt your body move on its own accord, your mental state not providing the necessary filters for you to stop yourself.

Viktor jumped when he felt your palm on top of his, on his chest, but didn't move away. You felt his breathing even out and even felt his little sniffles.

“You’re not dying.” You whispered more to his other self than this one, as if somewhere in the other timeline your Viktor could hear you.

“I am not.” Viktor whispered back, moving his hand so your own was flat against the fabric of his uniform.

You touched his shoulder with your forehead, a hand still on his chest, and you sobbed. There was sadness and anger and happiness and confusion; it was a convoluted mix of emotions that you couldn’t stop.

You were ecstatic that this Viktor was free from his impending doom, but you felt like your heart was breaking because your Viktor, the one you had loved and lost, could have been saved, could have had this.

Hindsight was indeed 20/20. This type of procedure has never been given a thought. Although something told you the Viktor you knew would never go for it. He had already accepted his fate. His death.

You kept asking yourself: Had you known then what you know now, not just about the Herald but about the possibility of you giving him a chance, would you accept it? Would you give your life for him? If you could?

Sadly, you didn’t know the answer to that. In a second of insanity, you just might, but if you had more time to think, the answer was not as clear.

And that confused you and angered you.

You noticed his hand on top of your own, his thumb gently stroking the back of it. You stiffen, finally realizing where and how you were placed. Half on top of his torso, your forehead on his shoulders, hand on his chest.

Quickly you moved your body away from his.

“Sorry…I... You tried to clean your face with the back of your hands.

“It is expected. Aside from this..." He pointed to the hand he still held on his chest, and you quickly moved it away. "Jayce's reaction was sort of the same...”

“Sorry…It’s…huh…hard, I guess.”

“Matters of life and death often are.” He looked at you, his eyes softening.

Your mind jumped to when you asked if she would choose you or Viktor in case of need and how her answer was immediately him. Since the subject was saving Piltover, it made sense she didn’t hesitate, but now…now you understood it more deeply. He had a part of her child in him. She would save him not just because of the future but also because of what he meant to her.

“Esther... she...” you said, accepting the burgundy handkerchief he was offering you. “She's very brave...”

Viktor smiled brightly even if his cheeks still had tears in them, and you did the same, seeing him as a completely different person for the first time since you got here.

Nature made them equal; nurture made them opposites.

• ············ •

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked your mother as soon as you were both alone in the penthouse.

“About?” she asked, going around the kitchen, having decided at 11 at night to make cupcakes.

“Viktor and the surgery.”

She stopped abruptly and looked at you as you sat quietly in the breakfast nook of the kitchen. You made a conscious effort not to show or sound angry, because you weren’t.

��I…Did he tell you that?” You nodded, and she leaned her hip into the counter, looking at a point in the distance. “It was a burden that I didn’t think you’d need.”

She sighed, coming to sit on the opposite side of the table with a deep breath.

“Sometimes I still struggle with the decision I made. My child was gone, and he was there, lying on a hospital bed filled with tubes and machines, and…it became such an easy decision to make back then… I sometimes wonder if she would think less of me because of that...”

“I’m sorry.” You grabbed her shaking hand after a few minutes of silence. “I…don’t know if it means anything, but…as your child from another dimension, I don’t think I could ever think less of you.”

Esther smiled at you and extended a hand to touch your cheek. You took a deep breath and waited. Her touch was warm and gentle, her thumb stroking the top of your cheekbone, and you felt a kiss on your knuckles.

“Thank you, my dear. It means the world to me.” She whispered.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

#arcane #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #slow burn #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x you #arcane characters #arcane reader

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thethronezone · 25 days ago

Note

The High Consort demands an actual proper wedding from Big E, and he accepts what will the wedding would look like?

First of all; location. Of course it's going to take place in the Imperial Palace. There's no other option. Well, there were, but they were all shot down. Apparently, there were no large enough wedding venues on Luna, so the palace it is.

A specific section of the palace is chosen and sectioned off for the event so that no wayward guests will accidentally wander off somewhere they are not supposed to be. Security is going to be tight. The custodes are treating this like its war.

The chosen section includes multiple gardens and halls, providing enough space to entertain hundreds of thousands of guests. Which there will be because the Imperium has a million worlds under its rule and that means that a lot of people need to be present to represent them.

And listen, the guests aren't required to bring gifts. That wasn't included on the invitation. But like, how could anyone show up without one? It's practically a competition between guests to one-up each other in order to prove their loyalty and to (hopefully) earn some favor from the royal couple. Multiple rooms have to be emptied to serve as temporary storage areas because of the multitude of gifts. Some noble brought a space ship. A smaller one, yes, but a space ship nonetheless.

Decorations? Decorations. Not cheap little trinkets either, no, they are breaking out the fine shit, the treasures the Emperor and High Consort have collected over the years. And it's a fucking lot. There are different displays of artworks and artifacts, most of them originating from ancient Terra, that the guests can admire and talk about. A retinue of magos go into an excited frenzy when they find an original Macintosh computer. When it also manages to turn on without fail the custodes has to direct the other guests around them as the mechanicus start praising the machine-spirit with full on religious ceremonies.

As for the Primarchs? Of course they're all there. Attendance is mandatory and so is good behavior. So no convincing the High Consort to bail before the ceremony (looking at you Mortarion). They are all expected to be dressed for the occasion so no wearing just any old rag (again, looking at you Mortarion). Some Primarchs adhere to these rules better than others. Fulgrim, Sanguinius and Roboute are all splendid examples, looking behaving like perfect sons. Angron looks and behaves like someone put a honey badger in a suit while Ferrus just showed up in actual armor. Shiny armor, sure, but that's besides the point. Fulgrim forced him to go change.

Speaking of Fulgrim, he practically begged to be part of the planning for the wedding. Surprisingly enough, so did Rogal. Apparently he had a lot of ideas of how to improve the structural integrity and security of the venue. Fulgrim almost stabbed him in the eye when he suggested automated turrets on the banisters, even when Rogal tried to compromise by offering to paint them gold. Malcador had to calm that entire situation down.

The ceremony itself is actually fairly simple. The Emperor and the High Consort exchange some vows, promise to remain loyal to one another and all that and then the celebration starts for real. There is no exchange of rings but they do kiss at the end of their vows.

#warhammer 40k #the emperor of mankind #high consort #adeptus custodes

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nonsscrapheap · 2 months ago

Text

TFP: Universal Obversations

WE ARE BACK BABY

so sorry for the long delay! i kinda hit a writer's block with this chapter and au, but i managed it after focusing on other things! like ttp and dofb!

i'm still very much invested in this reaction story so don't worry! there's a little bit of plot here- you'll see what i mean! but ON WITH THE SHOWING!

ACT 1: Show Acting - II -

[ ----- TP : UO ----- ]

The Nemesis

It hasn't been that long since they found the mysterious unknown relic and already it has caused more ripples within his Lord, within the other Decepticons and within him.

Soundwave had been similarly apprehensive when they found the unknown relic within the warship's storage unit, he had been doing a routine check throughout the Nemesis' camera system that he noticed the spherical object clearly through the screen in a place that he had distinctly remembered it not being there before.

Immediately on guard, he had called for Starscream to retrieve the object to be examined while he tried to figure out who stored the object there as well as what it was.

Unfortunately, Soundwave couldn't find who stored it nor how it appeared in the first place, even through extensive searching through the security footage there was no sign of tampering or any sign of someone breaking into the Nemesis just to leave the sphere in their storage room.

Inevitably he and Starscream presented the object to their Lord and Master, and as expected, Megatron was not pleased.

It was with an aching spark that he dared to counter Megatron's order of trying to find out who left the damnable thing with the fact that no one knew where it came from, what it could do, nor who left it in the storage room. The Autobots were, of course, the top suspects yet it still begged the question as to why? And how?

And then the sphere began to glow and it began to show things that were…

A smiling, blue-optic Starscream. A kinder, blue-optic Megatron. Arachnid gently handling humans. Humans on the Nemesis, not hunted down. Soundwave with green biolights and a synthetic voice and a visor covering the faceplate he was missing because Optimus Prime—

To borrow a certain Decepticon's (who may or may not be dead, he had his doubts about it because of a certain Seeker) usual phrase; it began to show things that were illogical.

Yet at the same time, it was, undoubtedly, fascinating.

They now knew the main function of the silver and gold sphere with Primal glyphs carved into its face, it was a powerful observation device, one capable of glimpsing into entirely other worlds. Universes where things were shifted, different, a world where it seemed like the morality between factions had flipped on its sides.

Give me your face

And now… now it was showing a world where Soundwave's world was of fiction, a play, a show. In a world where it seemed that humans and cybertronians were co-existing peacefully, unbelievably enough.

While Soundwave has never really found humans to be that bad, they've created some amusing things and Soundwave did enjoy a good amount of their music (music was music and Cybertron's music has stagnated since the war…) even he was more than surprised to see the flesh-made organics working together in such a way.

Or he would be if the preceding and more important fact of Soundwave's world was a show in that world didn't come first. His alternate was… so free and young. Showing his faceplate (he still had his faceplate) with a smile on his derma.

They all were so…

The 'actors' that played his Lord and the Prime, the Autobot femme scout and the spiderbot- they were all young and free in a way that Soundwave refused to acknowledge as envy.

He does not remember being that young.

He does not remember being that free.

All there was was Kaon, and the gladiatorial pits, and freedom in loyalty.

Loyalty to Megatron, to the Decepticons.

His optics, hidden behind his visor (he has his faceplate) dart over to his Lord whose own red optics are wide then they narrow and there's a curling snarl barely held back on his derma as the viewing continues. Only changing when the human woman mentions the words 'season one finale', immediately he and Lord Megatron understand the implications of what was about to be discussed;

Their future.

Important information that needed to be heard despite the way it was presented being… like this.

As Lord Megatron orders the Decepticons to pay attention to their near future, Soundwave starts recording the holographic screen, he was not going to miss one second of information from this.

[ "The natural conclusion of Unicron, The Unmaker, Cybertron's version of Satan- being Earth itself. Or at least the core." Caster finished with a slight laugh, sounding somewhat but only a little bit hysterical.

"Cybertron's Satan is the Earth's core, yeah." Jackson nodded with his fellow humans, "No one was expecting that." ]

There is a chorus of noise at the revelation as the screen pauses for some reason —

( "Jack, Raf, Miko! Pause the screen! Pause it right now!" "I- okay?! Why uh- SCREEN PAUSE?!" "What's wrong?! Why's everyone freaking out?!" "Cybertron's Satan is a Unicorn???" )

[ OBSERVATION PAUSED. ]

"-a trick! A lie! Earth's core cannot POSSIBLY be Unicron—" "-weet Primus, no wonder this planet is so chaotic—" "-at does it mean for us? What the frag do we— "-ashed landed on this Primus-foresaken planet—"

"ENOUGH!"

Soundwave stiffened, and while he hadn't been part of the cacophony of mutterings with his fellow Decepticons, he couldn't help but hold in a vent from his Lord's command. Lord Megatron's optics were glowing brightly, no sign of dark energon in his system quite yet, but there was a near-manic look of interest and a tight grin on his faceplate.

( Elsewhere, a Prime and a medic explained what 'Unicron' was to three human children. Retelling a prophecy of doom, the medic was quickly trying to figure something out on their base's console. It's a chilling realization as they try to comprehend the fact their planet is essentially the devil of cybertronians everywhere. )

The commotion is immediately silenced as Megatron turns back to the frozen screen with a newfound hunger. Yet there was some conflict hidden in those optics, a conflict that Soundwave was unsure about. "This blasted planet… Unicron is its core? Truly?"

Soundwave said nothing as Megatron began to chuckle, the other Decepticons showed signs of being discomforted but Soundwave stood still. Not even shifting an inch when Megatron's chuckle turned into hearty and harsh laughter, as if hearing a joke that only he could understand.

Perhaps that was the point, only Megatron had successfully bonded with dark energon. Only he could understand anything that involved Unicron.

"Soundwave."

Soundwave tilted his helm, giving his Lord his full attention.

"Whatever it takes, get full control over the sphere. Find the human spawns if you have to."

He added those orders to his priority tree, his tentacles unwinding out of his chassis to connect with the Nemesis. However, just as he was about to connect, the projected screen in the air finally started moving once more.

("If we want to know more about Unicron." Jack said grimly, "We're going to have to continue watching what's happening… so,,, uh, orb? UNPAUSE." )

[ OBSERVATION UNPAUSED. ]

"The Autobots clearly want to know more about this." Starscream muttered the obvious, why else would it continue? His intake clamped shut at the look Lord Megatron gave him.

Soundwave considered his priorities before halving his attention, letting his tentacles connect to the Nemesis while he continued to watch the screen and continue recording the shown universe.

[ "Like Orion said, big shock in the middle of filming." Venami told Caster, "We all suspected something was up with the 'dark energon' aspect of the show, we knew at some point Unicron was going to show up because- it's dark energon. It's Unicron's blood, the anti-spark, etc. etc. But we were expecting the usual depiction of a planet-sized planet-eater. Not, y'know, dormant Earth which held these little mongrels." She gestured to the human actors who just grinned at her.

"Speaking of dark energon, what does it taste like?" Polly couldn't help but interrupt, looking very curiously at the actors.

"No idea about actual dark energon but I liked the stuff the props-crew made." Orion said with an easy grin, "Amethyst-flavored with a pinch of bismuth."

Caster's optics blinked, "You actually ate the prop of dark energon?"

"Only the liquid form, the dark energon crystals are strictly visual props." Dion told her, "It's actually a pretty popular snack around the crew." ]

Lord Megatron didn't look too pleased with the way the conversation was heading on the screen, getting impatient with the lack of actual useful information being shown.

Soundwave however was picking apart the conversation for anything useful or at least interesting- the world of that universe was fascinating. Not only was the Autobot-Decepticon war had long been over, but the culture must have grown to the point that multiple depictions of old legends and myths were popularized.

'Usual depiction' meant that Unicron was a regular thing in Cybertron's media, or even Earth media at this point. The tales of Unicron in this universe were old, from beyond Cybertron's Golden Age and there were tales of Unicron as a planet-eating monster, but not many.

Thankfully, the conversation goes back to 'Transformers: Prime', speaking of events that had yet to come.

[ "Antonio," Polly spoke, gaining the young boy's attention. "Antonio, your character, Raf, nearly died near the season finale. We're all wondering- was he supposed to die and they changed it or…"

A brief series of clips showed as she spoke, of Megatron shooting at Bumblebee with Raf in the backseat with dark-energon powered blasts. Of him getting hit. Of a small hand slipping ominously lifeless in Bumblebee's mirror. Of the Autobots on some human military area, fighting and confronting Megatron only to look back and see the yellow scout forlornly stepping forward, cradling a small, pale and motionless body in his servos, barely breathing. ]

A dark chuckle comes from his Lord, a pleased look on his faceplate as he sees a possible glimpse of the future only to scowl as he remembers the words 'supposed' to being used by the human caster. "I'm almost impressed, the Autobot's human pets are resilient little things aren't they?"

( Elsewhere, both Autobot and humans cried out at the sight of their youngest being shot at. And the chilling scene of Bumblebee cradling a seemingly lifeless Raf. Said scout took Raf into his servos again, beeping rapidly. The youngest human tried to reassure him, his friends and the other bots that he was okay while the Autobots promised to never let what they just saw, happen to him. Not in this universe. )

[ The clips continued to show Raf on a gurney, vitals unstable, of being wheeled into a chamber after Ratchet took some energon from Bumblebee to use against the dark energon infecting Raf. Blue light shining from within the glass and Raf's vitals stabilizing afterwards.

"So sorry about that my boy," Dion said to Antonio who laughed at his fake-solemn nature, "Evil villain must be evil after all."

"It's okay! Well, we don't actually know if Raf was supposed to die there? It was just part of the script, you'll have to ask Rung about it. But he won't answer! We've all tried to ask him stuff but he's tight-lipped on certain details about his story!" Antonio answered Polly, "I didn't really like that scene- mostly because I had to be covered in all this make-up to look all sickly and almost dead. And I had to retake a lot of my scenes because THESE guys kept being too dramatic!"

Antonio gestured to his castmates, they all grinned and laughed. "You'll uh, you'll see what he means when we upload the blooper content we have online- we got permission to do that." Rumi mentioned, smiling and waving shyly at the camera. ]

"Even if the dark energon mostly being absorbed by the scout, it's rather remarkable that the human managed to survive long enough to be healed from it." Starscream muttered, sneering at the soft-sparks on the screen. He couldn't believe that this… 'Dion' was Lord Megatron's actor of all things…

He couldn't help but wonder about his own actor. Was he… Was he content with his life as such?

Meanwhile Soundwave was more focused on this 'Rung' that was mentioned, this was the second time they mentioned the 'creator' or 'writer' of Transformers: Prime. Who was he? Who was this mysterious person (cybertronian or human?) who 'wrote' the universe that he and the others resided in?

[ "This question is for the entire cast present; what do you think of the character you act?"

Almost immediately, three cybertronians and human children turned to look at Dion who leaned forwad. "Oh, here we go." Jackson said with an amused and exasperated look on his face.

"Um…?" Caster glanced between both sets of actors.

Orion laughed, "Pretty much all of us are content with our characters and have our own opinions of them but Dion… well, he's got a lot to say since the finale. Take it away Dee."

Dion sat on the edge of the cybertronian-sized couch, "First off- I love Megatron. I love acting him out, I'm honored to be able to, he's genuinely one of my favorite characters from the show. He's strong, he's powerful, his design is badass and if anyone has been keeping up with the show, they'll know that Rung also released like- these little booklets and comics featuring the backstories of certain characters. Megatron was one of them. We learn his old name was like- Megatronus, after one of the original Primes and- he was a gladiator and stuff, love it. Absolutely love him."

A comic depicting Megatronus of Kaon artistically standing in the middle of a cheering stadium. ]

Optic ridges rose up at sight of the comic, Soundwave felt nostalgic at the sight of his Lord's past as a gladiator being shown.

"Man I remember those days, went to see one of his matches before when I was younger." He hears Breakdown mutter to KnockOut, "It was- well, it was awesome." Starscream scoffed but looked at the comic with a calculating yet critical eye, clearly remembering the reason why he came to Megatron in the first place like the rest of them.

Arachnid eyed the comic with a snort, but looked impressed nonetheless.

Megatron huffed, but held his helm high with clear pride. Despite his counterpart merely being an 'actor' in that other universe, he clearly recognized greatness when he saw it. He should be honored to play his part as Lord Megatron in a fictional show.

( Elsewhere, an ex-archivist silently sighs at the sight of the familiar mech on the comic. While his human charges start asking questions of the past that he and Ratchet will answer. Only Ratchet could truly hear the sadness and nostalgia hidden in his tone. )

[ "Which is why I was so disappointed in him during the season one finale. " Dion said with a deep sigh, his castmates snickering around him. ]

There was an abrupt, short laugh (Starscream) that was quickly shut up from Megatron's furious voice. "What."

( "Excuse me?" Deadpanned an unimpressed medic- it was hard to listen to an alternate Megatron, actor as he was, say it was an honor to play him in a fictional version of their universe. )

[ "Disappointed?" Polly echoed incredulously, sharing a look with Caster.

"Disappointed." Dion nodded, arms crossed.

Caster leaned forward against her desk in interest, "Why were you disappointed?"

"He's disappointed Lord Megatron did the most illogical thing ever and knelt before Unicron and tried to become his servant." Cycla said sarcastically.

"Essentially." Venami nodded while Dion grumbled with Orion leaning against him with clear amusement. ]

"He did wh-" Starscream started to say but forced himself silent with a flinch at the deep rumbling growl that came from the warlord.

The Decepticon Leader looked incensed. Optics glowing a bright furious red at the floating screen showing the other universe.

( Autobots and humans alike stared at the screen, optics and eyes wide and disbelieving. )

[ "Look- I just- I don't like the thought of Megatron. Lord Megatron! Gladiator from the pits of Kaon! Becoming a servant to anyone! Even towards the Chaos-Bringer himself!" Dion argued exasperatedly, "It doesn't make sense! Yeah sure, the mech's addicted to dark energon now, which- okay, another thing for me to be disappointed about but seriously! He called Unicron master! His Lord! That's not the gladiator of Kaon! That's not the Decepticon Warlord who waged war for millions of years against Optimus Prime! That's definitely not the revolutionary who wanted to break free from his masters in his backstory back when he was a miner!"

"We've heard this rant about a hundred times at this point." Jackson said to a nearby camera as Dion continued.

"I'm starting to think Starscream was right in the show- those three years in space, in solace, messed up his processor or maybe the giant chunk of dark energon he found messed it up further. He became obsessed with dark energon and Unicron and that dumb doom prophecy in the show."

Orion spoke up, clearly very amused by Dion's words. "One could say he never really intended to become the servant of Unicron, that he was trying to deceive the god."

"I certainly hope so!" Dion huffed, "Still doesn't change the fact I'm disappointed in him. Hypocrite as he is, revolutionary to a tyrant, I love Megatron. I really do, but mech, he sometimes just… doesn't live up to the name he, himself, made." ]

Soundwave tried not to let the words affect him, though it was a little hard considering Dion looked so much like his Lord and played his Lord in that universe. An outsider criticizing his Lord's actions- he did not understand. He may act out Lord Megatron's role, but he has never been in the mech's pedes.

Unlike him, however, Lord Megatron was clearly affected by the words of his counterpart. Canon powering up, a snarl on his faceplate as he quickly aimed at the orb.

Even Soundwave was alarmed by the sudden action, instinctively moving away from the incoming blast radius. "Lord Megatron?!" Starscream shrieked, throwing himself away with Knock Out, Breakdown and Arachnid close behind. Optics wide and frantic.

Soundwave could barely try and string together a sequence of clips to warn his Lord to do otherwise, the orb was far too useful intact than destroyed! "Lord Megatro—"

PHWOOM!

The world turned bright blue for a brief moment, blinding everyone within the room.

However, there was no sound of explosion, or something breaking. Just a strange hum in the air as the light died down to show the orb… completely unharmed. A strange blue holographic shield covering it and the screen that floated above it paused.

( Elsewhere another orb glows brightly. "WOAH!" "What happened?!" "W-Why's the screen paused? We didn't do anything!" "Wait… who is that?" )

"Impossible." Megatron hissed, glaring vehemently at the orb, canon whirring to life once more.

Soundwave had to intervene this time. His Lord was obviously displeased, about to no doubt berate him yet Soundwave pointed at the screen in urgent silence.

[ "Oh my."

The screen was frozen over Dion's faceplate, a 'PAUSE' symbol stamped over it. The camera panned out to another screen and a thin cybertronian sitting at a desk in a strange office. Model ships lined the shelves on the wall, but the one that stood out the most wasn't a model ship. But an exact replica of a familiar orb. It was glowing.

The cybertronian in question was thin, lanky, clearly not a combative mech. He was painted in orange and white, with blue-tinted goggles covering his optics. Strangely enough, the mech had a spark window of all things, thankfully tinted though.

The mech was looking at the glowing orb and then suddenly he was looking at them. ]

Them.

Through the screen.

Soundwave was unable to explain how or why, but he just knew the mech was looking at them through the screen. And he wasn't the only one.

Weapons were being activated, aimed suspiciously and cautiously at the screen and the orb.

(Elsewhere, the Autobots were in defensive positions. The humans children being set behind them protectively. )

[ "Such hostility and confusion I sense, it has been quite a while since this thing operated on its own…" The mysteirous mech said, tapping the screen. "Curious."

Clearing his throat, the mech gave a gentle smile, "Settle down you all, I mean no harm. Even if I could, I can't. Your relays are incomplete, damaged. I can't do anything in your world, nor can you do anything in mine. My name is Rung, it is a pleasure to meet you all… Somewhat." ]

[ ----- TP : UO ----- ]

WE HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF PLOT AND REASONING BEHIND THE ORBS! SPHERES! THE UNIVERSAL OBSERVATION DEVICES! just a little bit because i desperately wanted to write rung- ever since i mentioned him as the writer of the actor au's show... did he write it using the orb? maybe. maybe not. he has a sphere of his own!

and he can talk to them! kind of. you'll see in the final actor au chapter next time! which will hopefully be sooner rather than later this time.

the highlight of the chapter was definitely dion's opinion of megatron- what do you do when the actor that plays you says they're a fan but they're disappointed in you. not angry, not sad, just- disappointed? also i find it, fucking hilarious. (i may have projected a bit to dion there about my disappointment in tfp megatron. its unreasonable ik.)

it's a very good thing the spheres have a defensive mechanism!

ALSO! i am going to PREEMPTIVELY give you all a choice on the next au they'll be reacting to after the actor au! just so i can prepare in advance. it won't be for a while since i do have other fics to focus on but here we go!

you get FIVE options. next AU reaction is going to be way longer depending on which AU gets pick.

im honestly rooting for Mecha AU to win, bc there is a scene there i desperately want to write but i can't until i get through the very end of the reaction. im just torn whether to write it now or later.

then again, Sparkling AU (No Mecha) is SO interesting. like hahaha, THAT is going to cause some d r a m a on both sides!

Criminal Minds Crossover AU is again, a self-indulgent thing for me.

Apocalypse AU... oo that's also very good. has a very good established MegOp I'd say, but very surprising for everyone to watch >:D

Sparkling AU (Mecha) is kinda eh, it's the weakest of the bunch, i haven't thought about it as much but it could grow if i decide to work on it.

also all the aus are STILL mostly centered around / will involve the tfp kids.

anyway, hope you all enjoyed! thanks for reading and i'll see you again here... at some point.

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#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #fanfic update #tfp #tfp uo #universal observations #transformers: prime universal observations #tfp soundwave #tfp megatron #tfp kids #reaction fic

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vantetaes · 2 months ago

Text

BIRTHDAY CRASHER🫧🥂

TEACHER NANAMI X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! parent teacher part 2 (this was longer in reality but tumblr didn’t let me post up to a certain amount 💔) WARNINGS!!! passionate, romantic, pretty minimal smut, 18+!!

the flourishing backyard is a flurry of movement. the sun creeping higher in the sky as you and mrs. okoye rush to pull everything together before the first guests arrive.

the air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the sugary sweetness of the cake that was delivered just an hour ago, now sitting in the shade of the patio, waiting to be unveiled.

“madam, where do you want these balloons?” mrs. okoye calls out, already tying a bundle of red balloons to the posts near the pool. her accent lilts with urgency, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead from the heat and the frantic pace you’ve both been moving at all morning

you pause, scanning the massive backyard. the caterers are setting up the food stations, the bounce house is inflated and wobbling slightly in the breeze, and the small tables are covered in bright blue, red, and yellow linens. a mountain of gifts sits on a separate table, wrapped in colorful paper, some with ribbons, some just shoved in gift bags by last-minute shoppers.

and right behind the pool, the dinner table. a large, long rectangular table, able to fit your 150+ guests.

“spread them out.” you say quickly, adjusting one of the large banners that reads happy 7th birthday, yuji! in bold, playful letters.

“some by the entrance, some near the dessert table. oh, and a few around the game area.”

mrs. okoye nods, already moving, her hands deftly securing the balloons before rushing back to grab another bundle. you take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders.

your estate’s backyard is beyond massive. landscaped to perfection, with a sparkling pool, an outdoor lounge, and even a small garden section with a fire pit where the adults will likely congregate with their glasses of wine while the kids run wild.

“madam, did you check the cake?” mrs. okoye asks, brushing past you, her tone pointed.

“yes, it’s perfect. three tiers, just how he wanted. chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. he’s the pickiest seven year old i know.” you sigh, pushing your hair back.

she hums approvingly before glancing around. “where is he anyhow?”

“inside, getting dressed.” you say, shaking your head.

“probably making a mess.”

mrs. okoye chuckles but doesn’t pause in her movements.

you check the gold watch sitting on your wrist. less than thirty minutes before the guests start trickling in.

the face painters are setting up, placing their colors and brushes up. the dj is testing the speakers, playing some songs softly momentarily, and the scent of premium grilled meat wafts through the air as the chef checks on the mini sliders, steaks, and chicken skewers. everything is coming together, but the pace has your pulse racing.

“oh, madam, the piñata!” mrs. okoye gasps suddenly, eyes wide.

“shit- shit! go grab the giant bags of candy from the kitchen please, i’ll get it.” you mutter, spinning on your heel. the piñata.

yuji specifically asked for a giant one shaped like his favorite superhero, and you’d been so focused on everything else that you nearly forgot about it.

you rush toward the patio storage, throwing open the doors, scanning the shelves until you spot it, the oversized superman piñata grinning down at you.

“got it!” you call, lifting it down with a grunt. mrs. okoye rushes over to help you carry it, muttering something about how you need more staff for events like this, but you’re too focused on making sure everything is in place.

the sound of little feet pattering on tile makes you glance up just in time to see yuji bursting out of the house, arms flailing, excitement practically vibrating off of him. he’s wearing the superman outfit he begged you to buy. his face lights up when he sees everything.

“mom! this is so cool! i love you! thank you!” he shouts, rushing over to hug you. his smaller frame wrapping around your hips as he jumps a little in excitement.

“i’m glad you like it baby, everyone will be here soon so you can go play with your cousins but DONT get dirty, yuji! i’m not joking!” with the last few words coming out of your mouth, he sprung for the bouncy house preoccupied with his a few of his family members.

before you could take in deep breath, the doorbell rings. mrs. okoye stares at you for a second before giving you a slight tap on the shoulder.

“only for today.”

the outdoor space fills up quickly, the air buzzing with laughter and conversation as parents mingle near the cocktail bar and kids swarm the bounce house, the game stations, and the dessert table. many of them carrying treat bags too full for their own good.

the dj has the music at a perfect volume. upbeat but not too loud, blending seamlessly with the sounds of running feet and bursts of high-pitched excitement. the sun filters through the swaying trees, casting shifting shadows across the sprawling lawn.

yuji is in his element, darting from one group of friends to the next, his superhero cape flapping carelessly behind him. his cousins, already deep in an intense water gun fight, scream as they take cover behind the oversized bean bags scattered around the yard.

you barely have a second to breathe, moving between guests, making sure everyone is comfortable.

family members have set up in clusters, your aunties sipping from wine glasses while side-eyeing the younger parents who keep sneaking glances at the well-dressed fathers.

“no, that one showed up alone! he looks good in that tux.”

mrs. okoye, despite earlier exhaustion, is still moving like a force of nature, keeping the food stations stocked and ensuring no child goes without a slice of pizza or a handful of candy.

“i’m so glad to know they get along! brandon’s been going on and on about this party for weeks!”

“yuji loves brandon! gosh, you should’ve been here for the past four months, planning this party was like working a part time job! and i wasn’t getting paid.”

“we should plan a slumber party for his whole class! i wouldn’t mind staying in a house as massive as this for a weekend!” the mother tried to hint, laughing.

you’re mid-conversation with one of the moms from yuji’s class when a familiar voice cuts through the warm afternoon air.

“it looks like quite the party.”

you turn, and there he is.

nanami.

he stands at the edge of the patio, hands in the pockets of his neatly tailored slacks, eyes sweeping over the scene with quiet observation. he’s not dressed as formally as usual. no suit jacket, just a crisp button-down with the sleeves pushed up, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms. his tie is gone, the top two buttons undone. golden hair slightly tousled, whether from the breeze or the day itself, you’re not sure.

but what you do know is that his presence does something to the air around you, like the party itself shifts slightly, bending around the weight of his gaze.

“didn’t expect to see you here.” you joke, raising a brow, tilting your head. you break away from the other woman, moving closer to the man.

he steps forward, the corner of his mouth lifting in the barest hint of a smirk.

“yuji wouldn’t stop reminding me or the class about it.” he flashes a small red envelope with nanamis name scribbled across the top. yuji suggested doing it himself.

you exhale a small laugh, glancing over at your son, who is currently shrieking with laughter as he dodges a foam ball in an intense round of dodgeball.

nanamis mesmerized by you. you sported a blue ‘S’ corset and red pleated skirt to replicate superwoman. per your sons wishes. he couldn’t help but stare at how the deep blue corset was supporting you. a slight sheen of the days work making your skin glow in the sun. your gold jewelry shining.

“yeah, that sounds about right.”

nanami follows your gaze, his expression softening just slightly before he turns back to you.

“i didn’t want to show up empty-handed.” he says, lifting a sleek red gift bag in his right hand. yujis name in big bold black letters.

“i hope he likes it, he’s been stuck on it for a couple months now so i think it’s appropriate.”

you take the bag, glancing inside. a beautifully bound book on space, planets, and the universe, something yuji’s been obsessing over lately. it’s thoughtful. personal. more than you would’ve expected from the usually reserved man in front of you.

instinctively, you look up at the man, standing slightly on the tiptoes of your heels, placing a kiss on his lips. a faint red tint appears immediately as he scans the surrounding guests.

for the past half year that has been your normal, kissing the man whenever you felt. vise versa. from small planned dates at nanamis apartment to bigger dates also planned by the gentleman.

you’ve gotten to know a lot more of him. but yet, you remained ‘friends’.

although somehow you were forgetting everyone in your child class was attending a party in your backyard right now and anyone could’ve seen you.

something unreadable flickers across his face as he watches you close the bag back, but before either of you can say anything, a loud voice cuts through.

“mr. nanami!”

yuji, sweaty and out of breath, launches himself toward his teacher, grinning wide. nanami catches him easily, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder. hand ruffling his curly locks.

“you made it! did you see my cake? it’s huge!” yuji practically vibrates with excitement and a sugar rush.

nanami nods, amusement playing at the edge of his usually serious expression.

“i did. very impressive. im so jealous of how cool you are at seven.”

yuji beams, then grabs nanami’s hand, already pulling him toward the game area.

“you have to play at least one round of dodgeball. everyone has to play! mom even played!”

nanami glances at you, as if seeking permission, but you just fold your arms and smirk.

“i did. you heard the birthday boy.”

a rare, almost resigned chuckle rumbles from his chest before he lets yuji drag him toward the chaos, his sleeves already getting rolled up further.

mrs. okoye suddenly appears beside you, watching nanami get roped into the game with an arched brow. she clicks her tongue, arms folded.

“well, well. looks like mr. serious is not so serious after all.” she muses, eyes twinkling.

you huff a quiet laugh, watching as nanami effortlessly dodges a foam ball, barely breaking a sweat while yuji and the other kids launch an all-out attack.

despite his usual reserved demeanor, he plays along just enough to keep them entertained, occasionally catching a ball and tossing it back with calculated ease.

“he’s cheating! mr. nanami, it’s ’cause you’re tall!”

but the moment can’t last forever.

“madam, it’s time for the cake.” mrs. okoye reminds you, glancing at her watch.

you nod, smoothing your blue pleated skirt down, already stepping forward. raising your voice just enough to be heard over the noise, you call out.

“everyone! time to sing happy birthday!”

the shift is immediate. kids abandon their games, parents gather around, and yuji’s eyes go wide with excitement as he sprints toward the long table where the massive, three-tiered cake sits.

the dj lowers the music to a soft hum.

mrs. okoye is just about to light the candle, sparking the lighter, when the atmosphere shifts. you don’t even see him at first. you feel it.

the weight of an uninvited presence pressing against the warm, easy energy of the party. the adults, the ones who know, sense it too. a few of your family members exchange glances, tension rippling outward in quiet waves.

then you hear him.

“tch. all this for a seven-year-old? spoiling him already, huh?”

your jaw tightens before you even turn around.

ryomen sukuna.

he stands at the edge of the patio, the audacity of his presence alone sending a ripple of unease through the gathered crowd. despite the casual smirk on his face, his crimson eyes scan the scene with sharp calculation. the tattoos on his arms peek out from beneath the sleeves of his dark crewneck. his stance is lazy, almost bored, but you know him. you know him. nothing about this is casual.

yuji hasn’t seen him yet. he’s still grinning at the cake, bouncing on his heels, waiting for the candle to be lit.

but you? you’re already stepping forward, keeping your voice low and controlled.

“and what the hell are you doing here? how did you even get through security?”

sukuna tsks, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“c’mon, sweetheart. my own son’s birthday? you didn’t think i’d show? you look good in this lil thing.” he reaches for your corset, earning a swat on top of his hand. he pulls back, a smirk planted across his lips.

“no, actually, i didn’t.” you bite back, voice tight. catching a faint smell of vodka on the man’s breath.

“seeing as how you haven’t since i gave birth to him! you don’t get to just show up when it’s convenient for you.”

“relax. i’m not here to start shit. just wanted to see my kid.” his smirk widens, as if he enjoys the fire in your voice.

mrs. okoye and another staff is already by your side, her usual warmth replaced with steely disapproval.

“this is not the time for drama, sir.” she says, firm and unshaken, hands crossed in-front of her.

“there are children here.”

“exactly. my child is here.” sukuna slurring hums, tilting his head.

“so why don’t we just keep things civil?” his frame hovers over both you and your nanny. air of intimidation building.

you exhale sharply, gripping your wrist to keep from balling your hands into fists. your gaze flickers over to where nanami stands just a few feet away, silent but unmoving. his posture is rigid, jaw locked, golden eyes fixed on sukuna with something unreadable in them.

of course, he doesn’t say anything. not in front of yuji. but you can feel the weight of his stare, the quiet, simmering disapproval rolling off of him like a second skin.

yuji finally notices the shift in the energy, turning to see what’s going on. the moment his eyes land on his father, his face flickers through emotions too fast to catch. shock. uncertainty. then, a hesitant sort of excitement.

“daddy?”

your chest tightens.

sukuna’s grin softens just enough to look almost real.

“hey, kid. happy birthday.”

yuji hesitates for only a second before stepping forward. your stomach twists as sukuna crouches, ruffling his son’s curly hair as if he hasn’t missed years of his life. like he hasn’t been an inconsistent, looming shadow rather than an actual father.

“you made it.” yuji says, and there’s something fragile in his voice that makes you want to pull him back. shield him.

but this isn’t your moment. it’s his.

sukuna glances up at you, something smug in his expression, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“so? we cutting this cake or what?”

your fingers curl into your palm. you should kick him out. you should tell him to leave before he ruins everything. but one look at yuji. his hopeful little face, his wide, expectant eyes, and you know you can’t. not without breaking your son’s heart.

so, you swallow the lump in your throat, turn back to mrs. okoye, and nod.

“light the candle.”

“yes, madam.”

you shuffle back to your original spot beside yuji, nanami shifts beside you, just barely, but you feel it. the restrained tension, the silent question lingering between you two.

but this isn’t the time.

so, as the flame flickers to life and everyone starts singing happy birthday, you keep your back straight, your expression unreadable. even as sukuna’s presence lingers too close, even as nanami’s stare burns into your side.

“happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you!”

you can deal with this later.

“happy birthday dear yujiiiii… happy birthday to you!”

right now, this is still yuji’s day. and you refuse to let anyone ruin it.

the long dinner table stretches across the backyard, illuminated by the soft glow of string lights swaying in the evening breeze and seven tall white candles lit. plates are full, glasses clink, and laughter rings through the air as everyone settles in to eat.

the caterers have outdone themselves. platters of grilled meats, buttery rolls, and vibrant salads are being passed around while the kids dig into their plates with the reckless abandon of seven-year-olds who have spent the entire day running wild.

yuji sits at the center of it all with his friends, happily stuffing his face, his eyes still sparkling from the day’s excitement. barbecue sauce and cake icing smeared all over his cheeks and chin.

it should be perfect.

but then, he stands up.

“alright, alright!” sukuna drawls, casually wiping his mouth with a napkin before tossing it onto the table.

“if i could get everyone’s attention for a second.”

the easy flow of conversation falters. you feel it before you even look up. the ripple of hesitation, the tension stretching across the table as eyes flicker between you and him, as if waiting to see how you’ll react.

you set your fork down slowly, glancing up, already bracing yourself.

sukuna’s smirking, of course. one arm slung over the back of his chair, the other gesturing loosely as if this is just another casual moment he’s entitled to insert himself into.

“i just wanted to say a few words.” he continues, ignoring the way half the table is now visibly uncomfortable.

“about my son.”

the word is deliberate. heavy. a not-so-subtle reminder of his presence, of his claim, no matter how inconsistent it may be.

yuji looks up, mid-bite, eyes flickering between you and sukuna, uncertain but hopeful.

“first of all!” sukuna says, raising his glass. water, thank god, though you don’t doubt he’d make a spectacle even if it weren’t.

”happy birthday, kid. seven years old. damn, you’re getting big.”

yuji grins, swallowing his food. “i know, right?”

“watch your mouth.” your aunt bites.

some chuckles scatter through the table, mostly from the family members who have long since stopped trying to challenge sukuna’s presence. you, however, remain silent, watching him carefully.

“now, i know i haven’t always been around as much as i should.” sukuna continues, shifting his weight slightly.

a sharp scoff comes from your aunt down the table. she doesn’t even bother to hide it. you have to fight the urge to smirk.

sukuna ignores her.

“but, y’know, life’s crazy. things happen. doesn’t mean i don’t care. doesn’t mean i don’t—”

“that’s enough.”

the voice isn’t yours.

it’s nanami’s.

the quiet clinking of silverware ceases entirely as all eyes snap to him. he hasn’t moved much. still sitting straight-backed, his plate half-finished, but there’s something dangerous in his expression. something measured.

his gaze is locked on sukuna, sharp and unwavering. not aggressive, not loud. but firm. final.

sukuna raises a brow, slow and mocking. “oh? got something to say, teacher?”

nanami sets his napkin down neatly beside his plate before exhaling through his nose, as if he’s debating whether this is even worth his time. when he finally speaks, his voice is calm. level.

“with all due respect to ms. ln. this is a child’s birthday dinner. not an opportunity for you to soothe your conscience.”

the words land like a knife. clean. precise. cutting straight through sukuna’s flimsy performance.

the tension tightens. someone at the table mutters.

“oh, shit.”

sukuna’s smirk twitches, just slightly, something unreadable flickering in his crimson eyes. then, in the span of a breath, it smooths over, turning into something even more smug. he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“you got a lot to say for someone who’s just a teacher,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

“or is that not all you are?”

you stand up, not bothering to look at either of the men, making your way to your son who was stunned to say the least. eyes darting from his dad to his teacher. bending down, you take the red cloth, ridding his face and hands of the sticky residue.

“let’s go open some presents hm?” the boy looks at you a little concerned, eyes glinting with confusion.

“everythings okay baby, go with your friends okay?”

as soon as the kids are distracted with gifts and the adults busy refilling their cocktails, you move.

without a word, you push back from the table and grab sukuna’s wrist in a tight, unyielding grip. digging your freshly done acrylics into his skin. his smirk deepens, as if he was waiting for this, but before he can open his mouth, you reach for nanami too, your fingers curling gently around his forearm. he tenses under your touch, but he doesn’t resist.

“inside. now.”

there’s no room for argument in your voice.

the two men exchange a look. sukuna’s is smug, nanami’s is unreadable. they let you lead them inside, away from prying eyes, into the cool quiet of the house. the moment the door clicks shut behind you, you let go of them both and whirl around.

wasting no time, you kick off your heels, snatching your earrings out before fully lunging at the smug man. nanami quickly steps up, placing his arm around you.

“it’s not worth it, yn.”

“just what the fuck was that?”

sukuna leans against the nearest wall, arms folding over his broad chest, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes.

“relax, sweetheart. just giving a little speech.”

“don’t you fucking start with me. you lowlife, bottom of the barrel scum.” you snap, pointing a sharp finger at him.

“you knew exactly what you were doing. you’re fucking drunk! why come here and ruin a perfectly good night for your son? MY son? who in the fuck do you think you are?”

“ruin? yours? i helped make him, in case you didn’t remember.” he repeats, mockingly tilting his head. eyes searing deep into yours, he’s always been the one to try and intimidate you.

“hell, seemed like the kid was happy to see me.”

“his name is yuji.”

you feel nanami shift beside you, his presence steady but tense. his voice, when he speaks, is controlled, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it.

“he was happy for a moment.” nanami says, his golden gaze locked on sukuna.

“until you made it about you.” sukuna scoffs, pushing off the wall.

“oh, and you’re any better?” he steps forward, eyes narrowing.

“let’s not pretend you don’t get off playing the good guy. the stand-in. step dad. replacement.”

nanami doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. just stares at him, unshaken.

“there is no replacement for a father. but there is a choice. you chose to leave. i chose to stay.” he says quietly.

the words hit hard enough that you feel the tension snap between them. sukuna’s smirk twitches, just slightly.

but he recovers, rolling his shoulders back, his expression twisting into something nastier.

“you think just showing up makes you a good man? makes you better? you don’t know this conniving woman. keeping my son away from me this long while making this much money? has she told you what his savings fund looks like? the kid could buy ten different houses and still have money for his great grandchildren! ” he lets out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head, motioning to the large home you stood in.

“you’re just here because it’s easy. because you get to be the safe option. you wouldn’t last a day in my shoes.”

“my son has everything has does because i worked my ass off to get us away from you. i’m conniving? yet you’re two times my age and still live with your girlfriend sukuna!”

“you’re right. and not that it matters what a seven year old has in his bank account, i do know how much. this woman works her ass off for him. so yeah you’re right.” nanami exhales through his nose, gaze flickering with something unreadable.

sukuna blinks. “what?”

“i wouldn’t last a day in your worn out shoes.” nanami repeats, voice quiet but firm.

“because i wouldn’t choose them. i wouldn’t walk away from my son or a woman like yn.”

the silence that follows is thick. charged.

sukuna’s jaw flexes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. for a second, just a second, you almost think he might actually lose it. you cautiously step in front of nanami, peering out the patio door at mrs. okoye and a backup helper. her hand hidden in her concealed apron pocket, the other man proceeding up the patio steps. you just shake your head.

but then, he huffs out a laugh. bitter. sharp.

“cute.” he mutters, shaking his head. pointing finger bouncing back and forth in the air at you and nanami. “real fucking cute yn.”

he turns to you now, something smug and unreadable behind his eyes.

“careful, sweetheart. keep playing house with him, and you might start thinking this is real. you know how you can get.”

your blood runs hot, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting. instead, you inhale slowly, tilting your chin up.

“get out, sukuna. i won’t ask again. if i have to, im afraid you’ll leave with a lot less than you showed up with.”

he clicks his tongue but doesn’t argue. just turns on his heel, heading for the back door.

but just before stepping out, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, eyes glinting.

“happy birthday to the kid.” he says. “hope he doesn’t grow up too soft.”

you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, exhaling slowly, trying to shove down the frustration clawing up your throat. spikes poke at the back of your eye, threatening to open the dam of tears you had saved.

then, nanami speaks.

“hey, he says things just to hurt people, yuji is yours.”

his voice is calm, level. but when you open your eyes, his gaze is intense. steady. like he’s waiting for you to look at him.

you exhale a short, humorless laugh. “i know.”

a pause.

then, nanami shifts, lowering his voice just slightly.

“do you?”

your breath catches. you don’t answer right away. can’t.

because the way he’s looking at you, it’s not just concern. not just patience.

it’s something more. something you aren’t ready to name.

he steps up, wrapping an arm around you, only to be met with you removing it swiftly.

so you swallow hard, sniffling the tears away. straighten your shoulders, and turn back toward the backyard. hands balled up into fists at your sides, your voice trembling.

“we should get back.”

nanami watches you for a long moment. then, with a quiet hum, he nods.

“yn. it’s okay to let it out for a second if you need it-”

“no. i don’t have time to cry about something so stupid, who do you think i am? i have shit to handle.” you scoff at the man who’s now standing a little dumbfounded at your tone.

“i have to go back out and make sure everyone is good.” nanami just grimaces at the treatment you were subjecting yourself to. having no choice but to give into your wishes to make sure the rest of the night was amazing for yuji.

“after you.”

your office is quiet. too quiet.

the kind of quiet that hums in the spaces between keystrokes, the shuffling of papers, and the sharp click-click-click of your heels against marble as your leg jumps under your desk.

it’s been like this for two weeks on end. just you, your work, and the deliberate effort of becoming a machine.

because work is manageable. work makes sense. there are no surprises, no emotions clawing at your throat when you’re buried in contracts and meetings and back-to-back calls.

there’s no lingering weight of sukuna’s words. no echo of nanami’s voice, the warmth of his presence when you almost almost let yourself fall apart.

so you don’t think about it. you don’t think about any of it.

you just work. sending off emails to business partners and clients, scanning portfolios for potential extra assistance.

everything progresses with speed until the knock at your office door pulls you out of it.

you glance up, brows furrowing, before calling.

“come in.”

the door swings open, and you barely have a second to school your expression before nanami steps inside.

your stomach tightens.

he looks the same as always. calm, composed, the picture of quiet steadiness. but his gaze sharpens the moment it lands on you, taking in the paperwork sprawled across your desk, the untouched glass bottle of water at your side, the tension in your shoulders.

you brace yourself, going back to flipping through the many white sheets of paper.

“mr. kento.” you say, carefully neutral.

“what are you doing here?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just closes the door behind him before stepping closer.

“mrs. okoye is worried about you.” he says, voice even.

“so is yuji. so am i?”

you swallow. keep your expression unreadable.

“i’ve been busy.”

“um, yea, yn.” nanami says. “i can see that.”

you glance away, focusing on a stray document, as if you can will the conversation away with sheer force.

“is that all?”

a pause.

then, nanami exhales through his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you do this.” he murmurs.

your eyes snap back to him, narrowed. “do what?”

“this!” he gestures around. at the desk, at the paperwork, at you.

“you bury yourself in work whenever something happens. whenever something hurts or makes you feel.”

“i handle things, nanami.” you bite the inside of your cheek, irritation curling up your spine.

“you avoid things. you think i haven’t noticed in the whole year of us being in this, that i wouldn’t?” he corrects, tone gentle but firm.

“there’s a difference.” your jaw clenches.

because the worst part. the most infuriating part, is that he’s right.

but you can’t afford to fall apart. not now, not ever. you don’t get that luxury.

you exhale sharply, shaking your head.

“i don’t have time for this conversation.” nanami watches you carefully. then, after a moment.

“are you at least going to yuji’s game this weekend?”

your breath catches.

your fingers tighten slightly around the edge of a file.

because you knew about the game. of course you did. yuji had mentioned it before, all bright-eyed excitement, telling you about how he wanted you there, about how he’d been practicing with nanami after school.

but you had meetings scheduled. calls lined up. things that needed handling.

so you had pushed it to the back of your mind. told yourself that yuji would understand. that he wouldn’t need you there.

but now.

you glance at nanami, and his gaze is steady. waiting.

“i don’t know, i have a lot to do.” you say, quieter than before.

he nods, as if he expected that answer. but then he says, just as quiet.

“he just keeps looking for you.”

your heart stumbles.

you press your lips together, fingers curling into your palm. small red crescents forming from your undone nails.

and for the first time in weeks, the work in front of you doesn’t look so manageable anymore.

the words settle deep in your chest, heavier than you want to admit.

he keeps looking for you.

you swallow, eyes dropping to your desk, but the words are already lodged in your head, looping over and over again.

because you know exactly what nanami means. yuji, searching the crowd at school pickup. yuji, glancing at the door whenever mrs. okoye drops him off. yuji, hesitating before he tells you something, like he’s waiting for you to really hear him.

guilt creeps up your spine, curling its fingers around your ribs.

nanami doesn’t press. doesn’t push. he just waits, steady and patient. and that, more than anything, makes something inside you crack.

your fingers tighten around the edge of a document before you let out a slow, measured breath.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

nanami watches you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“do what?” your throat tightens.

“balance it all.” you gesture, vaguely, to everything. your office, the work, your life.

“be enough. be the mom who’s there while also being the person who keeps everything running. because if i slow down, if i stop, then everything falls apart.” you shake your head, exhaling sharply.

it’s the closest you’ve come to admitting it out loud. the fear that gnaws at you, the weight of everything you carry.

nanami is silent for a moment. then, quietly.

“you don’t have to do it alone.”

your eyes snap up to him. his gaze is steady. firm.

“you’re not the only one who loves him. who wants to show up for him.” he tilts his head slightly.

“and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. not to me, not to sukuna, not to the world. yuji already thinks you’re enough.”

something in you aches.

because you want to believe that. want to believe that just being there, just being his mom, is enough.

but it’s hard.

you exhale, shaking your head.

“i just… don’t want to mess this up.”

“you won’t.” nanami says simply.

“because you care. because you try. that’s more than most people can say.” his voice is so sure, so certain, that you almost let yourself believe it.

you blink, glancing away, before inhaling deeply.

“i’ll be at the game.” you murmur.

nanami nods once. no surprise, no i told you so. just quiet understanding.

then, after a beat.

“good, now come over here i miss you.” he says, lips curling into a small smile, pearly whites peeking through as you stand from your desk, basically leaping out it into his arms.

after yuji’s game, the two of you stand on the sidelines, packing up yujis belongings. watching as the kids run around, their energy boundless. yuji’s grin is wide, his eyes scanning the crowd, and you can see the brief moment when his gaze flickers to you, hoping you’re looking.

you smile softly, waving at him, but your attention is split between him and the growing pile of messages on your phone. nanami stands beside you, arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, watching you with that quiet concern you’ve come to expect.

after a few moments, nanami speaks, his voice low enough so only you can hear.

“you’re thinking about work again.”

you glance at him, trying to keep your tone light.

“just checking in on some things. nothing urgent.”

“nothing urgent, huh?” he says, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“because you’ve been saying that for weeks, and I think we both know it’s not true.”

“I can’t help it. there’s always something to handle.” you sigh, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

nanami’s gaze softens, but the firmness is still there.

“yuji misses you, yn. he wants you here. really here. not just physically.”

your heart sinks at his words, and you glance at yuji again, watching him run past, laughing with his friends. for a moment, he looks so carefree, so happy. the weight of the guilt you’ve been carrying sneaks up again. you’ve been too caught up in everything else to give him the attention he deserves.

“he doesn’t need a perfect mom. he just needs you.” nanami’s voice is quieter now, but just as steady.

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know. I just… it’s hard to let go of everything for a little while.”

“and that’s exactly why you need to.” nanami pauses, his expression thoughtful.

“you’ve been pushing yourself for so long, trying to hold everything together. but you don’t have to do it alone.”

you glance at him, the quiet sincerity in his words making something inside you tighten.

“what are you suggesting?” you ask, your voice hesitant, almost afraid of what he’s about to say.

nanami doesn’t hesitate.

“a trip. a few days, just you, me, and yuji. Out of the country. no work. no distractions. a chance to breathe. a chance to be with him, without everything else clouding your mind.”

you blink at him, the idea hitting you in a way you didn’t expect. it sounds perfect. but also impossible.

“a trip?” you repeat, still unsure. “I don’t know, nanami. I haven’t taken time off in forever.”

“and that’s exactly why you need it.” he says again, quieter this time.

“yuji needs you, and you need time to be with him. Just to focus on him for once, instead of all the noise.” he pauses, watching you carefully. “what do you think?”

you stare at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. a trip. a chance to step away from everything. you could focus on yuji, be the mom he deserves, be present in a way that you haven’t been in a long time. maybe you could do this.

“i’ll think about it.” you finally say, the words leaving your mouth with more conviction than you expected.

nanami nods, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“that’s all I’m asking.”

as yuji runs by again, this time with a huge grin on his face, you feel a small spark of something. hope, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to give yourself permission to take a break.

you watch yuji for a moment, his laughter carrying over the field as he races after a soccer ball. the smile on his face is bright, unburdened by the weight of anything. it makes something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

nanami’s gaze shifts between you and yuji, a quiet understanding in his eyes. you can’t help but feel the pull of his suggestion, the possibility of just stepping away for a while, away from all the demands and expectations.

a small part of you feels guilty, as if taking that time is some form of betrayal to everything you’ve worked so hard to build. but another part. the quieter, more hopeful part, wonders if nanami’s right. if it might be just what you need.

yuji spots you then, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, and he waves enthusiastically, his feet carrying him towards you in a blur of energy.

“mom!” he calls out, his voice full of excitement.

“did you see that? did you see my goal?!”

you laugh, bending down as he skids to a stop in front of you.

“i saw, i saw! it was amazing!” you scoop him up in a quick hug, kissing the top of his head as he giggles.

“you have to come to my next game, okay? I want you to be there for all of them,” he says, holding onto you a little tighter than usual, his arms around your neck.

you feel a pang in your chest at how simple it all is for him. all he wants is you. just you, present, in a way that has been slipping through your fingers lately.

“of course, i’ll be there,” you say, holding him close and feeling the weight of that promise.

when he pulls away, nanami watches the interaction, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. you turn to him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you feel the weight of everything ease, just a little.

“maybe a trip wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” you say softly, the thought becoming more real with each passing second.

nanami’s expression shifts slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“good. i’ll start making the arrangements. you won’t regret it, i promise.”

yuji bounces excitedly at your side, clearly unaware of the conversation between you and nanami.

“can we go to the beach? or maybe a mountain? I want to go somewhere fun!”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing.

“we’ll figure it out. somewhere you can run around and have fun.”

he beams at you, his enthusiasm infectious.

as nanami watches the two of you, you realize that for the first time in a while, you’re allowing yourself to consider something that isn’t just about surviving. for the first time in a long while, you’re considering living for yourself, for yuji, for the space you’ve been craving.

and it’s terrifying.

but it’s also exactly what you need.

“yuji! don’t run so fast, you’ll get hurt!” peering from your straw beach hat, your voice radiates across the sandy beach, carrying with the crashing waves and squawks of seagulls lulling around your picnic basket.

“he’s fine. hes still on land.” nanami reassures, finishing his application of sunscreen to his arms.

the salty breeze rolls in with the tide, warm and thick with the scent of the ocean. waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm. the sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re relaxed.

yuji is already knee-deep in the water, shrieking with laughter as he tries to outrun a wave that inevitably catches him, sending him tumbling into the foamy surf. he pops back up immediately, shaking water from his curly hair, his grin impossibly wide.

“momma! did you see that?” he calls out, looking between you and nanami.

you laugh, standing at the shoreline with your feet sinking into the wet sand.

“i saw! but i told you not to turn your back on the ocean!”

“yeah, yeah!” yuji waves you off, already running back in for another round, grabbing his pool floatie before launching his body back into the crystal blue waters.

“did he just?” you gasp a little, looking over to nanami who just laughs.

nanami, standing beside you, watches him with a quiet amusement, one hand tucked into the pockets of his linen pants while the other adjusts his glasses onto his blonde head. the usual tension in his shoulders has eased, and there’s a softness in his expression that’s rare, but not unwelcome.

“it’s okay, baby. he’s going to tire himself out by dinner.” nanami says, tilting his head slightly as yuji dives into another wave, laughs spilling from his lips.

you shake your head, smirking.

“oh, you think that, but he’s like a machine. he’ll run circles around us before he even considers taking a break.”

nanami exhales through his nose in a way that might be a laugh, and you glance up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“you having fun, nanami?” you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

he looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he says.

“i am. how are you though?”

“nothings changed. sukunas still a deadbeat, yujis still the light of my life, and i really enjoy having you around.”

after a beat, nanami untucks his hands from his pockets and starts removing his shirt. the sweat building on his torso creating a glow across his toned abs. you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re actually getting in?”

he gives you a small, knowing glance.

“yuji’s going to get too bold eventually. someone has to be close enough to keep an eye on him.”

“so, you volunteered yourself? he might drag you down.” you smirk.

“well, you certainly weren’t moving.” nanami steps into the water, letting the waves lap at his ankles.

you laugh, placing your phone down of the beach chair. shaking your head as you follow him in, the coolness of the ocean a welcome contrast to the heat of the sun.

yuji, spotting the two of you, lights up. “finally! i was waiting for you guys!”

“yuji, don’t you dare—” but it’s too late. a wave crashes, yuji kicks up water, and suddenly you and nanami are both caught in the splash zone. drenching your cover up and freshly done braids.

you gasp, and nanami exhales sharply, wiping the salt water from his face with one hand. yuji cackles, triumphant.

“okay, you wanna play dirty then huh?” you point at your son.

yuji’s eyes widen, and in an instant, he’s running, laughing hysterically as you and nanami chase him through the surf. the three of you move with the waves, laughter mixing with the sound of the ocean. nanamis arms wrap around the boy, pulling him out of the water as yujis tiny voice yells.

“mom! tell him to stop tickling me!” he cries, now being cradled by the older man, giggling as they make their way out of the water.

“let’s go get some food in us before we turn into some skeletons!” nanami shouts, still carrying the boy to the chairs.

“let’s go then!”

the beach house is quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant crash of waves outside and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. the night air drifts in through the open window, carrying the scent of salt and sand, making the whole room feel calm, weightless.

the room dimly lit with a seashell shaped night light, yuji is already tucked beneath the blankets, his skin still warm from the sun, but he’s not asleep yet. his eyes low, heavy with exhaustion, linger on you as you smooth the blanket over his shoulders.

just when you think he’s finally drifting off, his small voice breaks the silence.

“mom?”

you pause, fingers still brushing over his damp shower hair.

“yeah, baby?”

he shifts slightly, staring at the ceiling for a second before looking back at you. there’s something hesitant in his expression, something unsure. his tiny frame being swallowed by the thick light blue duvet.

“why was dad so icky at my birthday? he even smelled icky.”

your breath catches, the question hitting harder than you expected. you should have known it would come eventually. yuji is too smart, too observant, to just let something like that pass without thinking about it. still, hearing it out loud makes your stomach twist.

you take a slow breath, choosing your words carefully.

“sometimes, grown-ups don’t know how to handle their feelings the right way. your dad loves you, but he doesn’t always show it in the best way.” you say gently, rubbing your hand gently over his tanned cheeks.

yuji frowns, clearly thinking it over.

“but he made you mad. and he made everyone uncomfortable. even my friends.”

a pang of guilt courses through your arms. you press your lips together, brushing a hand through his hair. “i know, baby. and i’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“is mr. nanami my new dad?” he watches you for a moment, your heart stops. you blink a couple of times at him, caught completely off guard.

“what?” yuji shrugs, rubbing his eyes.

“i mean, he’s always around now. and he helps with stuff. and he’s nice to you. he doesn’t make you mad like dad does.”

you exhale slowly, forcing yourself to stay steady.

“nanami is someone who cares about us, a lot. he helps because he wants to, and because he’s a good person. but no one could ever replace your dad, yuji.”

yuji stares at you, then glances toward the door, like he expects nanami to be standing there.

“but if i really wanted him to be, could he?”

the innocence of the question makes your chest ache. you brush your thumb over his cheek, giving him a soft smile.

“you don’t have to worry about that, okay? all you need to do is focus on being a kid. let me handle the rest.” yuji seems to consider that for a moment, then nods sleepily.

“okay.” he murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut. “love you, mom.”

you swallow past the lump in your throat, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “love you too, baby.”

as you step out of the room, you find nanami standing in the hallway, his face unreadable. you don’t know how much he heard, but the way he looks at you, steady, unwavering, tells you it was enough.

neither of you say anything for a moment. the weight of the conversation lingers in the air between you.

finally, nanami speaks, his voice quiet.

“are you okay?”

you hesitate, then nod. “yeah.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. instead, he just tilts his head toward the living room.

“come sit for a bit before we go to bed.”

you think about saying no, about retreating to your room to sit with your thoughts alone. but then you glance back at yuji’s door, the ache still lingering in your chest. so you follow nanami down the hall, letting the quiet of the night settle around you both. flickering off lights and picking up random toys yuji left sprawled out.

the living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a nearby lamp casting warm shadows against the wooden walls. outside, the waves roll in, steady and rhythmic, filling the silence between you and nanami as you sink onto the couch.

nanami walks to the kitchen, pouring small glasses of red wine before recorking the bottle and shuffling back to the open living room.

he doesn’t sit right away, just watches you for a moment, like he’s still gauging where your head is at. then, with that same quiet steadiness, he takes a seat beside you, placing a gentle hand on your thigh.

you lean back against the leather cushions, exhaling slowly, running a hand over your face.

“asked about sukuna. also asked if you were his new dad.” you murmur, the words still settling on your tongue.

nanami doesn’t react immediately, but something shifts in his expression. not surprise, not discomfort. just quiet understanding. he takes a quick sip of the red liquid before refocusing back on you.

“and what did you say?” you turn your head slightly, studying him. the moonlight and lamps warmth combined out him in a different perspective.

“that no one could replace his dad, obviously. what else could i say?”

“it’s a fair answer, yn.” nanami nods, as if he expected that.

“but it still made my chest hurt. how do you explain to a seven year old that his dads a drunk piece of shit, who’d rather fuck strippers than actually support someone he brought onto this planet.” you sigh, rubbing at a spot on your temple.

“it hurt because it caught you off guard?” he watches you, patient as ever.

“because he even had to ask. because his dad, should’ve been someone he looked up to, not someone he’s trying to replace in his mind.” you say, shaking your head.

nanami is quiet for a beat.

“children understand more than we give them credit for. especially well rounded ones like yuji.”

“he’s seven, nanami.” you huff out something that isn’t quite a laugh.

“yes. but he’s also perceptive. he knows when someone is good for you. he knows when someone isn’t. he knows sukuna isn’t necessarily bad to him, but he also knows his mom is really good.” he says simply, sipping more. you take a swig, letting the wine run slowly down your throat.

you glance at him then, searching his face for something, anything. but as always, nanami is unreadable in a way that should be frustrating but isn’t.

“he really likes having you around.” your voice is quieter when you speak again.

“i like being around.” nanami’s eyes soften, just slightly. watching your expression lift as the words leave his mouth.

“sometimes i wonder if i’m doing enough. if i’m protecting him the way i should be.” you swallow past the warmth creeping up your throat, dropping your gaze to your hands.

nanami shifts then, leaning forward just enough to where you smell the fresh wine and cologne.

“you are.” he says, firm in a way that makes you want to believe it.

“he’s happy. he’s loved. and that’s because of you.”

your chest tightens, the weight of the day, of the weeks, pressing down all at once. you inhale sharply, blinking up at the ceiling as if that’ll keep the emotions at bay.

“ugh, why are you so good at that.” you murmur.

“at what?”

“saying exactly what i need to hear.” you glance at him, eyes locked on each others. lips pressing together before you admit.

“it’s just the truth.” nanami studies you for a moment.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it.

“let’s head to bed, hm?”

the soft white duvet sheets peeled back to reveal a bead of ivory silk sheets and pillowcases. nanami stood shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth and reapplying lotion to his skin.

you quickly slipped out of the cotton clothing into a deep blue silk slip dress.

you crawl into bed, slipping beside nanami. his arm wastes no time wrapping around you, large hand cusping your back.

“you’re such an amazing woman yn.”

“oh shut up.” you sigh, shaking your head a little.

“im serious. you’re the strongest woman i know. you’re smart, you’re caring, especially to yuji. i’m glad i got to meet you.”

your eyes shoot up to meet his, the only source of light stimming from the beside lamp. his blue eyes lock onto yours, a smile forming across his lips.

“since you wanna be all sappy. you’re the best man i’ve ever met. and i hate men.” you both let out little chuckles, still staring at each other.

“but im so glad you came into our lives. yuji enjoys having someone around to be a nerd with and i enjoy having someone who’s not- well, anyone other than you. i really love how you make me feel.”

you could barely read the expression on nanamis face before he’s lifting you to straddle him.

“yn, i want you. only you. i want to be here for yuji. if you’ll let me be?”

you open your mouth, then close it again, studying him.

“is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“yes, yn. i’m asking you to be mine.” you giggle a little, finally placing a smile across your lips.

“nothing could make me happier, nanami.”

nanami doesn’t waste time. as soon as the words leave your lips, his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, his presence steady, grounding, but the way he looks at you now. like he wants you. sends a slow shiver down your spine.

his free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers tilting your chin just enough to make you meet his gaze. his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, searching, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind.

but you don’t. you won’t.

so you close the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that starts slow, deliberate, like the both of you are memorizing the feel of this moment. but nanami doesn’t stay patient for long.

he exhales against your mouth, his grip shifting, firm but careful as he tilts your head just right, deepening the kiss. his lips move against yours with intent, warm and unhurried, but there’s a weight behind it now. like now that he has you, he’s not letting go.

you shift, pressing closer, your fingers sliding up his chest, tracing over the firm lines of muscle, nails running across his soft skin. he makes a low sound in his throat, something almost pleased, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you further into him.

you feel his hardening member pressed against your throbbing cunt, gently rubbing against him to create friction.

the kiss turns heavier, heat coiling low in your stomach as his lips part against yours, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before slipping past.

you’re breathless when he finally pulls back, his forehead pressing against yours. his fingers trace slow, lazy circles at your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

“please, nanami.” you whine, feeling as the pad of his thumb presses into your hips. underwear soaked, you continue to grind on the man, watching as his eyes darken in pleasure.

you don’t know if it’s the wine or just him, but you feel lightheaded, heat spreading through you as you press down just a little harder, rolling your hips against his in a way that makes both of you inhale sharply.

he wastes no time pressing your bodies back together, lifting carefully to remove his only item of clothing. eagerly you slip off your cotton panties, throwing them across the room.

nanami exhales, his hands tightening their hold before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion, his body pressing down against yours, his weight warm and solid and everywhere.

your breath catches, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

“my pretty lady”

reeling back, the man carefully spreads your legs, eyes focused on the glistening liquid covering you. his hand shoots down, grabbing ahold of his length.

you feel his fat warm tip press against your entrance, tracing random shapes to collect the slick. nanamis eyes deepen was he watched yours roll to the side, trying to focus on something other than the pleasure rapidly building in your core.

“she’s so wet for me. hm, i missed her.” without warning, nanamis hands pry your legs fully open, using his core strength to push his length fully into you.

mouth wide, gaping in pleasure as the man slowly pulls out, lowering his body onto yours. he presses your foreheads together, offering you a small smile. your eyes dance across his face, watching as his eyebrows furrow at the warmth gripping him.

“wrap your legs around me.” as if you were a robot, you immediately swing your legs up, trapping the man in a hold above you. the motion forces him down, length sliding into you without force.

“fuck you feel so good.” he moans, stroking slowly. sex sounds fill the master bedroom, warmth building in the atmosphere as your nails dig into the man’s back.

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probablyasocialecologist · 7 months ago

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Food insecurity in Ghana did not become a widespread issue until the 1700s and 1800s, as shown by Logan’s archaeological evidence as well as Oral Histories. That’s when British colonizers switched their trade focus from gold to human beings, and the trade of enslaved people intensified in West Africa and across the Atlantic. In addition, colonial economics created food shortages in Banda and across West Africa. Much less grain entered household storage or local barter systems, as most was sold in markets or directly taken by British soldiers. Local people have passed down stories about this period, recounting how their grandparents struggled to eat and turned to less-desirable foods like cassava. “The slave trade not only rewrote what was valuable and what mattered in terms of economy, but it also removed a lot of people who [were] in their prime,” Logan told me when I interviewed her. Those people held valuable knowledge about farming and food production.

[...]

“There’s been this long-standing argument—and this is something that comes out of the colonial narrative—that parts of Africa have just always been food insecure because their agriculture, environments, or crops are inferior,” says Logan. But, as the data show, African farmers were knowledgeable and successful for thousands of years. Outside forces uprooted that security. Logan and Kuma began to challenge assumptions about why and how hunger became a modern problem in West Africa. As Logan wrote in a 2016 American Anthropologist article, “chronic food insecurity is a condition that was made rather than a condition that has always been.”

12 November 2024

#Ghana #africa #colonialism #food security #West Africa

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parkerslatte · 1 year ago

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Needles

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: needles.

Summary: After Y/N and Elain tease Azriel for his aversion to getting a piercing, Y/N finds out the reason why.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The sun was setting over Velaris as Y/N pushed the needle through Elain’s earlobe before securing the jewellery in place. She leaned back to admire her work with a smile. Y/N reached to the side and held up a mirror in front of Elain’s smiling face. The middle Archeron sister gasped.

“Oh, Y/N, they are beautiful!” Elain exclaimed. “Thank you!”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you like them.” Elain jumped from the seat and wrapped Y/N in a hug. Y/N returned it happily.

“I’ve wanted to get more piercings but I’m afraid they will hurt,” Elain confessed, looking into the mirror again.

Y/N gestured to her own ears, decorated in an array of gold earrings and chains. “Don’t look to me if you want an honest opinion on whether they hurt or not because I don’t really remember or I have just gotten used to it. But I remember, this one,” Y/N pointed to a piercing wrapping around the top of her ear, “hurt when I got it but it was nothing but a dull ache within a few days. Perks of fast healing.”

Elain studied her ears carefully. “Do you think it would suit me?”

Y/N smiled brightly. “Of course! Anything would suit you!”

Elain blushed before looking back at Y/N. “Would you be able to do it for me?”

Y/N clasped her hands together happily. “Yes! Are you still sticking with gold? Or do you want to switch it up with silver?”

“Gold,” Elain answered. “I like it better.”

“Gold it is then.”

While Y/N was gathering a fresh needle and an array of different earrings for Elain to choose from, the bell to her shop rang, signalling someone walking in. Y/N silently cursed, she hadn’t thought to lock the door after flipping around the closed sign in her excitement to pierce Elain’s ears.

“Sorry,” Y/N called through the shop. “We’re closed.”

“Even for me?” The smooth voice of the shadowsinger called through the shop.

Y/N smiled, placed the needle down on the table and spun around to face her mate. “I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow morning.”

“Rhys called me back early,” Azriel responded, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Apparently the mission wasn’t entirely worth it.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his lips. He smiled, that one dimple on his cheek standing out proudly. She had missed that smile in the days he had been away.

“I was hoping to surprise you but Rhys told me you were here with Elain,” Azriel said, his hands falling to grasp her hips.

Y/N nodded. “She asked me to pierce her ears. Of course I happily obliged.”

Azriel chuckled and pressed his lips to hers. Y/N melted into it, holding him within her arms tightly. She could stay this easy forever. Azriel attempted to deepen the kiss as his tongue poked out to run across the seam of her lips but, reluctantly, Y/N pulled away. Azriel huffed in disappointment.

“We can continue that later,” Y/N said and stepped away from Azriel and gathered the supplies. “But Elain is waiting in the other room. You can come and watch if you like.”

Y/N walked out of the storage room and into the next where she had left Elain. Azriel followed behind her. “I have a few earrings for you to choose from.”

“Hi, Azriel,” Elain said as Azriel stepped into the room behind Y/N, taking a seat opposite her. “When did you return? Y/N said you weren’t supposed to get abc until tomorrow.”

“Mission was called off,” Azriel answered, leaning back in the chair comfortably. “How did Y/N pressure you into piercing your ears?”

Elain rolled her eyes. “She didn’t pressure me. I wanted to get them pierced.”

“I doubt that,” Azriel’s retorted`. “She basically pressured Cass for her to pierce his ears.”

“And he loves them,” Y/N defended with a smile. “So did Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Mor and even Amren, well I assume so anyway.”

Elain smirked. “You're the only one without any piercings now, Azriel. Are you afraid of the needle or something?”

Y/N snorted and Azriel huffed. “I am not afraid of a silly needle. I just don’t want my ears pierced.”

“Afraid it will threaten your look?” Y/N teased and Azriel sent her a playful glare. “Perhaps it would, the big bad shadowsinger parading around with floral jewellery in his ears.”

Y/N and Elain laughed and Azriel folded his arms across his chest, trying to feign annoyance. The smile on Y/N’s face faltered for a brief moment, afraid that she took the teasing too far but as soon as she felt the wave of love he sent through the bond, the smile returned.

***

When Elain left the shop, Y/N and Azriel were finally left alone together. As soon as she locked the door, Azriel spun her around in his arms and hungrily pressed his lips against hers. Y/N sighed and fully let herself lean into Azriel as he lifted her to place her on top of the counter, wedging himself between her thighs.

Y/N’s hands caressed his head and the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss, arching her back to press her chest against his. The grip Azriel had on her hips only tightened. Y/N missed the feeling of his hands on her. She had been deprived of it for nearly a week and she was sure that if he had been gone any longer, she would go mad.

The moment Azriel began to pepper kisses along her jaw, she knew that she would willingly submit to anything he wanted to do. Azriel could name absolutely anything in the world and she would happily comply.

“I love your piercings,” Azriel whispered into her ear, lips brushing over the only part that wasn’t pierced.

A shiver went down Y/N’s spine as she dug her fingertips into his shoulders. “I know you do, you go crazy for them all the time.”

The laugh that slipped from Azriel was low as he pulled away from Y/N a little to look her in the eye. In the low lighting of the shop, her jewellery glimmered. Even the bracelets and rings that decorated her hands seemed to glow. Y/N watched as Azriel pressed soft kisses on the inside of her wrist, never once breaking eye contact.

“My offer still stands,” Y/N said lowly. “I have pierced every member of the Inner Circle but you.”

There was a small flash of fear in Azriel’s eyes, he thought he disguised it but Y/N noticed it as she smirked. “You are afraid aren’t you? Elain was right when she said you were afraid.”

Azriel scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the piercing,” he looked uncertain and avoided eye contact as he finished his sentence. “I’m afraid of the needle.”

Y/N threw her head back as she laughed. Azriel pulled away from her and folded her arms across his chest. “It’s not funny.”

“Come on, it’s a little funny,” Y/N said, still giggling. “What would Rhys and Cassian say that their big tough shadowsinger is afraid of needles.”

“They wouldn’t let me live it down,” Azriel said, pulling her close so he could nip at the tip of her ear. “So don’t tell them.”

Y/N still continued to giggle. “Okay, I won’t!”

As her laughs subsided, she finally looked at Azriel. “Do you want a piercing?”

“I do,” Azriel admitted. “I have for a while. I just didn’t want to tell you I was afraid of needles.”

“Az, you can tell me anything,” Y/N said, squeezing his hands. “Of course if it's ridiculous I’m going to tease you a little, but you can tell me anything. You don’t need to hide from me.”

Azriel sighed. “I just didn’t want you to think any different of me.”

Y/N cupped his cheeks, thumbs gently brushing his cheekbones. “Of course I wouldn’t. Everyone has a fear, no matter how big or small. Although considering your line of work, I wouldn’t expect it to be needles.”

Azriel huffed but smiled soon after. “So will you pierce my ears?”

Y/N pecked his lips. “Of course, my love.”

***

Y/N stood in front of Azriel making sure the markers for where she would pierce his ears were even. His hands held onto her thighs. The needle hadn’t even been picked up yet Azriel was on edge.

“We don’t need to do this if you don’t want to, Az.” Y/N said softly. “If this is just you trying to prove yourself after Elain and I teased you—”

“It’s not,” Azriel said. “I want you to pierce my ears. I trust you.”

Y/N smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to kiss forehead. “I’m glad.”

As Y/N grabbed the needle the grip Azriel had on her thighs tightened. “Relax,” she whispered and his grip slackened the smallest amount.

Azriel closed his eyes as Y/N placed the needle against the point she marked. “Okay, three, two, one–” Y/N pushed the needle through and Azriel’s hands clamped down on her thighs as his eyes screwed shut.

Y/N threaded her fingers in his hair. “Are you okay, my love?”

Azriel hummed but didn’t open his eyes. Y/N pressed another kiss to his forehead before sliding the jewellery into the hole and pushed the backing onto it. “There’s one done. Are you sure you want to do the other? You don’t need to.”

Azriel nodded as he looked at her. His eyes were a little red and there were some unshed tears, most likely from the surprise, in his eyes. “I want you to do the other one.”

Y/N nodded and compiled. The second piercing was done just as quickly as the first but the grip Azriel had on Y/N didn’t slacken. “Az, are you okay?”

His gaze lifted to hers, the earrings glimmering in the light. “I’m okay. Can I see them?”

With one hand, Y/N grabbed the mirror and with the other she caressed his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

Azriel beamed at the praise. Y/N stepped back the smallest amount and held the mirror in front of Azriel. His smile only grew wider once he admired the new piercings. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

The grin on Y/N’s face was wide as she placed the mirror down. She situated herself on his thigh. Azriel’s hands found their place around her waist. “I must say that you look irresistible, Az.”

“So I wasn’t irresistible before?” Azriel questioned, a teasing grin on his face.

“Of course you were,” Y/N said. “But now…now you are in for a long, hard night.”

Azriel smirked. “If I knew piercing my ears would gauge this reaction from you, I would have done it years ago.”

Y/N chuckled. “I didn’t know I would react this way but…I desperately need you in our bed right now.”

Azriel stood from the chair, taking Y/N with him. “Then let’s go.”

Just as Azriel was about to winnow away, Y/N jumped out of his arms. “Wait!”

She ran into her storage room and grabbed a few more things for Azriel, running back to where he was standing rather quickly.

“Hold out your hands,” Y/N said and Azriel complied.

Y/N slid a few rings onto his fingers. “You always say you love my rings, love how they feel on you. So tonight, I want to try something.”

The smirk on Azriel’s face was devilish as he admired the new decoration on his hands. From the look on his face, Y/N could tell he liked it.

“Maybe I should start wearing jewellery all the time if you react like this,” Azriel muttered, lifting her into his arms.

Y/N locked her legs around his hips. “I wouldn’t be one to complain.”

When their lips connected, Azriel winnowed them away.

#azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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shrimp-buffet · 1 year ago

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LARRY AND LAWRIE HEADCANNONS #2!!

Because holy crap the first one got so much positive attention- (again, headcannons after cut cuz I’m gonna yap for a sec)

Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the first one! It’s my most popular post ever and I’m glad it was so well received. I really hope this is a good follow up! Feel free to let me know if you want more Brawl Stars headcannons going forward cuz I’d be happy to make them.

Anyway it’s finally headcannon time!

Larry focused, Lawrie focused, Both

• Larry’s favorite music genre is literally elevator music (Lawrie likes rock!)

•Both of them hate the Cops theme song, they think it’s very annoying. Doesn’t help that park guest and other brawlers (*cough* Nita and Leon *cough*) tease them with it

• At first, Lawrie didn’t let Larry have a weapon since “they’re dangerous and you don’t need one” but Larry managed to craft his ticket wheel into an explosive weapon somehow and Lawrie was just too afraid/impressed to not let him have it

•They both live in the park’s security station. Specifically, Larry took an unused storage closet and made it into an actual little bedroom, while Lawrie just sleeps in their office (if they sleep at all)

•Lawrie collects bobble heads. They make him smile

•Larry really likes baking! Not to eat the sweet treats (since he can’t even if he wanted to), but he just loves the process of making them. He often bakes cookies with Pearl

•He has no clue that Pearl is related to the Gold Arm Gang somehow. They’ve seen her with them but it just somehow has never clicked and probably never will

•Lawrie does know, but they just think Pearl is harmless enough. The second any other Gold Arm member even gets close to Larry though, they’re ready to strike

•Larry is a hypochondriac even though he can’t even get sick. Lawrie is kinda similar, but they’re just a neat-freak. Either way, everywhere the two go is getting deep cleaned and disinfected

•Lawrie gets a ton of coloring books for R-T since they see R-T as like a little kid and don’t know what else to get them.

•Larry is really good at engineering, and makes elaborate “mouse trap” like contraptions to try and catch criminals. They also make little mini robots! Those don’t have any consciousness but he treat they like his children all the same

•Lawrie pretends they don’t like the little robots, but they will protect those little guys with their life if they have to

•Lawrie’s idea of “fun” is challenging Larry to little games that test their knowledge on all the parks rules (Don’t worry cuz Larry thinks it’s fun too)

•If you bring it up to them, both Larry and Lawrie the living embodiments of anti-smoking/drinking/gambling ads

•People will often sneak up behind Larry and put stickers on them to poke fun at him. He never notices until Lawrie takes them off. He keeps them in a sticker book because they think it means people like him

•No one puts any stickers on Lawrie because he’s just impossible to sneak up on and will punch someone if they try

•They own a cat! Larry found a little Calico kitten and went annoying little brother mode until Lawrie agreed to keep it

•Lawrie hated the idea of having an animal around, but much like a middle aged dad they’re now the one who spoils the cat the most

That’s it for now! Hope you liked it and thanks for reading this!! Again, show some love if you’d like more!

#brawl stars #brawl stars larry #brawl stars lawrie #larry and lawrie #brawl stars headcanons #headcannons #sequel

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chiliyue-archived · 2 years ago

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Hiraeth

↬ he can't stop returning back to you

Includes; PM!Dazai

Entry; 💭 - thoughts not said outloud + ❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

[Event Navi | M.List] | [Bsd M.List] ♡

Dazai has been doing this far too often. And he knows it. Showing up to your living quarters rather than his storage container at the dead of night. Despite himself, it became a perpetual cycle that he had found to be powerless to break away from - acting as the puppeteer to his earthen desires that wilted with passing graces.

The crickets that usually filled his solitude came to increasingly accommodate you as a change. Unknowingly, you became a resurgence within his mind. And before he could even realize it, his legs had led him aimlessly back to you.

Pushing you away wasn't as easy as he thought - and the question if that was a good or bad thing hung in the silence.

Cotton Fingers peeled open the door, exposing his one eye to your slumbering figure. You were perched on the left side of the bed - it became a habit you acquired ever since Dazai has started to fancy your presence and found himself lying in that vacant spot beside you. However, he was never at the mercy of rest; his milky eye would gaze at the ceiling until rays of orange and gold leaked through the binds. That was always his sign of departure, leaving more weary and in search of an abstruse answer.

On the days he wasn't so hapless, his rest often came at the expense of nightmares; losing you to a power far greater than the demon prodigy. He couldn't really pinpoint when he became so attached to you.

Perhaps it was an accumulation of many things that gave sway to his blocked heart. The first time he let you dress his wounds, watching with catious eyes as you carefully nurtured him back to his second skin of gauze. Maybe it was in the way you didn't seem perturbed by the ugliness that was hidden beneath, punctuated by the soft feathery trailing of your fingertips against the molded scars.

Perhaps it was the kisses you pressed on his cheeks and creased forehead, bathing him in your attention devoid of the pain he was accustomed to. Not many escaped his touch unscathed, and yet yours was a drug he chased after incessantly.

Or maybe it was the first time the name 'Osamu' slipped from your lips in sincerity. Dazai almost hated the way he wanted to hear you say it again - to provoke that gentle tickle that became distinguished in his chest when he was with you.

But as much as he conjectured on the potiental answer, it had always remained to be an inquiry that probed the back of his head. Far too complex for even his great intellect, it was both vexing and equal parts a craving.

Dazai made work of shrugging off his coat, the article feeling unnecessary heavy on his taut shoulders. His shoes were already long abandoned, tossed in the genkan beside yours in a lax manner. He's done it so many times that it felt like second nature.

It was quickly followed by the pulling of his tie, the windsor knot becoming a peice of flimsy material and discarded on the small nearby table.

It was the same piece of furniture the two of you would cramp up together and eat cheap takeout or meals crafted by your hands. Regardless of the quality it was a change that filled up his stomach - unlike the cans of crab that littered his home acting as taunting reminders of his position.

He wordlessly slipped beside you, muscle memory coaxing him to curl around your body. His fingers instinctively took place in your hands. Limbs that were so accustomed to yielding instruments of death became fidgety against your own. His pinky mindlessly flexed around your joints, his thumb drawing out the contours.

For reasons he struggled to fathom, he couldn't quite bring himself to look at you. Not in a detested form of manner, but rather for the vulnerability that came if he risked a glance. To see you curled up beside him, dozing in your dreams and feeling secure even with the mafioso beside you. Selfishly, he pondered if you dreamed of him; perhaps immersed in an abstract reality far more promising than whatever this was.

" I'm back." His voice came out as a mumble despite knowing you couldn't hear him. Outloud, the words felt more like an indulgence to himself than anything.

His head leaned forward, his forehead making contact with your hair. The vacuous plaster of his lips remained; however, his eyes became glazed in a spur of intangible emotions. He chose to ignore the way his body hugged closer to you, legs sweeping over yours in a tangle of limbs. He didn't make an attempt to resist it either.

He allowed the silence to suspend the moment, nose nestling into the back of your head and absorbing your presence in silent fear of it being ephemeral. The weight of you being taken from him was always present, and he wasn't sure what he would do if that came into fruition. Just thinking of it rooted its probability deep within his mind and jutted a frown on his face.

Dazai felt his heart stutter when you habitually snuggled into him, light murmurs slipping from your lips. Even if your subconscious you gave him slices of your affection that made him gnaw in reproof yearning.

" Don't disappear on me, okay?" His voice was muffled against your skin, fingers weaving into your own properly.

Under normal circumstances he would have chastised himself for exhibiting such softness; cautioning himself to be more prudent even in your assuaging amity. But it felt terribly easy now to recite those words, even when doused in raw honest undertones.

" I'm scared of ending up alone." Again. He inwardly added, squeezing his eye shut. His voice was small, uncharacteristic of the teasing tone that laced his tongue. No snarky comment, flirty one-liners or fallacious words. He pressed a peck to the crown of your head as though sealing the daunting declaration with verdity.

He was unsure how much time passed but Dazai cradled close to you, whispering light phrases under breath, not yet prepared to voice them properly to you. Truthfully, he was addicted to you, and he briefly wondered what he did to find himself in this moment. Rummaging his mind did little to alleviate his pondering, but it did swarm his heart with an abnormal amass of warmth. A wistful expression would consume him the more he reflected upon your shared moments.

He wasn't some port mafia executive, he was Osamu Dazai in your embrace. And he selfishly desired for that not to change. For the sun to not rise just so he may soak in your attention with greed and rest his head against your shoulder. He wishes to hear your pulse in his ear, to remind him that you're very much real.

He almost can't stop the guilty grin that stretches on his cheeks when the familiar rhythm resonates in his ear. And contrary to the abode you provide him, it also makes his throat go dry and threaten to squeeze his breath away - unsure how long you will remain in his arms.

When you nuzzled your back into his chest, he couldn't help but squeeze your hands, his lips falling on that pulse point on your shoulder. Even if he wasn't able to sleep, his gaze inched closer to you, committing your small details to memory before flickering back to the ceiling. But more and more he came to immerse himself in your person both willingly and subconsciously.

He never meant to get attached, but maybe if it was you, it wouldn't be so bad.

Erm. I wrote this at 2am , idk if this even makes sense 💀

Event Taglist; @eynnwwyjth @himebwrries @seiiblue

If you wish to be added or removed, comment on this post !

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai fluff #i would say this is fluff.#dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x gender neutral reader #page from auroras notebook

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today-in-the-bunker · 1 year ago

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Today, Sam stumbles upon a small dust covered mirror, ornate handle and gold-framed glass surrounded by cobwebs in a long forgotten box. The box had no warning of any sort, so Sam deems it safe to touch and inspect further. He blows the dust covering off of the glass, however the moment he meets his own gaze, he is sucked into the mirror. He can still see the bunker through a hazy window, the same oval shape as the object he'd been holding. He slams fists against the glass, only for them to bounce right off. Eventually, Dean opens the door to the storage area his brother had been exploring, having heard the clatter of the mirror being dropped. Dean, who has been on the wrong end of far too many cursed objects, calls in Cas, who is fortunately familiar with the handheld mirror from a visit to earth in the mid-1800s. He is able to, with eyes firmly shut, reach into the mirror and pull Sam out. Sam takes a minute to readjust then is immediately berated by Dean about how he, who has always patronized his brother about what he can and can't touch during their research, has also fallen victim to one of the Men of Letters ill-secured objects.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #team free will #today in the bunker

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twstinginthewind · 4 months ago

Note

Hihi! You said minific, yeah? Well if you feel up for it, how about your biggest problematic fave in TWST but 🦇

But they're all problematic! That's what's so fun about them!

---

The bakery on the corner has been the same for nearly a century. And not just in terms of the same ownership; the building itself looks almost the same as the day the business opened, its painted windows and polished wood furnishings maintained impeccably, seemingly untouched by the ravages of time, wear, or vandalism. The bright green and gold three leaf clovers have not faded a bit, and still act like a beacon for those in search of sweets from all over the city.

Inside, the bakery staff always seems to be the same, an ever-rotating cast of rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, smiling young people, dedicated to their positions. Management is always held by a member of the same family - currently, it's a slender, ginger-haired young man with a cunning grin, a mind designed for marketing brilliance, and a collection of nervous tics that become more obvious the longer one speaks to him. The Diamond and Clover families, he says, blinking a bit too fast, have been in a partnership for generations, and have created a place where the traditional flavors of the city can be savored in a pristine, retro-styled establishment! No, sorry, Mister Clover isn't available for comment, he's afraid... He's overnights, you see, making all of these WONDERFUL treats. Have you tried the black-and-white cookies?

The bakery has been working with the same recipes for decades, with some experimental items and changes for modern tastes cycling on and off of the menu as the years go by. There is always at least one member of the Clover family among the front staff, but their talents are most often used in the kitchens.

Kitchens, yes. The small, bright one on the main level, visible from the sales floor, where green-aproned staff decorate cakes and wrap sandwiches to go, is most well-known by the bakery's patrons. But it's not where most of the work gets done. That kitchen is downstairs, below the main hum of the business upstairs.

It's quite a bit darker down there; the overhead lights never quite seem to completely cut through the subterranean gloom. The large room is a temple to cleanliness. Stainless steel counters equipped with sinks, pristine rolling racks with clean and well-used trays lining them, the largest wood-fired oven in the city, a huge storage pantry for ingredients that looks as though it had never seen a rat or an insect in the entire time it had been in use; aside from the insufficiency of the lights, it looks like any baker's dream kitchen. At the far end of the kitchen, a solid double door leads to a small delivery dock. At the opposite end, a securely locked metal door leads to what seems to be a storage room, air heavy with the scents of earth and copper pipes.

During the day, however, it stands empty. The downstairs kitchen doesn't come to life until after dark. To hear Mister Diamond speak of it, it sounds as cozy as a dream. A senior staff member, one of the Clover family, oversees a tight-knit team of bakers to fill the next day's sales needs. They work overnight in order to create all of the breads, cakes, pastries, and snacks that the store needs, following the recipes handed down over generations. Sometimes, a lucky member of the front of store staff will get to join them, and learn from their techniques, too!

Mister Diamond isn't telling the complete truth.

There is one sticking point to this story... how the recipes are handed down. They have not been. The recipes - although many of them have been permanently committed to memory - have remained in the possession of a single man since the 1930s. He's uncertain about changing much, you see, since he remembers very distinctly how each of the classic recipes taste, and he wouldn't be able to check and see how any changes would affect the flavor. And he doesn't trust the collection of great-grand nephews and nieces who work by his side; they weren't there, they couldn't know.

And the little ones that Mister Diamond sends down every once in a while, ugh. No patience, no sensibilities. Mister Clover can hardly stand it; he finds he generally has to convince them to forget everything they learned while working downstairs.

Still, it beats having to source his own meals. And they do become MUCH better workers after he's made use of them once. So devoted to the shop. Ready to do anything for their lead baker.

He gets to live his life unnoticed among the monster hunters of the city, so many of whom rely on his shop for their daily bread... Trey does love that irony.

#story #vampire au #vampire!trey clover #twst vampire au #twisted wonderland fan fic #twst trey #trey clover #monster au #technically #it might not be a castle but it's privately owned real estate in a downtown city center; it's probably worth as much #came for the vampires and stayed for the delightful cherry danishes #renfield!cater diamond #cater diamond #twst cater

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venusrising91 · 8 months ago

Text

The Demon Prince

Pairing: Demon Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Fantasy/horror & Smut 18+ (thinly plotted, just something fun, twisted and dirty for the spooky Halloween season 🎃)

Summary: Broke and down on your luck, an encounter with an ancient artifact brings you an otherworldly opportunity to change the hand of fate, but at what cost?

Word count: 2,685 (about 4 pages)

T/W: Dub-con, Bondage

PROLOGUE: You didn’t expect the pages to start glowing. First mind is usually the right mind and you should have followed yours. But curiosity had gotten the better of you.

Times had been tough. A lay off at work followed by an eviction notice taped to your apartment door was the perfect recipe for desperation. Plenty of it filled you.

In less than two weeks, you needed to be out of your complex. Most of your belongings were in boxes. You’d cleared out the place and had every intention of moving all of your things into storage since you didn’t have enough money to pay for a security deposit (and no landlord would accept a newly evicted tenant). In short, you’d resigned yourself to homelessness thanks to your overdrawn bank account.

While you packed it was all you could think about: how little your life amounted to, how little you owned.

Pessimistic tears sprang to your eyes as you cleaned out one of the closets in your bedroom. When you reached to the back for the last few items against the wall, a panel came loose. It fell straight out with a soft thud. Great, damaged property. There goes my security deposit.

But something else had fallen too. A book. It was large, and its cover appeared to be made of solid gold. No wonder the panel had fallen down—without the weight of the items you usually kept pressing against the wall, there was nothing to keep it upright.

You jammed the panel in place, then peeled back the book’s heavy front cover. Its design seemed intricate, ancient. The entire face was inlaid with jewels of the finest quality. One alone would probably fetch you enough money for an entire year’s worth of rent. You should’ve tried to pry one of them out, but it was too late for that. Curiosity had taken hold of you.

The pages of the book began to glow hypnotically as you gazed at them. Faint embers at first, then brighter, bright as the sun almost. You’d never seen anything like it. When the light grew so intense that it felt as though it would blind you, it began to fade. Slowly ebbing away, bit by bit until it was gone. In its wake there remained an inscription. Written in a thick, dark red ink were the words:

“An Emêl-fëy requests an audience,” you said the foreign sentence out loud. As soon as you uttered it, a searing pain throbbed in your left wrist. You stared at it in disbelief, teeth clenched as the inscription Emêl-fëy burned itself into your flesh. “Stop!” you shouted, “Please, make it stop!”

“As you wish, little human.” The pain ended and you whipped your head in the direction of the voice. Standing behind you, right in the center of your bedroom, was the most formidable being you’d ever laid eyes on. You rose from the floor of your closet and cowered against the door frame, leaving the book inside.

“Who a-are you?” you stuttered, trembling. The being came to stand before you. His skin seemed carved of porcelain, and his face, though menacing, was rather beautiful. Your eyes met and you gasped. The color of his irises glowed red, sparkling in their sockets like rubies. He wore robes of deepest black, and atop his head sat a many horned crown. Midnight black hair rested beneath it. He smiled and revealed a set of long, bone-white fangs.

“You should be flattered that I came when you called, little human. It is the greatest honor to be graced by the presence of the High Daemon Prince of the Seven Hells.”

“I-I didn’t call,” you said.

“But of course you did. The incantation presented itself and you spoke it. You summoned me, Emêl-fëy.”

“That’s not my name.”

“It is now.”

“What does it mean?”

He laughed. “We’ll come to that. What do you desire?”

“I don’t understand.”

“As part of the agreement that binds you to me. What would you have in exchange for becoming my Emêl-fëy?”

Why does he keep saying that word?

You scratched your head and looked around. There was no escape. You wouldn’t make it to the door in time. His legs were too long, and his muscular frame towered over yours. He had to be at least six foot seven in height and you were a lot shorter than that. He'd catch you in an instant if you tried to run.

“Please, I don't understand. I need you to explain.”

He raised a dark brow and sighed. “Very well. Ignorance will cost you. I’ll add it to your debt.”

“My debt?”

“Mm, to be paid in servitude for what all I shall grant you. Consider yourself lucky. I killed the last one that beckoned me. He was not to my tastes. But you…” he dragged a sharp, pointed nail along your jawline, “You I very much like the look of, my little Emêl-fëy. Not just any human can turn the head of an Incubus. We are a race as ancient as time itself. I have seen many wonders. Few have captured my interest as thoroughly as you have.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

He showed his fangs again and your heart raced. “I am the High Daemon Prince Hö-Suk. Now tell me, What would you have of me? I will grant you anything you desire.”

You widened your eyes. “Anything?”

“Do not make me repeat myself, little human.”

Money. You needed money. And a lot of it. You had no job, no place to live anymore. But money would change all of that. “I need wealth,” you said, heart racing. “I want to be rich.”

“Done. I grant you riches.”

Your phone vibrated against your thigh. It was a text from the landlord thanking you for your backed rental payments. But you hadn’t paid her any rent. Not in months.

You checked your bank account. It was in the negative the last time you opened the app. Now, over eight-hundred million dollars sat in the account.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. “Did you do this?”

The High Daemon nodded, half chuckling.

In an instant all of your problems had vanished. You could move anywhere you wanted, do anything you desired with your life.

“Onto your hands and knees. Now.”

You looked at the High Daemon Prince with furrowed brows. “Excuse me?”

He grabbed your wrist and smoothed his thumb over the tender flesh, reminding you of the branded inscription. “It will be a long night. One of many as my Emêl-fëy.”

That word again. You tried slipping your hand from his wrist but he refused to let it go. “What does it mean? Emêl-fëy?”

“In your language? Fuck toy. The incantation you spoke was an agreement. I have granted you a desire and in return, you will be mine, little human—little Emêl-fëy. For as long as I want you. And I have an appetite as deep as the oceans for pretty men.” He waved his hand through the air and your clothes disappeared. The next instant something cool and hard slithered between your legs, caressing the back of your thighs. Cupping your buttocks. You peered down and realized it was the High Daemon’s long, thick tail—hairless as a python, smooth and pulsing.

The High Daemon had shed his clothing too. He was carved of pure muscle—so hard bodied that he appeared to be made of stone. His tail coaxed its way between your cheeks, circling your rosebud. He forced you onto your knees.

“Open your mouth. It is mine to use, little Emêl-fëy.”

His cock was immense. His skin burned as warm as a furnace. You looked up at him and saw a smirk on his plump lips. Something about the sight of it made your cock stiff as a rock. His tail probed your entrance and you opened your mouth to let out a moan.

As he shoved his tail into your hole, you took the High Daemon’s rigid length to the back of your throat, having little choice in the matter.

“Good boy,” he growled as you sucked him off. “Shall I give you a reward for this?”

Before you could answer, the appendage inside you began to vibrate. Your eyes rolled back as his tail buried itself deep inside you, oscillating against your prostate. “This is the spot, yes?” the High Daemon asked, shoving both his cock and tail deeper inside both your entrances.

At the back of your throat was his large cock, and stuffed between your tight ring of muscles was the smooth pleasure of his tail, quivering inside your cheeks. Tears spilled from your eyes as he slipped his cock from your mouth and slapped it against your face. “You did not answer me, little human, little Emêl-fëy. You leave me with no option but to punish your insubordination.”

“Yes, yes it’s the spot.”

“Address me as master, henceforth.”

“Yes master, it’s the…aahh,” his tail went deeper, vibrated harder, you couldn’t speak.

“Too late.”

He yanked the tail from your hole and the force with which it ripped from the space drew out a rope of come. It shot from your tip, long, fast and hard. You whimpered as the jet of milky semen left you. No one had ever made you come that intensely. Your entire body convulsed as the hot streams left you. Your knees would be weak if you weren’t already on them. With a mewl you collapsed to the floor, chest and stomach flush against the carpet as you struggled to regain your breath after the orgasm. The High Daemon seized both of your wrists.

In an instant, a cord wrapped around them.

“What the—”

“Do not speak unless spoken to. And do not bother trying to free yourself. These knots are forged of darkest Daemon magic. You will not be released unless and until I unbind you.”

The High Daemon lifted your body from the floor.

“Wait, please—”

He clamped a hand over your mouth and sank his fangs into your neck.

“What did I tell you about speaking? About addressing me?”

“Sorry m-master,” you whispered, hands behind your back, chest heaving.

“That is more like it. Quiet now. Only your moans are allowed from this moment on. It is the only sound I wish to hear leave your lips. Is that understood?”

“Yes master.”

“Good boy, good little Emêl-fëy. Now. I am going to make you come for me again. Many times.”

He lowered himself onto the edge of your bed and sat you in his lap. His muscular thighs felt hard as steel beneath yours. In seconds his cock was pressing against your hole, still stretched wide from the girth of his tail.

His cock gaped you even further. It was twice the size of what had previously penetrated you and you gasped as it slid inside your opening. You squirmed but he held you still, hands securing your chest and waist as he fucked into you.

Your cock had hardened again in spite of your earlier orgasm. You looked down at it, slapping wildly against your abdomen. The High Daemon’s tail slithered across your body. It wrapped itself around your hard length like a fist, then began stroking. Your head fell back, lolling against the High Daemon’s shoulder as he worked you, pumped you, fucked you.

He kept your body pinned in place while he thrusted his cock in and out of your hole. His length seemed familiar with all your deepest wants. He kept the pace you liked in the back and in the front. The pleasure from each was almost unbearable.

“M-master I’m going to c—”

“Come? Not yet. You do not have my permission.”

“Master?”

“Only after I have filled you.”

“Yes�� master, but—”

“Silence. I will hear no bargaining. Only moans.”

You shut your eyes. He was bringing you dangerously close to the brink of climax. A few more strokes from that tail of his and you’d shoot like a fountain. How could he expect you to resist coming when he fucked like a god?

You tried to obey his orders, but his tail constricted even tighter around you. It gained speed and stroked your cock with an unrelenting rhythm. And to make matters more precarious, you were stuffed full of him. With each stroke he ran his cock through you like a sword, from base to tip. He fucked you faster, and a bead of slick spilled from your head. You fought against the restraints that tied your hands as your peak began to build. If you had access to your fingers, you could pry his tail off your cock and reduce some of the pleasure he was giving you.

But it was impossible to drive back the sensation of orgasm when he was fucking you so expertly. The high washed over you like a wave and you moaned.

You lost your load in a thick hot rope. It covered your chest, and trickled onto the High Daemon’s tail and thigh. He growled, wrapping a hand around your throat. The strangling made you come even harder.

“You disobeyed my commands, Emêl-fëy. I said only after I have filled you and yet…” his tail unraveled itself from your softening cock. This orgasm left you weaker than the last but the High Daemon didn’t care. He laid you on the bed and rolled you onto your side. “I shall have to punish you again.”

“Master, please.”

The same magical restraints that had bound your wrists now secured your ankles. He’d linked them together, tying you like a hog to be roasted on the spit.

“You will learn to follow orders, little human. And if I ruin you during the process, all the better.”

He laid you on your stomach and mounted you like a knight mounts a horse. Now both his cock and tail were inside you. Working you to an ecstasy you were sure would wreck you beyond repair. Nothing existed except the pleasure. You forgot your name, your age. You forgot about the High Daemon riding you. All you could see were stars as the tail vibrated in the depths of your hole alongside the cock this hadean prince of the underworld had stuffed there.

For the third time in one night, you hardened again, feeling the beginnings of another round of shooting ropes. But you didn’t have to hold them off this time.

Hot semen filled you as the High Daemon emptied himself inside you. The feeling alone triggered your release. Your cock was trapped between the mattress and your stomach but that didn’t stop you from soiling it with your come. A harsh grunt escaped the High Daemon, drowning out your shrill moans as your third orgasm rippled through you.

While you shuddered there, the bonds on your wrists and ankles disappeared. You rolled onto your back and tried to recover.

“Good little Emêl-fëy,” the High Daemon said, running his hands along your slick abdomen, “You took me well. That little hole of yours is…exquisite. Quite rare for a human to withstand the stamina of an Incubus as ancient and strong as I. You quenched but an inkling of my thirst—my lust, but I can already tell that you will make a fine servant. Soon you will learn my tastes.”

In a flash he dressed himself again.

“Master,” was the only word you could manage.

“Find yourself a better dwelling. You have riches now with which to do so. When I return again to fuck you senseless, I expect to be met with luxury as fine as the orgasms I have given you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good.”

The High Daemon Prince of the Seven Hells disappeared like mist and you let out a contented sigh, still feeling tender and sensitive from being used so extensively. Despite the brand on your wrist, and the agreement of indefinite servitude, you smiled. Three orgasms and being the High Daemon’s Emêl-fëy was a small price to pay for becoming a millionaire. Already, you were craving another high, another night spent serving your new master.

#wonho imagines #lee wonho #lee hoseok #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #shin wonho #lee hoseok smut #monstax smut #monsta x wonho #kpop x you #kpop x y/n #wonho x reader #wonho x you #monster x you #monster x reader #monster x human

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